Chapter 8
Kady
Drinking when you’re upset, especially over a guy, is never a good idea. Either is drinking shots of Grappa.
If you’ve ever drank this strong, corrosive liquor, you know that it tastes like cat piss. It’s horrible. I have no idea how the Italians can drink this shit on the reg.
The only plus side is that after only one shot of the stuff you feel like the weight of the world has been lifted. And right now, everything in my life is looking pretty damn good.
The buzz I have going on is from the Grappa, an Aperol spritz and now a glass of red wine that I’ve had over the last hour and a half. I’m sure I’ll regret all of this in the morning, but until then, you only live once, right?
No amount of alcohol, however, will stop me from regretting what happened earlier in the bathroom with Gavin – or Monk, as I’m now referring to him in my head. I mean, seriously. What straight guy walks away from a horny, sober girl who practically begs for it?
Only a monk, that’s who.
Gavin’s rejection and subsequent departure sent me in a tailspin. I was seething over his brushoff. Once I calmed my anger down, I then felt incredibly embarrassed by my actions. My sexually explicit actions.
I can’t remember ever being denied by a guy when I offered something up. It just doesn’t happen. That sounds egotistical – and maybe it is to some extent – but collecting men and their affections has been my super power.
When I realized I could gain boys’ attention through my looks and kittenish behavior, I used that to my advantage. I love the surge of power I get when I can turn a guy on with just a look, a flip of the hair or a sway of my hips. Maybe that’s the definition of a slut or a tramp, I don’t know. I’d never classify myself in that way.
I’m not easy, I just know I’m a sexual being. I simply have a healthy sexual appetite and an appreciation for the male species. Unfortunately, there is this thing known in polite society as a double-standard. And you’re looking at her. If I were a guy who enjoyed getting with girls, without establishing relationships, it’d be no biggie. I’d just be “sowing my wild oats.”
But I’m a girl, which means the word slut has been thrown my way so many times behind my back, I might as well have it tattooed there.
I wonder if that’s why Gavin doesn’t want to be with me. Maybe he thinks my behavior is too overtly sexual.
The dude baffles the hell out of me. I’d joked earlier with Kylah that I thought he could be gay. Maybe I have misread the attraction I feel and I’m barking up the wrong tree. I suppose there’s a slight possibility he’s gay. I hear a lot of gay guys in sports choose to hide it and not come out because of the repercussions and damage it can have on their career. And the horrible locker room treatment they receive.
But based on his dick’s eager reaction to me on several occasions, the chances are slim. I think he is attracted to me but is hesitant for some reason. I just don’t know what it is.
Gavin didn’t return home after my little show in the bathroom. I was so confused by his departure that I stood staring in the bathroom mirror questioning everything I knew about myself. I guess there’s a chance that I came on too strong. If he is into girls, maybe he likes them more submissive.
Or hells bells, maybe he has a girlfriend back home and he’s trying to be faithful. Shit, I hadn’t even thought to ask. That seems to make the most sense. I’ll be sure to ask him, if he ever shows up tonight.
An hour after he left, he sent me a text with the address of the club where we were to meet his friend Luca tonight. Gavin mentioned it was just a few blocks away and told me to go on without him, he’d meet us there. I was instructed to go in, find Luca and start a tab.
So that’s exactly what I did. After getting ready, I resolved to put all that weirdness behind me. When Gavin and I meet up again later, I’ll pretend nothing happened. I’ll ask him about his girlfriend and why he failed to mention her to me. All this uncomfortable tip-toeing around each other could have been avoided if he’d just been up front with me.
While waiting for Gavin to arrive, I’ve been enjoying myself with Luca. We hadn’t met yet, but he was pretty easy to spot in the club.
Luca is a tall and gorgeous Italian man, with a delicious accent, dark hair who wears a lot of cologne. Men all over Italy like their cologne concoctions. They must go through hundreds of bottles a year. It reminds me of Jordan Bailey in the eighth grade and his Axe body spray obsession. I had to hold my breath every time we made out because the smell was so obnoxious.
It makes me miss Gavin’s light, masculine scent. It’s a subtle hint of smoky, spicy cologne and fresh soap. That’s it. And the scent drives me wild. I want to rub my nose in the crook of his neck and never come up for air.
Within ten minutes of meeting Luca, I found that we have matching personalities and are two peas in a pod. We’re both huge flirts and enjoy the opposite sex. We hit it off immediately, but in a sibling fashion. There was no sizzle and zap with Luca that I feel around Gavin.
Luca’s gaze has constantly wandered and meandered greedily around the club, latching on to every beautiful woman in the room. Anytime a hot woman passes our table, his dark eyes veer in her direction, his attention drawn to her beauty and physical assets.
At first it was super annoying and distracting, and I wanted to grab his face to return his attention back to me. Hello! I’m right here, asshole.
After I had a few drinks in me, it became almost comical, so I decided to help him in his search for the perfect woman.
I’m looking around the room and notice a potential for him. “Ooh la la, one coming our way at your two o’clock. And she has you in her sights,Romeo.”
Luca’s head snaps to his left and I laugh, reaching out to grip his chin and turning him in the opposite direction.
“I saidyourtwo o’clock, not mine,” I snort.
