The Trouble With Before (6 page)

Cold. Hearted. Bitch.

I remind myself that he thinks I’m scum and couldn’t care less about me anymore, which makes me wonder why he’s here. How did he even find me? My defenses rise, and I cross my arms and summon all the anger I felt toward him when he basically told me to go to hell. I remind myself that he judged me and wrote me off over
one
mistake—okay, a really big mistake. But after he cut me off, I didn’t have anyone. I lost all of my support system in less than a week, and he knew that. How dare he stand here with a holier-than-thou, pissed-to-shit look on his face?

“What are you doing here?” I ask, anger radiating from my voice.

He rolls his eyes and pushes past me, letting out a sound somewhere between annoyed and relieved. I watch him look around the room as if he never kicked me out of his life.

“Hello! What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, confused, impatient, and starting to feel the wine a little more than usual.

“You don’t look dead or like you’ve killed anyone.”

The irritated sarcasm that used to really annoy me is apparent in his voice. He’s not even facing me.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, grabbing his arm to stop him from stalking around my hotel room.

He snatches it from me and looks at me with a look in his eye that makes me almost shiver. If he were anyone else, I’d step back, intimidated, but I know Aidan too well for that. If I were a guy, it’d be totally different—he’s done two tours in Iraq and used to be a Golden Gloves boxing champ, so I know he could literally destroy me—but since I’m not, the only blows he’ll give me are his arrogant, judgmental stares. In all honesty, I’d prefer a punch.

Once upon a time, we were kindred spirits, the two screw-ups, and it really sucks that I’ve screwed up so badly that even Aidan looks at me as if I’m shit. His demeanor goes from cold to concerned as his eyes sweep over me.

“You look like shit.” His voice loses a few degrees of anger.

I haven’t showered in about two days. My hair and face is an oily, sticky mess, and I probably smell like the burritos and wine I’ve binged on for the past few days.

“So do you,” I retort, but it’s obviously a lie.

He looks even better than the last time I saw him. He has a five o’clock shadow, and it gives him more of a rugged, mature look than he has bare-faced. His lips are pressed tightly together, revealing the two large dimples on each side of his face. Those dimples used to convince girls in high school he was the all-American boy, innocent and charming when he was anything but.

He chuckles at me in disbelief. He’s always been arrogant, and I realize how disgusting my own mouth tastes.

“Ms. Red thought you might have been in trouble,” he answers pointedly, and my heart drops.

I vaguely remember calling her the night after Brett kicked me out. I’d been drinking the really good bottle of wine I’d swiped from Brett’s house. Even in my alcohol-induced state, I knew calling her was a bad idea, but now I realize how pathetic Aidan must think I am for calling her to throw myself a pity party.

My cheeks are on fire. I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my temples. Shit, what did I tell her? I glue my eyes to my feet and try to think how to get myself out of this. “I-I didn’t mean to inconvenience anyone.”

“Well, that’s exactly what you did. Why did you call and do that to her after everything . . . don’t you think she’s had enough bullshit from you?” His voice feels like shards of glass ripping at my skin.

“It was really stupid, and I’m sorry,” I shout, and he shakes his head.

“Aren’t you ever tired of being sorry?” he asks irately.

I open my mouth to scream at him, to tell him that he’s a fucking asshole for coming all the way here just to bitch me out and I just can’t deal with him now, but instead of obscenities streaming from my mouth, a strangled shriek comes from it. I can no longer see Aidan because my eyes are blurry with tears. I want to wipe them away, but I don’t want to get a clear picture of him seeing me cry. Instead, I head to the bathroom and slam the door behind me.

LISA IS THE
only person who can make me feel like a complete jerk with just a glance. I’ve had plenty of women come in and out of my life: one-night stands that I admit I wasn’t exactly a gentleman with, girls I dated who would scream at me and tell me I was a complete asshole, and even Hillary says I’m the biggest jerk she’s ever met, which I highly doubt since she practically held me hostage in the ring section of the jewelry store. But Lisa always had a knack for knowing exactly what to say or do to get to me. It could come from years and years of us being friends or . . . what’s that word for girls who are friends but kind of hate each other? Shit, frenemies. That’s probably a better word for us. We were each other’s sparring partners. I think it came down to us being too much alike. My grams used to say iron sharpens iron, and we were cut from the same cloth.

Lisa was the one to call me on my shit, and I’d call her on hers. We’d both throw insults at each other, but it was mostly in good fun. Or boredom. Mostly boredom and annoyance. When we got really mad at each other—usually over stupid things—we both knew what to say to dent the other’s feelings. But if it came down to it, we’d have each other’s back. I’ve never questioned if she’d be there if I really needed her, and when she revealed one of her deepest, darkest secrets, something that she knew would tear my other best friend’s world apart, she knew that as much as we fought, I’d help her figure it out. If there was any way for us to get through what she did, I’d try to help us all pull through it.

When the bomb did explode, I was there for her. Even though I couldn’t understand how she could sleep with her best friend’s dad, I stuck by her, and when she revealed she had been pregnant and had a secret child with him, I knew our three musketeer act of her, Chris, and me would be over and she’d need me. Just because she didn’t have anyone else really.

Chris had grown up in the perfect home with a great mom and dad and lots of friends. Teachers loved him, guys wanted to be his friend, and girls wanted to be his girlfriend.

For Lisa and me, it was different. Lisa had no clue where her dad was, her mother might as well have been invisible, and her grandparents had been cut off from her. My mom’s mind had left before she did, my dad had checked out after his stint in the marines, and his best friend was Jim Beam. My grandmother stepped in as much as she could, so if it wasn’t for her, I don’t know where I’d be . . . but Lisa didn’t even have that
one
person to depend on. So in a way, we were kindred spirits. Even though I was pissed at her for what she had done, I knew without a doubt if the shoe was on the other foot, she’d be there for me. I wouldn’t have left her side, no matter how mad Chris was, but then she told me that she was ditching her kid and moving to California to find herself.

After that, I couldn’t do it anymore.

I was done.

I finally realized how fucking selfish she was and probably always would be, because who does that? Who just drops off a kid on a dad they’ve never known? No decent person could abandon their kid like that. I told myself that the Lisa I had known died that day.

Even on the plane ride here after deciding to come, I told myself I’d just see if she was alive and not in danger or anything and I’d leave right after. I’d see if California girls were really better than girls everywhere else.

When I saw her, all my anger and bitterness swelled up, circling around like a tornado . . . until I noticed how puffy her eyes were, how the light in them had dimmed. I knew that something wasn’t right, and my anger blew out like a windstorm was in the room with us. Lisa has been a lot of things and gone through a lot of crap, but she’s never looked this terrible. Whatever happened to put her in a funk like this had to be bad.

That’s why I’ve been sitting here, waiting for her to come out of the bathroom. It’s been about an hour, because a whole episode of
Law and Order
has come and gone. I can’t believe she started crying. That really caught me off guard. Lisa’s never cried over anything I’ve said to her. When I told her that she was a selfish bitch and to pretty much erase me from her life, she shot back that she didn’t need me in her life and I was a self-righteous dick. I half-expect her to scream from behind the door at me to get the hell out and that she doesn’t need any of our pity and maybe even throw a bucket of water at me . . . well, that’s more Hillary’s style than Lisa’s. But I don’t expect to hear whimpering when I put my ear to the door.

Ms. Red’s words play in my head.
She’s hurting.

“What’d you get yourself into now, Leese?” I mutter. I take the phone out of my pocket and see a text from Chris’s wife Lauren, the other half of Ms. Red’s save-Lisa coalition.

How are things going? Find her?

I text back, “Really fucking bad . . .” but I erase it. Women make the Iraqi desert look like a day at Chuck E. Cheese.

Yeah. I’m handling it.

I approach the door again. This time I hear water running. I’m assuming she’s in the shower or running a bath or something. Thank God, because she looked like hell.

The room looks like a disaster zone. She has three huge open suitcases, and it looks as though everything in them has been tossed around the room. A bunch of food wrappers overflow the garbage can. I rummage through the can and see three empty wine bottles. Lisa’s never been a wine-drinking kind of girl. I spot a big unopened bottle of Jack Daniels. It’s really weird that she’d be drinking wine when she has a bottle of perfectly good alcohol available, especially if she’s in such a drinking mood.

My phone vibrates again. It’s another text from Lauren.

It may help to be a good listener more than a bad talker.

I get another text that says.

Well said

Then I realize that Lauren, Ms. Red, and I are in a group chat.

Not my idea of a threesome.

I let out a deep breath before cleaning up the room. I was a complete slob until I joined the army—that knocks the sloppiness right out of you. In less than a half an hour, I’ve folded her clothes and put them into her suitcases. I can’t help noticing all the sexy little thongs and boy shorts she has. Then I remember how long it’s been since I’ve had sex. Three weeks is a record for me since I’ve been back home, and going through all this sexy girly stuff isn’t helping. I end up throwing the rest of her things in the last suitcase.

I make her bed and get rid of all the trash, and by the time I’m done, I hear the water turn off in her bathroom. The door opens almost slowly. I see her peep around it before she closes it again.

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Come on, Leese, I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.”

The door swings open and she emerges, the hot air pouring from the bathroom. She has a towel wrapped around her and quickly walks to her suitcase. She starts to riffle through it.

“You went through my things?” she asks in an irritated tone.

“I was cleaning up the pigsty you’ve been living in,” I correct her.

She’s crouched over, her long blond hair cascading down her small back. And the towel is barely covering her ass, which has gotten a lot bigger since I last saw her, but it’s not flabby and wide but toned and round like a volleyball player.

“Don’t be a pervert,” she says, tossing a knowing look my way.

I hide a laugh, and just like that, it’s almost as though we’re back in high school. We used to swim in the pond by Chris’s house, and I always wanted to catch a glimpse of her boobs. She grabs a T-shirt, drops her towel, and pulls the shirt over her head. I swallow hard. Lisa’s definitely grown up since the last time I saw her naked, even though I can’t see the front of her. Her back’s long and smooth, only curving right before her ass pokes it. It’s round, firm, and perfect, and for a minute, I forget why I’m here.

“Look, I’m sorry to scare Ms. Scott.”

“Huh?” I ask.

She tosses the wet towel at me. “God, Aidan, you’ve screwed, what, a thousand girls and you get distracted by a little ass? I guess you haven’t changed much.” She shoots me a disgusted glare, but I can see a small grin behind it.