“Here I am.” The start of what could be a smile. “Guess I’m just a glutton for punishment. Anyway, how are you? I heard you’ve got your own tattoo parlor now, a sweet crib.”
“I’m not giving you a free tattoo,” I say deadpan.
Catching on, Emerson purses his lips with frustration. “You didn’t even let me pitch it to you. Imagine this—a dolphin, sitting on the Statue of Liberty, with a bong in the shape of Pingu.”
We crack up at the same time.
“I can’t take credit for that,” Emerson admits. “Jared’s brother got too trashed one night and got it done. And yeah, it’s just as ugly as it sounds.”
“Jared?” I say.
“A friend,” he says, scanning the crowd. “Pretty sure he’s off with some girl who works here, though. Kept trying to convince me to come along, that she had a sister or something.”
I step back, sweeping my hand off. “Well. Don’t let me stop you.”
Something flickers in his eyes. Not hurt, but not indifference, either. “You’re not.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
I glance Josie’s way again. She’s laughing her head off at something he said while he’s giving her what looks like a rose he got from somewhere?
Jesus.
At this rate, she’s going to be having her own wedding by the end of the night.
“You’re just the same, you know that?” Emerson says.
And suddenly, I remember what an idiot I’m being.
Maybe it’s how buzzed I am or maybe it’s how Sierra’s ‘truce’ in my head makes it almost okay.
But I’m actually starting to be stupid enough to enjoy myself with him. And I may be stupid, but I’m not stupid enough to think that it would be anything but a bad idea.
“I should go,” I say, already heading off.
“Hold on,” Emerson says. “Maybe I shouldn’t have—”
“No.” I pause to look at him hard. “You shouldn’t have. You don’t know me anymore.”
And as I walk off, it’s with the satisfaction of knowing that as little as I might have changed in some ways, the old me would have stayed.
Chapter 4
Emerson
When I was under twenty, I’d never get hangovers.
I could glug down a third of a keg, guzzle so many cocktails I lost track, hell, race an equally drunken university linebacker and run smack into a stop sign, and come the next morning, I’d wake up as fresh as a babe.
Maybe that’s why I have these habits. These old habits die hard.
I don’t remember much about last night, but what I do remember after Wynona left involves a lot of drinks. A lot of drinks. Good thing Nolan turned in fairly early because he would’ve scolded me like Grandma Josephine back when she was in scolding condition.
I prop myself half-up, wincing.
Arôme de booze... is that really me? Fuck’s sake, I’m cradling a bottle of tequila.
I push it away with a glare like it’s to blame. Although, in a very legitimate way, it is.
It’s official. I’ve got a splinter in my brain. What else could produce a headache so splitting?
These sheets may be Egyptian cotton as they claim—why do I know that?—but that doesn’t stop them from being dirty. Almost like someone...
Why am I wearing my shoes in bed?
I sink back into the memory foam pillow, letting my eyes close.
I’d better see what pieces I can wrestle out of my memory bank before I venture out into the real world.
Okay, so there’s Wynona not talking to me, which blew. Wynona talking to me, which was awesome. But then...
Fuck. I screwed up somehow.
She left.
More drinks egged the night on faster. I’m dancing. Jared’s back with his girl.
A black blur tilts, and then I’m in my room, this room, chasing away some other girl. Who knows why?
Another black blur, and I’m on the beach alone, water up to my heels. Blur—my phone’s going off—blur—and then—
I force myself half-upright again. Looks like that’s as good as it’s going to get, barring some wildcard memory of Wynona coming back.
More like a complete impossibility.
My cock twitches.
I glare at it.
Really? Semi-hard just from a stray thought of her?
My scowl deepens, but my erection doesn’t go anywhere.
“Fuck it, might as well,” I growl, grabbing it.
I close my eyes and let myself imagine how last night should’ve gone.
How she should’ve stayed and looked at me like she used to.
The intensity in those blue eyes I’ve never seemed to find anywhere else.
We would find our way onto the dance floor, into each other’s arms. She’d fit in mine as perfectly as I remember.
Our bodies would move together, groove closer as seamlessly as two halves of a zipper. We’d get all tangled up.
Our mouths would find each other. Our tongues would play along.
I’d make caressing that tight body of hers into a dance move. She’d turn around and brush my cock with her ass as if it were just another move. As if she wasn’t thinking, just then, exactly the same thing that I was.