Never (13 page)

He shoved his hands in his pocket and I read the nervous lines of his body like an open book. "It's not technically my office—" When he saw my narrowed gaze he finished, "No, I'm good."

I gave him a curt nod and turned to go, feeling the pressure build; knowing no good would come from it. What was the point of blowing up? Yes, he hurt me...and I'd be lying if I wasn't imagining terrible things to do to him with the stapler a few feet away. But after his penis was stapled to his boxers, what then? After the high of hearing him screech in white hot pain, what next? All that proved was that he still had power over me. And since control and dignity was all I had left, I was just going to walk away.

"Julia—"

His fingers brushed my hand...and my whole live and let live, be the bigger person thing went right out the window.

"Don't you
ever
touch me!"

He pulled his hand back, but didn't break the space between us. "I'm just trying to apologize. Listen—"

"No,
you
listen," I said brusquely, feeling all the hurt bubbling to the surface. "I stuck by you when anyone with a speck of common sense or self respect would have told you to fuck off." He settled back, still acting like he had no idea what I was talking about. "Don't play stupid, Jared. I'm talking about the nights, the
days
where you reeked of Budweiser and tequila. How you'd go from everyone's best friend to everyone's worst nightmare.
My
worst nightmare."

Realization and memories drained his face of his golden complexion. "I know I drank a little too much—"

"A little?" I snorted. "How can you even say that with a straight face?" I held up a finger, silencing him. "I’m not done. You're forgetting the time you got so trashed that you went swimming in the fountain in front of the administration building. Or the time you got behind the wheel and thank God campus security pulled you over before you really hurt someone. Thank God your last name is Brooks and your grandfather is on the board at N.C. State and swept it under the rug." My throat was on fire, but I ignored it. I ignored the voice that told me this was just a waste of breath. I didn't say all I needed to say before; I wouldn't be robbed of the chance a second time.

"And I guess the time you slammed me into the wall when I said I was done, eyes bloodshot, words slurring, was just because you ‘drank a little too much’?"

He winced, like he was the one remembering the shards of pain, the panic of not being able to breathe. Like he felt the hollow sorrow and aching regret I felt when I realized I missed all the signs that led us to the moment we were destined for. When Hyde eclipsed Dr. Jekyll and the guy I fell in love with was a lie.

I dropped my gaze to the carpet, my eyes spotting things I'd missed. The gold didn't glitter; it was dull and worn. The dark navy bled.

"I haven't had a drink in months," he said finally.

I snorted at that. Was I supposed to forgive him now that he found AA? Was I supposed to give him a clean slate? The alcohol just brought out the real Jared hiding underneath. A bottle of Jose Cuervo didn't choke me; it didn't hide a camera in his room, waiting to catch me unaware and exposed.

"I still shouldn't have done any of those things," he added, picking up on my BS meter dinging. "I'll regret what I did for the rest of my life. I'm so sorry, Julia."

Two apologies in less than five minutes. Too bad there was no way to go back, no way to undo the damage that was done.

The only light, the only good thing that came from any of this was that it led me back to Lucas.

There were no tears when I moved toward the door, the creaky  wheels of the cart filling the silence.

"I don't forgive you—and I don't wish you well."

He was apparently in a chatty mood, his words following me into the hall. ‘I’m sorry’ rang in my ears over and over again. He was sorry. How nice. My reputation was still ruined. My privacy was still invaded. His apology didn’t take away the hurt. His apology didn’t make me whole again.

A gust of wind whipped around me and I shivered. I blinked my eyes, the golden glow of the parking lot lights disorienting.

Wind? Parking lot lights?

I blinked again, looking around.

I didn’t remember coming outside.

Pain radiated in my palm, creeping up my arm. I looked down, my keys balled in my fist.

What in the...

I gasped, taking a step back. I was standing beside Jared’s prized possession, a candy apple red Ford Mustang. And I’d carved the word ‘Liar’ into the hood.

Chapter Fifteen: Lucas

I used to live for nights like these. Where the night was warm enough to allow girls to wear tiny strips of clothing, showing off their bronzed skin and glimmers of diamonds at their navel. Toned legs on display. Kegs lined up and ready to go, weekend stretching before me like some endless thing where anything was possible. Where any girl was possible.

But tonight, everything felt wrong.

It was almost November and I felt like I was back in North Carolina in July. It was hot; too hot for the button down I wore, even with the sleeves rolled up and some blond sauntering up to me with a squirt bottle and spritzing me in the chest.

The party was summer themed, or something. All the girls had to wear bikinis to get in and people wielded water guns like it was the Wild West. It was hard to believe that once upon a time this party would have been my scene. Instead, I was starting to wonder if I could duck out before one of my fraternity brothers spotted me.

I turned to go but paused when someone gripped my arm. I looked down and saw French tip nails on my forearm.

The blond who squirted me wore a patriotic red, white and blue bikini, the American flag clutching her body in a way that would have sent the forefathers into cardiac arrest.

"Where you going?" she purred, big brown eyes humping me.

I pulled my arm away, forcing a smile on my face. "Home."

"Home?" she pouted. "But you just got here."

Blake's booming laughter flowed from the open front door. Close enough that ducking away was no longer an option.

He stepped onto the porch, two petite girls in black bikinis trailing behind him. The fact that he was fully clothed and they were decidedly not, trailing behind him while he barely noticed their existence, made me shake my head.

He was grinning like a guy that didn't give a damn...because he was
lit
.

"Lucas, you sonofabitch!" He yelled, pushing through the huddle of people in the front yard like he was on the football field. He was still a good ten feet away and I could already smell the beer on him.

The blond moved beside me, placing a casual arm around my shoulder.

He missed my fist bump by a mile but took it in stride. "Glad you made it back in one piece."

The trip!
An excuse flashed in my head. I'll say I was just stopping by to see what was up and bow out because my flight was so terrible and I'm exhausted.

It wasn’t a complete lie. I sat beside some old lady who didn't get that my one word answers were my way of saying I wasn't feeling chatty. Instead, I had to sit there while she told me all about her family and their impossibly happy love story.

Her husband was her childhood sweetheart and they got hitched when he came back from the war. Her daughter married her high school sweetheart and he went abroad to fight in Afghanistan and they thought he was KIA but a year after his squad was mowed down, he wakes up from a coma.

Maybe if my own love life was in better shape it would have been charming. I knew her story was all about love conquering all and if they survived Vietnam and comas, maybe there was a chance for me and Julie, but I couldn't go there. I'd seen her face, her eyes when I admitted I'd threatened Lance. In the space between the moment when I confirmed the truth and she realized there was no escaping it, I saw myself in her gaze. She was afraid of me.

I blinked and noticed that Blake was frowning and the arm around my shoulder had tightened.

"You alright?" he asked, the irony in someone who could barely get those two words out asking if I was okay not lost on me.

The word yes was almost out before I reined it back in. "Sorry, I’m a little out of it. Actually—"

"I get it man." He came closer and I expected him to say something like ‘Man up!’, but he just clapped my shoulder. "I'd be out of it too if I had to deal with what you have to deal with."

The blond cleared her throat, drawing our attention as she snuggled up closer. "Well, why do you think I'm here?"

I gingerly unhooked her arm. "I have no idea. I don't even think we've met."

"I'm Emily," she said, moving to fix her top and flashing me major side boob. "Though the Lucas McNamara I’ve heard about doesn't do names."

The two brunettes beside Blake let out a giggle and something about it made me ashamed. Ashamed that I used to wear my reputation like a badge of honor. I never went home alone, sure. I'd stare at any one of these girls like they should be honored to catch my attention at all. But being the one objectified felt weird. Hell, it all felt weird, like everyone knew something I didn't know.

"Look, if this is about the—" Blake began.

"I've got this, B," Emily cut in, stepping in front of me. Moving closer until I could feel her nipples piercing through her suit.  "You know what they say—the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

My face twisted in anger as I moved away from her. I guess it was official then. Everyone knew about me and Juliet and I'd been branded with some scarlet S for single. A mix of hurt and indignation scraped over me like a grater, slicing and peeling at my usually chill exterior.

"I'm Lucas McNamara," I said brusquely. "I don't need a charity lay."

She was nonplussed by my jab, tongue lashing across her lip. "And I'm not in a charitable mood." She gestured at her lithe, near naked body. "You have to work for this."

The asshole part of me that I liked to pretend went away when Juliet showed back up was itching to take her up on her proposition. It was my usual speed when I was running from something. Pissed when Dad threw a shit fit over my major change? Find the nearest pretty face. Stressed over classes? Hit the bar and leave with some girl’s whose name I didn’t even know.

I didn't like this feeling, the burn in my throat and the pity in my best friend's eyes. This girl was coming to
me
. Offering me a chance to escape. To forget.

My eyes evaluated her, round lush breasts, tiny waist that made her hips look lush in comparison. She had curves in all the right places and from the way she brought her thumb to her lips and sucked, she knew how to use her lips too.

But what then? We hook up in some bedroom and I'd forget her before she even left the room. Because she didn't mean a damn thing to me. And no amount of sex could make me forget Juliet.

I put my inner coward on silent, looking right through her. "Not interested."

Red rushed to her cheeks and her lips knitted in anger. She flipped her hair and stomped away without another word. I had a feeling she wouldn't be lonely for long.

The girls were still draped on Blake and he still smelled like he drank a BevMo, but he was sobering up. "I'm so sorry, man."

"Nothing to be sorry about," I lied, pulling on a mask of indifference. "She did me a favor by ending it."

The girls were clearly bored, trying to pull Blake back toward the festivities. He shook them off and they left in a huff. It was almost ironic. Once upon a time we collected girls like we were connoisseurs of sex. Now we were discarding them like it was nothing. Feeling...well,
feelings
.

"What do you mean by ending it? She broke up with you?" He didn't let me answer, scoffing with disgust. "Figures. I told you she was bad news."

Anger slid into the space between my ribs. I couldn’t ignore it, even if I wanted to. We weren't a couple any more, after all. I didn't have to fight to protect her. "How about you save the I told you so?"

He gave me a nod, snatching a can from some freshman's hand and downing it in record time. He crushed the aluminum can like it was nothing and tossed it over his shoulder.

"If you're not in a blond mood, we have a myriad of flavors in the house." He pulled me in, putting me in a headlock. The smell of beer nearly made me choke but I extricated myself, letting out a nervous chuckle. I knew he was trying to help, but it was too soon.

"Thanks for the offer. Really. But I'm not really feeling it tonight."

"That Erin girl was right—"

"Emily," I corrected, trying to shake the smile on my lips but it wasn't budging. I followed him up the stairs, headed toward the eye of the party.

"Whatever," he laughed, the boisterous sound clearing out some of my blues. "She had a point. The best way to get over Juliet is to get under someone else."

I looked at him. Even if we weren't surrounded by our friends and scantily clad women, I would never speak the truth out loud. That I didn't want to get over Juliet. I didn't want to dull out this pain. I wanted to own it. I wanted to feel every knee buckling part of it, because it was just what I deserved. I was pretty sure the only woman Blake had ever loved was his mother and he'd just embarrass me if I tried to explain why I wasn't upstairs with a girl of two.

"C'mon man," he prodded, his voice rising over the music. "I swear a hot girl and a beer or three is better than Ben and Jerry's and some romantic comedy."

"I hear ya," I said, shoving him playfully. I looked over at the keg and held up a single finger. "I'll do a beer. One beer—then I'm out."

"Just one?" He said perking an eyebrow. "You're a gladiator, man. If my girl made a sex video with some guy I'd be drinking all the alcohol in Washington state."

I stopped moving, blood running cold, chilling me to the bone.

I misheard him. My ears were playing tricks on me. Because it sounded an awful lot like he...

Nah. I shook the thought away. Juliet told me that she went by a whole different name back then. And after she threatened to take legal action, the video stopped circulating.