Chapter 2
Chapter Two
DOTTIE
I t doesn’t take us long until we are stumbling through the club, legless, and laughing our damn heads off. Arrie has been hit on more times than I can count, and me, well I just give them the death stare, and they leave me the hell alone.
Moving toward the bathrooms, Arrie breaks off from me, yelling she’s grabbing us a drink. I wave her off, bumping into bodies as the music thumps loudly in my veins. It makes me feel alive.
Rushing into the bathroom, I’m pleasantly surprised to find an unoccupied one. I step into the stall and slam the door closed. Flicking the buttons off my overalls, they pool at my feet, and I shimmy down my thong and sit on the toilet.
Sweet relief.
That’s how I feel as I relieve myself. I sit there for longer than intended, until my phone goes off. I bend down to retrieve my it from my bag.
The notification blinks on the screen, my belly dipping when I see where it’s from . It’s the discreet dating site I signed up to a few months after a drunken night with Arrie, reaming me about not getting laid.
I hesitate, hovering over the icon, and just as I’m about to click on it, someone bangs on the door, startling me. Jumping up, I hold the phone tight in my hand before pulling myself together and exiting the toilet stall. A goth looking girl gives me the evil eye and shoulder checks me.
Ok then.
Tucking my phone in my pocket, I wash my hands, look over my makeup and head to the bar. I find Arrie sitting on a stool with her phone in her hands. She’s typing away, swaying on the seat, oblivious to what’s going on around her.
When I approach her, her head snaps up, tears swimming in her green eyes. Glancing to her phone, she swipes out of the message and wipes her eyes. I don’t hesitate, I grab her hand and haul her up.
“Where are we going?”
“Home!” I shout back.
“But why?”
“Because you’re not having fun, babes. You’re messaging Adam, right?” I scream over the music, weaving through the crowd.
One glance over my shoulder solidifies my assumption.
“I─I…”
“Let’s get you home.”
An hour later, we are sitting around my loungeroom drinking margaritas and eating pizza. We laugh, we cry, hell, we reminisce over our time together, but the conversation always comes back to Adam and Connor. She’s in in knots over them, and I don’t know how to help her.
“Anyway, enough about me. Did you meet anyone from that dating site?”
I feel my cheeks warm .
“Ooohh. You have?”
“No,” I rush out. “I was talking to someone, but it didn’t eventuate.”
“How come?”
I shrug my shoulders, heat spreading throughout me with the image he last sent me. The Tin Man . That’s his handle. But it didn’t matter anymore, that was a month ago, and we both agreed regardless of the chemistry we felt through our texting, we were both in different places in our lives.
“Why are you blushing, bish?” Arrie slurs, yawning.
“No reason,” I say, wanting to keep our conversations private. “Anyway, I’m beat, and you’re yawning like no tomorrow. We should get some shut eye.”
Arrie yawns again, stands up and stretches, falling into the lounge with a giggle. “I am going to be soooo hungover tomorrow.”
“Today.”
“What?”
“Today. It’s three in the morning.”
“Fuck,” she grouses, leering at her phone.
“Message him.”
“I did. He needs time.”
“Well, that’s something.”
Arrie shrugs but doesn’t reply.
“I’m going to send an email quickly and then I’ll come to bed.”
We say our goodnights, and when Arrie disappears down the hallway, I gnaw on my lip and reach for my phone. The light blinks incessantly, causing my tummy to dip. I flop down on the sofa and open the notification. My heart thrashes around in my chest when I see his name on the screen.
Tin Man
I hesitate a moment longer before clicking on his message.
I know we said we wouldn’t talk anymore, but I can’t seem to get you out of my head.
I smile stupidly at the message, because if I’m honest with myself, I’ve missed our chats as well. How can I miss someone I’ve never met?
Fuck it.
I type out a message:
Aw, you missed me?
And when he pops back online, I shriek and throw my phone, but quickly grab it when I hear it sound again.
How could I not, Blossom?
Blossom. It makes me smile again. I didn’t want to use my real name, so I used Cherry Blossom, and ever since we started messaging, he’s called me Blossom.
I thought you were at a point in your life where you couldn’t be messaging young girls anymore?
I type back, hating that a part of me resented him for calling me young, for making me enjoy our chats, only to cut me off.
For making me feel as if he was abandoning me, like I wasn’t good enough.
I am. Like I said, I can’t get you out of my head, and that last picture you sent me has haunted my dreams… You’re dangerous, Blossom .
I read over the message a few more times before responding.
Dangerous how?
You make me want to be selfish. That’s something I’ve never allowed myself to be. But with you… You make it seem possible.
My fingers fly over the keypad a few times before I erase everything I wrote. I want to be selfish, too, but can I allow myself to fall for someone I don’t know? To allow myself to be vulnerable like I was growing up and living with my parents.
No. I can’t be that girl anymore. I won’t.
Instead of replying, I exit the app, guilt overwhelming me.
My hands shake the longer I hold my phone, and when I finally force myself to put it down, it’s with a reluctance I don’t understand.
However, I don’t allow myself to wallow in the what-ifs or the whys of my emotions.
Instead, I walk to my room and slide into my king-sized bed beside Arrie.
She’s curled around a pillow on the far end, and I briefly wonder if she cried herself to sleep. Pulling the blanket over her, I roll over to my side away from her.
Uncle Damon springs to mind, memories swirling viciously inside of me as I remember all of his kindness and willingness to include me in all of his and Arrie’s adventures.
It warms me from within. That’s what I see, and it surprises me how even after all these years, he can still pull these feelings from me.
Cowardly, I blame it on Arrie being here and my conversation with Tin Man. I want to let go, to feel something other than the hollowness and mistrust that poisons my body, but I promised myself I would never allow myself to be defenceless again .
To be weak .
But in in the dark, with no one to see or judge me, with only my thoughts and my best friend beside me; I allow myself this moment. I allow myself to think of him. Bright, sparkling, blue eyes, a killer smile, and inked muscles for days.
And it makes me smile.
I wake the next morning with a headache, Arrie snoring beside me while her phone beeps constantly.
Groaning, I fling my legs over the side of the bed and grab myself some painkillers and mineral water.
Once I’ve downed them, I pop a couple more and place them and some water on the bedside table on Arrie’s side.
Her makeup has run down her cheeks; she did cry herself to sleep. Anger works its way through my system, but I push it down. I will be here for her, but I learned a long time ago no one can save you from yourself, or the skeletons you hide in the closest.
I take one last look at her before moving my ass to the kitchen to make some coffee.
Strong and black, ─ like my soul. The perfect way to enjoy it when one’s fasting.
Entering the small yellow room that is adjoined to my living area, I move to the moka pot on the four-burner stove and unscrew it so I can insert the ground coffee.
Setting it on the stove, I release a breath and move across the kitchen. Leaning against the bench in a long t-shirt, I close my eyes and relax, but just as I do, my phone vibrates on the kitchen table. Sighing, I push off the bench and grab the phone of the table .
Tin Man. Swallowing the saliva collecting in my mouth, my hands tremble over the screen until I finally click on his name.
Did I upset you?
Do I reply, or let sleeping dogs lie?
But then he messages again.
I know it’s stupid, and incredibly out of the blue me texting you, but ever since we agreed on cutting ties a few weeks ago, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you. I miss you, and I’m not sure how or when that happened. That last picture you sent didn’t help matters, you cheeky minx.
I try not to smile at his endearment, or the fact he liked what I sent, but it breaks through regardless, and I start typing.
I don’t know what to say, but I hadn’t expected you to reach out again. I’m not sure what you want from this interaction between us, or if there is anything, but I’m not here to play games. Young or not; I’m too old for that shit.
The dots appear immediately.
Adrenaline takes over, and I feel like a giddy school waiting for his reply.
“Get your shit together, Dottie.” My phone vibrates behind me again, but I force myself to stay on task.
Turning off the coffee, I snatch the moka pot off the stove and pour it into a cup, filling the rest with the hot water.
Moving over to the tap, my palms burn with the need to read his message, especially when it vibrates again. Biting down on my tongue, I turn on the faucet and drip a little cold water into my mug, so the coffee doesn’t give me third degree burns.
I stand there with coffee in hand, my body on fire for a completely different reason. He and I never exchanged photos above the neck, but I’ve seen the rest of his muscled, tan, and tattooed body.
It sends a shiver down my spine and pools right in my traitorous cunt.
“For crying out loud, Dottie. You’re a grown ass woman. Get. Your. Shit. Together,” I scold myself out loud.
Careful not to spill my coffee, I stalk over to the phone and snatch it off the bench.
And the last picture you sent me of you in nothing but a paint-stained white button-down shirt, your neck covered in it, and your lips, those fucking lips I cannot stop thinking of.
But it isn’t only the image, your lips, or how incredibly sexy you are.
I miss our late-night messages, the playful banter—you.
I don’t know how it’s possible with us never having met, or me not even seeing your face, and I know what I said the last time we spoke when I ended our communication…
but Blossom, you make me want to be selfish, so here we fucking are.
I can sense the anger and frustration in his message, the want, the guilt, and the loss of control, but he still reached out, and I can’t tamp down this overwhelming need. I take a sip of my coffee, reading over his messages again and I feel myself burning up for an entirely different reason.
He broke his own rules .
For me.
But what does he expect me to do with that after how we ended things?
I hear a creak behind me.
Locking my phone, I slide it across the bench and blow on my coffee, feeling like I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
“My head feels like it has a herd of tiny, loud and obnoxious children running through it. Fuck my life. Please tell me you have some more of that strong coffee for me.” Arrie groans, and I can’t stop the smile that splits my face.
Our eyes lock and a sense of guilt washes through me. I don’t usually keep anything from Arrie, but the Tin-Man feels like a secret I want to keep a little longer for myself. Something for me.
“You know I got you, Arrie baby.”
She shakes her head.
“Don’t start with your cheerful bullshit. How in the fuck do you never get hungover? Tell me your secrets, bitch. What witchery are you using?”
She takes a seat at the small table and yawns while I laugh at her.
“It’s called drinking water, girl. Duh”
“Hush your hole and pour me a fucking coffee.”
Turning away from her, I start pouring the leftover coffee in her cup, adding a teaspoon sugar and some cream to it like she likes it.
My thoughts are relentless, plaguing me, and my palms itch with the need to reply to him.
It’s probably best Arrie walked in when she did.
I mentally try to convince myself; he’s not calling the shots here, I’m the one in control.
Placing down the cup, I knock my hip into her shoulder, and she curses me.
“Don’t be a cunty hole,” she growls, reaching for the cup and takes a sip. “So fucking good. This is the only reason I haven’t killed you this morning.”
“Yeah. Right. The only reason.”
I take a seat, and we sit in comfortable silence, both lost in our thoughts.
I hesitate for a couple more beats. Fuck it .
“So… What are you going to do about Adam… and Connor?”
Her gaze meets mine, and I regret asking her when a tear slides down her face, but she can’t keep this bottled up.
She’s my cousin, my best friend, and if anyone can help her through this, it’s me.
I need her to open up before this shit swallows her into a deep, black hole she can’t claw her way out of.
Releasing a sigh, she takes another sip of her coffee before replying.
“I don’t ─ don’t know. Connor messaged me last night to see how I was. He asked me what was up with Adam, because he was ghosting him. I told him that we broke up. He didn’t know.”
“Really? They’ve been friends their entire life. He allowed things to progress to that level, and now he’s pissed at you two? I know for a fact neither of you would have done anything if he didn’t consent to it. That’s not who you or Connor are.”
“Yeah…”
“But?”
“I instigated it, Dottie. I shouldn’t have wrestled with Connor, and when I felt him on top of me… hard. Fuck. I feel like I’m cheating on Adam just talking about it and we aren’t even together!” she yells, her frustration taking over.
Reaching over with my free hand, I place it over hers.
“Don’t you dare fucking do this to yourself. You did nothing wrong. Adam is being childish. He was turned on by the action, hell, he allowed his best friend and girlfriend to masturbate together, and now he’s hating himself. You know why?”
Arrie shakes her head.
“He hates that he liked it. That deep down he wants to share you with him, but his jealousy, ego, and pigheadedness is riding shotgun.”
Arrie’s eyes bug wide.
“Do you really believe that?”
“Yeah. Adam has always been possessive when it comes to you.”
She nods her head, looks out the window, and takes another sip of coffee. I can see the cogs ticking over in her mind, but I’ve said my piece, given her another avenue to think about, and now I need to get my shit together and focus on what I’m going to do.
But just as I’m about to excuse myself, Arrie speaks.
“I didn’t tell you this yesterday…. It’s your dad. He’s sick.”