chapter four
“They call it ‘a blast from the past’ because most times, it feels like a literal electrical jolt to your heart. It’s painful as hell, and somehow time even manages to slow itself down just so you can feel that much shittier for that much longer. My advice? You see a blast, you run past the past. Feel me?”
~From Max Emory’s Guide to Dating and Other Important Life Lessons
Jason
“What are you doing here?” Regret mixed with heavy dread decided to pool around my midsection, making me feel as if I needed to either hurl, or punch something. Seeing her didn’t just feel like shit — it was actual shit, as if someone had handed me a branding iron and told me to stick it in my mouth and bite down until my tongue fell off — that kind of shit.
“Um…” Maddy’s cheeks stained pink as she glanced between Blanche and me.
“We need water,” Blanche said in fast, clipped tones. “I prefer sparkling, but my date likes his still.”
I stole a glance at Blanche. She’d never called me her date before, at least not out loud, and I knew by the immediate horrified reaction on Maddy’s face that she’d assumed the worst.
That I was Blanche’s date, in every sense of the word. When really, all I did was keep her company a few times a month when she was missing her husband because he was on a fishing trip, or when she needed to fill me in on town gossip. I’d been sitting here for mere minutes when she’d started drilling me about Max’s signs getting posted everywhere.
My date reached across the table and gripped my hand in hers. “Isn’t that right, pumpkin sauce?”
I fought back the growl building in my throat as I squeezed back my words from tumbling out of my mouth like gravel. “Right.”
“Okay.” Maddy swallowed, her strawberry hair bouncing along her smooth ivory skin. Her perfume was the same, coconut-toasted something that made my mouth water instantly. It’s been said that scent is the strongest way to pull out a memory, but when it came to Maddy, it had always been her lips.
I compared lips to hers.
Mouths.
Shit. Who was I kidding? I compared every girl I’d ever kissed. And they always came up short. It was always stupid things too, like her upper lip was too large, her teeth too straight, too white. The closest I’d ever come to dating a girl seriously after my failed engagement had been Jenna.
But that had gone to hell in a handbasket the minute I found out she’d slept with Reid, Max’s famous brother. No chance in hell was I going to be sloppy seconds. Because, according to Max, once girls get with Reid, they either die unhappy and alone — or build creepy incense altars in his honor, in hopes to somehow win him back. Um, no thanks.
“Is there anything other than water that I can get you two?” Maddy’s blue eyes met mine briefly before returning to the older woman.
Blanche being Blanche, tilted her head to the side and said, “An alcoholic beverage would be nice, but the last young man who brought me whiskey didn’t pour it correctly.”
As if it takes a PhD to pour two fingers of whiskey.
“Hmm, well how about I bring the bartender over here and—”
“Did I ask for the bartender?” Blanche’s penciled brows shot up.
I leaned back and bit my tongue. She had never been prickly on date night, but it was possible she knew the whole backstory with Maddy and me. After I’d gotten drunk last year on New Year’s, I’d begged Blanche for a “matronly kiss,” because apparently — and this is all coming from Max, who witnessed the entire charade — that was all I was good for. Pleasing the elderly.
Oh, and yeah… Blanche had gone ahead and done just that… kissed my mouth.
Max claimed it was the best damn kiss he’d ever seen.
Then again, Max has an actual bunker in his apartment for when the zombies attack so… grain of salt, you know?
Needless to say, Blanche hadn’t been a fan.
“No, you didn’t ask for the bartender.” Maddy bit down on her lower lip.
I sucked in a breath and nearly choked on my tongue as I pounded my chest lightly and looked away, fighting to keep my expression void of emotion.
She’d left me.
Abandoned me.