Page 6 of Face Off
“Christ on a mother fucking cracker.” I rub my elbow. “That’s my good arm.”
“Why are you running away? You wanted to play last night,” the blonde says.
“Listen, I’m down to try anything once, but that was definitely the alcohol talking. Drunk thoughts are not the same in the morning, and they should not be repeated. Especially when they involve my ass.”
“That’s no fun. Come back to bed,” she says.
“Kind of busy at the moment.”
The world tilts a little bit as I lie on the floor under a pile of overpriced silk. It’s nicer down here, and I think this might be the way I die: with tequila in my blood, my vision blurring around the edges, and my ass thoroughly groped.
I take a deep breath and glance up at her, ready to launch into my usual speech.
It’s not you, it’s me.
It would never work—I’m hardly home.
You deserve a man who can drop everything and be by your side.
The sex was great, but last night is all it’ll ever be.
“Look, Bailey. I had a great time with you, but I?—”
“It’s Bethany,” she says, and she crosses her arms over her bare chest.
I whimper at her cleavage, and now I remember why I let her palm me through my jeans on the ride home; her tits are fan-fucking-tastic.
“Right, sorry. Bethany.” I sigh like this is the most painful thing I’ve ever had to do. It kind of is; my head won’t stop throbbing, and I’m going to need three Advil just to get through the day. “I have a meeting with my coach in an hour, and I have to pull myself out of this hangover.”
It’s not a total lie. Iamhungover and Idoneed to see Coach Saunders, but I also want her to leave as soon as possible.
“Can I give you my phone number? Maybe we can get lunch sometime. Or dinner. Oh! My sister is getting married next month. You could come as my plus-one,” she says. “Her fiancé is a big hockey fan.”
“I’m not looking to date right now,” I toss back, trying not to cringe.
A fucking wedding?
We’re entering the stage five clinger zone, and I have to get out of here.
“But—”
“We agreed it was only for the night, right?” I stare at her, and she’s pouting. Full onpouting, with her bottom lip sticking out like a kid who didn’t get their way.
“I thought maybe I could change your mind. You told me how much you liked it when I?—”
“Mav?” A voice booms from my living room, and I groan again. Too many loud noises. “Where are you? I brought breakfast.”
“This has been fun, but it’s time for you to go…” I hesitate. What the fuck is wrong with me that I can’t remember this woman’s name? “…Becky,” I inject all the confidence I can muster that I’ve guessed right.
“Bethany,” she huffs.
Swing and a fucking miss.
“Bethany,” I repeat, pretending like I’m trying to make it stick.
“Fine. I’m going.”
She grabs a dress and a pair of sky-high heels off the floor and storms out of my room buck naked. I hear murmured voices out in the living room, then the door to my apartment slams shut.
