Constructing Us (New Adult Romance) (13 page)

“So T
ray’s in kind of a bad mood tonight, huh?” Bardo remarked and threw a dart at the board.  It ricocheted off and hit the floor.  “Something’s wrong with these darts, I think.”

Pellican
snorted then stepped up to throw.  Before he actually launched a dart, though, he positioned and re-positioned his stocky frame, making a point of squinting his eyes, strategically.  “You’re over-concentrating,” Bardo said.

“Oh, this from the guy with the defective darts theory,” Pellican quipped and then finally threw.  After the
dart stabbed the board, Pellican glanced back at Matt, who was standing against a wooden railing, holding a bottle of beer.  “What’s his problem tonight anyway?  Do you know?”

“Yeah,
Matt, you must know what’s up with Tray,” Bardo put in.

Unsure,
Matt looked across the room at Tragan, who was still sitting at the bar, being antisocial.  In fact, he looked glum as hell.  Since Tragan had arrived, he’d been routinely pulling out his phone, checking the screen, and shoving it back in his pocket.  “No idea,” Matt replied now.  “Shitty mood, I guess.”  He supposed he could conjure up a better guess, but he wouldn’t.   

Soon
Bardo ambled up next to him, chomping on a handful of pretzels.  “Don’t get me wrong.  I’m glad he decided to meet us out.  But he’s so brooding tonight.  I asked him what’s up, but he said nothing’s wrong.”

Considering
Tragan was Matt’s best friend, Matt knew him well enough to know that if he didn’t want to talk about it, he sure as hell didn’t want to be talked
about
.  So, changing topics, Matt tapped Bardo on the chest.  “Hey, by the way, I thought you said this place would be crawling with chicks.”

“It is,” Bardo insisted.  “After
ten o’clock.”

“
What?
” Pellican interjected, annoyed.  “It’s only eight!  What are we supposed to do till then?”

“
Oh, relax,” Bardo said, crunching more pretzels.  “There are plenty of girls here.  It’s not my fault they didn’t swarm
you the minute you walked through the door.” 

Matt
had to laugh at that, while Pellican mumbled, “Whatever,” and surveyed the crowd again.  Just then a passing waitress stopped to ask Matt if he wanted another beer, and Bardo ducked his head over to request a gin and tonic.  By the time she stepped away, Pellican was approaching, excitedly. “Hey, guys!  See those hot girls over there?  Behind you.”

As Bardo and
Matt turned their heads, Pellican scolded, “No, don’t look!”

“Okay, t
hen I don’t see them,” Matt said dryly.

Bardo agreed, “
Look, bro, I have many talents, but…”

Impatient, Pellican relented,
“Fine, look.  It’s the blonde and two brunettes at that table by the window.”  Once Matt and Bardo acknowledged the view, Pellican explained, “I noticed that the blonde keeps looking over at Tray.  I think she’s feeling him.  She’s probably working up her nerve to go talk to him at the bar.  Perfect!  He’ll be my in.”

“With the blonde?” Bardo asked skeptically.

“No, with one of the brunettes.  Actually, the blonde’s really the only hot one.  But her friend on the right isn’t bad.  I’d be okay with her,” Pellican stated as though he were being generous. 

Clapping him on the shoulder,
Matt gave him a pitying look.  “Well, the friend’s not looking at ya.” 

Pellican scoffed.  “Duh, I know.  T
hat’s why I need Tray to be my wingman.”  They all headed to the bar, finding Tragan in the middle of taking out his phone yet again.  This time he laid it flat on the bar rather than jamming it back in his pocket. “Hey, Tray, listen, don’t look now but there’s a hot girl staring at you,” Pellican told him.

Tragan didn’t even reply
.  He just sat there, looking darkly into his empty glass.

“Did you hear me?  I said there’s a
hot girl checking you out, man.”

“I don’t care,”
Tragan mumbled, his expression somber.

Clearly perplexed,
Pellican curled his lip at that reaction.  Then said: “All right, I know I said ‘don’t look,’ but actually you can. Go ahead.”

Tragan
ignored him and focused instead on the bartender passing by.  “Can I get a tequila shot?”  The bartender nodded and produced a shot glass instantly.

“Tray, she’s really hot,” Pellican
insisted, obviously frustrated, and began nudging him in the shoulder.  “And her friend’s not bad--so c’mon, be my wingman.  You can have the hot one!”

Tragan’s voice was apathetic. 
“No, thanks,” he said, before draining his glass and slapping it down on the bar.

“
Aren’t you even gonna
look
?” Pellican said, exasperated.

“Nope.
”  He smacked his hand on the bar, indicating another shot.  As the bartender refilled his glass, Matt spoke up.

“
Stop nagging him.  C’mon, I’ll be your wingman.  Let’s go.”

Still glaring at Tragan, Pellican accepted that. 
Matt didn’t have trouble talking to girls at bars, especially after a beer or two.  It was meeting a good girl in real life that seemed to be harder for him.  He didn’t meet a lot of women during the day since he worked in construction.  And then when he did cross paths with one that interested him, half the time he didn’t know what to say to get a vibe going.  Like this new receptionist his father had just hired to help run the main office.  Matt was immediately attracted to her, yet still hadn’t been able to think of a damn thing to say to her that wasn’t empty nonsense. 

Now they reached the table and
Matt smiled at the girls.  Admittedly, the hot blonde was in her own league, but her friends were cute, too, in a more natural girl-next-door way.  “Hi, boys,” the blonde said with a flirtatious smile.

“Hi. 
I’m Matt and this is Dan.”

“Kristin.”

“Sara.”

“Angel.”

“What are you ladies drinking?” Matt asked, turning to motion for a waitress.

“
Pomtinis,” one of them said.

“I
love
those,” Pellican lied.  When Matt heard loud crunching behind him, he realized that Bardo had followed along, too.  “Do you guys live around here?” Pellican said, opening with possibly the stalest line of all time.

Before they
bothered answering that, the blonde one--Kristin--said, “What’s up with your friend over there?  That’s your friend at the bar, right?” 

Matt
was about to respond when Bardo joined the conversation.  “Oh, that’s Tray,” he explained.  “But don’t waste your time.  We already asked him to come and talk to you guys, but he wasn’t interested.  Hi, I’m Jamie,” he finished, extending his hand with an utterly clueless smile. 

Taken aback,
Matt almost laughed--but he didn’t want the girls to misunderstand and think he was laughing at
them
.  Predictably, Kristin and her friends didn’t respond well to blatant rejection, even if it was doled out by a third party.  “You know what?” she said, scrunching her nose and giving Sara and Angel a knowing look.  “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

“Me, too.”

“Excuse us.”

As they abandoned their chairs one by one, Pellican looked crestfallen.  “Wait…” he called to their backs,
grasping at nothing.

Ever the optimist,
Bardo looked to Matt for guidance.  “So...should we just wait for them here?”

~

About forty minutes later, Pellican and Bardo finally gave up on the trendy Bubble Bar and went to a nondescript sports bar a few doors down.  Matt told them that he’d gather Tragan from the bar and meet them there.  “Good luck with that,” Pellican had grumbled.  “He’s being a real dick tonight.”

“Hey, he helped you mo
ve, didn’t he?” Matt countered, coming to his friend’s defense, which humbled Pellican quickly. 

Now, after finall
y convincing Tragan to forego another shot and walk over to join their friends, he abruptly changed his mind.  Stopping at an empty table on the way to the door, he slumped down in one of the chairs.  “You know what?  I don’t feel like it; you go.”

“What’s there to stay here
for?” Matt asked, to which Tragan just shrugged, his expression sullen.  The guy was in a bad shape.  His mood had been off most of the day, but tonight it was downright miserable.  Had to be a girl.  And if so, there was only one girl it could be.

Just as
Matt pulled out the chair across from him and sat down, a waitress appeared at the table.  “Anything, guys?”

Tragan
glanced up at her, but Matt quickly answered for both of them.  “No, we’re fine, thanks.”  When she left, he said, “So.  This is about Andy?”

“Fuck Andy,” Tragan
spat back, sounding bitter.  And a little drunk.

“What happened?”

With his eyes cast down toward the table, Tray didn’t respond for a few moments.  “We hooked up this morning,” he finally said.  “Now I guess she’s blowing me off.”

“Why d’ya think that?”

“Because I haven’t heard from her all day.  She hasn’t answered any of my texts and I tried to call her…”  He shook his head, still scraping at the table. 

“Maybe something’s really wrong
,” Matt ventured.

“No, she
was acting all weird afterward, like she couldn’t flee fast enough.  And then--oh, get this,” Tragan went on, now becoming more animated, “guess who I see in my apartment tonight. 
Dr. Brad Trewell
,” he said, obviously imitating the guy, “and he’s sitting on
my
fucking couch!  That’s who she’s with
tonight.  Dr. Fucking Lamborghini Douchebag.”

“
Shit, he’s got a
Lamborghini
?” Matt blurted, impressed.

With a grimace, Tragan
admitted, “No, probably not.  But still…I’m sure he’s rich.  Took her to a wine festival or some shit--said they had a ‘romantic evening’ planned--but what the hell, right?  I don’t even care so fuck it.”  At some point, he’d begun absently scraping at the edge of the table. 

For a second,
Matt wasn’t sure how to console his friend.  Sensing it was futile, he still tried to keep it simple.  “Listen, buddy, no chick is worth all this.  Why don’t you just forget about Andy?  You know, just--”  He made a slicing motion with his hand.  “--let her go.”

“I can’t,”
Tragan mumbled, pushing his hand into his hair.  Then shook his head, his elbow resting on the table.  “She’s got me all twisted up.”

Honestly,
Matt felt sorry for him, but was also surprised.  He’d known Tragan for years, but couldn’t remember seeing him this upset.  Feeling protective of his friend--and specifically, not wanting him to lose his shit in public--Matt stood up and shoved Tragan’s arm.  “All right, buddy, c’mon.”

“Nah…”  Tragan waved him off.  “I don’t feel like going to another bar.”

“Not another bar.  It’s time to go home.”

“I can’t yet
.  I’m too wasted.”

“I’m driving, remember?”

“Oh, right.”  Reluctantly, Tragan came to his feet.  Matt wished he had words of wisdom to offer, but he was coming up empty at the moment.  The best he could do was relay a trite sentiment he’d often heard from his parents when he was growing up. 

“It’ll be better in the morning,” he said on their way to the exit.  Tragan didn’t bother arguing--but he didn’t look too convinced, either.

When Andy heard the front door shut and keys drop somewhere, she gave up on her futile
attempt to concentrate, tossed the novel she was reading and hopped off her bed.  Quickly, she checked her reflection in the mirror that hung on her door.  Just habit really, since she was hardly primped, wearing pjs and a tee shirt, her hair in a ponytail and her face freshly scrubbed. 

Still, her body hummed with anticipation as s
he stepped out and followed the noise.

She found
Tragan in the kitchen, ducked inside the open refrigerator.  After accidentally knocking over a couple of unopened water bottles, he banged his head on the roof of the fridge.  “Shit,” he muttered, briefly rubbing the spot before pulling out a water bottle.

“Hi,
” Andy said, crossing her arms and smiling at him.

“Oh.  Hey,” Tragan grumbled
as he straightened up.  She felt a fluttering in her chest when Tragan’s dark eyes turned toward her.  Even with only the streetlight from the kitchen window cutting across his profile, he looked unbearably sexy.

“Are you okay
there?” she asked teasingly.

“Yeah,”
he scoffed, sounding sarcastic, “I’m just great.”  Untwisting the cap of his bottle, he stepped out of the way so the fridge door could close.  “Sorry, did I wake the mannequin?”

She tipped her head at that. 
“What…?”

“Brad
,” he clarified and brought the bottle to his lips.  As he took a long gulp, Andy squinted at him for a second.

“
Brad isn’t here,” she said, confused.

Nodding, Tragan
leaned against the opposite counter.  Then he remarked, “That’s right; you don’t bring him around here much.  He’s part of your
other
life.”

Andy
stayed quiet for a second, studying him.  He was twisting the cap back on, his face inscrutable and yet he was obviously annoyed or in a very bad mood.  “What’s wrong?  Did something happen today?” 

With a frustrated
sigh, Tragan shook his head toward the floor.  Keeping his eyes cast down, he absently rubbed a hand over his jaw, as if debating whether or not to explain. 

“Did the move go okay?”

Now Tragan looked up, his gaze focused on her.  “
Yes
--something happened today, Andy,” he said impatiently.  “Not with the move.  With you and me.”  A brief look of hurt crossed his face before he turned toward the window. 

Emotion clutched at her--as well as a need to
fix this, to mend whatever was wrong.  “I know…” she said gently, coming closer.  When she was standing beside him, she affectionately touched Tragan’s arm. 

His
eyes skimmed down to where her fingers rested on his bicep.  He was so close that she couldn’t help herself.  Standing on tiptoe, she reached up, took Tragan’s cheek in her hand and kissed him tenderly on the mouth.  It seemed to catch him off guard, which was half of her objective.  The other half was just to kiss him again. 

W
hen she pulled back, she found his bleary eyes searching hers.  Warm puffs of his breath feathered over her face and smelled of alcohol; maybe it should have turned her off, but being this close to Tragan only excited her.  “Why are you acting this way?” Andy asked softly.

Again he shook
his head, and lightly pulled Andy’s hand from his face.  It was a halfhearted gesture, though, since he didn’t move away or put any real distance between them.  “Don’t do that--don’t try to distract me with your…”

Puzzled, s
he blinked at him.  “With my what?”

Expelling a breath, Tragan
rattled off the list as though it aggravated him.  “With your big blue eyes--and your beautiful face--and your cute, sexy ass.  Okay?  Just…don’t.”

Biting her lip to keep from smiling, Andy said,
“Okay.  I won’t.  That’s really sweet, by the way.”  Unable to resist, she laid a hand on his stomach.  “You’re sweet,” she added and shifted even closer.  Now her body touched his.  If he would just relax his posture, they would almost be snuggling.

“Andy
, I’m not ‘sweet’--I’m pissed.”

“About
what
?” she said, getting frustrated herself now.  But she was more than hopeful.  Whatever was bothering Tragan, he still hadn’t moved away from her. 

“Loo
k I’m just gonna be honest here,” he declared.  There was a determined set to his features, as he pushed off the counter--which brought him forward a little, causing her instinctively to back up.  “When I’m into a girl, I want her all for myself,” he said in that low, rumbling voice of his.  He backed her up another step, his dark, penetrating eyes burning into hers. “No other guy should be kissing her or touching her.”  Edging back, Andy felt strangely exhilarated as Tragan continued, possessively, “Or waking up next to her.  Only me.”

M
anaging a feeble nod, Andy wet her lips and was about to say something--or to grab his tee shirt and kiss him again--when abruptly, Tragan added: “So, if you think you’re going to string Brad and me along at the same time, let me tell you--”

“I broke up with Brad.”

The sudden interruption stopped him short.  In fact, Andy’s words seemed to hang in the scant space between them while Tragan reacted.  Surprise flickered across his face.  A beat passed before his brows lifted hopefully.  “You did?”

Andy
nodded. 

“When?”

“Tonight--as soon as I saw him.”

“W
ell…why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t get a chance!
” she replied truthfully.  “Obviously I was planning to mention it.”

“
I didn’t hear from you all day,” Tragan muttered.

“I’m sorry!”
Andy said, taking his hand.  “I left my phone here by accident.  You know how frazzled I was this morning.  I’m sure you remember. Anyway, I texted you when I got back.  Didn’t you get it?”

“No.”

“Oh…I’m sorry.  Maybe I should have called instead.  I did send it, though.  Want to see my phone?”

“No, I believe you,” Tragan
assured her, tugging her closer.  “Brad said he was taking you out for a romantic night.”

With
a slight shrug, Andy said, “Well, maybe that was his plan.  But I told him we needed to talk.”

Just then Tragan’s phone buzzed.  Reluctantly, it seemed, he
let go of Andy’s hand so he could grab it from his back pocket.  “Oh, it’s just Bardo,” he said dismissively and put it away.

“You can answer it; maybe it’s important.”

“No,” he said with half a laugh, “it’s not important.  I can guarantee you that.”

Two seconds later, his phone vibrated again.

“Man, why is he calling me?” Tragan muttered when he saw the screen.  This time he answered.  “What’s up, Bardo?  Nah, I’m home now.  I’m just gonna crash.  Yeah, too much tequila.  Yep.  All right, later.”  After he returned the phone to his pocket, he gave Andy a grin.  “See, told you, not important.  He was just letting me know that they’re heading to the Billiard Grill now.  I’m too tired, though.”

The fact that Tragan had passed on hanging out with his friends gave Andy pause.  He was tired and so was she; they shouldn’t try to force any kind of understanding right now.  This morning, admittedly, she’d freaked out--once the carnal, animalistic craze of sex with Tragan had settled--because she’d felt embarrassed and self-conscious about losing control like that, about clawing at him like a horny fiend, especially when she hadn’t broken up with Brad yet.  That was the worst part of it: the guilt she felt instantly, as soon as she and Tragan finished. 

Plus, she wasn’t exactly experienced when it came to mornings-after.  The only other man she’d slept with was Brad, and it had been within the context of a relationship.  With Tragan… well, they hadn’t established what this was going to be.  It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to try to settle that if Tragan’s evening consisted of “too much tequila.”

“You know what?” she said now.  “L
et’s start fresh tomorrow.”  Appearing confused, Tragan narrowed his eyes at her. “We’ve both had a really long day,” Andy continued.  “Especially you, helping your friend move--plus, you’ve had a few drinks.  I’m sure you’re exhausted, so why don’t you just get some sleep now?  We can talk tomorrow.”

Feeling quite reasonable and mature, though missing him already, Andy started to walk away.
  “Wait--hold up,” Tragan called after her.  The next thing she knew, he caught her hand and turned her back around.  Her breath hitched and her pulse quickened.  She was nervously unsure as to what might happen.  “So…you’re going to sleep now?” Tragan said.  Though the question was casual, his voice was low and intimate.  As usual his sexy, masculine voice seemed to thrum over all her nerve endings.

“No, I’ll p
robably read for a little while,” she replied, trying to keep her own voice neutral, and not betray the powerful sexual attraction pulsing through her.  Obviously Tragan knew she was attracted to him, but he might not realize how much she ached for him this very moment.  Or how she’d already mentally replayed their morning together over and over…

“C’mon, Andy,” he
said and began walking her backward again.  This time he seemed to be doing it deliberately.  “That’s not fair.  I’m supposed to go to my room and just fall asleep?  Knowing that you’re on the other side of the apartment…” As Tragan kept crowding her, Andy was inching back, feeling more breathless with each step.  “…in your bed,” he continued huskily, “lying there…
reading
?  Like that’s not supposed to torture me?” 

Suddenly her back hit the refrigerator. 

“
Torture
you?” Andy repeated with an incredulous, shaky laugh.  “Why, does reading turn you on?”

Loo
ming over her, mere inches away, Tragan gave a wolfish smile.  “Only when you’re doing it,” he said.  Then he brought one hand up to rest on the freezer.  Followed by the other--effectively blocking her in with his arms.

Andy’s heart began to race.  Her breathing became shallow, her mouth dry.  Tragan was so close, she could feel the heat emanating off his body.
  Of course she wanted to hook up with him again--she couldn’t deny that fact, least of all to herself--but she also wanted to keep a clear head about this.  Not rush into another spur-of-the-moment, mad-frenzy sexual encounter.  Yet… when he was standing this close to her, when she could feel his heat and inhale his scent, it was hard to think of anything else except having his hands on her and grinding against him.

Now, Tragan
leaned his head down, bringing his face closer to hers.  There was barely enough space between them for a sliver of moonlight.  In the darkness, hints of tequila wafted to Andy’s nose.  Impulsively, playfully, she asked, “By the way…are you drunk?”

“Nah,” Tragan murmured, dipping his head lower still.  “
Barely just a little,” was his nonsensical answer before he brushed his lips over hers.