“Justin! Justin… wake up! Damnit… why do you always do this when it’s your turn?”
The sound of my name being whispered harshly in the darkness jolts me awake, and I sit straight up in bed.
“Huh? What… what’s wrong?”
“I’ll get it. Just go back to sleep.” The woman beside me mutters angrily as she moves to crawl out of bed.
“No… I got it. I’m sorry.” I smile and kiss her forehead quickly before sliding out of bed.
I make my way into the kitchen, grab a bottle from the fridge, and retreat down the hall, easily navigating the apartment in the dark. If it wasn’t for the wailing coming from the second bedroom, it would be eerily quiet.
I open the door and can’t stop myself from wincing as the sound intensifies.
“It’s alright bud…I’m here, calm down.” I do my best to soothe my son as I lift him from his crib and cradle him against my chest.
I know babies cry, but it’s non fucking stop with this kid.
And maybe it makes me sound like an asshole, but it’s moments like this that make me miss the way things were.
I’m not saying I don’t love my kid or his mother, cause believe me… I really do. I just… miss having little to no responsibilities. I miss going out whenever the hell I felt like it, getting completely hammered with my friends, and doing it all again the next day.
The weird thing is, when I was able to do those things, I wanted to be tied down. I wanted a family and the responsibility, and security that came with it. I guess it’s a ‘grass is greener on the other side’ kinda thing. You always want what you don’t have.
I mean, it’s not like I’m gonna just up and leave Kris or the life we’re building, but if I could have just one day a month to be the guy I was a year ago, it’d be the perfect balance for me.
But, that’s not how this being a grown up thing works.
I’m sure it doesn’t sound like it, but I am happy.
I just… I guess the fact that I’m just a few short months away from being a married man is making me a little nervous.
Trace seems to think it’s cold feet, but seeing as how the most serious relationship he’s ever had is with his dog, his is the last advice I’m gonna listen to.
*******************************
“Lights off. Need advil. Now.” Jules mumbles as she and Cooper practically crawl into the shop.
I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet they were out drinking themselves stupid last night. And where was I, you ask? At home, in bed by ten, and perfectly ok with it.
It’s been eight months since I allowed myself to be that pathetic, has to have a man to be happy, girl. And in these last eight months, I’ve become twice as bitter, twice the man-hater I ever was. So much so, that I’m dangerously close to becoming yet another crazy cat lady, but… I’m not out there getting stepped all over by some man, like most women. So, who’s really the crazy one?
Going out with Jules and Cooper has become one of my least favorite things on the planet. Which is beyond strange, considering how much I used to love it.
I just got tired of the game. You’d go out, sit in a bar for hours and bullshit. Nine times out of ten, some desperate to get laid idiot would approach you, if you went home with him… you would spend days hoping he’d call, and feeling miserable when he didn’t. If you chose to shoot him down, you were left wondering if you’d just rejected the man who could quite possibly be the love of your life.
Yeah, I’ll pass on that, thanks.
Now, I am more than happy to stay home, read a book, get some sleep and come to work the next day to mock the two booze hounds as they stumble in, looking bleary eyed and confused.
Call me a bitch, but that might actually be my favorite part of the day.
“Don’t you two look lovely this morning.”
“Emma… please do not make me stuff you in the trunk of my car for the day.” Cooper smiles sarcastically as he eases onto his usual seat, the top of the back counter. “Just open the store and sell shit. Let me die here in peace.”
Isn’t it nice to know that no matter what happens, some things never change?
Jules and Cooper are those things.
They will forever be 21 years old, ready to party, not worried about the consequences of the morning after. On one hand, it’s a little sad and on the other, it’s completely endearing.
As much as I ridicule them for not growing up, I don’t think I’d ever change them. They’re my obnoxious, completely insane, borderline alcoholic best friends, and I love them dearly.
I may have changed, but I am beyond glad they haven't.
“We’re meeting with the caterer on the fifth, so if you want anything weird, I need to know by then. I did the flowers on my own yesterday, because hello… what man cares about flowers? And, I figured you and Trace could handle the beverages. Sound good?”
“Perfect.” I nod as Kristen rambles off the various items from her list.
I’ve gotta admit, I got pretty damn lucky with all this wedding arrangement crap. I still can’t quite figure out how, but I managed to find a woman who knows that the average guy doesn’t give two shits about centerpieces or china patterns.
I think we’ve found a pretty good balance with the whole planning process. She’s handling all the girly shit, while I get the easy stuff. Food, drinks, and music.
I’ve got it fuckin made and I’m well aware of it.
“Here… Trace.” She mutters disinterestedly as she passes me the phone, her eyes glued to the seating chart spread out on the table in front of her.
“Yeah?”
“Dude… let’s go out.”
Those words never lead anywhere good with my best friend, so yeah… I’m not moving my ass off this couch, plus… something tells me the missus wouldn’t approve if I just took off.
“Ehh… don’t think I can. Kris is working on the seating chart, and it’s my job to make sure you end up nowhere near a bridesmaid.”
“Hardy har fuckin har.” He mutters and I can just see him rolling his eyes. “Let’s just grab a beer or something. I’m bored shitless dude.”
“It’s fine, go.” Kristen smiles sweetly and pats my knee. “I’ve got this under control. Go, be a boy.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.” She nods before returning her attention to her chart.
“Alright man… I’ll pick you up in twenty.”
“Sweet.” The line goes dead and I do my best to cover up my excitement.
And yeah… I’m fuckin excited. Go ahead and mock me.
The thing is… I haven’t been out somewhere that didn’t involve baby or wedding shit in god knows how long, and despite the fact that something fucked up usually happens when you combine Trace and alcohol, I’m really glad to get out.
“You don’t need permission to go out, ya know.” Kristen calls out as I grab my jacket.
“I know… I just… figured you’d want me to help you or something.”
“Justin… we’re getting married, it’s not the end of your social life. I mean yeah, things are going to change, especially with Jacob taking up so much of our time, but there are baby sitters for a reason. We’re still allowed to have lives.”
“Got it.” I grin and press a quick kiss to her forehead before leaving the apartment.
I may not be an expert on the female psyche or anything, but I do know this much… you gotta read between the lines with women.
See, all through her little speech, I was actually hearing ‘don’t stay out late, don’t get drunk, and don’t make this a habit.’ Sure, those may not be the words she used, but women never say what they really mean. That’s just common sense.
And, I can guarantee you, had I agreed to go out, without even considering what she’d think, there’d be ten kinds of hell to pay when I got home.
And that’s the kind of shit I miss, coming and going as I please, not worrying about what somebody else thinks. Having a family almost takes away your free will. I mean yeah, you can do stuff and make decisions, but if the family doesn’t like it, you better believe you’re gonna have to give it up.
What you do with your time isn’t up to you anymore, and if I’m being totally honest… sometimes, that just fucking blows man.
*************************
“Hey… isn’t that, that guy?”
“What guy?” I peer around the bar in search of a familiar face, but come up empty handed.
“Ya know… that guy… the one you used to hang out with.”
“Oh yeah! That guy… right.” I mutter and roll my eyes as Trace gestures around the bar wildly.
I love the dude… but sometimes he’s as dense as shit. Especially once he’s had a few drinks. In a matter of seconds, I’m sure he’ll try to convince me that the bartender is my fiancé.
“You know… the gay one… he owns a store…. Or something. Colin…. Cody….shit.”
“Cooper?”
“Yeah! Cooper… that’s him man!”
I follow his gaze to a table in the corner and there’s no denying it. That’s definitely Cooper and Jules sitting there.
Talk about a small fuckin world.
It’s kinda funny how New York is supposed to be this gigantic ass city filled with millions upon millions of people, yet I always manage to run into the ones I have no desire to see.
Not that I’ve got beef with Cooper or Jules, but if they’re here…. Emma can’t be too far away.
And she’s the one I’d like to avoid at all costs. Mostly out of guilt, but does the reason really matter?
I’d like to say that whole thing was a prime example of youth and stupidity, but I genuinely liked the girl. Even more so for the fact that the usual lines and bullshit didn’t work on her.
She was completely un-phased by every trick I tried to use on her and I’ve gotta admit, it was pretty refreshing. And deep down… I just knew she’d cave, eventually.
Then he showed up.
Not to sound cocky or anything, but I’m not the type to be intimidated by another guy. It’s a well known fact that I’ve got enough confidence for five people, so yeah… another guy going after a chick I like normally wouldn’t sway me.
But that guy did.
I’d been trying to crack Emma for weeks. I used my best lines. I turned on the charm tenfold. None of it worked. All he did was fucking smile at her and she was putty in his hands.
If I hadn’t been so damn jealous, I probably would have found the whole thing fairly amusing.
But, I got over it. I met Kris, and granted, our relationship didn’t exactly take the natural course, I’d say it turned out fairly well.
And of course… that’s when Emma just had to show her face again.
“Holy. Shit.”
I jump slightly and turn to find a pair of wide blue eyes staring at me. God damnit.
“Holy. Fucking. Shit.”
“Ummm… hey… Jules.” I nod before grabbing my drink and downing it in one gulp.
“Holy shit. Holy shit.” She mutters before erupting into a fit of giggles. “What… the hell… are you… doing here?”
“Just… ya know… hanging out.” I shrug and glance at Trace, hoping he’ll be of some assistance.
Instead, the little asshole laughs at me. Some fuckin friend he is.
“Funny… I heard you’d been domesticated.”
Well… it’s nice to see that Jules is still as much of a smart ass as she ever was. But really, I don’t quite get the attitude.
I mean yeah, I did reject her best friend. Once. I can’t even begin to count the number of times Emma rejected me. So, if anything, I think a little sympathy is in order.
“I have a son, yes.”
“Ahh, lost the wife already?”
“No. We’re getting married in a couple months, actually.”
“Oooh… exciting.” She smirks and rolls her eyes. “So, like I said… domesticated.”
“Believe it or not, I’m really happy. It’s not a death sentence Jules.”
“Depends on who ya ask.” She shrugs. “So, who’s the lawn gnome?”
Ok… I have to give her credit for that one, cause it was actually pretty fuckin hilarious.
“This is Trace.” I manage to sputter out through my laughter. “Trace, Jules.”
“Yeah, whatever.” He mutters, a little too drunk to pick up on the fact that he’s just been insulted.
“So, is she… here?”
“Who? Em? God no. She’s doing this hermit, anti-social thing at the moment. We count ourselves lucky she even shows up for work. Apparently heartbreak does funny things to a girl. Who’da thunk it?”
Emma?
Heartbroken?
Yeah fuckin right.
That girl is as cold as they come. There is absolutely no way she’s still hung up on me.
Or…
Maybe Jules isn’t talking about me. After all, there was another person involved in that fucked up little circle.
“So, I guess she never got back with Max?”
“Oh god no.” Jules laughs and rolls her eyes. “She’s way too proud for that. It’s pretty rare for her to tuck her tail between her legs and go crawling back to somebody.” She shoots me a pointed look and I swallow hard.
Yep, she definitely meant me.
Shit.
“Jules.. I… I gotta… I gotta go.” I stutter dumbly. “It was good to see you.” I turn and practically sprint in the other direction. “C’mon… we’re leaving.” I bark as I grab Trace by the arm and haul him out of the bar.
See?
Something fucked up always happens when you go out with Trace.
