Every. Fucking. Glorious. Second.
Finnley grabs the refilled shot glass I started to reach for and moves it out of my way. “Yep, you’re cut off. When you can’t even properly explain how much you hate someone, you’ve had enough to drink.”
I close my eyes and the room starts to spin, so I immediately open them. “You don’t understand, Finn.”
She rubs her hand on my back and nods. “You had sex with DJ. Now you’re drowning your sorrows because, instead of fucking the guy over for what he did when he was young and dumb, you just fucked him. And you liked it.”
She wags her eyebrows and laughs while I sit on the barstool, staring at her in shock. There’s no way she knows I had sex with DJ. I tried not to hobble when I walked in here and I grit my teeth whenever I cross my legs instead of moaning in a mixture of pleasure and pain. I asked him to give it to me hard and that man sure did deliver, Jesus Christ.
“Close your mouth, you’re catching flies,” Finnley giggles. “Did you honestly think you could hide something like that from your best friend? Besides, I saw you disappear into the locker room after DJ went in there and when you came out, your skirt was twisted around backwards and you had messy sex hair.”
I try to smack her in the arm, but the liquor running through my body makes the appendage feel like a wet noodle and I just sloppily paw at her.
“I hate him for what he did to me back then,” I tell her.
“I think you hated him back then. I KNOW you hated him back then, but he’s a different person now, Phee. I think you’ve seen just how different he is and you just hate the fact that you DON’T really hate him.”
What she’s saying would make sense if I were sober, but all I hear are words, words, words and none of them make me happy.
“I see the way you look at him when you think no one is watching and I also see how protective he is of you, especially after we told him about your dad. I know you’re pissed we told him, but he had every right to know since he got a note, too. Why is it so hard for you to just let him in?” She asks softly.
I glare at her. “You know exactly why.”
Well, not exactly, but she knows enough.
“Hon, you were both kids when that shit happened. It’s not like he did it on purpose just to fuck with you. He was so drunk that, if I remember correctly, you were even having second thoughts about going into that bedroom with him. It’s been fifteen years, Phee. You can’t keep hating someone for something they don’t even know they did.”
“I thought you were on my side?” I argue.
“I AM on your side, but when you’re acting like an idiot, I’m going to call you on your shit. Be honest with yourself at least. You don’t hate him and that’s what’s pissing you off most right now. I know the shit with your dad is making you crazy and I get it, even though you’ve been keeping secrets from me. I know you didn’t have a good life growing up, but you’ve made something of yourself. You’re a strong, independent woman, but that doesn’t mean you can’t lean on someone every once in a while. Especially a hot guy who looks at you like you’re the sun in his sky.”
Oh Jesus, now she’s becoming a poet.
Reaching around her, I grab the shot glass she stole from me and down it quickly, letting the burn of the tequila numb me so I don’t have to think about my shitty childhood or being the fucking sun in anyone’s sky. I’m not a bright shining light, I’m a cloud of doom and gloom that rains on everyone’s parade.
“DJ took my virginity and didn’t even remember it the morning after. I’m sorry, how is it possible NOT to hate someone for that shit?”
Finnley opens her mouth to reply and then quickly covers it with her hand as she looks over my shoulder. I don’t need to turn around to know DJ is standing right behind me. Even if Finnley didn’t look like a ghost just magically appeared behind me, I can smell him. He took a shower after that whole locker room incident and I can smell his soap and shampoo. He smells clean and fresh and like the most delicious man in the world. Obviously, he felt dirty after our little rendezvous and needed to rid his body of the uncleanliness that is me.
“What. In. The. Fuck?” DJ shouts over the blare of a rock song from the jukebox.
Twisting around on the chair, I try not to let the sight of DJ with hair still damp from the shower and his smell turn me into a pile of mush.
“You. Suck,” I tell him, punctuating each word with my finger in his chest.
He quickly grabs my finger and pulls my body towards him. I slide right off of the stool, my feet slamming to the ground and my chest colliding with his.