“Touch me,” she says, her voice husky, looking at me over her shoulder as she pulls down the zipper of her dress.

“I will,” I reply, leaning back on my sofa, the bottle of vodka half-empty, dangling from my fingers.

Eventually.

Although she’s not Hailey.

And it shouldn’t matter.

The girl is not bad looking. She has something… sweet about her. Something about the bouncy bob of honey-blond hair and the fullness of her curves…

Something of Hailey – and dammit, when will I stop comparing every single woman to her? It’s over between us, has been over for months now, and damn if I’m gonna turn into a monk just because…

Shaking my head, I lift the bottle and take another deep gulp, feeling the heat traveling down my throat, spreading in my chest.

“Hey.” She’s glaring at me, her dress off, dressed in a black lacy bra and a matching set of panties. “Am I boring you?”

I blink. Kinda lost track of time there. Time, and place, and girl. I try to get my head back in the game. “Look, Stacy…”

“Macy,” she snaps, and grabs her dress from the floor, giving me a full view of her ample rack. “Jesus, what am I doing here with you?”

“What? Hold on a sec.” In sudden panic, I shove myself off the sofa and to my feet. The room spins lazily and I rub a hand over my face. “Not so fast.”

“Why? You’re clearly not interested.” She waves a hand at me, or at my crotch, maybe – and my very evident lack of interest in her little striptease. Her eyes lift to my face, anger lighting them up, although I couldn’t tell you their color, or even if they’re pretty. “Why am I here, Kaden? Who are you trying to get over, huh?”

“I’m not fucking trying anything.” Anger heats up my neck, and I don’t even know why the hell I’m so incensed at the suggestion I might be trying to get over…

Her.

“Come here.” I tamp down on my rising fury – at myself, rather at this girl – and reach for her, even if my dick isn’t even half-hard. “Come on. We’re just having a good time. We’re only just starting.”

“Not sure about this,” she says, and draws away, brows drawing together. “This isn’t what I signed up for.”

Goddammit.

I shove my hair out of my eyes and groan deep in my throat. “Then go. Get the hell out.”

Her eyes widen, and her fear annoys me even more – isn’t this what she wanted? What she all but forced me to say? I knew it was a fucking bad idea bringing her here. I never bring girls to my pad.

Won’t be happening again.

Then her eyes narrow, sparking with anger of her own. “Screw you, Kaden. The rumors were right about you. You’re a rude asshole.”

Yeah, obviously.

Gathering her things, yanking up the zipper of her dress, she throws me one last venomous look and departs, slamming the door behind her.

She has no right to feel used. I’ve never met her before in my life, and if she was looking at me, waiting for a chance to jump my bones, well that’s not on me, is it? I wasn’t stringing her along.

Fuck, it’s a good thing we didn’t get down and dirty before this happened. Last thing I need is another round of tongues wagging about my “deviant sex practices” – a rumor I owe to a girl I slept with a couple of times before meeting Hailey—

Why in the fucking hell am I thinking of her again?

Jesus. Can’t keep going around with her on my mind day after day, night after night, just because…

No way. It’s been long enough, and it’s not my fucking fault she up and left, without a proper explanation.

Hailey with her bright laughter and sexy curves, who tried to help me reconnect with my brother. Who accepted me was I am.

Or so I thought.

But the hell who cares now, right?

Grabbing my trusted bottle from where I let it drop to the floor as I got up, I glare at what is left in it.

Not nearly enough. What I need is something to knock me out, knock the thoughts out of my head until it’s blessedly empty. I’d hoped sex would be the solution, that it could cure of me this goddamn funk.

But it didn’t work out last night, or the night before. Not that I managed to get it up to even try, and fuck if that didn’t piss me off more.

In fact, nothing works.

Cursing, I throw the bottle back down where it rolls over the carpet, leaving a trail of Vodka and alcohol fumes. I stalk to the window, stare outside at the dark sky. My pad is in the suburbs, the backside facing out into nothingness. Or so it feels. There’s a back yard with a fence and a shed. And a couple trees, their shadows black against the clouds.

I slip the elastic band I often wear around my wrist over my hair, tie it back, and press my hot forehead to the cool glass, drawing in a long breath, holding it. Feeling it in my chest.

What the fuck am I doing?

Why the fuck do I feel like shit?

I can fuck any chick I like. They line up to get into my pants, at the Garage, at the bars at night. Throwing themselves at me. They say I look cute, I look hot, that they want to suck my dick, that they want me to take them against the wall.

And I let them. Take them. Fuck them, sometimes, but all I feel is anger. It won’t let me focus, won’t let me relax.

This can’t go on. She was the one that left for no good reason.

Oh sure, she threw some wild accusations at me about sleeping around, and I told her that was bullshit, but she didn’t stick around after that. Didn’t seem to even hear me.

Yeah, it annoys me how much that fucking hurt. But it’s over now. Forgotten. Not like I feel something about her anymore. Or felt, ever. Right? I can’t stop living just because…

Just because I miss Hailey, goddammit.

I close my eyes and breathe out. Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with me? Fuck. No, all right? I don’t. I don’t miss her.

Not at all.