Bad Boy Dom (21 page)

“Michelle,” Dom cooed in my ear, squeezing me close. “How I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” I panted in ragged breath. “Oh, Dom, if you only knew.”

“Knew what?” Dom asked, nuzzling my cheek. I opened my mouth to explain how much I loved him, but nothing came out. There were no words, and the more I tried to enunciate, the woolier and fuzzier my tongue felt. I closed and opened my mouth, feeling the wet tissue dry up from lack of tongue movement. In frustration, I tried again, opening and closing my mouth ineffectually, like a goldfish. No sound was coming out. I tried to make a noise and nothing happened.

“What happened?” Dom tried again, rolling off of me and staring me in the face. “Michelle, what’s going on?”

There was a loud noise coming from behind him, and I tried to say “it’s your alarm!” but again, nothing happened when I opened my mouth. I wailed and pointed to the sound. Dom just squinted at me and cocked his head, like he wasn’t even sure that I was really there. Finally, I was able to speak.

“The alarm!” I yelled, pointing over my shoulder. “You have to turn it off!”

I woke up in a haze, rubbing my forehead. My alarm was blaring over on the windowsill, and I stared at it groggily. The sharp sound pierced through my consciousness and made me realize that I wasn’t in bed with Dom. I was home, alone, in my own bed.

My body felt hot and sore and I realized that my panties were soaked. I hated dreaming about him, but I had to admit that had been a pretty hot dream. If only it had been with literally anyone other than Dom, I probably would have been able to go back to sleep. Instead, I swung my legs out of bed and yanked on pajama pants. My laptop was open and I realized that I still hadn’t deleted those stupid dating site matches Eric had signed me up for.

Even though I knew I was alone, I still glanced around the room before sitting down at my desk and opening the first message. Maybe it wouldn’t do any harm to try this online dating thing, I mean, what could actually happen? An awkward first date with someone I didn’t really like in person? Compared to what had happened with Dom, it seemed like a piece of cake. Maybe Eric was right. I probably should be trying harder to put myself out there, especially considering that I had an all-new fresh start now. No one was going to recognize me—or worse, not recognize me—as the mousy girl from high school. And even better, med school was full of transplants. No one that I’d met had actually grown up here, so everyone had the same foreign sense as me. It was actually really comforting and reassuring.

The first message was from a guy with dark black hair and a friendly smile. He had blue eyes and pale skin and he was cute, but not really someone I’d look twice at. I opened the message and it was all poetry. Ew. Next.

The next message I opened was from this sexy guy with dark brown hair. He was smirking in his picture, and there was a black cat perched on his shoulder. He’d written: “Good evening to you, I couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous you are. I know it’s cliché, but what are you doing on a site like this? Could I take you out for coffee?”

I blushed. It was almost like this guy had seen me read his message. When I imagined online dating in the past, I’d always thought it was for people who didn’t really care about spending any time together in person. Now I was starting to approach it completely differently; maybe it was for people who wanted to find out what they had in common before they actually met. The newer idea was much more appealing to me, and I looked up at the brunette’s picture again. He had dark eyes and a hint of dark stubble on his face. He was really sexy. I bit my lip, as I hovered the cursor over the ‘delete’ button.

In the end, I couldn’t do it. I wrote back to him and told him a little bit about myself and what I was doing in California. I hadn’t actually looked at the profile Eric had written for me, but I figured if I repeated anything and this guy was annoyed, he was probably a jerk anyway. After I hit send, I was surprised at how nervous I felt. It was tempting to hang out with my laptop and wait for a response, but I made myself go downstairs and make some food.

Eric was in the kitchen, baking a cake and studying. A delicious, chocolatey aroma filled the house and I inhaled deeply. “You’re a good cook,” I observed, peeking in the oven. Two dark brown chocolate layer cakes rose in tandem, looking perfectly uniform. Eric grinned. We hadn’t talked since the fight, but somehow I knew that things were going to be fine. Eric was the most stress-free friend I’d ever had, and I knew that wasn’t an excuse to treat him badly, but I felt like we really understood each other.

“Thanks, angel,” he said, leaning forward to give me an air kiss. “You seem cheerful.”

I blushed, remembering how angry I’d been with Eric for making the dating profile. “I read some of those messages,” I admitted. “The first one was kind of long and creepy, but the second guy sounded nice. I wrote back.”

Eric gaped at me with his mouth wide open. “Michelle, you little hussy!” he cried, laughing and throwing his head back. “I can’t believe you! And the second guy, honey, only the second?! You always wait for more than that!”

I crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out two cold beers and handing one to Eric. “He was cute,” I said, shrugging. Eric twisted the cap off his bottle and took a long swig, setting the bottle down on the counter.

“He better be cute,” he said with his eyes narrowed. “You’re not settling down with some fuckboy. This is California, the world is your oyster.”

“He doesn’t look like a fuckboy,” I replied. “He’s really cute, he has this shaggy brown hair and dark eyes. And he posted a picture with a kitten.”

“Oh, god,” Eric rolled his eyes. “I’m sure he’s used to getting tons of pussy, then. Watch out.”

I frowned. “Don’t be so cynical. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“Just be smart, honey,” Eric warned. “I really don’t want to see you hurt again. This wasn’t supposed to be about that.”

I pouted. “Fine,” I said. “If I go out with him…and that’s a big if! If I go with him, I’ll let you meet first. Deal?”

Eric grinned and held out his bottle. We clinked and drank. “Deal,” he agreed.

“But don’t get your hopes up.”

“Oh, they’re already a little too high,” Eric said. “But I’m willing to be patient.”

Domenic

I spent the entire week working on that painting of Michelle. As I painted, I talked to her. In the portrait, Michelle wore this sexy little knowing smile, and I had to imagine that she was listening to everything I’d told her. Mom knocked on the door a few times but I didn’t answer. No one understood the whole “I’m painting and can’t be bothered thing” more than Mom did.

After spending a week locked in my room, it was almost finished. There were still a few details that needed to be added here and there, but mostly I was really impressed with how it turned out. Portraits were always hard because sometimes they didn’t quite feel right, even if they looked like the person represented. The true job of an artist wasn’t to paint an exact physical description of your subject, but capture them on paper. Thankfully, it looked as though I had done just that. Obviously I couldn’t ask Mom or Archie for their opinions, but I wanted to hear it from someone who didn’t know anything about the situation.

Ryan came over a few hours later. I’d showered and actually eaten a solid meal after a week of saltines and bits of orange while standing up working. I was nervous, but excited about showing him what I’d done. Ryan didn’t really know anything about art, but he’d been hanging out with me long enough to know how important it was. And he’d met some of the other people in the art world; his girlfriend, Desiree, was a frequent model of my friend George.

Mom and Archie had gone out, so when Ryan showed up I handed him a beer and we sat in the living room. I really wanted to get his honest opinion on the painting, so it would be better if we were both a little buzzed first. Guys like Ryan didn’t get sentimental unless they were at least halfway drunk, so I knew I had my work cut out for me.

“Hey, man.” Ryan greeted me with one of those hug-back slap things. I handed him a can of Coors Lite and he ripped the pop tab open, pouring half the beer down his throat.

“Hey,” I replied. Suddenly, the week of little sleep and poor eating had really caught up to me. I felt like shit.

“What’s up?” Ryan asked in a nonchalant voice. He didn’t wait for me to answer; instead, he pushed past me and walked into the living room. I loped behind him and let myself fall into a chair. All of the furniture that Michelle and Archie had collected over the years still didn’t feel familiar to me. It didn’t really feel like my home; it still felt like their home that Mom and I were staying in. I’d have to talk to her about buying some new stuff or seeing if we could get some of our old stuff out of storage. Ostensibly, it was for me when I got my own place. Living with Mom had always worked perfectly for me, but I had a feeling that was going to change with Archie around. I could tell that he didn’t really care for my lifestyle, and he felt invaded having me there.

Maybe I can just go live with Michelle,
I thought. I hoped that after I somehow was able to win her back, we’d reconcile immediately.

“So,” Ryan said, sounding bored. “What’s up? Are we going out tonight? I want to get some fresh ass.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What about Desiree?”

“Fuck her,” Ryan said absentmindedly. “She’s a bitch.”

I shrugged. “Whatever, man,” I said. “Yeah, we can go out if you want.”

“So why did you call me over here?”

I laughed. Ryan wasn’t socially smart enough to be any less blunt. “I want to show you something,” I said cautiously. “I want your opinion on it.”

“Is this going to be some gay ass painting?” Ryan smirked at me and downed the rest of his beer. He crushed the can against his forehead and threw it across the room with a graceful, lazy pitch that landed right in the trash can.

“Nope,” I replied with a grin. “It’s pretty hot actually.”

Twenty minutes and two beers later, we stood in my room. I pulled out Michelle and whipped off the sheet that covered the portrait. Ryan gazed with wide eyes.

“She’s sexy,” he said. “Who is that?”

I frowned. I’d wanted him to guess right away. “Michelle,” I replied, after a beat. Ryan looked away awkwardly and I felt like shit. Inviting him over had to be a mistake. Now he was going to ask me about her, and I really didn’t feel like having that conversation.

“Ohhh,” Ryan drawled. “That girl who was here when I came over with Desiree?”

I rolled my eyes. “She lives here, dude. Or she did. This is her dad’s house.”

Ryan squinted at the painting. “So why did you make her look sexy?”

“I dunno,” I lied, looking away. “Is it that bad?”

“No, no,” Ryan backtracked. “It’s not bad at all, man, I just wonder, like, why her? Why not someone actually hot, like Desiree?”

“I thought you hated Desiree right now?”

Ryan shook his head. “No, whatever, man, she’s fine.”

I sighed. This wasn’t going down how I thought it would at all. “Should we just go?” I asked. “I can get ready in a few minutes.”

Ryan jumped up and touched the ceiling of my bedroom with his fingertips. The floor shook when his muscular frame landed, and I winced thinking of how Archie would respond. “Do you have anything to eat, man?” he asked, rubbing his stomach. “I haven’t eaten since lunch. I’m starved.”

Downstairs, I made us both plates of spaghetti and sauce from a jar. Ryan inhaled his in about thirty seconds. He grinned at me with sauce all over his chin. “This is just like when we used to carbo load before going to the VFW,” he said. “Tonight’s gonna be fuckin’ awesome!”

When we got to the bar, I had that same old adrenaline rush that I used to feel all the time when I went as a “single” guy. I knew that technically I was still single, but it didn’t feel like it really. It felt like I was just devoted to Michelle. I didn’t think I’d even want to talk to any girls tonight, but at least I could help Ryan out. He hadn’t matured as much as some of my other buddies had, and I knew he’d probably need some help getting laid.

It used to be that going out was my one source of fun in life. Finding some hot girl and talking her up got me so excited. The build-up was always, always better than the actual sex was. The sex, in reality, felt like a letdown after the whole evening before. I got so jazzed when I could tell that a girl was into me enough to go home with me, or take me back to her car. It was the best feeling in the world; it was like walking on air. Now, I didn’t really feel like that anymore, but I couldn’t deny the thrill that went through my body when I walked through the door. A line of hot blondes all turned and made a show of looking me up and down before turning back to the cranberry-vodkas.

“This place is excellent,” Ryan whispered to me as we took our jackets off and sat down on a pair of stools. “I’ve met some awesome chicks here.”

“Recognize anyone?” I asked, pulling out my wallet and flagging down the bartender. After he left us a bucket of Millers, Ryan and I clinked bottles.

“Nope!” Ryan grinned. “This place is officially fresh meat tonight.” He sniffed the air and caught sight of a blonde with giant tits who was sitting to our right. “She is smokin’!”

“She is hot,” I admitted. She looked a little younger than Ryan and me, and she wore this black halter top that pushed her breasts together in magnificent cleavage. Her light blonde hair was streaked with darker blonde and brown, and it looked natural. She also had this amazing tan that made her body look really fit. I wondered if she’d always been around here; it was impossible to tell. So often, mousy girls in high school would go off to college and get super hot. She could have even been in a few classes with me. I pondered the possibility of some little introverted blonde girl sitting in the back, daydreaming about me, the hottest jock in school…

“Dom!” Ryan called my name in a low voice, snapping me out of my reverie. “Come on, man, stay focused. This is a game, remember?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I’m going to get laid tonight, dude,” I replied. “It wouldn’t be the best idea for me right now.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “You’re sure looking around a lot for someone who apparently doesn’t care,” he said.

“So what? I’m allowed to look,” I scoffed. “Looking is going to hurt anyone.”

Ryan and I drank our way through the Miller bucket. I didn’t press him about what he’d thought of the painting. His reaction had been strong enough that I knew I’d made a mistake. With a heavy heart, I realized I’d only be able to show Michelle and people who didn’t know anything about us. It was too suspicious, and even though Ryan hadn’t been smart enough to figure out what was really going on, I could tell that it would be a bad idea to bring it up again.

It was strange; normally when we went drinking, we had our pick of the bar. After we’d been there for about twenty minutes, we’d usually be swarmed with girls. But tonight was different—aside from a few looks that had been thrown my way by that tanned blonde, no one had come to say hi. I didn’t recognize anyone either, and that made it even stranger. Normally on a night where Ryan and I didn’t know anyone, getting laid was made even easier.

A few hours had passed and not one girl had come up and pretended to drop her drink or ask me some dumb question about her car problems. I looked at Ryan; he also seemed perturbed.

“This hasn’t ever happened, right?” I asked him, squinting my eyes and throwing back the last of my beer. “Usually it’s not hard for us to find dates, right?”

Ryan belched loudly and set his empty bottle on the counter loudly. We’d gone through three buckets and his eyes looked glassy. It was only ten and the bar showed no sign of slowing down. The blonde had started talking to some nerdy asshole with a beard, and she hadn’t looked at me once since he’d shown up.

“We need to take matters into our own hands,” Ryan said. He cracked the cap off the last bottle of Miller in the bucket and handed it to me after taking a hearty swig. “You get more beer, I’m gonna go piss, and then we’ll talk to some girls.”

“Alright,” I said, feeling dazed. The alcohol rose in a hot cloud around my head and I felt really woozy and tired. It was a really stupid idea to go out drinking after not eating real food for a week.
Pull yourself together, Thomas
, I commanded myself.
This isn’t a race
.

It took Ryan forever to piss, and by the time he came back, I was feeling even worse. I was sitting with my head dangling forward and my eyes closed. Ryan shook me roughly by the shoulders and I felt my world slide around in messy circles.

“C’mon, man,” Ryan chastised me. “It’s still early. Let’s go talk to those sorority chicks.”

There was a group of girls in highlighter-pink t-shirts with Greek letters painted splashily across the front. They were clad in denim shorts and high heels with straps that crisscrossed over their ankles, and their shirts were uniformly rolled up and tucked snugly under their breasts. A couple of them were really stunning, and they were giggling and looked to be having fun. Ryan kicked me in the leg and I stood up straighter.

“Hello, ladies,” Ryan greeted them. “My friend, Domenic, and I were wondering if you’d like us to buy you a round to shots to get the party going.”

“The party’s already going,” one sexy blonde informed us. She eyed us up and down. I was pleased to see that her eyes lingered on Ryan. “But you can get us some shots anyway.”

Ryan waved his hand and called for a platter of lemon drop shots. The girls all cheered something in unison and knocked back their sweet liquor.

“Dom, man, drink up!” Ryan handed me a shot glass full of yellow liquid. “Your liver isn’t going to flood itself!”

“Nah, man,” I said, pushing his arm away. My gesture was too sloppy and it spilled the drink all over his shoes. “I can’t drink pussy chick liquor, you know that.”

Ryan laughed. “You’re a fucking douche,” he told me with a grin. “Ladies, how old are y’all?”

They laughed. “We’re twenty-one, duh,” a couple of them said together. “Like we could be in a bar if we weren’t of age.”

One of the girls, a blonde with long wavy hair that spilled over her shoulders and back, came up to me and guided me by the elbow to the side. She smelled amazing, and I wanted to bury my face in her tits.