When Sparks Fly Page 4

  I hold out my hand. “I just need the keys and then you can get back to your friend.”

  He makes a face. One I don’t like. “My SUV isn’t here.”

  “What do you mean it’s not here?” I really don’t have time for this.

  “I left it downtown last night.”

  “Are you fucking serious?”

  “I wasn’t gonna drink and drive,” he mutters gruffly and motions to the pile of clothes on the floor behind him. “I can find the keys if you wanna Uber to it.”

  Downtown is in the opposite direction of where I’m headed, and stopping to get his SUV will take time I can’t afford to waste. “Never mind, I don’t have time to fuck around this morning, unlike you apparently. Thanks for being reliable. Super glad I can count on you when I need you, Deck.” I’m annoyed and frustrated, not because he doesn’t have the right to bring someone home, but because he put some random woman ahead of our friendship. It isn’t like him to bail on me. And I hate even more that I’m worried about making the trip on my own because of the weather. It makes me feel weak and incompetent.

  I turn away, and he grabs for my arm. “Ave, come on.”

  I twist out of his grip and stalk down the hall, calling out, “Dude, you smell like stale beer and used condoms. I hope she was worth it.”

  5

  SO UNRELIABLE

  AVERY

  “I don’t know why I’m so damn surprised!” I turn my windshield wipers up to full speed as a transport truck passes. The weather is crap, the rain makes visibility bad, and my tires are not in great shape. I needed to have them changed a month ago, but my schedule has been hectic, so this coming Tuesday was the soonest I could make it work.

  Now I’m stuck in the slow lane, behind what I’m presuming is an old guy based on the fact that it’s a gold Buick beast in front of me. Whoever is behind the wheel is going at least ten miles under the speed limit, and I can’t pass him until there’s a substantial break in the traffic.

  Not that I actually want to pass him at all. I have a very good reason for my dislike of driving in the rain. My parents were killed in a car accident during a horrible rainstorm when I was sixteen years old. My sisters and I had been staying overnight with our grandmother—as was typical—and we woke up the next morning to our grandmother’s tears and her promise that she would take care of us.

  Nothing prepares you for that kind of loss. And although it’s been more than a decade, I still avoid driving in the rain whenever I can. But today, that’s not an option, so all I can do is white-knuckle it all the way to Boulder and try not to have a panic attack along the way.

  “Do you think he forgot?” Harley asks.

  I’m on a conference call with my sisters—hands-free, obviously.

  “I don’t know how he could. We talked about it twice in as many days! I’m so freaking annoyed that he pulled this shit!”

  “I’m sorry, Avery. I would’ve come with you,” London says, voice full of empathy.

  “It’s so frustrating. We’ve been talking about this trip for a damn month. He was so stoked about seeing all the guys from college, and then he goes and puts some random vagina ahead of me and his friends.”

  “He’s a guy, though. They think with their dicks,” London replies matter-of-factly.

  She’s right, but it still irks me that my best friend couldn’t even put me before someone he doesn’t know or care about. “It pisses me off that he had to pick last night of all nights to scratch his freaking itch. And you know what else pisses me off?” I don’t wait for them to respond. “That I had a date last night who I could have gone home with if I’d wanted to.”

  “Yeah, but he had the personality of a bag of hair,” London reminds me.

  “Why can’t I look at the surface and not care about what’s inside?”

  “Is that a serious question or just you rambling because you’re frustrated?” Harley asks.

  “I don’t know. Both, maybe? It would be a heck of a lot easier if conversation skills weren’t important. I wish I could be one of those people who doesn’t need to connect emotionally with someone to sleep with them.”

  “I’m sure it would be a lot more convenient for the sake of meaningless sex, but I don’t think it would make you very happy to sleep with randoms. I’m also not sure it makes Declan happy either,” Harley says.

  “He didn’t sound very unhappy this morning when he was boning his sleepover friend,” I snap. I haven’t had sex in like … I don’t even know how long. The reality is I don’t do casual relationships. I need to be comfortable with my partners and that takes time and connection. Which is another thing I have a hard time with. The rain slows a little, so I adjust my wiper speed from hyperdrive to moderately frantic.

  “Maybe you need to be a little less discerning if you want the pleasure of a random hookup,” London says. “Although, I’m not sure Brock would’ve been the right choice for that, no matter what. He seemed like the kind of guy who would kiss his own bicep while pose-thrusting and then tell you there’s something wrong with you if you weren’t able to have an orgasm from looking at his awesome body.”

  I laugh, because that’s honestly what I pictured in my head when he invited me back to his place. I also felt like I would walk into a frat-style house, complete with a home gym set up in his living room and a lot of mirrors in his bedroom. “Going home with him would’ve definitely been a bad and very regrettable choice.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Harley’s voice takes on her quiet pensiveness that sometimes makes me nervous.

  “Sure.”

  She chuckles, probably because my tone belies my uncertainty. “Apart from Brock the Rock being athletic and hot, what made you want to go out with him?”

  “Uh…” I tap the steering wheel. “I don’t know. The attractiveness and sports were the selling feature, I guess.”

  “So you based it solely on athleticism and attractiveness?”

  “That makes me sound vain and shallow.”

  “That’s not what I’m trying to say; we know you’re neither of those things. But don’t you have to put your interests in your profile? Didn’t you chat online before you went out?” Harley presses.

  “Well, yeah, of course we chatted, but it was mostly about the things we have in common.” Which was sports. I can see where she’s going with this. “Maybe I am shallow, because obviously I was blinded by the pretty.”

  “Or maybe you’re intentionally choosing people who you aren’t going to get attached to,” Harley says softly.

  “You haven’t really been in a serious relationship since things ended with Sam,” London adds.

  “One bad date doesn’t mean I’m still hung up on Sam.” Awesome, and now I’m defensive about it. Sam and I were together from the middle of my sophomore year all the way through to the start of my senior year. It was the longest relationship I’ve ever had.

  “That’s not what either of us is saying, Avery. But you two were together for a long time, and since then, any relationship you have been in hasn’t had much depth or lasted more than a few months.”

  “I haven’t found anyone I click with.” It’s partly true. But I know what she isn’t saying: that I’m purposely avoiding getting attached to someone else because I’m too afraid to put my heart on the line.

  “We know how tough that breakup was for you,” Harley replies. “I’m sorry, now probably isn’t the best time to bring that up with you heading to Boulder.”

  “It’s okay. Maybe I’m not in the right headspace to date.”

  To say I was devastated when Sam and I broke up would be an understatement. I was so in love with Sam. I thought he was going to be my forever. After college, he moved to Aspen to work for the parks and recreation program. Things fell apart after that. He had a career, I was still in college. I wanted it to work, and we’d tried the long-distance thing for a while. The whole thing imploded during midterms my senior year when I found out he’d been cheating on me for months.
And he would have kept doing it if Declan hadn’t told me.

  It was not pretty. I threw myself into sports and studying, hung out with the guys, and didn’t date for the rest of my senior year. He’d been Declan’s best friend since high school, but after the breakup, Declan cut him off. I needed his loyalty more than I wanted to admit. And I took Sam’s place as Declan’s best friend.

  But Harley might be right that I’m not quite over how bad the breakup was, and I may very well be avoiding a serious relationship because I don’t want to get hurt like that again.

  Beyond that, I’d been heavily dependent on Sam, something I didn’t realize until he moved to Aspen. I’d always lived with someone, whether in dorms or with family. I’d never been on my own before, and I hadn’t known how to handle it.

  Declan, Jerome, and Mark had all been there for me, solid friends I could count on, but that dependency weighed on me, and I never wanted to feel that kind of loss again. It felt like an echo of my parents’ deaths, and the holes in my heart were too big, too raw, and too painful to deal with.

  It had been a dark time in my life. I worked myself into the ground, avoided being at home where all I felt was the vast emptiness that threatened to swallow me whole. My entire senior year was a struggle, one I don’t ever want to repeat.

  “One of the hobbyhorse guys was asking about you this morning,” London says, breaking my train of thought.

  I bark out a laugh. “Was it one of the jousters?” I’m glad for the topic shift. I don’t want to get sucked back into the sadness of the past, especially since I’m heading back to the scene of that particular crime. Boulder holds almost as many great memories as it does sad ones. Which was another reason having Declan with me mattered so much.

  “Why yes! It was! He called you feisty and wondered if you’d be around today. Unfortunately, I had to tell him you weren’t going to be in, but his name is Darby and he passed along his IG handle if you’re interested in checking out his feed.” London snickers.

  “I think I’ll pass, but thanks.” The rain has picked up again, and it’s accompanied by the red glow of brake lights up ahead. “I’m gonna let you girls go, but I’ll message once I get there.”

  “Okay. Sounds good. Drive safe. It looks messy out there today.”

  “Will do, love you!”

  “Love you back!”

  They end the call, which is great, because I really don’t want to take my hands off the wheel. Staying in the slow lane is smart, even if it means it’s going to take me half an hour longer than usual to make the drive. I’d prefer to be early, but with traffic, I’ll barely make it on time.

  We slow right down, crawling along at fifteen miles an hour. I have to assume there must be some kind of fender bender up ahead. It makes my palms damp and my mouth dry, but I’m too nervous to take my hands off the wheel for even a second. Ten minutes and two miles later, the source of the slowdown appears. A sports car is nose-down in the ditch, two tow trucks already at the scene.

  The traffic picks back up, but people are being cautious. Well, most people. There’s a jerk in a white pickup who’s clearly impatient because he or she is weaving their way through traffic behind me. I keep my eyes on the car in front of me, leaving space because of my tires.

  I’m in the middle of mentally chewing out Declan for screwing me over this morning because he was screwing a random when my phone rings. “Speak of the manwhore.” I’m pretty salty about the turn of events this morning and I’m not inclined to let it go right away, but I also don’t love the way I walked out.

  I give the voice command to answer the call as the white pickup slides between me and the car behind me. I lift my foot off the gas, slowing down to create extra space in front of me, and to hopefully inspire him to switch lanes.

  Seems like dicks are everywhere this morning.

  6

  IT’S ALL MY FAULT

  DECLAN

  I feel like a giant bag of shit, and not just because I drank way too much last night.

  Although that is definitely one reason. Of many. The second reason just left the condo. Mindy was a fun time, until she wasn’t anymore. She didn’t seem to understand that once Avery left—angrily—that we weren’t going to finish what we started.

  Once she realized the fun was over, she took her sweet-ass time getting her shit together. She also gave me a lecture on morning etiquette and seemed to think I should’ve made her breakfast, or offered her coffee and called her an Uber.

  Normally I might have done any or all of those things, but I felt particularly crappy about flaking out on Avery. Especially since it’s raining and she hates driving in anything but ideal weather conditions.

  I don’t know what I was thinking last night, other than shots seemed like a good idea and so did hooking up. Part of it may have been a result of Avery’s date. It’s not that she shouldn’t date, or that I don’t want her to. I do. But seeing her in that dress messed with my head, and I started thinking about her in ways I don’t like. So I figured a distraction was a good idea. And it was, until I completely forgot that we had to leave early in the morning, and screwed Avery over in the process.

  Now that the Tylenol has kicked in, I recognize how badly I messed up. I glance out the window, taking in the dreary Sunday morning sky, heavy with dark clouds. Rain patters against the glass and makes me feel even worse.

  For the past few weeks, she’s been going on and on about getting new tires because her mechanic mentioned the tread is worn. In my opinion, the guy was trying to cash in on Avery’s anxiety, especially seeing as we’re only a few months out from snow tire season. But Avery wasn’t willing to chance it for the drive to the University of Colorado. She’s chill about most things, but definitely not about anything car-related since she lost her parents in an accident.

  I cross the room, drop down on the couch, and take a deep breath. Avery is one of the most amazing people I know, but it’s never good to be on her shit list, and currently I’m sitting right at the top.

  I dial her number, expecting to be sent to voicemail, particularly since she’s driving and inclined to give me the cold shoulder.

  I’m surprised when she answers on the third ring, so I fumble a bit. “Uh, hey, Ave, you on the road?”

  “Yup.” Her tone tells me she’s pretty displeased by my thoughtlessness.

  I don’t bother to beat around the bush. It’s not really how Avery and I operate anyway. If there’s an issue, we deal with it and move on, so I’m hoping it won’t take too long for her to forgive me. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking last night when I brought someone home.” It would be a lot easier if we were on a video call, and I could use what she calls my puppy-dog eyes in conjunction with my I’m so sorry voice.

  “Well, I hope the two of you had lots of fun.” I can practically feel her eye roll. “And please make sure you Lysol the kitchen counter since I found your friend’s panties on the floor in there, and I’m assuming they didn’t just happen to fall off.”

  She is definitely pissed and not reining it in at all.

  I cringe as some of the memories come back. Mindy pretty much attacked me as soon as we walked in the door. Somehow we’d ended up in the kitchen—I think maybe I wanted water. I’d had the wherewithal to move it to my bedroom before she got full-on naked, though. “I’m sorry about that too. I feel like shit for letting you down. I can see if there’s a train or something and come up there this afternoon, then we can drive back together tomorrow.”

  “There’s only one train on Sunday and it’s left already.”

  “Are you sure? I can check.”

  “I used to take it all the time when I visited my grandmother. It leaves at nine ten, and the next train out isn’t until six tomorrow morning.”

  “Shit, that’s right.” Sometimes we’d come back to Colorado Springs together when we were in college. “I could Uber.”

  She sighs. I can’t tell if she’s annoyed or what. “Honestly, it’s fine. I’ll tell the guys
you were feeling under the weather or whatever. Geez, I wish this guy would back off.”

  “What guy? The one you went out with last night?”

  “No, not Brock. He had the personality of a wet blanket. I would rather hug a porcupine than go out with him again. There’s a guy riding my ass in a white pickup. He’s been driving like a douchecanoe for a while now. Traffic is slow and shitty, and he’s clearly impatient and getting on my nerves.”

  “Can you see his plate? I can call it in for you.” Avery gets extra nervous when trucks end up behind her, and I can totally understand why when she’s driving her clown car. They could basically use her as a speed bump and keep going.

  Avery is confident about most things, but she’ll avoid the freeway any chance she gets. If there are back roads she can take, she’ll most definitely use them, even if it means the trip will take longer.

  “Nah, I can’t make it out; it’s raining too hard.” Her voice has a waver to it, alerting me to the fact that she is most definitely on edge.

  I want to take her mind off of the guy tailing her and the bad driving conditions. “What time will you be back tomorrow? I can cook.”

  She snorts. “Gonna make me one of your famous grilled cheese sandwiches?”

  “I’ll do way better than that. I’ll grill steak and get those double-stuffed potatoes you really like from that place down the street. I’ll do asparagus, even though the stinky pee grosses me out.”

  That earns me a chuckle, which means she’s defrosting. There are a few dishes I’ve mastered over the years, and I’ve developed a real knack for grilling. “Can you pick up some of those jumbo garlic shrimp too?”

  “For sure. I’ll even get the bacon-wrapped tenderloin.”

  “Wow. You must feel pretty damn bad if you’re willing to splurge on the expensive stuff.”

  I run a hand through my hair. I need to shower away last night’s bad decisions. “I really am sorry, Ave. I don’t know what I was thinking.”