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“No—he’s my clone. Bought one of those self-cloning kits off Amazon.” I say before Conner has the chance, and the blonde’s face crumples slightly like she’s trying to figure out if I’m joking or not—my guess is she’s not attending college on an academic scholarship.
Before she can ask, Conner reaches into his pocket, pulling out a wad of bills, peeling several off. “How about you go pay our tab so we can get out of here,” He drops the money into the redhead’s open hand with a grin. “Go back to your place.” Conner never takes them home.
“Are you coming too?” Suddenly the blonde sitting next to me is practically in my lap, her hand wrapped around the inside of my thigh.
I maneuver myself away from her, sliding out of the booth so she can join her friends. “Maybe I’ll try to swing by later,” I say, holding out a hand to help her up and she pouts prettily at my answer.
“Try hard,” she says, trailing her fingertip over my shoulder as she wandered toward the bar with her friends.
As soon as they’re gone, I turn on Conner again. “What did you do—” I advance on him, cocking my head. “and don’t tell me nothing.”
“I may have call her and told her you fell down the stairs to your apartment.” He says it fast, like he’s ripping off a bandage.
“Are you for real?” I don’t know if I want to laugh or choke the shit out of him.
Conner shrugged. “Look—that girl has been leading you around by your balls for years and since you let her move in, it’s been fucking unbearable to watch. I had to do something.”
“So, you decide to Parent Trap us?” I say it like I’m mad but I’m not—not really. How can I be? Conner interfered but considering my face had been buried between Cari’s legs less than an hour ago, I’m having a hard time being angry.
“I sure the fuck did,” he says, without an ounce of remorse. “You two have been dancing around each other for so long I was starting to get dizzy.”
“How’d you even know it’d work?” I say, shaking my head.
“Are you kidding me?” he says, looking at me like I’m a mentally-challenged toddler. “Let me let you in on a little secret—men and women: not so different as they would like us to believe. They want what they can’t have, the same as we do.”
“I don’t know... she was pissed. Still is,” I say, thinking for the first time that maybe this wasn’t what I wanted—it certainly wasn’t how I’d wanted it. “She’s moving out.”
Now Conner smirked. “She say that before or after you fucked her?”
I glare and he laughs, shaking his head.
“You want her to move out?” he says, laughing again as soon as he finishes the question. The look on my face must’ve answered his question just fine. “Okay. Do you love her or is it just about the sex?”
Love or sex? For Conner it’d never been an issue—love never factors into the equation. The only thing he loves is sex.
I look behind me to find all three girls waiting for him by the front door, ready to go. “Your groupies are waiting,” I say, avoiding the question.
He shrugs, a cocky half-smile resting comfortably on his face. “They’re not going anywhere.”
I’ve been lusting after Cari for so long, maybe I’ve confused the two. Maybe I don’t know what I want anymore. All I know is that as hurt and angry as I am, I can still taste her. Still smell her and I not ready to walk away from that... but she’s been playing me for months—hell, years.
It’s time to give her a taste of her own medicine.
“I don’t know, cousin...” I say, signaling Lisa to bring me a beer. “But we’re gonna find out.”
Twenty-two
Cari
What the hell justhappened?
He left me here. Walked out the front door while I brace myself against the wall, naked and slightly dizzy from the absolute best fuck of my life. I can’t follow him, even if I wanted to. I’m pretty sure my knees would buckle before I took my first step.
Waiting until my breathing returned to normal, I brace a hand against the wall while reaching down with the other to pull off one heel and then the other. Flat on the ground again, I feel a little bit better.
I don’t know what to do. The rash, impulsive me wants to throw on some clothes and charge downstairs. Hound him until he listens to reason. Until he lets me explain. The rational, prudent me—the me I should’ve been listening to all along—is telling me to let him go. He’s angry and he has every right to be. Just give him some space. Let him cool off.
Is that what I am to you, Cari? A joke?