Thoughtful (Thoughtless, #1.5)(130)

The girl giggled and pulled my face into her breasts. “Oh, well, that makes sense, I guess.” I glanced over at Kiera. When our eyes met, I gave her a look that let her know I knew she knew her.

It was wrong and petty, but purely out of spite, I stayed close to the girl all night long, and when we left the bar at closing time, we went straight back to my place and indulged in some after-hours fun. I liked the fact that I knew it would drive Kiera crazy to hear us together. And the girl played her part well—she was one of the most vocal women I’d ever been with.

But even still, after my date left, I felt bad about the encounter, and even lonelier than before. Everything I was doing to try to help me forget Kiera was having the opposite effect. I was thinking about her more and more. How much longer could I keep this going?

The following Monday, Pete decided to institute Griffin’s marketing suggestion to get more people into the bar during the week—two-dollar shots until midnight. At the time, I’d thought Pete was crazy for listening to any idea that came out of Griffin’s mouth, but I had to hand it to my bassist, he was right about this one. The bar was packed.

Of course, the real reason behind Griffin’s recommendation became apparent easily enough; the bar was bursting with buzzed college girls, Griffin’s preferred dating “target,” although he was having a hard time finding anyone who could live up to Anna in his eyes. Kiera’s sister had raised the bar for him, and everyone else was falling short. For the first time ever, Griffin was frustrated over the lack of good poon in Seattle. His words, not mine.

He was giving it the ol’ college try though. He had a pair of blond sorority types giggling in the corner. Matt and Evan were having a good time too. Evan was fawning over a girl who’d come in over the weekend, and Matt was talking to a girl so tiny, I think I could lift her in the air with one hand, possibly one finger. As for me, I was making do with the best of a bad situation the only way I knew how. I was lining up a date for the evening with a cute brunette who’d been all over me all night. She was a touch aggressive—she’d already asked me if I wanted to go down on her in the back room—but I didn’t care. The more forceful the girl was, the easier it was for me to get lost.

I’d turned down her suggestion of the back room. For one, I’d go home alone if I had sex with her right now, and I didn’t want to be alone tonight. And secondly, it felt wrong to do it here, in Kiera’s workplace, while Kiera was here. It would be akin to taking someone on her bed. I don’t know, even though things were kind of snarky between us, it just felt off-limits to me.

Kiera had been mainly ignoring me while I’d been sussing out my companion for the night, but it was clearly a forced reaction. I could tell she wanted to openly glare at me, wanted to go off on me, she just didn’t have a reason to.

I was minding my own business, heading to the restroom, when Kiera finally spoke to me; these were the first direct words she’d said in a while, and after they registered, I wished she’d kept her damn mouth shut.

“Wanna try keeping it in your pants, Kyle?”

Stopping in my tracks, I turned around. Did she seriously just say that to me? Did she have any idea how hypocritical those words were, coming from her mouth? Denny’s failed attempt to talk to me about my dating habits—at Kiera’s request—flooded my mind. She had no right to talk to me that way.

“That’s rich,” I laughed, anger filling my veins.

“What?” Her tone was blank, but her eyes were as fiery as mine. She was ticked, and she had no right to be.

I walked over to where she was standing at an empty table. Grabbing her arm, I pulled her close to me. We hadn’t been this close in a while, and my heart started beating harder. No. I would not let her affect me. I would not let her in. Kiera tensed, and I didn’t know if that was because of my closeness or what I was about to say. Leaning in so I could talk in her ear, I whispered, “Is the woman with the live-in boyfriend, the one whom I’ve had sex with on not fewer than two occasions, really lecturing me on abstinence?”

Kiera tried to pull away from me, but I held her tight. Frustrated anger inflamed my body, and harsh words escaped before I could stop them. Lips directly on her ear, I hissed, “If you actually marry him, will I still get to f*ck you?”

I knew I’d gone too far the moment the words left my mouth. Kiera agreed. Bringing her hand around, she pulled away and slapped me. No, “slapped” is too mild sounding. She whipped my face. That was what it felt like. Staggering back a step, I inhaled a sharp breath. Stars exploded in my vision. My ears rang, and my cheek felt like she’d touched me with a hot iron. Dazed, I could only stare at her. What the hell?

“You stupid son of a bitch!” she screamed, seemingly unhinged.

Completely ignoring the fact that we were in a packed bar, drawing an audience with every tense second that slipped by, Kiera raised her hand to strike me again. This time, I caught her wrist and pulled it down. She winced in pain, and I realized my grip was hurting her, but I didn’t let up. I knew the look in her eye—she wanted blood. My blood.

“What the hell, Kiera? What the f*cking hell!” If she was going to ignore our very alert audience, then I would too. Fuck it. Fuck it all. I was too pissed to care anymore.

Her other hand twitched, and I grabbed it before she could attempt to backhand me. She still didn’t f*cking back down. The feisty bitch raised her leg like she was going to knee me in the balls. Oh, I don’t think so. I shoved her to the side, away from me. She couldn’t attack me if she couldn’t reach me. Surprising me, she leaped after me again. She was almost like a wild animal, trying to rip me to shreds. If I weren’t so angry at her, I might have been concerned.