Consumed (Addicted to You Book 1) (16 page)

Colby was right. I was a dud. Not just because my world was crumbling in front of me. But I wasn’t really the party kind of person and the current one was our third party in two days. Of course one of them was short lived because Colby found it to be the absolute most boring party she’d ever been to.

I’d settled for her, but being there reminded me how much I didn’t enjoy parties. Which it turns out was not at all.

Too many different kinds of people attended parties and the space was usually cramped. I had to admit the place we were at had more room than I was accustomed to in a party; but it didn’t change my views.

Driving up to the house the first night, I’d wondered how the hell so many people were inside such a tiny structure, if it was even safe and where my best friend had gotten an invite. I had also known that I probably didn’t really want the answer to any of those questions.

Until that night I’d never been to a house party of that scale. The closest I’d come was Abby’s little wanna-be rave in community college. She lived in an apartment off-campus and had decided that she was going to be the cool kid for a night and throw a party for our entire freshman class.

It was probably her dumbest idea and that was saying a lot because Abby was known for thinking up bad things to try and do. None of us were sure what had possessed her to try and squeeze several hundred people into a two bedroom townhouse, or to believe that doing so wouldn’t piss off the neighbors, but she’d put her heart into providing a fun party.

Then she’d put her paychecks into covering the damages and her time into eviction court and paying fines for underage drinking charges. By the end of freshman year, Abby was living at her mom’s and being dropped off and picked up every day by her high school aged brother.

But the party Colby had coerced me into attending- it was unusual. Though modest, the house held the people inside a little more comfortably than Abby’s place. The host, whoever that happened to me, didn’t have a stereo player attached to subwoofers in the corner pumping out mind-numbing rock music. Instead they had a DJ with professional equipment spinning the top hits in the country.

The nearest neighbors appeared to be tourists and nobody seemed at all troubled by the traffic of the party. As best as I’d seen, there wasn’t even one brawl that had broken out so far.

But the place was full to capacity both days. And crowds did not blend well with my general detest for people. Couple that with the suffering in my mind that I was trying to avoid and I ended up in the corner, drink in hand and faking a smile whenever Colby strode by with the current object of her attention.

That night, the third party we’d attended and second at the same house, I opted to keep away from the people altogether and just enjoy the alcohol. So far, I’d managed to avoid the devastating grief that seemed to always hover inside my mind.

I’d kept up my end of the agreement. Once we’d gone to bed that night, we didn’t discuss Spencer or his disappearance again. Colby chattered about people she had met or things we were still going to do, and we pretended that the love of my life had just never existed. I only wished that I could pretend enough to make the pain stop.

I refused to speak his name. He was gone and it was time to admit it. At least that’s what I told myself in the good moments.

The awful moments…well they were different. I’d drink until I felt deadened for a minute. Or I would talk about something off the wall that would take my mind from the circumstances. Whatever would work to make me stop thinking about it, even for the smallest time.

When I was alone in the quiet, and the bottle was empty, I’d feel a tear slowly skate down my face. In those silent and secret moments, I’d remember what I’d had with Spencer and grieve for what had vanished when he left. Those seconds were infrequent. I avoided them as often as possible. Most often using the same thing I was using at that party. Alcohol.

I’d also learned that even with my distaste for people, they kept me functional. I found that if I spent time at the parties or with Colby then I would find it easier to lessen what was going through my mind. It was an act. Nothing about me really enjoyed anything I was doing. But it kept me going. And that’s how I’d ended up at yet another party, with yet another drink in my hand and somewhat avoiding socialization while also avoiding being by myself.

The drink was strong- and had been free- both factors that were in my favor. The music was loud and vivacious, keeping me from focusing on misfortune. Overall the ambiance was a decent one.

But it was a party. Full of haphazard people that I didn’t recognize. All of them with different opinions, personalities and lifestyles. On a day when I felt like my body had been run over by a mack truck that had then backed up and hit me again, I had no use for people. .

Colby was right, though. Guys were everywhere. Ugly, short and fat guys. Tall, dark and handsome guys. Even guys that were probably attracted to other guys. The ratio of guys to girls had to be four to one at least, so if I’d wanted someone I’d have had my pick of the litter. But I didn’t.

Well I did. But he wasn’t at the party and obviously hadn’t wanted me.

“You look less than excited,” I heard the voice before I realized where it was coming from, but it only took a moment to locate the culprit. He stood about an inch taller than me, maybe 5’8 or so, and wasn’t one of the more noticeable men in the room.

My polite way of saying he was only average in a room full of hot beach guys.

A shaggy mop of blonde hair fell across his face and hid the eyes and what appeared to be a mild case of acne. His lips were smiling, but not in a flirty way. More like a friendly gesture.

He wasn’t among the guys that had dressed to the nines for the party; and he wasn’t one of the ones walking around shirtless. Though I believed that even though his faded t-shirt contained a slightly chunky torso, he probably held the muscles and tan needed to pull off the topless look.

Not that I was really noticing much of anyone. Looking at guys only reminded me of the one I wanted the most. The one I needed. The one I’d never have.

“Luke,” he announced as if I were anxiously awaiting his name. “Also known as the life of the party.”

“I can tell,” I said sarcastically.

“Ouch,” he feigned a shot through the heart, which I found just cute enough to laugh. “Did you just come here to hurt the sensitive guys?”

“no,” I shook my head and looked at him. “I’d like to hurt them all.”

Chapter 18

“Let me guess, Mr Perfect is coming by?” I was in the kitchen, making myself a sandwich when I heard Colby’s voice behind me.

“I’m not going to argue,” I told her, continuing with my task. “I wish I’d picked up something for dinner. This sandwich sounds disgusting.”

Colby had barely said a word to me since our day at the mall. The only things I ever seemed to hear were snide remarks and insults. Occasionally she would ask me if I would pick up something at the store or do a load of dishes for her, but friendly chatter no longer had a place in our world.

“Well either that or you put a lot of effort into dressing for a sandwich at home,” she snapped.

“Spencer is coming over to watch a movie,” I said calmly. “Is that okay?”

“Do what you like,” she waved a hand. “I’ll go out for the night.”

“You know Colby,” she stopped and turned to face me. “You could actually spend some time with us. It wouldn’t kill you.”

“Oh yes, because anyone would be crazy not to want to sit here and be the unwanted third wheel,” she retorted, starting to walk away.

“You make it that way! Not us!” I was so tired of fielding the blame for her bad attitude. “You are the one that stays angry.”

“Hurt, angry….what’s the difference right?”

“I didn’t hurt you on purpose!”

“You haven’t stopped yet,” she snapped and stepped out of the kitchen. “I’m not even sure why you live here!” I heard her yell from across the apartment.

I was about to follow her and give her a piece of my mind when I heard the knock on the door. My heart pounded and my breathing quickened at the thought of seeing him, even though it’d been less than forty-eight hours since he’d last been over. I still got butterflies when I knew he was coming over.

“Hey babe,” he smiled and leaned down to kiss me on the cheek. “Everything okay?”

I felt my face flush. I knew he’d heard the yelling and it embarrassed me. I didn’t want him to think I was a person that liked to fight. I also didn’t want him to think I hadn’t listened to his advice two weeks prior when I’d sat on his couch.

“It’s fine,” I lied, leading him in. “What’s that?” I noticed the bag in his hand.

“Dinner!” he beamed and I wondered how he had known yet again exactly what I needed. “Or were you already eating…” I saw his eyes glance at the sandwich.

“If whatever is in that bag is better than bologna, I’ll take it,” I grinned.

“Chinese,” he sat the bag on the counter. “Orange chicken, egg drop soup and egg rolls,” he continued. “And maybe some crab Rangoon.”

“Oh my God,” I squealed. “I think I love you.”

“I sure as hell hope so!” he grinned, proud of himself for making me happy.

“Before I decide for sure,” I squinted as if trying to make a decision. “What kind of movie?”

“Sappy, happy chick flick guaranteed to require Kleenex,” he shrugged.

“Yep,” I wrapped my arms around him, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I most definitely love you.”

“That’s a relief,” he wiped his hand across his brow. “I was getting worried.”

We both laughed as we grabbed the bags of food and headed into the living room. I could hear Colby banging things in her bedroom and I simply tried to ignore it. If her goal was to ruin my evening with Spencer it wasn’t going to work.

“Thing aren’t any better are they?” he nodded towards Colby’s room as we sat on the sofa.

“Not really,” I confessed. “She’s still angry and doesn’t understand why I live here.”

“Does she want you to leave?” he seemed worried about the idea.

“I don’t know Spence,” I shrugged. “It seems that way.”

“I still think you should work this out,” his voice was firm. “But if you can’t, you could come and stay with me.”

“You don’t really want that,” I shook my head. “That’s not how couples should move in together.”

“It’s not that I don’t want that,” he turned my face to him. “I’d love nothing more than to wake up to you every day. I just worry about how we’d do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we don’t really know each other’s bad habits. We don’t know the things that drive us crazy. We don’t know a lot of things.”

“I doubt you have any bad habits,” I laughed. “You are perfect after all.”

“I wish,” he laughed with me. “I really wish. But I’m bad to throw towels in the bathroom floor and leave hair in the sink.”

“Gross,” I made a disgusted face. “I don’t think this will work.”

“See, that’s what I mean,” he used my teasing as an advantage. “I’m a nasty bachelor.”

“So I hear,” I scrunched my face as if I was still bothered.

“What if we fought all the time?” he asked randomly. “What if living together ruined us?”

“People fight Spencer,” I reminded him. “It happens all the time.”

“We don’t,” it was true. We’d never really argued much. “What if we can’t take it?”

“Or,” I started. “What if we fought and then had amazing make-up sex?”

“Hmmm,” he leaned over and began to kiss me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer and running my fingertips along his shoulders. “I do like the sound of that.”

“There are benefits to fighting,” I whispered between kisses. “Angry, hot, sweaty sex is one of them.”

“I do like hot and sweaty sex,” his hands slipped up underneath the blouse I was wearing, cupping my breasts as I gasped. “But then we’d be all sweaty and gross.” I felt his thumb flick across my nipple and I moaned slightly.

“That’s why they make showers,” I slipped my own hands down his back and under the t-shirt he had stretched across his muscles. “To clean up from hot and sweaty sex.”

“Mmmm, but the idea of you naked and wet,” his lips began to trace my neckline, “only makes me want to get you hot and sweaty again.”

“Oh god,” I moaned quietly, lying back against the arm of the couch and pulling his body with me. “Then I guess we have a problem.”

I parted my legs slightly on the couch, allowing his hips to wiggle in between them. His lips continued to press lightly against my skin as his hands massaged my breasts, flicking across the stiff buds from time to time.

“What problem is that baby?” he asked as he gently sucked at the nape of my neck.

“When will we find time to eat?” I teased, arching my back and pressing myself against him.

“You have a fucking bedroom!” Colby snapped, reminding me that she was there.

“Sorry,” Spencer offered, sitting up and adjusting his t-shirt and jeans. “My fault.”

“Always is,” she replied with sarcasm.

“It’s not that serious,” her attitude was pissing me off almost as much as the frustration flowing through my body.