Steve stopped in front of me. “Shut up, Zoey!”
He suddenly looked different. I mean, not only because of the lipstick all over his face in a shade that only a whore would wear, but because I knew this was it. I hadn’t realized how much I’d tied him to my future until that moment. Maybe it was how desperate I’d been tonotbe single anymore, to forget all of the relationships of the past that sucked. The ache in my heart was excruciating, every bit of my energy drained.
His green eyes met mine. “This isn’t what you think.”
I could feel the eighty eyeballs in the room boring into the back of my head as he reached out and took my hand in his. The feel of his touch made something explode inside of me. The hand he’d just been using to feel up a questionable woman he may have found on the street was on my arm, and before I knew what was happening, I’d punched him in the kisser—his dirty, dirty kisser. As he stumbled back, I kicked him in the balls, and he fell to the floor with a thunderous thud.
Zoey broke free of the men holding her and threw her arms in the air. “Yes!”
She snatched my hand while I looked down at Steve, rocking from side to side on the floor. Zoey grabbed the birthday cake from the table, handed it to me before she grabbed a bowl of melon balls, and we walked towards the door. She screeched to a halt and looked down at Steve.
“Looks like you’ve got some blood on your teeth, Steve. Stay away from my sister, or youwillbe the strange smell coming from my attic.”
Ten minutes later, I sat on the curb, ruining my new gown, watching Zoey smear the cake on Steve’s windshield. Around the corner was Cahill Avenue, a picturesque street lined with adorable shops and restaurants, the sound of laughter ringing out in the distance. Everyone down the street seemed to be having a great night while I sat on the curb with a wedgy and the fleeting thought that I almost chose not to wear panties under this dress. Seems I made the wrong choice.
Zoey skipped over and pulled me up with her cakey hands. “Your turn.” She grabbed the bowl of melon balls and threw one at the car.
“Zoey, this is stupid.”
She set the bowl on the curb before passionately grabbing a handful of the balls and placing them in my hand.
“Go.”
My eyes did a quick scan of the street before throwing one languidly at the car. It did feel kind of amazing. I threw one and then another, the strength in each pitch growing, and before I knew it, Zoey and I were cheering each other on as we melon-balled the car. It was exactly what I needed. Well, until we saw the cop car heading in our direction with its siren blaring.
“Shit!” Zoey grabbed my hand, and we started hauling ass until we reached a large group of people standing on the busy sidewalk outside of The Bierstube bar. We tried to blend in, laughing with them as if we were part of their group, and then pushed our way inside, no one the wiser.
Two dirty martinis later, my phone was buzzing. My forehead throbbed as I looked at some of the messages.
Several friends who’d been at the party messaged, wanting to make sure I was okay.Are you fucking kidding me? Was I okay?I sighed and tried to push down my ill-tempered thoughts. They were just being good friends, after all. Good friends I’d never be able to face again.
I imagined the tale of tonight being told at every surprise party for decades to come. The poor socialite who was blind-sided in front of everyone she knew when her boyfriend was caught red-handed sucking the face off of some woman in front of everyone. Shit.
I felt a kick in my chest when I read a message from Steve’s mom saying she did, in fact, think he was drugged and that he loved me very much. Poor, delusional lady.
Next, I saw the messages from Steve. I guess it was what you’d expect after the shit hit the fan. He wanted to talk and meet, blah, blah, blah. I messaged back that I didn’t want to see him and if he showed up at my apartment, I’d call the cops.
Steve:
Can I please just talk to you tomorrow?
Me:
Go to hell. This is so done.
“You know, it’s really not horrible how things went down tonight.” Zoey took a long drink of her whiskey.
“Please don’t try to make me feel better.”
“Now you don’t have to have that awkward moment when you see a friend and they ask how you and Steve are. They already know. It’ll save you lots of time.”
I cut my eyes at her with myyou’re not funnywarning. “I just want to go home.”
“Do you want to stay at my place? We could have a sleep-over, get totally wasted, and order Godfather’s Pizza. I know you love their cheesy bread.”She nudged my shoulder with hers. “I won’t tell anyone you ate like a plebeian.”
That got a smile from me.
A slick looking fella with an old school mafia flare sporting jeans and a button-down shirt stopped by the table with his eyes locked on Zoey.
