Seductive Chaos (Bad Rep #3) (30 page)

“Thanks for the help,” he said after the bartender left to get our order.

“Yeah, sure. You should have called if you needed help,” I said, knowing how stupid that was. Particularly with how he and I had left things.

But Garrett didn’t say anything about that. He just nodded as if I was right.

“How’ve you been?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Been better. You?”

“’Bout the same,” he answered as the bartender brought our pitcher and mugs.

We poured ourselves a beer. Garrett grabbed a handful of peanuts and threw them in his mouth, watching the television screen playing a basketball game in the corner.

“I know you think we’re holding you back. And maybe you’re right. I’ve thought a lot about shit since Sunday and I think you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do,” he said suddenly.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked.

Garrett shrugged, taking his eyes off the TV to look at me. “You and me, we’ve been friends for a long time. And I know you wouldn’t purposefully fuck us over.”

I laughed humorlessly. “Where was this sage wisdom when you were telling me what a dick I was?”

Garrett’s mouth twisted into a sad smile. “I was pissed. You played that damn song when I didn’t want you to. I wasn’t thinking clearly. None of us were. But I’ve had a few days to calm down. And with everything going on, I think we’ve been pretty unfair to you.”

I downed half of my beer. “And do the others agree with you?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Garrett shrugged again. “I doubt it. But Jordan is a hothead, just as you are. And Mitch will go along with whatever Jordan says. That doesn’t mean you weren’t an asshole, because you were. What you did was wrong. But we should never have walked off that stage. And we should never have accused you of trying to push us out. It wasn’t cool. We all have to take some accountability for getting to where we are.”

I didn’t know what to say. This didn’t fix everything that had gone wrong, but I started to feel a whole lot better.

“I think it’s just sad that after everything we’ve been through, it’s going to end over something so fucking stupid. For nothing.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Because we had messed up big time.

“But you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do, Cole. And at the end of the day, I’ll still be here if you need me.”

And that was exactly what I needed to hear.

Garrett finished his beer and slid his empty mug down the bar. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and got to his feet.

“Thanks again for your help. I’ll see you soon, all right?”

I could only nod as he tossed some cash on the bar and with a nod, walked out.

The guy with the least to say always had been the one to make me think the most.

And he had given me something I desperately needed.

Some perspective.

I
t was Saturday night and I was home. By myself.

There was something almost criminal about that.

But lately I wasn’t fit for human interaction. I was moody and prone to irrational outbursts of the colorful language variety. Gracie asked innocently whether I liked her new shoes.

I adored them. They were fabulous and pink and with hot heels that made her legs go on for miles.

But I was suffering from a raging case of crotch face so instead of being the supportive friend, I told her I didn’t care about her stupidly awesome footwear. I had then proceeded to tell her to leave me the fuck alone.

I had stomped off to my room, slammed the door dramatically and then promptly turned around and apologized.

Gracie inquired as to whether Aunt Flo was visiting.

It was a legit question.

But Bitch McGee (that would be me) took offense and stomped off to my room again.

The rest of my week hadn’t been much better. I was short-tempered and emotional. I didn’t know whether I was coming or going.

And I blamed Cole Brandt completely.

This is what happened when I spent time with him. I lost all sense of rational thinking. I became a mess of epic proportions.

I was a flipping psychopath!

It got so bad that Marion had asked, somewhat hesitantly, if I was coming down with something.

I was coming down with something all right. It was called Can’t-Get-Over-A-Man-itis. The main symptoms involved spending an inordinate amount of time wallowing and feeling sorry for yourself.

I should have felt a renewed sense of power! I had put my foot down and not had sex with Cole when he was being all sweet and gorgeous-like.

I had told him what I thought and held firm.

So why was I feeling all sad and depressed with random outbursts of uncontrollable rage?

Because deep down I knew, that even though he drove me crazy, Cole was the only person who made me feel alive. With anyone else, Theo included, I was just going through the motions. With Cole, it was balls to the walls, let’s set the house on fire passion.

And I was terrified with how desperately I wanted that in my life. I was scared at how willing I was to sacrifice just about anything, my pride included, to experience those tantalizing moments when every nerve in my body detonated.

Cole was my crack. And I wanted to crush him up and snort him.

When Gracie had asked me to come to a movie with her and a few of her friends from the coffee shop, I had declined. I chose to ignore the brief look of relief that flittered across her face.

I opted instead to spend my evening with my best friends Ben and Jerry.

I was grunged out in my oldest pair of sweat pants. They were a pink with the faded word “juicy” along the ass. The elastic had given out about twenty washes ago and I had them held up with safety pins. I had gone sans bra and instead wore a Generation Rejects shirt I had ganked from Cole’s floor over a year ago.

And yes I had kept it. And yes I still wore it when I was lonely and depressed like I was now. And yes that made me borderline pathetic.

There was no sense bringing up the fact that I used to try to smell his scent on the cotton for months after I had “mistakenly” brought it home.

Because that would be just plain sad.

I had scrubbed my face and was without any makeup. All in all I wasn’t meant for public eyes.

I was scrapping the last remnants of my icecream from the bottom of the carton with my spoon when the doorbell rang. I startled and almost screamed. Not because I was scared, but because I was in my Juicy sweatpants with no makeup on.

Who in the world would be coming by at eight-thirty on a Saturday night? I prayed it was a group of Jehovah’s Witnesses or an old encyclopedia salesman I could ignore.

I quickly took my hair down and attempted to comb my fingers through it. It was a rat’s nest and desperately needed a deep conditioning. I pulled up my sagging pants and walked over to the door just as the bell chimed again.

I wiped around my mouth trying to remove the evidence of my binge ice cream eating before finally opening the door.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I said before I could censor myself.

“Bad time?” Cole asked, standing on my front stoop, looking gorgeous and clean and nothing at all like the last time I had seen him. He was holding two plastic bags and was wearing a pleased grin.

I thought about slamming the door in his face and hiding in my room but I figured I was capable of rising above such an immature impulse.

“Anytime you show up is a bad time,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest, remembering that I wasn’t wearing a bra and my C cups were flopping away under my T-shirt.

“Is that my shirt?” Cole asked, peering at my chest. I tightened my arms and started to back away.

“No!” I lied.

Cole lifted an eyebrow. “Actually, I think it is! I’ve been looking all over for it!” he accused chidingly.

“Whatever, it’s mine now,” I responded petulantly.

Cole chuckled. “It looks a hell of a lot better on you anyway,” he conceded and I couldn’t argue with the truth.

“Why are you here, Cole? I was having a perfectly good evening spending time with Leonardo DiCaprio and Baked Alaska,” I said, feeling entirely too off balance by his sudden arrival.

I couldn’t figure out what on earth he could be doing at my apartment. Things had been left with little opening for a renewed acquaintance. I thought I had made myself perfectly clear.

I wasn’t going to sleep with him.

No matter how delicious he looked.

Or how nice he smelled.

Or the fact that he brought a bag containing all of the ingredients needed to make Lemon Drops, my favorite cocktail.

“What’s this for?” I asked suspiciously. Was he planning to get me drunk so he could have sex with me? Was this his dastardly plan? If so, I saw right through it. And a horny, masochistic part of me approved.

“You were right,” Cole said suddenly and without preamble.

“I usually am, but what specifically was I right about?” I asked, giving up on trying to hide my braless boobs behind my arms and opted for letting the puppies fly.

And I was also feeling extremely magnanimous so I moved aside, giving Cole silent permission to step inside.

He walked across the threshold and stopped. He looked around, taking everything in.

“This is my first time in your apartment,” he said.

I nodded. “Yes it is,” I agreed.

“We’ve known each other for over two years and I’ve never been here before. Why is that?” he asked as if genuinely confused.

“Because you’re a self-centered jackass,” I offered.

Cole smiled in that sexy, heart-melting way of his and I had to take a deep breath to calm my racing pulse.

“I think you might be on to something there,” he said, dropping the bags onto the coffee table. He took in Romeo and Juliet paused on the television and the three empty ice cream tubs on the floor.

“Shit, you weren’t lying,” he remarked.

“I told you I was having a hot night,” I said dryly, my vanity already kicking me in the ass for choosing comfort over cuteness.

Always prepare for hot guy visits, Vivian! You know better!

Cole seemed entirely too interested in his surroundings. He took a slow perusal of the knick-knacks and framed photographs, stopping to pick up one from my senior year at Rinard. A Chi Delta sister had taken it of Maysie, Gracie and myself when we had dressed as flappers for a mixer.

“Cute,” he said, putting it back. I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. He was making me uncomfortably edgy.

“So what was I right about?” I prompted, getting back to the point of his impromptu visit.

Cole stopped circling the room and came back to stand in front of me. My entire body started to buzz with awareness. It was as though my cells were beating against my skin, demanding that I touch him.

It was so freaking annoying.

“When you said I didn’t know anything about you. I think it’s time I changed that,” Cole said, surprising me.

What was he talking about?

Cole reached out and gently pulled down the stretched out neck of my T-shirt. I tensed up, not sure what he was going to do. He slowly and carefully traced the line of my scar that ran between my breasts.

“You told me I didn’t know how you got this scar. You were right. I didn’t know. And I should have. We have spent the last two years learning every inch of each other’s bodies but I know nothing about who Vivian Baily is. I didn’t think I even wanted to know. But I was wrong. I want to know everything.”

I shivered involuntarily as he lazily traced the puckered skin.

I chuckled nervously. “That will take a while,” I said a little breathlessly.

Cole dropped his finger and smiled. “I’ve got all night. If Leo doesn’t mind, of course,” he grinned.

Did I want him to stay?

I didn’t know!

I was so confused!

My sagging pants slipped below my hips and I hastily pulled them up before Cole got an eyeful of my granny panties.

Oh shit, I was wearing granny panties!

Just more incentive to keep my pants
on!

“Why?” I asked, not entirely trusting his motives.

Cole sighed and that vulnerability I had only just become acquainted with made itself known.

“Because it’s lonely thinking and worrying only about yourself. I’ve missed out on a lot. One of the biggest is getting to know you. We’ve fucked but we’ve never really hung out. I’ve told you my shit but you’ve never told me yours. This has been a purely one-sided relationship for entirely too long. I know you kicked me out of your life. I know you’ve made it clear you want nothing to do with me. But please, Viv, just give me one night to know you. To figure out what’s going on inside that beautiful head of yours. I want to show you that I’m not all bad. That I can be a nice guy. And if at the end you still want me gone, I’ll leave. You’ll never have to see me again.”

It sounded simple enough, but nothing with Cole was ever free of conditions.

“No sex,” I said firmly, pointing at him in warning.

Cole held up his hands. “No, sex. Well, not unless you ask nicely,” he teased and I groaned, rolling my eyes.

“Can I put this stuff in your kitchen?” he asked, holding up the plastic bags.