2. APRIL
APRIL
My hips swayed and my hands thrashed in the air while bumping around to the band.
It was open mic night at Ashes Night Club.
Derek Riggs, from my favorite band, showed up.
I nearly passed out when he grabbed the Fender Telecaster and jumped on stage.
My ass hit the dance floor with my best friend, Nora.
We belted out all the words, as if I was singing into a hairbrush in my teenage bedroom.
As the song ended, a strong pair of hands whirled me around. It was my boyfriend, Wes. He must have just gotten here. I flung my arms around him.
“Can you believe it?” I pointed to the stage. “Derek Riggs.”
Wes wore his signature bored-to-irritated expression as he briefly glanced toward the grungy singer. My shoulders slumped. Couldn’t he at least pretend to be excited for me? It wasn’t just any night at the club. It was special, and this performance tonight was like a birthday gift just for me.
“I’m going to get some drinks!” Nora shouted into my ear before sneering at Wes.
She was not a fan and didn’t quite understand what I saw in him, not that it was surprising. We had opposite tastes in men. Nora was into more of the perfectly-polished business guys and Wes, with his hipster vibes, offered her nothing.
“Did you just arrive?” I asked, overlooking that he was more than an hour late and came with his coworkers.
Wes had mentioned a big project at work, and tonight wasn’t easy for him to come to, so I told him to bring the gang along.
I even begged and said, “Take a break for a bit and relax.” I recalled telling him it would help rejuvenate the team.
Nora rolled her eyes and mouthed, Seriously?
I knew already what she was thinking, As if you have to coax him to come out for your birthday.
I brushed it off, because he at least showed up. As I wobbled on my heels, I noticed Wes was stiff and shoved his hands in his pockets like my touch was off-putting. Something was wrong. Maybe it was work? I reached for his hand.
“What’s wrong?”
He pulled away. “I gotta go. This place gives me a headache and I have stuff to do.”
“Seriously? Go? You just got here,” I protested.
He cocked his head, his annoyance evident. “Don’t do that. I told you I was busy tonight.”
Busy? It wasn't as if I just wanted a night out. It was my goddamn birthday. My hurt took over. “Sorry. Next time, I’ll reschedule my birthday to fit your plans.”
“You won’t need to,” he mumbled, just as the band stopped.
I stepped back. “What does that mean?”
“Look, I didn’t want to do this tonight.” He sighed. “But,” he paused, rubbing the back of his neck, “I think I’m just done. I’m gonna bounce.”
“Because of a headache?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“No. This.” He waved his hand between us.
My jaw dropped open in shock. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
He remained indifferent. Like my birthday, my feelings, or hell, me as a person didn’t matter. Was he for real?
Because I was a sucker for punishment, I asked, “You’re breaking up with me in a club, on my birthday?”
I hated how the pitch of my voice shot up two octaves. And that a few people had turned their heads to watch the drama I was creating.
“It’s only a birthday. You’ll have another one next year,” he responded dryly.
I stared at him blankly. Not wanting to believe he’d just said that.
He shifted on his stupidly expensive loafers that had no business in a place like this. He scrubbed a polished hand down his face and, in a softer tone, said, “It’s not working. We’re too different.”
“Different?” I stammered. “I thought you liked that?”
“Sure, in the beginning. But now...” He shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like we even spend time together. Your schedule is ridiculous. I don't want to book time to see you two weeks in advance. I need someone who’s available.”
“I am available!” I screeched.
He rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands in his black skinny jeans. “If I book a week in advance and something doesn’t come up with work.”
“You knew I had a high-demand job that took me out of town a lot.”
“I know. You work for the Toronto Twisters, and meeting everyone had been great, but I feel like you’re always at their beck and call, not mine.”
Hold up. “Their beck and call?” I echoed like a freaking parrot.
Before I could respond, his friend came up and said something only he could hear. The way he interrupted us had me thinking he’d either not known what was happening, or just didn’t care. My guess was the latter. They fist bumped and just as his asshole friend was about to leave, he winked at me.
“Hey, uh, happy birthday. Great place.”
I hadn’t missed the sarcasm.
“Excuse us, we’re not done here.” I glared at the guy.
He glanced at Wes before turning back to me. “I think you are.”
Wes barely even looked at me before they strutted away, gathering the rest of their what seemed to be groupies and not coworkers.
I stood there for a moment, stunned. Did that just happen?
I caught one more glance of Wes’s back as one of the petite blondes looped her arm through his as they walked out the door.
What an absolute fucker.
The entire cab ride home, I was an incoherent, blubbering mess. Nora was doing her best to comfort me, but it was a lost cause at this point.
“I didn’t even get cake,” I whined as we entered our place.
“Bitch, please. You think I’d let this day go without a birthday cake?” She walked over to the freezer, opening it slowly to reveal my favorite chocolate Deep ‘n’ Delicious cake. I clapped and squealed. “We have rules in this house and number one is there is always a birthday cake.”
She grabbed two spoons and plopped them in the pan.
Moping was of no use. Yet here I was two days later, still in bed, sobbing off and on.
It only proved Nora’s point that I was a doormat when it came to men.
My most recent exes ranged from guys with mommy issues, to the career challenged, and even an “it’s complicated” guy who ended up being married.
Yeah, never trust that profile tag. Why couldn't I just find someone who got me?
Nora was right, I always went for the wrong guys.
The fixers. I thought I had changed my ways when I met Wes at a Twisters game.
He was a little uptight and his friends were similar, but I felt like I was hanging out with the ultra-cool kids back in high school, down to the mean-girl attitudes.
I was a glutton and tried to fit in. But my love of baseball, bad-bitch music, and steak, never fit, no matter how hard I tried.
When Wes and I were out, it felt like a social experiment, but behind closed doors, we matched in more ways than one.
That was probably why we stayed together for the past eight months.
He was right, thinking back. I was deluding myself. We barely had time together and when we did, we got drinks, went to his place, and banged. I was never allowed to stay the night. Wes said he couldn’t sleep next to anyone. The signs were clear and I’d misread them. We were just fuck buddies.
My bedroom door swung open and startled the shit out of me. I clutched my sheets to my chest as Nora shouted, “Get out of the damn bed and go shower! I can smell you from my room.”
I huffed. “It’s not that bad.”
She cocked her head and raised her sculpted eyebrow. “You smell like the ass of a donkey who had an orgy in a barn behind the garbage dump.”
“Ouch,” I replied, tucking my nose towards my chest and sniffing. It took every ounce of energy to suppress my gag. It was that bad. Groaning, I rolled out of bed, stepping over the litter of takeout and boxed wine.
“And clean your room!” she shouted over her shoulder.
“Yes, Mom!” I hollered back, only to hear the front door of our condo close.
I mulled around the pile of trash, deciding to clean before taking a shower.
I went into the kitchen, grabbed a large black garbage bag, and picked up the trail of litter from the kitchen to my room.
By the look of the takeout bins and over-spilling food, you would have thought this was the aftereffects of a frat party and not a two-day pity party.
After I was done, I jumped in the shower and did the same to myself. I scrubbed away all the memories of Wes. Or at least tried to.
Monday morning came and I decided to let go of the disappointment of the weekend and focus on work.
Since I couldn’t sleep, I headed in early.
The stadium was quiet, except for the humming of the floor-cleaning machine making its rounds.
Most of the lights were still dimmed when I entered the training room.
I left in my earbuds and cranked up Marianas Trench.
The mood hit just right as I belted it out, cleaning off the equipment before the team strolled in.
Something about the process was therapeutic, not to mention the angry screaming of the lyrics was on point for me, as I danced throughout the space until it was over.
A loud whistle startled me.
“Encore!” Josh snickered from the doorway in his navy Twisters sweats and fitted soft grey t-shirt that clung to his strong arms. His hat was flipped backwards and his gear bag was dropped at his feet.
Why did he look so freaking good in sweats and I looked like I barely escaped the aftermath of my emotional weekend in mine?
“What are you doing here so early?”
Ignoring me, he smiled. “You sing great! You should do it more often. You held that note well.”
“You didn’t answer me.” I raised my eyebrow, trying to ignore the compliment that was giving me butterflies.
“Couldn't sleep.” He shrugged. “You?”
“Same.”
“Mind if I, uh...” He pointed to the elliptical machine I’d just wiped down.
I moved out of his way. “Didn't you have a hot date last night? Figured you'd be down to the wire today.”
“Don’t ask,” he muttered, setting the pace of the machine to a brisk walk.
“Shot down again, huh?” I mused.
His glare was an unmistakable fuck off. I was intrigued.
“Dating disasters?” I continued, not exactly sure why I wanted to know more.
He scowled and mumbled something about having no idea. Except, I did.
“More than you think.” I laughed humorlessly.
There was an awkward pause between us that I chose to ignore. I moved off to the side to prep my office while he stripped his shirt off, exposing his sculpted abs. I pulled down the hem of my shirt to make sure my muffin top hadn't spilled over my pants. That would be my luck.
After a few minutes, Josh’s phone went off like it was a hotline. At first, he ignored it, but something caught his attention. Then he was all smiles and goofy grins. It shouldn't have mattered, but something about it bothered me.
“New girl?” I asked as he climbed down from his machine.
His shaved chest was glistening under his sweat, which should not have been attractive and yet, my eyes raked over him like he was a shiny new play toy. He was not.
“Maybe.” Josh smirked.
I rolled my eyes. “Thought that last one was terrible?”
“Yup, but here’s to hoping this one isn’t.”
I wagged my finger at him. “Just don't go pulling anything I have to fix tomorrow.”
He let out a deep laugh. “Then where’s the fun?”
“Not in your pants.”
He kissed his teeth. “Still bitter I see.”
I glanced around to make sure no one else was paying any attention to us. “Haven't thought about it at all.”
“Now who’s the liar?” His eyes flickered at mine. There was a gleam in those amber hues of his that made my stomach clench. My face flushed and he smirked. “Thought so.”
Before I could respond, he grabbed his towel and headed into the showers.
Jerk. I turned on my heel and stormed back to my closet of an office, mostly to hide from my embarrassment.
Yeah, we had a thing for a hot second after the fair a couple of years ago.
In a moment of self-doubt, pity, and a whole lot of beer, I flirted with Josh to get back at Jake, who was already into someone else.
I was shocked when Josh returned the flirt and made a move on me; I’d thought he was joking.
A guy like Josh Davidson, into me? Yeah, right.
He must have lost a bet or something. My ego wasn’t in the mood to play dumb games, so I’d tested to see how far he’d go.
It was pretty fucking over the line, but not all the way.
I let self-doubt crawl in again and bailed.
I don’t think about it anymore, because it seemed like it didn’t even happen, and I was embarrassed by throwing myself at him.