Page 88 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
We both laughed.
A drunk guy stumbled into us, and my arm shot out to steady him and gave him a shove in the opposite direction before he knocked Evie over.
“You ready to get out of here?” All I wanted was to get her home in my bed, just the two of us.
“More than ready.”
I took her hand and weaved through the crowd to get to the door. Her hand slipped from my grasp, and I turned to look for her.
Undead Kurt Cobain in a ripped T-shirt, ripped jeans, and Army boots had stopped her.
I moved to Evie’s side just as Kurt the Douche said, “Damn, you look hot tonight. We should hook up.”
“She’s with me.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She leaned into my side and put her hand on my chest, making it clear that we were a couple.
“Hey, man, I’m Trevor. Evie and I used to hang together.” He flashed her a smile. “We had some good times together, am I right?”
“I’m surprised you remember,” Evie said.
“How could I forget you? You’re my muse. Every song was for you,” Kurt the Douche said. “We’re playing tonight. You should stick around for the show. We wrote some new stuff that I think you’ll love.”
I didn’t like the guy. And I didn’t like the idea of him having ‘good times’ with Evie. And I sure as hell didn’t like the memory of her telling me he was twice the man I was. I could snap his pencil neck like a twig, but I decided to take the high road.
She was with me, not him. I won, he lost. That was all the revenge I needed.
“We were just leaving.” I steered Evie toward the door.
“Hey, Evie. Call me when you get tired of the dumb jock,” Trevor yelled.
Fucking asshole. My shoulders tensed, and I gritted my teeth, but it wasn’t worth fighting over. I was just going to let it go. Let it slide off my back. But Evie stopped short and spun around.
“Evie, come on. Let’s go.” I grabbed her and tried to usher her out the door.
“And let that go? No way.” She marched over to the douche and planted her hands on her hips. “What did you say?”
He glanced at me with a smirk, then back at her. “He doesn’t seem like your type. You always said you hated jocks. Especially dumb ones. Can he quote Kerouac? Has he ever read a book? We had a good thing, Evie. What we had was heavy, deep, and real. You were the inspiration for all my music.”
“You’re an asshole, Trevor. Quoting Kerouac is pretentious. And what we had was not good or deep or real. What I had with you doesn’t even come close to what I have with him.” She pointed at me, her green eyes blazing, and I don’t think she’d ever looked more beautiful. So fierce. I would have stepped in, but she looked like she had it under control. Besides, I was curious to hear what she had to say.
“He’s real, and he’s good, and he’s honest. He treats me with respect which is more than I can say about you. And oh yeah, your music sucks, and his dick….” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Is waaay bigger than yours.”
I snort-laughed. But then I realized that she’d just compared our dicks which meant she’d been up close and personal with him. And that pissed me off. I’d never been jealous before, but here we were.
“Fuck you,” he yelled as she walked away. Because he was that fucking original.
I stayed silent on the walk to my truck.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked finally.
I shook my head.
“Why are you being so quiet?”
I shrugged like the dumb jock that I was. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Jealousy, I guess, but it felt like it went deeper than that. We stopped next to my truck, but I didn’t unlock the doors. “He wrote songs for you?”
“He wrote songs for a lot of girls.”
“That’s not how it sounded.”
