Chapter Twenty

Jordan

The Timeout wasn’t the type of place I usually went after work. It was a little too fancy for my usual taste. But, it was down the street from Chastity’s place and after we’d finished up for the day, the guys wanted to go out for a drink. It was SOP with this crew. They’d invited me along and at first, I’d declined. But God knew I needed one after the day I’d had.

The beers were all some IPA and cost twice as much as I was used to paying, but it was worth it just to get some fucking alcohol in my system. I needed to numb my emotions for a bit.

“Paul is so fucking whipped,” Kyle said, shaking his head as we sat down in a corner booth. “Can’t believe he won’t come out with us anymore. All because he’s got a girlfriend now and she won’t let him. What a fucking pussy. I tell you what, I’m not going to let some broad order me around like that. I do what I want when I want.”

“Not that you even know what that’s like,” Lucas said. “No woman would have you, let alone want to spend all her waking time with you.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t,” Kyle said with a shrug. “Because girlfriends are too much work. Fuckbuddies, now that’s something I can get behind. Ain’t that right, Jordan?”

Kyle smirked, knowing he was screwing with me. After what happened that morning – and then my attitude later while working at Chastity’s place – he knew something was up with me. Knew it couldn’t be good. He was just trying to screw with me to get me to lighten up.

I wasn’t in the mood. I was nowhere near in the fucking mood. So, I ignored him, drinking my overpriced beer and stared out at the crowd of people milling about in the bar.

Yeah, this most definitely wasn’t my scene. The women all carried Gucci and Prada bags, or at least pretty convincing knock-offs. They all also wore little to no actual clothing. The guys looked like rejects from a Wholefoods commercial – man buns, thick bush beards, and obnoxious as fuck mustaches. One guy had a waxed handlebar mustache and I wanted to punch him square in the face for it.

I’d probably already done enough punching for the day.

“How did I let you guys talk me into coming to a bar filled with hipster douchebags?” I mumbled. “Christ on a fucking crutch this place sucks.”

Kyle continued smirking – it was his idea to come here in the first place.

“Look around, my friend. Do you see the fine pieces of ass that populate this fine establishment? Women galore. Women who are desperately crying out for a good fucking, mind you. And also, a host of men who wouldn’t know how to handle them if you gave them an instruction booklet,” he said. “These men, if you want to call them that, are more interested in waxing their man-buns, sharing their feelings, and talking about global warming, than they are in getting in there and doing the dirty. Pussies, I call them. Girly men who are too sensitive to come on to them. Which means that while all of these so-called men are reading poetry and giving each other hand jobs, they’re leaving all of these lonely, desperately horny women wanting nothing more than for some big studs like us to come on in and show them what a real man is like. They, my friend, are ripe for the picking.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, man.” I shrugged and leaned back in my seat.

A brunette with a face-framing bob cut smiled at me from the next table. She was cute – chestnut colored hair, olive skin and deep, brown eyes. From what I could see of her body, she was packing in the cleavage department too, sporting at least C cups. Normally, I would have been all over that shit in a heartbeat. Today I looked away, staring down at my hands instead.

Lucas must have noticed her too. He invited the brunette and her friend over to join us. I ignored the entire conversation until the woman sat down beside me, forcing me to scoot over to avoid having her sitting on my lap.

“I’m Lauren,” she said, batting her thick eyelashes at me, “And this is my sister, Carrie.”

I looked up at her sister for the first time, and she had the same chocolate brown eyes, but her hair was lightened to almost a bleach blonde color that had brassy tones. Her hair was even shorter, almost a pixie cut. But her large brown eyes made her look extremely feminine and cute. Again, someone else I might have gone for in another time. Hell, in another time, I probably would have taken them both home and fucked them.

But, that was before I knew what actual beauty and class was like.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I muttered.

Lucas did the job of introducing me, “This is my grouchy friend, Jordan,” he said, then jokingly whispered, “He just broke up with his girl and could use a little pick me up, ladies.”

The two women at the table said, “Aww” at the same time, and Lauren put an arm around my shoulder.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, giving my shoulder a squeeze.

“She wasn’t my girlfriend,” I muttered, taking a drink from my beer. “We were just – you know, never mind. It’s nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

I’d fucked up big time with Chastity and I knew it. I’d let my temper get the best of me. Not the first time it had happened and probably wouldn’t be the last.

But she was right – maybe we weren’t good together. Our lives were totally different. She would never be happy with someone like me. Not when she was always so worried about her career and image and shit.

My phone buzzed, and it was an unfamiliar number – but the message caught my eye.

“It’s Chastity,” it said. “My phone died, this is my office phone. Can we talk? Meet me at the lobby of the Barclay.”

My heart skipped a beat as I read the words over and over. I stared down at my phone for a little too long, and Lauren peeked over at it.

“Is that the girlfriend?” she asked. “Because, you know, I can help you forget all about her.”

Her hand had slipped from my shoulder and slid down to my leg. I was frozen for a moment, my mind swirling in a million different directions, not entirely sure what to do when I noticed her hand was inching closer to my groin.

I grabbed her hand, stopping her before she could get any further. She pouted at me, but I yanked her hand away and let it go.

“I have to go,” I said, slipping the phone in my pocket. “It was nice meeting you both.”

“If that’s her,” Kyle said, shaking his head, “You’re just as whipped as Paul.”

“Fuck you, man,” I said, downing the rest of my beer.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I was whipped. But the thought of leaving things the way they were with Chastity – with her thinking I was a jackass – was more than I could bear. I had to do something to make it right, and if possible, mend things with her.

Because truth be told, there was no one in the world that made me feel the way she did. And somewhere inside, somewhere deep down, I was hopeful we could get past our differences and find a way to make it work. To make us work.

I hurried over to the hotel – where it had all started.