Confessions of a Bad Boy(4)

It’s almost enough to make me forget that I’m here to meet someone: Kyle. My best friend since childhood, and the only person who I’d stand at the edge of a party doing nothing for. Even though all I want to do right now is get my hands on whatever that blonde is hiding under her dress. As an ex-linebacker with a short temper, though, Kyle’s not the kind of person I’d disappoint even if he wasn’t my friend.

I check my watch – he’s almost an hour late.

“Nice watch,” comes a voice a few feet away.

I look up, taking my time, eyes lingering on a perfect pair of olive-toned legs, a little black dress that emphasizes the ‘little,’ and a pair of large, brown eyes that make you feel like someone turned a spotlight on you.

“I like things that are built well,” I say, smiling at her.

“It’s nice to meet a man with good taste.”

I take another look at her figure, leaning on one leg, a hand against her hip, her other holding up her martini. Time’s up, Kyle.

“Men need to have good taste,” I say, stepping a little closer and bringing my voice down, “after all, we’re not lucky enough to be as beautiful as women.”

She giggles a little, her pink lips parting softly in a way that makes my balls ache.

“I dunno,” she says almost in a whisper, “you’re kinda cute.”

“Then we’ve got something in common,” I say, moving in even closer and putting a hand against her waist.

“I’m Sophia.”

Just before I can tell her my name, I hear it called out in the last voice I want to hear right now.

“Nate!”

It’s a husky, energetic voice that I know much better than I ever wanted to. I turn towards it, only because I can’t really believe it’s her.

“Jessie?” I say, as she marches towards me.

“Where’s Kyle?”

“I don’t know. He should have been here already. Traffic?”

“Ugh!” Jessie groans, slumping her shoulders. “I’ve been texting him all night and he won’t respond. Can you try?”

“Jessie,” I say, controlling my impulse to throw her over the railing only because it wouldn’t look good in front of Sophia, “now’s not a good time. Why are you even here?”

“Who’s this?” Sophia whispers in my ear, her eyes darting over to Jessie.

Before I can explain that she’s just a friend, Jessie senses the opportunity to screw me over – a thing she’s always been happy and willing to do.

“Who am I?” she says with mock-bitchiness to the beautiful girl in the tiny dress. “Who are you? I’m his wife of fifteen years. We have three children together. And he sold one of them to afford that suit he’s wearing.”

“What?” Sophia sputters, jerking her hand away from my arm.

“No. She’s not – I can explain,” I say, looking at Sophia pleadingly. Begging has never been a good look for me though. Before I can get anything else out, she shoots me a look of utter disgust before walking away far quicker than you’d expect in heels that high.

“Wait, Sophia! She’s not my wife, she’s just—” But she’s gone, and I turn back to Jessie. “Just my best friend’s annoying kid sister who hasn’t matured in the fifteen years I’ve known her.”

Jessie grins, snatches my beer out of my hands and swigs from it.

“What the hell are you doing here, Jessie? Besides ruining my night?” I snatch my beer back from her, and realize that it’s empty now.

“I told you, I’m looking for Kyle. I’ve got a feeling that he’s avoiding me.”

“He’s got the right idea. How did you even get in here dressed like that?”

I nod at her outfit. Jean cut-offs and a plaid shirt tied in a knot over a torn-up old band t-shirt, just short enough to tease the line of her hips, just soft enough to fall over the gaze-stealing teardrops of her breasts. Her dark, wavy hair makes her look like she just rolled out of bed, and her wrists are stacked with the kind of bangles and bracelets that you’d get in the kid’s section of a dollar store. It’s the kind of edgy-sexy, rocker chick look I normally can’t resist, but Jessie is, after all, like a sister to me. Which is why I drag my eyes away from her body and focus on the party still raging all around us.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says sarcastically, “I forgot to bring my Tiffany dress with the push-up bra. Am I not slutty enough for your Hollywood parties, Mr. Big-Shot Talent Agent?”

“No. It’s just that unless nineties grunge music is going to make a comeback in the next ten minutes, you look ridiculous. And for future reference, Tiffany sells jewelry – not clothes.”

“I look ridiculous? Look at you! That suit! Everything’s so…meticulous. Not a thread or a hair out of place. And so clean! It’s psychopathic. You look like a piece of furniture.”

I look up at the night sky, close my eyes, and take a deep breath.

“Well, thanks for scintillating conversation, Jessie. It’s always a pleasure. Take care of yourself.”

I start walking.

“Hey!” she calls out as she quickly catches up to me. “Where are you going?”

“First, I’m going to get myself another drink. Then I’m going to select one of these astonishingly beautiful women to come back to my apartment. And then I’m going to drink a Red Bull or three because lord knows I’m gonna be up all night long having fantastic—”