Page 13 of Second Chance Ex
“No, I’m notdoing okay,” I say, surprised by my own admission.
Joey’s hint of a smile disappears with my words, and the air between us turns palpable with the long-forgotten memory of our unresolved past. He turns around, looking at me fully, and I can almost see him racking his mind for something to say, something that will probably just dredge up the brittle bones of our past. I can’t let that happen. Not tonight. Not here in a bathroom… again.
Instead, I veer off the risky topic of conversation,managing a smile despite the plethora of conflicting emotions swirling around in my head. “I mean, look at my dress?”
I turn just enough to give him a glimpse of the skin I have currently on display. “I have to go give a speech with half my ass hanging out.” I scoff, shaking my head. “That’ll teach me to panic-buy a dress a size too small just because it was on sale,” I mutter.
Joey’s smile returns, only I can see there’s a sadness in his eyes as he begins toward me, gaze focused on the disaster that is my dress. His hands are tentative as he reaches for the silky material, and I’m almost reduced to goo when I feel the faintest graze of his thick fingers brush against the sensitive skin at my back. For a moment he toys with the torn pieces of satin, looking closely as if he’s going to be able to sew me back together with his eyeballs. I conceal my body’s reactive shiver, stepping away, putting as much space between us as the small room will allow. But then I hit my hip on the counter and wince in pain, my anger returning.
“It’s pointless. It’s well and truly destroyed.” I wave a hand in the air, effectively pushing him away to give myself the space I need. I reach for my phone on the counter. “I’ve been trying to get Maddy to bring me something to wear, but she’s stillindisposedwith Ryan in the shower.”
“Shower?” Joey’s brows knit together. “Ryan and Maddy are out in the tent.”
“Of course they are.” I toss my phone back onto the counter.Thank you very much, Madison.I roll my eyes at my insolent best friend, hoping one of her eyelashes does come off, mid-speech, the moment captured in a photograph as a permanent reminder.
Joey looks me up and down, briefly glancing back at the door like he’s desperate to get out of here but doesn’t want to make things any more awkward than they already are. And I suppose I can’t really blame him; he has a pretty blonde with a completely intact dress to get back to. But just when I think he’s going to mutter some lame excuse and exit stage left, he does something I certainly wasn’t expecting, nor prepared for. He shrugs off his suit jacket, and then shakes it out, holding it up for me. Confused, I glance from it to Joey and back again, catching a glimpse of the label at the back which only causes my eyes to bulge.
“No, it’s fine.” I wave a hand. “Besides, I’ll probably just end up spilling something all over it. And, let’s face it, there’s no way I can afford to replace anything with a Tom Ford label on a teacher’s salary.”
Joey offers a droll look. “Prue, half your ass is hanging out. I can see the top of your thong, for fuck’s sake.” I don’t miss the low grumble at the back of his throat—almost a growl—as he moves behind me and insistently drapes the lush dinner jacket over my shoulders. And I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but it almost feels like a possessive move, thinly veiled as a casual act of kindness. I allow it, though.Because I’m pathetic, that’s why.
Joey is six-foot-five and then some, so I’m practically drowning in his jacket, the sleeves are far too long, but most problematic of all is that it smells exactly how I remember Joey to smell. He has one of those scents that lingers long after he’s gone. On more than a few occasions over the past couple of years I’ve found myself pausing in public, nose in the air like a hound, sniffing hard when I catch the slightest hint of a whiff ofsomething that reminds me ever so slightly of Joey Tanner’s aroma. Yes, I am borderline psychotic, thanks for asking.
I look at myself in the mirror, wearing Joey’s jacket, basking in the warmth and albeit false sense of security a jacket can possibly provide. But then my eyes move to Joey in the reflection where he towers behind me, his gaze darkening as he watches me. He’s dressed only in his white shirt, unbuttoned enough to show off a hint of his strong chest through the gaping collar, and all I want right in this moment is for him to wrap his arms around me like he once would have, to hold me close and whisper in my ear that he loves me. There’s something between us still. I can’t be imagining this. He has to feel it too. It hangs heavily in the air around us, and it’s almost uncomfortable.
I force myself to look away from him, nervously tucking my hair behind my ear.
“You cut your hair,” is all he says after a few silent beats, his voice low and raspy in that way that makes me wonder if those words hurt him to say.
I meet his eyes again, finding something in his gaze that makes my cheeks flush of their own accord.
“It looks good.” His voice is barely a whisper, and I can feel him pressed up against me. He isn’t touching me, as such. Not intentionally, at least. But he’s just right there.
My eyes flit to his big hand at his side, watching as it clenches into a fist, as if he’s itching to touch me but can’t possibly bring himself to do it. I can feel his breath ghosting over the back of my neck. I can feel his eyes, his gaze burning as it trails over my skin, zeroing in at the one spot in the crook of my neck, the spot he knowsused to drive me wild when he’d drag his tongue over it. My heart races and I’m certain he can hear it.
When a sudden crash comes through the door from somewhere in the kitchen, it’s as if I’ve been doused with iced water and I’m brought back to the present. To the fact that it’s just the two of us again. To the fact that he’s no longermyJoey. To the fact that he has a glossy new girlfriend and she’s literally right outside.
I clear my throat again, turning around to face him, taking a step back so that I’m pressed right up against the bathroom counter. In some pathetic attempt at trying to put a barricade between us, I fold my arms across my chest because I can’t be trusted being so close to him right now, particularly not with the way he’s currently looking at me.
“Your girlfriend’s pretty,” I say, looking up at him with the vague hint of a smile despite the words burning like battery acid on my tongue.
And, as if I’ve just slapped him across his face, Joey rears back slightly, seemingly snapping himself out of his daze. He studies me a moment, a deep crease etching between his brows, eyes flitting between mine. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat with a hard swallow as he nods. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I suppose I should g-get back out there.”
In the ten years I’ve known Joey Tanner, I have never once witnessed him stammer. He’s always been so in control in every situation, but suddenly he’s falling all over himself and his words, awkward and clumsy. In his haste to the door, he even trips over nothing more than his own size fourteens. He pauses in the doorway, glancing back at me, not saying anything, just looking me up and down as if he’s trying tomemorize me, or maybe he’s trying to forget. And then he’s gone.
I poke my head out the door, catching sight of his retreating back. “What about your jacket?”
He stops, narrowly avoiding plowing down a passing waiter. Turning back around to face me, he runs a hand through his hair, muttering something that sounds like a half-hearted apology. Then his eyes meet mine before furtively looking away. “Just-just leave it at your parents’ house. I’ll grab it next time I’m there.” And, with that, he turns and disappears.
I stare at the spot he just vanished from, my mind left reeling. I shake my befuddled head, trying to make sense of his words. My parents’ house? Why would I leave Joey’s Tom For jacket at my parents’ house?
The more I think about it, the more and more something doesn’t quite add up. And, if I’m not mistaken, it has Patricia Watson’s name written all over it.
Istare out the window, at the darkness outside, at the passing blur of the towering redwoods that line the winding mountain road. Idly chewing on my thumbnail, my mind is officially racked after tonight. What the fuck even was that? And why the hell did I just?—
“So, that was her, huh?”
With a start, I’m torn from my thoughts. I glance sideways at Jessie. She doesn’t take her eyes off the road, so I use the opportunity to look at her, check her out, because why the hell not? Dressed in that little gold dress that shows off her long legs and killer rack, her pale blonde hair cascading down over her shoulders, she’s undeniably hot; most cheerleaders typically are. But there’s more to Jessie. She’s not just nice to look at, she’s a cool girl. I like her a lot.
