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Rational thoughts and alcohol don’t mix.
I wish I were like my best friends, without a care in the world, but my mind likes to screw me over, thinking of the worst-case scenarios.
A sassy redhead won’t leave my mind. Her hair was a golden copper color, and her striking eyes an earthy, forest green infused with specks of brown.
“Good night, boyfriend!” “Happy birthday and good night, girlfriend!” I laugh, shaking my head.
So what’s up with the camera?” I ask as he holds the door open for me to step inside. He had that same camera hanging from his neck last night and this morning. “Can I really be considered a boyfriend if I don’t have pictures of my girlfriend?” TJ doesn’t wait for me to respond as he continues. “Thought I could take pictures of art next to art.”
“You’re calm, I’m chaos, and together we can create something beautiful…don’t you think?”
“Peaches?” He grins when I roll my eyes at the nickname. Although it’s kind of grown on me. “Yeah?” “You’re worth it.”
Eight dollars for iced coffee should be a crime.
May 26. Peach juice. Our talk on the beach. The bracelets. The museum. The pictures. The painting. The dolphins. The sunset. Her.
“Just some girl, yet her face is tattooed on your arm,” he dryly retorts, his tone patronizing.
“I want to be in his life, and I don’t want you to hate me.”
“Absolutely not! It’s like saying Beetlejuice three times. The last thing I want to do is summon the devil.”
“We live an hour away from each other, and—” “We could live five hours away from each other and it still wouldn’t make a difference. Come on, let me take you,”
I could tell her that Peaches remind me of sunsets. A vast sky with brush-like strokes of golden copper, fused with amber, and a fiery orange that makes the sky look ablaze. Maybe it’s a reflection of how I felt the last day we were together, ablaze. Burning fiercely but nothing I didn’t want to stop feeling, at least not in that moment.
“Come on, Peaches. TJ’s waiting.”
“Polpetta?” I ask. Saint’s grin spreads from ear to ear. “Meatball. Just look at him. So chunky and so fuc—freaking adorable.”
“Did you just call my son a meatball?” TJ frowns.
“He’s my kid too,” TJ argues, but he only gets a wave of dismal from Saint. “Congratulations. No one asked,” Landon flatly states.
“Okay, we get it, he’s little and chunky. A little meatball, he’s just a kid, who happens to be Lola’s,” Jagger says from the corner of the living room, far away from all of us. “And mine,” TJ adds, exasperated.
“We’re in this for life.” He smiles. I return the smile. “We are.”
“And this is why you’re majoring in psychology.” Saint tsks, his tone arrogant. “Although it looks like you haven’t learned a damn thing.”
“Do it.” I swallow hard. “Kiss me.”
“Intoxicating,” he murmurs, nipping at my bottom lip. “You are fucking intoxicating.”
“Say you’re mine,” he huskily demands.
“Please just say it. Please say you’re mine.
“Look at what you do to me.” “That looks like a personal problem.”
“Can I kiss you?” “Yeah,” she breathlessly says.
“I’m a literal saint. I mean, come on, it’s my literal name.” “Far from it,” Coach grumbles.
“We’re part of the OCC. It’s in our oath.” I blink. “OCC? Oath?” “Only Child’s Club. We don’t have siblings, so we rely on each other, that kind of thing.”
“I can’t stand you.” “You love me. And I love you.”
“Seriously, hurry up. I don’t understand why it’s taking you so long to pick a damn book. Who needs that many books anyway?”
“Having me around too much could possibly be your downfall.” “Or the best thing to ever happen to me.”
“And trust me, it’s best if we take it off. I want to see every inch of you. Your stretch marks aren’t going to deter me from appreciating your body the way I’m supposed to.”
“You had our son. You brought life into the world. They’re proof once again of how astoundingly resilient you are. Please, for the love of God, don’t ever feel like you need to feel embarrassed or hide them from me or anyone else. They’re part of something beautiful that you and I created.”
“TJ, take your clothes off.” In record breaking time, I’m naked. “Bed, now.”
“I just want to be yours, like I want you to be mine.” Desperation pours from my mouth. “It doesn’t matter how many miles and people are between us. It’s only you and me.” I unhook my finger, interlocking my fingers between her slender ones. “Give me a chance and let me prove it to you. Please, Lola, please.”
“I wouldn’t go out of my way to date you if I was going to cheat on you. I may be a lot of things but cheater is not one of them.”
“How am I supposed to concentrate when you’re wearing my jersey and you look…you look really fucking good.” “Just pretend I’m not here.” “It wasn’t possible before and it’s definitely not going to be possible now.”
“Because what better way than to say you’re taken than wearing my name on your wrist. So do you?” “That sounds a bit possessive.” “Because I am. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t?”
I once said I was a weak man for her and I meant that. I am a weak man for Lola.
“Possessive, obsessive, and clingy as fuck. I hope you’re okay with that.”
“Little Red, whenever you get tired of this dumbass and want a real man, I got you.” He winks at her. “I may not have much dad material, but I sure as hell have a lot of daddy material.”
“This is so fucking weird.” “I still can’t believe this is happening.” “I bet he got in Saint’s box.” “He doesn’t look high to me.” “I would know if he got in my box.” “Well, he has to be on something because what the actual fuck?” “Or maybe we’re all just high? In some kind of derealization state.” “Love really makes you do wild things because past TJ would never.” “Past TJ would have burnt the house down.” “Past TJ would not be using seasonings.” “Or limes.”
“We’re fucked. The world is ending. That’s the only explanation for this.”
“Lola.” Jayden clears his throat, pulling her attention to him. “I want to warn you that TJ cooked, and that’s a rare and I mean extremely rare phenomenon. So, if I were you, I’d chew with caution and have nine-one-one on standby.”
“Louise, I love you. This”—I grab her hand, placing it on my chest right where my heart beats wildly for her—“this is yours, it’s all yours, and will always be yours. I want you to know that you own every part of me, and no one, absolutely no one will ever have this because it’s all for you, my love, my happy, my everything, only for you.”
“Whenever you look in the mirror, I want you to look at this and remind yourself who owns you,” he gravely murmurs against the spot. “Remind yourself that you’re fucking mine.”
“You’re annoying.” “But I’m your annoying person.”
