Now it was Reid who looked like he needed to punch something. He stormed into our apartment, a mask of fury on his face, and slammed the front door hard enough to shake the walls. I had no idea what his problem was, and I wasn’t about to ask. He’d been testy ever since he’d come back from his trip with Jade. But then again, so had I.
I sipped my beer, and watched him walk around like a caged tiger. I would have told him to chill the fuck out and have a beer if I wasn’t worried he’d have my balls, for opening my mouth.
My phone rang, and when I saw my mother’s name flashing on the screen I decided not to answer it. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation. My phone stopped ringing, and when it started up again less than a second later, I frowned. My mother never called incessantly unless there was a problem.
I slid my finger across the screen, and held my phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hi, sweetheart. Is this a bad time?” My mother sounded nervous, and I detected an undertone of anxiety in her voice. That was never good.
“No mom, it’s fine. Is everything okay?”
Reid grabbed a beer from the fridge, and joined me on the sofa, staring daggers at the wall. What was his deal?
“Everything’s fine,” my mother replied. “I just…there’s just something…” she stuttered. My mother never stuttered. I sat forward, and my mind started racing with everything that could be wrong.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
I heard her exhale on the other end of the line, and waited for her to speak.
“I needed to warn you,” she started. “Your father’s court case with Anthony Monroe regarding the land dispute and oil drilling has turned quite nasty. Your father is making it personal, and the media are out for blood. I wanted you to know in case they decide to start bothering you for information.”
I screwed my eyes shut, and groaned. “You’re not serious, mom? Has dad lost his fucking mind?”
“Language,” my mother berated. “And I don’t know what your father is thinking. It can go either way, like most things like this tend to do when the media get involved. I wanted you to be aware of what was going on, before you saw it splashed on the news.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised at this turn of events. Not really. My father had a habit of twisting things to his advantage, and he relished any opportunity to drag Anthony Monroe’s name through the mud.
I wondered if Kennedy knew anything about it, but then realized I’d decided not to care about her anymore. I was still harboring some anger after I’d spotted her in the parking lot sitting on the tailgate of some guys’ truck. They looked friendly, and the way he’d had his arm around her suggested that they were more than friends.
I guess I’d never meant that much to her after all, if it only took her a fucking week to move on. It hurt like hell to see her with someone else, especially after the way I’d been feeling sorry for myself this week. But that was over now.
“Dane?” My mother’s voice interrupted my thoughts, and I shook my head.
“Sorry mom, I’m here.”
“You’ll let me know if anything happens, won’t you?”
I placed my empty beer bottle on our coffee table, and sat back. “Yeah, mom, I will. Don’t worry.”
“Okay, sweetheart. I have to go now, but call me if you need anything.”
“I will,” I promised. “Talk to you soon.”
I threw my phone back on the table and held my head in my hands. I was exhausted. I’d been doing everything I possibly could this week to keep from going back to Kennedy, and I’d been holding on to the tiniest sliver of hope that she was struggling like I was.
Guess not.
“What has daddy dearest done this time?” Asked Reid.
“I don’t really know, but it has something to do with Anthony Monroe. My mom wanted to give me a heads up in case we saw it on the news.”
“I wish your dad would give that shit a rest man. Do you think Kennedy knows?”
I stiffened. I didn’t want to care whether or not she knew, but I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if something happened to her as a result of the feud between our fathers. She was as much an innocent in all of it as I was.
“I’m not sure, but I should probably go talk to her.” I stood up from the sofa without giving myself a chance to back out, and promptly ignored the puzzled look on Reid’s face. I was angry, frustrated, and tired, and yet I was still looking for an excuse to see the girl who kept me up at night, and messed with my head the way no one else had.
I opened the door just as Kennedy’s friend Ashley walked past, and was hit with an idea. I was about to immortalize my name in the Douchebag Hall of Fame.
“Hey,” I said.
Ashley startled, and then smiled at me. She was a stunner, with her long legs, olive colored skin, and long brown hair. Being a model ensured she wasn’t hard up for male attention, and her intelligence certainly didn’t hurt either. But she wasn’t my type. I’d developed a taste for something more particular. More singular.
Blonde hair with purple tips.
Green eyes.
A body that made you want to sin.
“Hey Dane,” she giggled nervously.
I doubted my plan for a split second, and then I thought fuck it.
“You got plans tonight?” I asked.
Her eyes widened, and she stood a little taller. “No?”
Despite not feeling it, or feeling her, my mouth turned up into the grin that I knew got the girls. “You do now. Have dinner with me. We can get to know each other better.”
“Okay,” she replied without hesitating. “What time should I be ready?”
“I’ll fetch you at say, seven?”
“Perfect.”
She walked away, and I’d forgotten about my plan to speak to Kennedy. This plan sounded a whole lot better.
I think.
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES into dinner, I realized that I’d made a mistake. Sure, Ashley was a beautiful girl, and it was obvious she was extremely intelligent, but we had absolutely nothing in common. I asked myself through every awkward silence – and there were many – why I was subjecting either of us to this special kind of sadism, and the answer was always the same.
It wasn’t the date itself, but rather what happened afterwards. If my timing were on point, it would be worth the pre-torture. I did the gentlemanly thing and paid for our food, and then drove Ashley back to our dorms. It was barely nine thirty when we stopped outside mine and Reid’s apartment door.
“So…” Ashley rocked back and forth on her heels.
I rubbed the back of my neck.
“I had a nice time,” she said quickly. It was an ineffective attempt at diffusing the uncomfortable atmosphere, but I applauded her valiant effort.
“Uh, yeah, I did too.”
We stared at each other for a beat, and then I heard keys jingling. I looked up and saw Kennedy walking down the hallway towards her door.
Perfect timing.
She looked up.
That was my cue.
I wrapped my arm around Ashley’s waist, and tugged her to me, sealing my mouth over hers. I kissed her with extra enthusiasm, which she seemed to return, while never taking my eyes off Kennedy. She watched me devour her friends lips, listened to her moan while my tongue traced the contours of her mouth.
That was what I’d been betting on. The hurt and duplicity colliding in her eyes.
Now she knew how I felt when I saw her with another guy only days after I’d had her. I saw her withdraw into herself, and when she slammed their apartment door closed, I pulled away from Ashley and walked into mine and Reid’s’ apartment.
Pressing my back against the door, I sighed, and let my head fall back. “Shit,” I muttered.
My stomach sank, and regret coursed its way through my veins. That was a mistake.
And I needed to drink because I was an asshole.
Let’s have a toast to the douchebags, let’s have a toast to the assholes, I sang in my head. Kanye West sure knew what he was talking about.
I stepped towards the fridge when I heard a moan. My feet stopped, and my ears perked.