“It’s not a question of if they’re a friend or foe. It’s really a question of when the friend becomes a foe. At least in my experience.” ~Johnny Outlaw
On the eighth day, we rest. We sleep in until two in the afternoon. I haven’t slept past nine since I was in college, but with all the making up for lost time we’ve been spending together, our bodies and our minds need it.
You learn a lot about a person when you lay around in bed all day. Dalton tells me about his family and his childhood and I share my stories. Dalton’s dad worked construction and seemed to put all his dreams on Dalton to fulfill. His mother worked at a Texas college in the registrar’s office. He said she wanted him to go to that university, to bring baseball to the forefront for the school and win a much needed title. He was too determined to go to the University of Texas or University of Southern California; Those schools are where most pro ball players are recruited, so that’s where Dalton wanted to be.
I open my eyes though I’ve been awake for a while. “Do you ever go back?” I ask.
“To Texas?”
“Yes.”
He stays focused on the ceiling. “I haven’t been to visit my family since the band got big, but we’ve played shows in Houston and Dallas.”
“Not Austin?”
“I told Tommy no.”
“Too close to home?”
He sighs, closing his eyes again. “Too close to everything.” Reaching over, he grabs his phone from the nightstand. “I should get going.”
“Going where?”
Looking back at me, he says, “I have a wedding to go to.”
“What?” I sit up. “What wedding?”
“Remember that ex I told you about? It’s her big day.” His sarcasm is caught.
“I’m confused. You hate her.”
“I don’t hate her per se—”
“If you don’t hate her per se, that’s the same as saying you don’t like her either. Why are you going?”
“Because I have to. It’s PR that I committed to doing.”
After tossing the duvet off of me, I stand up. “Well maybe I don’t want you to go to your ex-girlfriend’s wedding.” I walk across the room to my suitcase. I dig through it and pull out some leggings and a big T-shirt, not caring how I look. I start to put them on while he sits up.
“What do you want me to do?”
Sitting down on the floor, I start to fold my clothes and pack them neatly back in the case. “I’m not gonna tell you what you can and can’t do, Dalton. Maybe you should go if you’ve already committed.”
“Do you want to come with me?”
I nod my head. “No, it’s not that. I just,” I start to say, looking at him, his bare chest distracting. “We’ve been holed up in this house for a week. The other times we were at my place.”
“So you want to go out… like in public? Be seen together?” I notice how he turns away from me when he says this and stares out the window.
“No, I don’t need grand statements like that. That would make it about everyone else. I think I need the little ones though. Ones like letting me know that you’re going to your ex’s wedding before you roll out of bed after making love to me.”
“I wasn’t hiding it from you. Tommy reminded me yesterday, and I forgot to mention it.”
Getting up, I pull the shirt down so it hangs correctly. I crawl onto the bed, pushing him down, and situate myself on top of him, straddling his taut midsection. “I’m glad it meant so little that you didn’t think it worth mentioning, but I want to know your schedule. I have a life and I don’t want to lose it because yours is so big.”
His hands slide up the curvature of my waist and he says, “Come with me. Let me show you off.”
Smiling, I run my fingertip over his bottom lip. “That’s exactly why I’m not going.”
Grabbing my wrists, he pulls me down. With our faces mere inches apart, he says, “You’re different than other women I’ve dated.”
“That’s why I’m here and they’re not,” I whisper, then kiss him.
He rolls on top of me, and says, “That’s exactly why you’re here and they’re not. I think you’re really fucking sexy.” His hands hold me down as his body starts to grind on top of me.
My body reacts as my mind relaxes, getting lost… until his phone rings. I sigh when he drops his head to the bed next to mine with an angry grunt. “Fuck.”
“It’s fine,” I reassure him, rubbing his back. “Answer it.”
When he lifts his head up, his eyes are darker than usual in the low light of the room. “It’s not fine.” The phone is still ringing while vibrating. He picks it up and is about to throw it, but I grab his arm to stop him.
“Don’t. I won’t be able to call you until you get a replacement.”
He drops it on the bed instead. The ringing has stopped but now texts start coming in. With another sigh, I move to the edge of the bed then stand up. “It’s probably Tommy. You should get dressed and go.” I walk back to my suitcase, close the top, and zip it up. I’m annoyed. I can admit it to myself at least. I don’t want him to go, but I’m not about to tell him he can’t.
Dalton watches me, his expression not giving away any of his thoughts.
“Call me later,” I say as I wheel my suitcase out the door.
Right before I reach the stairs, he scoops up the suitcase. I see he put jeans on too. He says, “I’ll call you when I leave the wedding.” We walk the rest of the way to the car in silence. He loads the case into my trunk, then asks, “You’re gonna come back, right?” His more boyish side comes out, innocence and hope seen in his eyes. I bet the girls went crazy for him back in high school.
“If you want me to,” I reply breezily, though I’m not feeling carefree at all.
He grabs me by the waist. “I want you to.”
I lift up on my tiptoes and kiss him quickly before hurrying to the other side of the car and hopping in. He shuts my door as I start the car and roll down the window. “I’ll see you later.”
With a nod, he shoves his hands in the pockets and I back out, leaving him standing there looking more sexy than should be allowed—shirtless, shoeless, the top button of his jeans undone. I keep my eyes ahead, needing any excuse not to look back at him because if I do, I won’t be leaving. And right now, it’s best that I don’t sit at his house waiting for him to return like a desperate housewife.
Dalton left for the wedding over three hours ago. From our earlier conversation, I was under the impression that it was more of a show your face and then sneak out kind of event, but I guess not since he’s still there.
I hate my girly emotions. They make me feel weak and I hate feeling that way. Another two hours pass when a loud show comes on, waking me up. Glancing at the time, it’s just past ten. I turn off the TV and sit up. Maybe I should call a friend and go out, but it’s still early for the L.A. nightlife scene. I decide to text Dalton. Going to bed. I’m irritated and I don’t care if he knows it.
I head upstairs to the bedroom and am about to crawl under the covers but I’m too awake to lie around, I text Tracy instead. Want to grab a drink?
She responds quickly. Can’t. I’m at dinner with the future In-Laws. This week sometime?
I type, I’m game. I have lots of friends, but I’m not in the high-energy mode I’d need to be with the single ones. And most of my other girlfriends don’t do anything without their significant others and I don’t want to feel depressed that my significant other is partying without me.
I grab my e-reader from the nightstand and head out onto the patio with a warm, fuzzy blanket. After curling up in a chair, I start to read a book I’ve been wanting to for ages but haven’t had the chance.
“Whatcha readin’?”
Following the voice, my gaze lands on Danny over on his patio. With his off-kilter smile in effect, he seems to be up to no good. “A romance,” I say, laughing, sort of embarrassed I’ve been busted reading a bodice ripper.
“Nice,” he says, nodding. “Is it a dirty romance?”
“Yeah.”
“Very nice.” He leans his elbows on the ledge in front of him, and asks, “So why are you sitting home on a Saturday night reading dirty romances?”
“No better offer, I guess.”
“I’m offering.” He nods toward the street. “Let’s go get a drink. We can walk down to the Mexican restaurant up the block.”
“I didn’t take you for a margarita man.”
He laughs, and once again, I see why the ladies are so attracted to him. He’s very handsome, unshaven tonight, and his hair is a little unruly, but in a way that some might call sexy. Okay, I’d call it sexy, too. He says, “I’ll have beer and leave the margaritas to you. C’mon, let’s go.”
“I’m not dressed to go out.”
“You’re dressed enough to hang out at a local restaurant with a neighbor.”
Looking down at my jeans and T-shirt, I figure he’s right. “Good point. I’ll meet you out front in five.” I go inside and brush my hair and my teeth, don’t bother with any makeup and then put on my shoes.
Danny is outside waiting when I come out. After locking the door, I shove my key, my phone, and my credit card into my pockets and we walk up the street.
The neighborhood is quiet and I like that normally, but it seems to be adding an awkward tension now. “I did have an offer earlier, but I turned it down.”
He smiles. “I was surprised when you said you hadn’t. I don’t see you sitting at home much. You’re too pretty for that.”
I put on a big goofy smile. “Eh, not just a pretty face here.”
Laughing, he replies, “Yeah.” Turning back, he looks ahead as we walk, the restaurant coming into view. “I left out funny and smart too, but those traits shouldn’t be discounted.”
“Awwww,” I say, bumping him with my arm. “Thanks. Just for that, first round is on me.”
“Awesome. I should pay you compliments more often.”
We’re seated in a booth by the front window. I like this spot because I can people watch. Queso comes when our drinks arrive and we dig in while picking up where we left off in the earlier conversation. He asks, “Why’d you turn down your other offer?”
“I didn’t want to attend a wedding.”
“I thought girls loved weddings.”
I sip my drink before responding, “I do, I confess, but this one… I didn’t have any interest in. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Okay, I’ll change the topic. How’s business?”
When I burst out laughing, I have to put my hand over my mouth to keep from spewing my drink everywhere. When I finally swallow it down, I say, “Wow, we went from personal to business just like that.”
He shrugs. “That’s what you wanted and I’m happy to see the smile again.”
“Thanks. Hey, and I’m sorry I’m being so vague.”
“It’s no big deal. You seem to like your privacy. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just find it odd that you’re either completely gone from your place or sitting alone on a Saturday night. I’m not judging. I’m also alone on a Saturday night and glad we could get together. You actually saved me from some bad reality show marathons I’ve been lost in for two days. It’s good to be around people again.” I watch as he takes a drink, then he asks, “So since I’m a nosy bastard, tell me, what’s your story, Holli? You said you’re dating someone, but here you are with me.”
“I can have friends, you know. Anyway, he’s the one who went to the wedding. It’s his ex-girlfriend’s and it’s complicated. I just didn’t want to put myself in an awkward situation.”
“So let me get this straight. Your boyfriend went to his ex’s wedding tonight instead of spending time with his girlfriend?”
“Well when you put it like that it doesn’t sound very good.”
He leans back, his fingers on the cold beer in front of him. “Is there a good angle I’m missing?”
“I can’t seem to find one.” I take another drink, then reach for a chip and dip it. When I’m bringing it to my mouth the queso drips, and lands on my left breast. “Damn it!”
I hear Danny chuckle. “Need help with that?”
My eyes flash up to his, and I smile as I wipe the spot on my T-shirt. “I think I can handle it. Thanks though,” I reply sarcastically.
“Anytime.”
“So why don’t you have a girlfriend, Danny? A single, good-looking, and successful man in L.A. isn’t usually lacking for opportunity.”
“I have plenty of opportunities. I guess I just don’t find them that appealing.”
“You like the chase, huh? Why does this not surprise me?”
Resting his hands on the table, he says, “I think you’re probably very hard to surprise. You have a cynical side.”
His words take me aback, the reality of them hitting me hard. I pause in thought, wondering when I started doubting the good. “Wow, you might be right. When did I become cynical?” He remains silent as I work through my own dating past while staring out the window at a couple passing by. “I’ve been burned and it sucked, but I thought things were changing. I thought I was changing.” My eyes meet his again. “Those guys were jerks. None of them made a real effort in the relationship. Am I just repeating the cycle? Maybe it’s time I start making demands of my own.”
“Sounds like you deserve more than you’re getting.”
After downing the remains of my drink, I set my credit card down on the table. “I need to go.”
“I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to.”
“You didn’t. I just need to clear up some stuff.”
“Sounds like you’re on a mission—revenge?”
“No. Nothing dramatic. Just need to talk to someone.” The waitress takes my card and disappears into the back.
“So that’s all it takes to get you motivated, a little queso and a margarita?”
Shrugging, I say, “I’m easy like that.”
When the waitress returns, she sets the bill on the table and Danny holds his glass up, and says, “I like easy.”
“Ha ha. I just bet you do.” I sign the check and we walk back outside. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you avoided the girlfriend question.”
“I thought we talked about this before.”
“I like seeing you squirm under the intense interrogation.”
He playfully nudges me. “If this is your version of intense, bring it on anytime.”
“Thanks for the drinks.”
“You bought the booze, not me,” he says.
“When I said drinks, I really meant the motivational speech and the company.”
“Then you’re welcome… for the drinks.”
We stop between our doors, and for a short moment, it feels like the end of a date. He runs his hand through his hair and says, “This was fun.”
“Yeah, it was.” I look down, then back again. “I guess I should go inside.”
“Thought you were going to bed?”
Danny and I turn at the same time.
Dalton’s standing on the sidewalk—chin lowered, his chest heavy with each breath he takes, hands squeezing and releasing again and again. “Guess when you texted you were going to bed, you actually meant fucking this asshole.”
“Dalton?” His anger is palpable as I walk slowly toward him. “You didn’t text at all.”
“Holli?” Danny says from behind me. “Everything alright?”
With my eyes focused on Dalton, I reply to Danny, “It’s okay.”
“Actually, it’s not fucking okay, Holliday.” I can smell whiskey on Dalton’s breath. “What the fuck is going on? Did you go on a date with him? Is that what this is? A date?”
I put my hands out slowly. “He’s a friend. We had drinks.”
“Holli, I think—”
Danny is interrupted when Dalton’s arm flies up, pointing at Danny. “Nobody gives a fuck what you think.”
“Calm down, Dalton. This looks bad,” I say, “but it’s not.”
He reaches to touch me, but drops his hand to his side instead. Shaking his head defeated, he says, “To think, I thought you were different.”
“You’re drunk, please don’t do this. Nothing is going on here.” I step closer, but he steps back.
Danny asks, “Holli?”
Dalton rushes forward, jumping the four lower steps and slamming Danny against the house. “Stay the fuck away from what’s mine!”
“Dalton!” I yell, running to try and break up the fight before it escalates any further.
“Keep your hands off me!” Danny shoves him hard enough to send Dalton stumbling back onto my steps.
He jumps to his feet and warns, “I’m gonna kick your fucking ass, motherfucker.”
Turning my back to Danny, my palms go flat against Dalton’s chest as he pushes forward. “Stop, Dalton!”
Staring down at me in disbelief, Dalton asks, “You’re defending him?” He backs up like he’s been hit, glaring at Danny, then back at me. After a hard look and tortuous few seconds, he says, “Fuck this,” and walks away.
I go after him as Danny calls, “He’s drunk, Holli. Talk to him when he’s sober.”
Ignoring Danny’s advice, I don’t stop until I reach Dalton. He turns, and with a nod of his head, Dalton says, “Go back to your boyfriend.”
“Dalton, listen to me.”
He lights a cigarette while glaring at me.
“He’s just—” I start but he interrupts.
“He’s what, Holliday? Who the fuck is he to you?” When I don’t respond quick enough, he says, “This is why I don’t do fucking relationships.”
The ash glows bright orange and he walks away, leaving me in a trail of smoke and haze. I stand there watching as he gets in the car and revs the engine. After one glance back, he peels out, the rubber squealing loudly against the pavement. I remain there until I can no longer see the tail-lights. When I turn, Danny is still on the stoop, waiting for me.
I pull my key from my pocket and walk back, feeling dizzy from all the crazy and embarrassed in front of Danny.
“Was that Johnny Outlaw?” he asks just as I approach.
With a heavy sigh, I say, “Yes, that was Johnny Outlaw.” Not Jack Dalton. I walk past Danny and unlock the front door. “Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Are you okay?”
“No.” I push the door open and step up. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“If you need to talk…”
“Thanks.” Just before shutting the door, I say, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
I hurry upstairs and change into my pajamas. When I climb into bed, I lay in the dark somewhere between angry and hurt. I’m still shocked by how we went from happy earlier today to Dalton accusing me of cheating tonight. I know how it must have looked. What he said to me… I realize him thinking I would cheat hurts deeper than his words. I roll over and snuggle my pillow closer—the one he uses—wanting to cry. But as his words repeat in my head, the anger comes back. I close my eyes and try to sleep, trying to forget this happened.
My phone rings, startling me awake. I grab it from the mattress beside me and see his name.
“Dalton?”
His words are slurred, his voice deep. He only says three words. But those three words are all it takes for me to forget everything that happened earlier. “I need you.”