Puck Buddies Page 7

  “No.” She points at the blue lights strung up over the bar. “They look like jelly fish.”

  “Okay, those are cool.”

  “Right. This isn’t the worst PR gig you’ve had. Not even close. Maybe we can stay and have some fun, and you can promise to be fun.” She glances around the bar, waving after a second. “He’s here.”

  “Great.” I don’t even bother to look in his direction. The shitty expression I have the moment she says it will only start something I always end up regretting. I have never told her I hate him. I’ve told her she’s worth more. I’ve told her he’s not that into her. I’ve forced her to watch He’s Just Not That Into You, but she doesn’t see it. Their off-and-on-again thing is annoying, and I had desperately hoped school would be enough to make her see there are other boys in the world, but she went to community college. There aren’t other boys at community college.

  No doubt part of the reason her mother agreed to it.

  “I’m gonna go say hi.” She gets up, leaving me alone.

  “Whatever.” I don’t even lift my phone to pretend I’m not uncomfortable. I just sit in my discomfort and watch the club move like a wave. It’s packed with all the usual suspects: The rich kids who act like they can’t possibly wait to get out of here or to do their next line. I fit into that category. The people who are genuinely fun and like partying in clubs. And the hipsters with their expensive brand-name hippie-styled clothes and man buns.

  Dear God, I hate the man bun. There was a GIF of one guy putting his hair up into the man bun that was hot. But that beefy bro could have been hot doing just about anything.

  The rest of the rat-faced male populace has used the man bun and beard to hide their hideousness.

  At least the DJ is actually talented and the decor is perfect. You get the feeling you’ve entered another world. An underwater world. Even I can’t hate on that.

  “What are you doing all alone?” Carson gives me a cheeky grin.

  “I’m not technically alone. Nat’s over there”—I point—“with William.”

  “Cool.” He leans in, speaking low, “You look hot.”

  “You look high.”

  He laughs. “I am. As fuck. Some hipster chick just slipped me something on the dance floor with a kiss. It was like a scene from an early DiCaprio movie.” He slides into the seat next to me, coming too close for comfort. “And I have something to tell you.” His eyes dart to Nat and William the Turd. “It’s wrong but I can’t stand knowing it alone. I saw him, Will, two weeks ago with some brunette. They were all over each other on a deck at a penthouse party.”

  “Two weeks ago?”

  “Yeah.” He nods. “I wouldn’t normally betray bros before hos, but Nat’s the nicest of us all. She deserves better than Fairfield.”

  “Agreed. However, two weeks ago they were broken up, had been for a while in fact. They got into a fight on a yacht and ended the relationship in June. I had hoped it was for real this time but now they’re back on. Got back together last week.”

  “I wish she would see him for the dipshit he is.” Carson wrinkles his nose. “I mean, he’s a friend but he’s an asshole.”

  “Oh, me too.”

  “You wanna dance?” He takes my wine and sips it.

  “Sure.” I shrug. “Why not?”

  The song changes to a mix we both clearly love because we shoot up from our chairs and hurry to the dance floor. The DJ mixes Drake with Rihanna. It’s weird and awesome. Closing my eyes and moving to the flow of the beat strips my worries away.

  Carson is the best dancer I know.

  Our arms go up at the same moment and then as the song breaks we both slow, moving like we might have taken a little Molly. I suspect that’s what he got from kissing the hipster chick. I don’t do Molly. I don’t do drugs. I tried a couple of times but I get paranoid.

  The DJ keeps us here, paused in the moments between the beat dropping.

  When it does, the entire club comes to life, bursting like a wave swelling on the sea.

  I love stoned people. They just dance better, they try harder.

  When the song ends I forget I didn’t want to be here and dance more. After a few songs Carson drags me to the bar to slam shots. I scan the room for Nat, stopping when I see she’s having a serious moment in the corner with William.

  “Oh shit.” I suck back another shot and try to ignore the scrap going on.

  “Looks like trouble in paradise again.”

  “The honeymoon period is getting shorter and shorter with them.”

  Carson lifts his hand. “Two more—”

  “Bellevue!” A familiar voice shouting his name cuts him off.

  We both turn to find Matt-fucking-Brimstone looking about as hot as he possibly can. His dark-green eyes narrow when he sees me but it doesn’t stop the butterflies in me, not even when he sneers. “Ms. Ford. I thought this place would be too pedestrian for you.” He’s such a jerk. A hot jerk.

  “Brimstone.” I roll my eyes and lift my fingers at the bartender. “And make that two more.”

  Carson laughs. “I was just getting bored. Shall I clear a space for the moment she calls you blue collar again?” He leans forward, chuckling harder.

  “You know I don’t hit girls.” Matt’s eyes blaze pure hatred at me, but I lift my favorite finger, flashing him a grin.

  “I could take you,” I mock him.

  Carson nods. “I believe that. She would cheat and you would fight like a gentleman.”

  “Gentleman, my ass.” I roll my eyes and give Carson a glare. “He’s a big fat liar. How long would you say he’s known me?”

  “I don’t know, years? His dad’s a member of the Pine Valley Club with our dads. How long Brimstone, a decade? Longer?”

  Matt’s eyes fill with humor. “Longer.”

  “And that right there is the issue.” Matt doesn’t shy away from the obvious shade I’m throwing down. “I don’t like liars.”

  “I never lied to you, Sami.”

  I ignore him until the shots arrive and then I drink all four back to back, pretending all the hate I harbor is because he lied to me and acted like he didn’t know me. The reality has something to do with embarrassment I don’t want to face either.

  “Good to see you’re still reckless.”

  “Well, I have full permission to get trashed now. I have my mule to carry me home.” I wink back at his sardonic expression and slap him on his thick arm.

  “My days as your mule are over, Your Highness.” He speaks through a clenched jaw.

  “This is getting good. Call him a blue-collar bitch and then we can all go dance.” Carson steals the next shot that arrives.

  “Blue collar is a compliment for what he actually is.” I look right into Matt’s eyes when I say it.

  “Sort of like being called “lady” is for you.” He bows slightly before walking away.

  My jaw drops.

  “You’ve gotten worse in the years since you’ve been near each other. Have you seen him or is your grudge-holding skill really at ninja?” Carson hands me another drink.

  “I haven’t seen him.” I don’t say that I’ve watched him get drafted to New York on TV. I’ve never watched a moment of hockey, but I found myself strangely curious about the fact he was moving here to play.

  “When did he lie to you? ‘Cause it seems to me you’re just being a bitch. I mean, he fucking carried both of you home and you insulted him in front of your dad while Nat puked on him. Did he kill your dog when he dropped you off?”

  “I just don’t like him,” I snarl at Carson.

  “Oh snap.” He lifts his hand to his lips, laughing at me. “You’re embarrassed and can’t apologize like a big girl. So now what? He’s dead to you? Mature, Sami,” Carson scolds and leaves me there at the bar alone.

  “Hey, are you Sami Ford?” a guy next to me asks the moment I’m alone.

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “Dude, you look so much like her.” He grins and bli
nks lazily, drunk as hell.

  “I get that a lot.” I turn and risk strolling over to Nat.

  William gets his smug grin on his face when I’m near them. “Hey, how’s it going? How’s Columbia?”

  “Great.” I don’t ask him about school because I honestly don’t have a single shit to give about him.

  “Is your family headed for Martha’s for the Labor Day weekend?”

  “Of course,” I reply blankly.

  “I guess I’ll see you there.”

  “Us.” I nod my head at Nat who’s upset about something. “Nat’s my plus one.”

  “I thought you couldn’t come?” He turns his head to her.

  “You didn’t ask me.” She’s annoyed about something other than Martha’s Vineyard.

  “I think our moms spoke about it. Your mom said you were busy.” He tries to still be casual about it, regardless of how douchie it looks that his mom continues to arrange his playdates, and he can’t just man up and ask his girlfriend out on his own.

  “Oh. She didn’t tell me you wanted me to go. Maybe that was when we were broken up.” She says it pointedly. “But Sami’s right, I’m going to the party with her.” Nat gestures toward the bar. “Can we go get a drink?”

  “I can get it,” William offers, likely because I’m here.

  “No, that’s cool.” I grab Nat’s arm and pull her away from him. When we’re at the middle of the bar I lean in close to her ear. “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s got something going on the weekend in September we were supposed to go away. We’ve been planning it for months and now he’s busy. He said when we broke up last time he assumed all plans were canceled.” She sighs. “I guess that’s fair. I never thought about it like that.”

  Fire burns inside me. I square off to just lambaste her with the truth—the ugly horrid truth—that I fucking hate him and he’s a tool. But the moment I part my lips Carson comes over, nudging her.

  “Nat, come dance with me. Sami’s being a whore.”

  “What?” I glare.

  “You’re being mean to poor Brimstone for no reason. That’s whorish behavior. And I want to dance.”

  “Brimstone? Who’s that?” Nat questions.

  “Nat, you must recall that poor guy you barfed on years ago.” Carson’s eyes glow with mischief.

  “He’s here?” Nat’s jaw drops as Carson nods. “Oh my God. That guy who carried us home? You saw him?” She turns around to search the crowded club. “Where?”

  “There.” Carson points.

  “We have to go apologize. I still don’t get why you were so mean to him. His parents are super rich and his mom is like royalty, and you treated him as if he was some slob on the streets and I puked on him.” Nat drags me with her. I try to pull back, but she’s scrappy for such a tiny thing. She drags me right to the crowd of beefy guys Matt’s with where he’s leaning against a table chatting with a herd of women. She pushes past the girls, earning us sneers, and goes directly to Matt. “Hey, we’ve never formally been introduced.”

  “I remember you just fine.” He sounds as excited to see her as he was to see me.

  “We want to apologize. And thank you.” She glances back at me. “We were assholes and you were so nice to walk us home.”

  “Carry.” He smiles back, losing the attitude. No doubt succumbing to her beautiful blonde angel act. Only with her it isn’t an act. She’s genuinely sweet. “And it was my pleasure.” His eyes don’t even flicker in my direction.

  “Right, of course. Carry. I’m so ashamed. I can’t believe I got that drunk. And you kept us out of the papers. You saved my life. You don’t even know.” She lets go of me and puts her hand forward. “Anyway, I’m Natalie Banks.”

  “Matt Brimley.” He takes it and shakes her hand.

  “Lovely to meet you.”

  “You as well.” His eyes dart to mine after a moment. His smug grin comes back and my stomach tightens. He looks like he’s waiting for something.

  But I don’t offer anything. If he thinks I’m kissing his boots after he lied when he pretended not to know me, he’s nuts. He’s an ass who owed me more than just getting me home.

  “Apologize.” Nat glares at me.

  “Absolutely not. You might be fooled by this, but I’m not.” I point a long finger in his face. “I see you.”

  I turn to walk away, but he grabs my hand and turns me around. “Just say sorry and we can be friends. Honestly, what’s your problem?”

  Carson and the guys with them all laugh and make a face like Matt better watch himself with me.

  “You!” I jerk free. Nat calls me from the crowd behind us but I keep walking. I need more shots.

  Chapter Seven

  Third chance

  Matt

  She sucks back another shot and shudders, yet again. She has to be the worst drinker I’ve ever seen. She always shudders like she might puke.

  But she’s easily the hottest one too. Even making that weird face from the taste of the booze, she is sexy.

  Watching her makes me think things. What I need to remember is the way she acted, like a typical rich asshole. Or better yet, keeps acting. Had she apologized, everything would be different. But she is so stubborn.

  Rich girls are such bitches and she is the queen bee.

  And hot or not, twenty years from now she’ll be my mother, and hers. Stuck up and living this bullshit existence where they can’t see just how fake it all is. She’ll be married to whoever her dad feels is the right choice for the family. She’ll have affairs and take trips, and he’ll work nonstop but in secret be banging the girl he loved when he was seventeen.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her hate anyone, except Will.” Carson pulls me from my silent rant. “But no one who’s honest with themselves likes Will. He’s kind of a twat.” He continues to rattle on next to me, “Sami usually gets along with everyone. You my friend, are special. She’s one of those girls who just does what she does, not giving much thought to other people. For her to focus actual hate is crazy.”

  Sami leans on the bar, laughing with the guy next to her and turning her back on us. She places a hand on her hip, pushing her ass out a bit. In her outfit I can easily imagine exactly how she looks all the way up the back of her body. Thanks to the YouTube video Drew made of her pouring beer on her boobs, I can imagine the front too.

  She’s fucking perfect.

  Well, if she had a filter and some manners she would be.

  “Dude.”

  I glance at Carson. “What?”

  “What is with you two? Did you do something to her? She hates you and you stare every time you see her.”

  “What do you mean?” I don’t know the answer to the question. I’m not sure I ever did anything to her.

  “There’s something there, and I’m not an idiot. What happened?”

  “We kissed once a million years ago. It was whatever. Nothing that deserves her always being pissed at me. Or not apologizing for being a complete bitch. The blonde apologized. I’m totally over it. But Sami was wrong and she can’t own that.”

  “You kissed Sami Ford?”

  “What, it’s not a club.”

  “It kinda is a club.”

  “Not one I want in.” Again my eyes wander over her way.

  “Too late, you’re in now. Card-carrying member. Too bad she hates you more than she hates anyone, maybe even Fairfield.”

  “The dislike between us is mutual. I think she’s a snob and she thinks I’m an ass. End of file.”

  “And yet you still want her.” He’s wrong.

  “No. Trust me there’s nothing but contempt.”

  “Okay,” Carson mocks. “Maybe try selling that when you’ve managed to stop giving her that look.” He pats me on the arm and strolls into the crowd just as Laramie comes over and sits next to me.

  “Hey, man. Where’s Brady?”

  “He didn’t make it. He’s got some MILF on the line and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to intr
oduce her to Mr. Clinton.”

  “He’s nasty.” We laugh but I can’t tell if Laramie thinks it gross or not. I know I do. But Brady has his thing.

  “He really is.”

  “Whatcha staring at?”

  “Nothing.”

  His eyes follow mine because as much as I hate it, Carson’s right. I can’t stop staring at her. “Ohhh, Sami Ford again. She’s hot, eh?” He nods his head. “I was gonna ask you if you mind introducing us, since you already rode that train, but I’m starting to think you didn’t get off at the station. You have a thing for her, eh?” He cracks a grin and I want to punch off his face.

  “We don’t have a thing. She just owes me an apology, that’s all.”

  “Well, go get it, brother. She owes you. You clearly need closure on this subject. Sometimes closure is just a dirty session of hate fucking, don’t rule that out.” Laramie laughs and slaps me on the back but he doesn’t move. He’s waiting for me to go demand my apology.

  And why shouldn’t I get one?

  It would fix all the awkward tension between us.

  She acted crazy.

  Fuck her.

  I finish my beer and walk her way, cutting right in where the other guy is standing. “Hi.” I give the grin, the one that always makes her sigh.

  “Excuse me.” The guy who was chatting her up tries to tap me on the shoulder.

  “What?” I turn and glare at him. He lifts his hands and struts off. “Not worth it.”

  “What do you want?” she snarls as I glance back at her.

  Seeing that rage, I can’t help but crack a bigger smile. “I just came to see if you wanna apologize in private, it’s easier. I know how proud you are, so I thought I’d be the bigger man here and give you a mulligan.”

  “A mulligan?” Her jaw drops. “Are you fucking kidding me? You pretended not to know me in London, you kissed me, and then when I saw you again you pretended like we’d never met. You’re some head-gaming psycho and I want no part in that.”

  “You were dating Drew. He’s a friend. I knew you were dating him when we kissed. It wasn’t a head game. It was me being a bad friend and feeling guilty for it.”

  “He’s your friend? He’s an asshole. Now I have a bigger reason not to like you.”