That Girl is Mine - Part Two (2 page)

After extricating myself from the sins of my past out front, I look up and see that Roxy has taken everyone inside (that woman is so damn impatient). Then I push my way through to the rope and give them my name so I can get inside. Once clear, I immediately search for Avery. This past couple of weeks has been hard. I’m trying to stay out of her way to give her time to think about how she feels, and at the same time, I’m avoiding Josh. I feel like the shittiest friend on the planet for falling for his girl, and I’ve managed to find extra work tattooing at clubs and private parties to keep me busy in the evenings so I'm not in the way, and I'm not tempted to pressure Avery into making any kind of decision. But, it's hard. I want to be with her.

Partying just isn’t on my radar these days. All I can think about is Avery, and what she’s doing, or thinking. Does she regret kissing me? Does she regret meeting me? Does she think about me as much as I think about her? Has this past couple of weeks made her realize that we’re meant to be, or…? I stop in my tracks, my stomach twisting and dropping, causing my throat to grow thick, and a sour taste to fill my mouth. Up at the bar, Josh is standing with Avery. He’s kissing her. And she’s smiling.

Fuck.

I look away, my hands going to my pockets, to my hair then down to my hips in agitation, as I try to keep my eyes away. But, I can’t help myself, I look back, and I witness the tender moment.

Fuck.

I knew it. I fucking knew it. I should have just gone to New York without saying anything. I never should have kissed her. I never should have let her know how I feel. She’s in love with Josh. She was always in love with Josh. I guess I was just a stand in for when he wasn’t around.

Fuck.

Reaching up, I wipe my hand over my face then run my fingers through my hair, pulling it upward before I take a deep breath. Josh walks away from Avery and lines up at the bar. I look over to where Roxy and the others have claimed a table. Then I look back over to Avery. She looks so damn gorgeous in a short dress that catches the light when she moves. My hands itch to touch her… I glance back over at Roxy. I should just go over to Roxy and leave Avery alone. I should just cut my losses and move on. This was never right to begin with…

“Nice dress,” a delicious voice says next to my ear, sending glorious chills all up and down my spine, causing every resolution my mind has made to melt away. How does he do this to me?

I turn, and smile up at Dylan, who is looking perfectly gorgeous in his black jeans and fitted long sleeve that is pushed up to his elbows, revealing the ink on his forearms. It’s a faded blue color, and has a small pocket at his firm chest, and a row of buttons that is half undone, and ends at the base of his pecs. He’s just so effortlessly beautiful, and just having him near me takes my breath away.

My hands yearn to reach out and touch him, to pull him near. But, then I remember the girls out front, and their hands on him, and their cheek kissing selfies, and how much he seemed to be enjoying their attentions. My spirits plummet.

“Josh is just getting us drinks,” I respond, trying to keep any emotion out of my voice. “He’ll be glad you came.”

“Are you not glad I’m here?” he asks, his eyes narrowing at me, assessing me.

“Probably not as glad as those girls out front were. It’s nice to see you figured out how to be normal so easily. I was worried it might be hard for you. I was wrong.”

His brow furrows. “Is that what you think?”

“Yes Dylan. I think you’ve figured it out, and you’re fine with your life the way it is. If I recall correctly, you said yourself that you couldn’t understand why Josh would give up a life like yours to be with little ole, very unspecial me.”

He leans in close to my ear. “The fact you can’t see how special you are, makes you even more so, Rusty. I think we need to talk, because you’re looking at this all wrong.”

“Am I? You’ve ignored me for the last two weeks, and seeing you with those girls, made me realize how much fun you were having. I think I’m looking at it just fine – I’m just not using naïve eyes anymore.”

He shakes his head. “Rusty, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, a tone of warning in his voice. Then his eyes cut to the side as he sees Josh heading back our way. “This isn’t over,” he says, before turning his attention to say hi to Josh.

“Oh yes it is,” I say, feeling proud of myself for being strong enough to call it like it is, and to realize a huge mistake when I see one.

For a while, I stand between Josh and Dylan as they catch up, my mind running through my mistakes and making me more annoyed at myself than anyone else. Feeling shitty, I excuse myself and take my drink over to Roxy. She’s standing by a table, tipping back a shot glass and moving to the music as she chats with some friends. When I arrive by her side, she readily welcomes me to the fold and once again tries to convince me that I need a tattoo.

Laughing, I just ignore it. Then the music changes, and Roxy gets all excited and says her friend is the DJ and drags me onto the dance floor. I purposely wore low-heeled shoes, because I’m not sporting my ankle support, and it feels so good to be moving to music. I let it roll through my body and dance to song after song, accepting the shots that George plies us with as we keep moving. Occasionally, I look over to where Josh is still talking to Dylan. They have their heads together, and while Josh keeps his eye on me and smiles when we make eye contact, I can’t help but feel really nervous about them being together. Especially when I see Dylan watching me too, his eyes seem dark and stormy. He’s annoyed with me after I was so rude to him before – I know he is. But he deserved it, right? He’s ignored me for two weeks, and then right in front of me, he let those girls drape themselves all over him. Better to put an end to this, before I make the mistake of leaving Josh for him, just to have him cheat on me with his bimbos because he can’t be tied down.

I try to focus on having fun, and being tiny, Roxy can put a surprising amount of alcohol into her system. I’m feeling woozy after four shots, so by the time I down the fifth, I’m surprised that she’s still going strong. If my ankle is hurting, I have no idea anymore. I’m just having a good time, dancing with my friend to music that really isn’t that bad once you get into it.

A pair of strong arms wrap around my waist, and I lean back into Josh’s chest as he murmurs something in my ear about what watching me dance is doing to his sex drive. I listen to his words nervously as my eyes move back to the spot where he was talking to Dylan earlier – to where Dylan is still standing, slowly sipping at a drink and watching me intently. A girl sidles up beside him, and I expect a repeat of the last time we were at a club, but when she reaches up to touch him, he moves out of the way, recoiling from her touch and shaking his head. Then he gives me a long intense look that makes me question everything all over again. God, why is this happening? He doesn’t want me – he wants a life of freedom, surely? This is his world. This is where he belongs. I’m just a visitor. There’s no way he’d want me here permanently. He’d grow tired of me like everyone else. It would only be a matter of time…

Turning in Josh’s arms, I try to turn my focus on him, but I can feel Dylan’s eyes, burning into my back. Why won’t he just go off with one of his floozies and let this go?

“I’m going to get another drink,” I yell up to Josh. “You want one?” I’m already feeling lightheaded from the shots, but I need to tell someone to keep his eyes to himself.

“Sure,” Josh replies, grabbing my face and planting his lips against mine, taking a passionate kiss.

There’s music in the air, but it’s not in our lips…

“Don’t take too long,” he grins. And I smile, my heart doing strange things in my chest. It’s confused. I’m confused. Even my thoughts are messed up.

“What are you doing?” I snap at Dylan, when I walk up to the bar. He takes a sip on a bottle of beer.

“Slowly having my heart ripped out of my chest,” he replies.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“Isn’t it? Kissing him in front of me isn’t to hurt me?”

“He’s kissing me, and no. It’s not. I just think…I’m not what you want, Dylan. I realize that now.”

He leans in close and talks directly in my ear. “You aren’t a want, Rusty. You’re a need.”

My heart skips a beat, and when a shot glass gets placed in front of me, I quickly pick it up and down its contents, even though I haven’t ordered yet.

“Hey!” the girl says beside me.

“Oh no! I’m sorry,” I say to the girl, fishing through my purse for the money to pay her back, before I order the drinks for Josh and me from the bartender. Dylan watches me bemusedly as I fumble with my purse, and I realize that my words aren’t quite as clear as I think they are. Holy crap, how did I get so drunk?

George and the shots!

“Oh, wow,” I say, my hand going up to my head as the room begins to spin. “I shouldn’t have had that last shot.”

I sway on my feet, and hear Dylan say something about water as Josh comes into view. That’s when I start to cry.

“Oh man, how much has she had to drink?” Josh asks, as we carry Avery out to my car. She started crying all of a sudden in the club then she leaned against Josh, moaning about how sorry she was. The poor guy looked so confused, and he just held onto her until she passed out. Now I’m helping him get her home. This is my fault. Maybe I gave her too much space. I made her think I didn’t care and…fuck, I have no idea what’s going through her head. I just know that this is messed up and I shouldn’t be feeling the way I do about another guy’s girl. But, I can’t seem to fucking help myself.

“I don’t know. She was dancing with Roxy, so who knows. Roxy can drink most guys I know under the table, so if she was drinking with her…”

I beep open my car and help Josh get her into the back. He slides in with her, and I hesitate for a moment, watching him place her head on his lap. It hurts to see this. It hurts to harbor these feelings. This hurts. This just hurts.

“I’ve got her,” Josh assures me when I continue to linger, reaching out to pull the door shut so I need to move out of the way. I walk around to the driver’s side and begin the trip home. We’re on the road for a while when Josh lets out a sigh. “Thanks for this, man. I know this isn’t exactly how any of us expected this night to go.”

“It’s no problem.”

“She hasn’t been out for a while. I guess the alcohol went to her head a bit.”

“Like, I said. It’s no problem, Josh, really.”

We make some small talk for the rest of the drive. He talks a bit about work, and I do the same, although I can tell his distracted by Avery lying passed out on his lap.

“God, I hope she doesn’t puke,” he says.

“Get enough of that at work, huh?” I say with a smile, trying to make light of it.

“Yeah. I could really do with a puke free twenty-four hours.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine. Probably just needs to sleep it off,” I say, as I pull up in front of the house and help him carry Avery upstairs to their room. We settle her on the bed, and I remove her shoes, noticing that the ankle she broke looks a little swollen. Reluctantly, I leave Josh alone with her, while I head downstairs to get an icepack, and some Tylenol and a glass of water. Then I take it all upstairs, place the pills and the water beside her, and the ice pack on her ankle.

“Good thinking,” Josh says, and I can’t help but notice that he’s changed her into an oversized shirt. I can see her dress and her bra discarded on the floor by the bed. I swallow hard, nod my head then mumble something about waiting downstairs, not wanting to face the fact that they’re a couple and Josh just had his hands on her body. Why does that make me feel insanely jealous? I know the score. I know how this is...

I sit in the dark and flick on the television, flicking channels mindlessly until I catch a scene from World War Z and stop channel surfing. Something about watching the zombie apocalypse is oddly soothing.

My leg bounces in agitation, and I wonder if Josh is going to stay up there with her, and if he is, what is he doing? Is he holding her? Is he stroking her hair? Did she wake up and he’s…I stop myself there because there’s no point in doing this to myself. I’m already worked up enough as it is after watching him kissing her tonight. It made me feel completely hopeless, and I hated it. That girl that is up there, should be mine. But, she isn’t mine. She’s still his…

A cold beer gets pressed against my shoulder, and I realize I’ve been staring at the television, raking my hand through my hair while gripping the TV remote with the other. I didn’t even hear Josh come back down.

“You and Avery are a match made in heaven,” he comments, shocking me to attention as I take a hold of the cold bottle.

“We…what?” I ask, my heart jumping to my throat in confusion (what the fuck did I just hear?).

He nods toward the television and takes a seat at the opposite end of the couch, picking up the remote I just released to take hold of the beer. “Avery loves these zombie things too. I don’t get the fascination.”

I take a mouthful of beer, feeling relieved that’s all he was talking about. I was worried she might have told him…

“You can change the channel if you want,” I say, taking another sip as I clear my throat.

He begins to flick through the channels as he drinks his beer thoughtfully, and I sit here, saying absolutely nothing because I’m suddenly feeling very confronted by the fact that I want the woman this man is in love with. What the fuck is wrong with me? What kind of a person am I, really? I thought I was fairly decent. I mean, I’ve always been honest with the girls I see and don't give them unrealistic expectations. I’m generally always there for my friends and normally, I’d never look twice at another man’s girl. But, then there’s Avery, and she seems to make me forget about all the rules.

“Do you think she’s happy?” he asks suddenly, and I look at him, my mouth open slightly, not sure if I want to have this conversation when I’m thinking about Avery the way I am.

“What do you mean?” I ask cautiously.

He stops flicking the channels and hits the mute button before he drops the remote on the couch and scratches at the back of his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t think she’s happy. She hasn’t been able to dance since she broke her ankle, and I’m trying to fill the void as much as I can, but I’m working all the time. And I know you’ve been trying to keep her company, and I really appreciate that you’ve stepped up to help out, instead of leaving her cooped up in this house on her own all day…” He pauses for a moment, obviously thinking. Then he shakes his head. I just don’t think she’s happy here. I shouldn’t have made her move away from everything to be with me. It was selfish. And because of my desire to keep her with me, she hurt herself and can’t do the one thing that really makes her shine. I’d thought that when she got the cast off, things would start to look up. But, I think she thought she’d be able to go straight back to dancing the way she always did. I don’t think she realized it would take time to build her strength back up, and it’s like she’s going into some sort of depression because of it. I feel like this is somehow my fault for bringing her here, but I don’t know how to help her.” He turns to me, worry in his eyes. I feel as though my guilt is written all over my face, and I have trouble looking at him. “You’ve spent time with her. Has she said anything to you about what’s going on in her head?”

There’s this ball of pressure building in my chest as I listen to him speak about his relationship trouble, and I know that I’m the cause of a lot of it. I don’t know what to say to him. How can I counsel a man about his girl when I want to steal her from him? How can I sit here and act like a friend when really, I’m the devil in disguise – a wolf in sheep’s clothing. If you Googled ‘world’s shittiest friend’ right now, I feel sure my name would be the first one to appear in the results.

I shake my head, clearing my throat just so I can breathe through the pressure on my chest. “She’ll come around, man. I’m sure she’ll be fine,” I say to placate him, before I tip my beer back and drain the contents. Fuck, I’m an asshole.

“I hope so. I just don’t know what to do to help her.”

Twisting my now empty beer bottle around in my hands, I watch the last drops of amber, roll around the base of it. I should tell him what’s going on. I should just get it out in the open so we can deal with it. But, it will fuck everyone up, and we’ll probably all lose. Then we’d all be alone. I don’t want to be alone anymore…

I lean forward and place the empty on the coffee table before I speak. “Just love her, man. I’m sure she doesn’t want to feel like this either. Just try to understand what she’s going through. That’s really all anyone can do.”

***