“Not that you don’t have a spectacular…foyer,” Guy says flatly, “but can we maybe move into the living room and sit down or something?”
“No,” Park spits. I would be squirming under his glare, but Hope ignores him completely. I don’t know what to say. He’s being really rude, but I don’t know the details of their history. Maybe he has a right to be. But I can’t imagine Guy bringing her here to upset Park, either. This isn’t my apartment, but my manners take over.
“Come on into the kitchen. There’re donuts.”
Park shoots me an unhappy look and I bite my lip. He shakes his head and looks away. “You can’t stay here,” he murmurs.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Hope says.
He’s good at avoiding people. He’s done it to me.
“A normal person would assume I wouldn’t want to see them,” he fires back.
Hope shrugs one shoulder. “I’m not normal.”
“I don’t want you here.” He says it so harshly that I flinch.
“Too bad,” Hope grinds out. “I’m only home for a little bit longer and I missed you. Quit being a dickhead.”
Park pats his jean pockets and sighs in frustration. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.” With that, he pivots on his heel, and stalks off to his room.
“Well that went better than I expected,” Guy breathes.
Hope grins at him. “Progress.” She turns back to me. “You said there were donuts?”
“Uh…yeah. Um, in the…the kitchen.” I point a thumb over my shoulder. I’m at a complete loss for words.
“Chocolate?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
Guy tugs on my hand, pulling me after him. “Where’s Jessie?”
“He’s with Bree. In his room.”
He chuckles. “Ah. He’s busy then.” I watch as he and Hope each take a seat before I follow. I’m more than a little confused as to what exactly is happening, and I’m majorly uncomfortable.
“So you’re Lucy,” Hope states. She sits back with a chocolate cream stick, watching me closely.
“So you’re Hope,” I say.
She smirks at me before taking a bite. “So I am.”
“Lulu and Park do not have feelings for each other,” Guy explains. “Isn’t that right, Lu?”
I just stare at him. I have no clue how to answer that. How do I feel about Park? I have no idea. Especially now. His whole reaction to Hope screams unresolved feelings. All I do know is my heart feels broken. My stomach feels sick. And I am seriously lost right now.
“I should go check on Park,” I finally reply.
“He’s smoking,” Hope tells me as she finishes off her last bite.
How does she know that?
Picking up a napkin, she takes her time cleaning her fingers, and then looks at me. Like really looks at me. I fidget under her piercing scrutiny. “I can see it.”
“See what?” I ask.
“Why he likes you.”
“Who?”
She grins. “Whatever he told you about me, it’s all true. It’s just not as bad as he makes it sound. Different points of view, ya know?”
I shake my head slowly. “He hasn’t told me anything really.”
Hope lifts a brow. “What do you want to know?”
I blink. “Everything.” Then I shake my head yet again. “No. Nothing. Not about you and him. He should tell me that.”
Guy makes a noise and my eyes flick to him. He smiles weakly at me. “He’s not going to tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Park says from the doorway, “it’s ancient history.” He folds his arms in front of his chest and glares at the floor. “Go home, Lucy.”
“Stop being an ass,” Hope whispers.
Park smiles at her, but it’s cold, unfriendly, and it sends a chill down my back. “You can go home, too, Hope.”
“Fine,” she says. “I’ll go to Lucy’s. We can get to know each other.”
Park is across the room so quickly I don’t even register his movement until he’s between me and Hope. “Stay the fuck away from her,” he seethes.
“I’m not going to contaminate her,” Hope throws back.
“You contaminate everything you touch,” he shouts. Hope rears back at that as if he hit her.
“Park,” Guy warns with just one word.
Without taking his eyes off of Hope, Park steps back. “Fuck it. I’ll leave. You all have a nice visit.”
I sit dumbfounded, unable to do anything but watch as he walks away.
What the hell just happened? I close my eyes for a moment and take a shaky breath. I feel like I just lost Park before I ever really had him.
22
Park
I drive for hours. By the time I roll through the drive thru for a burger, it’s early evening and I have a massive headache from the chain of cigarettes I’ve smoked. The music doesn’t help either, but the louder I keep it, the more it drowns my thoughts. And the deeper I can sink them the better. I’ll take the physical pain in my head over the pain my mind can cause any day.
Pulling behind the back of the building, I shift into park and lean my seat back. I close my eyes in an attempt to relieve some of the throbbing in my skull. But all I see is Lucy, sitting at the table with Hope.
Fuck.
I unwrap my sandwich and shove half the thing in my mouth. It’s greasy and tastes like shit, but I choke it down anyway. I need something in my stomach because my next stop is for alcohol. Lots of it. I have no idea how long Hope’s planning on sticking around, but I’m going to need to be drunk to deal with it. I crinkle the oily paper in my fist and toss it on the passenger side floor.
When I’m back on the road, I light my last cigarette and add the now empty pack to the trash lining the floor. I skip to a more mellow song, trying to relax. I hate that I allow Hope to get to me. It’s not even her, really. It’s what she represents. I know that, but I have this gut reaction at the sight of her. No matter how many times I tell myself to get past this shit—I can’t. I hold onto it like a life force, as if letting it go will cause it all to happen again.
Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I needed the reminder because I nearly let myself get close to Lucy. I’m pissed at myself for the slip and I feel like shit for what I know I’m going to have to do, but I can’t let it go on. It’s already gone too far.
I pull up in front of the small house that is home to my three band mates. I don’t come here often, but they’re always good for a party. And that’s exactly what I need right now. The door’s hanging wide open and I can hear the rumbling bass of the TV induced gunfire before I even shut the car off.
Two girls are sitting on the porch smoking a joint like it’s legal. I almost don’t recognize Remy—also known as Yoko by everybody in the band except the drummer. And that’s only because he’s her boyfriend. She cut her hair up to her chin and dyed it a deep black. She looks good, but I know how crazy this chick can get, so I usually avoid her. I pluck the joint from between her fingers as I pass by, making eye contact with her friend. She’s cute and might just be what I need tonight.
“Puff, puff, pass,” Remy says, holding out give-me hands. I raise a brow and take a long hit. “Come on, Park. I need to get my buzz on before the house fills up.”
I take another drag and start to hand it back, but shift at the last second, holding it out to the friend. She smiles as she takes it and I know I’ll be getting acquainted with some part of her body before the night’s over.
“The guys are inside,” Remy announces.
I don’t acknowledge her as I lean closer to the friend. “What’s your name?”
“Erika.” Her eyes tumble down the length of my chest and I grin.
“Well, Erika, I think I’m going to be here awhile. Come find me later.”
“She has a boyfriend,” Remy spits. “God, can’t you ever put your dick away?”
“I don’t care,” I retort. And the
n I glance over at her. “Why are you so worried about my dick, Rem?”
She lifts her lip in a disgusted snarl. “Kiss my ass, Park.”
“You’ve smoked way too much if you think my lips are getting anywhere near your ass.” She opens her mouth to reply, but I throw my hand up in front of her face, cutting her off. “Where’s this boyfriend?” I ask Erika.
“He’s supposed to come by later.”
I narrow my gaze on her mouth. “Come find me later,” I say again. “Before he gets here.”
“Get out of my face,” Remy seethes. I step backwards and she glares at me.
“Remy, it’s always a pleasure.”
“Fuck you.”
I chuckle as I pass through the door. “In your dreams.”
“I hate you,” she yells after me.
Not more than I hate myself.
I find the guys in the back room, sprawled out on the couches, playing video games. I settle in next to Lewis and he hands me a beer. “Your girl was hitting on me again,” I say, twisting the cap and sucking down half the bottle.
He shrugs. “Well can you blame her? You are awfully pretty.” Aaron, the bassist, glances over at us, huffing out an amused snort, but he doesn’t comment.
I laugh and take another drink. “This face is a curse.”
Seth sits forward so he can see around Lewis. “Man, I don’t know what the hell you guys are saying. You got a mean mug. I can’t even look at your ugly ass.” He scratches at his buzzed head and tosses his controller on the table. “You didn’t even bring me any presents.”
I shake my head. “No, but I found a nice little gift on the porch.”
He nods. “Erika.” Seth says her name like he plays the guitar—smooth and entrancing. “She’s got a boyfriend.”
I smirk at him. “I could give a shit.” Before he can reply, Erika glides into the room and settles her ass onto my lap.
“Guess she doesn’t give a shit either,” Lewis murmurs and I chuckle.
“Give me another beer,” I say. “My hands are full.”
“I fucking can’t stand this guy,” Seth breathes. “Been here five minutes and he’s already corrupted Erika.”
“This isn’t corruption,” I counter. “I’m not making her do anything.” I slide a hand up her thigh, resting it in her lap, and trail my thumb back and forth. She leans in as I take the beer from Lewis, and I can feel her breath against my throat.
An image of Lucy flashes through my mind and I swallow with difficulty. I need something stronger than piss warm, generic beer. I tap Erika’s leg. “Hey, watch out a second. I need a shot.” She gives me a confused look, but slides off my legs and I shoot out of the chair, stalking to the kitchen. I don’t bother with a glass. Instead I drink straight from the bottle until my throat rejects anymore.
As I set the bottle down, I notice movement out of the corner of my eye. Erika. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, watching her move toward me slowly.
“I’ve been to almost all of your shows.”
I cock a brow as I study her. I don’t recall ever seeing her before. She flips her chestnut hair off one shoulder and wets her lips. They’re nice lips, but she has nothing on Lucy’s gorgeous mouth.
Wait. No. Fuck.
Get out of my head.
I clear my throat and try to focus on the girl that’s actually in the room. “Oh yeah? You a fan?”
She stops in front of me, her fingers slipping into the waist of my jeans. “I’m a huge fan of yours,” she says, her voice dropping. “I love watching you perform.” She blinks, looking up at me through dark lashes.
“You want to get out of here?” I ask.
She nods and I’m following her out the door, the bottle of Jack in my hand.
***
I zip my pants and kick the trash around on the floor, searching for the cigarette I dropped. Everything is spinning, so I give up, pulling another one from my new pack—courtesy of Erika.
“We can’t go back to my place,” she says. “My boyfriend is probably looking for me.”
I glance at her and smirk. Yeah, that’s probably not a good idea. I’m way too drunk to defend myself against some jealous boyfriend. Especially if he finds out I just had my dick in his girl’s mouth.
“We can go back to my place.” I flick my fingers out, motioning for her to drive.
I know I’m giving shitty directions because my brain is refusing to remember street names, but she manages to get us to the apartment. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this is a bad idea. I just don’t care. In fact, I welcome it. I’m on a spiral and I just can’t stop.
This is why I love liquor. It instantly numbs. Fuck lucidity.
I stumble up the stairs and try to get my key in the door. I miss twice before it opens on its own. I lift my head to find Guy staring at me. If disapproval had a face—it’d look like Guy.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I grin at him. “Hey man.”
“What are you doing?” he repeats, his voice coming out in a shrill hiss that makes me cringe. He’d be the voice, too.
“I’m trying to get into my apartment,” I sigh. “Can you back up?”
Guy looks past me and points one finger. “You need to go.”
“You need to go. I fucking live here.”
He rolls his eyes. “Not you. Her.” I glance back and Erika shifts her feet uncomfortably.
“Erika,” I sing. I forgot about her already. “Hey, come here. This is my best friend. You have to come meet him.”
She steps forward and Guy gives a half smile. “Hi. Thanks for getting his drunk ass home, but you can’t stay.”
I feel my eyebrows crinkle in confusion. “Why can’t she can stay? I have plans for her.”
Closing his eyes and taking a noticeable breath, Guy shakes his head. “Park, dude, you’re drunk and not thinking clearly.”
I chuckle, leaning against the doorframe for support. “That’s the point,” I tell him. I tap my temple. “I don’t want to think clearly.”
“Lulu’s here.”
That name stops my heart for a split second before it pounds erratically in my chest. I push off the door and shove past Guy. “Don’t care,” I mutter as I reach back and grab Erika’s hand. I lead her into the living room and take in the sight.
Guess we’re having a party. My eyes trail over the many faces—most I recognize, some I don’t. I stop on that dude Bree hooked Lucy up with. What’s his fucking name?
He nods at me. And I narrow my eyes. “Hi,” he says, standing up. He extends his hand toward me. “I’m Kyle.”
Kyle. That’s right. Douche bag Kyle.
My eyes flick down to his hand then back to his face. I don’t move.
His brows raise and he drops his hand. I sit in the empty chair across from him and finish my perusal of the room. Jessie’s crazy cousin’s here. Awesome. She rolls her eyes as my gaze slides over her. I’m so glad I didn’t hit that.
Lucy’s tucked into the far corner of the couch and doing a great job of keeping her eyes away from me. Beside her, Hope is perched between Mason’s legs.
I glower in their direction. Mason fucking Patel has the balls to come up in my apartment. I laugh. I can’t help it. There’s nothing funny about this situation, but I can’t stop fucking laughing. It’s so ludicrous and I’m drunk as shit. It feels like I’m dreaming.
I pull Erika into my lap, wearing her like a shield. I don’t even know what I’m doing right now. The fact that Lucy still hasn’t looked my way speaks volumes as to the shit this sandwich is made from. But I can’t stop eating it no matter how much I might want to. I’m not in control anymore. Right now I’m ruled by this storm of jealousy and some other emotions I can’t identify. And they’re all amplified by alcohol.
So I’m not to blame when the words come out of my mouth.
“Well, isn’t this a cozy, fucked up party.” I look around the room again ignoring the couple of guys I don’t know, and stopping
on Bree and Jessie. Guy moves to my side and I breathe out silent laughter. “You know, Bree, I think you’re the only girl in this room who hasn’t seen my dick.”
23
Lucy
I whip my head in Park’s direction. My face ignites and my mouth drops open. Did he seriously say what I think he said? His gaze locks on me and he smirks. I feel tears burn my eyes. How could he announce that to the whole room? Especially when he has a girl on his lap. And then I realize what he said. I look at her. At the girl he just admitted to having sex with in not so many words.
I feel someone touch my arm and I tear my eyes away. Hope shakes her head once.
Bree laughs uncomfortably. “Well, I don’t think I’m the only one, but I’m sure nobody really wants to get into that.” She shoots him a murderous look and he leans his head against the back of the chair as if it’s too difficult to hold up any longer.
“Did you fucking get with my cousin?” Jess hisses. “What the fuck?”
Park shrugs carelessly and I clench my jaw as Bree leans into Jessie, whispering in his ear.
“Has anybody been able to get a hold of Chase?” Guy asks. His voice is louder than it needs to be since the room’s fallen silent. He’s clearly trying to change the subject.
“Yeah,” Hope chimes in. “He’s picking up Annie and they’ll be over.”
“Oh, yay,” Park barks. “The whole gang back together.” He lifts his head and grins at Hope’s boyfriend, Mason. “Except you. You aren’t part of the old gang.”
Mason’s brow arches and a dimple shows in his cheek. “No, I’m part of the upgraded version.”
“Upgraded,” Park muses. “Buyer beware.”
“I haven’t heard any complaints,” Mason retorts, his arms tightening around Hope’s waist.
“Is hippie spelled with a y or an ie?” Hope asks suddenly. I wonder how many times these people will attempt to steer the conversation away from Park’s drunken remarks.