He also knows I’m not going to do anything about it. Which pisses me off even more…
Molly hovers nearby, sipping her drink but on high alert - like a referee in a game on the ice, waiting to step in if the players start rough housing. She looks weary and tired, and I wouldn’t exactly say I felt guilty for putting her in the middle, but…
…it’s her damn fault for having a witty and gorgeous roommate to begin with.
Weston breaks through the awkward silence. “The two of you look way too dressed up for this place.”
Okay. So much for breaking the ice and making it less awkward.
“Well, we weren’t going to stop in but Kevin kept bugging me, so… here we are.” Neve flashes his teeth, corralling Cecelia closer to the bar and getting out his wallet. Leaning against the counter with a twenty dollar bill extended, he makes the money into a little tent and lays it on the bar top. He plants a kiss on the side of Cecelia’s face, putting an arm around her shoulder and giving her an affectionate squeeze. “Our original plan was to go parking, wasn’t it Love Muffin?”
CHAPTER 29
CECELIA
“This shot of Jaeger tastes like I’ll be drunk texting you later.”
– Bernie
Oh my god, Love Muffin?
Seriously? Seriously?! Come on!
I groan inwardly and secretly want to both vomit in my mouth and elbow Neve in the gut (hard), but can’t get my arm loose enough to do it since he’s draped all over me like a wet washrag. He’s starting to annoy the shit out of me - even though I know he’s only doing it to irritate Matthew.
I mean. I want to annoy Matthew, not make him think I’m a man-hopper, if you know what I mean. And if you don’t, well, a man-hopper is exactly what it sounds like - the kind of girl that goes from one guy to another – in other words: a slut.
I force a smile and through clenched teeth mutter sarcastically, “Right. Parking. Up at Walker’s Point. You all know how I loooove a good make out sesh.”
Everyone except Neve shifts uncomfortably, their eyes roaming between Matthew and I like they’re watching a Telenovela Soap Opera unfold before their eyes.
And in in a way, it kind of is.
Unable to stand it any longer, I peel Neve off of me and excuse myself to run to the Ladies Room, the privacy a welcome diversion. I lean against the dirty metal stall, staring up at the moldy ceiling and exhale. My body sags and I dig into my Molly’s hand bag to check my cell.
The little blue light blinks: one new message.
Matthew: I know it’s not my place, but you look beautiful tonight.
I stare at the text, slack jawed. Damn right it’s not his place. And yet…
Me: So complimentary all of the sudden. Gee, I wonder why…
Matthew: Learning from my mistakes?
Me: Well, at least when you make mistakes they’re not hard to miss. Have you re-evaluated your stance on Blowies?
Matthew: Have you?
Me: O….M….GOD
Matthew: I’M KIDDING. I’M JUST KIDDING. See? I am a complete idiot. I NEED someone like you to teach me how not to be an asshole.
Me: Probably. But you know what they say: Can’t teach an old dog new tricks. And YOU are definitely a dog. Woof woof.
Matthew: Wow, you go straight for the jugular, don’t you?
Me: I call it like I see it. You’re not the right guy for me, Matthew, and I don’t do casual flings. Sorry.
Matthew: I know you’re starting to like me, Cecelia. Admit it.
Me: I won’t admit anything. And if I did, it’s too late anyway. You leave in a month for California.
Matthew: Why did you have to go and bring that up??????
Me: Look. I can’t stay holed up in the bathroom texting you. At some point I have to come back out to my DATE.
Matthew: Suit yourself. But you should know I still plan on cashing in…
Me: Fat chance.
Matthew: You know you’re going to have to lay one on me at some point. Be a woman of your word.
Me: I’m not kissing you. Get over yourself.
Matthew: Over myself? I’d rather have you under myself…. Haha.
Me: I know this will be difficult for you to comprehend, but when I walk back out, could you please try to behave like a mature adult…
Matthew: That just proves you don’t know me at all. LOL. Why would I start behaving like an adult now?
Why indeed.
I lock my cell and stuff it back into my purse, balancing myself on the small single sink in the bathroom by the forearms, staring at myself in the mirror. My deceitful, traitorous-self stares back.
I say I want nothing to do with Matthew Wakefield; that I don’t want him touching me, that I don’t want to kiss him - but it’s all just one, big, fat lie and I know it.