Chronicles of a Serial Dater - Book 7: A New Adult Romantic Comedy (2 page)

This is where my memory goes all fuzzy. There are moments here and there, but nothing that can be pieced together in a coherent way. I can’t even be sure how long we stood there talking, but the next thing I remember was sounding like every drunk coed after a hard night.

“Why are you acting like this?” I whined.

“And how exactly am I acting?” he asked, rolling his eyes.

I scrunched up my face and looked him head to toe. “Like you… I don’t know. Like
that!
” I exclaimed, pointing at his mouth. “That right there.”

Just as he was about to respond, Anette suddenly appeared at my side. “There you are! So sorry. I accidentally left my leash in the car and Talia slipped away. Anette,” she said as she held her hand out.

“Clint,” he replied taking it.

Anette turned to me and spoke as if I were a child. “I think it’s time for
someone
to go home.”

“I’m fine. I’m…”

“That’s a great idea,” Clint said. Again, there was the steely tone!

“Right there!” I shouted, waggling a finger in his face.

Anette dug her fingers into my shoulders as she physically pushed me away from him. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” she said sweetly. But in my ear, she was harsh and abrasive. “You get your tight little white ass out that door right now or so help me…”

“Yeah, yeah,” I complained. A few feet away, I realized I hadn’t said goodbye to Clint yet. “I hope you have a good evening. Thank you for coming,” I said with a sarcastic wave over my shoulder.

Anette poured me into the backseat of a cab and gave the driver our address. For whatever reason, this freaked me out and I bolted straight up.

“You can’t leave! He’ll rape me!”

The driver jumped so high the car rocked on its shocks. “What the fuck? I’m not gonna rape… naw, get out. I ain’t gonna…”

With a big groan, Anette climbed in behind me. “I’ll go with you, you little brat. You’re well past brat,” she muttered. “You’re a full-fledged drunken psycho now.”

I calmed down and curled up in her lap. She stroked my hair and said nasty things in a nice, sing-songy voice. “If you puke on me, I’m gonna shave your hair off. Everyone is nice to you, but we all talk shit behind your back. If this doesn’t make up for our fight, I’ll just have to bang Zach to make things even.”

The cab stopped. Voices spoke around me. I was lifted from the back and helped upstairs. It wasn’t until someone was feeling along my side for pockets that I realized Anette was gone and Zach was the one holding me up.

“Where are your damn keys?”

I blinked up at him. “In my purse. Like a normal person. This dress doesn’t have pockets, obviously.” I tried to do a little twirl but nearly fell over. He only caught me at the very last second.

Zach was absolutely amazing. He helped me inside, got me changed into my PJs, and put me to bed. As he set a trashcan, glass of water, and some juice by my head, I reached out for him.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he laughed. “You’re still my friend.”

My eyes were closed and I was half asleep, so it’s a miracle I remember saying any of this at all. “You’re my friend, too. Mr. Magic Tongue,” I giggled.

“Okay, weirdo. Call me if you need me.” He clicked off the lights, all but a small one in the corner of the room.

After a heartbeat, I called out. “Zach?”

“Yeah?”

“I was afraid.”

“What? Tonight? You’re home safe now, no taxi driver will…”

“No. Of us. Of you. I’m afraid I’d fall in love with you.”

Zach didn’t reply but I heard him pause and sigh. The floor creaked as he walked back to the side of the bed and kissed me softly on the forehead. I vaguely heard the door click shut before I passed out completely.

Hurricane Talia had finished destroying Manhattan. For now…

My hangover was less physical and more emotional. Sure, my skull felt like it was about to crack open, I couldn’t turn my head without wanting to gag, and my mouth tasted like an ashtray. But that wasn’t causing me the real pain. What hurt most was the blurry memory of Clint’s face as I made a complete asshole of myself. I literally cringed when I got glimpses of our conversation from the night before, things I said, ways I’d touched him.

I tried to tell myself it wasn’t nearly as bad as I was remembering. I didn’t want to move from my bed, so I called out to Anette. No answer. I yelled again and heard Pluto trot to my closed door.

I finger-walked my way across the crap on my side table to find my phone. I squinted into the bright screen to send her a text, but the moment I hit send, I remembered her telling Zach she would stay at Amie’s.
Shit.
And then I remembered Zach and saying something about falling in love with him.
Double shit.

And then I remembered Clint again. No amount of profanity could cover that foggy memory.

After chugging the glass of water Zach had left for me, I somehow dragged myself out of bed to take the dog out for a short walk. Once I was back inside, I collapsed on the sofa and kicked off the world’s biggest pity party.

There is something seriously wrong with me. It’s like I actively sabotage these relationships. It’s as if Kevin made it so I’m not capable of feeling loved or valued. No, don’t blame him. You can’t keep blaming your ex for everything… your parents should carry some of that burden, too.
I snorted, the vibration sending a wave a dizziness through my pounding skull.

I wanted to feel that sexiness I’d somehow captured when I was with Oliver and Zach. Being a sexual goddess was strangely addicting. It was like an injection of confidence. I pulled out my phone and got swiping. I hated to admit it, but since I’d given Anette control over my Tinder profile, I was getting much better matches. Still, I was picky as hell. I might have felt like death warmed over, but that didn’t mean I had to lower my standards.

If I was goddess, he was an aspiring superhero. He was knocking at my door in the time it took for me to brush my teeth, run a comb through my hair, and wipe the excess makeup from under my eyes. Superman indeed.

Blaine leaned against the frame of the door as I opened it, arms crossed, face handsome but arrogant. To be fair, it was a pretty face. Longish shaggy black hair hung over his dark eyes, a slight stubble on his strong jaw.

“Hey,” he said around a piece of gum.

“Hey yourself.” As I let him in, I ran a hand through my long hair and hoped I looked better than I felt.

“Nice place,” he lied.

“Thanks. I can give you a tour,” I purred suggestively.

“As long as it ends in the bedroom,” he replied with a cocky tilt to his head.

Good. He’s catching on nicely.
I reached out for his hand and led him to my bedroom. I should’ve aired it out first. The room stank of booze and sweat, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. I spun a little too quickly in the middle of the room, the flourish sending my stomach into flip-flops. I squeezed my eyes shut to steady the spinning and when I opened them, he was stripping the white shirt from his body.

“Your turn,” he said as he dropped the shirt to the floor.

I mimicked the movement.

His belt jingled as he unclipped it. The chain attached to his wallet clattered when his pants joined his shirt on the floor. My sweatpants didn’t make as much noise when they landed beside them.

Blaine was a fantastic kisser. He pushed me against the bed and gently lowered me to my back. With a hand threading through my hair, he nipped and teased my lips. It was hot as hell, if only the room would’ve stopped moving.

My eyes snapped open as I pushed him away with a firm hand to his chest. “Since you’re a guest in my home…” It was supposed to sound demure and suggestive but came out bizarre, like I was a Stepford Wife offering a blowjob instead of iced tea.

Again, if he noticed, he didn’t care. After I shifted him to the edge of my bed, I grabbed a pillow and sank to my knees. I loved the stark contrast of the dark ink of his tattoos against his pale skin. I went through the motions, waiting for that seductive spark to take over. I played the role, said all the right things, but I still wasn’t feeling like a goddess.

“This is so hot,” he moaned as I took him into my mouth.
Hell yeah, it is,
I thought, but I didn’t feel it.

What the hell was I thinking? Wait, that was the problem. I wasn’t thinking. If I got dizzy just walking around my apartment, what made me think I could bob up and down for a good ten or fifteen minutes? After a few strokes, I was already feeling woozy, but Talia the People Pleaser kicked in. Even hungover I apparently want to make sure everyone has a good time.

I pulled away and looked up into his dark eyes, making it appear like I was teasing him rather than keeping the room from spinning.

“You’re amazing,” he sighed.
I am amazing, aren’t I?

I dipped my tongue down to the bottom of his shaft and gave him a long lick up to the tip. Watching his reaction produced that small surge of confidence I was searching for.
That’s right. I did that.
I did it again and again, eventually taking him back into my mouth completely.

Blaine was the loudest guy I’ve ever been with. “Oh my God. Oh… yes, right there,” he coached. He’d touch the side of my face and encourage me to look up at him, my cheeks hollowed around his cock. “You’re incredible.”

I am incredible.

It was a perfect storm. His enthusiasm pushed me further than I should’ve gone. My selfish ego wanted to be stroked as much as his dick. I’d found a good rhythm that didn’t make my head feel too horrible. All it took was bad timing to ruin the whole moment.

I could tell he was getting close, his cock swelling in my mouth. Plus, he was saying it over and over, so that was a good hint too. I shifted slightly on my knees to get ready for the finish just as he threaded his fingers through my hair. It’s not exactly my favorite move but he wasn’t holding on too tightly, so I didn’t bat him away.

“
Ungh
, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” he hissed through clenched teeth.

The first spurt landed on my tongue. Unfortunately, he met my down stroke with a buck of his hips, sending his dick further down my throat than I was prepared for. My stomach was on a hair trigger as it was…

Listen. There’s no good way to say this. I puked on his cock. I threw up on him as he was mid-orgasm. I chucked as he shot.

I loosened my lips and tried to pull away as the warm vomit hit his groin, thighs, and lower stomach. I wrenched my head back in time to see a few more spurts of cum arc through the air. Blaine’s moans of pleasure twisted into grunts of horror.

“What the… holy shit! Are you…” The poor guy sat there frozen staring at his still-hard cock now covered in… yeah. I won’t detail that for you.

“I’m so sorry,” I exclaimed, trying to hold off another wave of nausea with the back of my hand.

Time stopped. We stared at each other as if holding perfectly still might somehow make everything return to normal. It was only when he went to touch himself and recoiled in horror did I jump into action.

I rushed to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and grabbed a couple towels. I was in embarrassment shock. It flickered just at the edge my vision, waiting for the crisis to end before enveloping me in a blanket of shame. All things considered, Blaine was an absolute sweetheart about the whole thing. I’m not sure how I would’ve reacted if someone had done that to me. Although, I did run away after I’d smeared shit all over a stranger’s back, so there’s that…