Page 11 of Jeremy
Shit.Damn. Hell.
It’sMelissa. She’s naked and in my bed, which can only mean one thing, and I don’tremember one second of it. Justus and Tucker and their damn intervention. Lookwhere it’s gotten me. I have to get her out of here.
Sittingup, I grab the water and down it. My abrupt movement jostles her, and sheblinks, trying to focus her bloodshot eyes.
“Morning,”she says, sitting up and pulling the sheet over her chest.
“Youhave to go,” I tell her, jumping out of bed when she reaches to touch me. Myhead pounds, and my stomach twists.
Sheglares at me, her lips thinning into a straight line before she spits,“Asshole. I should have known.”
Shestomps around the room, collecting her clothes, and manages to knock a pictureframe off the dresser. Snatching it up, she tosses it back onto the dresser,and the broken glass rattles. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. Beingnice to assholes has never gotten me anywhere. I’m a damn glutton forpunishment.”
Jerkingmy underwear up, I tell her, “Last night was a mistake. We were drunk. I nevershould’ve had you here, but you didn’t exactly run away, so if you’re waitingfor an apology, don’t hold your breath.”
I’maware I’m being a dick, but I need to put a stop to this right now. Frannie hasonly been dead for six weeks. It doesn’t matter she wasn’t technically mygirlfriend or that we were dating other people when it happened. We would’vefound one another again. I know it.
Herglare fades a bit and she shakes her head, grumbling, “Unbelievable. Fuckingclass act.”
“You’researching for your panties under my dresser. Doesn’t exactly scream classy,” Iremark, grabbing some clothes and heading for my bathroom.
“Gofuck yourself with that limp dick!” she yells as I close the door. With anyluck, she’ll be gone when I’m done.
ChapterThree
Melissa
Ragetakes over as I pull my clothes on. I thought no one could top the assholesI’ve been surrounded by the past few years, but this guy managed. The look onhis face when he saw me in his bed was like a physical assault. Revulsion,that’s what I saw in his expression. Disgust and horror, like he woke up nextto some deformed monster.
Well,fuck him. I don’t need another man around me who thinks I’m trash. The onlyreason I even agreed to join them last night was because his friends seemed sonice, and the months of little to no social interaction are beginning to weighon me. I could feel the depression taking hold, and I thought maybe a night offun and drinking would help.
Instead,I’m treated like a leper and doing the walk of shame. At least I only have togo next door.
Justusis dancing around the kitchen, singing about girls with big butts when I stalkby. He looks up at me with a wide smile.
“Goodmorning. How many pancakes can you eat? They’re chocolate chip.”
Shovingmy feet into my shoes, I take a deep breath. No reason to take anything out onone of the two guys who have actually been kind to me. “No thanks. I need toget home.”
Tuckerwalks into the room and flops onto the couch. Justus glances at him beforeturning to me. “What did Jeremy do?”
“Hejust made it clear I needed to get out of his house before I infect him or something.Thanks for the drinks last night. It was fun. Nice meeting you both.”
AllI want to do is get out of here and lick my re-opened wounds at home, butTucker gets to his feet and lays a hand on my wrist. “Whatever that idiot saidor did, it wasn’t about you.”
Yeah,right. They didn’t see the look on his face when he saw me in his bed. “It’sokay. I need to get home anyway.”
“Hisgirlfriend died in July,” Justus says, joining us in the living room. “He’s strugglingwith it.”
“It’sstill no excuse for how he treated you,” Tucker adds.
“Butit explains a lot,” I reply. “Don’t worry about me, really. I’m good. I’ll seeyou later.”
Thistime neither of them stop me when I head for the door. Cool air blows across myface, drying the tears that have started leaking by the time I get home. Atleast I didn’t cry in front of him or his friends.
Theysaid he recently lost his girlfriend. If there’s one thing I know and canrelate to, it’s loss. I’ve had my heart torn out more than once, but I’ve neverused it as an excuse to treat people like shit. If anything, it softened theway I interact with others.
Ihead straight for the shower to get the amazing scent of him off of me. When Iwoke, my face was buried in the sheets and the first thing I noticed was howwonderful they smelled. Now, it just makes me feel dirty.
