Page 21 of His Good Girl

“Well, then I better get changed, and we better not pre drink too much. I’ll drive us.” She squeals and turns on music while I search through my closet for something to wear.

“Hey, Lexie, why don’t we just pack a few days’ worth of stuff and crash at my dad’s place? He’s on a business trip, but he won’t care if we stay there.” A lump forms in my throat at the idea of being in Finn's home when he isn’t. Pushing those feelings into the little black box in my heart, I smile and grab a duffle bag. At least he won’t be there to confuse me and drive me crazy—small mercies.

We’re out the door in record time. As we step into the elevator, Marcee types furiously into her phone. “Marlina is going to meet us at the door at eleven. Apparently, she knows the bouncer, so we should be able to bypass the long lines.”

We pull into the lot right at eleven o’clock, and the line for the door is winding down the long sidewalk. Thank God, Marlina pulls through and we walk right in. I pause just inside the door, taking in the venue. The club is wild, to say the least. There are performers dancing in cages, their bodies swaying and undulating to the loud music. Marcee's eyes light up, and she pulls me straight to the bar where she promptly orders three shots. I shake my head and jingle my keys in front of her.

“Hell no, Lexie! We’ll get an Uber back, but you are drinking with me!” Marcee announces with a no-nonsense attitude. I take the shot from her hand, dropping my keys into my purse.

“Cheers to a night of bad decisions,” I shout, clinking the tequila shot with both girls before throwing it back. The burn of the alcohol slides down my throat, setting the mood, and any night starting with tequila is bound to be interesting. Three guys instantly approach us, buying us drinks and asking us to dance. We grab our free cocktails and take them out onto the dance floor.

By midnight, I find myself dancing in one of the cages with Marlina and Marcee. A while later I'm still dancing, but I can’t find Marcee. Searching the crowd, I start to freak out a little but relax when I spot her at the table we were using. Marcee is drunk as fuck and making out with one of the guys in the booth, get it girl. Scanning the club for Marlina, I spot her flaming red hair as she slips into the restroom with a very hot guy in tow. My heart squeezes as I remember another night when I was the one sneaking into a bathroom with someone I never imagined I had a shot with. Fuck.

I finish the rest of my drink and steel my resolve. I have to quit obsessing over him and let go of the idea of there ever being an “us.” On a whim, I decide to show him what he’s missing and the fact that I'm not sitting around pathetically pining for him. Snapping a selfie of myself in the cage, I hit send, then put my phone away, not even bothering to see if he responds. Smiling, I grab the bars and lose myself in the music. Reclaiming the Lexie that doesn’t wallow over a broken heart and knows how to have a good time. I fucking needed this.

27

FINN

The ding of my phone wakes me with a start from where I had fallen asleep against the headboard, with a book in my lap. I see Alexis’s name and check the time—it’s nearly one in the morning. I drop the phone twice before I get it unlocked, sheer panic flooding my veins. What if something happened to her or Marcee? I'm hours away.

Opening the message, I find a picture of her at a club. Her sultry red lips are pulled into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. I zoom in and note the large crowd, and that she's in some sort of cage. What the hell? She's wearing a red skintight dress that hugs every curve. Jealousy boils in my gut. She’s obviously at a club, and in that dress, no way is she going home alone. Then it hits me. I recognize the logo in the background. She’s in Huntington Beach. Hastily, I type out a response. Not bothering to flirt or attempting to play it cool.

Me:

Alexis, call me.

I stare at the phone, tapping my finger against my thigh impatiently. It stays unread.

Me:

Alexis, just let me know you’re safe.

Still nothing.

Me:

Please don’t hook up with anyone.

I stare at the screen, not sure what I want to say next. That’s not true. I want to beg her not to find someone else, beg her to wait for me in my bed and tell her I'm coming for her. I hop out of bed and start getting dressed. I can’t decide which emotion is driving me at this point, but there is a jumbled mess of fear, anxiety, and jealousy like I haven’t felt since I saw that guy grinding on her weeks ago. Just thinking of someone else with her, touching her, tasting her in the way I didn’t get the chance to. It drives me beyond rational thought. I need to get home.

I send a quick email to the team I was meeting with in the morning, telling them something came up and I need to head home early. I’ll have my lawyer look over the contracts and get back to them within seven days. Next, I call the front desk and ask them to get me a flight booked tonight.

In the end, I charter a private jet and am buckling my seatbelt in just a couple hours. I’m dead on my feet as the car that picked me up at the airport drops me off at my house. My heart hammers in my chest as I search for either of their cars but not seeing them. It’s past closing time, they should be here by now. Adrenaline spikes in my veins, chasing away the tiredness that was dragging me under just minutes before. I storm into the house. It’s silent, but I see two purses on the island and fast-food wrappers littering the kitchen. I can’t help but smile when I spot the greasy taco stand bag in front of me. The girls had quite the night, and if I was to venture a guess, they will be sleeping in very late today.

I make my way to my room, ready for a shower and my bed when a sobering thought slams into me. What if they aren’t alone? What if they brought guys home with them? Marcee knew I was out of town and the house would be empty all weekend. I take the stairs two at a time and burst into the room set up for Alexis without knocking. The bed is empty. I head to Marcee’s room and stand there debating if I want to open that door. Nope, not going to risk that. No dad wants to see their daughter in bed with someone.

Instead, I walk to my bedroom, taking deep breaths and trying to calm the nerves about possible guys in my house, doing God knows what. I notice that a couple of my dresser drawers are open, and a red dress that I recognize is on the floor of my bathroom along with a matching G-string. I pick it up and smell it, unable to resist. I still have her little black thong in my nightstand. Ugh, even I’m tired of myself these days, pathetically pining for a girl I have no business being with.

I sit on the edge of my bed and drop my head into my hands, resting my elbows on my knees. I’m bone tired but can’t relax, pent-up energy and stress are making my skin tingle and feel tight.

Then an idea sparks and I make my way downstairs to the living room. There she is, my girl, passed out on the couch in one of my surf competition T-shirts, with Schitt’s Creek playing on the TV. I look over my shoulder to make sure Marcee isn’t coming down the stairs before I crouch down in front of Alexis. Brushing her hair away from her face, I kiss her forehead then cover her with a blanket. Damn, she's perfect, and an ache deep down in my heart starts when I realize how much I love seeing her in my shirt.

Why does she have to be Marcee’s best friend?

I let my hands drift over her body, relishing in her warmth and the relief that she's safe and alone. I kiss her one more time before standing and heading to the door.

“I didn’t hook up with anyone,” comes from the goddess on the couch and I smile at her from the doorway.