Chapter One
Lennon
“You, my friend, need to get laid.”
I drag my eyes away from Stacy long enough to glare at Rick as he slides down into the seat next to me. He stumbles forward, almost teetering off the chair as he leers at me. I shake my head and groan. He’s so drunk he can barely string his words together, but apparently that doesn’t stop him from wanting to poke his nose into my business.
“Yeah?” I retort. “Is your sister free?”
Max and Chris snigger from across the table, and while Rick struggles to come up with a half decent comeback, I go back to staring at Stacy. I’m just in time to see her tongue-fucking the asshole she’s calling her new boyfriend.
Eight years we were together, and she suddenly decides we’re not right for each other. To say I was gutted would be an understatement. She was my high school sweetheart, and the only girl I had eyes for right through college. I thought we’d end up married with a few kids and a dog, but she had other ideas.
Then I found out she’d been sleeping with her course advisor for the last six months we were together. That’s what hurt the most. If you’re over us, fine, but at least have the decency to break up with me before you start letting some other guy stick his dick in you.
“He has a point,” Max says. I glare at him, and he winces. If I thought anyone would be on my side about this, it would be Max, since he went through a similar experience last year. He nods in Stacy’s direction. “I mean, does it look like she’s still pining over you?” he asks.
No, it doesn’t. “That’s not the point,” I mutter. “I just can’t get over the fact she cheated on me. I can’t forget eight years, just like that.”
“We’re not saying you have to find some chick and marry her,” Rick laughs.
He brushes his blond, curly hair away from his eyes and smiles at a passing group of girls. They giggle and whisper while glancing back at him, and I roll my eyes. He eventually turns his attention back to me when they’re gone from his sight.
“Dude, we’re at a wedding, for fuck’s sake. Just find some random piece of ass, say a few nice words to her, then take her back to your hotel room and bang the life out of her. By morning you’ll be saying Stacy who?”
“Unless you have really bad luck and choose another Stacy,” Chris pipes up.
I can’t help but laugh at the both of them, particularly Rick. Sober Rick says whatever he likes, but drunk Rick is a thousand times more crass.
“I mean,” he continues, slurring his words, “isn’t it a rite of passage for the best man to bone one of the bridesmaids?” he asks. “Like, you’re seriously letting the team down, man. Get out there and rep-re-sent,” he whoops.
“Okay, Casey’s bridesmaids are her married older sister, her ten-year-old niece, and her gay brother,” I growl. “Which one do you propose I try to bone first?”
“Fine, so pick someone else,” he sighs. He shakes his head, frustrated, like I’m completely missing his point. “What would Gary say if he knew you were sitting here pining over her instead of choosing some of the talent he hand-picked especially for you to choose from?”
“Hand-picked?” I laugh and rub my forehead as I gaze around the room.
I glance over at Gary and study him for a moment. A pang of jealousy hits me. He has his arms wrapped around his new wife and he’s smiling as he looks deeply into her eyes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for them. Casey’s a great chick, even if she is high maintenance, and she treats Gary well. That’s all I can ask for my best friend, but this is what I thought I’d have one day with Stacy.
The four of us have been friends since elementary school. These days, we’re a bit of a mixed bunch, which means sometimes our personalities clash—almost always involving Rick—but at the end of the day we’re still close enough to tell each other anything.
The guys were the first people I called when I found out Stacy was cheating on me. Gary full on almost ended his engagement with the arguments that followed between himself and Casey over whether to invite Stacy to the wedding. But in the end, I said I didn’t care. Stacy and Casey were close friends, and I figured we were adult enough to put aside our differences for one night and celebrate the marriage of our best friends. Of course, that was before she decided to bring Fuckface as her plus one.
I lean back in my chair with my arms crossed and sigh. God, I don’t know anymore. Maybe the guys are right. Maybe I do need to just move on. Pick some chick to sleep with and get Stacy out of my mind, even if it’s just for a few hours. Maybe this is the perfect opportunity for me to move on.
I scan the room, weighing my options. It’s late, nearly ten, so most of the singles have either already hooked up, or are too off their faces to consent to anything. The last thing I need is a lawsuit on my hands, because that would go down great with my new job.
Six years of college to get my Master’s degree and I’ve just landed my first solo teaching gig. It’s only for one semester as I’m filling in for someone who is away on maternity leave, but it’s a start. Oddly enough, I always wanted to teach, ever since I was a child and I’d try and organize all the other kids and boss them around. The passion never really left, so it was a logical choice when it came to choosing my major in college. I chose high school, because younger children more than slightly terrify me. And how hard could it be to teach a class full of teenagers? I’m sure I won’t regret those words.
Teaching was another thing Stacy hated about me. She thought I was selling myself short. She thought I had more potential than just being a teacher. She tried to convince me to go into medicine like nearly everyone in her family, and for a moment there I almost considered it. But if I’m going to be stuck in a job for the next fifty or sixty years, it better damn well be something I enjoy doing.
I glance back at Rick and realize he’s still talking to me. I’d blocked him out after his first sentence. The guys are still sniggering, so whatever he’s saying is either offensive or downright rude, which means I’m probably not missing much.
Rolling my eyes, I get off my chair and stalk across the room in the direction of the bar. I’ve been pretty good tonight. I took my best man duties very seriously and waited until the speeches were over before I even touched a drink.
To be honest, I was honored when Gary asked me to be his best man. It would’ve been hard, having four best friends to choose one to stand above the others. I reveled in the responsibilities of helping them plan their wedding in the wake of the disaster that was Stacy. Just having something to take my mind off my life really helped. I think that was his plan all along.
As I near the bar, a girl catches my attention. She’s gorgeous, with a long mop of dark hair that’s been loosely twisted into a bun, and bright blue eyes that just scream trouble. At a guess, I’d say she’s in her late teens, maybe eighteen or nineteen. I’m twenty-five, and I figure she’s probably too young for me, but I’m drawn to her all the same. What I find most intriguing about her is that she’s scoping the room like she’s about to commit the crime of the century.
I stand back, my arms crossed over my chest, and just watch her, both amused and curious about what she’s planning to do. When she’s confident no one is looking, she lifts herself up onto the bar and reaches over to retrieve a bottle of beer. She quickly tucks it up under the bottom of her skirt and walks toward the door. I snort. God knows what’s holding that beer in place.
I follow her to the exit and walk outside, keeping a safe distance between us. A shiver races through me. Even though it’s the middle of winter, I wasn’t expecting it to be so damn cold. I glance back, wishing I hadn’t forgotten my jacket which is still hanging over the back of my chair.
I look around the parking lot, trying to spot my mystery girl, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I’m about to give up when I notice the light in the wedding car is on. With a bemused smile, I shove my hands in my pockets and walk in that direction. The only people with keys to the Porsche are Gary and I—and only me because I was the one who rented it.
Knowing how obsessed Gary is with Porsches, I went out of my way to find a Carrera 911 in mint condition for them to travel to the airport in. It cost me a dime, but it will be worth it when he comes outside and sees that pretty little thing sitting in the driveway. I’d given him the keys when we arrived at the reception center, but refused to tell him what sort of car I’d rented.
As I near the Porsche, I see her sitting behind the wheel, seat wound back and eyes closed, bobbing her head in time to the music that’s blaring from the speakers as she drinks her beer. I tap gently on the window, unable to wipe the smirk off my face. She jumps, her eyes widening as they spring open. She mutters what I’m sure are a few curse words, before winding down the window.
“Holy shit, you scared the fuck out of me!” she gasps, her hand on her chest. “Do you always sneak up on unsuspecting girls who are minding their own business?”
“Only those in the habit of stealing cars.” I smirk, leaning against the door frame. I nod at the beer she’s upturning onto the ground. “Are you even old enough to drink?”
“Stealing?” she laughs with a snort. “Since when is it a crime to sit in an unlocked vehicle?”
I make a face. “Yeah, sorry, but I’m pretty sure if I called the cops and told them you stole my car, they’d be charging you with attempting to steal my car.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. This window is going back up in five seconds, so either get in or go away.”
I hesitate for half a second and then decide, what the hell. Maybe this will lead somewhere, though I’m not entirely sure this girl has her head screwed on completely right. I jog around to the passenger side, slamming the door once I’m safely in the car.
“Shit, it’s cold out there,” I mutter, shivering.
She laughs and gestures to her short, sleeveless dress. “You’re complaining? Dude, look at me.”
I shrug, pretending I have no sympathy for her. “Anyone who makes a conscious decision to wear a sleeveless dress on a day like this deserves to catch a cold.”
“You’re heartless. I love it,” she grins, her blue eyes sparkling. She taps her fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing on the radio.
I glance at the radio and frown. “Hey, how did you get that going?”
She grins. “Will you call the cops if I tell you I hotwired it?”
“Jesus, you’re insane,” I mutter, but I can’t help but laugh.
“No, I just love this car,” she defends herself. “I saw it sitting here, all alone, and I couldn’t resist.”
I look at her suspiciously, not sure if she’s being serious. “You’re a Porsche fan?”
“Not just any Porsche. A Carrera fan. You look surprised,” she laughs. I get the feeling she surprises people often.
“I am, I guess. You look a bit…” Words fail me as I try not to offend her. I would’ve thought this car was a bit before her time.
“A bit what?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.
“Young?” I offer. I’m hoping to learn that she’s at least legal before this goes any further.
She shrugs. “I’m eighteen. I grew up around cars. My father and both my brothers are mechanics and heavily into racing. This car is my jam,” she announces, thumping her hand down on the wheel again. “Ask me anything about it, and I’ll answer.”
“Anything?” I repeat, trying to come up with the most obscure and offbeat question I can think of.
“Hey, let’s make this interesting,” she says, a smile slowly spreading across her lips. “You ask me a question and if I answer it correctly, we take this baby out for a drive. Deal?”
“No. No deal,” I chuckle. “No fucking way.”
“Why not? Scared you’ll lose?” she says in such a way that it gets under my skin. I’m nothing if not competitive.
“No, I’m just not about to ruin my best friend’s wedding—”
“Go tell someone who cares,” she says, waving me off, a scowl on her face. “Either grow a pair, or get out and leave me in peace.”
I grin, not ready to leave her just yet. I love how feisty she is. A question pops into my head that I know she’s not going to be able to answer. It’s a win-win; she loses, I win, and the car stays safely out of her hands. What can go wrong?
“What year did Porsche have its first win in a 911T?”
“Pfft,” she scoffs. “Easy. 1954.” Her eyes gleam while my own widen. I was sure that would stump her. Who willingly knows shit like that?
“How the hell did you know that?” I grumble, shaking my head in amazement. This girl is incredible.
“I told you, this car is my jam,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Now, are you driving, or am I?”