Page 98 of Habits

Putting her phone back in the bag, Brook looks at me.

“Who asked for your opinion?”

“Nobody.” She shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to give one.”

For somebody who was dancing her drunken ass away just a few minutes ago, she seems like she sobered up pretty quickly.

“Well can you give it to somebody who might actually want it?”

“Nope. Look, I’m not even going to try to act like I know what’s going on between you and Jeanette …”

“What’s the point of this conversation again?”

Brook gives me a stern look. “But you better get your shit in order and stop playing games.”

“I’m not playing any games.”

“No?” One shaped brow lifts in question. “What was that scheme with Diamond then?”

“You’re delusional.”

I start to turn around, done with this conversation, but her hand on my wrist stops me. For a small thing, Brook Taylor sure has a strong grip and big attitude.

“Am I really?”

I let my mind go back. I was drinking with the guys, still pissed off that Jeanette didn’t answer any of my texts, although I’m the one who threw her out.

I said I was sorry. Doesn’t that count for shit?

Just as I was ready to get drunk and forget about everything, Jeanette entered the room in her short, flirty dress. She was talking to Brook, laughing and drinking, like everything was completely fine.

Why is she fine when I’m anything but?

Jeanette has me all twisted up from the inside out, and yet she’s therelaughing. So of course when Diamond came to me, being her flirty, needy self, I didn’t tell her to fuck off and leave me alone. Not initially anyway.

I let her get close to me, let her flirt and maybe even flirted back. Hoping, no, not hoping,wantingJeanette to see us. Wanting to make her feel all those feeling she’s stirring up inside of me. Fifty shades of confused and fucked up.

“Fuuuuuck.” I cover my face with hands, rubbing hard.

“Mhmm.” Brook pats me on my back. “You’re a dick, Andrew. And although some habits do die hard, you’ll have to do better than that. Stop playing your games and get your shit under control. Then you might have an actual shot. God help us all.”

Her hand falls from my back, and I can hear her heels clicking as she walks down the stairs.

“You think you’re so much better than me?” I call after her, a part of me not wanting to let her have the last word.

“Not really, but if you can get your shit under control, maybe there’s hope for the rest of us.”

As her words hang in the air, I watch her walk away, my mind more confused than ever.

Jeanette

After my drunken striptease debacle, I don’t just wake up with a hangover, I wake up with a hangover and the flu.

My head is pounding, my throat is like the driest of deserts but at the same time pulsing and burning strongly. I can barely cough properly, and my whole body hurts when I do. And don’t even get me started on trying to talk. I can barely open my mouth without my throat hurting, so speaking is out of the question.

Most of the night I spent either throwing up or hanging over a bucketthinkingI was going to throw up, so I’m not really surprised when I wake up and it’s already late afternoon.

There are a bunch of notifications on my phone, but I’m not interested in any of them. I swipe my thumb over the screen, removing everything, but one particular message catches my eye.

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