Looking to Score(65)

It hurt to watch, but it also angered me. And apparently, it angered others, too. The hashtag #FuckChuck was trending across various platforms. A quick check of my email showed that a few news sources wanted an exclusive with Oakley. I reached for Oakley’s phone and saw hundreds of missed calls, the latest one from Dale.

On a whim, I called him back. “Dude, where are you? Our flight leaves in an hour,” he answered in a rush.

“Hello, Dale,” I scolded like a sinister villain about to feed her opponent to sharks. “I’m so glad we could talk.”

“Fuck, Balls. I’m so sorry. I just wanted to see a girl I went to high school with. A man has needs.”

Yep. I was going to kill Dale. “That is the most bullshit excuse I’ve ever heard in my life. You got a right hand, Dale?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How about a left hand. You got one of those?”

I could feel his shame through the phone. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Next time you think about ruining somebody’s future for some pussy, I want you to wrap one of those hands around your tiny little cock and do the two bump chump into a tissue like normal horny assholes.”

“I’m more than a two bump chump—”

“I highly doubt it,” I snarled.

“But I fixed it! Didn’t you see the video?” he sputtered.

“You uploaded that?” I asked incredulously. “How?”

“The girl I was with. She caught it on camera, and we bailed when the cops showed up. You probably didn’t see us. I figured if everyone knew the truth, it would help.”

I let out a slow exhale. “And you didn’t think that I wouldn’t want my naked video to go viral?” It was mostly blurred out so people couldn’t see the actual footage, but I bet it was only a matter of time until it resurfaced.

“Well…” he replied, dumbfounded. “No. No, I didn’t. Want her to take it down?”

“It’s too late, Dale,” I shouted, making Oakley stir. Good. I was ready for a nice long chat with him. “It’s out there, and you’re lucky my hooha isn’t clearly visible, or I would have filled your sinuses with urine and boiled your teeth.”

“Fuck, Balls. That's terrifying. Who even says shit like that?”

“Oh, you have no idea. Looking forward to chatting again. Try not to do anything stupid during your flight home,” I said as I clicked the little red button to disconnect the call.

I turned to look at Oakley, who snapped his eyes closed the moment I saw him. “If you think pretending to sleep is going to help, I still have some good threats left in me,” I growled.

“Fuck. How bad is it? Where are we? What did I do last night?” he asked in a groggy voice that had no business sounding as sexy as it did.

“Well, you’re not in jail, so it could be worse,” I started. Oakley winced when I mentioned jail. “You went out to the bars last night. Do you remember anything?”

“Uhhh, yeah. I do,” Oakley said as he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. I waited for him to elaborate.

“Well?” I prodded when he didn’t volunteer anything on his own.

“I’m so sorry, Amanda. I know I promised I wouldn’t party anymore,” he began. He paused and looked like he was trying to find the right words to say. I gave him what I hoped was an encouraging look, but I was tired and still kind of raw. I probably looked about as reassuring as a grizzly bear.

“I thought that I lost you and ruined my career all on the same day. It’s not an excuse, but I was so mad at myself. I was devastated and didn’t want to feel anything anymore,” Oakley finished.

His vulnerability completely melted my heart, and I wrapped my arms around Oakley, squeezing him tight. My penis fly trap started to tingle, excited to be this close to Oakley again. I willed it to settle down, as it clearly had no concept of timing.

“I’m sorry too. I was so focused on myself that I completely shut you out, and I wasn’t there for you,” I told him. “I just didn’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to shut me out,” he whispered. “I’m here for you, babe.”

“Do you remember Legacy?” I asked. “Or the other girls hanging all over you? That stung.” I had empathy for needing to forget, but it still hurt to see him so drunk he didn’t realize that a bunch of women were circling him like hawks.

“I remember the girl of my dreams waltzing into that bar, wearing the cutest—no—sexiest pajamas I’ve ever seen. I remember her taking charge. Being there for me. I remember seeing you tell that girl off while still being the better person.”

“Your memory is impeccable for someone who drank an entire bottle of vodka,” I spat.

Oakley reached out and pulled me on top of him, bringing his mouth to mine for a makeup kiss that was laced with stale alcohol and morning breath. I didn’t even care, I just wanted more.

I let my hands wander over Oakley’s delicious muscles as I deepened our kiss. I let out a small gasp as his hand slipped under my shirt and found the contour of my breast, teasing my nipple with his thumb.

I was still kind of mad. Still kind of hurt. But mostly, I was still kind of falling for this man.

He pulled away from my mouth and started kissing my stomach, slowly working his way down. He reached the line of fabric where my panties met my skin and took them in his teeth—right as my mom came through the bedroom door, saying something about breakfast.