Maybe he was gay?
Once they were close enough to touch him, he stepped away. Their perfume was literally suffocating him. Why couldn’t they smell more like Ch—
“Shit!” He yelled, causing both girls to jump. “Sorry, it’s not you guys, it’s me.”
“Really?” Twin one said. “Are you getting rid of us? What the hell is your problem?”
“You. Both of you.” Jake growled. “Now leave.”
They flipped him off in perfect synchronization and grabbed their clothes. The minute the door closed behind them, he fell onto the couch and groaned.
Damn his brother for telling him to stay away from the one girl that actually made him want to give it up. He had to keep telling himself it would get better, that soon he wouldn’t have this problem. Because in the end he knew he was the type of guy that would hurt Char. There would be no happily ever after because guys like him didn’t know how to give it, and he wasn’t really sure he was able to be what she needed him to be.
Had he ever been that guy? The one girls ran to when something went wrong? No, that was his brother Travis. Jake was the screw up, the partier, the one who, when caught by Kacey’s dad at the age of fourteen snorting cocaine and partying with girls twice his age, took him by the ear, and told him he was ruining his life.
Which he was.
It hadn’t helped that the minute that Bill grabbed Jake, he was so high and disoriented that he had fallen into the river by their house and nearly drowned.
He hadn’t touched drugs since. Alcohol? Yes, maybe it was because it was the only way to numb everything. Jake never pretended to be something he wasn’t… he just wasn’t sure if he liked what he actually was anymore.
Chapter Twenty-nine
“Hey, jackass!” An irritating female voice called to him in his dream. “Wake up! It’s time to board the plane!”
“Why are you yelling?” Jake whispered, holding his hands to his temples. “And what the hell are you wearing?”
Char stood in front of him, hands on hips, wearing a bright pink sweat outfit straight from the pages of Victoria’s Secret.
“Son of a bitch, turn off the lights.” He put his hand over his eyes and kept swearing.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Char kept talking loudly. “Does my bright outfit make your headache worse? How about a shot of tequila, hmm?”
His stomach clenched at the thought. How was it that he was completely drunk out of his mind and still managed to turn down two women at the same time? And yet, the object of his affection looked about three seconds away from taking a knife to his nether region.
“No.” He croaked. “No alcohol.”
“Have fun last night?” Char crossed her arms. Her bright blue eyes were clear as the morning. What. The. Hell. So now he was a poet? He hit his chest and cleared his throat. Good. Chest thumping, he’d resorted to cave-man style) in order to prove he still had balls.
Good-bye last shred of manhood. He flicked his hand in the air as if to wave it off. Then realized he must still be a bit drunk.
“Get up.” Char kicked his chair.
“No.” He needed food. How did he even get to the airport? Was it a taxi? Right, a taxi, and then he paid the taxi, got his tickets, and numbly waltzed through security smelling like last night’s skank.
Funny. It was like a repeat of the last time he flew.
“Why are you smiling?” Char grasped his forearm and pulled him to his feet. “And why do you smell like ass? Did you even shower?”
His brain worked, slowly, as he thought about his morning. He’d forgotten to pack so ran around tripping on his furniture in order to get ready in time, barely grabbed his cell phone and had time to call for a taxi, but at no point did he think to take a shower. “Uh… no time.”
“You went home at nine o’clock last night. Must have been a rough evening with Tweedle dee and Tweedle Duh.”
He chose to say nothing. Instead, he leaned on Char as they handed over their boarding passes and made their way down the terminal to the plane. At least it wasn’t going to be a long plane ride. He also had it on good authority that Grandma was flying first class so there would be no bomb threats, EpiPens, or arrests.
Where the hell was Grandma?
Once they were on the plane he looked around. She wasn’t in first class, at least that he could see, and she wasn’t in coach.
“Where’s Grandma?” He asked Char, hating how gravely his voice still sounded.
“She flew out last night, something about a wedding emergency, do you ever check your phone or do you just stare at it and ask Siri to tell you your messages?”
Jake looked guiltily at the floor again, choosing not to answer.