“I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. I think Keith will be proud of you. I know you keep saying you want to prove yourself before you tell him, and I understand why you think you need to do that, but you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone other than you.”
“Now you sound like Lyric.”
She cocks an eyebrow at me as if to say, yeah, duh. I release a silent breath, my body deflating along with it.
“You’re right. I know you are. It’s just that Keith still treats me like his baby sister, with a heavy emphasis on baby. He’s loving and supportive and wonderful. I just want to do this on my own and he would have unintentionally made that difficult in the name of helping me.”
“And you think Henry will tell him?”
I snort at that, rolling my eyes derisively. “I know he will. Those boys do not keep secrets. It’s like some kind of pact. Ever since everything that went down between Jasper, Gus, and Viola, they hold nothing back.”
She gets a wicked gleam in her eyes as she leans forward, planting her elbows on her thighs and intertwining her fingers. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I think the fact that Henry devoured you in a club and still wants to drink you up like a fine wine is still very much a secret.”
I scoff bitterly, giving her my back as I go to the fridge and grab a bottle of water. I offer her one, but she shakes me off. Twisting the cap, I take a large pull, but her challenging eyes haven’t left me. I groan, setting the bottle on the counter. “Yes, I’m sure Keith doesn’t know about what happened in the club. But trust me, Henry is as done with me as I am with him.”
She points a stern finger at me, matching it with a cocked eyebrow and a who are you kidding expression. “You said he was waiting at your car? Why do that if he didn’t want to see you? He could have pretended he didn’t see you when he was getting on the elevator if that were the case.”
I play with the paper wrapper on the water bottle. “He thought I was stalking him, Jess. He wasn’t exactly looking for a repeat.”
“You forget I was there that night. I saw the way he was watching you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you and then he was all over you,” she says, tilting her head, her knowing smile spreading like the Cheshire Cat.
“That was before he knew who I was. Add to that, I look very different now than I did that night.”
“Agreed. You look better. Did he at least apologize?”
“Yes. He said he was sorry he didn’t recognize me that night. But seriously, I don’t want to talk about Henry anymore.” I take another swig of my water.
“Fine. All I’m saying is if a guy doesn’t want you, he wouldn’t wait for you at your car just to accuse you of stalking him and then apologize.”
I shake my head at that, refusing to acknowledge her point.
It’s nothing but detrimental to my resolve to hate him for all eternity. Any affection I ever harbored for Henry Gauthier died three years ago.
Besides, Henry is irrelevant.
I’m done with men. All men. Especially the too good-looking for my own good cocky ones.
“Hot purple hair, I don’t care,” I tell her, making her laugh. “With any luck, I can dodge him like a bullet and won’t have to see him again for at least a few months.” I clap my hands together, rubbing them back and forth. “Now, onto better things. What are we doing tonight? I finished Cyber’s Law’s album today. My first official solo produced songs on it. I’m thinking lots of good alcohol, homemade Mexican food is a must, and an overdose of Marvel’s Chrises.”
Jess taps her bottom lip, pinning me with me a look I know too well. It makes my heart instantly gallop into a sprint.
“What? Why are you staring at me like that?”
“I’m debating the wisdom of showing you something after you’ve already had a long day and a run-in with the guy you’ve been obsessed with since you were five who you now claim to hate. Or at the very least, maybe I should get you drunk first?”
“You realize you now have to show me this very second, right?”
She purses her pink lips to the side, watching me carefully.
“Jess!”
“Ugh. Fine.” She slaps her hands to her thighs. “But I warned you. That’s all I’m saying. After we go down this dark and stormy path, we will drink. And you’ll cook because that’s your second happy place. And watch all the movies.”
Oh boy. This isn’t going to be good.
She hops off the counter, determined steps leading her to the family room. I follow, already jittery and sick even before my eyes zero in on a box on the coffee table I hadn’t noticed previously. “This came for you today. I was tempted to bash it like a piñata and then throw the fucking thing in the trash chute. Say the word and I’ll do that now. Happily. I’ll even let you take the first swing with the bat. I have my daddy’s Louisville under my bed.”
I glance up, meeting her eyes for a fleeting second before nervously returning to the box.
It’s big. It takes up half of our goddamn coffee table.
It’s also a present. Not the sort of thing that is delivered in the mail or by UPS. This big white box with the perfect black satin bow was hand-delivered.
Black. The color he hated me wearing most. “It might not be—”
“You know it is.”
I nod. I do know it is.
I try to swallow past the lump of emotion clogging my throat but it’s futile. Those slimy bastards have already been choking me all evening. Now this. Why is he doing this to me? Upping the ante this way? He’s still calling and sending me texts. Now this present…
“He didn’t—”
“I don’t know,” she says. “It was just sitting outside our door when I got home from class.”
“Christ. This day.” I scrub my hands up and down my face, trying to muster the courage I do not feel. “The hits just keep on coming. One asshole after the other. Why can’t men learn how to fuck themselves and leave us out of it?”
“Now you appreciate why I was reluctant to show you.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Trash chute or opening it?”
I don’t know. I should throw it out and never look back. I don’t return his calls or texts. Ever. But I do read the texts and listen to his voice messages. Each and every one if for no other reason than to remind me why I made the right choice.
A choice that still hurts like hell.
“Open it. But I need a shot first.”
“That’s my girl. Vodka or tequila?”
I pop a ‘are you for real with that question’ eyebrow.
“Right. Tequila. What was I thinking?”
I continue to stare until she returns with the bottle of Patron from the freezer and two small juice glasses. She pours us each a shot plus a little extra for the devil to join in my pity party and then we down them in one swift go.
“Crumb bars, that’s rough. Wooh!” Jess wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. I don’t even taste it. I can drink like a sailor on leave mixed with that chick from the first Indiana Jones movie who goes shot for shot. I have no limit.
She plops down on the couch, reaching out and drawing the box closer to her as if she expects me to follow her lead. I do but mostly because I’m not sure I can stand anymore. Suddenly my legs feel numb, which I don’t understand since my heart is beating so fast.