Fabulous Filthy Friend, page 15
I am crazy.
But it would be rude to turn back now and stand him up. And like I’ve told myself a thousand times since our “chat” last night, this is just a drink. Either of us can walk away with no hard feelings. Yet no matter how many times I remind myself of that, my heart won’t stop racing, and the shaky breath I take doesn’t do anything to calm my nerves.
How do people do this?
Meet up for drinks or more with perfect strangers?
I shove through the door into The Shed with that question still lingering. A cacophony surrounds me—the clang of silverware, the barrage of voices—people laughing, joking, having a good time.
My stomach churns.
Ugh. I might throw up.
I thought I had mentally prepared myself for this, but it’s completely new territory. With another deep breath, I scan the small group of people waiting for a table but don’t see anyone in a blue button-down.
Maybe he’s running late.
My watch reads 5:55, so maybe I’m early. Or, he might have arrived even earlier and already gotten us a table. I guess we never talked about that.
This was a little ill-planned. A rushed idea neither of us really thought through. Spur of the moment. But if I had actually had time to sit and consider it, I may not have even agreed.
I might still be sitting at home on a Saturday night feeling sorry for myself instead of being here.
Should I walk through and see if he’s here?
Typically, if I arrive somewhere early, I’ll grab a drink at the bar, so that’s the most logical place to start. I make my way toward the long, dark wooden bar, brushing past groups of people standing around with drinks and chatting, and freeze.
Someone with a very familiar profile sits on a stool at the end of the bar.
Holy shit.
What the hell is Flynn doing here?
He said he was busy tonight, but I didn’t pry. Not after Monday and being unnecessarily mom-like by worrying about what he was doing. Not after the fight before that. I don’t want to pry anymore.
But now he’s here, and I can’t let him see me with this guy. He’ll want to know how we met, how we know each other…and we don’t have a story for that. Plus, I’m supposed to be going on a date with Dan next week when he gets back into town. Meeting up with someone else now seems…odd…and Flynn might feel obligated to tell Dan about it. I don’t want to hurt Dan by making it look like I immediately scheduled another date when I knew he wouldn’t be around.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
ABORT MISSION.
I better get out of here before he sees me. If I duck around the backside of the bar and out through the patio, I have a better chance. I turn away and take two steps before his familiar voice stops me.
“Rachel?”
Dammit.
I twist back to Flynn and plaster a smile on my face. “What are you doing here?”
He rises to his feet and walks over to me, glancing around like he’s looking for someone. His lips quirk into a half-smile, and he motions back toward the bar where a half-drunk pint of beer sits. “I am having a drink.”
“By yourself?”
He grimaces a little. “Well, I’m supposed to be meeting someone, but I don’t see her yet.”
Her? So, he does have a date.
That he didn’t tell me about.
That little twinge of what I refuse to admit is jealousy hits my chest. Plus, he didn’t tell me his plans tonight were a date.
Because he didn’t want me to know or because he was waiting to see if it went anywhere before he told me?
I force another smile. “Oh, I’m meeting someone, too.”
While not exactly happy about him being here on a date and not telling me, at least that relieves a little of the pressure. Maybe his date will arrive first, and by the time HRD4U gets here, he’ll already be engrossed in her and won’t be able to give me the third degree.
One of his hands moves through his hair, and then he motions back toward the empty stool he just vacated. “Why don’t you join me then. Until he gets here.”
“Uh, okay.”
It’s so weird for Flynn to have a date and not tell me. Especially after we hung out all last night and had margaritas. He’s typically pretty loose-lipped when the tequila hits. Then again, I guess I kind of have one and didn’t tell him, either. So, I can’t really be annoyed or say anything about it.
Or at least, I shouldn’t be annoyed.
I think Alicia is starting to get into my head too much about my feelings for Flynn. That isn’t why I’m troubled by it. It’s because my best friend isn’t telling me important things about his life.
Though, we’ve obviously both been keeping things to ourselves lately. That bothers me more than it should. Friends can have personal lives they don’t share. That’s normal. It’s how normal friendships are. But it feels weird for Flynn and me.
I glance over at him. The dark splotches under his eyes tell me he didn’t get much sleep. “You still recovering from last night?”
We did drink a lot of margaritas.
He chuckles and points to his beer. “Yes. I’m sticking with beer tonight. I’m never going to let you convince me to drink that much tequila again.”
I slide onto the stool next to him and knock my shoulder against his. “You say that every time.”
A smirk plays at his lips. “I know, but I mean it this time.”
Lies.
Speaking of which…it seems like a good time to just come out and ask what I’ve been wondering. “So, who are you meeting?”
Maybe I shouldn’t ask because questioning him is only going to open me up to the same line of inquiry, but Flynn almost never dates, and his behavior over the last couple of weeks is still so fresh in my mind.
He shrugs and takes a drink of his beer. “It’s kind of a blind date.”
I bark out a laugh. “You? A blind date?”
He nods and offers me a tiny grin. “You know it’s probably my only chance right now.”
I laugh and wave over the bartender to get a drink. I’m going to need alcohol because when my date arrives, we’re going to have a whole lot of explaining to do to Flynn.
FLYNN
Of all the damn bars in the city, Rachel has to be at this one tonight…
Just my fucking luck.
The girl I love is going to see me with the girl I met online, jerking off.
Sheesh.
God is punishing me.
Father Lafayette would probably be pleased I’m now facing the repercussions of my actions. First, some crazed fan stalks me at work and destroys my car…twice…and now I have to meet up with INEEDSOMED with Rachel standing right here.
But there could be some way to salvage this, or at least make it look not quite so bad. My lie about the blind date seemed to work, and she’s here on a date, too. If I turn the focus on her and away from me, I won’t have to keep lying to the woman who holds my heart about the woman who watches me hold my dick.
I take another sip of my beer. “What about you? Who are you meeting?”
She pulls her lip between her teeth, and her eyes dart back toward the front door. “Just a friend.”
I raise an eyebrow. “A friend? Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
No way.
She’s lying to me, too. I know all of Rachel’s friends, so she would tell me who it was if that’s really who she’s waiting for. It’s a lot more than just a friend. Maybe someone else she’s dating besides Dan.
Why hide him from me?
I’ve met every other guy she’s ever dated pretty much right away, because we’ve always been so concerned that if they find out about our friendship later on, there would be all sorts of jealousy. It’s better to get it out in the open right away. But maybe this is about Dan. A feeling of guilt about seeing someone else when they have a second date planned in only a week.
“Do I get to meet this mystery guy?”
She shrugs. “I guess, if he ever gets here.”
“Think he’s ditching you?”
Her eyes drift over the restaurant again. “Maybe. He’s not here yet.”
I nod and look down at my watch. “Actually, I may be getting stood up, too.” I chuckle and raise my glass to her. “At least we’re in good company.”
She clinks her glass against mine and takes a sip of her martini. “We really are two giant losers when it comes to dating, huh?”
I laugh as I examine her—absolutely stunning tonight in a low-cut maroon top and skintight black leather pants.
The woman is a fucking bombshell. There’s no way she should still be single. A fast I am reminded of every single time I look at her.
“Well, if your date never shows, you always have your second date with Dan lined up.” The words sting a little bit coming out. “So…”
She nods and sucks down some of her drink. “Dan’s really nice, but—”
There is a but.
I thought there was one coming the other night, yet she agreed to the second date. Her but makes me pause with my glass halfway to my mouth. “But what? You don’t want to go out with him again?”
She offers a non-committal shrug.
I turn on my stool to face her. “Uh, oh. I know that look.” And frankly, now that I see it written all over her, I’m surprised she didn’t say anything after their first date when I asked her about it. “No chemistry there?”
Her eyes flick up to meet mine. “I’m sorry. I know he’s your friend, and I really did have a good time when we went out. But there just wasn’t enough there for me to really feel a driving need to see him again.”
“Then why did you say yes when he asked for a second date?”
She considers my question for a minute and twirls her martini glass on the bar top. “I was trying to give it another chance. You were so sure we would hit it off, and you were right. We did. But there’s a huge difference between having things in common and getting along well, and being with someone romantically.”
Ouch.
This woman couldn’t have hurt me more if she had actually driven a stake through my heart. I know she’s talking about Dan, but that felt pointed and directed straight at me.
We need to stop talking about this before I completely lose my shit in front of her. I down another gulp of my beer and swallow thickly to remove the lump her words formed in my throat. “Do you have any big plans tomorrow?”
She shakes her head and turns back to look at the door again. “Not really, you?”
I nod. “Church with Mom. Coffee after again.”
A laugh bubbles from her lips, and the sound goes straight to my dick despite the fact I’m here to meet another woman. “You’re such a mama’s boy.”
I laugh and nod because she’s right; I totally am. I’d do anything for that woman. I do do everything for her, and I will continue to until the day I die. It’s the least I can do for the woman who raised me. “I guess I am.”
She twists the glass in her hand, her brow furrowing as if she’s deep in contemplation over something. “You ever think about what it would be like just to say fuck it and stop being a good guy. Stop worrying about what your mom would think. Stop worrying about what’s right and what’s wrong and just start doing what feels good.”
I practically choke on my beer.
Where the hell did this come from?
It’s about as far from how Rachel thinks as possible.
I take another sip of beer and wipe the condensation off the side of the glass with my thumb. “Sure, doesn’t everyone think about that at some point in time? Just letting go of everything, of society’s strict standards and requirements of what’s expected of us. But wanting to do it and doing it are two different things.”
Of course, I’d love not to have to hide HRD4U or what I want. It would be so much easier to tell Rach and the rest of the world the truth if I didn’t care what anyone thought about me. But how I view the world and the people in it has been shaped so much by my conservative upbringing that I’m not sure I can ever come out and say what’s really going on in my life—with HRD4U or my feelings for Rachel—without feeling like I’m standing naked in front of my middle school class being laughed at and ridiculed…and judged.
She nods, the disappointment clear in her soft green eyes. “That’s very true. Sad, though, isn’t it?”
I nod because I couldn’t agree more. If it were really possible to let go completely, I wouldn’t have to hide HRD4U from anyone, especially her. “Definitely.” I check my watch again. Almost 6:30. “I think we’ve been stood up.”
She holds her drink up to me. “To being stood up in good company.”
“To being stood up in the best company.” I clink my glass against hers and down the rest of my beer. “Bartender, keep them coming. We’re going to need them tonight.”
17
FLYNN
Another Saturday night coming home drunk and alone. I should be used to it by now. It should be routine. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I never thought INEEDSOMED would stand me up.
Yeah, it’s kind of an awkward situation for everyone—to meet up with someone you masturbated with online—but she seemed so cool, so laidback. So interested. I don’t know why she wouldn’t at least tell me she wasn’t coming. Then I wouldn’t have sat there like an idiot. And I wouldn’t have ended up spending the whole night with Rachel.
Karma must really want to fuck me. I finally try to move on in some way from this woman by meeting up for a drink with another, and Rachel walks in and sits down right next to me.
Who would’ve thought that meeting a girl you jerked off with online would go south?
I release a laugh at the absurdity of the situation and question, and it echoes into the empty house. It feels like so much bad is happening right now is a sign. A statement from up above that something in my life needs to be fixed.
Maybe I need to go back to Father LaFayette for some advice and penance.
I wander back to the bedroom and drop down onto the bed. My body sinks into the mattress, and I grab the pillow and pull it down over my face to release a scream without alerting Rachel and the other neighbors to my frustration.
But I guess I get it. Chatting with someone online or even jerking off with them is a lot different than meeting them in person. She was bound to be uneasy about it. Even though there was never any pressure or any statements made that it would be more than a drink.
Or…maybe she was there, saw me, and decided I wasn’t what she was expecting in the first place. That’s certainly possible…and a massive blow to my ego I hadn’t considered before.
Having Rachel show up was a mixed blessing, I guess. At least it saved me from sitting there by myself, looking like a loser who got stood up, but it also just reminded me how she’s the one I really want to be with. About how every single minute we spend together is so…right. Even sitting there, waiting for another woman, all I could think about was Rach and how beautiful she looked tonight. Much more risqué than she usually dresses. Sexy. Wild.
And how damn simple it is to fall into our regular routine and dynamic.
No one else will ever be like that. It can’t be that easy with anyone else.
So, where does that leave me?
Home alone on a Saturday night again, screaming into a damn pillow while my life spins out of control around me.
I throw the pillow to the side and grab my laptop so I can log into the site to see what’s going on. It’s no surprise that hundreds of messages asking when I’m going to go live again flood my inbox, along with dozens of propositions and inappropriate photos.
But one message draws my attention.
She has some balls, messaging me after she stood me up.
Don’t look at it, Flynn. Just let it go. Ignore her.
Any other night, I might have. I would have deleted it and moved on. But something forces me to click on the message from INEEDSOMED.
INEEDSOMED
Where were you tonight? I can’t believe I got stood up by a guy who jerks off online. I don’t know why I thought you were a nice guy. I’m obviously a pretty shitty judge of character. I wish you all the success in the future with your website.
Stood her up?
HRD4U
What are you talking about? I was there. You stood me up. I spent the whole night at the bar talking with my best friend, who happened to show up too and stayed after her date was a no-show.
I hit enter and stare at my message for a few seconds.
It’s nothing but a jumble of letters at first. Then they slowly form into the words I typed. Then the sentences.
Holy shit.
The realization comes so fast, it’s like a blinding-white light on the front of the train before it slams into you. My breath whooshes from my lungs. My heart slams against my ribs so hard, it actually hurts.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
It was Rachel. It’s always been Rachel.
And if I just figured it out, so did she.
How could I have been so fucking stupid?
I close my computer and scramble off the bed. Fast, heavy, determined steps rocket me down the hallway to the front door, but I can’t get there fast enough. Not after how long I’ve waited for this. I turn the lock, yank open the door, and run out onto the front lawn.
The late-night silence of the neighborhood is only broken by a distant dog bark. It’s almost like time stands still with me while I wait for some sort of reaction from her.
Her front door opens slowly, almost cautiously, and she walks out with her arms wrapped around her chest. The darkness of the night can’t hide the worry and confusion on her beautiful face.
Or the shock.
I know how she feels.
It’s like the rug was just pulled out from under both of us, and now, we’re left lying prone and exposed, staring up at the sky over us like we’ve never seen it before.
Our slow steps bring her and me to opposite sides of the low hedge that runs between our yards, the same hedge we’ve been stepping over for five years to get to each other’s houses rather than walk the extra couple of feet around it.
