Page 1 of Crave

CHAPTER 1

JAKE

I remove the arm thrown possessively across my torso as I climb out of the queen sized bed I keep in one of my guest bedrooms. To quicken the stranger’s departure, I open the curtains and turn on the bedroom lights before I walk into the adjoining bathroom, hopefully jolting her awake with the hard slam of the door.

I look at my haggard and disheveled reflection in the mirror. My brown hair is a wild mess on top of my head and my beard is in desperate need of a trim, but I’m not ready to deal with any of that right now. All I can do now is splash cold water on my face.

Memories of last night come rushing back. I remember getting a call from my friend and meeting at a bar on Commonwealth Ave. That was the first of many bars we visited that night. My attempts to forget about tonight’s party got the better of me, and I drank more than usual.

The more I drank, the more rounds I bought; the result of which is the woman sound asleep in the guest bedroom.

“Fuck.” I hold my head in both hands and pull on my hair, disgusted with myself. I never bring women home. In fact, I haven’t hooked up with anyone in months, and whenever I do hook up, it’s never under the influence of too much alcohol. Now, I have to deal with whoever the fuck that is in my bed. Olivia? Olive? I know it’s something that begins with the letter O. Despite the alcohol in my system, I was still coherent enough to not to bring her into my bedroom.

I return to the bedroom to find the woman still sound asleep in the middle of the bed, but the scratching on the bedroom door reminds me of my other obligations. I open the door and both dogs come running in, heading straight for the bed. I’d normally admonish them for jumping on it, but this time I allow it. Zeus, my bullmastiff starts to sniff as Lady, my poodle, yanks the covers off with her teeth, revealing a pale, naked redhead.

I must have been really drunk because this woman, whoever she is, is not my type. The fact that I can see the outline of her ribs means she might only eat once a week. Her skin is so pale, it looks unhealthy, and her shade of red hair can only be found in a bottle. She lets out a loud shriek when Zeus starts to lick her face. In her haste to get off the bed, she falls and lands on her bony ass. Lady starts to bark at the unwelcome stranger.

“What the fuck, dude?” she says to me, her voice hoarse from sleep.

“Time to go, sweetheart.” I use the term of endearment to mask the fact that I can’t remember her name. “I need to take care of the dogs. Get dressed.” Articles of her clothes are thrown around the room. I pick them up and toss them to her, signaling her to hurry up and dress.

“Can you give me a ride?”

“How the fuck did we get here?” I know I didn’t drive last night. I never drive on nights when I let loose.

“Uber,” she says as she throws on her very short dress.

“Where do you live?” I ask, having no intentions of driving her anywhere.

“Brookline.” Definitely not happening since I live about ten miles south.

“Punch in your address. Your ride home is on me. Thanks for a great night.” I doubt the night was great, and judging by her scrawny frame, I’m relieved I can’t remember. I just want her gone now.

After she keys in her address, she dresses, and I escort her out to wait for the car.

“Thanks for a great night, Olivia.”

“It’s Olympia, asshole,” she says as she grabs the door handle, closing the door in my face.

I stand at the end of my driveway and watch as the car and Olympia disappear from sight, relieved.

After walking and feeding the dogs, I head into my bathroom to wash last night away.

I walk through my house, a three bedroom ranch I inherited from my grandparents on my twenty-fifth birthday. Before that, I had an apartment in the city, but the one condition of inheriting this house was that I had to move into it. It’s not enough that I work at my father’s company. I also had to move back to the town where I grew up. The town where my parents and most of my family still live.

I shake the thought out of my head. It is bad enough I have to be under the same roof as Troy Clark on my day off, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of taking over my thoughts as well.

I focus on watering my plants instead of my problems. I start in the living room, taking care of my favorite plant, my fiddle leaf fig tree, but get distracted by my vibrating phone.

“What the fuck happened last night, JD? I woke up to some scrawny redhead named Olympia. You know I don’t do redheads or anorexics.”

I hear Jason, my best friend since our first day as freshmen at Boston College, sigh into the phone. “I figured you were just looking for a quick fuck, man.”

“Hardly, but it looks like I went slumming last night. I can’t remember shit that happened once we hit that last club. You at the hospital, Dr. JD?” I use the nickname given to him by my mother.

“Yeah. Just checking in on your drunk ass real quick. You know you don’t have the best track record with women,” he says. I hear him whisper an expletive under his breath, probably realizing his slip of the tongue.

“No shit, Sherlock. I guess they don’t have sensitivity training in med school. No wonder everyone thinks all doctors are assholes.” I try to laugh it off. “You sure you can’t come tonight? My mom keeps asking about your dumb ass.”

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