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I wince at his comment. It sickens me more than the alcohol and breakup heartbreak combined. He had to bring up our history, knowing today is already hell for me.
I throw down the fry in my hand, sick and tired of his games. “Did you forget that happened years ago?”
The playfulness on his face falls into regret. “Chloe.”
I brush my hands together, removing the salt on my fingertips, and push the basket of fries toward him. “Save it. I don’t want to think about it tonight. I have enough disturbing memories to drink away. I don’t need another on my list.”
He leans back and snags another fry. “Fine by me. I’d prefer not to talk about it either unless you give me the chance to explain myself.”
“Hard pass.”
He grabs the water and hands it to me. “How about we make a toast?”
I take it from him with a frown. At least he’s changing the subject.
“No.”
He grabs my wrist, pulls my hand up, and clinks my water against his beer. “What if we toast to douchebags?”
“To you then.”
He shrugs. “I was thinking more of your ex, but I’ll take your verbal abuse because I’m a nice guy.” He sets his glass down to settle his elbow on the bar again and puts his attention on me. “Why are you upset though? Word is, you cheated on Kent before he fucked around with Lacy.”
“Cheated?” I scoff. I’m tired of Kent using it as an excuse for his unfaithfulness. “I hardly believe it’s cheating when it’s with yourself.”
His head cocks to the side as he blinks in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”
I want to stop talking, but the alcohol forces me to defend myself. “Icheatedon Kent with myself.”
His lips curve into a wicked smile. “Explain, please.”
Oh shit, Chloe. Abort confession. A-fucking-bort confession.
The confession pouring from my mouth seconds later informs me that I’m no longer sober enough to make responsible decisions. “He caught me, uh … pleasuring myself … you know … doing his job.” The words come out in slow stutters.
His mouth drops open at the same time he knocks over his drink with his elbow. I’ve never seen him so flustered before. I smile, knowing I caught him off guard.
He stares at me with interest. “Are you telling me, he got pissed at you for playing with your pussy?” He grins. “Damn, I thought I was possessive.”
“Don’t say it like that,” I grumble, wishing I could cut and run from this conversation. Unfortunately, I’m certain I can’t even get off my stool without falling on my face.
He grabs a napkin and cleans up his mess. “So, he’s labeling you a cheater for getting yourself off?”
I avert eye contact. “Yes.”
Half his body slides off his seat when he moves in closer. “Can you please provide details of what happened, so I can determine if he’s correct?”
I press him into his own space. “I gave you the details.”
“You didn’t give me shit for details. Was it with your hand? A sex toy?” He tilts his head back and groans. “Fuck, this makes my night.”
I hold my hand up as a flush of embarrassment hits my cheeks. “Oh my God, I’m not doing this with you.”
He runs his tongue over his lips. “Come on,” he begs. “Give my imagination something pleasurable to think about when I’m home with my hand around my dick.”
Oh my God.
I shut my eyes and pull at the collar of my top, suddenly burning up.
