Last Call (Bad Habits Book 3) (2 page)

“Yeah, until six.”

“I have jury duty, but meet me here after and give me the day to think about it.”

“Fair enough.” The shadow smirk bloomed into a full blown crooked smile. He picked up Philmore, turning it over to inspect it as his brow climbed. “You were going to assault me with a pink vibe?”

I shrugged. “It was the closest blunt object.”

He snuck a glance down at my legs. I’d forgotten I was nearly naked, and another little burst of adrenaline shot through me as I watched him look me over.

I was all of a sudden very glad I’d done laundry a couple of days ago and had my top-shelf undies on instead of the days of the week panties I reserved for periods and trips to the laundromat.
 

I turned for Lily’s dresser to rummage through her clothes with clumsy hands, hiding behind my dark hair to cover the flush in my cheeks. When I turned around, business casual in hand, he was still staring at my body. I ignored the shot of heat that ran through me and made a face somewhere between a scowl and a glare.
 

He looked up at me without the least bit of remorse.
 

The light streamed in through a crack between the curtains, a slice of sunshine across his angular face and curves of his shoulders, illuminating his blue eyes as tiny specks of dust danced in and out of the beam.

I realized I wasn’t breathing and clutched the clothes in my hands with sweaty palms, needing to get out of that room before I suffocated. “All right … well, I’ll see you tonight, Tricky.”

“Sure.” His voice was tight, the smile somehow gone from his face without me realizing when it had left.
 

I wondered if he was as affected by me as I was by him, just before I walked away from him with only one other thought. 

This cannot be good.

Patrick

I STARED AT ROSE’S ASS shamelessly as she blew out of the room, breathing a sigh when she was out of sight.

It could have gone worse than dagger eyes and vibrator assault. She didn’t say no when I asked to stay, and I counted that for something.

I gathered up Lily’s comforter and climbed back into bed, slipping a hand behind my head as I listened to Rose swear her way through the apartment. Best to stay out of her way — it was too early to press my luck any more than I already had.

As I waited in the otherwise quiet room, I replayed the encounter in my mind, pictured her standing over me. Even barely awake, she looked like something out of a dream. The light shone in, illuminating her dark hair to look red, glowing like embers. The small, tight tee hitched over her hip on one side, the Cub Scout logo stretched across her breasts. Her long legs, the tattoo on her hip and thigh that I’d done myself, a mark I’d made on her that could never be erased.
 

Outside, she was cool and confident. Inside, she was on fire.

Nothing had been easy between the two of us since we’d broken up. I shouldered the blame for that, and it wasn’t something Rose would let go.

We’d been friends first, good friends, and for years. There was a night, a moment when I knew I felt more for her. No, it wasn’t even that — I’d had a thing for her ever since I’d met her. It was that I realized that she felt the same. Something in her eyes asked me for more, and when I kissed her, her body told me it was true.

We made a deal: We’d take it one day at a time, and if it ever became too much for either of us, we’d say the word and end it, no questions asked.

And that’s how the happiest months of my life began.
 

I’d been alone for most of my life, no room in my heart for anything serious. But Rose and I were easy. We slipped into a pattern of togetherness, every day, every night. I remembered coming to this apartment under much different circumstances, sleeping across the hall in her bed, spending every moment with her that I could, all under the umbrella of a bullshit, poisonous mantra: ‘No questions asked.’
 

It seemed so simple, at the time. A way to lower expectations and pressure. An easy way out wherein we could retain our friendship and respect for each other. We thought, at least. At the end of the day, it made no difference.
 

Sometimes, you have the whole world in your hands, and you don’t realize it until it’s shattered, left crumbled and sparkling in your palms. That you don’t know that you’ve lived your best days, not until they’re gone. Not until you look back. That day — the day I walked away — was one of my greatest mistakes, and I’ve made more than my share. It’s the only one I counted as a regret.

It wasn’t her fault that I was afraid, that the days and nights and togetherness I’d come to want and need all of a sudden seemed big and serious and terrifying. It wasn’t her fault that I realized I loved her, that I’d let her in deep enough that if she left me, I could never repair the hole it would leave.
 

So I ended it. And when I sat her down, when I told her simply that I wanted out, she accepted it just as simply. No questions asked.
 

I mistook her acceptance for apathy, and that apathy nearly killed me. She didn’t care, I convinced myself, then convinced myself that I didn’t care either. Repeated it in my head as I asked Veronica — another tattoo artist where I worked, one who’d been signaling her interest to me for months — if she wanted to go on a date. To Habits, the bar where we all hung out. The same bar where Rose bartended.
 

Like I said. Regrets.

The look on Rose’s face when I walked in with Veronica wasn’t one I’d ever forget. I think she was too shocked to hide her hurt, her anger, and that’s when I knew she’d been fronting, giving me what she thought I wanted, just as I presumed to know her feelings.
 

That night was a long one. It wasn’t long before it was too much to bear — the tears she blinked back, her body tight, the way she avoided looking at me, like if she did, she’d turn into a pillar of salt. I ushered Veronica out and apologized, an apology that earned me a verbal lashing, one I accepted and deserved, then watched her storm off. It was weeks before she’d even really speak to me again, and the first words she spoke were a joke at my expense, a good-natured joke that served as an olive branch.

I’d gone back to Rose’s place, waited on her couch to come clean. Beg. Do what I had to to get her back. But it wasn’t enough. I knew as she stood before me, hands shaking, tears streaking her cheeks, eyes full of betrayal. She told me never again. She told me I wasn’t forgiven. She told me it was over for good. Forever. And I believed her.

So I’d spent the last seven months wishing I’d done things differently. Waiting in the wings. Watching her for an opening, looking for any sign that there was a chance for us.
 

But if Rose was anything, she was stone cold. One chance. Just one. And I’d wasted mine.

I heard her come out of her room and pause in front of the doorway to Lily’s for only a second before she turned with a huff, and her footsteps grew quieter until the door opened and closed, marking her exit.

I imagined her walking down the hall grumbling, wondered how likely it was that she’d actually let me stay.

I sighed and climbed out of Lily’s bed, making it like I always did to leave it just like I’d found it. I found myself looking over the painting I’d done for her years before, after I went to my first ballet. As a principal dancer for the New York City Ballet, dance was her life, a devotion I understood. A sacrifice of her time and body for her passion. Shoes from various shows hung on her wall around the painting, all noted with the date and performance. The piece was almost entire black with the edge of her body and tutu visible in the softest whites, pinks, peaches and yellow, painted in oil with raised brush strokes. I always noticed what I saw as flaws, wished I could pick up a brush and just apply a little paint here, a little over there, make it perfect.

But perfect didn’t exist. It was a lesson I’d learned long, long before.

I pulled on my sweatpants and T-shirt just as my phone alarm went off, and, once dressed, I made my way through the apartment, which was as familiar to me as my own. For four years, we’d lived down the hall from each other — me and West, Rose and Lily. We all had keys to the others’ apartments, for emergencies like running out of coffee filters or milk. Plus, the girls had cable and we didn’t, so it wasn’t at all uncommon for any of us to find the others in our place. Although, I’m the first to admit that sleeping in Rose’s apartment without her knowledge crossed the line.

My only defense was that I was desperate for sleep. And that it was Lily’s idea.

Two months ago, Lily and West got together, and she started sleeping over. A month ago, I stopped sleeping.

West and I shared a wall, and when the headboard started pounding in the middle of the night, every night, the first thing I did was move my bed across the room. Every night, it seemed to get a little louder, a little longer, and every morning I’d wake up a little more exhausted.

I’d tried everything I could think of. Earplugs drove me nuts. Music was too distracting. I think there was an electrical problem in our apartment because every white noise machine or fan I bought didn’t last more than a day or two before shorting out. So when Lily offered me her old bed, I took her up on it, eventually. After she twisted my arm, convincing me it wasn’t creepy because she’d given me permission, after all. There was no need to tell Rose, she’d said.

I’d barely slept for a week at that point. Desperate times, and all that.

It was so quiet that first night when I snuck in while she was work, and I slept like I was dead. There was no going back after that.

Keeping it a secret was easy enough. Rose didn’t get in until late, usually around three when the bar closed, long after I was asleep. And she never woke up before noon, well after I was already gone.

Until today, at least.

I padded down the hall, opening the door of my apartment to find West and Lily at the table with two bowls of oatmeal between them like there was no one else in the world.
 

I couldn’t help but smile.
 

They glanced over when I closed the door.

“Hey, Tricky,” West said with a smile from behind his dark beard.

“There’s breakfast on the stove, if you’re hungry,” Lily added with a smile of her own, pushing her long, blond hair over her shoulder before taking a bite.

“Thanks.” I made my way through the kitchen and grabbed a bowl, savoring the secret about Rose for only a moment before throwing it at them casually. “So, Rose just caught me.”

Everything grew still, and I smiled, my back to them as I spooned the oatmeal into my bowl.
 

“Shit,” Lily said. “What happened?”

“She tried to brain me with your vibrator.” I dumped a spoonful of brown sugar into the bowl and turned to find them both staring at me. “What?” I asked innocently as I took a seat.

Lily’s cheeks were pink. “You’re serious.” It wasn’t a question.

“Dead serious,” I said with a smirk. “That’s a pretty impressive piece, Lil.”

“Oh, my God,” she groaned.
 

I chuckled. “Anyway, we scared the hell out of each other. She was wielding that thing like a nightstick. I don’t know how much damage it would have done, though.”

She laughed, trying to cover her embarrassment. “You’d be surprised at how much destruction a silicone dick loaded with a couple of C batteries can do.” She abandoned her spoon for her coffee mug, wrapping her long fingers around the cup before bringing it to her lips. “What did she say?”

I raised a brow and stirred my breakfast. “Besides ‘
What the fuck are you doing here?’
”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. Besides that.”

I shrugged. “Just wanted to know why I was there, so I explained myself and asked if I could stay for a while.”

Lily watched me expectantly. “And?”

“She said she’d think about it.”

West leaned back in his seat, smirking. “Well, I’d call that a win. Better than death by vibrator.”

Lily snorted. “Depends on how you’re using it.” Her smile fell, and her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. “How mad is she at me?”

“I don’t know if she’s mad, but she’s definitely not happy about it. I told you we should have asked her,” I said as I took a bite.

She made a know-it-all face. “Well, if she wasn’t so prickly when it comes to you, we could have. I’m not using my bed, and you’re not getting sleep. It makes sense. Anyway, better to ask for forgiveness, right?”

“Hopefully she lets me stay.”

Lily gave me a reassuring smile. “I’ll see if I can convince her.”

I smiled back. “Thanks, Lil.” I scooped up another bite. “So, what are you two doing today?”

West set his napkin on the table and let out a satisfied sigh. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Glorious nothing,” Lily added, her face mirroring his. “I’ll start rehearsals for the Saratoga summer season next month, but otherwise, it’s just a lot of this. I’m still holding out for a weekend trip to the Hamptons. Cooper better come through on that for me.” She smiled and stood, picking up her bowl.

West chuckled. “Hell hath no fury.”

She made a face at him, still smiling as she moved to pick up his bowl.

He stopped her as he stood, taking the bowls. “I got this, babe.”

Lily handed over the bowls and reached up on her tip toes to kiss him on the cheek. “I guess I’ll go get ready for the day, then. Leave you boys to gossip. I’ve got to prepare my ass for Rose’s reaming.”

“I’m sure it won’t be so bad,” West said half-heartedly as he rinsed off the dishes.

She snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m prepared for her to eat my face off like a piranha.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “Sounds scary.”

But she waved a hand. “Nah, I can handle it. Plus, I earned it.” And with that, she turned and headed into the bathroom.

I took another bite as West set the bowls in the drying rack. He turned and leaned against the counter with a dish towel slung over his shoulder, shaking his head at me, smiling proudly. “Staying with Rose. How about that?”