Free Until Alex by J. Nathan Page B

the true college experience with them. She’d never fit in my world, with my crowd. We didn’t play sports, we didn’t join frats, and we didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of us.
    If it wasn’t for my mother, I would ’ve never even been enrolled at SSC. As it was, I wasn’t even full-time. More like on the eight-year plan, getting credits here and there with no real direction. 
    Being around Alex made me forget who I was and what I was. I started believing things I had no business believing.
    My phone vibrated in my pocket, yanking me out of my head. 
    Before I could say a word, Remy’s voice burst through the phone. “Baxter’s at nine.”
    A night at Baxter’s was exactly what I needed to get my head screwed back on straight. Everything that went down with Alex had me feeling all messed up. Like I wasn’t myself. Like I’d grown a vagina. I needed a major dose of reality. My reality. “I’ll be there.”
    I tossed my phone onto the countertop and grabbed a bottle of Jack from my kitchen cabinet. Forgoing the glass, I leaned against my counter and took a nice long swig, letting the whiskey burn down my throat and take me to another place. A place I didn’t need to think. A place I didn’t need to justify my behavior. A place where Alex couldn’t turn me into a full-fledged bitch.
    At nine-thirty, I pulled into Baxter’s parking lot already feeling good. Harleys and trucks filled the lot, which meant a rowdy, shit-faced crowd playing pool and darts awaited me inside.
    I strolled through the door, scanning the room for Remy. The Monday night football game flashed on the flat screens around the room, making it jammed for a weeknight.
    Girls scoped me out from every corner. Their none-too-subtle gaping and lip-licking told me one thing. I had my pick. Sorority girl or bored housewife, I didn’t discriminate.
    Alex was shocked by the waitress at Jake’s. That was nothing. She would’ve been stunned by the methods girls used to get my attention.
    I hated to sound conceited because I wasn’t. I was a piece of trash with an attractive face and body. The face was all genetics. My mom had been gorgeous. But the body, I worked for. Lifting at the gym kept my pent-up aggression in check. And no, I didn’t grunt and groan at myself in the mirror.
    Before I even spotted Remy, two bottle blondes in tight shirts, painted-on jeans, and hooker heels made their way over to me, latching on to both my arms.
    “Hey, Hayden,” one purred.
    “Hey.” I glanced between the two, only seeing the orange lines around their necks where they didn’t blend in their makeup all the way. They must’ve had some hefty imperfections to cake on so much shit. Alex barely wore any. Her perfect face didn’t need it.
    Fu uuuck .
    I shook off the thought. Alex was not going to screw this up for me . By the time I got one or both of the girls home, makeup would be the last thing on my mind.
    “We were hoping you’d be here tonight,” one of them admitted, running her finger down my chest.
    I hated being touched. Not just because of my own fucked up reaction to it, but also the reminder of the cause of the reaction.
    But if the touching meant the girl would go home with me, I let it slide—gritting my teeth and bearing it. Besides, I was well on my way to utter oblivion. When that happened, the touching didn’t bother me as much.
    I flashed a lazy smile, the one that made my dimples dig in. “Oh, yeah?”
    Both girls nodded, using their come-hither gazes. I’d give them a C for effort.
    I spotted Remy by the bar, chatting up some of our boys. I headed over to him with the blondes on my tail.
    “What’s up?” I greeted them.
    Remy swiveled on his stool, eying the blondes then me. “No puppy tonight?”
    My brows pinched together. What the hell was he talking about?
    “The brunette. She was different. Not your usual type.”
    I didn’t lie to Remy. We both knew it. “No clue what you’re talking about.”
    Remy’s