Tamed(52)

That she’s changed my life. That I want to share the rest of it with her. That nothing looks or feels the way it did four weeks ago—because of her—it’s unbelievably better. I don’t think she’ll freak out, although it’s possible. If she does, I’ll tell her she doesn’t have to say anything back. I’m a pretty patient guy. I can wait.

Then we’ll make out. And it’ll be awesome. Sex on the beach isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sand is not a friend to genitalia. But . . . if Dee is interested, I’m sure as hell not going to turn her down.



When I hear my unlocked apartment door open, I check my hair in the bathroom mirror. All good. Then I walk out to the living room. Smiling—until I see Delores’s face.

She’s furious. The teeth-grinding, pacing, nostrils flaring kind of fury. And words shoot out of her mouth—like a hail of bullets. That I walk right into.

“Your friend is an *! And I want you to tell me where I can find him.”

“Which friend?”

“Drew-I’m-gonna-cut-his-pecker-off-and-feed-it-to-him-Evans.

I chuckle, even though I shouldn’t. “Easy there, Lorena Bobbitt. Calm down.”

Calm down. What the hell am I thinking? Those two words are like pouring water on a grease fire—just makes it hotter. It’s the second most direct way to piss a woman off even more than she already is. The first, of course, is to ask if she’s on the rag.

“Calm down? You want me to calm down?” Dee yells.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me, you insensitive ass, is I just left Kate’s apartment. She’s wrecked—completely devastated. Because your buddy, Drew, played her like a violin and then treated her like a whore that he couldn’t even be bothered to pay afterward.”

I knew Drew had a thing for Kate, but still, I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “Drew and Kate hooked up?”

Dee crosses her arms. “They sure did. He’s been all comforting and kind to her since the breakup with Billy. Made her believe he actually gave a shit. She spent the weekend at his apartment. And then this morning, after they got to work, he pretty much told her she sucked in bed—wasn’t worth another go around.”

I press my fingers to my forehead, trying to digest the information Dee’s telling me—that just doesn’t make any sense. Drew doesn’t take women to his apartment, any woman. Drew doesn’t screw the same chick twice . . . at least . . . not if he remembers he’s already done her. And spending the weekend with a girl? No frigging way.

“Are you sure Kate said Drew?” I ask.

“He called her a f*cking ‘project,’ Matthew! One that he was ‘done with.’ And I’m gonna make a project out of his face. Kate is the best person I know. She puts on a tough front, but inside she’s soft. Breakable. He doesn’t get to treat her like this.”

Underneath Dee’s anger, there’s pain. She’s hurting, because her friend is hurting. I move forward to touch her, to comfort and calm her, but she steps back.

I put my hands up in surrender and try to reason with her. “Drew’s not that kind of *, Dee. He has a lot of respect for women . . . in his own way. He likes to have a good time, no hard feelings. He doesn’t get off on making girls feel bad about themselves. He wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt someone, especially . . . Jesus, especially not Kate.”

“Well he did!”

I shake my head. “Kate must’ve misunderstood him.”

For a moment she just stares. Her gaze rakes over me, up and down, like she’s seeing me for the first time. Then her expression changes from righteous fury to cold disbelief.

And her voice drops to a harsh whisper. “Are you defending him?”

“He’s my best friend. Of course I’m defending him!”

Her chin lifts sharply, almost like she’s absorbing an uppercut. She hisses, “Well then f*ck you too!”

“Excuse me?”

“If you think there’s nothing wrong with what he did then you’re not the person I thought you were. Not even close.”

And I shout, “Are you f*cking serious right now?”

“Yes! A serious idiot is what I am. To think that I let myself believe . . . I should’ve never let things get this far. We’re done Matthew. Don’t come to my apartment; don’t call me! You and your * friend can just stay the hell away from us!”

Her words hit me like a sledgehammer to the stomach. They’re wrenching. Bruising. And f*cking maddening. Dee’s rant continues, but I’m not listening anymore. All I think about is how stupid I’ve been.

Blind.

Again.

It’s almost funny, in a depressing, ironic kind of way. Dee told me—more than once—that she couldn’t do this. That her relationships never ended on a happy note. But I didn’t listen. I heard what I wanted to hear and believed I could change her mind. That if I was charming enough, smooth enough, she’d see—like I did—how great we could be together.

What a f*cking moron.

It’s really no different than Rosaline. The red flags may not have been there for the same reasons—but they were there. And I missed them.

“Goddammit!” I kick the coffee table but it doesn’t break. So I kick it again—until it does. The leg collapses and the glass top cracks against the floor, bringing Delores’s rant to an immediate stop.