Stand (Black Addiction Book 3) (17 page)

While my redress took only a few minutes, it took a lot longer for Beth. No doubt she’d been slowed by the twenty questions from Jules, so factoring all of that in, I assumed it would be at least thirty minutes before she was back. Longer if Jules was still dying.

So rather than sit on my hands or burn a hole through the floor pacing like a loser, I grabbed my cell and checked my messages. It was exactly where I’d left it last night, in the pocket of my jeans on my bedroom floor. No message, call or email close to being important enough for me to have given a shit before now.

As predicted, there were a few messages. A couple were of the female variety, those girls soon to get the thanks-but-no-thanks, see ya, bye. I wasn’t the kind of guy to jerk anyone around, but I was no longer interested in anyone whose name didn’t start with B and end with eth. Very specific and that’s the way I wanted to keep it.

Two were from Joey at varying stages of delirium. The first asking if sleep deprivation could increase penis size, because he was positive his dick looked bigger, and the second was to let me know he bought a timpani while online shopping at three a.m. Apparently, he needed one, so I’m sure it was a relief to everyone that he found one. I shook my head and hoped to God he didn’t follow Jason’s lead and knock up his wife again. At least not until the poor bastard had some sleep.

Thankfully Jules had survived, Beth arriving back at my pad dressed in jeans and a T-shirt not too long after.

It fucking floored me how stunning she looked every single time I saw her. There wasn’t a girl in the world that could even get close to that kind of beautiful. It didn’t matter if she was wearing sweats with no makeup or a tight dress ready to go out, she owned it and knocked me on my ass.

“So, we’re going out for breakfast?” She sat on the edge of the bed while I pulled on a shirt.

“I figured if I’m going to have sex with you all day, I should at least feed you. It would be the responsible thing to do.” I smirked, thinking maybe we should just order in. Surely there was some deli or something that delivered?

“Smart. You are so clever.” She pressed her hands against my lower abs; the need for food no longer seeing important. “I’m starving.”

It wasn’t supposed to be sexy.

The word wasn’t loaded with suggestion or elongated for flirt factor. She was just hungry. For Food. And yet, watching her lips move around the letters made me instantly hard. Like a fucking deviant. And what was worse was I didn’t actually care.

Nope.

Not even the slightest.

Instead I expedited the process, hauling her ass out of my apartment so quick her feet barely touched the ground.

Food and then sex.

Lots of it.

If she had a problem with it, she sure as hell didn’t show it. Whatever objection she’d had with us getting together had been shelved. And I wasn’t giving her the opportunity to change her mind.

When I moved from
the Bronx to Manhattan, it wasn’t just my area code that changed. I figured it was time for me to grow up and ditch my more-relaxed lifestyle. Plans, schedules—weren’t super important to me before, but now it’s how I mostly ran my life. That didn’t mean I became anal type-A with no sense of spontaneity, it just meant that having a plan wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

But, if the situation called for it, I would totally get retro and loosen the reins. And the current situation was one I was going to have to play on the fly.

I had had no intention of ever getting back together with Max. Happy for him to have been part of my yesterday while I looked to tomorrow.

But things change.

I’d tried to stay away.

Really, I tried.

And I sucked at it.

Predictably, I ended up where I always had, with Max and in his bed. Really, not sure why I bothered to fight it, I had such a bad track record. So, rather than beat myself up about it or tell myself I should walk away, I gave in.

What’s the worst that can happen?

Yeah, I know, I was tempting fate.

The weekend had been awesome. I didn’t even pretend like I hadn’t enjoyed every second of being around Max. It was just like old times except, better. We laughed, we talked and we had a lot of sex.

A. Lot. Of. Sex.

Sleeping, not so much.

Which is why Monday morning when I crawled backed to my apartment to get ready for work, I had needed a coffee with a Red Bull chaser and an ice pack for my vagina. Probably a couple of Motrin as well.

“You know I’m pissed at you, right?” Jules handed me my second cup of coffee as I slipped on my shoes. “The guy is basically the Energizer Bunny with a huge dick; this was supposed to be my fairytale.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I pouted not even trying to pretend I was sorry. “I’ll try not to enjoy it, and it’s not that great.” I lied, trying not to laugh. “Those little blue birds that fly around us when we have sex like they do in
Snow White
are really distracting.”

“Oh, that’s sick.” Jules screwed her face up in mock disgust. “High five.” She raised her hand waiting for me to reciprocate.

“We are not high fiving over sex, Jules.” Her palm left un-slapped as I gulped the rest of my coffee and put the cup in the sink. “We didn’t turn into frat boys last time I checked.”

She rolled her eyes completely unimpressed. “Won’t talk about his dick, won’t high five over sex . . . remind me again why we are friends?”

“Because no one else in this town will have us.” I laughed, grabbing my purse and pointing toward the door. “And we need to leave now or we’re going to be late.”

Mondays were always difficult. It was hard enough for an adult to sit still and pay attention after two days running free, for a child—well it was a wonder why teachers didn’t have a hip flask and a healthy whiskey addiction by lunchtime. Okay, so maybe some did. Not looking at anyone—
cough
, Mrs. Chapman
, cough
.

So after getting through the first half of the day with no tears from either me or the children, I was glad to get to the teacher’s lounge and get something to eat. The Red Bull and coffee might have been a good idea this morning, but by ten I was regretting not following up with at least a bagel.

“Ladies.” Rita Moson, one of the first grade teachers sat down beside me. Her perfect blonde hair, her perfect face and perfect body all coordinated like she’d just stepped out of the pages of Vanity Fair. “Did you have a good weekend?” Her brows lifted a little too enthusiastically.

“Yeah, it was great.” I smiled politely and took a bite of my chicken salad, trying to wonder why the sudden interest. “How was yours?”

I figured it was the courteous thing to do considering she’d asked about mine. Even though I really didn’t care. We had never been close friends, her tastes being a little too
pink angora cardigan
for my liking.

“You do anything
special
?” Another raised eyebrow, this time accompanied by a smile.

Jules and I looked at each other puzzled, unsure if this was some secret code we were supposed to know. A staff memo we’d missed? Maybe a new initiative?

“Well, I was sick—” Jules hadn’t even finished her sentence when Rita cut her off.

“Not you, Julie. I mean Beth.” She laughed, her exaggerated fake eyelashes winking like a spider was having a seizure on her face. “Or should I say,
someone
special.”

Oh. Wow.

There was a conversation I hadn’t expected.

How the hell did she know, and how the hell did I answer that?
So yeah, we spent the entire weekend screwing each other’s brains out, but he’s not my boyfriend or anything.
She’d have that shit on the internal circulation quicker than you could say hello, office gossip. Yeah, would really prefer not to deal with that. It was only freaking Monday; surely I had until Wednesday before I had to deal with crazy.

“Come on, Beth.” Rita batted my arm softly before lowering her voice. “No need to be coy; it’s all over the internet about you going home with Max Reynolds. You know, the hot bass player from Black Addiction.”

“Oh, Max. Yeah, he lives in our building. Just moved there.” I waved her off pretending to be bored, hoping my disinterest would throw her off the scent. Not likely given the look on her face.

“You looked rather cozy in the photos. Rather affectionate for a neighbor, wouldn’t you say?”

Oh she was good. The sweetness balanced with the sarcasm to form the perfect mix of I-don’t-believe-you.

“We’re friends, I’ve known him for a long time.” All true, something she could have probably found out herself if she’d widened her Google search.

“Yes, I saw that. You guys dated before he was famous.”

So, she
had
Googled. Could’ve saved us all a lot of time if she’d led with that.

“Yep, all true.” I smiled, hoping this would be the end of the conversation but knowing it probably wasn’t. Today hadn’t been a good day for food, my chicken salad in front of me remaining uneaten.

“He’s awesome,” Jules chimed in, her addition to the conversation welcomed. She was right there so helping to deflect attention would be much appreciated.

“Oh, I bet he is.” Rita fanned herself, her pretty pink nails waving in front of her face. “So, you two aren’t dating?”

“Max and I?” My head shook as I couldn’t help but giggle. Not because it was funny, but because well, I didn’t really know. We’d slept together but that wasn’t what she’d asked and there was distinct difference between
are you having sex with Max
verses
are you dating Max
. “No, we’re not dating.”

“So, can you introduce me?” Her eyes flew open with excitement, her lashes threatening to fly off her face. “You know, I have a little thing for him. All girls want to have at least one time with a
bad boy
.”

Oh, please, no. She couldn’t be serious? She wanted to meet Max and hopefully fill her bad boy quota? I didn’t know whether to laugh or be disgusted.

“Well, I’m not really sure if he’s interested in dating at the moment.” Completely true, not like I’d asked and I hadn’t seen him with any other girls. “He is really busy. The band takes up a lot of his time.”

“One meeting. Come on, Beth,” she pleaded, her hands wrapping around my arm in a show of desperation. “Just invite him out to drinks or something, you don’t even have to stick around.”

Because that made it so much better. Here, hook me up with
your
friend to earn
me
cool points but don’t hang around or anything. Did the bleach she used to dye her hair—spoiler alert, she wasn’t a natural blonde—seep into her brain? Let’s file that under, not going to happen.

“Look, Rita.” I was really trying to be cordial, the lounge filled with our colleagues not to mention the principal. “I’ll mention it, but I can’t make any promises. Chances are he’ll probably say no.”
As in hell no, over my dead body
.

It didn’t matter whether or not he wasn’t dating
me
, he could not date her.

As in ever.

Not even as a joke.

At all.

No.

“Okay, well do the best you can, huh?” She fluffed up her golden mane of greatness and gave me a smile. “I’d
really
like to meet him.”

No shit. And still the answer was going to be an n-oh!

“Sure, will do.” I gave her a finger wave as she returned to her posse of pink angora cardigan wearers. No doubt with news that I wasn’t dating Max Reynolds and with any luck, she would be. Which totally had the same probability of an asteroid smashing through the window and killing us all in the next thirty seconds.

Oh, look. We’re all still alive. Guess it sucks to be her then.

“Can you believe that?” I tried to replay it back in my head slower to see if it made more sense the second time around. Nope, still lame.

Jules laughed, not even trying to be discreet. “I was totally going to jump in there, but you seemed to be handling it.”

“I stopped short of telling her Hell hadn’t frozen over yet; I think that deserves a cookie.” I eyed the vending machine, my salad no longer appealing.

“You totally do, me too because I had to listen to it.” Jules pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills, the cookies obviously her treat. “But, I think you should totally set them up, but only if we get to go on the date.”

She didn’t give me a chance to answer, stalking to the vending machine and gathering cookies. The plastic wrapping crinkled in her hand as she handed over my reward.

“Are you insane?” I pulled open the wrapper, the fresh cookie smell making my mouth water. “Even
if
I hated Max, I wouldn’t set him up with her, and I don’t hate him.” A piece of chocolate chip was tossed in my mouth. Yum. Almost got rid of the Rita after taste. Almost.

“No, you loooooooove him.” Jules shot me googly eyes as she took a bite out of her treat.

“Are you twelve? I don’t looooooove him.” I countered with some googly eyes of my own to illustrate how ridiculous she was being. “We’re friends.”

“Who had sex,” she pointed out, in case anyone had forgotten.

“Who care for each other,” I corrected. It hadn’t been sex without emotion, I’d always cared about him. Probably would until the day I died, but love? I just . . . didn’t know.

“So, put yourself out of your misery already and date him.”

“Maybe.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to date Max; I mean I really,
really
liked dating him. He was an awesome boyfriend, an amazing lover and a great friend. But like always, we hadn’t really
defined
what we were doing. I hadn’t asked him if this was just a friends with benefit thing—something we’d done. Or if it was a relationship thing—something we’d also done. Orrrrr, if it was a casual sex thing that happened from time to time—something we’d also done. So, there really was no precedent, which really was an occupational hazard with us.

As much as I found him irresistible, there had been a reason I’d tried to stay away. My heart wanted more, and I was almost positive his wouldn’t. He cared for me, sure, but more than that? It was a question I was too worried to ask. If he said no, it would hurt this time and I had walked away to avoid that kind of hurt.

We should probably stop it.

Like
after
this time.

The day progressed as normal. I wasn’t hijacked in the hall by some other breathy debutant wanting a hook up so that was a plus. And other than an email from Rita reminding me to
try
, there was no further discussion of the sexy Black Addiction bassist. Another win. Not that my mind strayed far from him, our weekend together dominating my mind. The two text messages—one sweet and one dirty—he’d sent me, also made it hard to forget.

Classes ended with Jules and I heading back to the apartment. It was good to get home, waving to Ben on our way to the elevator, the doors opening when we’d reached our floor.