Surviving Us (35 page)

“Come on,” I instruct Kayden. “Let’s go find out what the hell is going on.”

All thirty-three steps it takes me to get to where Mo is, I try to make sense of what’s going on, why Davis is here, but my brain is such a convoluted mess of disbelief and overwhelming emotion that nothing is adding up.

“Flaca!” Mo yells excitedly and raises his cup in the air. “You made it!”

He wraps his big, burly arms around me, lifting me off the ground in his overzealous embrace. Once he returns me to my feet, he smiles at Kayden and extends his free hand. “You must be Kayden. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The two shake hands and exchange a friendly welcome, and then Mo does a quick rundown of everyone’s name for Kayden’s benefit, as if he’s going to remember them all.

With his attention back on me, Mo playfully pulls one of my braids. “Well, your surprise was standing right here, but he took off for some reason. He should be back soon.”

I stand there and look at him dumbfounded, my face expressionless, my voice unable to speak.

“Are you okay, Flaca? Do you need something to drink?” he asks with alarm.

Kayden graciously seizes the moment and pipes up. “I’ll go grab us all some drinks. Where’s the keg?”

Mo points him in the direction of the cups and beer before returning his scrutinizing eyes to mine. “What’s going on, Bristol? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is the guy already being a complete douche? ‘Cause you know I’ll ask him to leave. I’ve got no problems telling an old dude off.”

“Why is he here?” I ask in a voice barely above a whisper.

He scrunches his brow, obviously confused. “You’re the one who brought him, silly girl.”

I shake my head rapidly. “No, not Kayden. Why is Davis McKay here? Did you invite him?” I suck on my bottom lip to keep it from trembling; it’s taking every ounce of self-control I have not to burst into tears. “How did you know?”

“Great job on knowing who Davis is. See, I told you you’re a kick-ass sports journalist.” He grins brightly, not picking up on my anguish. “And how did I know what?”

Swallowing back the knot of emotion in the back of my throat, I realize he doesn’t know, has no clue. “Davis. He’s the guy I met this summer in St. Lucia. The
one
.”

Mo’s eyes grow as wide as saucers and his jaw falls open. “No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way,” I snap. “Now why is he here?”

“Oh my God, Flaca, I’m s-so sorry,” he stammers, pausing to take a long drink. “He showed up this morning at practice. Coach announced he’s going to be our new quarterback. I had no idea you knew him. That was your surprise.”

My hands cover my face as my thoughts spiral out of control. What in the world just happened? Is he really here for good? Is this all a fantasy dream come true, or a horrible nightmare?

“Here’s a beer, Bristol,” Kayden announces as he rejoins us.

I drop my hands, taking the cup from him and offering a soft “thank you” in the process. Glancing around, Davis is nowhere to be found, and suddenly I’m worried about what he’s thinking, seeing me here with Kayden of all people.

Mo tries to start up small talk with Kayden about living in New York City, but I can’t pay attention. I need to talk to Davis and find out what is really going on.

Thankfully, Kayden senses my distress, and although we haven’t even been there half an hour, he looks at his phone and suddenly claims to have had some work pop up that must be attended to.

“Bristol, would you mind taking me back to the hotel? I really need to get on my laptop and get this sorted before my early flight in the morning.”

“Are you sure? I know we just got here, and you really wanted to hang out.”

“I’m positive. I may even need to change my flight back to tonight.” He rests his hand on my shoulder and smiles an understanding smile. “I came to see you and make sure you were doing okay. I hope my being here didn’t, or doesn’t, cause you any issues. All I want is for you to be happy, baby girl.”

“Thank you, Kay.”

I inform Mo I’m taking Kayden to his hotel and I’ll be back to sort this all out, but make him promise not to say a word to Davis about me nor tell Lyv what’s going on whenever she shows up. Mo’s already beating himself up over something he has no control over, and I hate that.

Our drive back to the hotel is silent. I’m still trying to regain my composure over Davis’ abrupt appearance, and I’m sure Kayden is simply being nice enough to give me the time. I bring the car to a stop in front of his hotel, feeling terrible about everything.

“I’m sorry, Kayden,” I apologize sincerely. “This has all been so unexpected
—you showing up, him showing up, all of it. I feel like I’m on a bad reality TV show or something.”

“You don’t need to apologize. And anytime you need to talk, I’m only a touch of a button away.” He leans over the middle console and kisses my cheek.

“Bye, Kay.”

“Bye, baby girl.”

Twenty total minutes is how long it took me to drive Kayden back to his hotel and to return to the BBQ. Throughout the entire trip, I think of all the things I want to say to him, all of the questions I have for him. I’m livid but ecstatic, outraged but hopeful. I’m mad at myself for already wanting to forgive him, and he hasn’t even apologized.

However, when I walk back into the backyard, Davis is now holding court in the middle of the festivities with a decent-sized group around him, including a bunch of the football players and a slew of sleazily-clad frat rats, all looking to get their hands on fresh meat. Whatever story he’s telling has them all throwing their head back with laughter, opening their painted dick-suckers wide as they howl in delight and overtly shaking their barely-covered tits in his direction.

Almost as if he senses my presence, he stops talking, looks up at me with a wicked smirk on his face, and then motions me over with his hand, causing everyone else to turn their head and see who he’s beckoning. I cross my arms over my chest, staying exactly where I am, and shake my head, my face burning hot with embarrassment. Instantly, I sense something’s not right.

“Come over here, Bristol,” he shouts out, his voice evidently slurred from the alcohol. “We’re having story time. You should definitely join us. ”

“Nah, I’m good. Come find me later; we can talk then.” I turn around to go find either Alyvia or Mo, but not before he cripples me with his next two sentences.

“You can be next if you want! I think you should tell us all a story about a girl who’s scared of the rain, or maybe one about a lying bitch who enjoys playing with people’s feelings!”

My head snaps around in the blink of an eye and I glare at him, wishing I could kill him with my look alone. What in the fuck is his problem? The rage inside me has my blood at a boiling point, and I have to count backwards from ten to keep myself from flying over the grass and slapping him across the face.

I’m not sure how long we stand there, piercing each other with our intense stares, everyone watching our heated exchange, but finally, I find my voice. “I’m sure you’re doing a great job of keeping everyone entertained with the ‘How to Be the Biggest Dick Anywhere You Go’ story,” I yell back with a fake smile. Then, pivoting on the ball of my foot, I spin around toward the house, devastated and destroyed.

Unfortunately, I don’t make it inside before I hear him retort, “You never seemed to mind my big dick!”

Alyvia and Lucky are waiting for me on the porch, having witnessed the entire scene, and usher me inside to the kitchen. I’m not sure where Mo is, but I’m too distraught to care. I honestly can’t believe Davis not only just acted like that, but said something so cruel. Is this why he’s here? To hurt me more than I already am?

“Do you know who that is?” I ask her incredulously.

She nods. “Yeah, Mo warned me.”

Fucking Mo doesn’t listen worth a shit.

“Here.” A shot glass is shoved in front of my face
—I’m not even sure by who—
and without a second thought, I slug it back in one gulp, barely feeling the burning liquid slide down my throat.

“Again,” I demand as I slam it down on the counter.

Another shot is poured and I repeat the motion, this time welcoming the scorching fire that trickles into my chest.

“Again,” I insist.

“Bristol, please slow down, babe,” Alyvia warns cautiously, tenderly touching my forearm. “You’re upset, and rightfully so, but
—
”

“Don’t even, Lyv,” I cut her off, snatching my arm out of her grasp. “I’ve made it the last twelve years without a mom; I sure as fuck don’t need you trying to be one to me now.”

I grab the tequila bottle myself and pour another shot, and then another. The warm, tingling sensation quickly begins to envelop my entire body, soothing the frayed nerves and offering a temporary emotional numbness.

“Plus,” I add in a hushed whisper, “alcohol always tastes better than tears.”

I’M DRUNK AND I’M PISSED.

I’m pissed at her for walking in with that guy from the trip, who she promised me was just a friend.

I’m pissed at her for not coming to look for me when she got there.

I’m pissed at her for shattering my happily-ever-after dreams and ruining everything I’ve worked so hard for.

But mostly, I’m pissed at myself for actually believing what she and I shared was something special, something to build a true relationship on.

And I’m pissed that even though I’m pissed, I still want nothing more in the world than to hold her in my arms and tell her what I should’ve told her before we left St. Lucia
—that I love her and would do anything to become the person she deserves.