Wildcard: Volume Two

“Why the fuck did you let me drink so much?” I mumble.

My head is throbbing. I literally can’t even lift it off the couch that I’m sprawled across.

Josh laughs, and I hear him sink into the seat next to me. “Like I could stop you,” he protests. “Besides, since when you do struggle to hold your drink?”

Since I’d been so preoccupied with Scar the past four weeks.

“Fuck you,” I mumble instead.

“Here.”

I open my eyes and gratefully take the coffee Charlotte is holding out for me.

“Things didn’t go too well with Lissa?” she asks, trying not to smile.

I groan as I remember the outburst. God, I don’t even want to think about it.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“So, now isn’t a good time to tell you you’re on TMZ?” She giggles, covering her mouth. Her bright eyes are laughing at me.

“What?” My head pounds as I struggle to sit up. I take the laptop she’s holding out for me, and I sigh. Of course someone had snapped a photo on their phone. The photo shows Lissa mid-scream in all her naked glory while I stand at the doors to the lift with my head lowered, my hand covering my face.

The headline reads ‘Another One Bites the Dust.’

“You have to explain,” Charlotte begs me.

“I couldn’t do it. And when I tried to leave...mid-blowjob, she went fucking nuts.”

“You left her mid blowjob?” Charlotte screeches. “Couldn’t you have faked it or something?”

“Faked it how?” I protest. “Should I have pretended to shoot semen into her mouth? Gee, sorry, honey, you must have swallowed it already. She was ditzy, but not that ditzy.”

“Surely you’ve faked an orgasm before,” she scoffs. She glances at Josh in support, who is being strangely quiet. He shrugs helplessly. “And plenty of guys orgasm without ejaculating. Josh does it on occasion.”

Oh, God. I cover my eyes, unable to look at my friend.

Way, way, way too much information.

“Char,” Josh growls, his face turning a deep shade of red.

“What?” She huffs. “Why don’t guys talk about this shit? No wonder you’re all so fucked up.”

She storms off, leaving Josh and I alone for a very awkward minute until my taxi arrives. We both look relieved as the horn blasts outside.

“I’ll speak to you soon,” I say, slapping him on the back. He follows me to the door. I get halfway down the path and turn back. “Good luck with your match tomorrow, blankshooter!”

***

I arrive at the airport just in time to make my flight. After checking in, I’m spotted by a group of fans demanding autographs. I take the paper they’re holding out for me and groan.

It’s the same photo from the TMZ website, only this headline reads ‘Another Day, Another Woman.’ I sign it and pose for a couple of photos before sprinting to the boarding gate, only to realize the plane is running late.

With a sigh, I fall into the nearest seat and catch my breath. My phone rings. I see it’s Matt, and press answer.

“You’re not there to fuck your way through the US.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve already done that,” I chuckle. “Besides, my private life is my business.”