“Gee, thanks. Funny way of showing it.”
I roll my eyes; “Listen, Ray-”
“Can we go please?” She looks at me sharply; “I’ve got a date waiting for me.”
I freeze; “Excuse me?”
She taps her heeled foot on the ground; “I said can we go.”
“You know what I mean, that second fucking part.” I growl.
She smiles at me, as if she know’s she’s just scored a hit on me; “My date, Hudson. Chet’s waiting for me.”
I can feel my blood pressure jump through my skull as I grind my teeth and clench my fists. I know exactly what she’s doing, but the shittiest part is, it’s working.
“You’re dating Chet again?”
She shrugs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world; like last night never happened. I can still imagine the way her lips felt wrapping around my cock, or the way her hair smelled and the way her skin felt so warm and alive when she slid down onto me. I’m instantly thinking how it incredible she felt rocking up and down on top of me, and the sounds of her cries as she came. And suddenly, I’m rock-hard inside my pants, which is thoroughly confusing with the angry scowl she’s giving me in our current situation. All I want to do is kiss her hard right here in the doorway. I want to shove her up against the door, lift up that teeny little black dress she’s wearing and remind her exactly how good last night felt since she’s clearly pretending to have forgotten.
“Reagan can we just fucking talk about this like adults instead of acting like children?”
She stares daggers into my eyes; “I am acting like an adult, Hudson. Now can we please go so I can get on with being an adult with my date?”
Chet, who I get to fucking drive her to. Who I get to watch her moon over all night at this stupid fucking ‘gala’ while everyone fawns over the two of them and takes their pictures and tells them what an incredible ‘power-couple’ they are. In recovery and in the program, they talk about “relapse triggers” like ”feelings of frustration,” or “expecting too much of other people.” If you can ball every single one of those triggers into one damn thing, it’s called “Chet Kennedy’s stupid fucking gala event that I have to take Reagan to.”
I’m furious; raging inside like a bomb about to explode. But I swallow it, all of it, as I look at her sharply; “Fine. Let’s go.”
This is fucking ridiculous.
20
Reagan
P A S T
“Hang on, are you serious?” Quinn glances at Chelsea, and they both turn to look at me skeptically.
“Yeah, I’m serious.” I roll my eyes at them, “What, you don’t think I can do it?”
“Oh, no, it’s not that Ray!” Chelsea says quickly, shaking her head; “It’s just, uh, I mean it’s just that you’re-”
“You’re twenty-two, Reagan.” Quinn says evenly, frowning slightly.
“So?”
She rolls her eyes; “Ok, you’re twenty-two, and you have zero political experience. That might be a problem here.”
“Quinn, I do have a degree in political science, and I’ve spent the last two years working with Chet on his campaign stuff.”
Quinn snorts and Chelsea opens and closes her mouth quickly as if she’s trying to figure out what to say to that.
“OK, OK, laugh it up, I know. Chet’s…Chet, but the experience with the campaign is real, guys. It - I don’t know - it got me moving and got me thinking about stuff like I never have.”
“But Ray, the Senate?” Chelsea looks worried.
“State Senate, but yeah.” I shrug; “If you’re gonna dream, dream big right?”
Quinn grins; “You’re actually going to do this, aren’t you?” I nod and she rolls her eyes; “You’re fucking insane, you know that right?”
“Well, with endorsements like that!” Chelsea laughs and turns to look at me; “So when do we start?”
P R E S E N T
“So I told you about getting my amateur pilot’s license, right?” I raise my eyebrows towards Chet, nodding as I plaster a dopey, fake smile across my face. I’m not really listening to a word he says though, since I’m concentrating on not looking at the scowling Hudson standing right there with us. Hudson who’s alternating between rolling his eyes at practically everything Chet says and glowering at me every time I very purposely laugh at it.
I might be laughing on the outside, but inside I’m scowling just as hard as he is now; I mean where the fuck does he get off being so possessively alpha about me talking with Chet when he’s the one that had Samantha and her tits hanging off of him barely hours after we’d slept together. It’s classic fucking Hudson, I grumble inside. But if anything, I’m more scared than pissed, as much as I don’t want to admit it. In fact, I’m doing my damnedest to ignore it, since I’m scared what me being jealous of Hudson with another girl really means, especially after what I talked about with Quinn and Chelsea.