More Than This (More Than, #1)(2)

***


After a good ten minutes of photos, and my dad retelling the humiliation of the shit they just pulled on me, we’re out of the house and on our way to Bistro’s. It’s an Italian restaurant downtown that’s famous for loud atmosphere and big tables for large groups. Perfect for pre-prom dinner.

When we get to the restaurant we notice a few other tables with kids our age all dressed up. We don’t recognize them, they must go to different schools. The place reeks of new garments, cheap cologne, overpowering perfume, hair product and sexual tension. It’s everything prom should be.

We find our table and sit with Andrew and Sean, two of James’ friends from his Basketball team, and their girlfriends.

Megan decided to go stag. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been asked, about a trillion different guys asked her. She said she wanted to keep her options open. She didn’t want to go with some guy because he was hot, only to find out he was a dick throughout the night and then have to put out at the end, her words.


We make small talk until the waiter comes and takes our order. The place is loud with conversation, like you would expect with a bunch of teenagers in the room. Once we’ve all placed our order, James stands up, “Where’s the toilet in this place? I need to take a leak, that champagne from the limo’s gone straight through me,” charming as always.

“I’ll show you, I need to use the ladies to re-adjust my underwear. It’s riding up my ass,” Megan states loudly.

They walk away towards the back of the restaurant, where the restrooms are.


I’m in the middle of talking to Andrew about the new gym they’re building at the school, when I feel something wet trickle down my back. Im frozen for a second, then turn to find some dude in a tux looking at me wide eyed, half a glass of beer in his hand. The other half, I’m sure, is down my back.

“Shit, babe. I’m sorry,” wide eyed douche bag says. Babe? Really? This guy has to be a joke.

“Jesus Christ, Logan. Turn down the * a little, would ya?” his friend behind him says. He has an accent, like English or South African or Australian or something.

Logan, I assume, turns around to face him so quickly, his hand holding the remains of his beer slams against accent boys broad chest. Beer spills on the crispy white shirt under his open tux jacket.

Logan stifles a laugh. Accent boy groans and pushes Logan to the side, heading to the back of the restaurant, towards the restrooms I presume. “Naw, don’t be like that, Jakey,” Logan coos.

I stand up to go to the restroom to see if this night/dress is worth salvaging. Douchebag Logan blocks my way. He eyes me up and down, and walks a slow circle around me. He comes to a stop in front of me and a small smirk pulls at his lips, “Well, hello there, little lady,” he drawls.

I physically push him out of the way and head towards the restroom. I’m wearing a backless dress. It’s halter style, all black, it reconnects just above my ass, so close to it that there’s no room for underwear just in case. Because of this, I’m hoping, fingers crossed, that the beer has just spilt on my back and not the dress. I’ll be able to clean my bare back at least. More than I can say for the kid with the accent.

As I turn into the hallway where the restrooms are, I stop in my tracks. Megan is halfway out the door of the ladies room. She’s adjusting her dress slightly, her hair is in shambles and her lipstick is smeared all around her lips. She’s giggling and her hands come up slowly, most likely to the face of some random guy she’s just hooked up with.

Megan is every guys walking wet dream. She’s your typical tall, leggy, blond haired, blue eyed, sex on legs. And she loves sex, and has sex, so much sex.

So, it doesn’t surprise me at all that we’ve been here all of fifteen minutes and she’s been doing god knows what, with some random dude, in a public bathroom. What does surprise me though, as I get closer to her, is that it’s not some random guy her hands are on, it’s James, my boyfriend. Her hands are on his face, cleaning the smeared lipstick from around his mouth. My eyes are drawn to his hands, which are at the front of his pants. He tucks ‘himself’ back in and does his fly up.

I feel the vomit creeping up my throat and make a noise trying to keep it down. The noise must be loud enough to distract them. It almost feels like slow motion, they both turn to face me at the same time, their eyes huge, mouths hanging open.

Like they’re surprised I’m intruding on their intimate f*cking moment.





Chapter 2


Jake


Fuck, Logan can be an * sometimes.

I’m in the bathroom doing everything I can to save this beer stained shirt that’s clinging to my body. There’s nothing I can do about it, it’s dunzo.

I take off my tux jacket and start undoing the buttons of the shirt, hoping the tank I have on underneath will be okay. I’ll have to run home and grab a new shirt. Luckily, Mom is always prepared for this kind of stuff and has a spare ready to go.

I can’t believe Logan did that, and all to get that girl’s attention. I mean, I get it, I noticed her the minute she walked in the door, smiling up at the kid who’s hand she was holding. She walked in with another guy, you’d think that was enough of a sign to call the game off. But not for Logan. The minute her boyfriend, or whatever, left her side it was game on. I followed him for a laugh, I wasn’t supposed to end up here.