Jaded (12 page)

She stopped walking and snapped her fingers. “That’s it! I was there a couple weeks ago. I forgot all about it!”

He nodded. “It’s a real dive, huh?”

She laughed. “It was an experience, that’s for sure. I don’t go out too often and not to places like that...” Her voice trailed off. Luke struggled hard to place her from that night, and could vaguely remember a group of non-regulars who had come, stayed for an hour, and then left...maybe he’d seen her in the mix there and it had lodged itself in his brain. The memory was so fuzzy though, he could barely remember what else had gone on that night. She watched him for a moment, clucked her tongue, and then said, “Yep. That’s it. I remember you because of that hair.” She nodded toward him. “I wanted to touch it.”

He half-smiled, unsure if she was kidding or not. “D-do you want to? You can...”

“No, it’s fine. I think the alcohol was making me feel a little bit...touchy-feely that night.” She smiled. “You have great hair though.” She turned to leave, and as she did, she paused. “Actually...could I touch it?”

He laughed. “Go for it.”

She giggled and ran up to him, rubbing both hands down the sides of his head. “Very smooth. You condition well.” She winked, smiled wide, and said, “Have a nice day, Luke. It was nice meeting you.”

She excused herself from the kitchen, rejoining the women at the front of the house, and Luke watched her leave, confused and happy. She was a good friend, and he would make it a point to mention this to Isabella later, but something gnawed at him. Something about Bigsy’s...he still couldn’t put a finger on it, though, and tried to shake it off. Besides, it was probably nothing. If he remembered every random drunken night, well, he wouldn’t have room left in his mind for much else.

***

As Luke was wrapping up his last project later that day, Isabella appeared at the back door. He looked up at her, squinting his eyes against the late-afternoon sun. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, staring at him.

“Hey there.” He waved, but she made no response. He moved closer to the door, stepping into the shadows of the house so he could better see her. She remained motionless, arms folded.

“You just getting back from hanging with Lizzie?”

She pursed her lips and remained silent.

“Isabella, what’s going on? Why are you acting so quiet?”

Her nostrils flared just before she threw her arms by her side and let out a grunt of frustration. “Luke! You are so daft!”

His brows creased. “Come again?”

She narrowed her glare. “You must think I’m some stupid little girl, don’t you? Just some girl who will fall for whatever you say, whatever compliment you give me? Well guess what—I’m not a sleazy bar whore. I’m not some girl you can just use to get your jollies!”

He blinked hard. “Bella...
what
are you
talking about
?”

“Lizzie knows you, okay? She’s seen you out, showing your true colors. And from what she saw, they’re scary colors.”

Luke’s mind was racing, struggling to place her friend Lizzie in some memory, some instant, in the .003 seconds before Isabella turned and stormed away. His heart pounded wildly against his ribs, intensifying the desperate attempts to form a thought before time ran out. Isabella stared hard at him, waiting for a response.

“I mean, I—I recognized her, but, I don’t know what you’re talking about...I just...”

“It’s pretty pathetic that you can’t even remember the night you met her. It’s even more pathetic that you don’t remember the girl you were feeling up in public that night too!”

Luke’s mind screeched to a halt. Fragments were trickling into his vision, smells, moments, the feel of the girl’s breath against his ear.
Shit
.

He didn’t know what to say, how to react. It was true—he’d been at the bar that night, feeling up a girl, doing what he always did. Isabella’s friend had witnessed it—not something he would have expected at the time since he hadn’t even met Isabella yet. He sighed heavily, shrugging his shoulders.

“I don’t know what you want to hear...it was a while ago, I mean, it’s not like I talk to that girl anymore...”

“A while ago? This was three weeks ago. You must really have a twisted sense of women if this is even remotely normal.”

He narrowed his eyes, watching her. She was so mad at him that he could practically see the curls of smoke coming from her nostrils.
This is bad, Luke.
He knew that hearing something like this from a friend was the worst sort of reputation a guy could develop. His heart twisted hard in his chest and he fought to find some answer, something that would make her even just a little less angry.

“Bella, you don’t know anything about me or what I do with my spare time. So what if that happened? Lizzie doesn’t know anything about me either, so how does she know if that wasn’t someone I was seeing then? What’s with all the assumptions? Can’t a guy go have fun sometimes?”

Her eyes darkened. “Fun? Being a womanizer doesn’t sound like fun to me.”

There was a moment of silence. Luke clenched and unclenched his fists, taking the time to breathe. He was about to snap; he could feel it in his veins.

“What are you getting at?”

Isabella was ready with her response. “I’m a woman, Luke, but I don’t need to be
womanized
. You act sweet with me, you leave me that letter in my bed, then you practically ignore me all day. I don’t get you, I don’t know what you want with me, but you better believe that I don’t play games. I don’t need some sleazy construction worker in my life screwing with my head.”

Her words hung heavy in the air. Luke swallowed hard, fighting with all his might the urge to put his fist into the wall. She had gone too far, way too far. Glaring hard at her, he spun on his heels. “Whatever.”

He could feel her watching him as he picked up his remaining tools from the ground. He stormed past her into the kitchen. He dropped his toolbox with a metallic thud on the floor next to the front door, but hardly noticed it amidst the commotion inside his head. She was still watching him with arms crossed over her chest from the back door as he opened the front door, went outside, and slammed it hard behind him. He didn’t know if she’d said anything else; he was nearly blind with anger as he made his way to his car.

He couldn’t tell what he was more upset about—the fact that she was judging his life, especially his life before he met her, or the way she’d said ‘sleazy construction worker.’ It reeked of elitism, and that was one thing Luke was especially sensitive to. What right did she have to judge him or his choices? It wasn’t her life, he wasn’t indebted to her, and he sure as hell didn’t answer to her. The word “snob” ran like a marquee through his head and he could hardly focus on anything else as he raced home. She was acting like his girlfriend when that was the exact thing she refused to be; the double standard irked him and he couldn’t shake it.

He clenched the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. Luke Peterson didn’t have the time, but especially the energy, for girlfriends or head games. Better then, he reasoned, to just stay away from Isabella, no matter how much he was tempted otherwise. If space was what she wanted—that’s exactly what she’d get.

Chapter Six

An hour of jogging, one yoga class, and two margaritas later, Isabella found herself pacing her bedroom heatedly, unable to refocus on her anger from earlier that day. No matter how hard she tried to divert her attention elsewhere—the upcoming wedding, the yard work, even the television, for god’s sake—all she could think about was how restless she was, and how badly she wanted to call Luke.

She’d already picked up the phone with the intention of calling him four times. She felt like an idiot calling him after their spat earlier. Especially with the intention of having him over because she was horny.

But that’s not all it’s about
, a small voice told her.
You like him for more reasons than that.

She sighed, chewing on her lip and staring at the phone. Maybe he would call her first and things would solve themselves. It seemed unlikely—she’d said some awful things. Luke might never speak to her again, and she knew that was a real possibility based on how steaming mad he’d been when he’d left the house. Looking back, she was horrified at what she’d said to him, how she’d let her inexplicable feelings of being blindsided get the best of her rationality.

She and Lizzie had gone out for a late lunch, after she and the family had met the construction crew. They talked about what they normally talked about—men, a lack of decent ones, and relationships. Lizzie had mentioned that Luke looked familiar but it was over lunch that she remembered exactly how she knew him. She recalled the night at Bigsy’s, the group of raucous, drunken friends, the obviously intoxicated Luke French-kissing a girl that he apparently didn’t know, the not-so-secret hand wandering between the girl’s legs, the shouts and catcalls from his friends, egging him on, and many more details that made Isabella’s lunch churn in her stomach.

As she’d driven home from her outing with Lizzie, Isabella knew she had to confront Luke. It all made sense to her then—he was a gross, womanizing man-whore. Better to call him out on it, for the sake of all womankind, than involve herself further with such a person.

But thinking back on it now, she knew it was wrong. Maybe she could have done that to a stranger, but she at least knew parts of Luke that made him worthy of a second look. She’d said too many hurtful things out of anger, and it was unlike her to be so blatantly rude. It surprised her that she’d been so hurt by the news—what did it matter to her what he did? She knew the answer to that without a second thought, but pushed it aside. It was time to rectify the situation, or else he might never look at her again.

“Just call him,” she told herself, staring at the phone in her hand. “Do it now. Hurry.”

She turned the phone on, dialed the number as quickly as she could, and waited for it to ring.

Her stomach flopped.

It rang four times before he picked up. “H’lo?” He sounded like he’d just woken up...or maybe she’d interrupted a one-night stand. The thought made her stomach knot up.

“Hey.” She paused. “It’s me, Isabella.”

“Oh.” His voice fell flat. “What do you want?”

His greeting was like a tiny knife in her gut, but she swallowed her pride and jumped right in. “I want to apologize for what happened earlier today. It was wrong of me to say those things to you, and I guess I was just really hurt because I...I assumed you must be taking advantage of me.”

There was a moment of silence before he said, “Who knows, I’m just a sleazy construction worker. I don’t have a conscience or anything, right?”

She winced, finding the taste of her own words to be particularly unpleasant. “I never meant to imply that. I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re sleazy...but, the story I heard sounded really sleazy.”

He sighed from the other end of town. “Well, hey, it was a sleazy story. I don’t deny that. Haven’t you ever had a sleazy moment?”

She thought back. “A couple, I guess.”

“Besides, Isabella, you can’t be mad at me for something I did before you met me.”

Her thoughts screeched to a halt. He had a point...but the concerning issue was about his character.

“It just makes you look bad,” she said. Then after a moment, she added, “How can I trust you?”

“What do you care?” he shot back. “You’re not dating men...remember?”

She sighed in defeat. “I know. Listen, I’m sorry, I really am.” She paused. “What are you doing right now?”

“Nothing.”

Oh, good. No one-night stand, then.
“Do you wanna come over?”

There was a pause. “I’m not sure I should.”

A cold fear slid over her insides, and she felt desperate to convince him. “Why shouldn’t you?”

He paused again. When he spoke, his voice had a gritty edge. “Because I might not be able to keep my sleazy hands off you...”

She heard the smile in his voice and laughed. “We’ll take care of that when it happens, I guess. Listen, I need some company. Will you come over?”

“Of course. I’ll be right over.”

She hung up the phone, a satisfied smile lingering on her lips. He was so quick to forgive and forget, like a puppy dog, eager to pick up and continue as before. It was like the tiff from earlier had never even happened. She liked that in him. Her gaze wandered around her room, and then a thought struck her: as much as she wanted the course of events to lead them to her bedroom, she was scared. They were starting again—the flip-flopping emotions. The fact that he was coming over meant she liked him and wanted to spend time with him. She couldn’t figure out why she was suddenly having second thoughts.

It’s because you like him. No matter how much you pretend otherwise, you like Luke Peterson.

She bolted into her bathroom and headed for the mirror. Her hair looked too flat, much too flat—she tossed it around a bit, decided it was too messy, and then smoothed everything back down again. But what about her clothes? Sexy casual, that’s what she was going for. She went to her closet and pulled out a tight tank top and some form-fitting night pants. Pink fluffy slippers topped it all off and she sauntered downstairs, feeling like the perfect blend of trying just enough to convince herself she didn’t really care but still looking damn good. Maybe she’d whip up some of her drinks again. No, she’d rely on their insane sexual energy to charge them up. That was enough by itself.

Within a few minutes, the doorbell rang and she scurried to the door. She tore it open and time froze.

He gazed at her solemnly, hands buried in his pockets. He looked shy, maybe even nervous. A lock of hair dangled over his eye, freed from behind the confines of his ear. Slowly, he smiled, his lips turning up to reveal those perfect white teeth. Isabella felt her knees weaken.

“Hey.” Before she could respond to him, he rushed forward and kissed her deeply. At first all her mind could read was shock, but her body quickly reacted to the touch of his lips against hers and her heart clenched with joy.