Everything I Shouldn't / Everything I Need (41 page)

I attempt to glare at her, though if I succeeded it doesn't faze her, I say, "Sending a text. What does it look like I'm doing? I'm trying to send a text message and it's not working."

Candace sighs, holding out her hand like she seriously thinks I'm going to hand her my phone. "Here, let me send it for you."

"Do I look fucking stupid to you? I'm not handing you my phone," I say more harshly than I intended, jerking my phone out of her reach. Candace just rolls her eyes before reaching over me to grab my phone.

She looks down, reading the screen, and the fact that she's looking at messages that were sent from SarahBeth while I was ignoring her makes me livid, especially when she laughs. "Poor girl just can't take no for an answer can she?" She reads the last text on the screen before the one I sent, the text that says

You win. No more calls, no more texts, no more showing up where you work. I won't ever contact you again, for ANYTHING

It was received less than four hours ago, and is the reason I'm here at this bar. I finally jerk my head out of my ass and she's decided to move on. The obvious smile in Candace's voice makes me see red when she continues, "She finally got the hint and now you want her back. That's just perfect." She looks up at me, a calculating gleam in her eyes. "You know what they say about getting over someone, right? The best way to get over one is to get under another, and baby, I remember how good it was between us." 

Christ. It was just one fucking night, one night of many when I went home with a woman I never saw again. Her mouth is on mine before I can come up with a response to what she said; my mind just numb enough and my dick just interested enough to let the kiss go. Candace stands and moves in between my legs. She plasters her body against mine and I wrap her blonde hair around my fist as I tug her head back to roughly return her kiss.

The kiss has nothing to do with seduction, or want. It's full of misery, hate, anger and the self-loathing that's eating away at my insides. This. This is
exactly
what I deserve -- meaningless sex with faceless women whose names I won't remember in the morning. That empty guy I used to be before SarahBeth.

We stumble into her apartment, both of us extremely drunk, banging into walls and the table behind her couch before we finally make it into her bedroom. Gripping me by the lapels of my shirt, she presses me into the wall just inside the room, pressing her lips wetly to mine before trailing kisses along my jaw.

"
SarahBeth
," I groan, caught in a fantasy where instead of kissing Candace, I'm kissing the girl I love. My hands are on her hips and her too perfect breasts are crushed up against my chest as she writhes against me when I speak. As soon as the word leaves my mouth, she stiffens, pulling back to look up at me, a look in her eyes I don't understand.

After studying me for a moment, she leans back in to whisper, "You can call me whatever you like. I'm good at role-play."

I shake my head, trying to clear it, but when she drops to her knees, undoing my belt and plunging her hand inside my underwear, I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the wall. Taking my dick in her hands, she starts stroking it roughly, trying to turn me on, but it doesn't work. The combination of bourbon and the fact that she's just not SarahBeth have taken their toll on my body. I'm sure I'll feel fucking awful tomorrow about the fact that I just can't get it up, but I'll probably be thankful too, because going
there
with someone else is a sure way to end any chance I have of getting SarahBeth back.

Unwrapping her hands from around my cock, I tuck myself back in my jeans and zip back up, pushing her away when I'm finished. I should feel guilty over the fact that I pushed her a little too roughly, that she almost fell flat on her ass, but I don't. This was a bad fucking idea, one I need to rectify as quickly as possible.

I start to walk out of her bedroom, not acknowledging her on the floor at my feet, staring up at me in shock, stopping only when she grabs the leg of my pants with a hand. "Wait, where are you going? I said I was okay with role-playing. You can call me SarahBeth if you want to."

Shame filters through me swiftly, causing me to be more of an asshole than I already am when I jerk out of her hold and look down at her, after what has just happened, my mouth twisted in disgust. "I'm not interested in role-play and I damn sure wouldn't degrade her by pretending
you
are her." Candace sucks in a gasp at the insult, struggling to get to her feet so she can poke me in the chest with a pointy fingernail.

"You
asshole
!" she shrieks, "Why did you even come here if you weren't going to fuck me?" Her shrill voice combined with the pain of her fingernail poking my chest has me cringing, ready to get out before she loses it even more.

Grabbing her by the wrist, I remove her finger from my chest and bend the few inches needed to be eye to eye with her. "Why would you bring a guy back to your apartment and let him fuck you when he's thinking about someone else? That's the question you should be asking yourself instead of worrying about me."

Knowing I'm damn well not sober enough to get myself home, I text Tyler from the lobby and ask him to come get me. Luckily, it's a Monday, so while he had to meet with the band for practice, he at least didn't have a performance so his "give me twenty" comes quickly. I don't want to risk Candace coming downstairs and starting a scene, so I head for the little bistro next door; it's closed, but there are still a few tables sitting outside. Thankfully, the crazy one doesn't follow, but I pick a table far enough from the door that she won't immediately notice me if she does come looking for me.

It takes Tyler less than the twenty minutes he said to pull up in front of the apartment building and I'm on my feet heading for his car before I receive his text. Shutting the door, I lean my head back against the seat and sigh in relief. Thankfully, Candace doesn't have my number so I don't have to worry about her trying to get in touch with me later, but I still have to deal with Tyler who's staring at me, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Uh, mate, why am I picking you up here?"

Shit. Now I have to explain to him what I was doing, and after the things he said earlier, he's not going to be sympathetic to what seemed like a good idea before I sobered up some. Running a hand through my hair, I blow out a breath, "I ran into a girl I fucked a year ago and we ended up in her apartment." Cringing inwardly, I wait for the fallout. I don't have to wait very long.

"You really are a bloody idiot, you know that?" Tyler fumes, shaking his head as he maneuvers the car into the nearly nonexistent traffic. The insult's lost a little bit of its punch since he already told me that once today, but the meaning behind it is still the same. He's right, I am a
bloody idiot
.

"I know," I mutter, turning away from the judgment in his eyes. "I was drunk, and she was blonde enough that I could pretend for a few minutes that I had her back." It sounds even more pathetic when I say it out loud.

Tyler laughs humorlessly before responding. "I don't fucking understand you. You're in love with the girl, yeah?" I start to speak, but he cuts me off. "You're in love with the girl, but pushing her as far away as you can. Are you trying to see just how far you can push her before she loses her shit? Because if so, mate, she's already there. SarahBeth's hoping you come to your senses, but she's not going to wait forever. You need to fix this shit now. She needs you, more than you can imagine."

That's the second time today he's told me that Sarah needs me. Any lingering buzz I still had is gone now. "What do you mean she needs me?" 

"Nothing, never mind. I shouldn't have said anything." Tyler shakes his head, muttering, "This whole situation's gone to shit."

What the fuck? "Ty, man, you can't tell me she needs me and then say
never mind
. What the hell is going on? David made a similar comment a few days ago and I'm really starting to worry."

"Oh no, no way. I'm not getting in the middle of this mess. You need to talk to her, not me and damn sure not Dave. Your answers
need
to come from her, and they need to come soon." Pressing his lips together like he's trying to keep words from flying out of his mouth, he focuses on his driving and soon we're at his apartment. Instead of pulling into the parking garage, he pulls up to the front and motions for me to get out.

Confused, I ask, "You're not staying?"

"No," Tyler says, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "I need to go see someone." Well, all right then. Getting out of the car, I barely shut the door before Tyler peels off, obviously upset. As I walk inside, heading straight for the elevator, I pull my phone out to send SarahBeth one last text. It's past two in the morning and she's most likely asleep, but she should see the message in the morning when she wakes.

I miss you. We need to talk...soon. I'm concerned about you.

It's not the most eloquent of messages, but hopefully it gets the point across. There's no way in hell I'm telling her that I want her back in a text message. By the time I leave the elevator, she hasn't responded, not that I really expected her to, but I'm still a little disappointed. I want this over with, I want things back the way they were, aside from the hiding that is.

I let myself in and stand in the dark, empty room for a moment. Morning isn't going to be much fun, and I know I'm going to have a horrible hangover. I just hope she talks to me, that she forgives me for being an insensitive prick. I have no idea what I'll do if she doesn't. I don't bother to take off my jacket or my shoes; I lie down on the couch and immediately fall asleep.

SarahBeth

I
miss you. We need to talk...soon. I'm concerned about you.

That's the message I wake up to the next morning. It's funny really, considering I finally decided last night after seeing him with Melanie that I was going to give him up, that I would move on and try to be happy without him since that's what he seems to want. Just when I resolve myself to never being with him again, I get a text that makes no sense, and then this. I can't even think of a way to reply. I'm afraid, afraid to hope -- to take his words at face value. For all I know, he meant to send this to someone else. Deciding not to let it get to me right now, I get out of bed, determined to go one day, just
one day
without grieving over him. One day where I concentrate on the life growing inside me, the little person who will always,
always
be with me.

I have less than a week until summer semester starts, and I've been going back and forth on whether I should continue with school or if I should just start looking for a job. The choice isn't an easy one, because with a baby coming and not knowing whether I'll be able to count on Jeremy, a job seems like the most obvious option. But, then too, this was supposed to be my senior year, only a few semesters left and I'll have my degree, I'll be able to get a better job that will let me provide for us both easier.