flashback | present
The sun beats down relentlessly as a sheen layer of sweat accumulates atop my pale skin, which has reddened significantly this week. Rumblings of car engines and honking punctuate the air as I tip my sunglasses further up the bridge of my nose. I peer up and down the street, waiting for my friends and Parker to make an appearance.
Parker. Just the thought of him brings a sour taste to my mouth. Yesterday, as retaliation for the strip club show, he sent fermented fish to my room. Despite the many showers, the wretched smell still lingered on my skin and clothes. I'm going to kill him. I'm just plotting the most accessible and least complicated way.
I'm not going to let him have the last say in this little series of tug-of-war pranks we have going on.
My stomach grumbles under the presence of hunger, eyeing the restaurant entrance and then to the street. Where is everyone? It's understandable if maybe one or two of them were late, but missing all seven is absurd.
Mia and Noah are off on their date, filled with museums and exhibit visits for the day, as the rest of us agreed to meet for lunch. And while the others decided to check out the arcades, I split off to get Ava a gift to surprise her for her spring showcase. Chase offered to come along, but I knew how tired he was of shopping, so I suggested that I would meet everyone at the restaurant.
But perhaps I should have taken him up on his offer.
My phone rings in my clammy palms, and I heave a sigh of relief when I see it's Chase.
"Where are you?" I palm the top of my glasses, shielding myself from the sun's glare as I peer down the street again. Perhaps they just arrived and are searching for me.
"Where are you, B? We've been waiting inside for about ten minutes." His rough voice sounds faint against our friends' bristling noises and chatter. I frown, turning to glance behind me into the restaurant.
"Inside? I've been standing out here for at least 15." I head inside and greet the hostess, "Reservation for Bailey Nicholson."
A short, curvy woman with blonde streaks in her otherwise dark, tightly ringed hair scrolls through her tablet before offering me a grim smile, "Sorry, I don't have a reservation under that name."
I blanch. How could Chase be seated if there wasn't a reservation under my name?
"Chase, what was the name for the reservation?"
"It's under your name."
"But," I trail, glimpsing over the hostess' shoulder. It's a considerable open space, and I can see the entire floor from where I'm standing, but there's no sign of my friends or a large group. There's only one, but it's a family of five with three young kids.
"Perhaps you have a reservation at our other location. At Spring Mountain and Vegas Blvd?" The hostess presses her lips into a tight-lipped smile.
Two different locations, but how could I end up at the other one while all my friends went to the right one? I sent out the address to everyone; they would have—if anything—ended up at the wrong location with me.
I mutter a quick thanks and head back out into the scalding heat, "Chase, which location are you at?"
"The one you sent, Spring Mountain and Vegas, across from the Marvel Station."
How the hell did I end up at Sunset and Vegas Blvd? As soon as the question forms, only one person comes to mind.
Parker.
"I'm going to kill him," I seethe as I storm out and try to hail a cab. It's an hour's walk. While I could probably use it to relax, missing our reservation completely, I don't want to be calm and collected when I unleash my wrath upon Parker.
Chase's laboured breathing greets my ear, "Wait, you're not here because of Maverick?"
"Who else!" I don't mean to yell at Chase, but I should have seen this coming. I should have known that one stinking fish wouldn't stop him. One play against him, and he retaliates with several different moves.
But it's quality over quantity. It's not about how many times he leaves me out to dry; it's about how hard I hit him.
"Bailey," his voice growing deep, "You want me to talk to him?"
After that incident at the party a couple of years ago—where Chase said he loved me for the first time—he has trusted me to deal with unwanted attention and handle these situations on my own. But if he's asking to step in now, he must think Parker's stepped far over the line.
But I want to be able to fight my own battles. And I started this, so Parker's mine to handle. I just need to devise a plan to retaliate for leaving me stranded.
My lips curl at the various possibilities. Thanks to this Vegas trip, I have his number, and I'm sure I can mastermind a scheme that'll annoy the shit out of him long after this trip.
"No, let me handle him." I hail a cab and relay the correct address.
"Really? I can tell him to knock it off. He'll listen to me."
I know he doesn't mean anything by it, but my anger still gets the best of me. "Chase, I don't need you to fight my battles for me. I don't need him to stop because my boyfriend told him to back off. He's going to stop because I made him."
He blows out a breath, realizing there's no point arguing with me regarding this, "Alright. I'll leave it to your discretion. but you let me know if he doesn't back off."
"Trust me. He's not doing anything I can't manage. And I can manage Parker."
He chuckles, "I know, B. But aside from you being stranded, I have to admit, this is hilarious."
"Hardy har har."
That's the memory that somehow finds me as I shut the door. The music pounds across the walls and reverberates the hardwood floors beneath me. I readjust my bandeau over my chest and right the jersey on my shoulders. I palm the railing, taking slow, calculated steps downstairs.
I wonder what Chase would think of me now and how I'm managing Parker. The promise I made him seems so irrelevant now. But a pang clenches my heart as guilt gnaws at something deep inside me. I work my jaw at the unease that blossoms in the pit of my stomach.
I don't regret having sex with Parker—I thoroughly enjoyed myself, but it's the fact that I had sex at all. For the last four years, I've only been with Chase, and while I knew it was bound to happen at some point, it's still an adjustment that I need to get used to.
It didn't occur to me until after the fact that while I've been struggling these past few months over the idea of pleasure without Chase, I effortlessly overcame that hurdle with Parker. I try not to dwell on that thought as I head out into the backyard in search of my friends.
I find Mia and Ryan right where I left them before disappearing to get myself a drink. Lounging back in pool chairs surrounding the pool, Ryan sleeps soundlessly, bone-weary from drinking all day, while Mia fiddles with her phone, sipping on a mixed concoction of Sangria from a reusable water bottle.
I collapse into the seat between them—wincing at the sharp sting of my ass—and swing my legs up, crossing my ankles.
"Where have you been?" Mia asks, covering her eyes with her hand as she peers over at me. She's wearing her usual boyfriend jeans, fishnet tights, and an old hockey jersey of Noah's. Her bare leg is bent, and the other is propped up on her knee, dangling in the air.
I'm still trembling from the post-orgasmic bliss coursing through me. I had four of the most intense orgasms in one sitting, and I feel him everywhere—in the phantom touch of his hands on my skin, in the ache between my legs, the grip on my hips, the sting of my ass, and in the strain of my jaw as his taste lingers on my tongue from when he thrust down my throat. I even feel the warmth of his breath on my neck and brushing against the shell of my ear.
I gulp to ease the dryness in my throat. "Had to use the bathroom, then ran into Kathleen," I casually provide an excuse, hoping she'll buy it. I've never kept something like this from my friends before, and I hate lying to them now.
I'm great at surprises when it's for someone else, but keeping a secret, especially from my friends, is a considerable feat. Particularly something this big. I should talk to someone about this.
While I'm still reeling from having sex with someone who isn't Chase, there's still the matter that it was with Parker. And it's something I still need to wrap my head around. How can we go from biting each other's heads off to biting parts of each other and actually enjoying it?
I usually discuss this with my friends, but I'm worried that they would be distracted by the idea of Parker and me rather than the fact itself, and I'm not sure if I can explain that. Part of me doesn't get it either. Everything in me is confused why I agreed. He makes me feel good, and as I said, it's a means to an end. But does it justify my actions?
He's great at making me forget; he's the ultimate drink that gets me drunk and numb. But when I'm with him, I also remember who I used to be before the emptiness and drowning of agony and despair of Chase's death. Perhaps that's why my Vegas trip came to mind.
I'm feeling more like myself now than I have in the past few months. The competitive streak we used to have, the insults and pranks, are making their way back, but it's adapted to our changed circumstances. And I don't want to lose that just yet.
But, if I share this with anyone, even my friends, I'll lose some small semblance of deniability because it'll become too real. And I can no longer deny what's happening between Parker and me. But whenever I think of bearing the secret for longer, my blood pools in my ears, and my heart thunders in my chest.
I stare idly out at the swimming pool, the water splashing over the edge as bodies jump in—squeals and laughter filter into my ears, the music a distant hum. I chew on the inside of my cheek, weighing my choices when I vaguely see Mia extend her drink towards me. Absentmindedly I grab it, taking a large gulp. The sweetness of the fruit juice overpowers the wine, and I savour the taste as it slides down my throat.
Ryan stretches out as she sits up, yawning. "Good morning to you," Mia smiles at her as she wakes up from her nap.
She fingers the corner of her eyes, wiping away the sleep as she smiles, "What did I miss?"
"Nothing much," I mutter, deciding to keep what Parker and I are doing to myself. I don't want to burden them with something that is still very much unclear to me.
Ryan is dressed in her usual short skirt, and instead of a generic purple jersey, she's sporting Carsen's old UNC football jersey, which swallows her figure.
Picking up the water bottle seated between her thighs, she chugs most of it. She glances around at the plastic balls tossed about, the crowd gathering around the bouncy house, and the deck where someone has started the BBQ.
"Ava!" I swivel my head toward Ryan's stare and meet my younger sister's green eyes. She beams at me, grabs the arm of a tall, dark-skinned woman and jogs over towards us.
A year ago, I met Tricia, Ava's girlfriend, when they made their relationship official. Tricia is absolutely gorgeous with a lovely personality. And I love her for how happy she makes Ava.
Ava jumps into my embrace, wrapping her arms around my neck as I get to my feet. I burrow my face into her hair—that's a tinge redder than mine—and breathe in her sweet citrus scent before drawing back.
"Hey you," I kiss her cheek before turning to Tricia. She stands a few inches taller than me, with wideset hips and curvy thighs.
Her hair is intricately braided at the crown of her head before the rest is pulled back into a ponytail and her black braids fall down her back. Her satin skin, so flawless that it appears poreless, gives way to sharp cheekbones as she grins, and I sweep her into my arms.
"Hey," I croon against her cheek before falling back against the pool chair, and Ava settles between my legs. "How's HOCO so far?"
Ava rests her head on my chest, and the heat radiating from the small of her back warms my stomach as I curl an arm around her waist, hugging her to me.
"It's great. We just left one of Tree's friends' place. We thought we would stop by to check out this one before heading to the basketball team's party."
Tree—Ava's nickname for Tricia—sits in front of Mia, shifting her weight on her outstretched arms. "It was crazy. Too many people started showing up, so we left," her rich voice is raspy and deep.
Ryan chuckles, "Well, this one will get worse. It seems better because the house is massive, and the backyard is bigger than that."
It's true, I don't know who allocated this much plot for a single house when the other houses on this street are half the size, but it worked out when the fraternity needed a place. And with its size, it became known for the best parties on campus.
As the conversation diverges, I listen to Ava and Tricia explain to my friends about a new musical number they have to write and perform for their winter showcase. My gaze absently drifts towards the back deck where smoke from the BBQ wafts up into the air, and students mingle in and out of the back door, laughing and talking. There are a few coolers outside, and a few guys often refill them with ice once they drain the water.
My attention is snared by Parker, who filters outside with Sutherland and Benson, another one of his teammates. He appears lighter and buoyant as opposed to how I found him in the kitchen earlier. His shoulders aren't as tense, and his posture is less rigid; even the smile comes easily to him.
But as I continue to watch him, I'm reminded of how he asked me not to call him Parker. When I suggested he stop calling me Barbie, it's because I hated that name compared to some of the others he's used. It's the one he uses to undermine and belittle me. But when I said that, I never thought he would counter with his own request. I would have never guessed that he objected to his own last name.
I sift through my memories, recalling all the times Sam has mentioned him as Parker. I assumed it was because Sam was on the rival sports team and called him by the name on his jersey.
I always knew him as Parker because of Sam. Despite everyone I know referring to him as Maverick, it felt strange to call him that. It's odd because he's never corrected me on it. But I wonder if Sam knew and deliberately called him Parker to annoy and irritate him. If that's the case, how many times did he hate me calling him that?
I don't know why I'm worrying myself over this. I don't and shouldn't care what he likes. He's just a form of distraction. Instead of finding myself at a bar getting drunk, I use him. That's it.
A means to an end.
"Are you okay?" Ava tips her head back and stares at me with her large green doe eyes.
My brows furrow, "Yeah, why?"
Her lips pinch into a smile, "Your heart's racing."
I gulp the knot in my throat and focus, noting that my skin is warm to the touch and my mouth is parched. Ava's also right—my heart's thrumming hastily behind my rib cage. It's then that I realize it's because I've been staring at Parker from across the pool. Though he hasn't noticed me yet.
I shake my head, pinching my lips and averting my eyes, "It's nothing."
Grateful when Tricia calls for Ryan's attention, hindering Ava from responding or calling me out on my lie, I focus on her instead, "How's your internship?"
Ryan's features lighten with pure elation, "I absolutely love it. I don't get as much time to do anything else, but it's the best thing ever."
I'm glad at least one of our internships is going well.
For everything Ryan's mom put her through last year, things have really worked out for her. She was worried about disappointing her mother. But I'm glad Ryan didn't give up pursuing what makes her happy just to please her mother and her ambitions.
It's funny how these things work out though. While Ryan was anxious about this year and what would happen, I was thrilled and excited about my internship. But now, our situations are reversed, and those feelings from last year have dimmed in light of my interaction with Elijah.
He's become bolder and brazen, handsy. Often finding ways to brush up against me or grab me inappropriately a second too long before he steps away. I've repeatedly asked him to stop and that I feel uncomfortable. I was even professional about it, but he's dense and becomes worse each day.
I reached out to my academic advisor, Jenny, to get ahead of the situation. I wasn't going to let this drag out until it got worse.
This is my dream, my future, and I'm not letting anyone take this away from me.
I explained to her that if it continues, I can't be responsible for what happens to him—though, in my mind, I was a lot more explicit in that threat. She assured me that she'll look into it and go through the proper channels, but unfortunately, there's not much she could do with no evidence. But she will look into having me transferred to another team or at least another supervisor.
While I was hoping for more, I couldn't blame her for a faulty system. I just need to make the most of whatever hours I have left to complete, whether that's with Elijah or someone else.
"Have you applied for any doctorates next year?" Ava peers up at me.
"I applied to a few."
"So you're still going to Boston?"
"Maybe. I applied to a few schools near here as well, just in case."
Boston was the plan. Part of me still wants to live and enjoy what Chase couldn't, but I'll always be left wondering, constantly swarmed by thoughts and memories of what we had and what we could have had. It'll be a continuous battle of being stuck in a past that I'm unwilling to move on from and a future that won't be within reach because of said past.
But I've also applied to a few programs across the country, in California, to get away from the haunting memories entirely.
A frown tugs at my lips. So many decisions, if made differently, could have had a completely different outcome. But I won't blame the guy who can't defend himself. He had his reasons; I just wish I knew what they were. If I understood, maybe our last few moments together wouldn't have been spent arguing; they might not have even been our last few moments.
I need to move past that. I need to focus on rebuilding myself and my future.
Worry lines mar Ava's freckled face, and the tip of her brows slope upwards. I run a thumb across her forehead, "What's wrong, hun?"
She pinches her lips together, throwing Tricia a quick glance, "I'm thinking of moving out when you leave."
Elation warms my skin as I smile at her.
I told her she needed to move out of our parents' place. Dad barely acknowledges her, and Mom only does when Dad isn't around. I would have offered her a room in our apartment if we had the space, but I didn't push on the matter since she spends most of her time at Tricia's anyway.
But I want her moved out and settled before I leave. Though Sam isn't much help, he would at least act as a buffer for her, but that depends on where he's drafted next year. I just don't want Ava alone with our parents.
"Good, you should move out now."
Her lips quirk to the side, "Tree's lease ends in April, and we're thinking of finding a place together next year."
I nod with a smile that lifts my eyes, "That's great."
Silence falls between us as we both stare at the pool. "I'm happy for you, Avs," I play with the soft strands of her hair, "I don't know how you stay there, but the fact that you put up with them and still find a way to be you. I'm so proud."
She shifts her head, hiding her face into my chest, "It's thanks to you, B. I couldn't have done it without you. Especially with everything Sammy said, you're why I hold on."
Sam, like Mom, seemed to have changed his mind regarding Ava as soon as she told Dad. Every time Dad said something, Sam would find a way to take his frustration out on Ava.
My heart clenches in my chest. "It's all you," I croak, "I'm just here to hold your hand and tell you that I love you."
"And that's exactly what I need."
I mutter a quick 'I love you' against her hairline and wrap my arms around her shoulder.
I wish I could take her with me next year. I wish I could protect her from the harshness of this world, especially our own family.
If it was late and the stars were out, I would have swallowed the lump in my throat—ignoring the sinking feeling—and made a wish on her behalf. Despite losing my faith in that ritual, I would have done it for her.
Anything for her. The sad thing is that used to include Sam as well. But not anymore. Not when he's pushed both of us out of his lives so permanently.
A/N - Hey! This is the last flashback we have of Chase 😭 but this is great news for Bailey as it's a sign that she's moving on. I know there wasn't much interaction between Maverick and Bailey, but this interaction with her sister is vital.
The next update will be Monday. Hope everyone had a great long weekend and a happy Easter.
Maddie