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Chapter Seven - America
“You can’t be in here,” I snap at Gray.
His eyes flash as he crowds me, using his arms on either side of me to pin my back to the edge of the counter. “I thought we were friends.”
“So did I.” I can’t seem to keep the hurt out of my voice.
“You don’t text. You don’t message.” The muscles in his neck cord. “You don’t respond. What the hell is the problem, Rica?”
“I’ve been busy.” I shove at his chest. Why would I want to hurt every time I talk to him? It’s bad enough that his messages bring the things he said to EJ back to the forefront of my thoughts each time. I need to get over these feelings I have for him. I want to move on. “With Everett.”
“That guy…” Gray doesn’t budge no matter how hard I push him, “…is so not your boyfriend.”
“Yes. He is.”
“You didn’t see your face when he said it.” He tips my chin up. “I thought you were going to puke on your shoes. There’s no way you’re actually seriously dating him.”
“Fuck you.” For seeing straight through me. The only reason I didn’t correct Everett then and there was because I wanted Gray to believe it. I wanted him to know I wasn’t hung up on what happened in Positano.
His chest rises and falls sharply under my palm. “Fuck me.”
He crushes his mouth to mine, sweeping his tongue between my lips before I can do more than gasp.
The second I come back into my body, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back. Gray is kissing me like he wants me. It’s confusing and exhilarating and it makes my heart beat wildly.
He grabs my waist and hikes my hip onto the edge of the counter while he kisses me senseless. Spreading my legs, I pull him between them. I shouldn’t. Everett is waiting for us. But I need Gray closer. I need him to ease the pressure before I combust.
Shoving up the material of my dress, he reaches between my thighs and tugs my panties to the side before roughly thrusting two fingers inside me.
“Ohmygod.” I whimper at the sweet invasion. It feels so good. Once was definitely not enough. Not when I’ve loved him for so long.
“You’re so wet, Rica. You’ve been waiting for me all night, haven’t you? Is that why you were so agitated at the table? You need me to fill your greedy pussy again.” He pumps his digits in and out of me, like his sole focus is my impending orgasm. “You like it, don’t you? You like what I do to you.”
Fuck. I shouldn’t. Gray was such an ass in Positano. But God, I do. “Yes, I’m such a dirty little slut for you. Please, Gray.”
“You are my dirty little slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
I hate him right now, but I don’t hate the way he’s talking to me. With his wicked words in my ear and his fingers buried inside me it’s not long before I’m on the edge. It’s not enough. I want more. I want him. “Gray.”
“You want my cock?”
“Yes.” I squirm on his fingers. I’m so needy.
“Say it again,” he says. “Tell me you’re a dirty little slut for me. Tell me you haven’t been able to stop thinking about taking my cock since Positano.”
“I need it, Gray.” I suck on his earlobe. The way he asks… has he been thinking about that night all this time? God, that’s hot. “I’m a dirty little slut that needs your big, thick cock. It’s all I’ve wanted since you fucked me the last time.”
“Christ.” He hisses between his teeth and then he’s fumbling with his pants and replacing his fingers with his cock. He fills me in one quick move, angling his hips to make sure he hits the spots that make my vision swim and my orgasm hard and fast.
He claps his hand over my mouth when I cry out, and spills inside me with a groan. “Good girl. That’s it. Take my cum.”
We cling to each other, breathing hard, but I haven’t gotten my bearings when he says, “I was wrong. You and Everett would be great together.”
“What?” My head spins and the floor drops.
He pulls out and tucks his dick back into his pants. I feel empty in more than one way. I’m hollowed out. “After what we—”
“It shouldn’t have happened.” He shakes his head, stumbling back. He looks ill.
“Like Positano shouldn’t have happened.” I grow chilled from the inside out. How dare he chase me in here and… now he’s… asshole. “Because you could never be with me twice, right? That might suggest you could date me, and we both know that would never happen.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he splutters. “When did we ever discuss dating?”
“We didn’t.” I say icily. “You told EJ that you could never date me.”
His jaw hardens and his eyes turn cold. “Is this why you couldn’t answer a damn text? Because you overheard a conversation that had nothing to do with you?”
“Nothing to do with me?” I scoff as I hop off the counter. “You said it was a mistake. You said you could never be with me after we slept together. Like I’m the last person you could imagine being with. I know I’m not Indy, but—”
“No.” He rubs his hand over his mouth. “You’re not Indy. That’s exactly why I said what I said. I’m still not okay with what happened with Indy. I’m not over it… I’m not over her. You need to understand—”
“No. You need to understand.” My eyes burn, but I blink away the wetness that wants to spring free as I hurry to straighten myself up. He doesn’t want me and I need to be okay with that. I’ve had years to get used to that. But this… for one crazy minute I let myself have hope. “You need to leave me alone.”
“Rica.” He sounds exasperated.
“Don’t talk to me. Don’t you dare.” I fix my makeup in the mirror and check my hair. The color in my cheeks is heightened. Will Everett be able to tell what happened between me and Gray by looking at me?
“You’re right. Everett and I will be good together.” I pick up my clutch. There are a million things I want to say. Like, we used to be friends, or this will never happen again, or I hate you. I definitely want to hate him. “Everett is waiting for me.”
“America, I’m sorry.”
“Great.” I walk away from him. I don’t care if he’s sorry. I don’t care if he means it. God knows how I am supposed to pretend everything is okay when Gray’s cum is leaking down my thigh. When all I want to do is cry.
The bathroom door swings shut between us, and I start my walk of shame. My thighs slip against one another with every step. I cradle my clutch in front of my stomach. Nausea rises up my throat.
“Better?” Everett asks when I take my seat. His hand finds my knee while he studies my face with concern.
“Yes,” I say woodenly, praying he won’t move his hand higher, and that he doesn’t see anything in my face that makes him suspicious. I can’t see him again, not after what I’ve done. But working with Gray could do a lot for his career. I won’t be the reason he chooses not to sign with him. “Just needed a minute. But I’m good now.”
“Certain?” He’s so worried about me it makes my heart ache. Why can’t I turn off these feelings for a man who doesn’t want me? Who will never want me.
“Yes.”
He leans forward and brushes his lips against mine as Gray comes back to the table. When he slips his tongue into my mouth and kisses me like he’s checking every crevice for hidden secrets, I let him. I lean into it. I kiss him back with the same passion. How can I not without making it obvious something is wrong?
Everett smiles when he pulls back, checking out my swollen lips by rolling his thumb over the bottom one. “That’s better.”
“Shall we get back to business?” Gray says, cutting into his steak with sharp, jagged movements that scrape the plate.
“I like what you’re offering so far. How long will it take you to get me transferred to a team in the States?”
“Where are you hoping to go?” Gray asks him while he glowers at me.
What right does he have to be upset with me right now? I can’t stand to lock eyes with him, so I turn all my attention to Everett.
“Chicago.” Everett’s hand slides from my knee to mid-thigh.
I scramble to cover his hand and halt his progress.
He frowns. “Everything okay?”
“Yes.” I glare at Gray while I turn Everett’s hand palm up and slip my fingers between his.
Liar. God, I am such a fucking liar. I’m going to go to hell because of Gray. I always knew I would. I thought it would be for being in love with my best friend’s husband, not for cheap and nasty sex in a posh restroom.
I muster up a smile. “I’m excited about the prospect of you being so close when I move home.”
“You mean it?” Everett asks.
“Mmhmm.” I do mean it. I like him a lot. I like spending time with him. Any feelings I had for Gray that were holding me back have turned into the intense desire to throat punch him with a crystal goblet.
Everett won’t feel the same way about me that he does now if he ever finds out about what occurred in that bathroom. He won’t want me anymore. Any future we could have had I’ve ruined this evening.
“We can put feelers out immediately. I don’t see a problem with finding you a new team to start next season with. They’ll be clamoring to get you.”
“Can I take a couple of days to think about it?” he asks Gray as he leans in to kiss me again. “I’d like to give my agency the chance to come back with a counter. We haven’t been seeing eye-to-eye lately, but I’ve been with them since I started.”
“Of course.” Gray stands as Everett does. “I think we can do some fantastic things together if you choose to go with All-Star.”
“I’ll be in touch.” Everett lifts me to my feet and tucks me into his side.
“Gray,” I say by way of goodbye, trying to hide the icy rage in my tone.
“America.” His nod is stilted.
With his arm around my shoulders, Everett says, “Come on, Lucky Charm. I’ve been on my best behavior, but all I can think about is having you all to myself. I can’t wait to see that pretty number you’re wearing under this dress again.”
He guides me away from the table as Gray starts to cough like he’s choking on something. When I glance back, he’s staring at me like… like I don’t know what, but there’s something in those glacial blues that isn’t usually there.
It gives me butterflies and makes my heart skip a beat. The ice in my veins isn’t as thick as I’d hoped it would be.
I turn my back on him. Turn away from those feelings. He couldn’t have been clearer that there is nothing there for me. He’s still in love with Indy. Still broken over her. I need to stop wanting what I can’t have.
His eyes flash as he crowds me, using his arms on either side of me to pin my back to the edge of the counter. “I thought we were friends.”
“So did I.” I can’t seem to keep the hurt out of my voice.
“You don’t text. You don’t message.” The muscles in his neck cord. “You don’t respond. What the hell is the problem, Rica?”
“I’ve been busy.” I shove at his chest. Why would I want to hurt every time I talk to him? It’s bad enough that his messages bring the things he said to EJ back to the forefront of my thoughts each time. I need to get over these feelings I have for him. I want to move on. “With Everett.”
“That guy…” Gray doesn’t budge no matter how hard I push him, “…is so not your boyfriend.”
“Yes. He is.”
“You didn’t see your face when he said it.” He tips my chin up. “I thought you were going to puke on your shoes. There’s no way you’re actually seriously dating him.”
“Fuck you.” For seeing straight through me. The only reason I didn’t correct Everett then and there was because I wanted Gray to believe it. I wanted him to know I wasn’t hung up on what happened in Positano.
His chest rises and falls sharply under my palm. “Fuck me.”
He crushes his mouth to mine, sweeping his tongue between my lips before I can do more than gasp.
The second I come back into my body, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back. Gray is kissing me like he wants me. It’s confusing and exhilarating and it makes my heart beat wildly.
He grabs my waist and hikes my hip onto the edge of the counter while he kisses me senseless. Spreading my legs, I pull him between them. I shouldn’t. Everett is waiting for us. But I need Gray closer. I need him to ease the pressure before I combust.
Shoving up the material of my dress, he reaches between my thighs and tugs my panties to the side before roughly thrusting two fingers inside me.
“Ohmygod.” I whimper at the sweet invasion. It feels so good. Once was definitely not enough. Not when I’ve loved him for so long.
“You’re so wet, Rica. You’ve been waiting for me all night, haven’t you? Is that why you were so agitated at the table? You need me to fill your greedy pussy again.” He pumps his digits in and out of me, like his sole focus is my impending orgasm. “You like it, don’t you? You like what I do to you.”
Fuck. I shouldn’t. Gray was such an ass in Positano. But God, I do. “Yes, I’m such a dirty little slut for you. Please, Gray.”
“You are my dirty little slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
I hate him right now, but I don’t hate the way he’s talking to me. With his wicked words in my ear and his fingers buried inside me it’s not long before I’m on the edge. It’s not enough. I want more. I want him. “Gray.”
“You want my cock?”
“Yes.” I squirm on his fingers. I’m so needy.
“Say it again,” he says. “Tell me you’re a dirty little slut for me. Tell me you haven’t been able to stop thinking about taking my cock since Positano.”
“I need it, Gray.” I suck on his earlobe. The way he asks… has he been thinking about that night all this time? God, that’s hot. “I’m a dirty little slut that needs your big, thick cock. It’s all I’ve wanted since you fucked me the last time.”
“Christ.” He hisses between his teeth and then he’s fumbling with his pants and replacing his fingers with his cock. He fills me in one quick move, angling his hips to make sure he hits the spots that make my vision swim and my orgasm hard and fast.
He claps his hand over my mouth when I cry out, and spills inside me with a groan. “Good girl. That’s it. Take my cum.”
We cling to each other, breathing hard, but I haven’t gotten my bearings when he says, “I was wrong. You and Everett would be great together.”
“What?” My head spins and the floor drops.
He pulls out and tucks his dick back into his pants. I feel empty in more than one way. I’m hollowed out. “After what we—”
“It shouldn’t have happened.” He shakes his head, stumbling back. He looks ill.
“Like Positano shouldn’t have happened.” I grow chilled from the inside out. How dare he chase me in here and… now he’s… asshole. “Because you could never be with me twice, right? That might suggest you could date me, and we both know that would never happen.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he splutters. “When did we ever discuss dating?”
“We didn’t.” I say icily. “You told EJ that you could never date me.”
His jaw hardens and his eyes turn cold. “Is this why you couldn’t answer a damn text? Because you overheard a conversation that had nothing to do with you?”
“Nothing to do with me?” I scoff as I hop off the counter. “You said it was a mistake. You said you could never be with me after we slept together. Like I’m the last person you could imagine being with. I know I’m not Indy, but—”
“No.” He rubs his hand over his mouth. “You’re not Indy. That’s exactly why I said what I said. I’m still not okay with what happened with Indy. I’m not over it… I’m not over her. You need to understand—”
“No. You need to understand.” My eyes burn, but I blink away the wetness that wants to spring free as I hurry to straighten myself up. He doesn’t want me and I need to be okay with that. I’ve had years to get used to that. But this… for one crazy minute I let myself have hope. “You need to leave me alone.”
“Rica.” He sounds exasperated.
“Don’t talk to me. Don’t you dare.” I fix my makeup in the mirror and check my hair. The color in my cheeks is heightened. Will Everett be able to tell what happened between me and Gray by looking at me?
“You’re right. Everett and I will be good together.” I pick up my clutch. There are a million things I want to say. Like, we used to be friends, or this will never happen again, or I hate you. I definitely want to hate him. “Everett is waiting for me.”
“America, I’m sorry.”
“Great.” I walk away from him. I don’t care if he’s sorry. I don’t care if he means it. God knows how I am supposed to pretend everything is okay when Gray’s cum is leaking down my thigh. When all I want to do is cry.
The bathroom door swings shut between us, and I start my walk of shame. My thighs slip against one another with every step. I cradle my clutch in front of my stomach. Nausea rises up my throat.
“Better?” Everett asks when I take my seat. His hand finds my knee while he studies my face with concern.
“Yes,” I say woodenly, praying he won’t move his hand higher, and that he doesn’t see anything in my face that makes him suspicious. I can’t see him again, not after what I’ve done. But working with Gray could do a lot for his career. I won’t be the reason he chooses not to sign with him. “Just needed a minute. But I’m good now.”
“Certain?” He’s so worried about me it makes my heart ache. Why can’t I turn off these feelings for a man who doesn’t want me? Who will never want me.
“Yes.”
He leans forward and brushes his lips against mine as Gray comes back to the table. When he slips his tongue into my mouth and kisses me like he’s checking every crevice for hidden secrets, I let him. I lean into it. I kiss him back with the same passion. How can I not without making it obvious something is wrong?
Everett smiles when he pulls back, checking out my swollen lips by rolling his thumb over the bottom one. “That’s better.”
“Shall we get back to business?” Gray says, cutting into his steak with sharp, jagged movements that scrape the plate.
“I like what you’re offering so far. How long will it take you to get me transferred to a team in the States?”
“Where are you hoping to go?” Gray asks him while he glowers at me.
What right does he have to be upset with me right now? I can’t stand to lock eyes with him, so I turn all my attention to Everett.
“Chicago.” Everett’s hand slides from my knee to mid-thigh.
I scramble to cover his hand and halt his progress.
He frowns. “Everything okay?”
“Yes.” I glare at Gray while I turn Everett’s hand palm up and slip my fingers between his.
Liar. God, I am such a fucking liar. I’m going to go to hell because of Gray. I always knew I would. I thought it would be for being in love with my best friend’s husband, not for cheap and nasty sex in a posh restroom.
I muster up a smile. “I’m excited about the prospect of you being so close when I move home.”
“You mean it?” Everett asks.
“Mmhmm.” I do mean it. I like him a lot. I like spending time with him. Any feelings I had for Gray that were holding me back have turned into the intense desire to throat punch him with a crystal goblet.
Everett won’t feel the same way about me that he does now if he ever finds out about what occurred in that bathroom. He won’t want me anymore. Any future we could have had I’ve ruined this evening.
“We can put feelers out immediately. I don’t see a problem with finding you a new team to start next season with. They’ll be clamoring to get you.”
“Can I take a couple of days to think about it?” he asks Gray as he leans in to kiss me again. “I’d like to give my agency the chance to come back with a counter. We haven’t been seeing eye-to-eye lately, but I’ve been with them since I started.”
“Of course.” Gray stands as Everett does. “I think we can do some fantastic things together if you choose to go with All-Star.”
“I’ll be in touch.” Everett lifts me to my feet and tucks me into his side.
“Gray,” I say by way of goodbye, trying to hide the icy rage in my tone.
“America.” His nod is stilted.
With his arm around my shoulders, Everett says, “Come on, Lucky Charm. I’ve been on my best behavior, but all I can think about is having you all to myself. I can’t wait to see that pretty number you’re wearing under this dress again.”
He guides me away from the table as Gray starts to cough like he’s choking on something. When I glance back, he’s staring at me like… like I don’t know what, but there’s something in those glacial blues that isn’t usually there.
It gives me butterflies and makes my heart skip a beat. The ice in my veins isn’t as thick as I’d hoped it would be.
I turn my back on him. Turn away from those feelings. He couldn’t have been clearer that there is nothing there for me. He’s still in love with Indy. Still broken over her. I need to stop wanting what I can’t have.
Chapter Eight - America
Everett beams from ear to ear once we’re in the car. He pulls into traffic and rests his hand on my knee. “That went well.”
“Did it?” I fight the urge to squirm in my seat. Gray’s mess is still making my thighs tacky. My panties are ruined. If anything, tonight has been a total trainwreck. It couldn’t have gone worse.
“I’m ninety-five percent sure I’m going to sign with your friend,” he says.
He’s not my friend. He’s some asshole that I used to know. I let out a labored breath. Oh how I wish that were true. But the fact that my head is still back at the restaurant with Gray tells me it’s not. “And the other five percent?”
“Three percent is letting my agent come back with a better deal. They won’t, but I want to give them the chance to. Two percent I like to be wined and wooed by the people who’d like their commission to come from my salary.”
We fall into silence as he drives us back to my flat. He tries to inch his hand up my thigh again.
I lean forward and adjust the thermostat then cross my legs.
“You’re not okay,” he says. “What is it?”
“I’m fine.”
“Is it because I called you my girlfriend? I kind of sprung that on you, huh?”
“Considering the conversation we had before we left my flat… yes. I thought we were on the same page about moving slowly and having fun.” My phone starts to ring, and I fetch it from my clutch. Of course Indy is calling me while I’m in free fall over Gray. And Everett is trying to label us.
“Are you going to answer that?” Everett asks.
If I answer it, and she mentions Gray, I’ll have to tell her that I saw him at dinner. And she still mentions him a lot. Because she worries about how he is doing while she’s so happy. EJ refuses to tell her anything more than Gray is alive.
I wish she didn’t feel guilty for being happy. I wish I didn’t feel guilty for my indiscretions. But here we are. If I answer this call and she mentions Gray, and I tell her that I saw him at dinner, then she’ll want to know how he is. And I’m not sure I can answer that question in my current state without my voice giving me away.
Indy will know something is up. Everett will know something is very wrong, and then I’ll have to come clean about what really happened while he sat patiently waiting at the table for Gray and I to stop fucking in the bathroom.
He’ll change his mind about letting Gray represent him, and it will be all my fault when he misses out on the sponsorships and opportunities he really wants. As ill as I am over my behavior, Gray and I are nothing. It won’t happen again. So maybe I don’t need to tell Everett and ruin something that could be great for him. “I’ll call her back.”
The call shuts off and a notification comes through to let me know I missed it. It’s followed by a message from Gray.
Gray: What’s your address? We need to talk when he leaves.
No, thank you. I have nothing to say to him. Nothing I want from him. I drop my phone back in my clutch and stare out the window at the lights of the other cars and the fine drizzle that has started. It suits my mood entirely too well.
“Want to get some dessert?” Everett asks. “If we buy strawberries and whipped cream, and I eat them off you, I don’t think my nutritionist will kill me for going a little off plan.”
“I don’t really feel like dessert,” I say. “I don’t think that fish was good, after all.”
Liar. I close my eyes. The breath that I draw in tastes sour and dirty. Did Indy feel like this when she realized she and Theo were into each other? Or is it because I’m the slut Gray and I whispered about while he fucked me?
Why didn’t I hate that in the heat of the moment when it fills me with so much shame now? I’m an idiot, that’s why.
Gray was clear that anything between us is a mistake. He was transparent that he isn’t over Indy. Still, I went there in Positano. And again, tonight.
“Okay, we’ll watch a movie or something,” he says.
“Actually, I think I’m going to have an early night. If that’s all right,” I say when he turns into the street my flat is on. “I have to work in the morning.”
He pulls the car over and turns off the engine. He looks like he wants to say something for a long pregnant pause, before he climbs out of the car and jogs around to open my door so that he can escort me to my stoop.
Hands in his pockets, he waits for me to unlock the door. “I’m sorry I moved too fast. I don’t know what I was thinking telling him you were my girlfriend when you made it clear you’re not ready for that.”
“Everett.” I don’t want to hurt him.
“But I did mean it. I want you to be my girlfriend. I want other guys to know that you’re with me,” he says. “Because I really like you.”
“I know. And I like you too. But I can’t—"
“We’ll take it slow. As slow as you want.” He pecks me on the cheek. “I know your wary after what happened with your professor. But I promise, you don’t need to be. Just say you’ll let me call you my girlfriend.”
“Everett, that’s not—”
“Don’t say anything now. Give it a couple days.” He jogs toward his car. “We’ll talk later.”
I should end it. I should tell him that I’m incapable of the kind of relationship he wants from me. I’m a screw up. In love with someone who will never love me. A complete twat.
The moment I close the door the wall I’ve put up between me and the rest of the world starts to crumble. My emotions are a tidal wave tonight and that along with the overwhelm of so many sounds and sights and smells brings me to tears. I put my phone on silent and head up to take a shower where I wash away the remnants of Gray’s cum from my thighs and come down from masking all evening. Then I go to the kitchen for the salted caramel and pretzel ice cream I have stashed in the freezer.
Switching on the light, I find Dove sitting on the cold tiles, her back against the washing machine. Her mascara is smudged, the skin around her left eye is puffed up and shiny.
“What the hell?”
“It’s nothing.” She winces.
“It’s not nothing. Did Nathan do this?” Because I will call the cops on the asshole. “I swear to God—”
“You can’t tell anyone.” She grabs my wrist. Her gaze bores into mine. “No one.”
“You can’t let him keep treating you like—”
“You promised me.” Her grip is too tight. “You said you wouldn’t say anything. You wouldn’t do anything to make him mad. Let me handle him.”
I nod. I made that promise when I didn’t realize how bad it was. And I only keep it because she gets this wildly terrified look in her eye when I threaten to help. Like my helping will make the situation worse, and that’s the last thing I want from my friend.
She lets go of my wrist. “Thank you.”
“I don’t understand why you protect him.”
“I’m not protecting him.” She sighs. “It’s my problem. Not yours. I’m doing what I have to.”
“To make your album. I know, but this isn’t okay. You need to get out of your contract with him. There must be other managers that are as good as he is. If not better. You need a good lawyer. I could call EJ. The laws might be different but—”
“You can’t tell him about this.” She gets this look of terror that makes me pause. “Promise me you won’t tell him about this.”
“But—”
“He was a vacation fling. That’s all. If I’d wanted him in my day-to-day life, don’t you think I would have kept in contact?”
“Fine.” Something definitely happened on that Positano trip that she hasn’t told me about, but what? I grab some ice from the freezer and wrap it in a tea towel. “Here. Put this on it.”
“Thanks.” She takes the makeshift cold pack and presses it gently to her eye.
I grab the tub of ice cream and a couple of spoons from the cutlery drawer, before taking a seat on the floor next to her. “You want?”
“Yeah.” She digs a spoonful out and eats it like an icy treat on a stick.
I eat the ice cream in its intended way. One mouthful at a time. “He’s a bastard. A right bell end.”
“Look at you using that term correctly.” She rests her head against the stainless steel appliance. “I hope your night was better than mine.”
“Mmm.” I take my time on a mouthful of ice cream. “The important meeting Everett had was with Gray.”
“Wait?” The eye that isn’t covered by the makeshift cold pack narrows on me. “Your Gray?”
“He’s a sports rep,” I say. “And he’s not my Gray.”
“Uh-oh?”
“Big time.” I groan, putting the ice cream down. “We got into an argument. In the bathroom. We fucked while Everett waited for me to come back.”
“Oh shit.”
“He called me his girlfriend.”
“Gray did?”
“Everett.”
“Oh shit. This is better than the daytime soaps.”
“It’s not.” I bury my head in my hands and massage my temples. “He wouldn’t let me end it tonight, because he thinks that’s why I’ve been weird all evening. Because he’s moving too fast.”
We grow quiet. Lost in our own problems and in each other’s. She really needs to kick Nathan to the curb.
Dove faces me. “So you’re going to call it quits with Everett?”
“I’m not sure. I like him. But after tonight…”
“You could tell him that you want to keep your options open. Especially if you’re going to date Gray too. At least that way you’re giving him the choice. He might even be okay with it in the short term. He seems pretty liberal when it comes to dating if his socials are anything to go by.”
“You stalked him?” Why am I surprised by this?
“That’s why you have friends. If you’d told me about the professor earlier, I would have stalked him too.”
Perhaps if I had I would have avoided that whole mess. “Everett seems really serious about us getting serious though.”
“All you can do is tell him that you want to date—"
“I’m not going to date Gray.” My phone vibrates as if to remind me that it’s better that Gray doesn’t want me. What would Indy think of me? EJ already made it clear to Gray that it would be a terrible idea.
I pick up my phone, and I swear the universe is laughing at me because Gray’s name is attached to more than one notification on my screen.
Gray: Missed call.
Gray: Call me.
Gray: We need to talk, Rica.
Gray: Is he still there?
Gray: I don’t know how to do this. But you need to know I never meant to hurt you.
But he did in Positano. And then he did again tonight. Keeping my distance, at least until I work out how to stop wanting him, is the only way to go. So I swipe away my notifications and put my phone down.
“I don’t really know Gray, but maybe don’t break up with Everett if you have any doubts about doing so. You’ve been happier these last few weeks. I think he might be good for you,” Dove says. “Perhaps tell him that you have a situation, and that you need to keep things casual with him, until you can work through whatever this is with Gray.”
“I don’t need to work anything out with Gray.” I stand and put the ice cream away. Wash the spoons in the sink, before placing them in the strainer. “I don’t want to talk to him. Or see him. And I do like Everett.”
“So…?” She climbs to her feet with slow, cautious movements. Like her eye might not be the only injury she’s sporting tonight.
“I’ll think about it,” I say. “If you’ll think about telling Nathan to shove off.”
“I think about it every damn day,” she says, still pressing the tea towel full of ice against her eye. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I’ll be at work.” I shut off the light as I follow her out of the kitchen. “I’ve got an all day shift. But I can bring home a curry and a bottle of gin. We can watch a movie and have a few drinks.”
“Ooh. Getting plastered sounds like a lovely idea.” Dove disappears into her bedroom. “I’m in. As long as we can swear off men, dicks, and men who are dicks.”
My phone vibrates with another message. Why can’t Gray understand that I don’t want to talk to him? “Because that worked out so well for us last time.”
“Well, you know what they say,” Dove says. She shares a grim look with her bruised face in her floor length mirror. “If at first you don’t succeed, try and try again.”
Except trying not to be in love with Gray has never worked for me either. Avoiding him is my only option. “I think it’s for the best, really.”
“Did it?” I fight the urge to squirm in my seat. Gray’s mess is still making my thighs tacky. My panties are ruined. If anything, tonight has been a total trainwreck. It couldn’t have gone worse.
“I’m ninety-five percent sure I’m going to sign with your friend,” he says.
He’s not my friend. He’s some asshole that I used to know. I let out a labored breath. Oh how I wish that were true. But the fact that my head is still back at the restaurant with Gray tells me it’s not. “And the other five percent?”
“Three percent is letting my agent come back with a better deal. They won’t, but I want to give them the chance to. Two percent I like to be wined and wooed by the people who’d like their commission to come from my salary.”
We fall into silence as he drives us back to my flat. He tries to inch his hand up my thigh again.
I lean forward and adjust the thermostat then cross my legs.
“You’re not okay,” he says. “What is it?”
“I’m fine.”
“Is it because I called you my girlfriend? I kind of sprung that on you, huh?”
“Considering the conversation we had before we left my flat… yes. I thought we were on the same page about moving slowly and having fun.” My phone starts to ring, and I fetch it from my clutch. Of course Indy is calling me while I’m in free fall over Gray. And Everett is trying to label us.
“Are you going to answer that?” Everett asks.
If I answer it, and she mentions Gray, I’ll have to tell her that I saw him at dinner. And she still mentions him a lot. Because she worries about how he is doing while she’s so happy. EJ refuses to tell her anything more than Gray is alive.
I wish she didn’t feel guilty for being happy. I wish I didn’t feel guilty for my indiscretions. But here we are. If I answer this call and she mentions Gray, and I tell her that I saw him at dinner, then she’ll want to know how he is. And I’m not sure I can answer that question in my current state without my voice giving me away.
Indy will know something is up. Everett will know something is very wrong, and then I’ll have to come clean about what really happened while he sat patiently waiting at the table for Gray and I to stop fucking in the bathroom.
He’ll change his mind about letting Gray represent him, and it will be all my fault when he misses out on the sponsorships and opportunities he really wants. As ill as I am over my behavior, Gray and I are nothing. It won’t happen again. So maybe I don’t need to tell Everett and ruin something that could be great for him. “I’ll call her back.”
The call shuts off and a notification comes through to let me know I missed it. It’s followed by a message from Gray.
Gray: What’s your address? We need to talk when he leaves.
No, thank you. I have nothing to say to him. Nothing I want from him. I drop my phone back in my clutch and stare out the window at the lights of the other cars and the fine drizzle that has started. It suits my mood entirely too well.
“Want to get some dessert?” Everett asks. “If we buy strawberries and whipped cream, and I eat them off you, I don’t think my nutritionist will kill me for going a little off plan.”
“I don’t really feel like dessert,” I say. “I don’t think that fish was good, after all.”
Liar. I close my eyes. The breath that I draw in tastes sour and dirty. Did Indy feel like this when she realized she and Theo were into each other? Or is it because I’m the slut Gray and I whispered about while he fucked me?
Why didn’t I hate that in the heat of the moment when it fills me with so much shame now? I’m an idiot, that’s why.
Gray was clear that anything between us is a mistake. He was transparent that he isn’t over Indy. Still, I went there in Positano. And again, tonight.
“Okay, we’ll watch a movie or something,” he says.
“Actually, I think I’m going to have an early night. If that’s all right,” I say when he turns into the street my flat is on. “I have to work in the morning.”
He pulls the car over and turns off the engine. He looks like he wants to say something for a long pregnant pause, before he climbs out of the car and jogs around to open my door so that he can escort me to my stoop.
Hands in his pockets, he waits for me to unlock the door. “I’m sorry I moved too fast. I don’t know what I was thinking telling him you were my girlfriend when you made it clear you’re not ready for that.”
“Everett.” I don’t want to hurt him.
“But I did mean it. I want you to be my girlfriend. I want other guys to know that you’re with me,” he says. “Because I really like you.”
“I know. And I like you too. But I can’t—"
“We’ll take it slow. As slow as you want.” He pecks me on the cheek. “I know your wary after what happened with your professor. But I promise, you don’t need to be. Just say you’ll let me call you my girlfriend.”
“Everett, that’s not—”
“Don’t say anything now. Give it a couple days.” He jogs toward his car. “We’ll talk later.”
I should end it. I should tell him that I’m incapable of the kind of relationship he wants from me. I’m a screw up. In love with someone who will never love me. A complete twat.
The moment I close the door the wall I’ve put up between me and the rest of the world starts to crumble. My emotions are a tidal wave tonight and that along with the overwhelm of so many sounds and sights and smells brings me to tears. I put my phone on silent and head up to take a shower where I wash away the remnants of Gray’s cum from my thighs and come down from masking all evening. Then I go to the kitchen for the salted caramel and pretzel ice cream I have stashed in the freezer.
Switching on the light, I find Dove sitting on the cold tiles, her back against the washing machine. Her mascara is smudged, the skin around her left eye is puffed up and shiny.
“What the hell?”
“It’s nothing.” She winces.
“It’s not nothing. Did Nathan do this?” Because I will call the cops on the asshole. “I swear to God—”
“You can’t tell anyone.” She grabs my wrist. Her gaze bores into mine. “No one.”
“You can’t let him keep treating you like—”
“You promised me.” Her grip is too tight. “You said you wouldn’t say anything. You wouldn’t do anything to make him mad. Let me handle him.”
I nod. I made that promise when I didn’t realize how bad it was. And I only keep it because she gets this wildly terrified look in her eye when I threaten to help. Like my helping will make the situation worse, and that’s the last thing I want from my friend.
She lets go of my wrist. “Thank you.”
“I don’t understand why you protect him.”
“I’m not protecting him.” She sighs. “It’s my problem. Not yours. I’m doing what I have to.”
“To make your album. I know, but this isn’t okay. You need to get out of your contract with him. There must be other managers that are as good as he is. If not better. You need a good lawyer. I could call EJ. The laws might be different but—”
“You can’t tell him about this.” She gets this look of terror that makes me pause. “Promise me you won’t tell him about this.”
“But—”
“He was a vacation fling. That’s all. If I’d wanted him in my day-to-day life, don’t you think I would have kept in contact?”
“Fine.” Something definitely happened on that Positano trip that she hasn’t told me about, but what? I grab some ice from the freezer and wrap it in a tea towel. “Here. Put this on it.”
“Thanks.” She takes the makeshift cold pack and presses it gently to her eye.
I grab the tub of ice cream and a couple of spoons from the cutlery drawer, before taking a seat on the floor next to her. “You want?”
“Yeah.” She digs a spoonful out and eats it like an icy treat on a stick.
I eat the ice cream in its intended way. One mouthful at a time. “He’s a bastard. A right bell end.”
“Look at you using that term correctly.” She rests her head against the stainless steel appliance. “I hope your night was better than mine.”
“Mmm.” I take my time on a mouthful of ice cream. “The important meeting Everett had was with Gray.”
“Wait?” The eye that isn’t covered by the makeshift cold pack narrows on me. “Your Gray?”
“He’s a sports rep,” I say. “And he’s not my Gray.”
“Uh-oh?”
“Big time.” I groan, putting the ice cream down. “We got into an argument. In the bathroom. We fucked while Everett waited for me to come back.”
“Oh shit.”
“He called me his girlfriend.”
“Gray did?”
“Everett.”
“Oh shit. This is better than the daytime soaps.”
“It’s not.” I bury my head in my hands and massage my temples. “He wouldn’t let me end it tonight, because he thinks that’s why I’ve been weird all evening. Because he’s moving too fast.”
We grow quiet. Lost in our own problems and in each other’s. She really needs to kick Nathan to the curb.
Dove faces me. “So you’re going to call it quits with Everett?”
“I’m not sure. I like him. But after tonight…”
“You could tell him that you want to keep your options open. Especially if you’re going to date Gray too. At least that way you’re giving him the choice. He might even be okay with it in the short term. He seems pretty liberal when it comes to dating if his socials are anything to go by.”
“You stalked him?” Why am I surprised by this?
“That’s why you have friends. If you’d told me about the professor earlier, I would have stalked him too.”
Perhaps if I had I would have avoided that whole mess. “Everett seems really serious about us getting serious though.”
“All you can do is tell him that you want to date—"
“I’m not going to date Gray.” My phone vibrates as if to remind me that it’s better that Gray doesn’t want me. What would Indy think of me? EJ already made it clear to Gray that it would be a terrible idea.
I pick up my phone, and I swear the universe is laughing at me because Gray’s name is attached to more than one notification on my screen.
Gray: Missed call.
Gray: Call me.
Gray: We need to talk, Rica.
Gray: Is he still there?
Gray: I don’t know how to do this. But you need to know I never meant to hurt you.
But he did in Positano. And then he did again tonight. Keeping my distance, at least until I work out how to stop wanting him, is the only way to go. So I swipe away my notifications and put my phone down.
“I don’t really know Gray, but maybe don’t break up with Everett if you have any doubts about doing so. You’ve been happier these last few weeks. I think he might be good for you,” Dove says. “Perhaps tell him that you have a situation, and that you need to keep things casual with him, until you can work through whatever this is with Gray.”
“I don’t need to work anything out with Gray.” I stand and put the ice cream away. Wash the spoons in the sink, before placing them in the strainer. “I don’t want to talk to him. Or see him. And I do like Everett.”
“So…?” She climbs to her feet with slow, cautious movements. Like her eye might not be the only injury she’s sporting tonight.
“I’ll think about it,” I say. “If you’ll think about telling Nathan to shove off.”
“I think about it every damn day,” she says, still pressing the tea towel full of ice against her eye. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I’ll be at work.” I shut off the light as I follow her out of the kitchen. “I’ve got an all day shift. But I can bring home a curry and a bottle of gin. We can watch a movie and have a few drinks.”
“Ooh. Getting plastered sounds like a lovely idea.” Dove disappears into her bedroom. “I’m in. As long as we can swear off men, dicks, and men who are dicks.”
My phone vibrates with another message. Why can’t Gray understand that I don’t want to talk to him? “Because that worked out so well for us last time.”
“Well, you know what they say,” Dove says. She shares a grim look with her bruised face in her floor length mirror. “If at first you don’t succeed, try and try again.”
Except trying not to be in love with Gray has never worked for me either. Avoiding him is my only option. “I think it’s for the best, really.”
Chapter Nine - Gray
It’s raining as I flip the collar on my woolen jacket up and open the umbrella I purchased from a corner shop early this morning. The pavement is pewter, the sky too. Everything is about as cheery as my mood.
And this last coffee shop near the university was another waste of time. America doesn’t work at any of the ten coffee places I’ve been to so far. Fuck it, I should call it quits on this stupid idea. Go back to the hotel and prepare the contracts for that player, Everett Mann. Talk to a few more brands about sponsoring him.
The more I have lined up to woo him with, the quicker I’ll seal this deal. After last night getting out of here seems like the best course of action.
I figured coming to Cambridge to meet with him would give me a chance to check in on America. As a friend. I could handle that asshole professor for her too. Make things easier.
That’s if she went back to school. EJ hadn’t mentioned it, which means she hasn’t talked to her parents about it. And I didn’t get a chance to ask her last night. But I remember she mentioned she worked at a coffee shop.
After last night, the only way I suspect she’s going to talk to me about school or anything is if I run into her.
When America and Everett walked out of that restaurant, it hit me that I couldn’t leave things so badly. I tried to call her a couple times.
But when those calls weren’t answered, as stupid as it is, all I could think about was how he’d squeezed her ass while he’d made a comment about what she was hiding under that dress.
How those curves she’d covered in gold last night had fit so sweetly in my hands that night in Positano. They’d bounced and swayed as I’d thrust into her. And she’d fit me so well. Tasted so pretty.
So much so the first thing I’d done when I got her alone wasn’t to find out what the divide between us was so we could fix it, but to sink inside her as fast as I could.
By the time I’d hung up my jacket and kicked off my shoes last night, a visual of him and her all over each other was firmly planted in my mind. Fuck, it didn’t sit well. I’d popped a couple Tylenol for the jaw pain and throbbing temples that had accompanied my inability to kick America out of my head.
So I’d texted her, expecting that I wouldn’t get a response—she hasn’t responded to me in months—but incapable of stopping myself. And then I texted her again as I tried to walk off the agitation at the way she took a conversation that was never meant for her ears. And then I’d drunk a couple of fingers of Glenfiddich and sent a couple more texts before going to bed.
Only to toss and turn for hours. Check my phone more times than I did when I was working on securing Bryce Manilow’s representation for the NHL. Imagining her orgasming for him again and again. Punched my damn pillow.
When sleep came it was restless. I woke with my sheets twisted around my legs and the memory of Indy choosing that asshole she married. My chest felt like it was full of glass shards.
I rub my hand over the pain and anger that I have yet to work out how to quit. EJ said it would get easier, but on this he’s wrong. It doesn’t. I hate Indy, and I love her. I want to hurt her, and I want her to be happy. I fucking miss her more than should be possible. Like a phantom limb. But I would take a hacksaw to my own arm to rid myself of her. She left me, and yet, she didn’t. I hate that I can’t shake all these emotions that are tied up in her.
I never want to feel this shit again. Not the helplessness that came with watching her pull away, not the pain, nor this anger that is eating me up. I don’t know how I will ever trust anyone again.
That is why I would never date America. Not because she’s not beautiful and sexy and, well, we have a good time together. But because I don’t think I will ever shake Indy. God help me, I’m trying.
There’s one more coffee shop on this block, and I duck inside as the rain grows heavier. Shaking the drops off my umbrella under the awning, I shut it and deposit it in the tall bucket set out for that purpose.
Inside it’s warm and has that roasted bean aroma. It’s punctuated by fresh pastries, and my stomach grumbles about how it missed out on breakfast as I join the short queue to put in an order.
If I hadn’t ordered decaf all morning I would be in jittery disarray at this point. As it is, I’m tense and uncomfortable and in need of caffeine.
And America.
The headache that was slowly gaining traction with each wrong coffee shop melts away as I watch her serve a customer. She smiles easily at them, her gaze warm. The way she used to look at me when we were friends. The way she’ll look at me again when I fix things.
The way she looked at me last night had me burying myself deep inside her before I could stop to think about the repercussions.
I shove that imagery into my spank bank. America and I aren’t a thing. We will never be a thing. I just want my friend back.
She definitely does not smile at me when I finally make it to the counter. Her eyes widen and then narrow coolly.
Nerves that have nothing to do with caffeine take root. I’m glad I’ve found her though. I was about to go back to the hotel and regroup. Come up with a new way to scour the many coffee shops in the area. “Rica.”
A blue apron covers her black button down and a teensy, tiny skirt. A cup with steam rising into the words Beans-A-Plenty is embroidered on the front. Her pretty mouth forms a pink slash that turns down in the corners. “What do you want, Gray?”
“Can we talk?”
“No.” She shakes her head. Her black braids, which are pulled into a thick ponytail, bounce, the bright beads woven into them clicking against each other with the movement. She stares past me at the next person. “Next please.”
“Hey. Hang on. I want to order,” I say.
Her dark eyes swing back and lock on mine. “Okay. What will you have?”
“Uh…” I glance at the board over her head. To the cappuccinos and lattes and extras you can add to each drink. But none of that is what I want. “I’ll take the biggest cup of I’m so fucking sorry, Rica. Two shots of I regret that I hurt you. And a spoon of can I please explain myself?”
“Name?” she asks in a bored tone.
“Asshole,” I say. “Or Dumbass?”
The woman on the machine has been listening to our conversation and leans toward America to say, “Twatwaffle? Cockwomble? Bell end?”
“You pick,” I tell America as I pull a few pounds out of my wallet and stuff them in the jar next to the register. “I’ll take one of those Danishes too. I’m really hungry because I have been scouring the coffee shops around here for a friend of mine so if you spit in it, I’m still going to eat it.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” America tells me, then glances at the lady behind me. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“She wouldn’t,” I say. “But I would still deserve it.”
“You are…” She rings up the order with a roll of her eyes. “Impossible.”
“Talk to me,” I beg as I use my phone to pay.
“You can take a seat or wait over there.” She points to the area where everyone else is waiting for their caffeine hit.
“I’ll sit,” I say.
I find a table with two seats near the window and settle in. I check my messages and emails. Her boyfriend—she said she wasn’t sure, but he wants to be—hasn’t responded to my email yet. I can’t imagine he will if she filled him in on what happened last night.
That would be bad news for me. I need Mann.
“I’m on break.” America puts my Danish and coffee down on the table and sits. “You have ten minutes.”
I put down my phone and pick up the pastry. If I have a black eye coming, then I have it coming. I study the glossy purple filling. Blueberry. It’s not my favorite. “You spit in it?”
She wrinkles her nose. “No, I did not spit in it.”
“You should have.” I bite off a mouthful and chew. “You could spit in my mouth, and I wouldn’t complain.”
I’d think it’s fucking hot.
“What the hell, Gray?” Her eyes widen and her brows raise.
“That’s not…” Apparently I said that last thought out loud. And I meant it exactly how it must have sounded. Like I’m flirting with her. Like I cannot stop thinking about the way we are together.
I always felt the need to be careful with Indy. Like she was fragile and needed to be protected. Like she was made of glass and I was always afraid that I’d break her. America makes me want to do all the dirty fucking things.
I put the pastry down, dust off my fingers. Reach across the table and touch her cheek. “Rica, it’s pretty obvious that I’m attracted to you. And I care about you. As a friend.”
“But I’m not Indy.” She pulls away from my touch.
“I hurt you. I made being friends with me more uncomfortable for you than it already was. That’s the last thing I wanted. I apologize. It was not my intention.”
“I may have overreacted,” she says. “Hearing you say you could never date me hurt a lot more than I expected it to.”
“It’s not that I couldn’t date you,” I admit. “You’re gorgeous and sexy and fun to be around. You have confidence. I’ve always enjoyed your company. And the last two times we’ve run into each other have been so fucking hot.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because you need to know that the problem is all me. Telling EJ there could never be anything between you and I was me telling him that I can’t exorcise his damn sister from my life no matter the distance I put between us. She festers in here like a wound that refuses to heal.” I grab my chest. “I hate it, but that doesn’t seem to make a lick of difference.”
“That bad?”
“Bad enough that I would rather make it very clear than have you get your hopes up that there could be something here.”
“That makes sense.” She stands and picks up the plate with half a Danish still on it. “But I think you’re worrying too much. Sure, I was offended, but that’s because we were meant to be friends. And friends don’t speak shit about each other behind their backs like that. I’m with Everett anyway.”
“After we…?” Everything I’ve read up on the man says he’s quick to jump into relationships and faster out of them. I’m not good for her, but neither is he. “You’re kidding, right? Does he know?”
“He sprung the girlfriend label on me at dinner. We’re not there yet. We talked about it. In bed. Last night. And decided to keep taking it slow.”
They fucked last night. I gnash my teeth as the reel of images I’d imagined solidifies. “You slept tog—?”
“So no, I didn’t tell him that I fucked you during the main course.” She juts out her chin, turns her back on me, and storms behind the counter before disappearing into the back room.
“You keep screwing up with her,” I mutter to myself as I shove my chair back.
And this last coffee shop near the university was another waste of time. America doesn’t work at any of the ten coffee places I’ve been to so far. Fuck it, I should call it quits on this stupid idea. Go back to the hotel and prepare the contracts for that player, Everett Mann. Talk to a few more brands about sponsoring him.
The more I have lined up to woo him with, the quicker I’ll seal this deal. After last night getting out of here seems like the best course of action.
I figured coming to Cambridge to meet with him would give me a chance to check in on America. As a friend. I could handle that asshole professor for her too. Make things easier.
That’s if she went back to school. EJ hadn’t mentioned it, which means she hasn’t talked to her parents about it. And I didn’t get a chance to ask her last night. But I remember she mentioned she worked at a coffee shop.
After last night, the only way I suspect she’s going to talk to me about school or anything is if I run into her.
When America and Everett walked out of that restaurant, it hit me that I couldn’t leave things so badly. I tried to call her a couple times.
But when those calls weren’t answered, as stupid as it is, all I could think about was how he’d squeezed her ass while he’d made a comment about what she was hiding under that dress.
How those curves she’d covered in gold last night had fit so sweetly in my hands that night in Positano. They’d bounced and swayed as I’d thrust into her. And she’d fit me so well. Tasted so pretty.
So much so the first thing I’d done when I got her alone wasn’t to find out what the divide between us was so we could fix it, but to sink inside her as fast as I could.
By the time I’d hung up my jacket and kicked off my shoes last night, a visual of him and her all over each other was firmly planted in my mind. Fuck, it didn’t sit well. I’d popped a couple Tylenol for the jaw pain and throbbing temples that had accompanied my inability to kick America out of my head.
So I’d texted her, expecting that I wouldn’t get a response—she hasn’t responded to me in months—but incapable of stopping myself. And then I texted her again as I tried to walk off the agitation at the way she took a conversation that was never meant for her ears. And then I’d drunk a couple of fingers of Glenfiddich and sent a couple more texts before going to bed.
Only to toss and turn for hours. Check my phone more times than I did when I was working on securing Bryce Manilow’s representation for the NHL. Imagining her orgasming for him again and again. Punched my damn pillow.
When sleep came it was restless. I woke with my sheets twisted around my legs and the memory of Indy choosing that asshole she married. My chest felt like it was full of glass shards.
I rub my hand over the pain and anger that I have yet to work out how to quit. EJ said it would get easier, but on this he’s wrong. It doesn’t. I hate Indy, and I love her. I want to hurt her, and I want her to be happy. I fucking miss her more than should be possible. Like a phantom limb. But I would take a hacksaw to my own arm to rid myself of her. She left me, and yet, she didn’t. I hate that I can’t shake all these emotions that are tied up in her.
I never want to feel this shit again. Not the helplessness that came with watching her pull away, not the pain, nor this anger that is eating me up. I don’t know how I will ever trust anyone again.
That is why I would never date America. Not because she’s not beautiful and sexy and, well, we have a good time together. But because I don’t think I will ever shake Indy. God help me, I’m trying.
There’s one more coffee shop on this block, and I duck inside as the rain grows heavier. Shaking the drops off my umbrella under the awning, I shut it and deposit it in the tall bucket set out for that purpose.
Inside it’s warm and has that roasted bean aroma. It’s punctuated by fresh pastries, and my stomach grumbles about how it missed out on breakfast as I join the short queue to put in an order.
If I hadn’t ordered decaf all morning I would be in jittery disarray at this point. As it is, I’m tense and uncomfortable and in need of caffeine.
And America.
The headache that was slowly gaining traction with each wrong coffee shop melts away as I watch her serve a customer. She smiles easily at them, her gaze warm. The way she used to look at me when we were friends. The way she’ll look at me again when I fix things.
The way she looked at me last night had me burying myself deep inside her before I could stop to think about the repercussions.
I shove that imagery into my spank bank. America and I aren’t a thing. We will never be a thing. I just want my friend back.
She definitely does not smile at me when I finally make it to the counter. Her eyes widen and then narrow coolly.
Nerves that have nothing to do with caffeine take root. I’m glad I’ve found her though. I was about to go back to the hotel and regroup. Come up with a new way to scour the many coffee shops in the area. “Rica.”
A blue apron covers her black button down and a teensy, tiny skirt. A cup with steam rising into the words Beans-A-Plenty is embroidered on the front. Her pretty mouth forms a pink slash that turns down in the corners. “What do you want, Gray?”
“Can we talk?”
“No.” She shakes her head. Her black braids, which are pulled into a thick ponytail, bounce, the bright beads woven into them clicking against each other with the movement. She stares past me at the next person. “Next please.”
“Hey. Hang on. I want to order,” I say.
Her dark eyes swing back and lock on mine. “Okay. What will you have?”
“Uh…” I glance at the board over her head. To the cappuccinos and lattes and extras you can add to each drink. But none of that is what I want. “I’ll take the biggest cup of I’m so fucking sorry, Rica. Two shots of I regret that I hurt you. And a spoon of can I please explain myself?”
“Name?” she asks in a bored tone.
“Asshole,” I say. “Or Dumbass?”
The woman on the machine has been listening to our conversation and leans toward America to say, “Twatwaffle? Cockwomble? Bell end?”
“You pick,” I tell America as I pull a few pounds out of my wallet and stuff them in the jar next to the register. “I’ll take one of those Danishes too. I’m really hungry because I have been scouring the coffee shops around here for a friend of mine so if you spit in it, I’m still going to eat it.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” America tells me, then glances at the lady behind me. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“She wouldn’t,” I say. “But I would still deserve it.”
“You are…” She rings up the order with a roll of her eyes. “Impossible.”
“Talk to me,” I beg as I use my phone to pay.
“You can take a seat or wait over there.” She points to the area where everyone else is waiting for their caffeine hit.
“I’ll sit,” I say.
I find a table with two seats near the window and settle in. I check my messages and emails. Her boyfriend—she said she wasn’t sure, but he wants to be—hasn’t responded to my email yet. I can’t imagine he will if she filled him in on what happened last night.
That would be bad news for me. I need Mann.
“I’m on break.” America puts my Danish and coffee down on the table and sits. “You have ten minutes.”
I put down my phone and pick up the pastry. If I have a black eye coming, then I have it coming. I study the glossy purple filling. Blueberry. It’s not my favorite. “You spit in it?”
She wrinkles her nose. “No, I did not spit in it.”
“You should have.” I bite off a mouthful and chew. “You could spit in my mouth, and I wouldn’t complain.”
I’d think it’s fucking hot.
“What the hell, Gray?” Her eyes widen and her brows raise.
“That’s not…” Apparently I said that last thought out loud. And I meant it exactly how it must have sounded. Like I’m flirting with her. Like I cannot stop thinking about the way we are together.
I always felt the need to be careful with Indy. Like she was fragile and needed to be protected. Like she was made of glass and I was always afraid that I’d break her. America makes me want to do all the dirty fucking things.
I put the pastry down, dust off my fingers. Reach across the table and touch her cheek. “Rica, it’s pretty obvious that I’m attracted to you. And I care about you. As a friend.”
“But I’m not Indy.” She pulls away from my touch.
“I hurt you. I made being friends with me more uncomfortable for you than it already was. That’s the last thing I wanted. I apologize. It was not my intention.”
“I may have overreacted,” she says. “Hearing you say you could never date me hurt a lot more than I expected it to.”
“It’s not that I couldn’t date you,” I admit. “You’re gorgeous and sexy and fun to be around. You have confidence. I’ve always enjoyed your company. And the last two times we’ve run into each other have been so fucking hot.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because you need to know that the problem is all me. Telling EJ there could never be anything between you and I was me telling him that I can’t exorcise his damn sister from my life no matter the distance I put between us. She festers in here like a wound that refuses to heal.” I grab my chest. “I hate it, but that doesn’t seem to make a lick of difference.”
“That bad?”
“Bad enough that I would rather make it very clear than have you get your hopes up that there could be something here.”
“That makes sense.” She stands and picks up the plate with half a Danish still on it. “But I think you’re worrying too much. Sure, I was offended, but that’s because we were meant to be friends. And friends don’t speak shit about each other behind their backs like that. I’m with Everett anyway.”
“After we…?” Everything I’ve read up on the man says he’s quick to jump into relationships and faster out of them. I’m not good for her, but neither is he. “You’re kidding, right? Does he know?”
“He sprung the girlfriend label on me at dinner. We’re not there yet. We talked about it. In bed. Last night. And decided to keep taking it slow.”
They fucked last night. I gnash my teeth as the reel of images I’d imagined solidifies. “You slept tog—?”
“So no, I didn’t tell him that I fucked you during the main course.” She juts out her chin, turns her back on me, and storms behind the counter before disappearing into the back room.
“You keep screwing up with her,” I mutter to myself as I shove my chair back.