Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
HOLLIS
I haven’t heard from Pres in days.
Since we’ve been a constant part of each other’s lives for the last two months, it’s a decent cause for concern.
Especially since tomorrow is her birthday.
She and Jace were supposed to take a trip to Vegas, or at least that was the plan back in June when she still felt comfortable talking about him with me. Per our silent agreement, she hasn’t mentioned him since that night in her parents’ pantry, and I haven’t asked.
So I have no idea what the status of their relationship is.
They could be getting married by an Elvis impersonator right now for all I know.
God, I fucking hope not.
Because what if she forgave him after that? What if she made excuses for his inexcusable behavior again? I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold my tongue this time.
I want to support her. I want to be a good friend. But being supportive doesn’t mean standing by while someone you love is being mistreated.
Because I do love Presley.
Maybe not in the way Jonas seems to believe I do, but I’ve always had strong feelings for the Creeds.
Especially her.
I pace the floor of my living room as the midday sun beams light across the dull couch and empty walls. Pulling my phone out of my jeans pocket, I stare at the unanswered texts from this morning.
They are still all unread.
She’s never left any of my messages unread. Even at three in the morning, she’ll message me back just to say, “Go to sleep, old man.”
But for the last two days…silence.
An uneasy feeling starts to settle in my stomach. Sure, it might be nothing. She could be in Vegas right now, just too busy having fun to text me back, but something tells me that’s not it.
Or maybe I’m just hoping.
I decide to call her either way.
She answers on the third ring. “Hey, it’s my good friend, Hollis!” Her words sound slightly slurred together, and her voice has that dopey pitch that can only be achieved through copious amounts of alcohol consumption.
“Are you drunk?” I don’t know why I bother asking. I already know the answer.
She whispers the answer like it’s a secret. “Maybe.”
If I weren’t so worried, I might find Drunk Presley kind of cute. But I am. Worried, that is. Because it’s only three in the afternoon here, which means it’s noon on the West Coast, and she’s already trashed.
“Where are you?” I press, ready to bolt out of my apartment to…where? I’m in fucking Nashville. She’s…not.
“Vegas, baby!”
I swallow my disappointment. I guess that birthday trip is still on. This information shouldn’t bum me out as much as it does.
Friends do not get jealous, remember?
“Oh, okay. Well, I won’t keep you. I just hadn’t heard from you in a few days, so I wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m great,” she assures me in that slurred voice again. “Nothing a little vitamin D and a mai tai can’t fix. Shit, how long have I been out here?” I hear the clanking of a glass, and she groans.
“Wait, where’s Jace?”
She snorts. “That cheat? How the hell should I know? He’s definitely not here.”
Cheat? My brain is struggling to keep up. “He cheated on you?”
“Dirty rotten cheat,” she murmurs into the phone. “He ruined everything, and now I’m in Vegas all alone.”
She sounds devastated. “You’re by yourself?”
“I have my mai tai.” She hiccups before adding, “Well, I did. Now, I just have an empty glass.”
I suspect she has more than one based on the sound of her voice.
I don’t like the idea of her drinking alone, especially so early in the day. “Where are you?”
“I told you. Vegas,” she says in an exasperated tone.
“No.” I chuckle. “I mean, where in Vegas are you?”
“Ooooh…” She drags out the word and then giggles.
Jesus.
“I’m at the pool. It’s so fucking hot.”
Alarm bells start to go off in my head. It’s the middle of summer, and Las Vegas is hot on a normal day. In July? It must be unbearable. “How long have you been out there, Pres?”
“I’m not sure. A while. I was going to get breakfast, but then I decided the pool sounded more fun.”
Shit. “Is there a bartender around anywhere? Or a pool attendant?”
“Um.” There’s a pause, and I hope to God she’s actually looking around the pool deck and not staring at her feet or something. “Oh! Found one! There is a bartender over there!”
Does she think I can see him?
“Great, that’s perfect. Can you do me a favor and walk over to him?”
“Sure, why?”
“Call it an early birthday surprise.”
“You remembered my birthday?” Her voice turns serious. It’s the most sober I’ve heard her since she answered the phone.
“Of course I did.”
“Jace never remembered anything I said,” she says softly, and I don’t know what surprises me more—the fact that she’s comparing me to her ex or that I like that I come out on top.
“Well, he is an asshole and didn’t deserve you.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them.
But I can’t help it. I’ve been holding them in for over a month.
“You’re right.” She simply agrees before I hear her say, “I’m at the bar.”
The quick change of subject jars me a little, but I remember why I sent her there and focus on that. “Good. Now tell him your friend would like to talk to him.”
“What?”
“Just trust me.”
I can hear a hint of apprehension in her voice. “Okay.”
She must press the phone to her chest or put it on the bar top because everything sounds a little muffled. But, from what I can hear, the bartender sounds slightly confused by her request, but is amenable.
That or he’s simply flirting with her and willing to do whatever she asks in hopes of getting in her good graces.
Suddenly, there’s a shuffle, and I hear a deep voice say, “Hello?”
“Hi, who am I speaking with?”
“Uh, Mike?” He answers as if he’s not entirely sure. I hear Presley giggle, and I’m pretty sure I have my answer to my previous question—definitely flirting. Still is, if I had to guess.
“Hi, Mike,” I say through gritted teeth. “My name is Hollis, and in front of you is my good friend, Presley.”
“Your friend is hot, Hollis.”
“Not really part of your job description, Mike,” I growl.
“Just an observation.”
“Yeah? Well, since you’re so good at observing, how many drinks have you served her?”
“I don’t know. I’m not anyone’s keeper.”
“Yeah? How long have you been bartending?”
“Not long.”
No shit. It’s why he was working the morning shift on the pool deck. Shitty bartender. Shitty shift. “And if she had passed out from alcohol poisoning or sun sickness?”
“I don’t know, man? She looks fine to me.” He feigns indifference again.
“Yeah, and you’re going to make sure she stays that way. Otherwise, I’m going to have a nice long chat with your manager, and you’ll be stuck working this sweaty pool deck shift forever.”
He doesn’t respond. “What do you want?”
“I want you to have someone from the spa come and escort her to her room. Have them treat her like fucking royalty, and don’t fucking embarrass her. And then I want her to spend the whole day at that spa—”
“I can’t charge that to her room without her approval. Do you know how much a full day at the spa costs?”
“I’ll pay for it,” I tell him. “And I don’t give a shit about the cost.”
“Are you rich or something?” He snorts.
“Nope,” I lie. “Just a bartender who actually knows how to do his job. Now, hand the phone back over to Presley,” I tell him as he mutters under his breath. “Oh, and one more thing. Stop fucking looking at her.”
Pretty sure I hear him call me an asshole.
Not entirely sure I don’t deserve it, though.
I got the text over thirty minutes ago and have been sitting here in my living room staring at it ever since.
She sent me a photo.
Presley sent me a selfie, and I can’t stop looking at it because it’s the first time I’ve seen her since high school. She looks fresh-faced and sobered up from her day at the spa. Her hair is wet, and she’s wearing one of those fluffy white robes that every fancy hotel seems to have.
She’s holding a glass of champagne with a huge grin plastered on her face.
She’s the most breathtaking vision I’ve ever seen.
And now I’m thinking about doing something really, really stupid. I decide to call for reinforcements instead.
Jonas picks up the FaceTime call almost immediately. “Hey, what’s up?”
I slow blink as I try to make sense of what I’m seeing. “Are you in the bathtub?”
He scoops up a handful of bubbles, smears them down the smooth skin of his chest, and smirks. “Yup.”
I shake my head back and forth, trying to dislodge the mental image of my best friend naked in the bath. “You know you don’t have to answer when I call, right?”
He shrugs, shifting so his shoulders dip slightly lower into the water, not showing any signs of being bothered by his lack of clothing. “Figured it might be important. You rarely call me. Plus, I am really comfortable in my own skin.”
“I call you.”
“No,” he argues. “You’re a die-hard texter. I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve called me outside of work shit. Wait, is this work shit? ’Cause if so—” A bare foot slides up his torso.
“Fucking hell, Jonas. Keisha’s in there with you?”
“Of course she is. You think I’m sitting here, taking a bubble bath all by myself?”
“I don’t know what you do when I’m not around.”
“I fuck my wife in the tub—that’s what. Now, hurry up and tell me why you called before the water gets cold.”
“Fine. Jesus,” I grumble, making both of them laugh. I need new friends. “Presley’s birthday is tomorrow, and she’s in Vegas all by herself, and I’m this close”—I hold up my thumb and index finger, almost touching—“to buying a plane ticket and joining her. Talk me out of it.”
“Why?”
“Why what? Why is she all alone or—”
“Well, sure, I guess. But—”
I cut him off mid-sentence. “Her boyfriend cheated on her, and she dumped him. Vegas was supposed to be the trip they took together.”
“Go!” both he and Keisha shout together.
I throw my free hand up in exasperation. “You’re supposed to talk me out of it!”
“I never agreed to that,” Jonas says. “Baby, did you ever hear me agree to that?”
“Nope,” I hear Keisha reply.
“See?” He shrugs. “And why wouldn’t you want to go? Like you said, she’s all alone. On her birthday.”
I wince, hating the idea of her spending the whole day by herself. “I know, but she’s also fresh off a breakup, and I’m—”
“You’re what?”
“I’m not sure I’m the friend she needs right now.”
“And why is that, Hollis?” God, he’s a smug asshole sometimes.
I let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re really gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”
He grins. “Yup.”
“I don’t think what I feel for her is just friendship anymore, okay? Happy?”
It doesn’t mean I am in love with her, I try to convince myself. It just means that my feelings for her are a bit more complicated than I realized.
“So happy.” His grin turns wickedly mischievous. “I’d be happier if you’d just admit you’ve been obsessed with that girl since high school, but this will do. Now, do you want to leave tonight or tomorrow morning?”
“What?”
“Oh, while you were working your way through all that, Keisha was busy looking up flights. So I’ll ask again. Do you want to leave tonight or tomorrow morning?”
I bite my bottom lip, trying to find a reason not to go. But I just keep picturing her alone and miserable on that pool deck. “Tonight,” I finally say. “I want to be there when she wakes up.”
“Who knew our boy was a romantic?”
“It’s not like that, Jonas.”
“But you want it to be,” he reminds me.
“It doesn’t matter what I want. She just broke up with her boyfriend, and right now she needs a friend.”
“But it’s Vegas!”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs. “Crazy things always happen when you’re in Vegas.”