Bad Girlfriend (First & Last #4) (5 page)

When we were done eating, I threw the pizza box in the fridge.  Brooke poured another round of shots for us, and this time I did mine at the same time as her, with my eyes closed.

“So, you know my story.  Now it’s your turn.”

Brooke shrugged one slender shoulder and picked at the blanket with her pale yellow fingernails.  I looked to her toes and saw they were painted in a matching shade.  At first glance, everything about this girl screamed high maintenance.  Yet, here she sat on my bed, eating pizza out of a box, drinking tequila shots and seemed to be perfectly comfortable doing it.

“There’s not much to tell.  I grew up here with Gram.  My mom was only sixteen when I was born and was too young to handle raising a kid.  She comes and goes, but mostly goes.  I went to cosmetology school after high school, and I do hair at Loraine’s Luscious Locks.”  She winced as she said that last part.  “I hate that name.  Luscious is such a weird word.”

I laughed.  “Do you like what you do?”

“Yeah, I really do.  I’m good at it.  I like making people feel good about themselves.  It’s not brain surgery, but I like it.”

“You don’t have to save lives to be doing something important.  I’m sure a good haircut can do more for a woman’s self-esteem than twenty sessions with a psychiatrist.”

“That’s probably true,” Brooke said, tilting her head to the side as she studied me.

“What?”  I asked, thinking I must have pizza sauce smeared on my face or something.

She narrowed her eyes.  “Are you gay?”

“What?”  I repeated.  This conversation was not going where I thought it would.

“It’s just that you’re so…nice.  And you seem to really understand women.”

I snorted.  “I assure you, Brooke, I am not gay.  And I absolutely do not understand women.  Your species is a complex and unsolvable mystery to me.”

She giggled and reached for the tequila bottle again.  When we both had our shots in hand, she held hers up. 
“To new friends.”

I
clinked my glass against hers.  “To new friends.”

That’s the last thing I have any clear memory of…

The sun was streaming through the window.  I could see the glow through my closed eyelids, which were stuck to my eyeballs.  Shit, I fell asleep with my contacts in.  I moved my head to the side as I tried to pry my dry eyes open.  That was a mistake.  The pounding pain behind my forehead had me freezing in place.

I blinked my eyes and stared at the ceiling.  What happened?  I tried to move, but something was holding me down.  Glancing down, I saw a curtain of red hair draped over my chest.  My naked chest.

Oh, fuck.

I lifted the sheet covering us and quickly lowered it when I saw that the rest of me was naked as well.  Now that all my senses were waking up, I could feel that Brooke was naked too, and draped across me.  I closed my eyes and opened them again, hoping this was just a dream.  A really good dream.  Because in reality, this would be very bad.

Nope, it’s real.

I tried to remember what happened.  Not that I couldn’t deduce what happened, but the last thing I could remember was laughing and doing more shots with Brooke.  I couldn’t remember making a move on her, or anything about what happened between us.

Shit, shit, shit.

Feeling like a first class asshole for taking advantage of her, I rubbed my hands over my face.  Her breathing was still deep and even, and I took a moment to watch her sleeping.  Dark eyelashes cast shadows on her high cheekbones.  Her skin was smooth and tan, which was unusual for a natural redhead, with just a few freckles dashed over her nose.  She looked peaceful, and one hand was curled on my stomach.

Christ, I had to get out of this bed before I forgot I was supposed to be the nice guy.  Very carefully I shifted out from under her and quietly eased off the bed.  Brooke sighed and curled up on her side with her hands under her face.

Well, first things first.  I needed to take a piss and find some Advil for my pounding head.  Then I would wait for her to wake up so I could somehow try to fix this.  When I went into the bathroom, another thought popped into my head.  If I was drunk enough not to remember having sex with possibly the hottest girl I’d ever seen, then I’m sure I was drunk enough to forget a condom.  Godammit, could I be any stupider?

After taking care of business in the bathroom, I walked quietly back out.  I was trying to decide if I should get dressed or just slip back into bed.  That decision was made for me when I returned to an empty bed.

Brooke was gone.

I went to the window and saw Brooke running across the driveway
.  Her legs were bare and she was wearing the t-shirt I remembered putting on after my shower the night before.  Now I had to decide whether to go after her or just let it go.  With a sigh I fell back onto the rumpled sheets.

That wasn’t r
eally a choice.  I couldn’t let her go, thinking I was just as bad as Chet.  When I rolled over to push myself up, I saw a tiny bit of red lace peeking out from under the pillow.  I pulled out a pair of very small red lace panties.  Looks like I have a valid reason to go find her now.

Chapter Five

Brooke

When I was safely inside my house, I leaned my back against the door and slid down to the floor.  The tile was cold on my bare ass, and it was a stark reminder that I had just run across the driveway wearing nothing but Adam’s shirt.  He was tall enough that it hung
to mid thigh and covered everything, and it was the first thing I had grabbed when I woke up.

When I woke up
. Naked. In Adam’s bed.

He was in the bathroom, and I just couldn’t stay there and face him.  God, he must think I’m such a slut.  Of course he does, because that’s what I am. 
A stupid girl so desperate for love that I’ll jump in bed with any guy who shows the least bit of interest.  Or, in Adam’s case, he’s too drunk to know any better.

A sharp knock rattled the door I was leaning against, and I squealed.  Clamping a hand over my mouth, I
whirled around and scooted back from the door.

“Brooke?  Are you there?”  Adam’s rough voice
said through the door.

I pursed my lips together, to keep myself from saying or doing anything stupid.
  There was a thunk on the door at about the level of his head.

“Brooke, I know you’re in there. 
Are you okay?  I’m…I’m sorry.”  There was a long pause, and I thought he might have left.  Then I heard him say more quietly, “I…I’ll leave your underwear out here.”

Oh, God.

“And you can keep my shirt…or return it…or throw it away.  Whatever you want.”

I waited to hear what he would say next, but there was nothing.  Realizing he was gone, I jumped
up and peeked out through the blinds.  Adam was walking away, his shoulders slumped, his hair thoroughly mussed and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cargo shorts.

When he disappeared inside his apartment, I opened the door just a crack and yanked my panties off the doorknob.  I threw them in the hamper upstairs along with the rest of my clothes from last night and collapsed on my bed.

Grateful that I didn’t have to work today, I crawled under the covers, still wearing Adam’s shirt.  My head hurt and my stomach rolled from the tequila, but I didn’t have the energy or the motivation to move from under the covers.

Lifting his shirt over my nose, I inhaled deeply.  It smelled like him, and blurry memories from last night flashed through my mind.  I don’t know exactly what happened, but I do know that I started it.  I was certain of it.

I was also certain that I had just had the best sex of my life.  Unfortunately I couldn’t remember most of it.  All I knew was that I had felt loved and cherished.  Which was ridiculous, considering I had only just met him.  Yet as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t shake the memories of being held while I slept.

When I woke up much later that day, the house was quiet.  Gram was probably at the church for the bake sale.  I dragged myself out of bed and down the stairs in search of water and something to eat.  My head still ached, but otherwise I wasn’t feeling too hungover anymore.  I washed down a few Advil with some water and followed that up with the cookies Gram had left on a plate for me.  Peanut butter chocolate chip.  Nothing better.

After my snack I went back to my room in search of my phone.  I found it in the hamper in my shorts pocket, and there were a couple of missed calls from Chet and a text from Poppy.  Knowing nothing good would come from talking to
Chet, I deleted his calls and read Poppy’s text.

Poppy:  Dinner tonight?

Me:  Yes.  What time?

Poppy:  Come over at 5:00 and do my hair?

Me:
 


At least I had something to do tonight that would keep me out of my friendly neighbor’s bed.  Now I just had to figure out how to avoid him for the next year or however long he lived there.  Blowing my long bangs out of my eyes, I went to the window.  Adam’s car was gone.  Hopefully he would still be gone when I left in a couple of hours.

And he was.  Though that didn’t stop me from speed walking to the garage and backing out of my driveway in record time.  Poppy’s apartment that she shared with Ford
was only one street over from my house.  Normally, with the weather so nice, I would walk.  But I was not risking running into Adam.

I parked on the street in front of the old Victorian that was a lot like my house only it was divided into apartments. 
One upstairs and one downstairs.  Poppy lived in the upstairs apartment, and she opened the door one second after I knocked.  It had been less than two weeks since she moved out, but it seemed like forever.

“Hi!”  Poppy squealed, pulling me in for a big hug.  She must have missed me too, because she
normally wasn’t the squealing type.

“You look great,” she said, holding me at arms’ length and taking in my outfit.  I was wearing slim black Capri pants
with an emerald green halter top and black strappy heels with little bows around my ankles.

“Maybe I should change,” Poppy said, looking down at her own outfit of denim mini skirt, Cornell t-shirt and flip flops.

“No, you look perfect,” I said.  It was true I had spent many an evening trying to dress her up, but that just wasn’t her.  Poppy was naturally beautiful without fancy clothes or a ton of makeup.

“Besides, Ford would kill me if I made you look like me.”

She laughed, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”  It was no secret that Ford thought I was a bad influence.  The truth was that Poppy was a good influence on me.

“Come on, I’ll straighten your hair tonight.”  I
walked ahead of her into the bedroom and flipped on her flat iron.  “So, how’s it going living with a boy?”

Poppy wrinkled up her nose like she had smelled something bad.  “Boys are kind of gross.  But, other than trying to train Ford to put down the toilet seat and not drink straight out of the milk carton, it’s going really well.”  Her sour face was replaced by a dreamy smile.

“Good.  I’m happy for you,” I said.

The flat iron was ready, so I pulled a chair over in front of the mirror and started dividing her long wavy brown hair into small sections.

“So, how’s the new tenant?  Ford said he met him the other night when he came in to the pub for dinner.”

My hand was shaking slightly as I ran the flat iron down the first section of Poppy’s hair.  “Um…he seems nice,” I said.  Then I made the mistake of meeting Poppy’s eyes in the mirror.  Her hazel eyes narrowed, and my own filled with tears.

“Brooke?  What’s wrong?”

I blinked rapidly and looked up at the ceiling.  It worked, and I was able to save my eye makeup.  “
What’s not wrong?”  I tried to laugh, but it came out as a pitiful sniffling noise.

Poppy started to stand up, probably to try and give me a hug.  But I put my hands on her shoulder and firmly sat her back down. 
“Sit.  I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.  What happened?”

Slowly smoothing the flat iron over her hair, I sighed.  “You were right, Poppy.  What you said that night at the bar.”

Poppy visibly flinched.  “I didn’t mean it, Brooke!  I was hurting from losing Ford, and I took it out on you.  I was being a bitch. 
Plain and simple.”

Several months ago we had a girls’ night out with Leah and Lindsay, the wives of Ford
's best friends, Josh and Grady.  Ford had left for a coaching job in Louisiana, and Poppy wasn’t taking their break up well.  Trying to cheer her up, I told her to find a new guy to distract her because that’s what I always did.  She had said, “
Yeah?  How’s that working out for you?
”

At the time I was hurt, though I didn’t let her see it.  Poppy was the nicest person ever, and I knew she wouldn’t say something like that if she wasn’t in such a bad place.  But I was finally realizing what she said was true.  Ever since high school, I had jumped from guy to guy looking for…something.  Something that everyone else seemed to have, but I could never find.