The Sophomore (College Years #2) - Monica Murphy Page 0,81
me want to discover other ways I can leave her breathless. “I’m so glad you came in tonight. I’ve been thinking about you.”
“Really? Did you think about me when you went to the movies with Carson?”
The words fall from my lips without thought. They’re just out there, bouncing between us, and her mouth drops open as she scrutinizes me.
I snap my lips into a straight line, hating that I said that. Hating that I look like a territorial dick. Hating worse that I’d love nothing more than to piss a circle around where she stands so I can tell that Carson kid to back the fuck off, once and for all.
Disgusting but true.
“Um, are you okay?” Her smile is fake. Frozen in place. Like she doesn’t know what to say.
“I’m fucking great.” My smile is just as fake as I make my order.
She gives me my total. “Maybe we could talk later? After I get off work? I close tonight. As usual.”
“You don’t have plans?” I ask pointedly as I hand over my credit card.
Ellie sends me a questioning look. “No. Do you? Look, I know we’ve been super busy lately, but—”
I rudely interrupt her. “I’m available.”
That’s all I say. I can barely look at her. I can barely see straight, I’m so jealous. Which is stupid. We’re not together. Ellie is always just…there, and I took advantage of that. Expecting her to wait for me. Knowing deep down, I could never be what she needed.
Maybe that’s not true, though. Maybe I do want her. I sure as hell don’t want her with anyone else. That’s some straight-up bullshit. I can barely handle the thought of her being with another guy, like that wimpy Carson. He seems nice enough, but fuck that. He doesn’t know her like I do. He doesn’t understand her like I do either.
“I’ll text you when I’m off work.” She hands me the credit card slip and a pen and I scrawl my signature across the piece of paper, thrusting it toward her.
“You do that,” I bite out, storming away from the counter before she can even hand me my receipt. I head for our table, glancing over at the bar, where Chuck stands. He waves at me and I do the same, the need for alcohol suddenly consuming me. I wish I was twenty-one. I wish I could order a beer. A couple of shots. What the fuck ever I can get my hands on.
“We got alcohol at the house?” I ask Eli when I join them at the table.
Eli shrugs. “Maybe a couple of beers?”
“I do,” Caleb says. “The girls left behind some cheap ass tequila from that party they had at our house.”
Tony sends him a look, but otherwise remains quiet.
“I’m coming straight over then after we’re done here,” I tell them, sipping from my boring ass soda cup.
“I take it your conversation with Ellie didn’t go over so well,” Eli says.
“Your observation would be correct.” I scowl in her direction, my gaze dropping to the perfection that is her ass.
I look away before I become too fixated on it.
“Coming over to our house to get blindingly drunk won’t help matters,” Tony says, ever the logical one.
“It’ll help me cope,” I say with a halfhearted smile.
“Do you really need alcohol to cope, Jackson? If that’s the case, you have a bigger problem than just Ellie,” Tony continues.
“I don’t need you giving me shit tonight,” I mutter, glaring at the table. If I look at Tony too long, I might get pissed at him, and I don’t want that. I like the guy. It’s not his fault I’m in such a foul mood.
My bad mood is like a wet blanket draped over all of us. We’re downright somber as we wait for our food and I blame myself, though I’m also blaming that dick Caleb for bringing up Ellie’s date with Carson in the first place. Deep down, I know I’m just shooting the messenger or however that saying is supposed to go. I shouldn’t be mad at Caleb for telling me.
I should be upset with Ellie that she went on a date with someone else.
Though really? I guess I shouldn’t. We’ve never once defined what we are. Currently, we are friends. Who kiss on occasion. I gave her an orgasm once. I’d like to give her a bunch more, and I’d love it if she gave me a few as well. Could that ever happen?