“Deal.” Griffin stood, reached for the world’s fastest handshake, and beat it to the bathroom.
David rolled over and buried his face against the bed. The story would be all over, everywhere he went today. Well, what the fuck did he care if a bunch of strangers believed some bullshit story?
For that matter, what the fuck did he care if the story they read was the truth? In a few days, they’d move on to the next hot-n-happenin’ headline. Probably.
Maybe Vic and Britt had figured that out, and that was why their perspective seemed so screwed.
Griffin came back out, his feet shuffling along the carpet in the semidark. “Bathroom’s all yours.” His voice was rough and he sounded miserable. “If you wanta shower, do me a favor and leave the door unlocked, case I’ve gotta ralph again, huh?”
“Aren’t ya glad we drank all that shit to feel better?”
Griffin’s bed creaked. “Fuckin’ Peyton.”
Yep. Fucking Vic too. And Britt.
His shorts were all crusty, which meant he’d been dealing with both of them sometime in the night. Goddamn it. Just remembering the dream…coming, having them both again…got him hard, even hungover.
How could he feel like he needed to fuck this second, when he knew he’d never want to fuck again?
* * * *
They’d completely missed check-out time. Slept hard, until some Hispanic chick from housekeeping beat on the door and announced herself in two languages.
“Shit.” David knuckled his eyes. He’d had a ticket on a noon flight out of San Diego. So much for making that flight. “Feel any better?”
The maid quit knocking and moved down the hall to the next room.
“Some,” Griffin muttered. “We slept ’til one, dude. Wanna get somethin’ to eat?”
“Maybe downstairs. And then what? Check out, or stay another night?”
“Fuck.” Griffin turned on the lamp between the beds. “I better see if I can change my flight. Since it’s in like two hours. But first, food. I’ll dick around with flight times on my phone while we eat.”
The hotel restaurant had only a few more patrons than the bar had the night before. Each corner had a TV playing some different daytime program, with subtitles running along the bottom of the screen.
They ordered and both went to work on their phones, silent except for the occasional long drink from their sodas.
“Fuck my life. Looks like it’ll be tomorrow afternoon before I can get on a flight,” Griffin said. “Whatever. I better just get the reservation changed.” He pulled out his wallet. “Hey. Look who’s on TV.”
Christ, it was probably that scene with them, from outside the bar. David looked over at the TV Griffin indicated. Suckerpunch. A close-up of Vic, Britt right beside her. Must’ve been from their press conference after the ship unloaded. She looked good, too damn good. Hard to believe he’d been with her not long ago. And Britt–he always seemed to have her back. They were perfect together: she the light, beckoning all to realize their dreams, he the sturdy anchor to reality.
David closed his eyes, then opened them to watch the scene on TV. Just where would he have fit in with them?
“Yo. Bro. Food’s here.” Griffin snapped his fingers.
Leaning back so the server could put their plates down, David kept staring at the screen. Vic. Damn it. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She didn’t look at all wrecked, like he’d felt all yesterday. Hadn’t she told him she loved him? Begged him to stay? Seemed like she’d gotten over his heart-wrenching departure pretty damn fast.
“Power,” Griffin said past a mouthful of burger. “You can just about smell it coming off her, like little waves. An aura. I can see why you wanted her. One smokin’ hot piece of ass–”
“Don’t.” David growled, glared at Griffin, and looked back at the TV in time to see a commercial coming on.
“But I can’t see her ever getting into it. Ya know? Like, didn’t you wonder if she was a hundred percent with you? Or was she thinking about the Next Big Sexy Thing, the whole time you were getting it on? Strikes me as a control freak. And in my experience, control freaks don’t make such hot lovers.”
Wrong on that count, Griff. “Might depend on what she’s controlling at the time, I guess.”
“Ohhh, I get it. A little S and M action, eh?” Griffin nodded and rubbed his stubbly chin. “I can see that. Still…I dunno. An overnighter, a weekend romp maybe. But you did the right thing breaking ties there, bro. Babes like that don’t let themselves get attached where they don’t want to. They control the situation. Their actions, their emotions and their men–puppets on strings, I tell ya.”