Caught in the Flames (20 page)

“Okay, so he’s getting in your car?” Alicia says, and Jill’s cheeks stain with pink.

“Busted. But you better not be driving,” I warn.

“She’s not. I am,” Cameron interrupts and plucks her keys from her grip with one hand. His other slaps her jean clad ass. He tries to snake an arm around her waist and pull her close but she dodges him with a bored expression.

“Come on, let’s go before I regret this and change my mind.” Jill turns and strides away. Her blonde locks are pulled into a high ponytail and swing with each step. Her long legs move purposefully out of the bar and Cameron jogs to catch up. He leaves like a dog chasing his bone out the door.
Poor puppy.

“I almost feel sorry for him.” Alicia waves the bartender over. “Four shots of Fireball.”

“Four?” My eyes widen with a little dose of fear. We’ve been drinking for hours.

“Double the pleasure, double the fun! We’re having fun tonight. I want to have fun!” Alicia shakes her ass to the music pumping through the overhead speakers.

“Fun, you say?” Chase’s voice is at my ear and his arms wrap possessively around my waist. His day old scruff scrapes the skin of my neck and sends shivers down my spine. “Hey, Callie. Having fun?”

“She is now. Drink up, bitch!” Alicia slides two of the four shots in front of me.

“Oh, fuck. We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” I’ve already had three. This will put me over the edge of slightly inebriated Callie to totally intoxicated with a killer hangover Callie . . . and bordering on the puking all night Callie. And no one wants that girl back.

“Hell yeah, we are. We do everything together.” Alicia winks and places a shot in my hand.

Oh, fuck
. I click my tiny glass against hers and throw back the shot, pinch my eyes tight as the liquor goes down so smooth, and taste my beloved childhood candy treat. I don’t even hesitate on the second. Alicia is sure to give me shit if I try to back out. We tap glasses again, this time being silly and weaving our arms as if it were a wedding day toast of champagne.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Chase says from my side.

“Damn straight.” Alicia giggles. “Nothing wrong with a little girl on girl action to put you in the mood.” Her brows dance.

“Oh, I’m always in the mood,” Chase declares, a goofy grin on his face. “Right, baby?” He directs his grin my way. Damn, he’s hot, even wasted. I’ve never seen him this shitfaced, and that’s saying something after the party at his apartment.

“It’s true.” I grin and kiss him on the lips. I only meant for it to be a quickie, but Chase’s lips are so plump and taste a little bit sweet. I move my tongue inside his mouth to determine what it is. Not beer, not chocolate, not—

“That’s fucking hot.” Alicia’s raspy voice pulls me from my treasure hunt.

I gaze up and Chase’s chocolate orbs glaze and flame with desire. He watches me while he nods toward Alicia. “Does that turn you on? ’Cause that sure as fuck turned me on.”

The kiss? I’m confused but I think that’s what he meant. I smile and his grin pulls into that knowing smirk I love. His eyes leave mine to focus on my friend. He leans forward conspiratorially and Alicia and I follow his lead until all three of our bodies touch.

His voice is sweet and low and all gravely when he talks again. “What do you say, Callie’s best friend? Wanna come home with us tonight? Watch us fuck? That’d be hot, wouldn’t it?”

His words are like a bucket of ice cold water. What the hell did he just say? Apprehension and fear paralyze my lips and body.

“Oh, fuck yeah. That’d be so hot.” Alicia giggles soft. “If Callie wants me to, I’m game.” Their chins turn my way and it pulls me from my stupor.

“N—no! No way!” I stutter. My spine pulls straight as I break out of this little bubble of conversation. “Alicia!”

“What? I think it’d be fun, but only if you want to.” She tries to give me a side hug but I shake her off. She rolls her eyes and walks away, leaving me with Chase.

I glare but he doesn’t seem to notice as he orders another beer. “Want anything, baby?” He’s all casual and polite, like he didn’t just invite my best friend into our bed.

“You know what? I would love something.”

“Yeah?” He lifts his hand to bring the bartender back over but I pull it back down.

“Yeah. I’d love a boyfriend who doesn’t invite other women into our sex life. Ya know, without consulting me first!”

“Jesus, Callie. Calm down. I thought you were into it. It was just an idea.”

The bartender sets a full glass of beer in front of us and the foam sloshes over the side and puddles on the wooden bar. Chase takes a long pull before meeting my gaze again.

We stare. Just like that, for what feels like an eternity. I will him to say something, anything, to make this better—to apologize, to take back the last five minutes of what was turning out to be a fabulous night. Instead, he shrugs and goes back to his beer.

“So, that’s it?” I fling my hands in the air.

He glances at me from the side. “Look. What do you want me to say?”

“Something! Anything!” My voice is loud, pitchy, but I can’t help it when I’m angry.

“Damn it, Callie, you really know how to ruin a good time.” He slams his now empty glass down on the counter and walks away. He fucking walks away. And takes a piece of me with him, but I don’t turn to watch him leave or see where he goes. Fuck that, and fuck him.

“Hey!” I shout to the bartender. “Two more.” I hold up the peace sign. He nods and pours from the amber bottle.

“You okay?” He sets the shots in front of me.

“I will be. Just keep ’em coming until then.”

I hate Fireball.

My boyfriend asked my bestie to watch us have sex . . . and she said yes! What the hell is wrong with tonight? It’s got to be the Fireball. The godforsaken liquor. That’s gotta be it. We drank too much of this crap.

“You okay, Callie?”

“Mmm?” I collect my thoughts and haul my head from where it rests comfortably. On the bar. On the disgusting, sticky, unclean bar. I almost gag before my shoulder jostles again.

“Callie?” Troy’s concerned face comes into view. When I blink the room is unfocused and it takes me a few tries before everything balances in order. “Callie, you okay?”

“Where’s Chase?”

Troy’s lips lift in a grin and he points toward the restrooms. Oh. Chase must be sick. I can’t believe I fell asleep on the bar.

My legs feel funny as I slide off the barstool and stagger in the direction Troy pointed. I pass the table we were at earlier, but it’s now filled with strangers. Where is everybody? Where’s Alicia? How long was I passed out? I rub at my eyes and turn into the hallway that leads to the restrooms, glancing in both directions to find the right door. My feet stutter to a stop and I wipe my eyes once more.

It’s him.
With her.

Alicia’s tan legs are exposed all the way up to the edge of her lace panties—where she wraps them around Chase’s hips and he grinds against her center. With her back against the wall, her jet black hair almost fades into the dim lighting but for the strand of dyed green. The rest of her face is hidden as his lips battle with hers, but their moans reach my ears and I cry out. They lift their chins toward the sound.

Alicia’s face blurs as tears fill my eyes. Chase nearly drops her to the ground and she straightens her skirt and leans against the wall.

“Callie,” he says, and bile fills my mouth. I run. Push past them both and lock myself in the women’s restroom.

“Callie. Callie, open the door.” Chase pounds and the door shakes against his weight. It’s too much. I grip the square metal trash bin and heave. All of the night’s transgressions empty from my stomach. More tears fill my eyes. My nostrils burn with stomach acid and I heave again.

“Damn it, Callie! Open the door!” The handle jiggles but there’s a deadbolt. “Come out here and talk to me or I’ll find someone to open this fucking thing!” But it’s all a muted threat, as though he’s shouting underwater. I can’t focus on anything other than slowing my racing heart and mind, and upset stomach.

There’s a flush in one of the stalls and that’s when I realize I’m not alone. I wipe at my eyes, but the touch of my own skin on my face brings up more vomit. The banging at the restroom door fades and the steady tap of heels on the hardwood floor finally pulls my gaze out of the trash can and into the mirrors above the double sinks.

“You really should learn to hold your liquor, honey. That’s so not attractive. Chase isn’t gonna want to date a girl with puke breath.” Tiff glares through the looking glass and washes her hands in the sink.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore so I don’t give a fuck what he thinks.” I spit the words at her. A deep breath aids my attempt to steady my breathing.

“’Bout time he took out the trash.” She looks down her nose at me and tosses her used paper towel inches from my face and into the can.

“What the hell is your problem? Why do you hate me? What did I ever do to you?” I straighten and use the trash can for balance.

“You were never good enough for Chase.”

Me? I wasn’t good enough? He was practically fucking my best friend in the bar tonight.
I wet a paper towel to clean my face.
God knows what else he did
. The image of his car parked in Tiff’s driveway flashes in my mind and I just know. He’s been cheating on me this entire time.

“You don’t even know me,” I grind out through clenched teeth.

“Well, you associate yourself with homewrecking old whores. And misery loves company, so . . .” She smirks. I spin and step so I’m toe to toe with her. She lifts her brow, as though I amuse her and it pisses me off even more.

“You’re the one with whoring tendencies. Kiki’s been nothing but a loyal and caring friend. The perfect neighbor. Unlike you.”

Her smile fades and eyebrows lower. Her eyes go hard, as deep and blue as an approaching storm. “Really? You need to get your facts straight, little girl
. Ask her
. Ask her how she met her late husband. Ask her if she stole a married man for herself. I assure you she’s nothing but a lowlife bitch.” Tiff’s words are venomous as they sting from her lips.

“You. Are. Toxic. Don’t try to poison my relationship with Kiki. I don’t believe one word out of your fucking mouth. How can I believe anything you say? I know you were fooling around with my boyfriend!”

“What?” She cocks her head to the side and that annoying grin slips back on her lips.

“Don’t act surprised. I know Chase was at your house. I know you were with him. I saw the way you touched him tonight.”

Tiff’s laugh is loud and manic, her lips twisting to a scowl. “Chase is my brother, you idiot.”

“What?” Now it’s my turn to be confused.

“You really don’t know shit.”

She unlocks the door and struts through it with smug, confident steps. Each click of her heels on the hardwood further drives home the proof that I know nothing about Chase. I’m afraid I never did.

I have to get out of here.

I glance out into the hallway. No one’s around. Instead of walking back through the bar I race through the door marked for employees only and pray there’s an exit. There is and I can’t move fast enough to get out of the building and to the nearest cab. I’m done with this place, this night . . .

I’m done with Chase.

I hate Chase.

The clock on my phone flips to midnight. I plug it into the charger and burrow myself into a mess of blankets and pillows. The cab dropped me back at my place and I wasted no time getting ready for bed. I couldn’t peel my clothes off fast enough, or brush the remnants of alcohol from my teeth with any more haste. My body moves with practice and familiarity, my mind preoccupied with fighting the pain that pulses from my center. It punches my gut with each inhalation of breath and poisons every ounce of joy and happiness in my life. With every exhale the voice of reason and reality stabs the knife of betrayal deeper.

You were never enough.

He played you like the fool you are.

Your own best friend did too.

I press my pillow over my head and squeeze. I beg for sleep to come, to take me away from my thoughts and this night that should have never happened. I hate Chase. I hate Alicia. I hate myself a little, too.