The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but what the fuck else can I say?
Owen laughs. “Right on, dude. I struck out tonight too.”
I’m a little surprised, considering he left with a woman, but I don’t press him.
“Then let’s go get out of here, let’s go get one more beer. My treat.” I rise to my feet, hoping like hell he takes the bait.
After a moment’s hesitation, he shrugs. “Why the fuck not.”
It’s not the most genius plan in the world, but I need to get Owen out of the apartment so Elise can sneak out. It’s the only thing I can think of when I still having a raging, and rather neglected, erection
between my thighs.
After Owen and I exit the apartment, I shoot off a text to Elise.
I am so fucking sorry. I didn’t think he’d come home tonight.
She replies after a few seconds.
Did you guys just leave?
Owen’s busy on his phone, and so I don’t hesi- tate I snap a quick reply back to her.
Yes, I thought it best to get him out of the apartment so you could leave. Again, I’m so fuck-
ing sorry.
Her reply is just a laughing face emoji.
I release a slow exhale, thankful she’s not pissed off. I just asked her to sneak out of my apart- ment rather than deal with the situation like a man. It’s not my best moment.
Oh my God thank you. You’re a
genius. I’m leaving now.
I don’t feel like a genius, I feel like an asshole. An asshole who needs to blow my load. We exit the elevator and then leave our building, walking toward the little dive bar that’s closest to our place. Tonight feels like the punchline to a bad joke. I’ve waited three months for this and all I get is the taste of her perfect pussy on my lips and the world’s worst case of blue balls. My fingers are busy typ- ing out another apology to Elise.
I feel awful. How mad are you
right now?
Her reply comes in just as we reach the front door to the bar. I pull it open and wait for Owen to step through. While he leads the way to the bar, I look down to read her response.
Not mad. I feel bad about leav- ing you like THAT.
I get the sense that THAT is code for the mon- ster erection that’s still aching in my pants.
I force my thumbs into action.
I’ll live.
I didn’t get to return the fa- vor.
:(
God, this girl. She’s fucking killing me.
I probably deserved it.
Owen and I reach the bar, and we take a seat on two barstools. The place is mostly deserted tonight. I take a brief glance down to see Elise’s reply.
I guess it’s karma for you ghost- ing before.
I shake my head and chuckle, then type:
Exactly.
“Who are you texting with? You’re so distract- ed,” Owens asks, eyes narrowing.
“No one. Sorry.” I shove my phone into my
pocket so I’m not tempted to look at it again.
“This guy’s paying,” he announces to the bar- tender with a smirk, then he orders the most expen- sive whiskey on the menu. Thirty bucks a glass.
I reach for my back pocket and shake my head.
Shit.
“I forgot my wallet,” I croak. Owen rolls his eyes. “Fucker.”
In my haste to get out of the apartment, I’m dressed in a pair of tuxedo pants, a Nirvana t-shirt, and my Vans with no socks. And apparently no wallet. It’s quite an ensemble.
I order a beer on Owen and promise to pay him back, but he just shakes his head. He makes mil- lions of dollars a year. He doesn’t need me to buy him a drink anyway.
As I listen to him give a recap on his night, I find myself drifting away to memories of my own night. Memories of how stunning Elise looked in that little pink dress, of how good she felt in my arms. I’m desperate to pull my phone out and check for more messages from her, but I don’t dare do it yet.
Finally, Owen excuses himself to the bath-
room, and I fumble for my phone, fucking up the passcode three times in my haste to unlock it.
I quickly type out a message and hit send.
Just wanted to make sure you got
home safe.
Her reply is quick: I’m home now. Thank you for tonight.
Thank you for sharing your gor- geous body with me, I type back.
It’s a little cheesy, but fuck it. I click send just as Owen comes strolling back from the restroom. He sits down beside me and takes a sip of his whis- key.
As I slip my phone back in my pocket, he turns to me and slaps a hand on my shoulder.
“Thanks for bringing Elise tonight so she could hang out with Becca. I know she’s been down since that guy dumped her.”
Guilt churns low in my stomach. “It was noth- ing,” I choke out the words and take a long drink of
the beer that’s been placed in front of me.
He shakes his head and gives me a slight smile. “You’re a good friend.”
He wouldn’t be saying that to me if he knew that I still have the taste of her on my tongue, and that my dick is aching to be inside of her as we speak.
I feel like a huge, lying asshole, and I hate how my choices are either to hurt Elise or to lie to Owen. There’s just no gray area, only black and white about this situation, and it sucks.
Rock meet hard place.