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“Seriously? What the fuck, dude?” I hiss, coming to my feet.
“You were doing it again.” Jon straightens, holding his hands up in surrender, his forehead creased in confusion. “What’s your deal? Where’s your head at?”
“Nowhere.” Jon recoils at my snappy tone, and an instant twinge of regret knots in my stomach. This woman has taken over my entire headspace, and it’s left me feeling abnormally on edge. “What’s so damn important?” I ask, lowering myself back into my chair.
“I was trying to tell you about the plans for tomorrow night.” He still sounds a little sullen but makes his way into my room, running his hands through his long, wavy blond hair before tucking them into his front pockets.
“What about them?” I tilt my head to look at the ceiling, willing the tension to leave my body.
Jon shouldn’t have to deal with me acting like an asshole. He’s been my best friend for as far back as I can remember, and he’s stuck around through thick and thin for longer than I deserve. Far too much of my life has been wasted feeling sorry for myself, and I have a bad habit of taking my grievances out on other people—mainly Jon.
He’s always been aware and accepting of my issues, though. They’d been the catalyst of our friendship. In second grade, when my alcoholic father busted my lip for getting in his way, I took it out on the first person who attempted to show me compassion. Poor Allison was in tears when Jon stepped in. He was half my size and stood up to me to protect someone he cared about without fear. It was so admirable. I wanted someone like that in my life.
I’ve never deserved having a friend like Jon Alder, but I’m damn sure grateful for him.
Jon is the one who encouraged me and helped me get back on my feet these last few years. Despite my continuous efforts to push him away. He’s a rare breed—loyal and kind, almost to a fault. There’s no doubt in my mind I wouldn’t be doing as well as I am today without his friendship.
“Dinner with my parents,” he bites out.
Guilt washes over me again. I forgot his parents were coming to visit tomorrow. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to be a shithead,” I apologize, bringing my eyes back to focus on him. “You have my full attention this time, I swear.” I shoot him my best toothy smile and straighten in my chair.
“Screw you, dude. Your panty-dropping smile doesn’t work on me.” He crosses his arms, but his attempt to appear angry is foiled by the twitch of his lip, and he quickly gives up the act.
Letting out a sigh, he shakes his head before continuing. “Okay, like I was saying, we’re meeting at Outback.” Pausing, he lifts an eyebrow, questioning whether I’m still listening. I nod and gesture for him to continue. “Make sure you’re there at seven, dipshit. I’m not covering for you again if you get sidetracked by some woman.”
I rub the hair on my jawline and laugh. He was so pissed when I ditched dinner to hop on a plane to Vegas with a woman I’d met only a few hours prior. “Don’t hate on me for living my life in the moment. Besides, I’d never been to Vegas. I wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity like that.”
“I get it, dude, and I would much rather you be living in the moment than acting like a little emo fucker with a damn chip on his shoulder, but—”
He laughs as I flip him off. “But if you do that to me again, you’ll be the one explaining to Mom and Dad how you flaked on them so you could blow your load in some random chick.”
Scoffing, I get up and walk over to my dresser. Jon often refers to his parents as if they’re mine too, and I’ve never been sure how I feel about it. They’ve certainly been there for me more than my biological parents ever were, but they weren’t the ones responsible for raising me—no matter how much I wish they were.
“Don’t get your damn panties in a bunch,” I reply, rifling through the drawers of my dresser for a change of boxers and a clean black T-shirt. “I’ll be there.”
Angela asked me to go with her to a new club in Nashville tonight, and I’m hoping she can help rid my thoughts of that woman. She’s the closest I get to anything resembling a girlfriend. We have a mutual agreement. It’s good to have someone you can go to when you’re in need of a release. Much safer than picking up random strangers, never knowing what you might end up with.
“You better be, asshole.”
“Or what?” Brushing past him on my way to the shower, I nudge him with my shoulder. “You going to do something about it, little man?”
Jon scowls as I laugh and make my way down the hall. He’s always been smaller than me and despises being teased about it. Which, of course, only makes it more fun.
“I’m going out,” I tell him. “Don’t wait up, kiddo.”
