Matched (32 page)

“Why, so I can swap stories with Oakley’s ex?” I grumble, reminding myself why I’m out here in the first place.

He looks at me now. “Is that who you’re avoiding, or is it Veronica?”

“What?” I laugh—a forced, transparent sound. “Why would I care about Cruz’s ex…if she’s even that?”

There’s a weighty pause. “Cruz doesn’t date much, per se. Veronica was chosen to be here because she’s the closest I could find to an ex.”

“So were they together or not?”
Shit.
Why am I asking this, and why is the cameraman standing there filming us?
It’s not like they can use the footage of Adam.

“Like I said, Cruz doesn’t date much.”

“Could you
be
less specific?”

His lip twitches. “Probably.”

I fall back into the hammock and cross my arms and legs. “Funny. So can I ask you another question?”

“Sure.”

“Why Jake? I had, like, three dates with him.” I close my eyes, getting comfortable again while I listen.

“The production crew called around, and he was the only guy they found. It seems Cruz isn’t the only one keeping to himself.”

I can’t think of a thing to say to that, and honestly, Jake
is
the closest thing to an ex I have aside from Oakley.

“Oakley’s been warned to stay away from Jake after the incident during the challenge,” Adam discloses slowly. “However, it appears they’ve made peace. Playing a game of pool as we speak.”

“Really?” My eyes fly open. “Oakley and Jake are getting along?” My voice drips with disbelief, ready to call his bluff.

“Yes. They had a short standoff until Jake answered a question for Oakley, and then they shook hands. Easy enough.”

“A question?” My eyes narrow, my body no longer relaxed.

“Oakley wanted to know how
well
he knew you.”

I shoot up and out furiously, the swinging hammock knocking into me before Adam grabs the edge to settle it. “He asked him if we—”

“Not in so many words, but yes.”

“Liar!” My head’s screaming louder than I am to lie back down and never go near wine again. “You’re just looking to start something, aren’t you? And here I thought you might actually have a soul.”

Adam has the nerve to chuckle. “Harlow, I may be many things, but a liar is not one of them. The soul thing is questionable, however.”

I roll my eyes, relaxing at his humor. “What did Jake tell him?”

“To mind his own business, but not stress about a couple of dates that ended at the door. Oakley seemed to understand, and was okay with that. They’ve now moved on to football stories and mocking Drew for being a gymnast.”

That’s all it took? Oakley’s not pissed that, when we were apart, I went out with and got to know another guy, enjoyed romantic evenings with him...he only cares if Jake fucked me or not? And why are they picking on Drew? He’s an athlete too—an Olympic one! There’s nothing wrong with being a gymnast.

“It’s different to some guys—especially those spending their nights getting close to the man’s ex.”

I must’ve asked all that aloud, but now I’m too confused as to whom he’s talking about to think properly. “What?” I throw out, exhausted and in need of some aspirin.

“Harlow, Callie and Oakley may just be friends, but he’s spent the last few hours shredding into her ex with every dumb joke he can think of. What do you think that means?”

My fingers rub my pounding temples. “Can you just leave now?”

“No, you need to come inside for a while. Then you can go to your bed and sleep. It’s not particularly safe out here overnight.”

I glance around, wondering what danger he’s referring to. “Fine, one hour. Happy? I’m sure there’s plenty of action in there already, so why the hell I have to endure a bunch of strangers is beyond me. I’m not gonna get in the cheerleader’s face, or Veronica’s—
especially
Veronica’s—so save your saliva.”

“I’m worried about Miranda.” He sighs. “She’s been drinking.”

Miranda? Oh, Jasmine…can’t say I blame her. “Haven’t we all?” I motion to my own bottle lying on the ground, the other half of its contents seemingly having spilled out at some point.

“Yes, but this is different.” He hesitates. “She’s drunk.”

I’m already started for the house when I stop and spin on my heel. “Drunk?”

He nods. “I tried to slow her down, but she’s avoiding me. She’s pissed off Ian and Brandi are here.”

I move back toward him. “Can’t blame her. Why’d you have to choose them to come?”

“Not my decision. I tried to find an ex of hers from outside the industry, but the network makes final calls. Ian and Brandi had a plane ticket before I had a say in the matter.”

“Can you at least make them leave?”

“All guests are spending the night. Little I can do without cause.”

“Right.”

“They’re not her friends, Harlow,” I hear him say when I start walking again. “They bring out a side of her I’d prefer to never see again. She’s not herself right now, and I can’t get her alone to make her see reason.” He lowers his voice. “I don’t want the world to see her like this.”

“Then why didn’t you stop her from drinking—you know, take away the alcohol?”

He looks away, his face hard.

“What’s wrong?” My anger and volume spike, my head tilting. “You finally realize you’ve been falling for a
porn
star, and you’re not liking how that looks? You don’t want to see
that
side of her?” I shake my head. Yet another disappointment. “There’s only one Jasmine—all or nothing!”

“Harlow.” It’s a low, rumbled warning that I choose to ignore, turning my back to him and stomping away.

“Can’t stay and chat. Got a friend to help!”

Drunk
isn’t even in the same dictionary as what I find when I step inside. First of all, half the house is drunk. Jasmine’s wobbling on her heels and attempting to ascend the stairs, the key to the Posh Suite in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other.

I race to her and shout over the blaring music, “Jasmine!” But I’m blocked by a group of the guests taking their sweet time to move. I push through them unapologetically, yelling out again as I see Jensen and Ian flank either side of her.

“We got her,” Jensen says, noticing me trying to shove my way closer. “No worries. I know how to take care of my girl, Harlow.” I watch them help her the rest of the way up, a dreadful knot of apprehension growing in my stomach.

At the top of the stairs, I spot Brandi with a bottle of wine shoved under her arm. She snatches the key from Jasmine and races off down the hall toward the suite.

This won’t be good. I don’t trust Jensen to look out for Jasmine, at all, but I’m only one person and not the strongest. I need…

I scan the room. Oakley is in fact playing pool with Jake, while Drew and Callie sit on the couch, watching them and talking. Miles and Cameron are in the kitchen with Court and Sophie, while Emma sits across the room, staring. Her body is wound tightly, and she looks ready to strike when Sophie leans over to Court, laughing and whispering something in his ear.

I spot Adam sitting on a chair outside by the pool, a crewmember handing him a stack of papers. Cruz sits beside him, talking about something, his eyes flickering to Emma constantly.

Jasmine’s our girl, and we take care of our own, so I march straight over to Callie. “Hey!” I shout when I’m only a few feet away. She’s up instantly.

“There you are. Where you been?” she asks, sipping her beer.

“Took a nap. Look, Jasmine needs help. You in?”

She looks mildly offended, already nodding her head. “Of course.” She searches the area and asks, “Where is she?”

I point to the stairs. “Up there—and not alone.”

Callie hears all I don’t say, already taking the stairs two at a time.

“No fucking way!” Callie gasps when we push open the unlocked door to the Posh Suite. It’s gorgeous and massive, with a California king four-poster bed in the center, lush cream carpet, and crisp white furnishings that scream high class.

What doesn’t are the sloppy moans and running water coming from behind the door on the side wall. It’s propped open halfway, and Callie and I both draw closer. We peek inside, then rear back just as quickly. I’d call it a bathroom, but it’s more an immense tiled room with a grand whirlpool built into the far corner.

“Shit,” Callie grumbles, pulling a hair tie from her pocket and yanking her hair up. “You ready? Can’t let her do this.”

I nod, unable to block out what we saw. Brandi straddling Ian’s lap in the tub, her dress already gone, Jensen stepping out of his pants to climb in and join and Jasmine, our sloppy-drunk but dear friend, sitting on the edge of the tub and slouched against the wall with Brandi leaning over, kissing up her leg.

“Yeah.” I suck in a lungful of air and fling the door all the way open, making an unannounced and slippery entrance. Water splashes over the tub’s ledge in one big wave when Jensen sinks in, causing bubbles to smother the floor. I brace myself with one hand on the wall, not wanting to fall on my ass, and shout, “Jasmine!”

Her glazed eyes struggle to pry open. She’s so out of it.

Jensen lurches back, creating another plunge of water that sprays the floor.

“Glad you decided to join us after all.” Brandi wiggles from between the two men surrounding her. Ian starts to groan in protest until he finally notices we’ve crashed the party.

“Jas, let’s go!” I bark at her, but she’s out again. Her eyes fall shut, and her head rolls to the side.

“Fuck yeah. Come here, sweet thing.” Ian is up on his knees, the extreme amount of bubbles the jets are creating barely covering his erection. He reaches out for me and I slip back, attempting to grasp at anything as I slide down to the floor, landing on my ass and smacking my back against the merciless tile.

“Fuck!” Callie screams, rushing at me as two hands snatch her around the waist and drag her into the tub. “Harlow!” she yelps, throwing her elbows back to get in a hit at Ian behind her, holding her hostage.

I sit up as fast as I can, my body revolting. I notice Jasmine’s now hunched over, completely passed out. Jensen’s laughing at the show of Callie fighting to break free from Ian’s clutches, her entire body immersed in the water.

“You ready for a real man?” Ian taunts her, stroking a finger down her neck.

“Get your hands off me!” Callie shoves harder and he finally releases her, chuckling.

“Sorry, hot stuff.” Ian raises defensive hands. “Just thought you wanted to play too.” He’s still grinning and staring at her breasts, which are showing through her soaked white top.

“You’re a piece of shit!” Callie howls, attempting to climb over the ledge.

“Ah, my bad,” Ian snickers. “Let me make it up to you.”

“Just let her go.” Brandi pouts.

Callie’s halfway out of the tub when I call for her. “I’m coming!” I wince from the pain that scorches up my back, attempting to stand on the slippery floor. But before I can make it to my feet, I see forceful legs stride across the room as if not in a flood. In no time, Callie’s snatched the rest of the way out of the tub effortlessly.

“I got her.” Oakley’s there, holding Callie around the waist and guiding her back to dry carpet. He starts to turn back for me but sees I’ve already crawled my way out, standing when I reach the dry surface.

His attention returns to Callie. “You okay?” he asks her, sweeping a long, wet strand of hair from her cheek.

She nods, a mix of appreciation, adoration, and what looks like guilt in her eyes when they cut my way. “Thanks,” is all she says before backing away and disappearing into the hall.

There’s no denying what I just saw—the worry for her on his face—but that’s not what matters right now. I rush to the bed, tug off the comforter, and drag it into the bathroom, ignoring Oakley’s scowl.

Jensen is kissing Brandi outside the tub, and Ian’s climbing out to join them, oblivious to my return. Guess that’s part of the adult industry…blocking out what’s going on around you.

With a makeshift rug created to safely cross the floor on, I rush in and freeze when I hear a violent roar.

“Move the FUCK out of the way!”

One glance back reveals it’s not directed at me. Only Oakley and a wide-eyed cameraman are standing in the suite, with their attention focused back at whatever ruckus is happening in the hallway. But my only priority is Jasmine. I’m hoping she’s just passed out and not actually suffering from alcohol poisoning.

I’m suddenly lifted, turned, and set back in the suite by Oakley. He’s moving me out of the way for Adam, who managed to push his way into the room that’s now blocked from most of the cast and guests, all watching from the hall.

I say nothing. I’m thankful Adam’s here, but terrified at the fire in his eyes and impenetrable rage framing his body as he enters the bathroom.

“Jasmine…” I move to go after her, but Oakley steps in front of me.

“He’s got her.” Oakley blocks my line of vision, but I hear Adam roar, “You son of a bitch!” then the slam of something hard. I peek around Oakley to see Jensen crumple to the floor. Adam’s fist is driving downward over and over again, and Ian’s unable to pull him off.