“Stop,” I repeat and move her away from me. Buttoning up my pants, I know I can’t do this. I know that she isn’t, but all that floods my head is that this girl could be that girl. And what the hell am I doing with her anyway? Using her for a quick f**k to satisfy some sick need I have that I can’t seem to get rid of? Fuck.
“Did I do something?” she questions, and the last thing I wanna do is make her feel like shit.
“Pull your shirt down,” I tell her before opening the door. When I do, I look at her and say, “You didn’t do anything. I’m just . . . I just can’t do this. Sorry.” I turn to walk out and back into the club. I don’t even look for the guys; I just head straight out the door and continue to my jeep, to head home and jerk off.
I sit in my office at the bar, drinking beer and not getting much work done at all. Last night was messed up, and I know I can’t be doing that shit again. I need something else to focus on, so I spent the morning clearing the images off of my camera and loading them onto my computer to start editing and enhancing. I figure I can work on those to suck up all the free time I seem to have on my hands at night now.
When the door to my office opens, Jase walks in.
“Hey, man,” he says as he walks straight to the little fridge that’s behind my desk that I keep stocked with beer.
“Can you toss me another one of those?” I ask as I throw my empty bottle into the trash.
Handing me the beer, he asks, “So, you been up here all day?”
“Pretty much. You know how Saturdays are—crazy as hell all day.” I take a drink and then add, “Missed you last night. Mark said you got hung-up with a friend.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. She’s been going through a rough time, so I decided to stay with her last night.”
“You missed a pretty good show,” I tell him, referring more to his boyfriend than the band.
“That’s what Mark said.”
I can’t help but laugh at the thought of him last night. “Your guy’s a little crazy when he drinks.”
“I’m not even gonna ask, but he was in a piss-ass mood when I saw him earlier.”
“Ha! I bet. He drank a shitload, probably hungover as f**k.”
We both laugh when the door opens and Mark walks through. “What’s so funny?” he asks as he stands there.
“You, man,” I chuckle.
“If this is about last night, I don’t even wanna know what the hell I did. My head has been pounding all damn day, and now I have to play for the next two hours.”
“Go find Max. He always has earplugs,” I tell him.
“Not a bad idea.” Turning to Jase he asks, “Can I stay with you tonight? My new roommate just decided to tell me that he’s throwing a party tonight.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Well, I gotta run. I just wanted to catch you,” he says before he heads back down to the bar.
I start to shut down my computer when I ask, “So, is she okay?”
“Who?”
“Your friend. The one you were with last night,” I say.
Standing up, I grab my beer and start to head out when Jase stands to follow me, saying, “She’s getting there.”
Chapter Eight
Since that night at The Crocodile a few weeks ago, I’ve been out of touch with Gavin and spending more time with Jase and Mark. I hit the coast the other week to get a break and do some surfing. I’ve finished working on several of the photos that were stored on my camera and picked up the mattings from the framer yesterday. I don’t know what I plan on doing with them, but I spent so much time working on them, that I felt like I needed to finish them off by getting them matted.
I had to call Tori to let her know I wouldn’t be making it back home for Halloween. I know she was disappointed, but Michael has had some things come up at home and hasn’t been at the bar very much. Not sure what’s going on with him, but I’ve had to be at work more than usual, covering for him.
Pulling out my phone, I open up my video chat and connect to Tori. I promised her I would call to say hi to Connor and Bailey before they leave to go trick-or-treating.
The call connects, and I see Tori when she answers.
“Hey, Ryan,” she says, and I can tell she’s flustered. The background is filled with the kids laughing and being loud as usual.
“You look rough,” I tease.
“Connor had a Halloween party at a play date we went to earlier, so the kid is hopped up on sugar,” she explains.
“Put him on. I wanna see him.”
“Connor, Uncle Ry is on the phone,” she hollers over her shoulder, and I see a miniature Superman with not-so-miniature padded muscles.
“Buddy! When have you been hitting the gym?” I ask.
“I have muscles,” he says and then crooks his arm up with an intense face and growls, “Arrrr.”
I laugh at his mock intensity and say, “Dude, you’re getting bigger than me.”
“Show me yours, Uncle Ryan,” he requests.
Crooking my arm in the same way he did, and giving him the intensity right back, I flex and growl, “Arrrr.”
His eyes grow big, in the way only an innocent four-year-old’s can, and he says, excitedly, “Wow!”
“Yeah, man. Keep lifting those weights, and you’ll get big guns like me.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Tori teases as she pops her head back on to the screen.