Page 53 of Exrated
“My life—it’s fucking hilarious.”
“Really? Drunk epiphany?”
“Yeah. I get a part on a kid’s show. A part I hated by the way. I start dating this rocker, end up getting fired because of dating him—”
“Good video by the way.” I wink.
“Oh, fuck off.” She swats at me, but misses. “Have you Googled your name lately? At least mine was real and not full of cheesy lines. ‘Take it,'” she deepens her voice in an attempt to sound like a man. “Take my massive cock.” She laughs. “Oh,” now she’s adopted this high-pitched, breathy tone to her voice. “Oh, Johnny. Go Deeper, Johnny Depth. Plunder my booty Captain Jack Spermo.” She has to stop because she’s giggling so hard she can’t catch a good breath.
“Oh, so I see you’ve been watching my videos. A closet fan, are we?”
“Oh, it’s comedy relief for me.”
I glare at her.
“Anyway. The fact that I was out, in a bar, with a herd of porn starsandpeople actually came up and recognized you.” She shakes her head. “Unbelievable. Oh, and let’s not forget, you are my ex. Fucking x-rated. Oh, this shit isex-rated, alright.”
“And now who is using cheesy lines?” I chuckle.
She pulls in a few breathes before tossing her head against the back of the seat. “Life is weird, huh?”
“Yeah. It is.”
We sit in silence for a few moments. I stare at her, watching the street lights bounce off her high cheekbones. Jemma is stunning, and those obvious things, the beautiful things anyone in their right fucking mind couldn’t miss, of course, I love those, but it’s the other things, her little quirks, her flaws that make her who she—that’s what I can’t get over. There is something so deeply woven into her that I find irresistible. It’s the way she snorts when she fucking laughs. The way her eye twitches when she gets angry. That scar on her knee from where she fell off her bike when we were kids. Her confidence and insecurities. The way she makes me feel like nothing else in this world matters but her.
Any girl can be pretty. Any girl can be sweet. But only Jemma can be Jemma.
“I regret it,” I blurt out without realizing it.
“What?” She looks at me. “You regret what?”
“The past four years.”
A soft smile tugs at her lips. Her gaze drops to her lap, and she begins fiddling with her purse.
“All those years…” I pause because I’m drunk. She’s drunk. And drunk confessions can lead to some awkward moments once everyone’s sobered up, but I don’t fucking care. I just want to tell her. “All of those years of growing up together, I never missed anything, and now, I feel like I’ve missed everything because I have.”
She doesn’t look up and for a moment I worry it was too much. “Tyler,” she exhales. “People grow up. They drift apart.”
“People do. We shouldn’t have though.”
“What do you think would have happened had we stayed together?”
I shrug. “Well, I sure as hell wouldn’t be Johnny Depth.”
She smiles and God, I want to fucking slam my mouth over hers right now. When the car rattles over a speed bump, I realize we’ve pulled up in front of her apartments. The brakes squeak as the cab rolls to a stop.
She reaches for the door. I want to grab her and pin her down on the seat. I want to make her feel what she does to me. I want to show her why we shouldn’t have drifted apart. I want to fuck myself so deep inside of her that she can’t shake me from her thoughts.
She pushes the door open. “Goodnight. Thanks for making sure I didn’t get murdered.” She laughs as she closes the door.
I am just as fucked as I was all those years ago when I was a zit-faced kid trying to figure out how to make her date me. Except this time, it’s a clusterfuck.
I shut the door behind me—softly, but Heather still hears it and sits bolt upright on the couch.
“Wha the fu…” She rubs her eyes and glares at me before looking at her phone. “One forty-five? You fucked him, didn’t you?” She tosses the throw off her lap.
“No.”
