Carrie
Present Day
“Bitch doesn’t belong here if she can’t understand why Gerard is so important to me!”
Joe’s date had just stormed out of my apartment, and I was honestly a little surprised she did it with all of her hair in tact with how angry Stacy was. She didn’t escape unscathed, though. Blondie McBigBoobs would have a dildo shaped bruise on her face for a few days.
“Stacy,” I said calmly, placing a hand on her shoulder. When I had her full attention, I spoke slowly to make sure she understood. “If you ever get in my cabinet and steal one of my dildos again, I will stab your tit while you sleep. Furthermore, you will be replacing both dildos - the one you took, and the one you just threw at Joe’s girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Joe chimed in. I was tempted to turn around just so he could see me roll my eyes, but Stacy was facing him and did it for me.
“Why do I have to buy you two dildos? What’s wrong with this one?” Stacy bent down to pick up the light-up pink vibrator I hadn’t even had a chance to use. She pressed the power button and it started twisting and turning, which now that I really looked at it, seemed like it might actually kinda hurt.
I made a disgusted face at her when she tried to hand it to me. “I’m not sticking that in my bat cave when it’s been manhandled by someone else’s hands, hit Joe’s skank girlfriend - who probably has a long list of STD’s - in the face, and then rolled around on my floor.”
“She’s not my girl-”
“Make Joe replace it! He’s the one who brought his slut girlfriend without telling anyone. I wouldn’t have had to throw it at her if she wasn’t such a dumb twat, so really, it’s all Joe’s fault.”
Everyone, myself included, turned to look at Joe who was standing with his hands up in the air and his mouth gaping open. “Hey, don’t blame Stacy’s unique brand of crazy on me. No one deserves to have a dildo thrown at them, so that’s on Stacy.”
A bright pink blur flew past the side of my head and landed squarely in the middle of Joe’s face. “Fuck, Stacy!” Joe’s hands flew to his face, covering his nose and muffling his voice. “What the hell did you do that for!?”
“Because you’re wrong. Some people do deserve to have dildos thrown at them. At this moment, you were one of them. Seeing as how I had a dildo handy, I figured it prudent to chuck it at your dumbass face.”
Stacy stormed out of my apartment, Chad hot on her heels. It wasn’t uncharacteristic of her to get ridiculously, over-the-top dramatic about things, but she actually seemed mad. When five minutes passed and neither of them returned, the silence in my apartment grew quiet. None of us understood what had just happened, and we were all a little too stunned to speak.
“Can somebody get me some fucking ice for my nose or something?!”
I hopped into action, grabbing a bag of frozen peas from my freezer. It had been in there God knows how long, but I didn’t think it mattered if vegetables were expired when it came to icing an injury so I handed them over. Joe winced when the bag touched his face, and I winced right along with him when I saw the swelling at the bridge of his nose.
“Well, I’d love to stick around and endure some more weird shit, but I think Adalyn and I are going to head out.” My brother, Ian, leaned down to give me a quick kiss on the cheek before slipping his arm around Adalyn’s waist. “Thanks for dinner, sis. Our place next time.”
They tossed out quick goodbyes to Joe, which he returned with a grunt. Once the door was closed behind them I plopped down right next to Joe.
“Suck it up, buttercup. You’re a cop. I think you can handle a little bump on your nose.”
Joe glared at me over the bag of peas still pressed firmly against his face. I didn’t even try not to laugh, because that shit was funny.
“Okay, pretty boy. Let me take a look.” He let out a low, annoyed growl, but I just rolled my eyes and pulled the peas away. “The swelling is already going down. I doubt you’ll have much more than a little bruising.” I lightly brushed my fingertip across his nose, pulling away when he winced. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. My pride is hurt more than my face. I’ve had a lot of injuries in my life, even some pretty strange ones, but this has to be the most embarrassing one. The guys at the station are going to give me so much shit about this.”
“So don’t tell them,” I offer with a shrug. It’s ridiculous advice really. Knowing Stacy, she’s already sent out a group text from Chad’s phone with a detailed review of what happened. We both laugh spontaneously, undoubtedly thinking the same exact thing. Once the laughing dies off, a comfortable silence spreads between us.
Ironically enough, being ‘comfortable’ around him makes me uncomfortable. Every interaction between us up to that point had been laced with tension, which ended with us fighting or kissing.
Shit.
Thinking about the last time we kissed while he’s sitting inches away from me on my couch was a horrible idea. I didn’t know if the change in the atmosphere was all in my head, or if Joe noticed the room suddenly heat up and the air thicken to an unbearable point. Really, I had no clue what was going on in his head, and I was too chickenshit to look at him to find out.
I stood up, needing to put space between us, trying to figure out a polite way to get him the hell out of my apartment so I could breath again. Being polite wasn’t my forte, and I needed something to do while I came up with a strategy to get him out without coming across as a bitch, so I headed to the kitchen to start picking up.
Leaving the room silently was probably weird, but I couldn’t not be weird right then if my life depended on it, so I focused on gathering all the plates on the table. I didn’t even notice Joe had walked in until I heard the kitchen faucet turn on. It startled me so much that I dropped a plate. I dropped down to my knees and started picking up the pieces scattered all over the floor, but I’d only managed to grab a couple before I went airborne.
“What the hell are you doing? Put me down!”
Joe had me gripped under my arms from my behind as he walked a few steps before plopping me down on a chair.
“You made dinner, I’ll get the mess. You have a dress on, you don’t need to be on your knees picking up sharp pieces of porcelain.”
He was being all police man-y with his brusque tone and puffed out chest. It had me equal parts intimidated and turned on, my body completely on edge the entire time I watched him grab a clean wine glass from a cabinet and fill it with Moscato. I downed it in one drink and swiped my upper lip with my hand in the most un-ladylike fashion imaginable. Joe quickly refilled it, and I took an appropriate sip that time.
Once he accepted that I wasn’t going to argue or throw something at him, he checked a few places before opening the door to my utility closet and pulling out a broom and dustpan. I sat quietly while he searched for soap and other things, never once asking me where to find something. The need to just get up and do everything myself had me twitching in my seat, but every time he opened a cabinet he looked over at me, like he was just waiting for me to react.
I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. It felt like a lose-lose situation, but at least the option of just sitting on my ass meant I got to sit on my ass.
I finished off another glass of Moscato, and he was refilling it before I could even reach for the bottle. Our silent exchanges continued until the kitchen was spotless and I was decently buzzed. Joe put away the last dish and tossed the dishrag over his shoulder, and the entire scene was so domestic. So normal. It had me wanting things I had no business wanting, just like every other time I was around Joe.
Shit.
~
Several months before the aptly named “Dildo Debacle”...
“You’re killing me with that outfit, Care. Did you actually buy that at a store, or did you just dig it out of the back of some old grandma’s closet? I bet if I sniff you right now you’ll smell like moth balls.”
Stacy has been my best friend since we were just out of diapers, and giving me crap about my choice in clothing was nothing new, so I didn’t even bother responding or trying to defend myself. She knew why I dressed this way, and while she understood my reasons for the most part, it didn’t keep her from ragging on me every chance she got.
“I love you, Carrie, I really do, but you make the worst wingman ever,” Stacy complained as we walked into the crowded bar. “You do know we’re here to see a band and hang out, not have a PTO meeting, right?”
I glanced down at my clothes, and looked back at her. I wasn’t dressed any more conservatively than normal, and I thought I looked cute in a sophisticated, librarian kind of way. I mean, yeah, I wasn’t sporting hooker heels and a mini skirt like Stacy, but it wasn’t like I was wearing a moo-moo, either.
Admittedly, my black slacks, sensible heels and light pink cardigan that was layered over a cream colored lacy tank did make me look more suited to be attending a business meeting than a night out with my girlfriend, but I was comfortable and that’s really all that mattered to me. I had been tempted to wear a string of pearls just to piss Stacy off, but I didn’t really want to spend the entire night being subjected to her sarcastic jabs towards my wardrobe.
I wore the same amount of makeup I usually did, which was just a light layer of mascara and a pink gloss, but it still brightened my face enough to give me less of a ‘walking corpse’ look. I usually kept my long, auburn hair straight and sleek, and tonight was no different. I pulled it into a neat ponytail that tied at the base of my hairline and hung down past the middle of my back.
I wouldn’t be turning any heads, that was for sure, but that had never been my priority. Truth be told, if it were my choice, I’d be sitting at home having a Criminal Minds marathon while binging on trail mix. Not technically junk food, but it had chocolate, and it was the worst I’d allow myself to eat when it came to cheating on my diet.
I was only out with Stacy because I hadn’t seen her in forever, and I was curious to meet this Joe guy she’d been spending so much of her time with. From the way she’d described him, he sounded delicious enough to eat, but she swore emphatically that there was nothing other than friendship between them. That alone was enough to pique my curiosity, but I sensed there was more going on than she was letting on. And since she was being so tight lipped with all the details, that meant I’d have to find out on my own.
Stacy had talked to me about Chad, and having known Stacy my entire life, I knew tonight was only going to add to the shit storm happening between the two of them. He was a police officer who had arrested her not long ago for public intoxication, which is how she met Joe, who was Chad’s partner.
From what I’d heard, it sounded like Stacy had met her match in Chad, and they were both too stubborn to admit they liked each other. I was even a little excited to finally get to witness one of their infamous pissing matches in person. Of course, I’d only heard the stories from her perspective and Stacy had a tendency to seriously exaggerate, so who knew how the night would go.
I knew the moment Stacy spotted Chad after we walked through the door. Her entire body tensed as she stopped dead in her tracks. What I hadn’t expected was how cordial her and Chad were acting towards each other after she made her way over to him and introduced me. He spared all of two seconds of his attention in my direction, before turning it right back on Stacy. I had to bite back the smile that tugged at my lips from watching how adorably obvious it was that they were attracted to each other, despite how hard they were trying to hide it.
Chad was exactly as I’d pictured him. Stacy had been extremely accurate with her depiction of him. He was every bit the stereotypical hardass cop, if you were going based on looks alone. His shoulders were broad and his biceps large enough that I probably couldn’t fit my hands around them. He wasn’t in uniform or anything, but he looked so much the part that there was probably no way he’d ever be able to do undercover work. Everything about him screamed law enforcement.
Stacy and Chad chatted briefly, then she and I made our way to another part of the bar while Chad went to retrieve the mysterious Joe. I was racking up the balls at a pool table when a deep voice carried through the room, cracking a joke about being careful with his balls. I looked up to see a gorgeous face smirking at Stacy, and considering he was standing next to Chad, I deduced that the face belonged to Joe.
Joe gave me a once over that, if possible, was even shorter than the one Chad gave me. I observed the three of them bantering back and forth, trying my best to focus on the pool table. Stacy never bothered introducing me to Joe, and admittedly, I thought Joe was a little rude for not taking it upon himself to try and speak to me. If he was truly as close to Stacy as she made it seem, then you’d think he would try a little harder to get to know me.
All I really knew of Joe, other than how much Stacy adored him, was that he was a bit of a slut. Two seconds in the same room with him and it was easily understandable based on his good looks and the obvious charm. Of course, he didn’t bother to waste any of that charm on little old me, which was perfectly fine with me.
I didn’t doubt for a second that women threw themselves at him everywhere he went, and maybe he had expected me to do the same, but hell would freeze over before that would happen. As little respect as I had for men who couldn’t keep their dick in their pants, he was young and single and really, what red blooded male wouldn’t sample the varieties as much as possible? Just because I would never be one of the women throwing myself at him didn’t mean I couldn’t understand where they were coming from. If it weren’t for my rules, then Joe would definitely be the type of man I would enjoy a roll in the sack with.
The next couple hours were enjoyable, despite how often it felt as if all three of them forgot I was even there. Every time I would chime in with a joke or comment, they would all turn and give me a surprised look, like they wondered where the hell the strange voice was coming from. This type of situation wasn’t uncommon, especially when I went anywhere with Stacy. She commanded the attention of everyone around her, while I preferred to be standing on the sidelines, enjoying the show.
I wasn’t anti-social, I just wasn’t over-the-top, in-your-face outgoing like Stacy. If I wanted anyone to focus their attention on me, I’d have to fight for it around her, so it was a good thing I never really cared either way. I got all the attention I needed when I was on stage and the spotlight was on me. I’d been dancing my whole life, and nothing compared to those moments of soul-baring vulnerability when all eyes were on me, watching as I offered up a piece of myself each and every time I took the stage.
When we tired of our game, we took seats at a table, and Chad and Joe finally seemed to acknowledge that there was a fourth to their group. Chad tried to engage me in conversation, but I was there to find out information, not provide it, so I was always quick to steer the topic back to the other people at the table. Stacy and Chad eventually broke off and left me alone at the table with Joe, where we sat for several minutes in uncomfortable silence.
Joe was picking at the label on his beer bottle, fidgeting and acting like he was nervous. I chuckled quietly to myself, wondering what the hell he was nervous about. I had been all but invisible to him all night long, and he didn’t seem the type to get nervous talking to anyone. I looked at him more closely and realized he wasn’t nervous; he was just uncomfortable. He was trying to focus on his beer, but his eyes kept darting up to the other women around us. Each and every one of them would wink at him, not even subtly, apparently assuming that I was not his date. Or maybe they just didn’t care.
“Don’t let me keep you if you’d like to go socialize. I’ll be fine here,” I spoke up, breaking the silence. His head whipped to face me, guilt written all over his face. Did he think this was some kind of double date? God, I hoped not. Surely Stacy wouldn’t give him that impression. I smiled sweetly at him, wanting to ease his mind, only it must have had the opposite effect because his frown deepened.
“No, I’m cool,” he replied, clearing his throat. He averted his eyes, but kept his head pointed towards mine, and I took a good look at his face for the first time. He was what most would call a ‘pretty boy.’ He had a youthfulness to his features, with his dark hair just a little too long and his full lips a light shade of pink, as if he’d just spent the last hour making out on a couch in his mom’s basement.
He wore a tight white cotton polo that fit snuggly, showing off his arms that were toned in the way you would expect a runner or swimmer’s to be. A broad chest tapered down to a slim torso, leading down to his well fitted jeans, which I couldn’t see now, but had gotten a good view of when we were all playing pool.
I would have bet money that his ass was tight and delicious enough to take a bite out of. Not that I would ever be doing the biting, but my active imagination was thankful for the mental images being conjured up as I continued to take in Joe’s appearance.
Joe cleared his throat suddenly, and I blushed when I realized I’d been caught staring. His innocent smirk told me he didn’t mind being ogled, so I did one more obvious once over, just for good measure. I didn’t want him to think I was too intimidated or embarrassed to be able to appreciate a beautiful man when he was sitting right next to me. Much to my surprise, though, the way his lips twitched up on one side into a sly grin made my stomach stir more than the visions of him naked I’d just been having.
When I finally tore my eyes away from his mouth and back up, we sat for several seconds in some sort of stare down. It was bizarre and made me want to shift in my seat, but I fought the urge and held my ground. I cocked my head to the side and narrowed my gaze at him curiously, which resulted in a chuckle from Joe, who ended up being the one to tear his eyes away.
Joe went to speak, but someone shouting his name from across the room drew his attention away, and he excused himself to go speak with someone standing on the dance floor. I wasn’t sure where the relief came from when I noticed the person he was speaking with was a man, but I pushed that aside and looked around, realizing Stacy had disappeared.
I stood up to go looking for her, and after one lap around the outside perimeter of the bar, I spotted her on the dance floor. I looked over just in time to see some guy take a swing at Chad, and the next several minutes passed by in a crazy blur. I wasn’t sure how I even managed to make my way back over to the pool table, but once I was a safe distance away, I turned back to see Joe inserting himself into the middle of a fist fight.
Joe said something that seemed to calm Chad down, and the bouncer escorted the other guy out of the bar. Chad didn’t have a mark on him, and I was itching to know the details of what would cause that kind of outburst.
I saw Stacy head towards the back patio, and I started to follow her, but someone standing just a few feet away stopped me dead in my tracks. When his eyes met mine, feelings of betrayal and humiliation hit me hard enough to choke the life out of me.
He took a step in my direction, so I turned quickly on my heel and bolted through the crowd to the bar. I needed a drink, and I needed it stat if I was going to survive being in the same place as Brad for very long.
I threw back four shots in quick succession, and they went down my throat and hit my empty stomach before I even had a chance to taste them. I wiped my upper lip with my index finger and spun around, discreetly scanning the room for Brad. Not because I wanted to see him, but because I wanted to avoid him.
I spotted him in a corner, talking to a beautiful girl, and she was laughing at something he said and flirtatiously touching his arm. He smiled back at her, and even though it was quick, I saw his eyes dart over to me briefly. With the alcohol slowly seeping into my system, my pain quickly turned to anger, and I pushed away from the bar and moved towards the dance floor.
A new song started, and my hips started to sway to the music when a hand snaked around my stomach and pulled me backwards. I expected to be pulled into a hard body, assuming a man was just wanting to dance with me, so I didn’t resist. Problem with that was, no one was waiting to catch me, and I stumbled.
The hand moved from my waist to my elbow, and that’s when I noticed it was Joe, and he was pulling me towards the exit.
“Hey, hey, hey. Where do you think you’re going?” I yelled over the loud music.
“Stacy left. She asked me to get you home,” he responded, not bothering to look back at me as he continued pulling me towards the door.
“Well too damn bad for Stacy, because I’m not ready to leave and I don’t need a babysitter. I’m a grown ass woman and I’m capable of calling myself a freaking cab.”
I stumbled again, only that time it was lack of coordination causing my clumsiness. Damn alcohol. Hopefully Brad wasn’t witnessing this.
Pfffft. Who the hell cared?
I danced through several songs, my arms raised and my eyes closed, and I just assumed Joe had left since he hadn’t tried to drag me out of the bar again like a caveman. When I started to sweat, I ripped off my cardigan, earning a few catcalls. The lacey tank underneath was pretty transparent, and everyone was given a good glimpse of my black, lacy push-up bra.
Downfall to being a dancer - my big boobs. I mean, they were nice boobs, filling a D-cup quite nicely. But dancers weren’t supposed to have curves, and there were many times growing up when I had to actually duct tape my boobs to my chest to make them look smaller. The only part of my body that hadn’t suffered while I was watching my weight all these years was my chest, which meant I had zero curves. That’s great and all if you’re a principal dancer in a ballet, but not so much if you were just a normal girl wanting to feel sexy.
I twirled my cardigan over my head like a lasso and tossed it into the crowd, and the response I got was heady. It was surely the alcohol, but I didn’t care. I needed to feel good about myself, which I never did when Brad was around, so any positive attention I could get I would take it.
A petite brunette came over to me and started dancing, and when I put my knee between her thighs and started rolling my hips, the men around us went wild. I hit my limit when she tried to shove her tongue down my throat, but she didn’t get offended when I pulled away. Instead, she took my hand and led me over to a table, where she climbed onto a chair, pulling me up with her.
We stood on the table, shaking our asses for a few songs. She was wearing a skirt so short that it covered absolutely nothing, giving everyone in the bar a good look at what she was wearing underneath. Which was nothing, by the way.
I felt my body start to overheat, and I knew I needed to sit down or drink some water, or both, but I wasn’t ready to stop dancing. So instead I kicked off my shoes, dancing barefoot on the table, and pulled my hair up higher into a messy bun. My skin was slick with sweat, and I seductively ran my hand down my neck, over my chest and down my stomach.
I bent my knees and crouched, rolling my hips and sticking my ass out on the way back up. I opened my eyes long enough to regret it, because the first thing I saw was Brad. And he. looked. pissed.
Well, fuck him! I knew I was acting completely out of character. I knew everyone in the bar tonight thought I was some kind of attention-seeking whore and most likely an easy lay, but that’s Brad’s way of thinking. Not mine. He was always such a judgmental ass, and I’d be damned if I let him continue ruining my life.
After I closed my eyes again, I felt myself being lifted and thrown over someone’s shoulder. Before I could even find out whose shoulder I was on, I was being ripped off of it and pulled back into another body. I was the little metal ball in the middle of a real life version of pinball.
“What the hell, man? Back off. C’mon Carrie, I’m getting you out of here.”
“Fuck you, Brad!” I shouted, wiggling and jerking my body. I knew it was Joe’s arms around me, and while he smelled and felt amazing, all I wanted was to lunge at Brad and scratch his eyeballs out. My efforts were futile, but I kept fighting with everything I had to try and squirm out of Joe’s hold. I probably looked, and sounded, like a drowning cat with all the shrieking and my sweaty, disheveled state. No fucks did I give in that moment.
Brad’s head jerked back in surprise. “What’s happened to you, Carrie? This isn’t you. You’re going to regret this tomorrow. Just let me take you home.” He sounded genuine and looked concerned, but the asshole was really good at playing the part when necessary and I wasn’t buying it.
Instead of continuing to argue with him, I turned around in Joe’s arms and snaked my hands behind his neck, pulling his mouth down to mine roughly. I was angry and wanted to hurt Brad, and it was shitty of me to use Joe like I was, so I started to pull back when I felt Joe’s lips freeze against mine.
Only when I started to pull away, Joe’s hands moved from my back to my hips, pulling me closer to him. His lips started to move, and the kiss went from angry and reluctant to mind blowing. I don’t know how long we stood there, necking like a couple of horny teenagers, but I do know I never wanted to stop.
I’d never been kissed like that. It was sensual and toe curling, and when his tongue darted out against my lips, seeking entrance, I happily acquiesced. If it were possible to have an orgasm from kissing alone, then I would have right then. I swear, it was like my whole body lit on fire. I was so desperate to have more of him, feel his hands all over my body, and I didn’t care that we were in the middle of a crowded bar.
My hands roamed eagerly all over his body, groping and scratching every available inch. My libido was possessed and my body reacted accordingly. Any other moment I would have been horrified at my actions, but the way Joe’s mouth tasted lightly of beer and peppermint was intoxicating. I felt completely out of control, but instead of it being terrifying, it felt freeing.
If Joe hadn’t broken the kiss and pulled away when he did, then I have no doubt I would have started tearing at his clothes.
Brad cleared his throat behind us, but my glassy eyes were too entranced by Joe’s darkened stare to turn around. When he cleared his throat again, Joe tore his eyes from mine and narrowed them at Brad.
“I can get her home,” Joe said sternly. It wasn’t an offer; it was a command. I was still locked on Joe’s face, so I didn’t miss the tick of his jaw when Brad spoke up.
“Not necessary. Carrie is my responsibility; I’ll be the one taking her home.”
It was loud in the bar and I was more than a little drunk, so I could have imagined it, but I swear Joe growled when Brad grabbed my elbow. Joe put a possessive arm around my waist and pulled me further away from Brad. Hard. I felt like a rag doll, being jerked back and forth while they had their little pissing contest. Normally having two men fight over who got to boss me around would annoy the piss out of me, but I could feel Joe’s abs through his shirt, so all usual reasoning flew right out the window.
It clicked in my head exactly what they were fighting over, and there was no way in hell I was leaving with Brad. I didn’t really want to leave with Joe either, or at least I didn’t want to want to leave with Joe, and I knew when to admit defeat. It was my own damn fault for drinking too much when I knew I couldn’t tolerate it, anyway.
Not wanting their arguing to continue, I slipped my hand into Joe’s and started towards the exit without sparing Brad so much as a backwards glance. When the chilly night air hit my hot and sweaty skin, my body shivered hard enough to rattle me. The alcohol sitting in my empty stomach churned, and the nausea had reality reentering my addled brain.
It was like I’d been in a trance for the last half hour, and I yanked my hand from Joe’s. I did it because I needed to cover my mouth, a subconscious effort in trying to hold back the vomit, but I didn’t miss the dirty look he gave me when I pulled away. Part of me wanted to reassure him I wasn’t being rude, another part of me wanted to tell him to get over himself, but the drunk part of me told the other parts of me to shut up and focus on not retching on the sidewalk.
I kept my mouth clamped shut all the way to Joe’s truck. It wasn’t until I was standing next to it that I felt brave enough to speak without fear of throwing up on him.
“Why did Stacy leave?”
“Hell if I know,” Joe said, sounding frustrated, as he tried to reach around me for the handle to the passenger side door. I stepped to the side, blocking him, and tried to figure out why he sounded so damn snippy. Did he not feel the electricity between us like I did when we were kissing? Was my ability to interpret the situation too distorted because of the alcohol and stress of seeing my ex?
He mimicked my stance, crossing his own arms, and stared me down. I couldn’t tell if it was challenge in his eyes or annoyance. Was he angry that I kissed him? I had no idea what the hell was going through his head, and I wanted to flick his forehead and tell him to stop acting like a child. All I actually did was hiccup and sway.
He rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath about me not being able to hold my liquor, then gripped my elbow to steady me while trying to pull open the door. Him standing so close to me reminded me of just how much his kiss had affected me just minutes ago, and the thought of being alone with him, especially this pissy and asshole version of him, made the bile rise back up in my throat.
I made a feeble attempt to push away from him, and summoned my inner bitch.
“I’m a big girl, I can find my own way home. I’ll just call a cab, no reason for you to leave on my account.” My little argument would have been much more effective without all the hiccups, but when he let go of my arm I considered it a win. I started to walk back towards the bar, but Joe only let me make it about five steps before he grabbed my elbow again and spun me back around. I looked down to where his hand was on me, and he tightened his grip.
“Sorry, no can do, half pint. I’ve been put in charge of getting you home safely, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. So be a doll and hop in the cab for me.” The charm I’d heard in his voice earlier when he’d spoken to people was there, but it sounded forced. Asshole. Even after that spectacular kiss he still acted like I wasn’t worth his time.
Joe opened the door to the truck, but I just stood there glaring at him. I didn’t expect for one second for him to view me as anything other than Stacy’s quiet and plain friend, but I did not appreciate him talking to me like I was a child. Granted, my behavior tonight had been far from mature, but who the hell was he to judge me based on his first time meeting me?
Instead of continuing to argue, I turned on my heel to leave. He still had a firm grip on my elbow, and when I felt my body jerk back and my feet kick out from under me, I yelped. I had about two seconds to digest the fact that I had apparently left my shoes in the bar before I was airborne, and before I knew what was happening, I was being deposited into the front seat of Joe’s truck. He even managed to buckle my seatbelt for me and make his way around to the driver’s side before I could get out a protest. My options at that point were jump out of a moving vehicle, or suck it up and let Joe take me home. Since I didn’t think ruining my career would be worth it just to get away from the bossy man next to me, I opted to stare out the window and sulk.
The only conversation that took place on the quick drive were my directing Joe where to go to find my place. I dozed off a time or two, Joe waking me once every few minutes for more directions. Once he pulled up to my building I debated thanking him for the ride, not wanting to be rude, but also still mad at him for forcing me into his truck to begin with. He saved me from having to decide by getting out and coming around to open my door and speaking first.
“Want me to walk you to your door?” There was a suggestive glint in his eyes. Was this asshole actually hitting on me? His personality shift was so quick it had my head spinning, and next thing I knew I was throwing up on the sidewalk.
Okay, maybe my head was spinning because of the shots I’d drank and not because of Mr. Hyde here, but still.
My hair was up so I didn’t need him to hold my hair back, not that he would have anyway. I stood up and cursed myself for my dizziness causing me to sway. Joe put an arm around my shoulder and my vomit breath had me feeling too self conscious to yell at him to get off, so I let him walk me to the front door of my building.
He opened the big glass door and stepped in behind me, and I had a momentary lapse in sanity where I thought he was trying to follow me to my apartment. My sober self would have known better than to assume he would flirt with me, even if I hadn’t just thrown up very close to his shoes. But I wasn’t my sober self. I was my drunken, stupid self, so I grabbed his hand and walked over to the security guard of my building who was stationed behind a shiny oak desk.
“Miss Drake, lovely to see you,” the old man said politely. I had no shoes on, vomit on my chin and I was a sweaty mess, but if he noticed he didn’t show it.
“Mr. Martins,” I started, taking a pause to hiccup. “This is Joe…” I trailed off realizing I didn’t know his last name. Joe started to speak up but I kept going. “Joe whats-his-face, and I want him put on my ‘never is he ever allowed in this building ever’ list.”
Mr. Martins’ eyes widened and Joe snickered behind me. “Um, I don’t think you have such a list.” I lifted my hand to wave dismissively, but Joe’s came with it, because while I was telling Mr. Martins to never let Joe in, I was apparently holding his hand. I quickly let go and shuffled away from him.
“Okay, well make one, and put him on the top. Always a pleasure, Mr. Martin,” I said with a shaky nod. Joe had moved to block my path to the elevators, and I tried to push past him. My shoulder bumped his, and while he stood firmly in place, it knocked me off balance just a little. My 5’2” and hundred and five-pound frame were no match for his very tall, muscular one. I heard him chuckle behind me as I found my balance, thankful to have my back to him so he couldn’t see the blush creeping up my neck as he yelled after me. “See you soon, half pint!”