Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
maddox
Snuggled on my couch with my dog Tsuki, I let “Coaster” by Khalid blast through the speakers and close my eyes, singing along.
His American Teen album has been on repeat since I got back from Dauntless earlier today.
I skip the happy, upbeat tracks and focus on the melancholic songs that reflect my current feelings.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call from Elijah.
I release a groan. Knowing him, he’s probably calling to invite me to the club tonight, but I’m not in the mood. Hitting the green button, I accept the call while trying to come up with excuses for why I can’t go.
“Hey, what’s up, man?”
“Not much, bro. What are you up to right now?”
“I just woke up from a nap.”
If he knew what I really was doing, he’d never let me hear the end of it.
“What are you doing napping so late?” he asks, a hint of confusion lacing his voice.
Glancing at my watch, I check the time—it’s seven o’clock. It was a little past one when I came home.
Damn. Have I been sulking for that long?
“I don’t know, man. I was just watching a show and passed the hell out,” I reply.
“Well, I was calling to see if you wanted to come over and chill. I invited Andrés and Santiago. We can grill some burgers and have some drinks.”
Santiago is a year older than Elijah and me, and we all grew close when we were on the basketball team in high school. He was pretty damn good at it, but decided to pursue a career in healthcare instead.
“By ‘we,’ you mean you and Santiago, right? I think I’d end up burning your penthouse down.”
Elijah chuckles on the other line.
Unfortunately, Okāsan’s skills in the kitchen were not something I inherited.
I’ve attempted to cook a few times, but it’s always a disaster.
Being back home and having easy access to her cooking is a blessing.
When I lived in Houston, I had to hire a private chef.
Although the meals were good, nothing beats a home-cooked meal.
“So you coming over or what? You can sit there and look pretty while us men do all the work,” he teases.
“You act like Andrés does much of anything.” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “But yes, I’ll be there.”
“Alright, man. I’ll see you later.”
The line disconnects, and I get up to change. Listening to sad music for hours on end probably isn’t the best way to spend a Friday night. Hopefully kicking it with the boys will help me get my mind off of her.
“So what do you think?” Elijah watches me as I take a bite of the burger. He tends to seek validation every time he cooks.
“It’s not bad.” I shrug, keeping my expression neutral. “Could use a bit of seasoning.”
“Not bad?” His expression shifts into a frown. “I even added mushrooms to your burger, just like you like it.”
The burger is delicious and cooked to perfection, but watching Elijah’s reaction is priceless.
“How’s your burger, man?” He turns his attention to Andrés in hopes that he’ll give him a better response than I did.
“It’s a bit dry,” Andrés says flatly. “Good job on fries, though, Santiago.” Reaching over, he grabs another handful from the plate, stuffing it in his mouth.
“Thanks, man. It was my first time making them from scratch,” Santiago says.
Elijah stares at the ground, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
We exchange glances, suppressing our laughter.
“What’s so funny?” he snaps, shooting us all a glare.
“We’re just messing with you.” I punch him playfully on the arm. “The burger tastes amazing.”
His face lights up, a cocky grin sliding across his lips. “I knew you boys were just bullshitting. Everything I cook is top tier.” He grabs the burger and takes a bite, a satisfied hum escaping his lips. “Damn, I did a good job. If I wasn’t an NBA player, I could be an award-winning chef.”
“This is exactly why we don’t give you compliments.” Santiago rolls his eyes. “You always get a big ole head.”
Santiago’s four-year-old son Isaiah walks up to him, showing him his plate. “Papi, I finished my food. Can I get some ice cream now?” All of his fries were gone, but he’s only taken a small bite of his burger.
“No, mijo. You need to eat at least half of your burger.”
“But I want ice cream,” he pouts.
Santiago crosses his arms, fixing him with a stern look. “If you don’t eat more of your burger, you won’t get any ice cream.”
“Okay.” Isaiah sighs, climbing on the couch and squeezing between Santiago and me as he munches on his burger.
The resemblance between the two of them is uncanny. Big hazel eyes, the same upturned nose, and thick curly hair.
Santiago’s ex, Gabriela, left without a word when Isaiah was only a year old. He hasn’t heard from her since. The fucked-up thing is he later found out Gabriela had been cheating on him a few months after their son was born. I guess she couldn’t handle being a mother.
He was accepted into medical school, but had to give it all up so he could raise his son. Santiago’s father helps out when he can, but he’s busy running his own business.
“I ate more of the burger! See?” Isaiah says, grinning widely.
“Good job, mijo! I’ll get you some ice cream now.” Santiago smiles, ruffling Isaiah’s hair.
Santiago returns with a bowl of Oreo ice cream, and Isaiah claps his hands. He takes a big spoonful and the ice cream smears all over his mouth. “This is so yummy. Do you want some ice cream, Uncle Maddox?”
“No, I’m not ready for dessert yet,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m gonna eat another burger.”
“Another one?” He gasps, his big brown eyes bulging out. “How can you eat so much?”
The guys erupt in laughter.
“He always eats like he’s been starving for days,” Elijah says.
“Be a dear and fix me another plate.”
“Get your own damn plate,” he replies, settling deeper in his seat. “I’m comfortable right now. I don’t feel like getting up.”
“You’re a bullshit-ass host.” I get up from my seat, and Elijah flips me the middle finger.
When I return from the kitchen, Andrés glances up. “So, how did the meeting at Dauntless go?”
I haven’t brought it up, and I was hoping they would forget about it. But I’ve been talking about the collaboration with the guys all week because of how excited I was.
“It went well.” Picking my beer up, I take a swig. “I’m going back next week to discuss in more detail what I want.”
“Sweet. I’m so excited for you, man,” Santiago says with a smile. “I love their clothes. They have the best quality.”
Elijah wiggles his brows, a devilish smirk dancing on his face. “Were the fashion designers hot?”
The encounter I had with Annalise flashes through my mind, her harsh words replaying.
“Nothing you do could ever fix things between us. So do us both a favor and stop trying, okay?”
The bottle digs into my palms as I grip it tighter, my knuckles whitening. My vision blurs and the world around me begins to sway out of focus.
“Hey, man, you good?” Santiago pats me on the shoulder, worry etched in his face.
Taking a deep breath in, I stare at the ground. “I, uh… I saw Annalise today.”
The room falls silent at the mention of her name. Everyone stops what they’re doing. They stare at me, anxiously waiting for me to continue.
Tipping my beer back, I chug the rest of it and then bring them up to date on what happened.
“Damn, bro. That must’ve been hard,” Santiago says softly.
“Seeing her again… Did it bring back any old feelings?” Andrés asks.
I wave my hand in the air. “Nah. That ship sailed a long time ago. I’ve moved on with my life. If she doesn’t want to try to be cordial, so be it.” The lie tastes sour on my tongue.
“He’ll be fine, boys. All he needs is a sexy lady to warm his bed tonight.” Elijah holds his fist out, and I bump it.
“Yep. Nothing a good lay can’t fix.” I smile, but I can tell it doesn't quite reach my eyes.
“Fucking around and avoiding your feelings isn’t healthy, man.” Santiago shakes his head.
“What feelings?” I scoff. “I’m over her.”
Pulling my phone out, I scroll through my contacts and shoot a text to Hannah Chen, a model I’ve hooked up with in the past.
What are you doing tonight?
She replies within seconds.
Hannah
Hopefully you
Andrés leans forward, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Come on, man. Annalise broke your fucking heart. You’re gonna sit there and tell me seeing her again didn’t hurt?”
Ignoring him, I continue texting Hannah.
“You pretend like you don’t care,” he presses, “but I know—”
I slam my palms against the couch cushions. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore! I just want to have a nice night with my boys,” I say, forcing a smile. “I am fine. Trust me.”
Santiago clears his throat and starts telling us a funny story about Isaiah in order to ease the tension. No one has the balls to mention Annalise again.
From the moment I enter Hannah’s apartment, she wastes no time. Dragging me to her bedroom, she gets on top of me and starts kissing me aggressively.
“I want to feel you in my mouth.” She licks the side of my neck while rubbing me through my jeans.
My phone starts buzzing. I pull it out of my pocket to silence it, but my stomach somersaults when I see who’s calling.
Annalise’s name lights up my phone. Her smiling face fills the screen, a photo I took of her on the beach, sunlight dancing on her skin. It was from our summer before college—before everything changed. I couldn’t bring myself to delete her number after we broke up.
So much for getting her off my mind tonight…
“Hey, I gotta take this call.” I gently push Hannah off of me and climb off the bed.
She stares at me in disbelief as I walk out of her bedroom.
“Monroe? Are you okay?” I ask, pressing the phone to my ear.
“Hey, Kamadooo,” she drawls.
I hear the muffled thump of music in the background—she’s definitely at the club.
“You know, I really hate yooou. But I really wanna fuuuck yooou.”
Okay—she’s plastered.
“Oh, is that so?”
“I want you to bend me ooover Veronica’s desk.”