The After of Us (Judge Me Not #4)(5)

But that would not be smart.

I can’t do it. I just can’t. I’m like my brother in that regard—for us, one high is never enough. We seek out the next, and the next, and the next. And I’m really bad. Lines of coke, a hit off a pipe containing, well, anything, I have no boundaries once I get going. That’s why I completely abstained from drugs at school. I never would have made it to graduation had I started down a path riddled with illegal substances.

Even with legal ones, like alcohol, I have to watch.

That’s why I’m in the kitchen right now, away from the booze, away from the drugs, away from girls offering me sex.

“But this is your last night of true freedom, dumbass,” I tell myself.

Call it temporary madness, or maybe it’s just me flat-out giving in to temptation. I don’t know. Blame it on the tequila. Or blame it on my whacked-out nerves. Whatever the case, an urge I can no longer deny compels me to run up to my room and grab a condom from a drawer.

Ten minutes later, I’m in one of those secluded red-rock grottos, far enough from the pool that the splashing sounds are muted. My hands are gripping double Ds’ round ass, and my knees are getting chewed up by sand and concrete. But who the f*ck cares? Not me, because, damn, my cock feels good, really good. And it looks good too, sliding in and out of a sopping-wet * that’s doing a damn fine job of making me feel as close to numb as I’m allowed to get this night.





Will



I finally discover doubleD’s name—it’s Charlie.

“With an i-e,” she tells me in a whiny voice as she works on getting dressed. Well, as dressed as one can get donning a string bikini.

“Cool,” I reply. “Good to know.”

I’m sure I sound distracted, as I’m trying to get my own damn clothes back on.

Charlie—with an i-e—stops me, though, just as I’m slipping my tee over my head.

With her hand pressed to my bare chest, she says, “Wait.”

“What?” I ask.

She caresses my pecs, mmm-ing as she does. “I think we should definitely keep in touch, Will,” she says at last.

Not going to happen.

I tug my shirt down over my chest, forcing her hand away. I really am done with this girl, but there’s no need to be an outright dick about it.

“Uh, you do know I’m leaving for New York City, right?” I say.

This hooking up was a good idea…and a not-so-good idea. Fucking this chick has left me feeling calm and relaxed, sure, but now comes the clingy shit that can make any man question his earlier actions.

“Yeah, I know you’re leaving,” she replies. “But I’m sure you’ll come back to visit your family, right?”

I shrug.

My phone’s lying on the ground, having fallen out of my cargo shorts when I shed them in a rush.

Charlie, following my gaze, snatches it up.

“Here…” She starts tapping on the screen. “Let me just add my number to your contacts. No pressure, okay?”—yeah, right—“Just think about texting me or calling next time you’re in town.”

“Sure, okay.”

Time to get away.

“You had fun tonight, didn’t you?” She raises a brow and gestures to where she was on her hands and knees, taking it like a champ.

I had a fine time, yes, but I downplay it now, lest she start thinking it meant more than it did.

“It was nice, Charlie.” I place my hand on the small of her sweaty back and lead her back to the party area. “I better walk around and mingle,” I say. “I am leaving, after all. And this is my party.”

I think she finally gets the hint that I’m trying to let her down easily.

“Oh, okay. That’s cool.” She peers into the thinning crowd. “Hey, I think I see one of my friends over there, anyway.” She starts to walk away, but then falters and looks back at me. Shooting me a small smile, she says, “Bye, Will.”

“Yeah, see ‘ya.”

God, I am such a dick sometimes, even when I’m trying not to be one.

It’s late—later than I realized—and people are starting to leave en masse. Nash is one of the last to go, but before he takes off he comes over and wishes me good luck with my new job.

“You have fun with Charlie?” he asks with a conspiratorial wink.

“Yeah,” I reply, chuckling. “You could say it was fun.”

“Good.” He pats me on the back. “Hey, we’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

“Sure.”

Nash gives me one of his business cards from the lab. “Text me when you’re back in town.” He waves his hand at a cluster of red plastic cups on one of the tables, unintentionally reminding me that I have a lot of cleaning up to do. “We’ll do this again sometime.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” I tell him.

“Cool. See you around.”

And then he’s gone.

It’s two o’clock in the morning, but since I’m leaving in a few hours, I am far too amped to sleep.

I jog upstairs and take a quick shower to wash away the tequila-laced memories of Miss Double-Ds. Then, I head back outside to start cleaning up the pool area.