Page 51 of Dirty Martini
“Gladly,” he snarls, flipping me off as he stalks out, making sure to slam my door as he leaves.
My chest heaves as I sit on my bed, all the bliss from my orgasm snatched out of the air. Thoughts swirl, all the reminders of how I’m not good enough, smart enough, or talented enough. Thoughts about how I’m not the one people will choose first, not when they have Elton as an option.
I hate the tears that spill down my cheeks as I take my last pillow and hug it to my chest. I look at the textbook sitting on the desk and know it’s pointless. I’m just going to fail like I do everything else. Let down Mom and Dad by not getting into an Ivy League school. Let down Elton by not talking to him. Let down Rhys by…I guess just being myself.
So, instead, I cry, trying to forget about the fact that I may be as pathetic as Rhys thinks.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Rhys
“It’s my birthday, bitches!”
Cheers erupt all around us as patrons of the bar congratulate Skylar. He’s standing on one of the tables at Jolly’s, a tiara firmly planted on his head as he wiggles his hips to the beat of the country song in the background, all our coworkers clapping and cheering him on.
I don’t normally go out with them, but Skylar guilt tripped me into coming tonight. He said his special birthday wish was to hang out with me, which seems like a definite lie since he’s three sheets to the wind and probably not even sure what his own name is now. But it’s not too terrible since it has let me forget all about that disastrous encounter with Everest a few days ago.
Well,almostforget.
It’s impossible to erase from my mind the way he’s been actively ignoring me. I haven’t seen him much, but the few times I have, it’s obvious he’s still pissed off about what I said. Still, underneath all that, it’s hard to hide the way his vulnerability peeks out and lets me know just how much my words hurt him.
“Have a drink!” Skylar tells me as he hops off the table, knocking me out of my thoughts. “Consider it a birthday present to me to loosen you up!”
I smile but shake my head. I barely drink and everyone knows that. Especially since I’m driving, I plan to stay sober. “No thanks, man.”
Cassius smirks at his best friend, looping his arms around his waist until he falls into his lap. “Leave him alone, sunshine,” he mumbles in his ear, petting his stomach gently. “Be lucky he even showed up.”
Skylar pouts but relents with a roll of his eyes, hopping off Cassius’s lap. “Fine. Just means more shots for me!”
Britt slides into the open spot they just left next to me, handing me some water as she nibbles on her straw. “Way to be a buzzkill tonight.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I joke, nudging her right back. “I’m the life of the party.”
She gives me a pointed look. “Sure. We’re going to play some pool. Are you going to join us?”
I look over to the table where Cassius and Skylar already are, both of them too close to each other, hovering like they share the same center of gravity. Skylar is leaning on the pool table, still dancing to the beat of the music in the background, and Cassius has him caged with both arms on either side of him. Shit, I can’t imagine that Skylar can’t see the utter devotion in his best friend’s eyes, the way he looks at him like he’s his everything.
It only lasts a second until Ricky, Skylar’sactualboyfriend, walks through the door. Immediately, Skylar breaks away from Cassius, squealing as he meets Ricky halfway. Ricky barks something at him, and there’s a flash of hurt in Skylar’s eyes before he grabs his hand and leads him toward the pool table.
I shake my head. “Ricky’s an asshole. I’d rather not be around that.”
“Yeah, well, you know how Skylar picks them,” Britt says with a shrug. She squeezes my shoulder before getting up. “If you change your mind, you can join mine and Cass’s team.”
I give her a quick nod as she walks away. Snagging my phone out of my pocket, I flip through my messages, and it takes me a second to realize that I’m checking if Everest has texted me.What the fuck?I fucking hate it, but it doesn’t stop me from practically pouting when I see I have zero new messages. Seriously, what I said wasn’t that bad, right? We’ve said worse shit to each other… Can’t he just get over it?
I sound like an asshole, but it’s better than acknowledging that his current state—all mopey and silent—is pulling at my fucking heartstrings. It’s too similar to the feeling I had when he was younger, and all I wanted to do was take care of him. I have to remember that I might be fucking him, but he isn’t my friend. If he wants to quietly bitch and pout because he can’t handle a little tough love, then that’s fine by me.
But was it tough love or were you just cruel?
I bat that thought away. Cruel is my defense mechanism because letting Everest fuck with my head isn’t going to end well for either of us and that’s exactly what he did. After he practically choked me on his cock, he acted so sweet and tender. Telling me I did a good job, asking if I was okay, it triggered me. My automatic reaction was to lash out because I didn’t like all the conflicting emotions I felt at his kindness. It made me feel…seen, I guess? Important? Special in a moment that I needed reassurance the most.
I fucking hated it.
I leave it at that, pocketing my phone so I’m not tempted to check it again. Thankfully, Butch slides in beside me, taking up the majority of the booth with his massive body. He’s not drinking either, holding a Coke instead of beer, and he gives me a curious look. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, drinking some water to see if it’ll make me any less flustered. “I’m fine.”
He raises an eyebrow as his eyes wander down to where I put my phone away. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
