Page 4 of Badd Love
My memory of that night was crystal clear. After Duncan and Rune had gone upstairs to Rune's room to talk, Lindsey and I, having spent the better part of the day flirting, had gone to dinner together. Dinner had led to drinks at a bar near her apartment in West Hollywood, and drinks had led to us going to her apartment.
The sex, according to my memory, had been goddamn spectacular. I know for a fact that she'd had at least one orgasm—unless she was faking it, but she'd need to be an Oscar-winning actress for that to have been faked. Ifelther pussy spasming while I was inside her, for fuck's sake. I don't know how you can fake that.
We'd passed out together. Woke up. Pillow talk about nothing in particular. And then I'd gone down on her. Eagerly. For a very, very long time. And skillfully, I like to think. I certainly have never had any complaints. And again—unless she was a world-class actress, she hadn't faked the orgasms I'd given her.
Once she'd recovered, she started returning the favor. Now, admittedly, we'd had a good bit to drink, and I was a bit hazy from that and having just woken up in the middle of the night. But I definitely don't remember doing or saying anything that could be construed as pressuring her to doanything. I wouldn't. I may be a horny jackass and bona fide hookup artist, but I'dnever pressure a girl to do anything. Lindsey had gone down on me of her own free will.
And then, after I came—and I gave her plenty of warning beforehand so she could choose how to let me finish—she freaked the fuck out. Rolled away from me, hyperventilating, locked herself in her bathroom, and screamed at me to get the fuck out.
I remember being confused as hell. Like, what just happened? Did I do something? I've scoured my memory of that night obsessively, and I can't think of anything. I hadn't held her head down, hadn't forced her down or anything like that, and I gave her lots of lead time before I let go. I hadn't begged or demanded or insisted or cajoled. The second I'd finished making her come, she'd seemingly eagerly moved to suck me off. Great, I love it. But if she had some sort of an issue with it, I'dneverhave let that happen.
In the words of a somewhat overrated hero, I may be an asshole, but I'm not a hundred percent a dick.
With no other option, since she just kept screeching for me to get the fuck out, I'd gotten dressed and left, going back to the hotel Duncan and I were sharing.
She’d refused to speak to me since. She blocked my number. Didn't answer texts, didn't return voicemails. I even talked to Rune about it privately—without explaining what happened, just asking her to have Lindsey get ahold of me—and had been told that Lindsey wasn't talking to her about me either.
She'd shut everyone out when it came to me.
Which made me think that whatever had happened in her head wasn’t about me.
But it just doesn't seem fair that I get punished for it.
Fuck, I'm thinking about it again.
I took a fresh bottle of beer through the kitchen, pressing the dewy, icy-cold bottle to my sweating forehead and cheeks. I'dlong since lost my suit coat and tie, had my sleeves rolled up, and my shirt undone so my tank top peeked through the gap of my open shirt.
I emerged in the alley behind the kitchen, taking a long slug of beer. Which, honestly, should have been water, considering I was pretty tipsy. But fuck it. Your brother only gets married once.
I hope.
I leaned against the brick wall next to the door and held the bottle against my cheek, trying to quiet the chaos in my mind.
I'm ADHD, so that's a losing game, but right now, the crazed squirrel on a treadmill that is my brain is going a little haywire, and I needed a moment alone in the silence to bring down the noise in my head.
Which is when I heard it.
A sniffle.
A shuddery sob.
And damn me, but I recognized the voice, somehow.
I looked left and saw Lindsey in her baby blue bridesmaid dress, leaning against the wall a few feet away, head tipped back, weeping.
Fuck.
“Um, hey," I said. “Uh, you…you good, Lindsey?"
She snorted. “Yeah, Dane. I'm peachy. I'm out here bawling my eyes out for fucking fun."
"Jesus, dude, I was trying to be nice. Fuckin' shoot me for having the teensiest bit of compassion, even though you won't fucking tell me what the fuck I did wrong."
"NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU!" She shrieked and collapsed to her hands and knees.
Stunned by the outburst, I stood frozen for a moment and then went over to her and knelt beside her, recognizing an emotional breakdown when I saw one.
"Hey, whoa, Linz. Take a deep breath, okay?"
