Page 22 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Javi

Eight Years and Five Months Before the Wedding

This party isn’t as unpleasant as I assumed it would be. So far, the only con is that the two white guys ahead of me in line won’t shut up.

“How’s Civ Pro treating you?” one of them asks the other.

“Durbin’s a prick. He’s spending all of his time talking about substantive due process. I couldn’t give a fuck. When are we going to actually open up the federal rules of civil procedure?”

“Yeah, I hear ya. He’s known for focusing on a bunch of bullshit we’ll never use in real life.”

“It’s tiring. I wish I could…”

Noticing that something (or someone) has caught his friend’s attention, the second guy, the shorter of the two, follows the first guy’s gaze. “Ah, you spotted Marisol.”

Well, now my eyes are laser-focused, and my ears are in stealth mode.

“Damn, every time I see her I get tongue-tied,” the tall guy says. “I don’t know what it is about her, but that woman is messing with my head.”

“She’s the whole package, that’s why. Smart, gorgeous, has a dad who could give you a summer internship.” They both chuckle; I take mental notes to be shared with Mari later.

“Man, I tried to talk to her once,” the short guy continues, “and she shot me down in seconds, so if she’s giving you the time of day, take it. Just know that whoever bags her is going to have to be on point. A woman like that is not entertaining scrubs.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the tall guy says, licking his lips. “I think I can meet that bar. But I’m also not averse to a onetime hookup—”

“Excuse me,” I say.

The short guy spins around. “Yeah?”

I point at the bartender, who’s patiently waiting for these two knuckleheads to move up. “It’s your turn.”

“Oh, sure. Thanks.”

Seconds later, an arm slips through mine.

“Took you long enough,” I say.

“Oh, you were waiting for me?” asks a velvety voice that doesn’t belong to Mari.

I turn and see that the person whose arm is linked with mine is Rielle. “Sorry, I thought you were Marisol.”

“I hope you’re not disappointed,” she says, smiling coyly.

“No, no, just surprised.”

She leans in close and says, “I’m hosting so I need to make the rounds, but I’d like to get to know you better before the night is over.”

“Sure, sure,” I say, my throat garbled. “I’ll be around.”

“I’ll look for you later,” she says with a wink.

“Sounds good,” I say with no enthusiasm. Because one, I’m not playing in Mari’s playground; that would be inconsiderate as hell. And two, Rielle does nothing for me. No spark, no thump in the chest, no tingle down my spine.

I finally order a club soda for myself and a glass of chardonnay for Mari. And this time, when an arm links through mine, I know it’s her.

She relieves me of the wine, takes a sip, and makes a face of disgust. “Thanks, but I’m definitely passing on that.” After setting the glass on a high-top table nearby, she asks, “Doing okay so far?”

“I’m fine. Was working intel on the bar line.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, do tell.”

I point at the guys who were ahead of me, both of whom are now lurking in a corner. “The tall one over there has a crush on you.”

She looks over at them and wrinkles her nose. “Ugh, Nelson’s the tall one. Brad’s his lackey. They’re both insufferable. Pass.” She studies me for a moment, then mutters something to herself before saying, “And just a heads-up: Rielle wants to get to know you better.”

“She suggested as much a minute ago.”

“Any interest?” Mari asks carefully.

“None whatsoever.”

“Well, Rielle’s staring at you as we speak, so you might want to figure out how you’re going to handle it.”

My gaze travels past Mari to those two guys in the corner, one of whom seems poised to walk over here. “Well, don’t look now, but I think the guy who has a crush on you is about to make his move.”

“Oh no,” Mari says, fake terror in her eyes. “Help me.”

I scan the room, noticing that the billiards table is free. “Let’s play pool. It’ll give you an excuse not to talk to him and keep Rielle at bay. Two birds, one stone.”

“But I don’t know how,” she whines, her mouth curved in an adorable frown.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

I drag Mari across the room and grab two sticks off a stand-alone cue stick wall. Mari listens intently as I go over the basics.

“How do I shoot?” she asks.

“Okay, let me show you the open bridge.” I gesture ahead of me. “Get in front and I’ll guide you.”

Mari takes her cue stick, which is significantly shorter than mine, and leans over the table. I do not look at her ass in the snug jeans she’s wearing, though I’m tempted to.

“Now what?” she says over her shoulder.

“Okay, set your hand on the table and spread your fingers apart. Then place the cue stick in the V between your thumb and index finger.”

“Sounds…dirty.”

“Behave.”

“Okay, okay. Like this?” she asks, trying to get the placement correct.

“Not quite,” I say. “Here.”

I lean over, the front of my thighs resting against her backside, and spread her fingers apart, positioning the cue stick behind the ball.

It’s a big mistake. I know it. She knows it. The whole fucking world knows it.

Because being this close to Mari does something to me—to us—that I don’t think we can ever undo.

She feels…perfect. Curvy, strong, warm. And the vanilla scent she always wears surrounds us like a cage, trapping me in a lust-induced daze and throwing me even more off balance.

I picture myself lifting her top and trailing kisses along her spine.

I imagine her body laid out on the table, my face between her legs. I—

“Now what?” she says softly.

What the hell, brain? Focus. We’re playing pool.

I clear my throat and back away. Then, with my hands fisted at my sides, I inhale a huge breath and exhale. “Guide the stick back and forth along the V, then glide it forward quickly.”

“Wow, that sounds really dirty,” she says on a laugh.

I ignore the joke. I have to. Because I’m barely holding myself together as it is. “Shoot, Mari.”

And she does. Very well. The seven ball smacks into the corner pocket and drops with a satisfying thud.

Mari jumps up and down. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“She’s a natural,” the tall guy from before—Nelson?—says as he sidles up to us.

I give him a curt nod. “That she is.”

“Enough talking, sir,” Mari says to me. “Now that I’ve figured out the mechanics of this game, there will be no stalling.”

Nelson hovers, edging closer to the table as Mari and I continue to practice.

We pretend to ignore him, though we’re both aware of his presence.

Mari keeps brushing against my side, her body never more than a few inches away from mine.

I know why she’s sticking close to me, but it’s wreaking havoc on my psyche too. Nelson needs to go.

After one particularly brilliant shot on Mari’s part, he tries to high-five her, but she sidesteps him. This guy can’t take a hint to save his life.

When she passes me on my left, she whispers, “He’s just going to hang around waiting for an opening.”

“Don’t give him one,” I whisper back.

“How do I manage that?”

I take the pool stick from her and rest it against the couch behind us. “Do you trust me?”

She draws back and studies my face, her brow pinched in confusion. “Of course I do.”

“Then follow my lead.”

Before I can fully think through my plan, I’m lifting Mari onto the edge of the pool table and stepping into the space between her thighs.

Mari looks up at me, her bottomless brown eyes round as saucers. “What are you doing?” she asks in a shaky voice.

“Making it clear that you’re unavailable.”

Her eyes flash with heat, and then she’s lifting her chin, her mouth open in anticipation.

My heart pounds as we close the distance between us; it gallops furiously when our lips finally meet.

I let Mari control the pace. Let her decide how we’re going to play this.

We’re tentative at first, our lips grazing then retreating.

But then the kiss switches gears, an unmistakable urgency to it, our tongues mingling possessively as if they’re meant to be knotted together.

Somewhere along the way, she grips my waist while my hands slide to her ass and pull her closer.

I’m not sure if it’s encouragement or pure pleasure, but she lets out a needy moan, and the sound sets my skin on fire.

As if I need a reminder that my solution to our problem has gone off the rails, my dick presses painfully against the fly of my zipper.

And there’s the spark I didn’t feel for Rielle. There’s the thump in my chest. There’s the tingle down my spine.

For Mari. My best friend.

And now I have to pretend that kiss was just a means to an end.

Fuck.

***

Mari’s over at the bar talking to a classmate. They’re standing close to each other as they chat, and the moment she throws her head back in laughter, the guy inches closer. I don’t blame him. I don’t blame her either. But damn, that kiss fried my brain; apparently it did nothing to hers.

I nurse a soda and watch a couple play pool.

Minutes later, Mari pops up at my side. “Sorry about that. I was trying to get away, but Jason’s a talker.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “Ready to go?”

She stares at me a beat too long, her sultry, black-rimmed eyes roving over my face.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she says, linking her arm with mine. “And sure, let’s get out of here.”

In the car, Mari queues up a playlist titled “Anthem.” The first track is “Girl on Fire” by Alicia Keys.

This boy’s on fire too—but for a very different reason.

“Your theme song?” I ask, trying to redirect my thoughts.

Her lips curve into a confident smile. “Exactly.”

“It’s perfect for you.”

“I’m glad you think so,” she says in an amused tone.

It’s also a timely reminder that Mari’s going places. She’s bound to do great things. Her smarts will open doors for her; her charm will ensure she gets a seat at the table. And she deserves it all.

Mari drums her fingers against the steering wheel and sways to the song’s rhythm. “So, I was thinking we could watch a movie tonight. Your choice. I’ll even try Citizen Kane again if you want.”

“You hate that movie.”

“I don’t hate it,” she says, glancing over at me. “I just wasn’t enamored enough to watch it until the end.”

Sadly, I can’t even remember the plot. I’m stuck on that fucking kiss. Did it even happen? Was it all a dream? Mari’s certainly acting as if I made that shit up in my head.

I say nothing, which I guess signals to her that she needs to convince me to spend more time with her.

“We can get into some comfortable clothes,” she says breezily. “And make popcorn. I promise not to snore when you try to convince me of Orson Welles’s genius.”

That sounds like the worst idea in the world. I’m not sitting next to Mari all night. She’d probably want to rest her head on my lap like she always did during movie nights at school. No, thank you.

I stretch in my seat and make a big production of yawning. “Honestly, Mari, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my eyes open. I’m drained. I think I’ll just head to bed.”

“Oh…okay. No problem.” She side-eyes me, then focuses on the view through the windshield. “Hey, are we good? I mean, about what happened back at the party. You’re not weirded out or anything, right?”

“Not at all, and yeah, we’re good.”

If we want to keep it that way, I’m going to follow her cue and erase it from my mind. Or try to, at least.

Good luck with that, Javi.

Monday, December 19, 2016, at 3:30 p.m.

Mari: thanks again for visiting me this weekend

sorry I had to run out so early

and sorry if some of it was a little too much for you

Javi: it wasn’t

always good to see you

Mari: I meant about the thing, at the party

Javi: let’s forget about it, okay

we did what we needed to do

we’re good

Mari: okay

Mari: but be real, my dad annoyed you

Javi: definitely

your dad’s not you, though

please remember that

Mari: true

anyway, I need to study

have a great week!

Javi: you too!

Sunday, January 1, 2017, at 12:01 p.m.

Mari: waited long enough for you to wake up

happy new year!

wishing you an amazing 2017!

Javi: lol, I’m out of a job

Mari: shit, I’m so sorry

Javi: not your fault

just need to regroup

Mari: want to talk about it

Javi: nope

Mari: pick up on FaceTime

Javi: I need some space

please

I’ll reach out when I’m ready

Mari: okay

just remember I’m here for you

Javi: thanks

you’re an amazing person

don’t worry about me I’ll be fine

Tuesday, January 10, 2017, at 4:17 p.m.

Mari: been calling you

are you ever going to pick up?

Saturday, January 28, 2017, at 3:12 p.m.

Mari: hey, was thinking of visiting you for my birthday

give me a ring when you can

Friday, February 17, 2017, at 1:12 a.m.

Mari: are you okay

what’s going on?

Saturday, February 25, 2017, at 8:34 p.m.

Mari: just saw your post on IG

good to know you’re okay

Monday, March 20, 2017, at 9:19 p.m.

Mari: thought you’d at least call for my birthday

Wednesday, March 22, 2017, at 2:24 a.m.

Mari: I know you’re getting my messages, I can see the read receipts

this is me giving you space

reach out when you’re ready