Page 12 of The One I Need
“What the fuck, man?”
I stumble as he is now in an all-out sprint, still holding on to me.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
“In my room,” I say, wondering why he’s so mad. “I came as soon as I got your message.”
He lets go, but my feet don’t stop, causing me to stumble a bit as I get my bearings. “We’ve been trying to get a hold of you all morning. Why weren’t you picking up your phone?”
“I did. I came down as soon as I heard it.”
“Check again. You’ll see about thirty missed calls and fifty unread texts.”
I do as he says, and yup, he’s right. Hell, were we that in our own world that I didn’t hear any of these through the morning?
“Sorry, man,” I say. “What do you need me to do?”
He leans in and smells me. “I really need you to take a shower so you don’t smell like booze and sex. But we don’t have time for that.”
I tilt my head down to try and take a whiff. Yup. I stink. I also can still smell her perfume on me, so I choose to focus on that instead.
“Sorry. What do you want me to do?”
“Here,” he says, shoving a piece of poster board into my hands. “Just hold this and don’t move until Betsy comes by.”
I look down at the poster board to see an arrow pointing to my right. I look that way and see the automatic door, which is opening and closing as guests file out. Just outside the door, holding another sign, is Shane.
Oh my gosh, are we holding signs like inLove Actually,except instead of words it’s arrows pointing to where Wes is waiting for Betsy? How damn romantic. I hold back a tear, so proud of Wes for coming up with this on his own. Usually this is something he’d call me for. I’m the romantic of the group. Back in high school, I’m the one my friends turned to when they needed to buy a thoughtful gift. When we were older, I was the one Wes called when he proposed to his now ex-wife.
I’m still pissed I wasted an epic proposal on her gold-digging ass.
But Wes did this all on his own. Then again, he could have called me, based on the dozens of mixed texts and calls. Normally I’d feel bad about that. But knowing who I was with, and what I was likely doing when I missed those calls, I don’t feel bad at all.
My smile turns sour real quick, knowing that I’m never going to see Izzy again. I mean, it’s possible I could. Rolling Hills isn’t far from where she lives in Nashville, and she does have friends who either live, or work, in Rolling Hills. I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility that I’ll see her again. But last night’s interaction was a one-time-only performance.
And what a performance it was.
I know I can be intense when the lights go out. And for some, it’s not their cup of tea. Actually, for most it’s not, or so I’ve been told by mymanyex-girlfriends. But somehow I had a feeling with Izzy I could be exactly the man I am. And for every minute I spent with her, I let that man take over.
It was fucking glorious.
The feel of her skin as I kissed every inch of her. The way her back arched when I pulled her hair. The sound of her ass being smacked echoing the room. Fuck, it’s enough to make me march back upstairs, lock the door, and make her forget everything she said to me.
But I know that can’t happen. For starters, I know when no means no. And second, I know that if I had her again, if she would have said yes to seeing me again, that she’d only seep further into my veins. Right now, I think I can detox. But after another hit? I know I’d be a goner.
Fuck, why does this happen to me? Only I can meet a woman who laughs at my jokes, drinks Jack Daniels like water, is fucking sexy as hell, and lets me be the real me, only for her to end things before they can begin.
I thought before the wedding that it was never going to be my turn. After last night, I’m really starting to believe it.
“Oliver? Are you okay?”
I shake my head as I hear Betsy’s voice. Shit, I didn’t even see her come toward me. I also forgot for a second what I was doing here. Oh yeah, helping my best friend get his girl back because they’re in love. Blah…
“You’re lucky I like you.”
“Okay…”
Shit, I shouldn’t be talking to Betsy like this. She’s great. Wes is great. I can’t be fucking up their reunion just because I’m in a piss-ass mood.
