Writing A Wrong (Write Stuff 2)

"Okay then, I'll talk."

"Now all of a sudden you want to be Dr. Phil? For two weeks you've barely said anything."

"Blame it on my ego," he said, holding up his hands to surrender. "I'm not used to being shot down so effectively. Usually I'm able to get by on my charm."

I smiled at the way he wagged his eyebrows. "You didn't need to charm me. It was nice just being friends."

"You're right. You never showed that you wanted to be any more than friends. Anything beyond that was on me. You can't blame me for trying though, right? I mean, you are extremely attractive. Guys have to notice you wherever you go."

I sat for a moment, processing the sincerity of his sentiment. He was sweet. Under different circumstances there may have been more between us. I smiled in appreciation until he began to smirk slightly. "Wait a second. You're still trying, you jerk." My mind was still buzzing from my drinks at the bar, but I could tell when I was being hit on.

He clapped his hands, laughing. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. Do you forgive me?" he asked as I slapped his shoulder. "Okay, seriously now. Friends?" He held out his hand, waiting for me to accept it.

I eyed him warily before sliding my hand on top of his. "Promise? Nothing more?"

"I swear. You'll be nothing more than a passing phase. I won't even picture you naked anymore."

"God, you perv," I said, slapping him again as he nearly fell off the bed from laughing. "Is that supposed to be your way of making me feel better?"

"All right, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just too much fun messing with you while you're drunk. Speaking of which, when we say friends, are we talking like fuck buddies? 'Cause I'm all in."

A startled laugh mixed with a snort bubbled out of me. "You're such a pig."

"At least I got you laughing," he said, giving my hand a squeeze.

"That you did. You really did," I said, shaking my head. I began to cry as the crushing reason why I had even knocked on his door reared its ugly head again. My phone call to Lily had taken me on an emotional roller coaster and now I was riding the down slope.

Greg handed me a box of tissues from the nearby table and settled back down on the edge of the bed. "Hey, come on now. I just got you cheered up. Why don't you tell me what happened?"

I was a snotty mess but couldn't summon enough will to care. Greg waited patiently while I pulled a handful of tissues from the box and blew my nose loudly. After mopping up my face, I was able to collect myself enough to spill the sordid details of Alec's betrayal.

Greg was an intent listener. A skill he claimed he had perfected from growing up with sisters. He offered a sympathetic ear, reacted when appropriate, and gave me plenty of space to cry it out when my second wave of tears became impossible to hold back.

We talked long into the night. Eventually, we crawled onto the bed and he continued listening until my voice became rough and my red swollen eyes could no longer produce any more tears. We drifted to sleep, innocently holding hands. He had provided the comfort of friendship I desperately needed.

I woke up suddenly to complete darkness. My feet were already on the ground and yet, I couldn't remember standing up. I reached out for something to get my bearings—the bed, the nightstand, but nothing came into grasp. I felt trapped under the weight of the vast darkness surrounding me. The only thing teasing my senses was a persistent buzzing that filled my brain. No matter how much I shook my head, the noise wouldn't clear. Something inside me told me to run, but I felt afraid. There was no sense of direction. The buzzing continued. I dropped to my knees, covering my head with my hands. Then I heard a voice. It was muffled but definitely talking to me. My arm began to shake and my heart painfully ached. My hands moved from my head to my chest as the voice became more discernible. It was Greg.

My eyes sprang open, fluttering as they struggled with the sun shining through the hotel room window. Greg stood over me, but his face was slightly blurred. I rolled over and pulled the pillow over my head, trying to block the light, but Greg yanked it away. "Nicole, you have to wake up."

I groaned, opening my eyes a crack to focus on his face as he shook my arm.

"It's Alec," he said, holding out my phone.

My head spun around as I raised myself to a seating position. I eyed the phone warily. Part of me couldn't believe he had the balls to call me. I couldn't help but wonder how long I'd been a sucker to his lying, cheating ways. I clenched my hands into fists, struggling to resist the urge to throw the phone against the wall.

"I think you should talk to him," Greg said, practically pressing the phone into my hand. He wasn't going to allow me to hide from this.

I glared at him before reluctantly taking the phone. He grabbed his wallet and room key and left the room, offering a smile of encouragement on his way out.

"Hey," I said drearily. Asshole would have been a more appropriate greeting, but that would come after I let him hang himself.

"Why the fuck is Greg answering your phone at seven o'clock in the morning?"

I recoiled at his accusatory tone. A film of red blurred my vision. How dare he accuse me? He was out of his ever-loving mind. The sheer craziness of the situation made me laugh manically. "Oh my god," I snapped. "Hey, pot, this is kettle. Guess what? You're black."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The confusion in his voice was a nice touch, but I wasn't buying the brand of bullshit he was peddling anymore. "It means you can stop lying, Alec. I know the truth. Do us both a favor and give me the courtesy of owning up to it, and while you're at it, clear all your shit out of my apartment. If that goes beyond your abilities, I'm sure my brothers will be more than willing to help out." It was a veiled threat, but I knew someone of his intelligence would have no trouble figuring it out.