Sitting at the table in the Italian restaurant I said I’d meet Bristol at tonight for our date, I rub my palms over my jeans and try to push my anxiety down. More than anything, I wish I could be excited about it, but all I feel is a pit of dread in my stomach.
I should’ve known this was a bad idea the second it crossed through my brain.
Hell, I did know it was a bad idea. But here I am, still doing it anyway, out of sheer pettiness and spite toward Keene.
Maybe some other being has taken control of my brain and all motor functions. Aliens, probably. Or maybe it’s a brain tumor. People do stupid, out of character things when they have those, right?
I shake my head, trying to focus on anything other than my spiking heart rate while I wait for my first date in years. Which, of course, sends my mind to think about the only other thing I don’t want to be thinking about: Keene Waters, and the irritating way he’s been getting under my skin ever since last weekend.
I think part of the issue stems from knowing someone for two decades. They know every little thing that makes you tick. How to coax whatever emotion they want out of you at the drop of a hat, and they make it look damn easy when they do.
After this long, Keene’s apparently become really fucking good at pissing me off whenever he wants.
The soft classical music playing from hidden speakers throughout the restaurant does nothing to help my nerves or frustration, either. It sets a tone, along with the dim lighting, which gives off a more romantic and intimate vibe than I’d like on a first real date.
I run my fingers over the table cloth—yeah, a fucking table cloth—and sigh to myself.
I should’ve just canceled.
But hell if I was gonna sit there all night with Keene while we don’t talk to each other and let the weirdness happening between us just stew and simmer uncomfortably.
“Stop thinking about him,” I mutter to myself as I fiddle with a fork on the table. “That’s what he wants you to be doing right now.”
He also wants to drive me to the brink of insanity, apparently. Talking to myself is a clear indication I’m already halfway there.
Keene knew exactly what he was doing by saying that shit to me before I left the dorm.
He was doing his best to get in my head. And sure as shit, those words have only kept my mind circling around the bastard since the minute I left. No more than five goddamn minutes pass without him in my brain.
It only enhances the frustration I’m feeling, knowing he’s getting exactly what he wanted, even if he isn’t here to see it for himself. Yet another sign that fucking with my head might be his new favorite pastime. Last I checked, that’s what he has baseball for, but apparently he’s moved on to much more entertaining options.
“Hey,” a soft voice says from behind me. The pressure of a hand on my back has me turning in my seat to find Bristol standing behind me.
“Hey,” I say as I take her in. She looks absolutely stunning, dressed in a knee-length black dress with a cutout between her breasts that’s just toeing the line of sensual and completely inappropriate. But it’s also enough to let me know that if I wanna get laid tonight, I absolutely will.
I dare you to think of me when you fuck her tonight, echoes in my head, and I let out a low growl as I rise from my seat.
“You look amazing,” I tell her truthfully as I kiss her cheek and pull out the chair across from me.
Her eyes rake over my body before a sinfully seductive smirk appears on her blood-red painted lips. “You don’t clean up bad yourself, Kohl.”
I smile tentatively, trying to ease some of the tension in my stomach as I take my seat across from her again. Thankfully, she launches right into making fun of my request to take her on a date, and honestly, I’ll take a bit of roasting over the uncomfortable weight on my chest.
But that tiny bit of comfort is gone quickly when we start stumbling through some pretty awkward small-talk after we order and wait for our food. Most of it surrounds her ballet—which I don’t know jack shit about—or my classes—which she doesn’t care about either.
Needless to say, this date’s taking a fan-fucking-tastic turn after only ten minutes.
That’s probably the main reason my mind starts to wander off where it damn well shouldn’t. Like to Keene, and wondering what he’s doing right now while I’m not there.
The paranoid, slightly manic part of my brain is ridiculously fixated on the idea of him talking to another guy on his stupid hook-up app. But I’m sure that’s what he’s still doing right now. Maybe even sexting him, if the confidence he gained from what happened with me is anything to go by.
It shouldn’t matter if he is. I shouldn’t even care, because if Keene’s happy, that’s all that matters.
Yet all I feel is this overwhelming sense of…jealousy.
It’s not just from someone else taking his attention, either. I’ve learned to share him a long time ago in that regard, especially because he’s always been the more outgoing one of us.
I just don’t want to share that piece of him. The piece that started questioning his sexuality because of me. And in the fucked-up logic of my mind, because it’s me that he figured it out with, it should also be me he does all that other shit with.
Jesus Christ, I sound neurotic to my own self.
But it’s how I feel, and if I’ve learned a damn thing in life, it’s that my feelings are valid, no matter how misplaced they might be.
Our food arrives moments later, and I take the opportunity to dig into the lasagna sitting in front of me…which happens to be Keene’s favorite Italian dish. I didn’t even realize I ordered it until now.
What are you doing to me, Kee? Why can’t I get you outta my head?
Bristol lets out a low moan when she bites into her carbonara, and the sound brings me back to another moan that’s been stuck in the back of my mind ever since I heard it.
My cock twitches in my pants as I zero in on the memory. Rewinding and replaying it, as I envision the video of Keene stroking his cock for me in view of the camera. Then my mind takes it a step further, pairing it with how soft I know his lips feel pressed to mine, or how the slight stubble of his jaw feels cupped in my palm from when we kissed all that time ago.
A moment that might’ve been shoved to the recesses of my mind, but is back with vivid clarity now.
“Aspen,” Bristol says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. It’s enough to startle me and pull me from my daze.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m sorry, Bristol. I didn’t mean to space—”
“You’re not really into this, are you?”
My teeth sink in my lower lip and I let out a disgruntled sigh.
“It’s not you, I swear. And I’m not normally this much of a headcase. I’m just…” I trail off, scrubbing my palms over my face. “I’m just a mess right now.”
She smiles, warm and kind, and reaches over to pat my hand resting on the table. “We’re all a bit of a mess sometimes. But I think this might be more than that.”
Leave it to Brist to pick up on the shit vibes I wasn’t even aware I was giving out.
A low groan slips out of my throat, and I shake my head. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Her shrug and carefree smile let me know she isn’t mad before her words have the chance. “Believe me, Aspen. I was more shocked than anyone when you asked me to dinner tonight. That’s why I was giving you hell about it, because I honestly thought you were kidding.”
What?
“Why would you think that?”
“You’re…” She trails off, measuring her words. “You’re not a relationship guy, really. You could be if you tried, but you’re too detached for it.”
It’s not like she’s telling me something I don’t already know. I’ve made myself this way. Isolated sex from emotions, making it so no one would dare try to get close enough to hurt me.
I guess I just didn’t realize other people saw right through it.
“I hope that doesn’t offend you,” she continues, picking at the food on her plate and avoiding my eyes. “You’re a lot of fun to be around, but it’s all surface level, ya know? I don’t think you let anyone but Keene see past that, which makes it impossible for anything deeper between us.” She pauses and meets my gaze. “And thinking about it, even after a year, I probably know Keene better than I know you.”
Mention of Keene lights a bit of a fire inside me. Mostly because I’m trying not to think of him, but somehow, he’s fucking everywhere.
“Keene’s an open book,” I tell her. “Of course you’d be able to get to know him better than me. He’s basically a golden retriever in human form.”
“Maybe, but I’m not sleeping with Keene,” she counters. “Don’t get me wrong, the sex with you is some of the best I’ve ever had, but in no way would I want to taint that by attempting to turn this into something more than just a physical relationship. That’s not what I’m looking to get into in college anyway.”
Wait a minute.
Is she saying—
“Oh, God.” I look at her for a second, taking in her expression. “This wasn’t me trying to…” I trail off and laugh some more. “Shit, Brist. I’m not trying to make you my girlfriend or anything by asking you on a date.”
She frowns and sits back in her chair. “Then why did you?”
Well, isn’t that the question of the fucking hour.
“I just…” Searching for the words isn’t easy, but finally I settle on, “I’m trying to figure myself out. Who I am and what I want. And part of me thought that taking you out on an actual date, not just to my bed, might help with that.”
She blows out a long breath and nods. “Well, that makes a lot more sense. I get it, and I’m all for it. But I don’t think we should be seeing each other anymore.”
I go to object, but she holds up a hand.
“If you’re serious about trying to figure yourself out, I don’t want to make it harder by letting you get comfortable again in what we had.”
I nod a couple times, a small amount of unexpected sadness hitting me.
“I can’t say I’m surprised to hear you say that. No matter how much I don’t want to hear it, because I do like you, Brist.”
“I like you too. And I truly am sorry.” Her hand lands on mine from across the table, and she gives it a squeeze. “I think it’s better for you to put the focus on yourself. But just know, I’m happy to help however I can. I’m sure you’ve got Keene to help you too.”
That sends my mood nosediving further.
He’d be a lot of help, if only he weren’t the entire fucking reason for this little crisis I’m having in the first place. Then shit could just go back to normal, and I’d be getting laid tonight without worrying he’d pop into my head when I’m about to come.
Jesus, I need a drink.
“Yeah, thanks,” I say, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
From the look in her eyes, the slight amount of sympathy there, I’m not really sure she believes me. Hell, I don’t think I believe me.
Still, she nods and murmurs, “You’ll find yourself, Aspen. That’s what college is for, right?”
I nod back. “Yeah. It’s just…hard.”
Her lips twitch into a smirk. “That’s what she said.”
I bark out a laugh, immediately more at ease, and squeeze her hand. “But can we circle back to that let down, Brist? ‘I like you enough to fuck you, just not enough to date you.’ You’re as savage as ever,” I tease.
Her blue eyes roll and she smiles. “I must’ve learned from the best, Mr. Love ‘Em and Leave ‘Em.”
And now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “That’s an exaggeration, and you know it.”
She lets out a scoff. “Well, in that case, you’re still buying dinner. Dessert too.”
I chuckle again and shake my head. “Okay, I think I can do that.”
