Something I Need (xoxo Nashville Book 1) (21 page)

I
t was
another kick-ass night at The Big Bang. Performing made Jonte deliriously happy.
She had the best job in the world. And the best group of friends. Although, she wasn’t sure what was up with Dolly, but she’d been off all night. Super snappy and moody as hell. Very out of character. Jonte couldn’t figure out why she’d actually stuck around until closing, seeing as she’d already told her Seb would give her a ride home.

“I’m so damn wired,” Dean said, grabbing his shit and getting ready to leave.

“I know, the crowd tonight was insane.” Seb grinned, stuffed his drumsticks into his back pockets, and then leaned over to pull Jonte in for a hug.

“Get a room!” Dean joked, shaking his head.

“Are you tired, babe?” Seb looked at Jonte.

“Not really.” She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. Like Dean she was wide awake.

“We’ve got beer back at ours. We could play beer pong or drinking games.” Dean smiled cheekily and rubbed his hands together.

Interesting. She had never actually been to their place.

“We could play True American,” Seb suggested.

“What the hell is True American?” Dolly asked, wandering over.

“Oh, that’s the game from New Girl
,
right? Yes! I totally wanna play that!” Jonte clapped her hands together and grinned, impressed Seb had remembered her love for that TV show.

Seb googled True American videos on his cell and then handed it over for Dolly to watch.

“This looks crazy. Are there any rules?” Dolly asked.

“You want rules? We’ll play Clinton rules!” Dean said, mischief and mayhem coating each word.

“Clinton rules?” Dolly couldn’t hide her confusion, cocking her head to one side, exactly like Cash did.

Ugh. Cash.

“Yeah. Pick an intern, drink, jump around on the furniture and get
naked
.” Dean smirked.

“Sounds like a plan. Take me home, cowboy.” Dolly hooked her arm through Dean’s and they walked towards the door.

“Oh, fabulous.” Jonte shook her head. Naked drinking games? What was she getting herself in to?

“It’ll be fine.” Seb leaned down and kissed her forehead.

T
he boys’ apartment
was bigger than Jonte expected. It had a loft-style feel, all high ceilings and a wide-open spaces, with the kitchen, living, and dining areas all combined. A wood and steel kitchen dominated the room, with red, yellow, green and black industrial stools, similar to those in Cash’s bar. There was also a well-worn chocolate leather lounge suite and a large dining table surrounded by an assortment of mismatched chairs. Nestled in the corner was a metallic red drum set and an upright piano opposite it. The apartment was clean, like super clean. Maybe even cleaner than Dolly’s apartment, which Jonte cleaned as meticulously as Cash scrubbed his bar.

“This space is gorgeous,” Dolly said, looking around to take it all in.

“Which one of you is the cleaner?” Jonte asked.

“Him,” Seb replied, nodding at Dean.

“Huh, that’s surprising. I would have guessed you.”

Dean was so cool and casual, almost sloppy with his appearance. She hadn’t pegged him as being a clean freak.

“Beer. We need beer.” Dean raced to the fridge and pulled out six-pack after six-pack, stacking them up on the stainless steel bench top.

“Right. I guess we make a beer fort first?” Seb grabbed as many six-packs as he could carry and lugged them over to the square wooden coffee table.

“Let me help.” Jonte picked up two six-packs.

“So we just stack them up, then?” Dolly asked, pulling off the packaging.

“I guess.” Dean’s voice echoed from the kitchen, where he was busy throwing a packet of crisps into a bowl. “We’ve never played before.”

Jonte set up the first layer of the fort with Dolly and Seb ran to get more beer.

With the boy’s fridge completely cleared out, an impressive fort of beer cans took pride of place on the coffee table and protected the bottle of Jack in the middle.

“Now what?” Dolly looked from Dean to Seb and back to Dean again.

“Now we establish some rules,” Dean replied with his cheeky grin. “The floor is molten lava, right?”

Seb and Jonte giggled and nodded.

“And that means?” Dolly asked.

“It’s off limits.” Dean pulled cushions off the sofa while Seb scattered the stools and chairs sporadically around the room. “The aim is to step on anything but the floor, all the while answering random questions about presidents or finishing off a famous quote. Right, Seb?”

“I think so. They don’t really have rules on the show. It’s pretty much anything goes. But there are a bunch of sites online that suggest different stuff.”

“And you can yell out FDR at any point and everyone else replies JFK and chugs the beer in their hand,” Jonte added, pleased she’d remembered that random fact.

“Okay, so how do we end up naked?” Dolly asked, hands on hips, surveying the chaos of the room.

“I think that was a bullshit rule that Jess added on the show to help Nick score with that chick that Brooklyn Decker was playing,” replied Seb. “How about you answer a question wrong, you take off a piece of clothing?”

“Sure,” Dolly said. Jonte and Dean shrugged in agreement. Dolly turned and asked Jonte. “How much do you know about American presidents?”

“Not much.” Jonte blew out a long I’m-so-screwed breath, realizing she was going to be the first one naked. She liked her body and was confident enough with herself, but that didn’t mean she wanted to get undressed with her friends. Ugh. Maybe she was being a prude?

“Excellent.” Seb rubbed his hands together and grinned, no doubt coming to the same conclusion. “Okay, so time for a quick rundown. Get a question right or finish off the quote and you move forward one step. Get it wrong or don’t answer and you lose clothing. You can only grab a beer when you’re closest to the table, and if your beer is empty or you touch the floor, you’re out. No more than three beers in your hand at once. Ready?”

“Ready,” Dolly, Dean, and Jonte replied in unison.

“Awesome. Everyone grab a beer and let’s go!” Seb leaned forwards to take one.

“No, no, no. You’re supposed to do a shotgun tip off. Not that I know what the hell that is, so let’s do rock, paper, scissors to keep it simple,” Dean said.

“Oh, right,” Seb replied.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” Dean said, his voice echoing in the huge space.

Jonte won with a rock, whereas the others had all opted for scissors.

“Go first, babe,” Seb said.

“One, two, three, FDR!” Jonte screamed, lunged for her beer, and then bolted for the sofa.

“JFK,” Seb and Dean yelled out together, grabbing beers and scrambling away from the fort.

“Oops.” Dolly giggled, took a beer and jumped onto the closest cushion.

“Ask not what you your country can do for you…” Seb started.

“Ask what you can do for your country,” Dean and Dolly finished off in unison.

“Drink!” Seb yelled and they all took a gulp of their beer.

“Take something off,” Dean said, teasing Jonte.

Jonte shook her head and kicked off one of her cowboy boots.

“Who said the previous quote?” Dolly asked.

“JFK!” Jonte yelled out, happy to finally know an answer. “Take off some clothes, boys!”

Seb followed Jonte’s lead and kicked off a boot, but Dean shucked off his black button-down shirt, revealing a rock hard six-pack and an intricate tattoo on his chest; ‘only the strong survive’ scripture was wrapped around a string bound cross.

“Take a good look, ladies.” Dean puffed out his chest. “Youngest president?”

“JFK!” Dolly screeched.

“Wrong,” Dean said. “Take something off. JFK was youngest elected, Teddy Roosevelt was the youngest when he took over from McKinley.”

“Gah.” Dolly pulled off her tank top, revealing a hot-pink and black lacy bra.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean said with a sly grin.

“Hey, Jonte and Seb didn’t answer either. They should lose some clothes too.” Dolly pointed madly at the two of them, a-you-didn’t-fool-me-this-time wide smile shining.

Not even bothering to argue, both Jonte and Seb kicked off their remaining boots.

“Hey, aren’t we supposed to be moving?” Jonte looked around at her friends.

“Shit. How many questions have we done? Hmmm. Maybe everyone make three moves,” Seb said.

Jonte moved from the sofa to the cushions, stealing another beer on her way. Seb scooted along the kitchen counter and stepped onto the red stool, while Dean chased Dolly and ended up sharing one of the sofas with her.

And so the game went on until everyone was well and truly drunk and barely standing in their underwear.

“Only president to resign?” Seb wobbled on one of the oversized cushions.

“Nixon!” Dolly and Dean yelled and clumsily high-fived each other.

“Shit!” Jonte looked down at her plain cotton Bonds underwear and white bra, wishing she’d worn something sexier. “I am not taking any more off.” She chugged the rest of her beer, threw the can towards the overflowing box of cans, and climbed off the yellow stool and onto the floor.

“No!” Seb cried out, grabbing his face Home Alone style. “You’re in the molten lava.”

“Where’s your room?” she asked Seb.

“I’m out.” He stumbled off his cushion, scrambling towards her.

“Game’s over. Take me to bed, cowboy.” Dolly’s words slurred together and Dean responded way too enthusiastically for this time of the morning, throwing her over his shoulder.

Jonte was rooted to the spot, watching them like some kind of voyeur. Through her beer buzz, her heart hurt, cracking wide open again to reveal the Cash-shaped hole. Damn it. Every time she thought she was moving on, something pulled her back in.

“You okay?” Seb asked.

“Mmmm.” She nodded. Total lie. Maybe. Was one letter a lie?

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Can I borrow a T-shirt to sleep in?”

“Sure.”

Super sweet Sebastian Meyers. Smart. Kind. Thoughtful. Gorgeous. The boy was every parents’ dream come true and every girls’ fantasy. Why was she asking him for a shirt instead of ripping off his pants?

C
otton balls
. Yuck. That’s what Jonte’s mouth tasted like. And her head felt like someone was trying to shatter it with a sledgehammer. Argh, it even hurt to move, so she tried to still her body. Slowly, she peeked open her right eye and then quickly shut it again because the light felt like it was maiming her eyes. Eek! What on earth had she done last night? Never in her whole life had she felt so appallingly shitty.

With her eyes shut, Jonte tried to find something familiar in her memory. She searched the foggy corners of her mind and saw flashes of Dolly and Dean and Seb. They were jumping up and down and screaming and drinking beer. Gah! Even the memory of the screaming was making her head throb. Aspirin. She needed aspirin. And probably some water too. If only she could get up.

Crap. Where exactly was she?

Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Just do it.

Jonte forced her eyes open and took in the room. The walls were blank, and there was a black desk and bookcase over in the far corner. The room was completely unfamiliar, but if she had to take a guess, she would have said she was in Seb’s room. Because who else would have a desk?

She sat up and tried to focus on the closed bedroom door in an attempt to ground herself and stop the room from spinning.
Ugh. Make it stop
. This was why she didn’t drink excessively.

Jonte swung her legs over the side of the bed, noticing they were bare and for the first time seeing the black Pearl Jam T-shirt she was wearing. She swiftly tugged it up. Her underwear was still on. Phew. At least that was something, right?

Had anything happened with Seb? She couldn’t remember. How terrible was that?

Carefully, Jonte stood up and took a few tentative steps towards the door. She paused to squish her hands against her head to try to stop it from pounding. After a few moments, she finished her trek to the door and opened it.

Outside, the main living area was chaos. Beer cans, sofa cushions, and crisp packets were scattered everywhere. What a mess. Seb sat on one of the stools in the kitchen, wearing a loose pair of pajama pants and nothing else, his head hanging low in his hands.

This was so not good. Why was he out here and not in bed with her? Had they had an argument or something? Ugh. Again, she couldn’t remember.

Cautiously, she padded over to him. “Hey,” she said, the words bouncing around in her head.

“You’re up.” He didn’t look at her.

Something was definitely wrong. This was so not like Seb.

“Are you okay?” She rested her hand on his solid, bare shoulder.

Seb dropped his hands, his sad my-heart-just-got-hacked-up-by-a-chainsaw eyes meeting hers. “You don’t look so great. Let me get you some aspirin.” He slid off the stool and reached up into the cupboard to grab a glass, then popped two aspirin out of the pack off the top of the fridge. Seb filled the glass with water and set it all down on the bench top in front of her.

The boy was a damn saint.

“Thanks.” Jonte quickly downed the aspirin, then rested the glass back on the counter and looked up at him. “Are you okay?”

“I really care about you.”

The words dried her mouth and sent a spike of adrenalin coursing through her body.
Oh, God. Was this a variation of the famous “we need to talk” talk?

“I care about you too.”

It was true. She did. A lot.

“But you love Cash.”

“What?” she squeaked, surprised at his words.

“In bed this morning, I rolled over to cuddle you and you started moaning Cash’s name and the things you wanted him to do to you.”

Oh, no.

“I was out of it, Seb. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Seb pushed a stray hair away from her face and stared into her eyes, searching. “So you’re saying nothing ever happened with the two of you? You looked pretty cozy that night he picked you up from work.” He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “I want something more with you. But I need to know what the deal with you and Cash is.”