expressions of deep relief and uncertainty.
“So that was Suzy,” he said to Darla as he got closer. “My—”
“Ex.” They said it in unison. Amy and Darla folded their arms over their chests simultaneously, shifting their weight onto one hip.
He was so fucked.
Chapter Five
Joe
In the movies, there’s this moment when someone—one of those dispensable characters who has a first name but no other meaningful qualities—sees something and has a change in expression that tells the audience that he or she is about to die, and that the entire trajectory of the movie’s story line is seconds away from changing.
Forever.
Irrevocably.
Meet that moment in my life. Right here. Right now.
Suzy made me want that bus to take me out, that sniper to put a shot through my brain, for that deus ex machina to rip into the scene and make the problem of Suzy, and the detonation of Darla, end with a bang that took me out of the picture.
Staying in the picture was a kind of torture.
Like being in Saw 12 .
Her entire being gave me hives. Clinical case of actual hives. A release of histamine in my body was the reaction to seeing those pert tits, those tight little calves that used to wrap around my waist as she squealed my name when I made her come, her manicured fingers with that perfect, sophisticated shade of tannish-pink that had a name, like Sun-kissed Lips, that my mother would know if Suzy were to meet her for lunch at a vegan restaurant in the Back Bay and they traded fashion tips.
And the nail polish would be cruelty-free, vegan, fair trade, and tested only on fully consenting disabled little people who were undergoing sex-change operations.
In Darfur.
Suzy’s eyes had gripped me the same way her lean, petite little cheerleader’s ass made my dick swell. Painfully and with total engagement.
I could feel Darla’s eyes burning through us, like Godzilla, except with less control. Trevor could keep her contained, but why? There was nothing to worry about. Nothing to be jealous about.
And that tiny detail where I never told her that I’d dumped Suzy a few months before I came to Ohio, and that it had taken the full strength of the Massachusetts court system to get her to stop stalking and sexting?
Details. Just details. I was going to tell her.
Eventually.
Eventually just crept up on me in an unexpected place and my mind drifted to the calendar…yep. Ten days after the last RO expired. Fuck. I’d been too busy with finals to think about it.
Those honey-brown eyes ate me up, the crazy that lived at the edges of her irises and multiplied like maggots sending a tingle of terror into the root of my cock.
Part of my desire to go into law was Suzy. No, seriously. You call the police a few times and then fill out restraining-order paperwork and you realize how important knowing your legal shit really is.
As long as we were still fucking and I showed up to her sorority parties, she didn’t care what I did with my time. But then my time became her time. Go more than five minutes without answering a text? I’d get eight voicemails in ten minutes.
Not answer the voicemails? All my friends would be simul-texted.
None of them answered? She’d start writing desperate wall posts on Facebook, like OMG, Joe’s hurt! He’s not answering his phone! If anyone’s seen him please get back 2 me!
My mom was whipped into a frenzy every. Fucking. Time.
And I was just whipped .
That alone wasn’t enough to stop slipping it to that piece of tanned Aphrodite who was the perfect complement to my arm, turning heads and gaining nods of approval. It was when she turned into Medusa that I realized it had to end.
“I’ll never give you back your ring,” Suzy had whispered as she hugged me just now in the airport, her voice sending tentacles of revulsion down my body, one entwining perfectly between my balls, squeezing. Breaking up with her had been my only option, and while I knew it would be hard, I needed to do it.
A