Against the Wall (7 page)

“
Aw, now isn’t that sweet,” I hear the bastard say. “Is this like the new way to ask a girl to go steady? You let her wear your hoodie instead of your letterman’s jacket.”

Matty turns away from me, and we’re both facing Chase and Summer. I find comfort in having his arm around me, resting on my shoulder. I glance at the couple before me and realize how I’m in such a better place than she is. Summer is freezing, as observed by her T.H.O.s—titty hard-ons—piercing through her thin v-neck shirt. We should all be wearing protective goggles around those things.

Chase is wearing a light hoodie under a jacket. Would it kill him to offer up his coat to her? Or maybe she prefers the stylish icy look.

I’d just as soon walk away, but Matty squeezes my shoulder and says, “Summer. Quick question: does it bother you that your boyfriend is so vested in our relationship?” He points to us. “I’m glad I don’t have to worry about that. Shelly doesn’t even mention you guys, let alone talk smack to you right in front of me. I honestly think she could care less about either of you.”

Chase opens his mouth to say something, but Matty kisses the top of my head and says, “Let’s go, baby.”

I put my hand up to reach his on my shoulder, and hold on to it as we walk away.

How can I possibly thank him for this later?

Hmm … I can think of a few ways.

“
You ready?” Mel asks me as I jump in her car. She looks great. Dark fitted jeans, knee high black heeled boots, lacey turquoise sleeveless top, and a few strands of colorful beads around her neck. Bright colors always look amazing against her olive skin tone. She styled her hair smooth and straight, and did her smoky eye trick. With her wide-set eyes, she can totally pull that look off like a MAC model. Is she looking for a man too, or what? She looks hot.

Raising my brow, I tell her, “Maybe I need a makeover. Guys aren’t gonna notice me next to you, hot mama.”

“
Don’t be silly. You look great.” She waves me off with a hand in my face to tell me I’m being dramatic. I flip the visor mirror down and notice I really do look good. Well, I don’t want to sound conceited but I’d do me. I’d really do Mel, but I’m doable. I wish I could do a smoky eye though. It just doesn’t look the same on my almond-shaped green eyes. Believe me, I’ve tried. I snap the mirror shut, and she asks me, “Where to?”

“
What do you mean, where to? I thought you had that part figured out. You’re picking me up.”

“
This isn’t a date, Shel. I thought you’d have a plan.”

“
Oh great, I finally work up the nerve to get a piece of ass and I don’t even know where to look for it.”

“
Don’t freak. Let’s just think for a sec. Where do single people go to hook up?” Mel pouts her face in deep thought.
Hook
up
—it sounds so dirty. Not that searching for a
piece of ass
is any better. But it’s so impersonal … like I’m looking for a male hooker or something. Great, my fiancé dumps me and I’m five seconds away from combing the boulevard looking for a man to jump my bones before I become a born-again virgin. Okay, maybe we should call it something other than hooking up. Plus, I didn’t bring any cash, and I doubt if we did find a male prostitute, he’d take my bank card. I don’t think they carry a credit card machine in their thongs. Maybe I can swipe it between his butt cheeks. I giggle inside. Mel yelps, “Hello! You’re not helping. Where should we go?” She asks again, like two times is the magic number and I’m going to all of a sudden know where to find a man. Newsflash, if I knew where to find one, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.

“
I have no fucking clue. Neither one of us has been single in like ten years. The last time I was dating was in college. I’m not about to hit the library or a frat party.”

She grins. “That could be fun. You wanna be a cougar?” She flutters her brows.

I punch my friend on the arm and tell her to go to hell. “Let’s just go to the new wine bar.” I roll my eyes in disbelief. I can’t believe I just mentioned a wine bar. Gag.

“
Wine? You don’t even like wine.”

“
Well, maybe the guys will be a little bit classier than if we hit the Yard House for a long skinny tube of beer.”

“
Oh, honey, you’re looking for a man tonight. Don’t mention long, skinny, and tube in the same sentence.” Mel says this with a straight face, but I can’t help but laugh.

“
What’s wrong with long?” I ask through snorts.

“
Nothing as long as it’s not skinny. I’d rather have short and thick.”

I smack her again. “You’re bad, my friend.”

Finally Mel starts her car and we are on our way to find the man of my dreams. Okay, maybe not the man of my dreams. Maybe just someone who doesn’t bug the shit of me and can take my mind off of Chase, and Matty, for a while.

It’s a half hour drive to the bar—which would take only ten minutes if Mel would stop being a pus and drive on the freeway—and my mind is filled with thoughts about two men who are as different as night and day. How can I be so attracted to both? I thought I had a type. I guess not, because not only do Chase and Matty look different, everything else about them is in contrast too. Chase isn’t a talker, he’d prefer to go to dinner and eat in silence. When Matty and I eat together, there is a constant flow of chatter in between bites. When Chase gets angry, he attacks and tries to say anything to put you down. Matty is chill. When something bothers him, he talks it out without raising his voice. Why is it again that I still have feelings for Chase? Hmm. I guess the saying is true. Love
is
blind. And with ten years of history, I’d say it’s probably deaf too.

After last week’s incident with Matty and Chase at the game, I expected Matty to tell me what a jerk Chase is, but he didn’t. I thanked him for making Chase and Summer look like idiots, not in those words exactly. He just waved me off like it was nothing. He did, sort of lie, to them. Mel and I talk about Summer all the time. And he made it seem like he and I are a couple. But oh well. I felt like I was on a major high when we walked away that night. I have so much respect for Matty for not saying anything bad about Chase. It would be so easy, but he just keeps his mouth shut.

Mel, on the other hand, is a different story. On the way home from the game, Mel had a trash talking fest. She unleashed years of frustration about things Chase had done or said to piss her off. Apparently, she’s been biting her tongue—which is totally uncharacteristic of her—because she thought he made me happy. But now that Chase and I are over, she is no longer keeping quiet with her true feelings about my ex.

“
You know, I never really thought you guys would last as long as you did. I didn’t say anything because I figured you guys would break up sooner or later. But then you stayed together longer and longer, and it was too fucking late. You already loved him, and you sure as hell wouldn’t have listened to me if I said anything. But now, you know he’s a dick. So get on with your life. I don’t give a shit if you move on with Matty or with the paleta man, just get over Chase already.”
Her words have been replaying in my head, over and over again. The paleta man? Really? I don’t remember the last time I saw an ice cream man go down my street.

And if that wasn’t enough, she also took the time to remind me about when Chase went out of town for this job he had when we were in our credential program. He was supposed to be gone for four days but got home early and didn’t tell me. Instead, he went to his friend’s house, played video games and went golfing with the boys. I would’ve never known but his boss called for him and when I told him Chase was still out of town, he embarrassed the shit out of me when he said they had all arrived on the same plane two days earlier. I could have killed Chase. But of course, he made it sound like it was my fault he needed some “me” time and a break from being “married” already.

I forgave him, like the love sick girl I was, and never spoke of it again. That is until my bestie reminded me of what a stupid ass I was to let it go. At the time, the whole thing didn’t seem so bad, but now, looking back, I feel like I was such a fool.

The car turns off and the sound of Mel’s favorite 80’s boy band is silenced. It’s fun to watch her dance to the music like we’re still in junior high. After repeatedly watching the same music videos over and over again until the tape threatened to give out, we could’ve easily been backup dancers. I bet we still could.

“
You ready?” she asks, as she opens her car door.

Well, we’re here. So I guess it doesn’t matter.

And just as quickly as we walk in the place, we walk out.

Bad idea. The guys at the wine bar fit into one of three categories. One—twenty-somethings in Hollister shirts who kept saying, “Dude”. Two—old guys in blazers who sniffed, swished, and swirled before taking a tiny sip of wine and spitting it out. And three—the good looking, funny guys my age who would have been totally perfect had they not been there … with their wives.

“
What now?” Mel asks as she starts her car.

“
Cheesecake Factory?” I suggest.

Mel sighs, “Really? Don’t think you’re gonna find a guy interested in women sitting at the bar there.”

She has a point. “BJ’s?”

“
You want this hypothetical guy to watch you or a game?”

“
Suck it, Mel. You decide then.”

“
Oh, whatever. Let’s go to BJ’s. I could use a Pazookie right about now.”

Yum. The thought of a Pazookie sounds so much better than man-hunting. If only a guy could be as sweet and delicious as a hot fudge chocolate chip cookie with ice cream on top. My mouth waters. Yes, definitely going to order dessert when we get there.

BJ’s is just as crowded as I thought it would be for a Friday night. What’d we expect? After waiting 45 minutes, we finally snag a seat at a booth in the bar area. I order a Jeremiah Red, and Mel gets some fruity concoction with a ridiculous name.

Our first drink comes, and I can’t take a sip fast enough. A little dribbles down my chin and I hurry to catch it. I take another sip. Oh, how I love beer. So soothing to the belly, to the mind, to the heart. I really love pushing my palette with a variety of brews. I usually just drink Hef at home—not too heavy, but not piss water either. But at a bar, I like to go a little darker, with fuller flavor.

While I concentrate on my beer, Mel looks around like a lion on the prowl for her next meal.

“
I swear, all these guys look like children,” she rattles. “And what’s with the tight shirts? I don’t want my man to wear tighter clothing than mine. And the girly pants? The little boys at school gross me out with their skinny jeans, and here we have grown men wearing them.”

I look around and I see what she’s talking about. Looks like we walked into an ad for Abercrombie, American Eagle, and Hollister. I think I see a guy with pooka shells around his neck. Nice. One dude’s pants are so tight I can actually see his balls. Big huge balls. Maybe they didn’t start out so enormous, but since his blood circulation is being cut off by denim, his nuts have swelled to the size of apples. It looks painfully freakish, yet I can’t tear my eyes away.

“
Are you looking at the guy with the humongo testicles?” Mel asks, with a snort.

“
How did you know?” I respond.

“
You’re eyes got huge all of a sudden,” she says. “It looks like he stuffed two potatoes in his pants. Why don’t his friends tell him something? I would totally tell you if your va-jay-jay was exploding out of your jeans. Poor guy is never gonna be able to have children.”

“
Hey ladies,” a young man’s voice sounds. “We were just waiting for a table to free up and noticed you two beautiful women were alone. Would you mind if we joined you?” The screech we hear is coming from a barely legal guy in baggy ass thug-life pants and a shirt three sizes too big. His friend, who has a cute face, looks just as silly as him. Is there no in-between here? These guys either look like they’re sporting a camel toe in their spandex jeans or they look like they could be extras in Boyz in the Hood.

“
Are you guys even old enough to sit in the bar?” I ask, teasing.

The young men smile.

Mel looks them up and down before saying, “Tell me this. Who was the most popular boy band when you were in high school?”

The guys look at each other. One of them scratches his head. “Probably the Jonas Brothers,” he replies.