Page 44 of Not Falling for the Forward
“If he’s getting off with other people, better believe you are. I’ll pick you up when I finish work.”
***
It’s eleven thirty p.m. and there are three missed calls on my phone and seven unread messages, each preview on my home screen seeming to be getting more and more panicked.
I should probably text him back to let him know I’m okay, but I’m seven cocktails and who knows how many shots down and I’m fuckingpiiiiissedat him.
Besides, I’m being kept company by a lovely brunette gentleman that I am thirty-five percent sure is called Alex, sixty-two percent sure works for some kind of finance or marketing company and one hundred percent sure looks nothing like Jack. He’s tall, likeJack—eugh—but that’s where the resemblance stops, tanned skin, dark eyes and hair and not a tattoo in sight. Perfect.
Jess called him over about an hour ago when she noticed my peeking in my bag to maybe answer one of Jacks calls and since then he has been talking at me about a podcast he wants to start about achieving your goals through mindset or whatever bullshit people listen to now-a-days.I haven’t really been listening, which doesn’t bode well for his podcast.“So yeah, anyway, what do you do?” Maybe-Alex asks.
“I’m a nurse,” I smile.
“Oh wow, so you can look after me when I’m sick?” I internally cringe at the statement. Grown men always want to be babied.
I smile and nod, “Apparently so. Should we go and dance?” I ask before he says anything else that gives me the ick.
“Sure.” He jumps up and grabs my hand leading us to the dance floor. He’s actually not a bad dancer. His hands roam my hips and waist but never go further down as he pulls me closer and we sway to the beat. I lock my arms around his neck and press my body into his. His chest against my breasts, his hips against mine as we all but grind against each other. Being this close to him makes me think of the last time I was this close to someone, in a conference room of a football ground, and the fact that the person I was close to then was up close and personal with someone else not twelve hours ago.
Anger spikes through my veins and that mixed with the alcohol has me pulling Alex’s (?) face towards mine. Our lips meet and his mouth immediately opens, his tongue invading mine. It’s sloppy, washing machine style kissing and it’s doing absolutely nothing for me. That doesn’t stop me from pulling him closer and trying to take the lead. His hands roam down to cup my ass. It feels dirty and not in a good way.
I push against his chest and he releases my mouth in favour of my neck, kissing down to my shoulder. I let him. Holding his shoulders as his mouth roams.
His hands firmly grip my ass, squeezing it almost painfully.
This isn’t right.What am I doing?
“No,” I say as I push against his shoulders hard. He fully backs off, raising his hands in surrender.
“Sorry, I thought you were into it,” he says taking a step back.
I shake my head, “No, it’s not you,” I say, even though it absolutely is.
I don’t want to be kissing this random stranger in a bar at gone midnight on a Saturday night. I want to be kissing someone else. Except he wants to kiss other people, outside hotels where he probably fucked them.This is so messed up.
Nausea courses through me suddenly. I put one hand over my mouth and push my way through the crowd and off the dance floor. On my knees in the bathroom stall I puke up the alcohol I have consumed and the taste of Alex—if that is even his name.
What the fuck am I doing?
***
Jack
A taxi parks up, and I see her step out, heels in hand.
“So, you are alive?” I say from where I am leaned against my rental car on her driveway. I’m both relieved and furious to see her.
After my game today I saw the article posted about me and Sam. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together as to why she was ignoring my calls and messages. So, I decided to rent a car and drive back from London early to explain. I tried calling her a few more times on the way but there was no answer. I arrived around nine thirty p.m. expecting to catch Emily before she went to bed. I don’t expect her to not have a social life and be home all the time, but she had complained to me earlier in the week that she finally had a full weekend off and all her friends were working so what was the point. So yes, I was a little worried to get here and her be out. So, I tried to call her again, she didn’t answer. So, I decided to wait.
I wasn’t expecting it to get past one a.m. and for her to be getting out of a taxi, hammered. Come to think of it, I didn’t think a lot about what I would do if she hadn’t come home at all tonight. I just hoped that she would.
“Oh look, if it isn’t Casanova himself,” Emily says waving her shoes at me as she walks up the drive.
“Good night?” I ask, looking her up and down. She is in a tight red dress cut so it just covers her tight ass with a neckline that leaves little to the imagination. Her hair is straight down her back and sways on her hips as she takes each step. Fucking stunning.
“Fruitful,” she slurs as she struggles to put her key in the door, missing the lock by millimetres each try. “Pesky.” She waggles her finger at the offending door. I take her keys off her and put them in the lock first try. “Show off,” she says and faces me. Her mascara has run under her eyes, and her lipstick is smudged as if she has been kissed tonight. Fire floods my system at the intrusive thought, and I have to take a deep breath to steady my skyrocketing pulse.
She stands there staring at me for a minute, taking in my face. “Why are you here, Jack?”
