Writing A Wrong (Write Stuff 2)

I waited a few seconds and knocked again.

It was a sign. Even in my slightly drunken state, I could see that. I turned to leave just as the door opened. Greg stood in the doorway in nothing but a towel, looking puzzled to see me standing there.

My throat dried up at the sight o

f him in terry cloth. I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out.

"Nicole?"

I lurched forward before I could lose my nerve. My arms wrapped around his neck, dragging his lips to mine.

Chapter 16

Greg stood rigid in my arms for a moment before gathering me close. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, deepening the kiss. The thin towel did nothing to hide the evidence of how badly he wanted me. My hands moved to his chest, wanting to slide lower to rip the towel from his body. His tongue slid past my lips as his fingers weaved into my hair. I waited for the fireworks. The spark of intense heat that never failed to burn through my body anytime Alec kissed me. I pressed closer to grind against him, trying to spark the fire to life. Nothing. It was as if my hormones were broken. The lying, cheating bastard broke my libido.

I pulled away in defeat. I shouldn't have started this. In my misery, I shamelessly dragged Greg into my pit of despair.

"What's wrong?" he asked, pulling me closer.

I shoved him away with as much strength as I could muster. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here," I turned to leave, but he snagged my wrist.

"Obviously you've had a few too many. What happened?" Surprisingly, he didn't look upset, but more concerned.

Sighing, I slumped against the doorframe, losing the will to hold myself up. "Alec is cheating on me." The words felt as heavy as bricks trying to push me down and break me.

"Shit," Greg muttered, wiping his hands on the towel wrapped around his waist. "So you came here for revenge."

Tears of embarrassment streaked down my cheeks. "You're right. I'm an awful person. No one ever wants to believe it, but deep down I'm pond scum."

He chuckled. "You're not pond scum. You just overreacted. Believe me, I would have preferred you knocking on my door because you couldn't resist my animal magnetism."

I started to laugh, but it strained and died before fully developing. His ego might have felt differently if he knew his kiss really did nothing for me. "I am pond scum."

"Would it make you feel better if I said the kiss was good for me even though you're a little tipsy?" he asked, plucking the thoughts from my head.

More tears coursed down my cheeks. I shook my head. "Not for me. I'm sorry. I swear I wanted it to feel good. I think that bastard broke me," I sobbed.

"Ouch," Greg said, clutching his chest. "I was giving you my best stuff there too." He led me away from the door and sat me down on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry. Here it was my job to take care of the talent, but this one was out of my control," he said, calling me by the nickname he and Olivia had coincidently come up with together. "I'm going to throw some clothes on. Eat this," he said, handing me a candy bar. "I'm guessing you drank on an empty stomach, right?"

I nodded, accepting the candy.

He shook his head, exasperated. "Give me a second to change and then we'll talk. Don't go anywhere," he added, closing the bathroom door behind him.

I stared at the closed door, rubbing my teary eyes until they became blurry. I wanted to leave. Forcing Greg into my melodrama was unfair.

I stood up on shaky legs, catching my hideous reflection in the mirror. The evidence of pain was etched in every feature on my face. My shoulders slumped from the weight of my despair. I reached a finger toward my reflection, hardly recognizing the person staring back at me.

Greg opened the bathroom door to intercept me just as I made the decision to leave. "Whoa, where you going?"

"I shouldn't be here. It's not fair to you," I mumbled.

"Because I'm shamelessly in love with you and you just left me with blue balls?" he joked.

"See? Not love. Maybe lust," I muttered. The L-word was now forbidden to me. It was a meaningless term that people tossed around without really meaning it. I remember reading a dystopian novel where the ability to love was removed from people. At the moment it sounded like a keen idea.

Greg chuckled, leading me away from the door again and into a chair. "You sit there and I'll sit here," he said, sitting on the edge of his bed, where I had just been. "Now talk."

"I don't want to talk." I wanted to punch myself in the face at how insolent I sounded.