Don't Hate the Player...Hate the Game(34)

At her words, a shudder ran through me. Just the thought that she wanted a connection to Jake through screwing me was like a douse of prickly ice water crashing over me. What the hell was I doing? Presley was Jake’s girl—at least one of his girls. More importantly, she was the last girl he had been with before he gave up sex. Now here I was being the ultimate backstabbing douche by making out with her and getting a partial hand-job.

I knocked Presley’s hand away. “Stop it.”

Her blonde brows rose in shock. “Don’t you want me?”

Running my hand through my already disheveled hair, I grunted. “Of course I want you. You just brought me from half-mast to raging hard-on.” I shook my head. “But don’t you realize how incredibly f**ked up this is? You were Jake’s…girl, and I’m his best friend. We can’t screw each other to make our grief go away.”

My mouth fell open when embarrassment tinged Presley’s cheeks pink. I don’t think I’d ever seen her blush in my life. “Yes Noah, I know.” She jerked her chin up to stare sadly at me. “I’m perfectly aware how incredibly f**ked up am I without Jake. I don’t sleep. I barely eat, even though I know I should. I’m so scared and alone. I need some way to deal with it, and this—” she motioned to the bed and our rumpled clothes. “This is all I know to do to make things better—to feel anything with someone.”

Mascara blackened tears ran down her cheeks, and her shoulders began to rise and fall with her sobs. That familiar suffocating feeling crept on me, but I fought like hell not to let it come over me. Reaching over, I handed Presley the box of tissues off her nightstand. After she’d wiped her eyes and blown her nose, she stared intently at me. “Have you heard that there’s some big secret going around about something Jake had in his room?”

Uh, oh. “Well, yeah, maybe.”

Presley’s brows rose in surprise. “Do you know what it is?”

“I was there when it was found.”

She gasped. “What is it?”

“Nothing much,” I lied.

“Please tell me. I promise, it’ll be our little secret.”

Trying to keep her from riding my ass, I teased, “Like your lack of underwear?”

She laughed. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I said that to you earlier. But hey, me not wearing panties isn’t that huge secret, but sure, we can say we’ll keep it between us.”

My mind whirled with thoughts. I knew I probably shouldn’t tell Presley, but at the same time, it was probably the quickest way to find out if she was the one. “Um, they found a ring,” I admitted.

Presley stared at me in disbelief. “A ring? What kind of ring?”

“Just a ring,” I replied.

“Come on, Noah. You can tell me what kind of ring it was.”

I sighed. “It was an engagement ring, okay? A one carat engagement ring.”

What she said next floored me. “That’s it?”

“That’s it?” I repeated dumbly. I shook my head. “Yeah, that’s it. Did you expect something else? Like a car or a yacht?”

She laughed nervously. “No, I wasn’t thinking that.” She shrugged. “Do you know who it’s for?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm.”

I drew in a breath. “So did you guys have like a song or something?”

“Huh?”

“Like a song that meant something to you.”

When she nodded, my heart surged in my chest. This was it.

“It was Crash by Dave Matthews.”

I exhaled like a deflated balloon. “Are you sure?”

Presley laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure. We played it every time we…were together.”

“I see.”

She shifted on the bed and stared down at her manicured nails. “Noah, I really want to thank you for putting the brakes on us tonight and for comforting me.”

“You don’t have to thank me. That’s what friends are for.”

Presley smiled. “And since you were such a good friend to Jake and now to me, there’s something I want to tell you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I-uh, it’s—” she began when the bedroom door flung open and Blaine and a Freshman girl fell inside.

Blaine stared at us with eyes swimming in booze. “Whoops! I thought this room was free.” He glanced at the two of us before wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I stood up. “Yeah, I was just leaving.”

“Hey, no need to rush. We can all party together,” Blaine argued.

“No, man, I don’t think so.” I turned to look at Presley. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, catch you later.”

As I started to the car, I realized that I’d learned two things that night....Presley wasn't the girl, and after learning about Crash and their sex habits, I would be forever scarred from Dave Matthews.

***

Chapter Twelve

After my escapade on Friday night, I spent most of Saturday partially hung-over and in a shitty mood. Luckily, Mom was on call, so I had the house to myself. With everything that had been going on with the headache that was the investigation into her, I hadn’t had time to focus on my personal life, or more importantly, the specter of Greg. Mom and I skirted around the issue—especially after the couch incident. I could tell she was still mortified because whenever she would glance at my wounded eyebrow, she’d blush.