Page 87 of Between Now and Forever

“You’re a pig,” she finishes for me and then bursts into tears.

I watch, slightly aghast as she drops back onto my bed and starts to sob.

“Uhhh, Chloe. What’s going on?”

I know she’s annoyed, but this is a girl who came home with me after a fifteen-minute chat in the staff lounge. People who do things like that—people like me—don’t usually cry when it’s time to say goodbye.

“I expected better from you. Tonight was supposed to be special, you know. We went all the way and I thought it would mean more to you.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask her, alarm rising.

She dissolves into tears again and I watch her, completely confused and a little scared.

How much did I have to drink? Do I have amnesia? She’s talking and crying like we exchanged vows, but I could have sworn I only met her last night.

I look around for my phone, in case I need to call the police.

“I thought you were different,” she yells and then starts to cry even harder. Every few seconds she stops crying long enough to call me a vile name, and after two full minutes of indulging this shit, my patience is wearing thin.

I sit up and put my joint down.

“Listen, Chloe, I understand that you’re upset that things went down this way. But, I didn’t promise you anything. I didn’t force you to come back to my place—”

“But you’re Jackson’s brother. I was hoping, you know…that maybe you’d be like him,” she says mournfully as she walks over to my dresser and starts to brush her hair.

My buzz is gone and my annoyance is rising by the minute.

“I mean, obviously, I’ve never actually met him, but I watch Docked religiously and I feel like I know him. And I thought…"

“Thought what?”

“Why are you so angered by that? You should be proud of him. I’m jealous of Veronica, I would give my left tit to be her.”

And just like that, the nice little buzz I was enjoying disappears. The last shred of my patience is gone.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” I mutter. I can’t believe shit like this is still happening.

“Huh?” she asks, without turning to look at me, still brushing her hair.

I pretend I didn’t hear her.

“Nothing. So, you came home with me because—”

“You’re his brother.” She says like it should be painfully obvious.

“And you wanted to meet him. And you slept with me so that you could?” I keep my voice as steady as I can.

She shakes her head.

“Well, no. I do like you. You’re hot, you play the piano like a dream. You’re not Jackson, but you’re no slouch, either.”

“Wow, thanks,” I say dryly.

She walks back over to the bed where I’m sitting and sits next to me.

“Sure. Hey. I’m sorry. Listen, I didn’t just want to sleep with you. I asked around before I approached you. Everyone says you’re a nice guy.”

“Oh, do they?” I say and smile like I’m pleasantly surprised.

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