Page 1 of Forgotten Pieces

Chapter One

Tacoma

I brace my hands against the headboard of my bed to stop my head from banging into it.

I close my eyes and try to figure out why the hell I brought this guy back to my house through the daze of alcohol. Unfortunately, this wasn’t my first mistake of the night.

My first mistake was deciding to start drinking at two in the afternoon. Alone.

My second was going to the stupid new club that opened last week. This was after I drank five martinis and two shots of tequila. The fact I was able to get into the club was astounding. The fact I was able to walk in my four-inch heels an even bigger accomplishment.

My third mistake was bringing jackhammer-dick home.

Now don’t get me wrong, I would have gone home with just about anyone.Gone home withbeing the keywords. I never bring anyone back to my place. I prefer the bang and dash. I know, for a girl it’s not common. But I gave up on men and relationships four years ago. And I don’t regret a second of it.

I open my eyes and stare up at my ceiling in my tiny studio apartment in New York City. This was my dream since I was fourteen. I made it a reality at eighteen. But eight years later, I am over it.

And it has nothing to do with the guy who I hope is almost finished hovering over me.

All the hopes and dreams this city has to offer with its blinding lights, skyscrapers, and possibilities are just a pipe dream I gave up on when I turned twenty-two. The fact I stayed here for four more years is beyond my own comprehension. Maybe I have been punishing myself for the things I’ve done.Or I am addicted to the misery. I don’t even know. The only thing I know right now is that I am going to need some Advil in the morning for the headache this sex is causing and a good ol’ session with BOB before I finish packing up the rest of my shit.

My brother, Easton, is getting married in a week. I am happy for him. But he probably won’t be happy when he sees me with all my shit in tow, moving back to my small, suffocating hometown of White Creek. I just hope he lets me crash at his house, the house I grew up in, without advance notice.

It’s probably a huge mistake to move back. Even if it is only temporary. But if I thought the county lines around White Creek were suffocating, the city limits of New York City are even worse.

The guy, let’s call him Jack since I don’t recall his name, grunts and rolls off me.

Finally.

“Oh baby, that was so good.”

I roll my eyes and sit up, looking for a t-shirt in my dark, one window apartment. Fuck it. I walk to the bathroom naked, knowing there should be dirty clothes in there.

I clean myself up and find yoga pants and a t-shirt and walk toward my kitchen turning on the three lights in my apartment.

“Damn. Turn the lights off and come back to bed,” Jack groans.

I grab my water pitcher out of the refrigerator and pour a glass of water. I throw four Advil into my mouth and swallow them down, gathering my thoughts so I don’t physically drag this guy out of my place.

“How about you just go home?”

His face falls from eager to disappointed. “What the hell, Tacoma? It’s late, you can’t honestly want me to leave.”

I glance at the clock. “It’s just before four. I would say it’s early enough. You can hop on the train with all the early birds.”

“It’s Saturday morning.”

I scratch my head and think about it. “Oh damn, you’re right, ughh, what’s your name again?”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You don’t know my name?” Jackhammer asks as he gets out of bed and pulls his pants on.

“It must have slipped my mind. Just like the fact it is Saturday and I need to be at work in two hours.” That’s a lie. I quit my job three days ago, but hopefully it will get him out of my place.

Jack pulls his shirt over his head and slides his feet into his slip-ons before he storms over to me. “You are a fucking bitch. Why did I waste my time with you?” He practically spits in my face.

I look up into his eyes and smirk. “I think I wasted my time on you. Next time you try and snag a girl, make sure you know how to fuck her first.”

His face turns the color of a tomato. I am not sure if his rage is violent and I couldn’t care less at this point. Fortunately for me, he groans and storms out of my place.

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