She rears up, disgust turning her face into an ugly mask. “Why not? You gay or what?”
“What?” I sit up, practically shove her off my lap. She rolls off but like a cat, lands on her feet. “I turn down a blowjob and suddenly I’m gay?”
“Why else would you not want a blowjob from me? I thought we had a connection.”
Blowing out a harsh breath, I shake my head, which makes it spin harder. Fucking vodka. It’ll be the death of me. “I’m sorry, Audrey. I’m just—sometimes I get whiskey dick.”
It’s never happened. But what she doesn’t know doesn’t hurt her.
Audrey rests her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes. “Men. You’re all the same. Can’t even believe you won’t take a free blowjob.” She shoves at my shoulder and I fall back onto the lounger like a wobbly dumbass. With a laugh she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving the pool area and headed back to the bar, I wouldn’t doubt.
I should follow her lead. Well, not follow her literally but go get another drink. Drown my sorrows in booze so I can kill the memories. So I don’t have to remember the way Lucy looked two nights ago. The scent of her skin, her hair, how she felt in my arms, the taste of her lips, the extra soft skin of her breasts, just above the lace of her bra. Fuck.
Fuck.
My cock comes alive at the thought of her. No whiskey dick here. More like Lucy dick.
Clearly I’ve lost my mind.
Staggering to my feet, I mentally tell myself to get my shit together and make my way back inside. I find my parents in the front lobby, looking ready to leave. “There you are!” Mom exclaims, rushing toward me, her pink lips curved into a frown. Her disappointment hits me like a smack in the face and I brace myself for the scolding.
Christ, what am I? Ten?
Mom sends me a look before she leans in close and whispers in my ear, “Where in the world is Audrey?”
I shrug and shift away from her. I don’t need her smelling me. She’s like a blood hound. “I dunno.”
Her disapproval radiates though she doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t have to. When she’s angry, my mother is terrifying. Just ask Syd.
Just ask me.
I follow after Mom like I just got caught breaking the rules and I’m in big trouble. About to get grounded. Dad is talking to his friend, both of them laughing loudly as they slap each other on the back. We wait out front for the car to be brought around and when it is, I climb into the back seat and brace myself for the lecture.
It comes quick. We’re not even off the country club property yet.
“You’re drunk.”
“Not as much as I’d like to be,” I mutter.
“You drink too much,” Mom counters, her voice like ice.
I shrug. “So do you and Dad.”
“We’re adults. Besides, we only drink socially.”
“Hey, guess what? I’m an adult too, and I love to drink while in social situations. Guess I’m privileged just like you,” I retort, not even caring if I piss her off or not. I’m that drunk.
That stupid.
She turns around to glare at me. “You were rather rude toward Audrey during dinner.”
That’s hilarious. If anyone was rude, it was Audrey, what with the way she kept grabbing my crotch. Girl has sex on the brain. Nothing wrong with that. Usually I’m all for it but not this time around. Not when I have Lucy on the brain.
“How was I rude? I spent the entire dinner with her.” I lean my head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. I don’t know how many times I’ve received this sort of lecture. You think I’d grown used to it by now.
But I haven’t. It just pisses me off, how she treats me like a kid. They both do this. I hate it. They treat Sydney the same way but hell, at least she still lives at home. Poor thing has an extra year too considering she has to go to community college for two semesters. I feel sorry for her.
I feel sorry for the both of us.
“You disappeared with her and when I find you, you’re not with her anymore! What happened, did you lose her? How do you even know she’s safe? What sort of gentleman are you?”
Her constant questions make my head hurt. Like she gives a shit about Audrey. More like she’s afraid Audrey’s going to tell her parents what a shit I am and that’ll reflect badly on them. “I saw her in the bar before we left the country club, Mother.” I lift my head to look at her but thank God, she’s staring straight ahead and not at me. “So don’t try and make me feel bad for ditching her. She’s fine.”
“Hmm.” Mom’s silent for a moment and the quiet is like a blessing. I close my eyes, enjoying the sound of nothing but my dad hitting the gas or pressing the brake when she speaks once more. “Audrey’s not the one for you.”
I don’t bother arguing with her. None of them are for me. None of them will ever be for me. I’d rather live alone and never give my mom grandkids than go along with her choices. She wants to map out my entire future, right down to the woman I marry.
I won’t let her. I refuse. And she hates it. What would she do if I brought home a girl she would totally disapprove of? Mom would flip the fuck out, that’s what.
A thought occurs to me. Lucy would make her flip out. Yeah, she’s a rich girl like all the rest of the people who live in that community we’re staying in, but she’s what Mom would label as new money. AKA trashy. What with the extra modern house (so nontraditional), the absent father who divorced her poor mother (the word divorce makes Mom shudder) and her nonwhite heritage (Mom wishes I would marry a direct descendent of the Mayflower I swear), my parents would hate Lucy on sight. Not that I’m ever going to see her again. Not like that. I probably blew it.