The Duet(58)

He shook his head and laughed. “Let’s go.”

Somehow, Derek managed to get me out of the bar even though I insisted that Paulo really wanted me to come and say bye to him. I even shouted out to him, but Derek kept pushing me out the door, apologizing to everyone as we went.

“He’s not sorry, because I’m awesome!” I yelled right before the door closed behind us.

“That doesn’t even make sense, Brooklyn,” Derek laughed.

He opened the passenger door for me because Derek was a gentlemen. A cowboy gentlemen with big muscles and a nice smile. I couldn’t remember why I didn’t go for Derek. Probably because he wasn’t Jason. Jason was everything. Derek was… I felt sick.

I slept most of the way home but stirred awake when he turned onto the uneven gravel drive. Derek moved to carry me to the house, but I guffawed (yes, guffawed) and hopped out of the truck by myself. I would have promptly eaten shit had Derek not been there to steady me. The porch light flipped on, and a second later, I heard the sound of the dead bolt turning and the front door opening.

There, silhouetted in the darkness, stood Jason. His arms were crossed and his dark eyebrows were tugged together.

“Uh oh, Mr. GrumpyGus looks mad,” I said, trying to catch my footing on the loose gravel. Why did the ground keep shifting out from underneath me?

Derek didn’t think that was funny, and neither did Jason. Tough crowd.

“She had a few Coronas. I didn’t realize what a lightweight she was,” Derek explained, as if he was trying to defend his actions.

I held up my hands. “No. No. I’m an independent woman, like Ms. Beyoncé. I did this to myself. So there’s no one to blame here except Beyoncé,” I said as I brushed past Jason and entered the house. I tried to head up the stairs but they seemed to never end, so I decided to sit down halfway to the top and catch my breath.

“Phew. When did you add these extra steps to the house? We were only gone for like two hours.” I laid back so my head rested on the landing in the center of the stairs. I could just sleep here.

“Should I?” Derek started to ask, but Jason cut him off.

“I got it. Night Derek.”

“Captain’s orders, Derek!” I said, thinking my jokes were dead on. Seriously Derek should have left me at the bar so I could have performed stand-up for everyone. Paulo’s date would have loved that.

I felt a presence walk past me on the stairs, but I didn’t open my eyes to confirm the hunch.

“Princess, you just going to lay there the whole night?” Jason asked.

His voice was dark and deep, but there was something new in it: annoyance. Surprise, surprise. Jason hated me again. What’s new?

“I’m thinking about it,” I answered. “You just go on up and I’ll take the first watch for the night.”

I had no clue what I was talking about, but I figured that if I sounded like I knew what I was doing, he’d leave me alone.

The next thing I knew, there were two hands gripping my biceps and forcing me to sit up. Then my body was tossed over his shoulder like a sack of sugar.

I wasn’t sure if sugar came in sacks that were my size, but if they did, Dotty would have loved it. He carried me up the stairs and my head bobbed back and forth right in front of his butt. He was wearing flannel pajama pants, but I could still see the outline of his derrière perfectly. It looked so appetizing.

“Did you just bite my butt?” he asked.

I had.

I wanted to know what it tasted like.

“No. Shh, I’m trying to sleep.”

Then I proceeded to fake snore. (Like I said, comedy gold.)

Once we were in my room, Jason kicked my door closed and set me back down on my feet. Then, without bothering to ask, he pulled my blouse over the top of my head and unbuckled my pants. There was no romance in his movements so I knew we weren’t about to have sex, but I still wanted out of my clothes anyway. They smelled like the bar, and I wanted to smell good so that Jason would like me.

Once I was standing there in my panties and bra, Jason came out of my closet holding up an oversized “New Kids On The Block” t-shirt and helped me put it on.

I don’t remember if he helped me brush my teeth or wash my face, but I do remember the feeling of falling face first onto my bed and sinking into the soft blankets.

“I never want to leave this place,” I whispered right before slipping into a deep, drunk slumber.

…



When I woke up at 4:00 A.M. with a splitting headache and the driest mouth known to man, I rolled over in the darkness and tried to sit up. Before I could get far, I saw the figure sitting in the corner of my room. Jason. He was on the chair next to the closet that was I usually reserved for dirty clothes. His elbow was propped up on the chair’s arm and his head was resting in his palm. It had to have been the worst sleeping position, but I supposed it had afforded him a good view of me sleeping in bed.