Page 14 of Love Me, I Dare You

Chapter Six

Bailey

It has to have been a dream.

I’ve spent the last six hours tossing and turning in bed. Visions of Nash standing across from me at the bar swirling in my mind like a bad dream haunting me and keeping me awake. The way his eyes met mine the moment he walked in and my entire world came crashing down. In an instant, I was teleported back to his bedroom that night, lying underneath him as he made me feel like the most beautiful and desired girl, only to make me feel unwanted the next day.

The way he watched me with an expression I couldn't read was driving me absolutely crazy. My body reacted to him in a way I hated myself for, yet it was like muscle memory to once again feel everything for him all at once. The want, the need, the pain, the hatred. Everything came rushing into me all at once and it was the most devastating, yet exhilarating, feeling. I hated it as much as I craved it.

I sat in my office after he left, replaying our conversation and trying to figure out what had occurred. For a moment, I evenbelieved I’d imagined the whole encounter, and if the bar didn’t still smell like him hours later, I could have almost believed it.

Why was Nash Bishop in my bar? Was he back in town for a reason? Was he here to stay or just passing through? Had Nash ever thought of me as much as I thought of him?

These questions plagued my mind, but I knew it would do me no good to wonder. His mere presence continued to haunt me with burning questions I needed answers to, and it was so incredibly frustrating.

Sitting up in bed, I search for my phone under the layers of plush pillows tucked all around me. The one thing in my apartment that is completely unpacked and organized is my bed. A large California King size bed with a Siberian goose down comforter and luxurious bamboo silk sheets and pillowcases on the eight feather pillows, make my bed the most comfortable oasis. It’s a surprise I’m even able to wake up in the mornings. You would think I valued my sleep much more than I actually do because of the extents I go to ensure my comfort.

The sunlight peeks through the curtains, blaring into my eyes as I reach for my phone, only to find it vibrates as I do. Looking at the screen, I notice it’s only eight in the morning, yet I’m usually up much earlier than this. Though after my tossing and turning last night, I texted Billie and let her know I wouldn’t be going into the HoneyBees as early as I typically do. No, I need a few more hours to recover from seeing Nash Bishop again after all this time. Aside from needing to get a hold of Jase, who hasn’t responded to any of the texts I sent him last night. I don’t care that he needs a few days off. I’m only pissed he didn’t tell me anything about it.

Unlocking my screen and opening the messaging app, I see it’s Monroe who’s texted me, another one immediately coming through.

Monroe: SOS. Calling an emergency meeting.

Monroe: I NEED MY BESTIES ASAP!!

The urgency in her message frightens me. Monroe isn’t one to ask for help, so her need for us lets me know something is terribly wrong. Deciding my best friend's dilemma triumphs my sulking around, I get up out of bed and look for some clothes to throw on before heading to HoneyBees. I type up a quick response before grabbing a pair of ripped jeans and a white Pink Floyd Tee and heading to the bathroom to change.

Bailey: Heading over to HoneyBees in twenty.

Billie’s response comes in just as I hit send, and suddenly, Monroe’s freak out is completely justified.

Billie: If this has anything to do with the devil I just saw walking down Main Street, I’m going to need something stronger than a latte.

I halt my steps, my stomach dropping as I fall back onto my bed in shock. She knows. Monroe knows Nash is back in town and is surely freaking out.

Monroe: I CAN’T DRINK ANYTHING STRONGER!

My poor friend must be losing her mind. Just a few weeks ago she found out the one-night stand she had with some guy back in Florida, during our annual girls trip to Miami, turned into more than that when she took a pregnancy test only to confirm what she already knew to be true.

Now this—her brother back home after a decade of not seeing and rarely speaking to her. I can’t imagine the hurt I’d feel ifJase or Cam ever ignored me for that long. When Nash left town, it wasn’t only me he ignored. It took two years for any of his brothers to hear from him. Nothing more than an“I’m alive”text to Beau, who seemed to be the only one he bothered talking to.

Monroe called him and texted him every day for an entire year until she gave up and realized there was nothing she could do if he didn’t want to be found. After that, she talked to him maybe once every few months, but Nash never came back to visit, unlike Theo and Beau, who at least made it out here during the holidays.

She and I weren’t the best of friends growing up, particularly because of my family's feelings toward hers, but once Nash left, it was like our pain of losing him brought us together.

Deciding Monroe needs me more than the HoneyBees does, I text Kelsey, one of our employees who was supposed to have the day off, and ask her to cover for me. I hate doing this, but there’s an emergency I just can’t ignore. Kelsey quickly replies she’s available, and I let her know she should be good to leave after our morning rush. Anyway, Mondays are pretty mellow after ten am.

Bailey: Asked Kelsey to cover for me this morning. See you here in twenty.

Billie: I’ll bring the tequila. Sorry Moe, can’t keep sober in solidarity for this one.

Monroe: I hate you. Okay, I’m already here.

Jumping back out of bed, I don’t bother changing my clothes, quickly brush my teeth and wash my face before heading to the front door for Monroe. If she’s already here, this means whatever happened is much worse than what I've imagined.

As the door swings open, I find Monroe with tears brimming from her eyes and an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. Shelooks so young. Her face is free of any makeup and my heart aches for the little girl who’s dealt with so much pain and grief her whole life. From being neglected by her parents, hated by her father for looking so much like her mother, to being raised by her older brother, who although he’s one of the rare good guys, he’s extremely overprotective of her and sometimes barely lets her breathe.

“Moe,” I say as she bolts into my arms and sobs against my chest. Her chest heaves as her lungs gasp for air in between sobs. I’ve never seen her this way. The only time she’s ever cried with me this way was when she found out she was pregnant and even then I could see the small glimmer of hope in her eyes at being a mother.

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