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“Too bad Charlie doesn’t see it that way.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her,” he tells me, followed by a disturbing smirk.
“Oh man, that sounds dirty.” I cringe. “Any chance I can sleep in Amelia’s room? Her loud snoring is exactly what I could use tonight.”
“Trust me, Noah, your cousin is headstrong. Don’t be surprised if you find me on the couch because she’s on a men-and-their-stupid-dicks rant.”
“The Lakers played tonight. I’ll join you in watching the rerun.” I laugh, trying to forget this night has even happened.
And in the short distance ahead, I see Kate rolling her eyes at Charlie. The mouth on my cousin. She’s going on and on about how irresponsible Kate is, and what was she thinking taking me out tonight. No wonder Charlie’s a lawyer. Her ability to argue is why she’s so damn successful. Plus, a huge pain in the fucking ass.
We leave them out on the porch while Lex grabs us drinks and a bag of Doritos. The neighbor, who had kindly dropped by to watch the girls while Charlie and Lex left, leaves with a quick goodbye.
I tell him I’ll be back and head for the shower. I make it quick, not wanting to miss a second of the game yet desperate to wash away the sand and itchy feeling all over my body. I know at some point I’m going to have to tell my mom, I know I can’t hide this forever. But for now, I need to unwind. And a repeat of the Lakers game is just what I need.
Charlie enters the room and sees both of us sitting in the recliners. She seems to have aged tonight. Her face is withdrawn with dark circles starting to shadow her eyes. “I’m calling it a night,” she says, defeated.
“Yeah, you look tired,” I say, watching the screen as Lex yells something about the game above the television.
“Well, let’s see… I got puke on me when Amelia projectile vomited dinner. After getting her in the bath, I discovered that she took the blueberries out of the fridge and left them on the table where Ava decided they would be better squashed into the carpet.” She sighs, continuing on, “Then I get a call that my cousin and best friend are naked and having sex on the beach. To top it off, my bike, which you begged to borrow, is sitting in Malibu waiting to be collected.”
“I’ll collect your bike, but we weren’t having sex,” I answer in my defense.
“You know what?” She points at me. “I don’t care anymore. Do whatever the hell you want to do, Noah. Men and their dicks…”
And just like Lex said, the dick rant begins.
KATE
The afternoon before meeting Noah for drinks…
Stupid, irresponsible, reckless, idiotic—and the list goes on of names I could call myself right now.
I’d succumb to my own insecurities, texting Dominic even though there is nothing left to say. Well, at least, he has nothing left to say. The second I hit send, I instantly regret it, falling into a heap on my bathroom floor consumed by the realization of my actions. Not only did I text him back, I questioned his ability to pretend like there was nothing between us.
I have royally fucked up, unsure of how I even got to this point. The memory of a stranger fucking me on all fours while Dominic watched haunts me every which way I turn. But like a double-edged sword, that moment is followed by our own intimate rendezvous inside his office.
“Everything you are is everything I’m not supposed to feel,” he whispered.
His stare was vicious like an animal ready to attack its prey. My heart began to beat erratically, a mixture of anticipation and adrenaline all rolled into one. Every kiss, and every touch, burned in my memory like a trail of destruction. I allowed my inhibitions to unleash if only for that night, and now I’m reveling in the mess I created for myself.
Waiting for a response and one week late on my period.
“Should I order the grapefruit arugula salad or the Caprese salad?” Eric asks out loud, tapping his finger against his lip as he scours the menu.
Letting out a breath, I distract myself once again by reading the menu and not checking my cell for the hundredth time today.
“Why are you even entertaining the salad option when we both know you want the pork marinade fillets with fries on the side?” I tell him, placing the menu down.
The waiter appears at our table, waiting impatiently to take our order.
“I’ll have the grilled swordfish, and he…” I say, gesturing to Eric, “… will have the pork marinade fillets with a side of fries.”
“Is that all?” the waiter asks, almost rudely.
“The chicken steamed dumplings,” Eric adds.
I raise my eyebrows. A moment ago, Eric was perusing the salad menu, and now he’s ordering dumplings? I’m too mentally drained even to argue this knowing all too well he’ll complain later when he hops on the scale at the gym.
