Mr. Wrong Number(59)
I just shook my head again and said, “You should hit me.”
He swallowed and sat back on his heels. “So you and Olivia . . . ?”
I nodded, hating myself.
Jack touched the front of his tousled hair. “Dammit, Beck, I think you fucked up my hair.”
“I think your barber fucked up your hair.”
He smiled for a second but it didn’t last.
“So, what? Are you going to dump her?” He sounded jaded, because he knew me well enough to know relationships were not my thing. He’d been there for every single fling I’d ever had. “I mean, of course you are. Did you already?”
“No.” That made a bitter laugh rise in my throat as I remembered her telling me to leave. “Your sister beat me to it.”
He looked a little less angry. “No shit?”
I nodded again. “She dumped me the morning after.”
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He ran a hand over his chin and climbed to his feet. He held out a hand for me and said, “Is that why you’ve been an asshole for the past week?”
I grabbed it and stood. “Have I?”
“You pulled out the entire kitchen faucet because of a drip.” He coughed out a laugh and added, “Like a total psychopath.”
I cleared my throat. “I like the new one, though.”
“Same.” Jack scratched his forehead and said, “So, like . . . what? You’re pissed because she was the one to end things instead of you?”
I sighed, looked at my best friend, and decided to stop lying. “I’m pissed because I kind of, I don’t know, I actually really like her. Maybe.”
He shook his head. “But . . . it’s Livvie.”
“I know.” We’d been a team as long as I’d known him, a team in agreement of the fact that Olivia was a little pain-in-the-ass nutjob. “I can’t believe it myself.”
“Good God.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Well, you better pick up the phone and read her goddamned messages, then. She’s really sorry about something and wants you to go talk to her.”
I leaned down and grabbed the phone with the freshly cracked screen, my eyes staying on Jack. “What are you saying—you’re cool with this?”
“Gross. Fuck. I don’t know.” He made a face like something smelled bad and said, “I know you’re a good guy, so if you really like her and don’t plan on screwing her over, I’m not going to end our friendship over this.”
I was honestly shocked to hear that.
“But I’m gonna need a brain scrub after what I read. Like, the sight of you two together is probably going to make me projectile vomit. Take this as a warning.”
That made me laugh, which made him laugh, too.
“Noted,” I said, feeling so damned relieved that I kind of wanted to hug Jack.
“Vomit fucking everywhere.” He walked out to the living room but kept talking. “A bloodbath, only it’s puke instead of blood.”
“Got it.”
“The Exorcist level of split pea ralphing.”
“It’s puke.” I followed him out of the office and said, “I get it.”
“Did you ever see that scene in Carrie, with the bucket of pig’s blood? It’ll be like that, only instead of pig’s blood—”
“Holy shit, Jack,” I said, laughing. “Will you shut up about the puke already?”
Olivia
My heart was in my throat when I heard the knock. I’d never been intimidated by Colin, but for some reason I was super nervous to apologize.
Probably because he’d waited an hour to respond, and then all he’d texted was K.
I cleared my throat and pulled open the door.
And there he was. His face was serious, hard, unreadable, and so handsome that I was torn between fear and excitement. His hair was kind of a mess, though, and he had a couple red marks on his face.
I said, “Hey. Come on in.”
He walked right at me, making me shuffle backward. He let the door slam behind us as he towered just over me and said, “I’ve got good news and bad news.”
I opened my mouth—what were words?—and closed it again. I hadn’t expected him to say that.
Or to be right up in my personal space.
I managed, “Um. What’s the good news?”
His face softened a little and he gave me a smirk before he said, “I’ve decided to forgive you.”
“Oh. Good.” His smile went hot—and dirty—and made me nervous again but in a different way. I cleared my throat and asked, “Well, what’s the bad news?”
His smile slipped and his blue eyes moved all over my face before he said, “Your brother knows about us.”
“What? Oh, my God!” My mouth dropped open and I couldn’t stop it. “How? How do you know? What did he say?”
He turned away from me and went into my kitchen. “So what’d you do tonight, Marshall? You look nice.”
What?
“Um, thank you. Went on a date.” I stared at his back and begged, “For the love of God, tell me about my brother.”
He grabbed two beers from the fridge and passed one to me, giving me a half smile. “Relax. Tell me about your date first.”