Chapter 6

Six

Ispend the weekend in hangover hell, dressed permanently in my sweatpants that have a huge hole in the crotch which I only noticed after I came home from the grocery store. To make matters worse, I happen to be wearing my big-girl panties, which are often referred to as ‘Menstrual cycle couture’ because I was fresh out of clean, sexy ones and had zip energy to do laundry. They are unflattering, have some weird cat pattern on them, and I could swear the old man in the cereal aisle spotted my Kitty peeking out from the hole.

Cats—it’s an omen.

When you spend most of the weekend making friends with the basin, you vow never to touch an ounce of alcohol again. This is why drinking and being single is a deadly combination. Tequila was to blame. It always is. Nothing ever good comes from doing tequila shots.

Friday night is a huge blur, but I know one thing—I screwed the Jerk in the back of the alley.

Now my life is officially over.

There haven’t been many moments in my life where I prayed a genie would appear and grant me three wishes, but right now, I’m on my knees begging for a magical wish to erase what happened.

The details of our ‘fling’ are a little hazy, and when I say hazy, I mean I don’t remember anything apart from him driving off on his motorcycle without finishing our rendezvous and me vomiting like the exorcist with Vicky trying to salvage my hair.

When I spot the red mark on my neck, a memory of him biting my flesh like a deprived vampire flashes before me, and I shrivel up in embarrassment. I used almost a whole tube of toothpaste to keep the redness down. It takes me back to high school when I looked like a leper dating this jock, Calvin. I was forced to wear scarves during the summer and pulled it off as some new fashion trend. My mother was so gullible.

Vicky apologized a million times for having to visit her parents on Sunday, leaving me to fend for myself and come up with a solution. I figured I’d take the mature approach and ignore him. Then I realized that won’t work, and the only way to face my demons is to confront him head-on. I’ve even gone to lengths preparing a speech. I’ve devised a plan of attack, and after I finish my laundry, the old Presley’s slowly making her way back from her ‘girls gone wild vacation.’

This, in turn, causes me a sleepless night and being exhausted when I wake the next morning. I decide I need to burn the excess energy and pent-up frustration by doing some major cardio at the gym. Trina arrives with Sarah again, and with a quick smile, I pretend to be busy on the treadmill with my headphones, hoping to avoid a conversation. If they catch wind of this, it will make me look just as pathetic as Trina.

With my music on shuffle, I purposely skip past the ballads and settle for some heavy metal as I push myself to ridiculous speeds, almost falling off the machine. Zoning out of my surroundings, the memory of the way he entered me and how my body reacted comes back to me, and a throb between my legs grows. For a split second, I close my eyes, and it’s like a movie replaying in my head.

Bits and pieces.

Piercings.

Wait! Piercings?

“Hey, Presley! You look lost with the fairies. Anything wrong?”

Trina is standing in front of my machine, and it’s a given that I cannot avoid her.

“Just a lot on my mind. You know, work stuff,” I lie.

“I understand. So, listen… about the other day… I’ve decided to speak to Haden one more time, and if that’s it, well… you’re right, I have to let it go.”

His name alone causes my head to contract into a massive migraine.

“Are you sure, Trina? Jerks like him ain’t worth your time. Besides, you know Allan at the front desk? He asked me about you.”

Her eyes light up immediately. “Allan, with the bulging arms?”

I nod. “Seems the shy type. Maybe just ease yourself in with light conversation.”

She pats my shoulder, thanking me, and is already at the front desk by the time I have a chance to take a breath. I hate lying, but she’s so young and needs to stay away from the Jerk. Yeah, where was that rational thinking on Friday night.

I wipe my face and step off the treadmill with unsteady legs, barely able to hold myself up. Leaning on the machine to catch my balance, I glance toward the exit and see the Jerk with Mr. Smokin’ Hot beside him. Oh, hell no, it’s a double whammy. There is only one exit unless, of course, I exit through the fire door which, in turn, would cause alarm and force everyone to look at me. I would make such a shit fugitive. I procrastinate way too much.

Yeah, except for Friday night.

There you go again.

My brain is working a million miles a minute considering every possible way to avoid him. I change my mind. I’m not mature, and seeing his face makes me want to slap it repeatedly then shove it between my legs so I can get my happy ending.

I’m pathetic. There are no other words to describe me right now.

This reminds me of a recurring dream I have about being naked. Usually, I’m on my way to work riding the bus completely naked. No one is directly looking at me, but for some reason, I can’t find any clothes, and nobody will lend me anything. It’s embarrassing and leaves me feeling exposed and ashamed. The similarities to that dream are uncanny. And even though I’m fully dressed, all eyes are on me, judging me on what happened with the Jerk. Or so I think.

Trina is busily flirting with Allan, Sarah is in the Zumba class eyeing the cute gay guy next to her, and so I am officially on my own without any friend to save me. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I send an SOS text to Vicky.

Me:At the gym. The Jerk is here. HELP!!!

I wait impatiently, but she doesn’t respond, and I am running out of time. I need to get to the change rooms which are located next to where Haden is standing. He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I watch him from the corner of my eye.

He is laughing, and it’s only now I notice he isn’t wearing his glasses. He looks completely different, dressed in black shorts with a tight gray tank top that shows off his biceps. Oh, wow.

Okay, pep-talk time. Don’t you dare drool over a jerk who sweet-talked you into the alley and left you high and dry—or more appropriately—low and wet. You didn’t finish college to end up following a guy like a pathetic puppy dog. Yes, he is extremely good-looking. Yes, his hair looks like it belongs in a shampoo commercial, and yes, maybe his body is as irresistible as the new salted caramel sweets they keep showing on television.

I don’t know whether I’m hungry, horny, or need to buy new shampoo. One thing’s for sure, Mr. Smokin’ Hot beside him is walking my way.

“Hey, gorgeous girl from Friday night.”

His smile is endearing, and shyness overcomes me. Perhaps being covered in sweat without any makeup is a surefire way to lower my confidence.

“Hey, gorgeous guy from Friday night,” I repeat back.

“You train here?”

“I wouldn’t call it training. Just trying to let off some steam.”

“How have I not seen you here before?”

I shuffle awkwardly. “Okay, you busted me. Until last week, I was a gym virgin.”

He laughs softly. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

“Presley.” I extend my hand, and he shakes it, lingering while he studies my face. His eyes are light green and brighten when he smiles. His dimples are set deep, and boy, is he cute. His jet-black hair is short, recently grown out from what I assume was a shaved head. He is also wearing a tank, and I have to stop my hands from reaching out to squeeze his arms.

“So, you know Haden from work?”

I nod and see Haden talking to some chick at the front with his eyes directly on me. His stare is penetrating, piercing me like a superhero trying to destroy his enemy. What the hell is his problem? He appears to be agitated; lips pressed flat with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His angered expression leaves me baffled, surely I should be the one angry after what he did.

Suddenly, I’m self-conscious. Then I realize I’m not the moron who left someone to die in a dark alley. Okay, maybe not die, but the Jerk infuriates me with his egotistical I-think-I’m-all-that persona.

Who in their mind leaves a woman mid-orgasm?An asshole, that’s who.

“How do you know him?” I focus back on Marcus.

“He’s my cousin. Our dads are brothers.” His tone softens, then, as if shaken, he smiles again and changes subjects.

Weird, but I don’t want to get into it. Cousins? Why is the universe punishing me. Marcus is so sexy, and he seems interested. What’s the worst that could happen? I tilt my head to the side, smiling at Marcus to show him I’m enjoying his company.

“So, any chance of grabbing a bite to eat sometime?”

My gaze is drawn to his lips, and unable to ignore his dimples which appeared every time he smiled. In some sort of trance, I try to string a sentence together. “I’d like that.”

Marcus passes me his phone, and I store my number. We talk for a few more minutes before he tells me he needs to leave for work. Saying goodbye, I make my way over to the lockers and grab my stuff to head to the change room. Confident that I have avoided Haden this morning, I shower and dress, then leave the gym to head into the office.

It’s Monday, and I drown myself in my work until our editors’ meeting in an hour. I don’t have anything to present today and am happy to listen to what other manuscripts will be put on the table, anything to take my mind off the weekend. Dee is standing up front, and as everyone enters the room, I take a seat at the furthest spot from Haden.

From across the room, he is staring at me again, making me feel even more self-conscious. Normally, one would think I had spinach in my teeth or a milk mustache with this much attention. What I wouldgive to have a milk mustache right now. He’s probably thinking about how I got down on my knees and sucked him off.

Oh, dear God, another new memory.

My cheeks flush instantly, so I bow my head to avoid anyone noticing, my shoulders curling over my chest. I can blame many things for contributing to the night, but nothing will change the fact that I didn’t stop him.

Dee commences her presentation, introducing a new erotic male-on-male romance. The heterosexual men in the room cringe. Clive, our resident fairy, is all over it.

“Totally love it, Dee. There’s a demand for gay romance. Women love it.” Clive claps his hands in utter delight.

“C’mon, Clive. How could women love it?” Haden questions, rudely. “I won’t argue about demand. Figures show there need to be more books in this genre, but I don’t get why women want to read about two guys’ dicks slapping each other.”

There are a few snickers, again from the men, but of course, the Jerk starts a heated debate. One that could have been easily avoided if he kept that mouth of his shut.

“Haden, get your pretty little head out of the lady garden. Women want to see lust and desire. They want to see acts that are unattainable.”

Clive has a good point, but I don’t want to admit it out loud. Vicky once showed me some random clip of two guys, and it was steamy, hot, and very taboo. There was something about it that intrigued me, not that I wanted to tell this to Jason at the time.

“Let the women in the room speak up, Clive,” Haden urges him.

There is silence until my name is called. All eyes are on me and the Jerk—who once again has put me on the spot.

If he wants to play dirty, he is messing with the wrong woman. I need to show him that the other night meant absolutely nothing. It did not affect me whatsoever to the point that I have moved on. I’m not Trina, nor Dee, chasing and begging for him to pay attention.

“Clive has a point. There’s something arousing about the image of two men. The sexual desire is, um… let’s say, raw and uninhibited. And many homosexual men have very appealing bodies.”

He looks amused, leaning back into his chair like an arrogant prick. He is no longer wearing his gym outfit, and I try not to stare at how sexy he looks in his crisp white shirt rolled up at the sleeves. All of this is a decoy which I need to ignore if I know what’s good for me.

“Can’t a man and woman have the same sexual desires toward each other?” he asks, mocking my point with a slight sneer.

“Probably. Depends on whether the guy’s a jerk or not,” I shoot back. “It all boils down to the build-up. From what Dee has summarized, the two men are sexually charged after years of denying their sexuality. Women love a good lead-up. It makes for a heated explosion. Excuse the pun.”

Everyone laughs, and I find my confidence in the ultimate stare-off, not backing down. He doesn’t back off either until Dee moves on, and the subject changes.

Focusing on a presentation proves difficult when you know someone is staring at you. Occasionally, I turn to look at Clive sitting next to Haden, and my heart skips a beat when the Jerk’s eyes lock onto mine. Pressing my lips together, I cross my legs and tighten my thighs to ignore the forbidden throb between my legs. My body is betraying me, something it hasn’t done in a long while.

After another hour spent talking about other projects, we filter out of the room. Clive has not stopped talking, having only just returned from a European vacation.

“We haven’t done lunch in ages. You free today, Pres?”

“Sure, Clive. Plus, we need to catch up on your vacay.”

He flashes me a wink and starts to ramble on about some Contiki tour until Haden interrupts us.

“Can I please speak to you?” His tone is demanding enough that even Clive raises his eyebrows.

Great, just fucking great. I knew there was no way to avoid it. I tell Clive I’ll catch up with him at lunch and wait until everyone leaves the room.

“What?” I finally say.

“What? Is this the game we’re playing?” he asks, extremely frustrated, running his hand through his hair again.

Don’t look at his hair. Repeat. Do not look at his hair.

“Ignorance is bliss. What else do you want me to say?”

“You don’t want to do the woman thing, drag what happened out, and talk about emotions and bullshit?”

“Nope. I’d rather not.”

My choice to remain tight-lipped is increasing his anger, and I’m getting off on it. With a burst of confidence, my steady gait appears to annoy him further.

“I don’t get you. You had no problem talking about your ex.” The way he says the word ‘ex’ sounds like he’s swallowing poison.

“Well, I’m done talking.”

His eyes focus on my lips. I sense he is biting his tongue, and in a matter of seconds, he will explode.

“Why were you talking to Marcus?”

“Your cousin? Because it’s polite when someone introduces himself.” I almost laugh at the question.

“Is something going on between you two?”

“It’s none of your business, Jerk. You keep reminding me I have an ex, which makes me single, right? So the last time I checked, I’m not bound to anyone.”

“So that’s it? You don’t want anything more to do with me?”

“That’s it,” I repeat, staring him directly in the eyes.

“You’re fine to sweep this under the rug and forget that it ever happened?”

“Consider it swept, vacuumed, and in the trash taken away. Are we done now?”

“Apparently so.”

* * *

Lunch with Clive couldn’t have rolled around fast enough. Haden had gone back to his desk, and I was happy to put my head down and forget about our argument. Except, I couldn’t. Why was he so interested in my conversation with Marcus? He acted almost—don’t say it, Presley—jealous.

Okay, rewind. Haden has never shown interest in me before Friday night. He has been working at the company for close to twelve months now, and apart from the annoying pranks, not once has he shown any interest in my personal life, including my dating status.

The same goes for me. All I know is he is a manwhore who somehow attracts women into his manwhore lair where he screws them without a name to the face. I never really took the time to notice him, being so caught up in my work and relationship with Jason.

I’m fairly certain I’m overthinking things. He made it clear we were to forget Friday night happened. Surely, he is happy-dancing deep down inside that I am not calling and telling him that I love him.

And with all that said and done, it’s evident we both made a huge error in judgment. A mistake never to be repeated, and therefore, we move on because it’s all in the past.

Clive takes my mind off things at lunch, re-enacting every scenario from his almost National Lampoon’s European Vacation. All he is missing is Clark Griswold and a redhead named Rusty. We are sitting in a nearby café, having just ordered, when Dee walks in. She spots us immediately, and without using her manners and asking politely, takes a seat in the empty chair at our table.

Dee is the kind of woman who keeps the cosmetic industry booming. Her bleached blonde hair against her fake spray-on tan does nothing for her. She reminds me a lot of a Playboy bunny, an extremely flat-chested one. Beneath the layers of makeup she wears is no doubt a pretty woman. If only she didn’t make herself look like a Barbie doll.

“Your pitch was a winner. You’ve got that one in the bag,” Clive tells her with a mouthful of salad.

“Haden raised some good points, though,” she mumbles, a little disheartened.

“He has no clue, Dee,” I remind her.

“He does. No offense, Clive, but women don’t want to read about men getting hot and heavy. They want alpha billionaires breaking their virginity.”

“Why are you letting him sway you? Yeah, I get that you’re sleeping with him, but honestly, Dee, stand up to him.”

Shit, did I say that out loud?

“What? First of all, Presley, I haven’t slept with him. Fooled around, yes,” she snarls.

“Ooh, catty.” Clive raises his hand and makes a claw.

“I’m sorry, Dee. I shouldn’t have assumed that because I see you both tongue-wrestling at every opportunity, you have actually slept together.”

My tone is off. Snarky. Catty, as Clive just put it. Gee, someone would think I was jealous. Again, with that word.

“Everything but.” She winks this time.

“Ooh, a wink? Do tell!” Clive’s enthusiasm prompts Dee to fess up.

“He’s pierced.”

I choke on the cherry tomato that I’m swallowing that instant. Clive is patting me on the back repeatedly as I try to calm myself, gulping a whole heap of water.

“You all right there, cowgirl?” Clive asks.

I nod, bright red with embarrassment.

“I know, it’s taboo, right? I mean it is pierced right on the tip. I can’t wait to see what it feels like inside.”

Clive laughs. “Why don’t you just tell him you want to do the horizontal tango?”

“Because, Clive, I have, and he says soon. Lord knows what he’s waiting for. We’ve kinda been fooling around for weeks but he always appears distracted.

I’m not a gossiper, but I am desperate to get answers, so I bring it up. “What about Trina?”

“The chick who cried after they had sex. Apparently, he was off his face that night. They were flirting for weeks.”

What the hell does this all mean? He flirts with Trina, then fucks her when drunk or drugged. He hasn’t sealed the deal with Dee, but he screws me in the alleyway without any thought.

Do not read any more into this. It means nothing, and even if it were something, I don’t think of him that way. It was just a mistake. A big, fat huge mistake that should be listed in the Guinness Book of Records as the worst mistake ever. Haden’s reputation with women is enough for me to forget all about him. I wanted a rebound, and that’s what I got.

My thoughts are like poison, slowly seeping through my veins until I am consumed wholly by thoughts of the evil one. I need to stop this madness now. With Clive and Dee busy discussing genital piercings, I take out my phone and find Marcus’ number. I am straight to the point, asking him to meet up for lunch tomorrow. He responds immediately, naming a place and time.

Whatever Haden’s problem is with Marcus and me being friends, he will have to overcome it. A week into being single, and already there is drama. This is not what I had in mind when I broke up with Jason.

Marcus is sweet, friendly, and hopefully, drama-free. And to top it off, it feels good to sweep Friday night’s regrets under the rug.

Just like I had said—swept, vacuumed, and in the trash the Jerk goes.