Текст книги "Jerk"

Автор книги: Kat T. Masen

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

 

I spent the weekend in hangover hell, dressed permanently in my sweatpants that had a huge hole in the crotch which I only noticed after I came home from the grocery store. To make matters worse, I happened to be wearing my big-girl panties (often referred to as Aunt Flo’s couture) because I was fresh out of clean sexy ones and had zip all energy to go do laundry. They were unflattering, had some weird cat pattern on them, and I could have sworn the old man in the cereal aisle had spotted Kitty peeking out from the hole.

              Cats—it’s an omen.

When you spend most of the weekend making friends with the basin, you vow to never touch an ounce of alcohol again. This is why drinking and being single is a deadly combination. Tequila was to blame. It always is. Nothing ever good comes from doing tequila shots.

Friday night was a huge blur, but I knew one thing—I screwed the Jerk in the back of the alley.

My life is officially over.

There haven’t been many moments in my life where I prayed that a genie would appear and grant me three wishes, but right now I’m on my knees begging for a magical wish to erase what happened.

The details of our ‘fling’ are a little hazy, and when I say hazy I mean I don’t remember anything apart from him driving off on his motorbike, without finishing our rendezvous, and me vomiting like the exorcist with Vicky trying to salvage my hair.

When I spot the red mark on my neck, a memory of him biting my flesh like a deprived vampire flashes before me and I shrivel up in embarrassment. I have used almost a whole tube of toothpaste to keep the redness down. It takes me back to high school when I looked like a leper dating this jock, Calvin. I was forced to wear scarves during the summer and pulled it off as some new fashion trend. My mother was so gullible.

Vicky apologized a million times for having to visit her parents on Sunday, leaving me to fend for myself and come up with a solution. I figured I’d take the mature approach and ignore him. Then I realized that was not going to work and the only way to face my demons would be to confront him head on. I’d even gone to the lengths of preparing a speech. I had a plan of attack, and after my laundry was done, the old Presley was slowing making her way back from ‘girls gone wild vacation’; I couldn’t have felt more content.

God, I was so naïve and delusional!

This, in turn, caused a sleepless night and being overtired.

The next morning, I decide I need to burn that excess energy and pent-up frustration by doing some major cardio at the gym. Trina arrives with Sarah again, and with a quick smile, I pretend to be busy on the treadmill with my headphones, hoping to avoid a conversation. If she caught wind of this, I would seriously get my kitty kicked.

With my iPod on shuffle, I purposely skip past the ballads and settle for some heavy metal. Good ole’ Alice Cooper’s Poison floods my hearing and I push myself to ridiculous speeds, almost falling off the machine. Zoning out of my surroundings, the memory of the way he entered me and the way my body reacted comes back to me and a throb between my legs grows. For a split second I close my eyes, and it’s like a movie being replayed in my head. Bits and pieces, piercings…wait! Piercings??

“Hey Presley! You look lost with the fairies. Anything wrong?”

Trina is standing in front of my machine and it’s a given that I cannot avoid her.

“Just a lot on my mind, you know, work stuff,” I lie.

“I understand. So listen, about the other day. I’ve decided to speak to Haden one more time and if that’s it, well…you’re right, I have to let it go.”

His name alone causes my head to contract into a massive migraine.

“Are you sure, Trina? Jerks like him ain’t worth your time. Besides, you know Allan at the front desk? He asked me about you.”

Her eyes light up immediately. “Allan with the bulging arms?”

I nod. “Seems the shy type, maybe just ease yourself in with light conversation.”

She pats my shoulder, thanking me, and is already at the front desk by the time I have a chance to take a breath. I hate lying, but she’s so young and needs to stay away from the Jerk. Yeah, where was that rational thinking on Friday night?!

I wipe my face and step off the treadmill with unsteady legs, barely able to hold myself up. Leaning on the machine to catch my balance, I glance towards the exit and see the Jerk with Mr. Smokin’ Hot beside him. Oh fuck no, it’s a double whammy! There is only one exit, unless of course I exit via the fire door which in turn would raise an alarm and force everyone to look at me. I would make such a shit fugitive. I procrastinate way too much. Yeah, except for Friday night.

There you go again.

My brain is working a million miles a minute trying to think of every possible way to avoid him. I change my mind; I’m not mature and seeing his face makes me want to slap it repeatedly then shove it between my legs so Kitty could get her happy ending.

You did not just say that, brain! Get out of the gutter right now!

This reminds me of a recurring dream I have about being naked. Usually, I’m on my way to work riding the bus completely naked. No one is directly looking at me but for some reason I can’t find any clothes and nobody will lend me anything. It’s embarrassing, and leaves me feeling very exposed and ashamed. The similarities to that dream are uncanny. And even though I’m fully dressed, all eyes are on me, judging me on what happened with the Jerk. Or so I think.

Trina is busily flirting with Allan, Sarah is in the Zumba class eyeing the cute gay guy next to her, and so I am officially on my own without any friend to save me. Pulling my cell out of my pocket, I send an SOS text to Vicky.

At the gym. #CantHide #Jerk #HELP!

I wait impatiently, but she doesn’t respond and I am running out of time. The bathrooms are located beside where he is standing. He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I watch him from the corner of my eye.

He is laughing, and it’s only now that I notice he isn’t wearing his glasses. He looks completely different, dressed in black shorts with a tight grey tank top that shows off his biceps. Oh, wow.

Okay, pep talk time. Don’t you dare drool over a jerk that sweet talked you into the alley and left you high and dry—or more appropriately, low and wet. You didn’t finish college to end up following a guy like a pathetic puppy dog. Yes, he is extremely good-looking. Yes, his hair looks like it belongs in a shampoo commercial, and yes, maybe his body is as fucking irresistible as the new salted caramel sweets they keep showing on TV.

I don’t know whether I’m hungry, horny, or need to buy new shampoo. One thing’s for sure, Mr. Smokin’ Hot beside him is walking my way and….

“Hey, gorgeous girl from Friday night.”

His smile is endearing and shyness overcomes me. Perhaps being covered in sweat without any makeup is a surefire way to lower my confidence.

“Hey, gorgeous guy from Friday night,” I repeat back.

“So you train here?”

“I wouldn’t call it training. Just trying to let off some steam.”

“How have I not seen you here before?”

I shuffle awkwardly. “Okay, you busted me. Until last week, I was a gym virgin.”

He laughs softly. “I’m Marcus by the way.”

“Presley.” I extend my hand and he shakes it, lingering while he studies my face. His eyes are light green and brighten when he smiles. His dimples are set deep, and boy is he cute. His jet-black hair is short, recently grown out from what I assume was a shaved head. He is also wearing a tank, and I have to stop my hands from reaching out to squeeze his arms.

“So, you know Haden from work?”

I nod and see Haden talking to some chick at the front with his eyes directly on me. His stare is penetrating, piercing me like a superhero trying to destroy his enemy.

Suddenly I’m self-conscious. Then I realize I’m not the moron who left someone to die in a dark alley. Okay, maybe not die, but the Jerk infuriates me with his egotistical ‘I think I’m all that’ persona. Who the fuck leaves a girl mid-orgasm?! A jerk, that’s who.

“How do you know him?” I focus back onto Marcus.

“He’s my cousin. Our dads are brothers.” His tone softens, then, as if shaken, he smiles again and changes subjects.

Weird, but I don’t want to get into it. Cousins? Why is the universe punishing me?! Marcus is soooo yummy and he seems interested. What’s the worst that could happen?

“So, any chance of grabbing a bite to eat some time?” He smiles.

There go the dimples again. In some sort of trance, I try to string a sentence together.

“I’d like that.”

He passes me his phone and I store my number. We talk for a few more minutes before he tells me he needs to leave for work. Saying goodbye, I make my way over to the lockers and grab my stuff to head to the bathroom. Confident that I have avoided the Jerk this morning, I shower and dress, then leave the gym to head into the office.

It’s Monday, and I decide to drown myself in my work until our editors’ meeting in an hour. I don’t have anything to present today and am happy to listen to what other manuscripts will be put on the table. Dee is up front, and as everyone enters the room, I take a seat at the furthest spot from Haden.

From across the room he is staring at me again, making me feel even more self-conscious. Normally I would think I had spinach in my teeth or a milk mustache with this much attention. What I would give to have a milk mustache right now. He’s probably thinking about how you got down on your knees and sucked him off. Oh dear god, another new memory!

My cheeks flush instantly so I bow my head in order to avoid anyone noticing.

Dee commences her presentation, introducing a new erotic male-on-male romance. The heterosexual men in the room cringe. Clive, our resident fairy, is all over it.

“Totally love it, Dee. There’s a demand for gay romance. Women love it!” Clive claps his hands in utter delight.

“C’mon Clive. How could women love it?” the Jerk asks. “I won’t argue about demand—figures show there need to be more books in this genre—but I don’t get why women want to read about two guys dick-slapping each other.”

There are a few snickers (again from the men) but of course the Jerk starts a heated debate.

“Haden, get your pretty little head out of the lady garden. Women want to see lust, desire…. They want to see acts that are unattainable.”

Clive has a good point, but I don’t want to admit it out loud. Vicky once showed me some random clip of two guys and it was steamy, hot, and very taboo. There was something about it that intrigued me, not that I wanted to tell this to Jason at the time.

“Let the women in the room speak up, Clive,” the Jerk tells him.

There is a silence until I hear my name called. All eyes are on me and the Jerk—who once again has put me on the spot.

If he wants to play dirty, I am dressed in my bikini standing in the pit ready to rumble.

“Clive has a point. There’s something arousing about the image of two men. The sexual desire is, um…let’s say, raw and uninhibited. And homosexual men have very appealing bodies.”

He looks amused, leaning back into his chair like an arrogant prick. He is no longer wearing his gym outfit, and I try not to stare at how sexy he looks in his crisp white shirt that is rolled up at the sleeves. Honestly Presley, you need an MRI because your brain has officially lost the plot.

“You don’t think a man and a woman can have the same sexual desires towards each other?” he asks, mocking my point with a slight sneer.

“Probably. Depends if the guy’s a jerk or not,” I shoot back. “It all boils down to the build-up. From what Dee has summarized, the two men are sexually charged after years of denying their sexuality. Women love a good lead up—makes for a heated explosion. Excuse the pun.”

Everyone laughs and I find my confidence in the ultimate stare-off, not backing down. He doesn’t back off either until Dee moves on and the subject changes.

Focusing on a presentation proves difficult when you know someone is staring at you. Occasionally, I turn to look at Clive where he sits next to Haden, and my heart skips a beat when the Jerk’s eyes lock onto mine. If curiosity killed the cat, then Kitty is lying on a stretcher waiting for an ambulance to arrive.

After another hour spent talking about other projects, we filter out of the room. Clive has not stopped talking, having only just returned from a European vacation.

“We haven’t done lunch in ages. You free today, Pres?”

“Sure Clive. Plus we need to catch up on your vacay.”

He flashes me a wink and starts to ramble on about some Contiki tour until the Jerk interrupts us.

“Can I please speak to you?” His tone is demanding enough that even Clive raises his eyebrows.

Great, just fucking great. I knew there was no way to avoid it. I tell Clive I’ll catch up with him at lunch and wait till everyone leaves the room.

“What?” I finally say.

“What? Is this the game we’re playing?” he asks, extremely frustrated, running his hand through his hair again.

Don’t look at his hair. Repeat. Do not look at his hair.

“Ignorance is bliss. What else do you want me to say?”

“You don’t want to do the girl thing, drag what happened out, and talk about emotions and bullshit?”

“Nope. I’d rather not.”

My choice to remain tight-lipped is increasing his anger, and I’m getting off on it.

“I don’t get you. You had no problem talking about your ex.” The way he says the word “ex” sounds like he’s swallowing poison.

“Well, I am done talking.”

His eyes are focused in on my lips. I sense he is biting his tongue and in a matter of seconds he will explode.

“Why were you talking to Marcus?”

“Your cousin? Because it’s polite when someone introduces himself.” I almost laugh at the question.

“Is something going on between you two?

“It’s none of your business, Jerk. You keep reminding me I have an ex, which makes me single, right? So the last time I checked, I’m not bound to anyone.”

“So that’s it? You don’t want anything more to do with me?”

“That’s it,” I repeat, staring him directly in the eyes.

“You’re fine to sweep this under the rug and forget that it ever happened?”

“Consider it swept, vacuumed, and in the trash taken away. Are we done now?”

“Apparently so.”

Lunch with Clive couldn’t have rolled around fast enough. Haden had gone back to his desk and I was happy to put my head down and forget about our argument. Except, I couldn’t. Why was he so interested in my conversation with Marcus? He acted almost—don’t say it, Presley—jealous.

Okay, rewind. Haden had never shown interest in me prior to Friday night. He had been working at the company for six months now and apart from the annoying pranks, not once did he show any interest in my personal life including my dating status.

The same goes for me. All I knew was that he was a man-whore who somehow attracted women into his man-whore lair where he screwed them without a name to the face. I never really took the time to notice him, being so caught up in my work and relationship with Jason.

I’m fairly certain I’m overthinking things. He made it clear that we were to forget Friday night happened. Surely he was happy-dancing deep down inside that I wasn’t calling and telling him that I loved him.

And with all that said and done, it’s evident that we both made a huge error in judgment. A mistake never to be repeated, and therefore we move on because it’s all in the past.

Clive takes my mind off things at lunch, reenacting every scenario from his almost Lampoon European Vacation. All he was missing was Clark Griswold and a redhead named Rusty. We are sitting in a nearby café, having just ordered, when Dee walks in. She spots us immediately, and without using her manners and asking politely, takes a seat in the empty chair at our table.

Dee is the kind of woman that keeps the cosmetic industry booming. Her bleached blonde hair against her fake spray-on tan does nothing for her. She reminds me a lot of a Playboy bunny (an extremely flat-chested one). Beneath the layers of makeup she wears is no doubt a pretty woman. If only she didn’t make herself look like a Barbie doll.

“Your pitch was a winner. I think you’ve got that one in the bag,” Clive tells her with a mouthful of salad.

“Haden raised some good points though,” she mumbles, a little disheartened.

“He has no clue, Dee,” I remind her.

“I think he does. No offense, Clive, but women don’t want to read about men getting hot and heavy. They want alpha billionaires breaking their virginity.”

“Why are you letting him sway you? Yeah, I get that you’re sleeping with him, but honestly Dee, grow some balls.”

Shit, did I say that out loud?

“What? First of all, Presley, I haven’t slept with him. Fooled around, yes. Second of all, I’ve got balls! Or whatever…” she snarls.

“Ooh, catty.” Clive raises his hand and makes a claw.

“I’m sorry, Dee. I shouldn’t have assumed that because I see the both of you tongue-wrestling at every opportunity, you have actually slept together.”

My tone is off. Snarky. Catty, as Clive just put it. Gee, someone would think I was jealous. Again with that word.

“Everything but.” She winks this time.

“Ooh a wink? Do tell!” Clive’s enthusiasm prompts Dee to fess up.

“He’s pierced.”

I choke on the cherry tomato that I’m swallowing that instant. Clive is patting me on the back repeatedly as I try to calm myself down, gulping a whole heap of water.

“You alright there, cowgirl?” Clive asks.

I nod, bright red with embarrassment.

“I know, it’s taboo right? I mean it’s pierced right on the tip. I can’t wait to see what it feels like inside.”

Clive laughs. “Why don’t you just tell him you want to do the horizontal tango?”

“Because Clive, I have and he says soon. Lord knows what he is waiting for. We’ve kinda been fooling around for weeks.”

I’m not a gossiper, but I am desperate to get answers, so I bring it up. “What about Trina?”

“The chick that cried after they had sex? Apparently he was off his face that night. They were flirting for weeks.”

What the hell did this all mean? He flirts with Trina then fucks her when drunk or drugged. He hasn’t sealed the deal with Dee, but he screws me in the alleyway without any thought.

Do not read any more into this. It means nothing and even if it was something, you don’t think of him that way. It was a just a mistake. A big fat huge mistake that should be listed in the Guinness Book of Records as the worst mistake ever.

My thoughts are like poison, slowing seeping through my veins until I am consumed wholly by thoughts of the evil one. I need to stop this madness now. With Clive and Dee busily discussing genital piercings, I take out my cell and find Marcus’s number. I am straight to the point, asking him to meet up for lunch tomorrow. He responds immediately, naming a place and time.

Whatever Haden’s problem with Marcus and me being friends, he will have to overcome it. A week into being single and already there’s drama. This is not what I had in mind when I broke up with Jason.

Marcus is sweet, friendly, and hopefully drama-free. And to top it off, it feels good to sweep Friday night’s regrets under the rug. Just like I had said—swept, vacuumed, and in the trash the Jerk goes.

 

The next day, Marcus shows up at the office, midday on the dot. Since the last time I saw him (just short of twenty-four hours ago) I had forgotten how good-looking he is. Wearing a black-striped business shirt paired with charcoal pants, his tattooed arms are completely covered and one would think he was some corporate mogul.

But I know how deliciously dangerous he is underneath.

He sits casually on my desk, and we briefly chat while I gather my purse, ready to head out for lunch. In such close proximity, my senses have picked up that he is wearing the same cologne Jason once wore. I’m trying my damn hardest to remember my reasons for wanting more than Jason, scared to admit even to myself that it may have been a huge mistake on my behalf. Yes, I got that all from a bottle of Hugo Boss.

I stand up, straightening my dress, when the Jerk invades my cubicle. Today he chose not to wear a tie, exposing his smooth, tanned skin. Stop staring now; behave, Kitty!

“Fancy seeing you here, cousin.” Haden, has stretched his arms wide, blocking our exit.

“Well, if you see a gorgeous woman like Presley, you ask her out,” Marcus responds with a cocky grin.

The two of them watch each other intently, but I swear at this moment they are having a full-on conversation in their heads. I’m certain it involves boxing gloves and Brad Pitt standing in the corner of the ring saying “Welcome to Fight Club.”

Haden stands firmly with his arms crossed. “She just broke up with the love of her life.”

“Uh, wait a minute. Now you’ve got my back?” I laugh in his face, infuriating him even further.

Knowing that I am playing with fire (or Kitty’s selfish need to see the rainbow and get her happily ever after), I grab onto his forearm to move him out of the way. Ignore that it’s hard…his muscles…his muscles are hard! Jesus Presley, jump ship now. You’ve got two young guys in front of you and Kitty is having a nervous breakdown. Luckily, I am carrying my spare big-girl panties and just like Superman, I magically whisk them on and give it back to the Jerk.

“I believe Dee requires your attention.” Leaning in further, I whisper in his ear, “Not sure why you’re holding back from her since you had no problem unleashing on me.”

Pulling myself back, I hear his jaw literally drop to the ground. My work here is officially done. The look on his face is priceless and I have never felt so empowered.

Marcus grabs my hand and I allow him to do so, watching Haden divert his eyes from this intimate gesture. Against the partition, Haden’s knuckles are stark white as he restrains himself. I have no idea what his problem is, apart from the obvious male ego and pride bullshit.

I’m not a prize; this isn’t a competition.

We aren’t even dating, and we both agreed it was a ‘sweep it under the rug’ type of fuck.

Raising my head to meet his eyes, I give him my most evil grin. “See ya later. Jerk.”

Marcus and I sit in the booth near the entrance, lucky to get a seat at a popular diner. The burgers here are delish, and so is Marcus. I have no idea how old he is, and given that it’s rude to ask, I settle for assuming he’s in his twenties. God, when did I become such a cougar?! Guys in their twenties have this wicked aura around them. At least that’s what Vicky tells me. I can see it though. They seem to care a hell of a lot more about their appearance, obsessed with working on their physique. They tend to dress in all designer labels, and even when they are dressed down, they rock a pair of jeans and a tee like a model on a runway.

Then there’s the hair.

Marcus has beautiful jet-black hair.

Although it’s short, you can tell it’s silky smooth. If he grew it out, he would look like Cleopatra and I would happily feed him grapes from a golden plate.

While the waiter serves us our meals, my cell vibrates. Expecting a much needed text from Vicky, I’m surprised to see it’s from the Jerk instead, and immediately roll my eyes before even opening the message.

What do you mean unleash on you? Are we talking about this now?

I should have responded with something witty, but Marcus seemed to have focused his attention on me. I throw my cell into my purse and dive into my meal. He has quite an appetite on him, almost polishing off the burger in a second.

“I could do another,” he says with a satisfied smile.

“Why not? You only live once. There’s always the gym…” I trail off.

“So tell me, why are you a gym virgin and why the sudden urge to work out? You look amazing, hot, sexy, just in case no one has ever told you that.” He smirks.

“Nice flirting.” I laugh in return, relaxing us both. “Long, long story. Maybe another time.”

“I’ve got time.”

“Super long.”

“Hmm, okay sixty seconds. Ten questions, I get to ask you anything and that’ll satisfy my curiosity.”

“Huh?”

He looks at his watch. “Time starts now. Who did you last date?”

What was the rule of the game? He taps on his watch, so I answer quickly.

“Date? I was engaged to a guy named Jason.”

“Why did you guys break it off?”

“It wasn’t right,” I stutter nervously.

He raises his eyebrows, but does not pry any further.

“Where did you grow up?”

“Virginia.”

“Siblings?”

“An older sister, Gemma.”

“Favorite band?”

“Band? Bon Jovi.”

“Nice,” he adds. “Favorite song?”

“In These Arms…Bon Jovi.”

“Favorite movie?”

“Father of the Bride.”

He pauses, then follows with a short chuckle. “I love that movie too.”

“Really?” I laugh out loud.

“Favorite food?”

“Nachos.”

“Ultimate holiday destination?”

“Australia,” I answer with a smile.

“Why did Haden take you outside on Friday night?”

The question, a giant curveball, stuns me. Mentally, I try to calculate how many questions he has asked me, but all I think about is some excuse that will satisfy him without having to let the cat out of the bag.

“How many questions is that? I think your time is up.”

“I’m sure you can answer the last one.” His stern tone catches me off guard.

I could tell him the truth; besides, if this goes any further, I can’t hide something like that from him. What are the chances of this going further? He is young, I am older. The best we could achieve is copious amounts of hot sex.

“We had an argument earlier that day. Frankly, your cousin is a jerk.”

He seems fixated on my movement, and I give him nothing to see how uncomfortable I am with this conversation.

“I think I will order that second burger.”

“Don’t I get to ask you the lightning round of questions?”

“The next date you can.” He winks.

“Oh, there’s going to be a next date?” I ask coyly.

“Why wouldn’t there be?” He angles his face closer to mine, and with his lips slightly parted, I follow his lead until our lips brush together. The butterflies have crept their way into my stomach, causing some major excitement, but it’s soon followed by the grim reaper—guilt. I don’t know who or what I am feeling guilty about. My second attempt at playing the field since Jason and I broke up only two weeks ago, or the fact that he is the Jerk’s cousin.

Don’t answer that.

“Marcus?” I say softly as we both move away. “I just broke up with my fiancé. I’m slowly adjusting to life being single again.”

“I’m not asking you to marry me, Presley. We can have fun together.”

Fun. That either means hanging out at the amusement park or being tied to the bed with a gag ball and chains. Kitty has her voting cards out already, proudly holding up ‘option two.’

Traitor.

We finish lunch and head back to the office. Marcus insists on taking me back to my desk. I put my purse away and before I know it, he leans in to gently kiss my lips again. In the background, I hear a throat being cleared. It’s Dee, and she is standing with an overly thrilled Clive.

“Listen, I better go. Call me tonight, okay?”

I nod, and when he turns the corner, I think all is sweet until the whispers become louder and the three of us are standing there trying to eavesdrop.

“Just like when we were kids,” I hear the Jerk say.

“You said I had free rein,” Marcus responds, frustrated.

“When did you ever hear me say that?” he bites back.

“Friday night. Though you never explained why you pulled her away from the dance floor? C’mon Haden, you’re fucking the blonde. What do you care?”

Silence falls between us all. Dee looks hurt, but that soon turns to anger. She glares at me like this is all my fault.

“You’re right, I am fucking the blonde. So why should I care about Malone? She’s all yours, bud.”

It’s my turn to be crestfallen. I’m not angry or upset with Marcus; they have some bro code going on and he clearly has been given the green light.

Yet, I am not a possession.

I don’t belong to Haden, but hearing him admit that he doesn’t care for me, not even one miniscule of a feeling after he had his way, is enough to eat away at me.

I cannot fall for him. I cannot even want him in any way.

Praying for a miracle is my only exit, and thankfully, that miracle arrives at 3pm when Mr. Sadler announces that Haden Cooper will be taking on an assignment in London for four months.

Halle-fucking-lujah!