I blink. “Everything.” Then I shake my head yet again. “No. Nothing. Not about you and him. He should tell me that.”
Guy makes a noise and my eyes flick to him. He smiles weakly at me. “He’s not going to tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Park says from the doorway, “it’s ancient history.” He folds his arms in front of his chest and glares at the floor. “Go home, Lucy.”
“Stop being an ass,” Hope whispers.
Park smiles at her, but it’s cold, unfriendly, and it sends a chill down my back. “You can go home, too, Hope.”
“Fine,” she says. “I’ll go to Lucy’s. We can get to know each other.”
Park is across the room so quickly I don’t even register his movement until he’s between me and Hope. “Stay the fuck away from her,” he seethes.
“I’m not going to contaminate her,” Hope throws back.
“You contaminate everything you touch,” he shouts. Hope rears back at that as if he hit her.
“Park,” Guy warns with just one word.
Without taking his eyes off of Hope, Park steps back. “Fuck it. I’ll leave. You all have a nice visit.”
I sit dumbfounded, unable to do anything but watch as he walks away.
What the hell just happened? I close my eyes for a moment and take a shaky breath. I feel like I just lost Park before I ever really had him.
22
Park
I drive for hours. By the time I roll through the drive thru for a burger, it’s early evening and I have a massive headache from the chain of cigarettes I’ve smoked. The music doesn’t help either, but the louder I keep it, the more it drowns my thoughts. And the deeper I can sink them the better. I’ll take the physical pain in my head over the pain my mind can cause any day.
Pulling behind the back of the building, I shift into park and lean my seat back. I close my eyes in an attempt to relieve some of the throbbing in my skull. But all I see is Lucy, sitting at the table with Hope.
Fuck.
I unwrap my sandwich and shove half the thing in my mouth. It’s greasy and tastes like shit, but I choke it down anyway. I need something in my stomach because my next stop is for alcohol. Lots of it. I have no idea how long Hope’s planning on sticking around, but I’m going to need to be drunk to deal with it. I crinkle the oily paper in my fist and toss it on the passenger side floor.
When I’m back on the road, I light my last cigarette and add the now empty pack to the trash lining the floor. I skip to a more mellow song, trying to relax. I hate that I allow Hope to get to me. It’s not even her, really. It’s what she represents. I know that, but I have this gut reaction at the sight of her. No matter how many times I tell myself to get past this shit—I can’t. I hold onto it like a life force, as if letting it go will cause it all to happen again.
Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I needed the reminder because I nearly let myself get close to Lucy. I’m pissed at myself for the slip and I feel like shit for what I know I’m going to have to do, but I can’t let it go on. It’s already gone too far.
I pull up in front of the small house that is home to my three band mates. I don’t come here often, but they’re always good for a party. And that’s exactly what I need right now. The door’s hanging wide open and I can hear the rumbling bass of the TV induced gunfire before I even shut the car off.
Two girls are sitting on the porch smoking a joint like it’s legal. I almost don’t recognize Remy—also known as Yoko by everybody in the band except the drummer. And that’s only because he’s her boyfriend. She cut her hair up to her chin and dyed it a deep black. She looks good, but I know how crazy this chick can get, so I usually avoid her. I pluck the joint from between her fingers as I pass by, making eye contact with her friend. She’s cute and might just be what I need tonight.
“Puff, puff, pass,” Remy says, holding out give-me hands. I raise a brow and take a long hit. “Come on, Park. I need to get my buzz on before the house fills up.”
I take another drag and start to hand it back, but shift at the last second, holding it out to the friend. She smiles as she takes it and I know I’ll be getting acquainted with some part of her body before the night’s over.
“The guys are inside,” Remy announces.
I don’t acknowledge her as I lean closer to the friend. “What’s your name?”
“Erika.” Her eyes tumble down the length of my chest and I grin.
“Well, Erika, I think I’m going to be here awhile. Come find me later.”
“She has a boyfriend,” Remy spits. “God, can’t you ever put your dick away?”
“I don’t care,” I retort. And then I glance over at her. “Why are you so worried about my dick, Rem?”
She lifts her lip in a disgusted snarl. “Kiss my ass, Park.”
“You’ve smoked way too much if you think my lips are getting anywhere near your ass.” She opens her mouth to reply, but I throw my hand up in front of her face, cutting her off. “Where’s this boyfriend?” I ask Erika.
“He’s supposed to come by later.”
I narrow my gaze on her mouth. “Come find me later,” I say again. “Before he gets here.”
“Get out of my face,” Remy seethes. I step backwards and she glares at me.
“Remy, it’s always a pleasure.”
“Fuck you.”
I chuckle as I pass through the door. “In your dreams.”
“I hate you,” she yells after me.
Not more than I hate myself.
I find the guys in the back room, sprawled out on the couches, playing video games. I settle in next to Lewis and he hands me a beer. “Your girl was hitting on me again,” I say, twisting the cap and sucking down half the bottle.
He shrugs. “Well can you blame her? You are awfully pretty.” Aaron, the bassist, glances over at us, huffing out an amused snort, but he doesn’t comment.
I laugh and take another drink. “This face is a curse.”
Seth sits forward so he can see around Lewis. “Man, I don’t know what the hell you guys are saying. You got a mean mug. I can’t even look at your ugly ass.” He scratches at his buzzed head and tosses his controller on the table. “You didn’t even bring me any presents.”
I shake my head. “No, but I found a nice little gift on the porch.”
He nods. “Erika.” Seth says her name like he plays the guitar—smooth and entrancing. “She’s got a boyfriend.”
I smirk at him. “I could give a shit.” Before he can reply, Erika glides into the room and settles her ass onto my lap.
“Guess she doesn’t give a shit either,” Lewis murmurs and I chuckle.
“Give me another beer,” I say. “My hands are full.”
“I fucking can’t stand this guy,” Seth breathes. “Been here five minutes and he’s already corrupted Erika.”
“This isn’t corruption,” I counter. “I’m not making her do anything.” I slide a hand up her thigh, resting it in her lap, and trail my thumb back and forth. She leans in as I take the beer from Lewis, and I can feel her breath against my throat.
An image of Lucy flashes through my mind and I swallow with difficulty. I need something stronger than piss warm, generic beer. I tap Erika’s leg. “Hey, watch out a second. I need a shot.” She gives me a confused look, but slides off my legs and I shoot out of the chair, stalking to the kitchen. I don’t bother with a glass. Instead I drink straight from the bottle until my throat rejects anymore.
As I set the bottle down, I notice movement out of the corner of my eye. Erika. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, watching her move toward me slowly.
“I’ve been to almost all of your shows.”
I cock a brow as I study her. I don’t recall ever seeing her before. She flips her chestnut hair off one shoulder and wets her lips. They’re nice lips, but she has nothing on Lucy’s gorgeous mouth.
Wait. No. Fuck.
Get out of my head.
I clear my throat and try to focus on the girl that’s actually in the room. “Oh yeah? You a fan?”
She stops in front of me, her fingers slipping into the waist of my jeans. “I’m a huge fan of yours,” she says, her voice dropping. “I love watching you perform.” She blinks, looking up at me through dark lashes.
“You want to get out of here?” I ask.
She nods and I’m following her out the door, the bottle of Jack in my hand.
***
I zip my pants and kick the trash around on the floor, searching for the cigarette I dropped. Everything is spinning, so I give up, pulling another one from my new pack—courtesy of Erika.
“We can’t go back to my place,” she says. “My boyfriend is probably looking for me.”
I glance at her and smirk. Yeah, that’s probably not a good idea. I’m way too drunk to defend myself against some jealous boyfriend. Especially if he finds out I just had my dick in his girl’s mouth.
“We can go back to my place.” I flick my fingers out, motioning for her to drive.
I know I’m giving shitty directions because my brain is refusing to remember street names, but she manages to get us to the apartment. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this is a bad idea. I just don’t care. In fact, I welcome it. I’m on a spiral and I just can’t stop.
This is why I love liquor. It instantly numbs. Fuck lucidity.
I stumble up the stairs and try to get my key in the door. I miss twice before it opens on its own. I lift my head to find Guy staring at me. If disapproval had a face—it’d look like Guy.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I grin at him. “Hey man.”
“What are you doing?” he repeats, his voice coming out in a shrill hiss that makes me cringe. He’d be the voice, too.
“I’m trying to get into my apartment,” I sigh. “Can you back up?”
Guy looks past me and points one finger. “You need to go.”
“You need to go. I fucking live here.”
He rolls his eyes. “Not you. Her.” I glance back and Erika shifts her feet uncomfortably.
“Erika,” I sing. I forgot about her already. “Hey, come here. This is my best friend. You have to come meet him.”
She steps forward and Guy gives a half smile. “Hi. Thanks for getting his drunk ass home, but you can’t stay.”
I feel my eyebrows crinkle in confusion. “Why can’t she can stay? I have plans for her.”
Closing his eyes and taking a noticeable breath, Guy shakes his head. “Park, dude, you’re drunk and not thinking clearly.”
I chuckle, leaning against the doorframe for support. “That’s the point,” I tell him. I tap my temple. “I don’t want to think clearly.”
“Lulu’s here.”
That name stops my heart for a split second before it pounds erratically in my chest. I push off the door and shove past Guy. “Don’t care,” I mutter as I reach back and grab Erika’s hand. I lead her into the living room and take in the sight.
Guess we’re having a party. My eyes trail over the many faces—most I recognize, some I don’t. I stop on that dude Bree hooked Lucy up with. What’s his fucking name?
He nods at me. And I narrow my eyes. “Hi,” he says, standing up. He extends his hand toward me. “I’m Kyle.”
Kyle. That’s right. Douche bag Kyle.
My eyes flick down to his hand then back to his face. I don’t move.
His brows raise and he drops his hand. I sit in the empty chair across from him and finish my perusal of the room. Jessie’s crazy cousin’s here. Awesome. She rolls her eyes as my gaze slides over her. I’m so glad I didn’t hit that.