Sidelined (11 page)

Maybe I should turn off the Gilmore Girls reruns.

Oh,
interrupts my heart.
But this episode is when Rory kisses Jesse!

Ohhhhhh,
flutters my body.

Dammit. Why does it have to be this episode?

I mute the sound instead of turning it off and pull my laptop onto my lap from the coffee table. With my book open on the cushion next to me, I grab my folder and apply the notes and arguments from them both to the essay question.

And type.

And type.

And type.

With occasional looks up to the TV so I don’t miss the Rory-Jesse kiss. Because. Priorities.

Thankfully, I’m fast at typing, so as soon as Rory and Jesse kiss, I should be able to get this done in time to get the new episode of New Girl on catch-up.

Again: priorities.

Mine may be slightly skewed.

At around two thousand words and some hour and a half later, my phone rings from the sofa arm. I cancel the call without checking it and continue typing. I’m in the zone, dammit. Why do people always have to call when you’re right there and the words are like, “Heytypemerightnow?”

I hate that.

Second note to self: Put phone on silent before you do schoolwork. Idiot.

Third note to self: Get Post-its to write down these notes to self.

I brush my bangs from my forehead as my phone rings again. This time, I ignore it, letting it buzz-buzz-buzz incessantly. Every now and then, the buzzing stops, but within ten seconds, it starts again. I manage to claw another five hundred words from my brain over fifteen minutes before the buzzing finally drives me crazy and I save the document.

“Fuck me. What?” I snap down the line.

“Baby, you offerin’ again?”

Jack.
My skin tingles.

“Not in the slightest,” I reply. “Why are you calling me?”

“Been five days.”

“Great to know you have stellar timekeeping.”

“You haven’t called.”

“You know, for Christmas, if you’re lucky, I’ll buy you a shirt that proclaims you Captain Obvious,” I mutter. “I’ve been busy, and if you didn’t realize, you were in Boston this weekend.”

He laughs low, and even down the phone, it makes me shiver. “I know, M. But I’m back now, and I don’t see any calls from you on my phone.”

“So, you’re taking matters into your own hands, huh?”

“Sounds ‘bout right.”

“Well, I have a long-ass essay due tomorrow, so kindly unhand those matters so I can finish my work. Thank you and goodbye.” I hang up and put the phone facedown.

But I forget to turn it to silent, so it’s completely fucking useless, because he calls back instantly.

“Jackkkkk,” I groan into the phone. “Seriously, I’m trying to work here.”

“I know, M. Can I finish before you hang up on me?”

“I didn’t realize you were starting anything,” I sigh.

“I’m always starting something with you, baby.” His voice rumbles down the line, seductive and full of promise. “And now, I’m giving you fair warning. I’m coming ‘round tonight, and you’re going to finish your essay. Then I’m going to feed you, and you’re going to fuck me. How’s that for a Monday night?”

“Damn better than Monday morning,” I admit. “But I really, really have to get this done with no distractions. So, sorry. No. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Bullshit. It’s been just under a fucking week and you haven’t called once. Sick of you calling my bluff, baby, so I’m calling yours. You got two choices: I come over or I come over. What do you pick?”

Three loud knocks sound at my door, and I get up. “I’d like to put it to the public vote.” I rest my hand on the door handle and pull it down. “And I swear to shit, Jack. If this is you at my fucking door—”

But it isn’t.

Fuck.

It isn’t.

“What the…” I breathe, staring at the guy in front of me.

Perfectly coiffed, light-brown hair. Clean jaw. Soft, brown eyes.

My heart pounds painfully in my chest, and I can hear Jack saying my name into my ear, but all I can focus on is the rush of blood around my body and the tightness of my throat. The utter disbelief tinged with bitterness and betrayal flooding through my veins, each pound more deafening and consuming in the last.

“What the
hell
are you doing here?”

Mitch lifts a hand toward my face. It hovers then for a moment, and I freeze, my eyes falling on it. He inches it toward me before pausing. Then he drops it.

“Mace, we gotta talk, baby.”

My gaze moves from his hand at his side up to his eyes. “I’m not your fucking baby, asshole.”

Then I slam the door in his face.

A
loud bang travels down the line and I freeze.

“M? Baby?” I half yell, drawing the attention of people around me. “Fuckin’ talk to me, dammit!”

“On second thought,” she finally replies, totally calm. “Come on over. Bring tequila. And lemons. A lot of lemons.”

“I bought a big-ass bottle of tequila last week.”

“Yeah, well.” A cabinet door shuts. “Chances are it’s gonna be gone by the time you get here.”

Then the line goes dead.

Fuck.

It doesn’t take a fucking genius to work out who was just at her apartment. And he better hope that his sorry, cheating ass is far away from her by the time I get there.

I shove the cart around to the alcohol aisle and grab a bottle of tequila before I dial Leah’s number.

“What’s up, buttercup?” she answers.

“Macey’s favorite comfort food. Now.”

“What?”

“Fuck, Leah. I don’t have time for your shit.”

“Warm cookie dough,” she replies hurriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“Call her in one hour.” I hang up and swing the cart to the register. I pay for my items and all but throw the bags in the trunk of the car.

And I swear to fuck I’ve never driven out of a parking lot as fast as I am right now.

I honk my horn several times because I actually want this fucktard to be there when I get there. I want to walk past him and know I’m walking up to her while he’s walking down from her.

I slam the brakes in the lot outside Macey’s apartment and grab the grocery bags from the trunk. I’ve barely pressed the buzzer when the door opens, but it isn’t from Macey. The guy walking through it is tall, clean cut, and well kept, and the look on his face is nothing short of pissed off.

He looks up, our eyes meeting briefly, and passes me. I grab the door to stop it from closing, and I’m halfway through it when he says, “Jack Carr, right?”

I turn my face toward the guy. “That’s me. Who’s askin’?”

“You going up to see Macey?”

“Who’s askin’?” I repeat, my voice hardening.

This is the fucker whp broke her.

“The guy she dated for three years.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a real fuckin’ shame for you that she isn’t dating you anymore, huh?” I raise my eyebrows. “Now, you gonna get your ass the fuck away from my girl or do I hafta make you, Mitch?”

His face whitens. I’m not sure if it’s the deliberate use of his name or the even more deliberate use of “my girl” when referring to Macey.

His jaw tightens enough to let me know that the pissed off of three minutes ago is nothing compared to the pissed off of now. But that’s cool, because his bullshit attempt at scaring me away from her has pissed
me
off, and both of us know that my pissed off is a helluva lot scarier than his.

I watch as he unlocks a BMW across the street and climbs in. When the sports car pulls away, I pull the door shut behind me and take the stairs two at a time up to Macey’s apartment, where I knock twice.

“Who is it?” she asks.

“It’s me,” I reply, grasping the doorframe.

The door opens slowly, and she looks up at me. Whatever smartass remark I was about to make dies when I look into her eyes. They’ve lost a little of their sparkle. They’re duller, somehow darker, full of shock and disbelief.

“Are you all right?” I ask softly.

“The tequila bottle’s empty,” she mutters.

That’s a no.

I push her back into her apartment and shut the door behind me. After walking into the kitchen, I put the bags on the table and turn to her. I open my arms.

She stares at them for a moment, then all but falls into my body.

I tightly wind my arms around her. I know how she feels—fuck, I know. The first time I saw Lucy after I caught her in bed with that fucking freshman cut me to the core, and despite the time that has passed, I’d bet anything this is the first time Macey has seen that asshole since.

And she’s trembling. Like little fucking leaves in a gentle breeze, her hands are shaking where they’re flattened on my lower back, and she can’t possibly get any closer to me.

“Fuckwit,” she mutters into my chest. “Fucking fucktard fuckwit assfucking bastard!”

Macey pushes off me and makes a beeline for the tequila bottle. I reach my arm out to stop her and curl my fingers around her waist. In half a second, I tug her back and into me. Her ass tucks against my pelvis, and her back flattens against my chest. She’s stiff and tense, her fingers clawing at my arm.

“Get the hell off me, Jack.”

“Baby,” I say low, wrapping my other arm around her shoulders and lowering my mouth to her ear. “Nice try.”

“Get. Off. Me.”

“No way. Not until I know you’re going to calm down.”

“Calm down? He turns up at my door and you want me to calm down?” she shrieks, twisting and turning her body in my hold. “Let me go!”

I tighten my arms around her and kiss the spot where her jaw meets her ear. It’s a featherlight touch, the total opposite of what I want to do but exactly what she needs. Somehow, I know she needs it. Soft and gentle to cancel out the harshness of his unexpected visit.

Slowly, I kiss down her jaw. I dip my head to reach her tender, tickly spots at the top of her neck, just under her jaw, and dot easy, openmouthed kisses across her skin until she relaxes a little more.

“Macey!” Leah bursts through the front door, and I groan. “What’s going on?”

“Apparently someone doesn’t understand ‘call in an hour,’” I mutter into Macey’s neck.

“You!” Leah points a key at me. “You do not get to call me, demand my best friend’s favorite fucking comfort food, and tell me to call in an hour before hanging up on me!”

“You got cookie dough?” Macey asks, turning her face toward mine.

“Well, yeah, babe.”

“Awesome,” Corey says, shutting the door. “Because I just got an ‘I owe you’ on a blow job to come down here, so can someone please start talkin’ so I can call it in?”

“Mace?” Leah says, looking at her. “What’s going on?”

“You want the long or the short version?”

“Short,” Corey interjects.

“Okay.” She huffs. “Mitch turned up at my door when I was on the phone to Jack, and now, he’s gone and Jack is holding me hostage because I’m apparently a danger to myself.”