Page 49 of Double or Nothing

“I don’t expect you to be a therapist, Jack. We came here for fun, remember? Champagne, and laughs, and casual. You don’t have to give a shit. It’s ok.”

He sighs.

“Do you really think I’m that much of an asshole? Honestly?”

“I don’t think emotional baggage is your kind of bag somehow.”

He raises his eyebrows, tips my chin up.

“That’s flattering. At least I made it past a flat-out no.”

“I mean you have a great dick, it’s just…” My humour trails off. The stab of pain returns, right in my stomach. “This stuff is deep. It’s old. You don’t need to give me any there, theres and talk through my life issues.”

“No, I don’t,” he says. “But try me, hey?”

My eyes dig into his, trying to work out where he’s coming from.

“Why would you want to?”

He shrugs. “Call it curiosity.”

He’s being serious, I can see it. I can feel it.

“Curiosity killed the cat, remember?” I say.

“As long as it doesn’t kill the pussy.” He takes off his dressing gown, hands it to me. “No need to be shy, either. I saw deep inside your asshole last night, remember?”

I take it from him and wrap myself up. I can’t help noticing his toned body, and the healthy huge dick that he’s sporting.

He takes my hand. “Let’s get that coffee. Settle you down a little.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the bizarre sympathy. It’s a strange mixture.

“Go get your it’s complicated script in order,” he says. “I’ll grab a robe from the bathroom.”

I watch his fine ass as he leaves the room, then head over to the kitchen counter. He’s right. Bryce must have been in a real fluster when he left. He’d never have left so many empty glasses around the place.

I switch on the coffee machine and busy myself by gathering up some of last night’s debris. We sure downed a lot of De Chante between us. And fuck me, Bryce almost emptied the rum bottle. He must be in a right state.

Jack’s hair is less dishevelled when he returns from the bathroom, wrapped up in a pale blue bathrobe. He grabs some mugs from a cupboard overhead and I focus on him while he pours the coffee, wondering where the hell to start with the tale of catastrophe.

“Milk?” he asks. “Sugar?”

“No. Neither, thanks.”

“A girl after my own heart.” He shoots me a sly glance. “My dick is a safer option, though.”

I take the coffee from him, with a thank you, putting it down to cool on the counter.

“I don’t know where to begin,” I say. “I was young. I fucked up. He disappeared.” I pause. “And now we’re older. I fucked up again. He disappeared, again.”

Jack’s eyes are so fixed on mine, it feels like he’s poking around my soul. I hate the way my tears pool as he stares at me.

“He’ll be back, you know,” he says.

I laugh as the tears roll down my cheeks, my walls breaking down.

“You reckon? Sure he will. Yeah.”