“This is not what it looks like!” Chris replies, his voice filled with panic.
“Oh, it’s not?” I respond, scrolling up to reveal the rest of their conversation, which goes backs weeks, if not months. “Because it looks like you two have been texting for as long as you and I have been dating.”
Chris rushes in and snatches the phone from my hand. I’ve never seen him stumbling over himself in such a way as he scrolls the screen like he doesn’t know what he’s looking at.
It’s a performance he’s putting on, and I have to admit, it’s almost convincing. But I’m already standing up and going to the door for my things.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I quickly check it.
Sarah: I’ll be there in five.
“I’m sorry, Erika!” Chris protests, coming after me as I grab my purse and my coat. “I just didn’t want to upset her–”
“Riiight.” I nod as I reach for the door. “That’s why you haven’t blocked her and why she’s in your phone under a fake name? Biggies? Quite apt, if I do say so.”
Chris opens his mouth to continue the argument but closes it again when he realizes he’s got nothing left to say. Thank God I was smart enough not to put out for this idiot.
“We’re done, Chris. I’m leaving now,” I reply as I open the door. I take a few steps outside into the cool night air, then stop and turn and glance back at him. “You know I hate strawberries. I don’t know how many fucking times I told you.”
I leave Chris behind, go down his steps, and walk toward the sidewalk, moving as quickly as I can while still trying to look like I’m a total girl boss who’s in control of her emotions and couldn’t be more happy than to have just dumped her lying, cheating boyfriend.
And in a way, part of that’s true. I was kind of looking for an excuse to get rid of Chris, but at the same time, nobody likes being cheated on, especially with a girl like Jaime, the girl with the best rack in a 50-mile radius. Now I just feel like an overcooked Wendy’s hamburger while Chris was off indulging himself with three-star Gordon Ramsay cooking.
I’m two seconds away from throwing my phone into the bushes when Sarah pulls up beside me, rolls down her window, and shouts, “Hey, bitch!” She’s smiling at me, doing her best to lighten the mood as she leans over and shoves open the passenger side door.
“Get in!”
Thank God, I think as I suck a deep breath and practically hurl myself into the seat and slam the door behind me.
“Drive,” I tell her.
“Where to?”
“Anywhere but fucking here.”
Sarah nods and slams her foot on the gas. The car jerks forward, the tires screeching in the quiet suburban neighborhood. I glance over at her in shock, but she just smiles back at me, her palm out to already subdue anything I might have to say.
“Relax, bitch. I’ve got a perfect place to go, okay?”
I just smile, lean my head back on the seat, and put my life in Sarah’s hands—at least for the rest of the evening. She’s been my bestie throughout all of high school, so if she says she’s got the perfect place, then she’s got the perfect place.
“So are you gonna tell me what happened?” she asks.
“Well, he was trying to get me to give it up tonight,” I say with a sigh.
“As we suspected.” She nods.
“But as it turned out…he was cheating.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Sarah groans. “That piece of shit! With who?”
“Jamie Peters.”
“Jamie big-tits?” Sarah replies. “I thought they broke up.”
“I thought so too,” I say with a sigh as my phone vibrates with several texts from Chris.
“Is that him?” Sarah asks. I nod, thumbing through them. “What’s he saying?”
“I’m sorry…I made a mistake…I love you…typical bullshit. I’m gonna block him now.”
I do, without hesitation.
“I’m sorry, girl.”
“Eh.” I shrug. “It’s not like he broke my heart emotionally or something. We weren’t like in love, you know? I just feel…”
“Like a guy still cheated on you?” Sarah suggests.
“Exactly.”
Sarah nods and pulls into a parking lot, and I realize that in the amount of time we’ve been talking, she’s been driving pretty fast and we’ve arrived at The Sundown Beach, one of the local bars in town. I glance over at her as she takes out her keys and grabs her purse.
“What are we doing here?” I ask. “Neither of us have fakes.”
“No need.” She smiles. “My brother’s friend started tending bar here last week. He’ll totally let us in.”
Before I can say anything, she hops out of the car and heads for the door—a door with an enormous bouncer with arms the size of my waist standing by it.
“Sarah, wait!” I hiss as I hop out and chase after her. But by the time I reach her, she’s already standing right in front of him.
“IDs?” the man asks, looking suspiciously at us.
“Yeah, can you tell Jared that Sarah and Erika are here to see him?” she says with the confidence of Hillary Clinton oozing from her pores. The bouncer looks at her for a second, chewing his gum, and for a second, I’m sure he’s just going to tell us to get lost. But to my surprise, he raises his chin and licks his teeth in reply.
“Wait here.”
With that, he vanishes inside. Sarah turns to me and flashes me the proudest smile full of teeth. “See? I told you it’ll work!”
“Yeah, well, we have yet to see–”
Before I can finish, the door to the bar opens, and the bouncer appears again. He steps aside and motions to both of us.
“Come inside.”
Neither of us say anything but just follow his gesture and step into the bar. It’s pretty full with a crowd of people quite obviously much older than us tonight. Sarah instantly spots Jared, grabs me by the hand, and tugs me through the horde of people over to him and slams her palm down on the bar top to get his attention.
“Two shots! Whatever you want, just make ‘em strong,” she says. “This bitch just got cheated on by her dick of a boyfriend.”
Several commiserating sounds come up from the crowd around us, and Jared immediately makes a face—the face similar to the ones he’s made that have always made me wish I had a brother like him.
“Damn, Erika, I’m sorry,” he says as he grabs two shot glasses and fills them with something dark. “You want me to kill him? I could kill him.”
“Yes!” Sarah replies.
“No.” I shake my head. “He’s not worth it.”
“That’s true,” Sarah agrees. “Bottoms up!”
We take our shots, and I try to pretend my first reflex isn’t to cough and hack my throat out. The truth is, I was never a partier in high school, and I’ve never gotten used to the taste or feel of alcohol.
“Still, we can’t have more men walking the earth who are just going to cheat on more girls and break their hearts, can we?” An unknown, male voice from behind me causes me to turn, and I find myself staring down a stunningly gorgeous man dressed business casual, no tie, shirt collar open, one hand just sort shaking the glass with what’s left of a cocktail.
“Holy shit, Erika,” Sarah whispers in my ear, just loud enough for me to hear.
He looks like he could have just stepped out of the pages of a men’s magazine or maybe owns a men’s magazine that he can’t be bothered to model for because he’s already too wealthy. He’s definitely older than I am and has a manly look but also has a youthful charm to him at the same time. It’s an incredible combination, like a salted caramel dessert that doesn’t sound like it would work on paper but tastes absolutely delicious once you dig in.
“No, I guess we can’t,” I reply after Sarah pokes me in the kidney, making me realize I haven’t responded to him and have just been gawking at his good looks like a pre-teen at a Harry Styles concert. “But what does that say about you, Mr. Random Gentleman? That you’re okay going around murdering guys who act like assholes?”
“Protecting women, we could call it,” he replies, nearly leveling me with the charm that exudes from him as he grins. “Or does that make me sound too much like a white knight?”
“Lil bit.” I smirk back, holding up my thumb and forefinger with nothing but a gap between them.
He smiles and stands, and I nearly gasp as I realize just how tall he is. It wasn’t obvious before as he was seated on a barstool, but now he’s towering over both Sarah and me. He must be at least six-four and in incredible shape, like a man who spends every day at the gym or was born with the world’s greatest genetics—or both.
He also smells quite nice, and not in the men’s-designer-cologne kind of way either. It’s just him. His scent is invading my nostrils and causing my pheromones (is that the right word?) to come alight, along with my hormones. With every sniff I take, my nose starts to tell me to prepare myself for a whiff of something I don’t want to smell—body odor of an unfamiliar person—but it never gets to that point. I relish what I’m inhaling the entire time.
What is this? What is happening right now? Seriously.
“Okay, I’ll dial it back a little,” the man says. Still smiling, he extends his hand to me. “Malcom. But people close to me call me Mal.”
“Erika,” I reply, taking his hand. “People call me Erika.”
His eyes lock on to mine as we shake, and I feel for the first time in months like this man actually cares about the words coming out of my mouth. No, I know he does.
“Well, Erika,” Mal says, still holding on to my hand, “mind if I get you your next drink?”
