The After of Us (Judge Me Not Spin-off) Read online

  Will

  The party is in full swing, and I am officially fucked-up.

  “Lick…” a sugary voice whispers as a set of double-D tits are thrust in my face. “…right here.”

  The well-endowed girl—I have no clue of her name—proceeds to straddle me.

  “Do it, man.”

  That’s Nash’s voice, in the background, urging me on. He brought the girl, along with about a hundred other people. Thank God I had the good sense to cordon off the party zone to the massive pool area in the back of my parents’ house.

  Salt glistens on the double-Ds in my face, beckoning me to do as the girl has requested—lick.

  Ah, hell, who am I to resist?

  Leaning forward in a lounger sagging from our weight, I lick and lap at the girl’s salty flesh. When I lean back, Nash hands me another shot of Patrón.

  I down the clear liquid in a single gulp.

  “Good boy,” double-Ds purrs.

  She produces a slice of lime from somewhere—maybe from her royal blue bikini bottom?—and holds it out to me, pinched between coral nails.

  Before I can accept the lime, she jerks her hand away. “Hey,” I protest.

  Giggling, she reaches around her back and undoes the tie holding up her bikini top. Next thing I know, she’s rubbing the lime wedge all over her wide nipples.

  Hungry for her flesh, I lean forward and suck in one sweet-ass, lime-flavored pink areola into my mouth.

  “Wanna fuck?” the girl whispers, as I lick and suck and grow hard beneath her wiggling ass.

  I do, but I don’t.

  Releasing her nipple from my mouth, I lean back in the chair. Nash has left. He clearly brought this blonde bimbo for me, as a going-away gift.

  Oh, what to do, what to do…?

  I scan the area, blinking as I take in all the glowing tiki torches amongst the red-rock grottos and waterfalls. It really is pretty back here, and private, in spots. Despite all the people milling about, there are about a half a dozen secluded grottos interspersed among the large cacti and frilly desert plants. Those grottos are perfect little nooks to sneak into and fuck like animals, if that’s what I’m inclined to do—and I sort of am.

  Only thing holding me back is that I don’t have a condom on me. Up in my room, yes, I have plenty. Unfortunately, though, since I’m comfortable and content underneath this girl, I have no inclination to run inside and tromp all that way up the goddamn stairs.

  I could always go bareback.

  No, shit, that’s the tequila talking. Cassie and I used to get careless when we were fucked up. But at least I knew she was clean. I’m not about to take that kind of a crazy chance with a stranger. Bad enough I’m already drunk and considering it.

  Damn, I’m going to be a wreck tomorrow for my flight.

  Sliding the girl down so she’s no longer pressing on my hard-on, I politely decline her offer.

  “Your loss,” she snaps as she re-ties her top and gets up off of me.

  “I’m sure it is,” I reply, adjusting myself.

  Double-Ds-chick takes off, with a huff, and becomes lost in the crowd in no time. I stay in the lounger a while longer, waiting for my dick to calm the fuck down. When I’m no longer sporting noticeable wood, I get up off my ass and make my way to the back door that leads to the kitchen. I need a break from the crowd, and a glass of water would do me a world of good right about now.

  No more tequila, I vow, and no more sucking random tits.

  “But they sure did taste fine,” I mutter to myself. Shit, I really need to get laid. “Fuck.”

  In my mom’s state-of-the-art kitchen, I turn on the fancy faucet. Lowering my head to the sink, I drink straight from the tap. Take that for fancy. I also splash some cold water on my face, hoping to sober up.

  I should feel good tonight, but I don’t. The party has been fun and all, but I still can’t shake that damn feeling of doom that sprung up yesterday at the store.

  This is ridiculous.

  Probably just my nerves getting the best of me, seeing as I leave to start a brand-new life in less than twelve hours.

  I stare out the window above the sink, taking in all the partygoers in the back. There’s a lot of drinking going on out there. People are laughing, talking, with little groups convened here and there. At one table, they’re passing around a blunt.

  God, I want to join them.

  I can almost taste the sweet herb and feel the burn in my lungs. And, in that moment, I want to get high, more than anything else.

  But that would not be smart.

  I can’t do it. I just can’t. I’m like my brother in that regard—for us, one high is never enough. We seek out the next, and the next, and the next. And I’m really bad. Lines of coke, a hit off a pipe containing, well, anything, I have no boundaries once I get going. That’s why I completely abstained from drugs at school. I never would have made it to graduation had I started down a path riddled with illegal substances.

  Even with legal ones, like alcohol, I have to watch.

  That’s why I’m in the kitchen right now, away from the booze, away from the drugs, away from girls offering me sex.

  “But this is your last night of true freedom, dumbass,” I tell myself.

  Call it temporary madness, or maybe it’s just me flat-out giving in to temptation. I don’t know. Blame it on the tequila. Or blame it on my whacked-out nerves. Whatever the case, an urge I can no longer deny compels me to run up to my room and grab a condom from a drawer.

  Ten minutes later, I’m in one of those secluded red-rock grottos, far enough from the pool that the splashing sounds are muted. My hands are gripping double Ds’ round ass, and my knees are getting chewed up by sand and concrete. But who the fuck cares? Not me, because, damn, my cock feels good, really good. And it looks good too, sliding in and out of a sopping-wet pussy that’s doing a damn fine job of making me feel as close to numb as I’m allowed to get this night.

  Will

  I finally discover double-D’s name—it’s Charlie.

  “With an i-e,” she tells me in a whiny voice as she works on getting dressed. Well, as dressed as one can get donning a string bikini.

  “Cool,” I reply. “Good to know.”

  I’m sure I sound distracted, as I’m trying to get my own damn clothes back on.

  Charlie—with an i-e—stops me, though, just as I’m slipping my tee over my head.

  With her hand pressed to my bare chest, she says, “Wait.”

  “What?” I ask.

  She caresses my pecs, mmm-ing as she does. “I think we should definitely keep in touch, Will,” she says at last.

  Not going to happen.

  I tug my shirt down over my chest, forcing her hand away. I really am done with this girl, but there’s no need to be an outright dick about it.

  “Uh, you do know I’m leaving for New York City, right?” I say.

  This hooking up was a good idea…and a not-so-good idea. Fucking this chick has left me feeling calm and relaxed, sure, but now comes the clingy shit that can make any man question his earlier actions.

  “Yeah, I know you’re leaving,” she replies. “But I’m sure you’ll come back to visit your family, right?”

  I shrug.

  My phone’s lying on the ground, having fallen out of my cargo shorts when I shed them in a rush.

  Charlie, following my gaze, snatches it up.

  “Here…” She starts tapping on the screen. “Let me just add my number to your contacts. No pressure, okay?”—yeah, right—“Just think about texting me or calling next time you’re in town.”

  “Sure, okay.”

  Time to get away.

  “You had fun tonight, didn’t you?” She raises a brow and gestures to where she was on her hands and knees, taking it like a champ.

  I had a fine time, yes, but I downplay it now, lest she start thinking it meant more than it did.

  “It was nice, Charlie.” I place my hand on the small of her sweaty back and l
ead her back to the party area. “I better walk around and mingle,” I say. “I am leaving, after all. And this is my party.”

  I think she finally gets the hint that I’m trying to let her down easily.

  “Oh, okay. That’s cool.” She peers into the thinning crowd. “Hey, I think I see one of my friends over there, anyway.” She starts to walk away, but then falters and looks back at me. Shooting me a small smile, she says, “Bye, Will.”

  “Yeah, see ‘ya.”

  God, I am such a dick sometimes, even when I’m trying not to be one.

  It’s late—later than I realized—and people are starting to leave en masse. Nash is one of the last to go, but before he takes off he comes over and wishes me good luck with my new job.

  “You have fun with Charlie?” he asks with a conspiratorial wink.

  “Yeah,” I reply, chuckling. “You could say it was fun.”

  “Good.” He pats me on the back. “Hey, we’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

  “Sure.”

  Nash gives me one of his business cards from the lab. “Text me when you’re back in town.” He waves his hand at a cluster of red plastic cups on one of the tables, unintentionally reminding me that I have a lot of cleaning up to do. “We’ll do this again sometime.”

  “Yeah, sounds good,” I tell him.

  “Cool. See you around.”

  And then he’s gone.

  It’s two o’clock in the morning, but since I’m leaving in a few hours, I am far too amped to sleep.

  I jog upstairs and take a quick shower to wash away the tequila-laced memories of Miss Double-Ds. Then, I head back outside to start cleaning up the pool area.

  Will

  By three a.m., things are in good order. Good enough, that is. The cleaning lady is due in tomorrow—or, technically, later today—so she can deal with the rest.

  Before heading up to bed, I walk around to the front of the house so I can close and lock the heavy wrought iron gates at the end of the driveway. Everything is usually quiet when it’s late like this, but tonight there’s a yellow cab idling across from the house.

  That’s odd.

  Things grow even stranger when the cabbie rolls down his window and spits out onto the street. This is a nice neighborhood, and shit like that just doesn’t happen.

  The gates are in the process of closing, but I hit the control panel and stop them mid-swing. “Hey, you lost?” I call over to the grubby driver.

  He ignores me completely as he lights up a smoke.

  “Dickhead,” I mutter under my breath.

  Just as I’m turning away, about to hit the command button to close the gates the rest of the way, the back door of the taxi pops open. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a super-skinny girl with stringy dishwater-blonde hair spilling out onto the road. Like, literally, the chick almost eats concrete.

  I walk out to the sidewalk to see what the hell is up.

  As the girl rights herself and adjusts the light blue tank top and jean shorts she’s wearing, I sense something familiar about her. Unfortunately, there are far too many shadows being cast by the dim glow of the fancy gas street lamps for me to discern if I know this girl…or not.

  I’m about to close the gate, for real this time, but just then the scraggly girl starts walking over to where I’m standing. I am afforded a much clearer view, and am soon muttering, “What the…?”

  First, it’s clear the girl is a druggie. No one clean and sober scratches at their bare arms like this chick’s doing, nor do they tug repeatedly and methodically at the hem of their shirt. Oh, and they definitely don’t move their mouths in weird ways.

  This girl does all of those things. So, yeah, I conclude she’s a user.

  As she draws nearer and nearer, it hits me—shit, I know this girl. Hell, I used to love this girl.

  “Cassie?” I mutter, amazed and appalled all at the same time.

  My ex-girlfriend must’ve moved back to Las Vegas at some point, but, clearly, things aren’t going so well.

  Maybe I’m dreaming all this?

  I pinch myself. No, not dreaming.

  As the strung-out girl reaches me, any lingering doubt is erased. This is definitely my one-time girlfriend, my first love, Cassie Sutter.

  Fuck, though, man. She sure is a shadow of her former self. If there was ever a reason for me to be grateful I swore off drugs, this is it.

  “Will,” Cassie says softly when she sees recognition on my face.

  Her voice still hints at vulnerability, but there’s a hard, gravelly edge that used to not be there.

  “Cassie,” I croak out as emotions I didn’t count on well up. I loved this girl once and, truth is, it hurts to see her like this.

  “Hey.” She smiles wide, and shit….

  The smile I was about to send back falters.

  Cassie quickly looks away.

  Wow, just wow. And not a good kind of wow. The girl I once loved used to have this gorgeous, all-American smile. Not anymore. Her teeth are now yellowed and stained, and one is flat-out missing.

  “God, Cass,” I blurt out without thinking. “What the hell happened to you?”

  Her head jerks back to me sharply. “Nice to see you, too,” she snaps, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

  I barely hear her. All I can think is that Cassie needs help. Like, immediately. Her addiction is spinning out of control.

  “You want me to take you to a hospital or something?” I offer. “You can check in for a psych evaluation. You might even be able to slip into a rehab center as early as tom—”

  Cassie recoils like I smacked her. “Rehab? Psych evaluation? I don’t need those things, Will.”

  Scoffing, I say, “Uh, actually, I think you do, Cassie.”

  And just like that, she’s infuriated. “Jesus, you’re still such an arrogant prick. You always were. Have you forgotten your past? Like you never got fucked up?” She lets out a nasty cackle. “I, for one, know you did just as many drugs as me.”

  “It was never like this,” I maintain as I strive to remain calm. “I wasn’t a junkie.”

  “I’m not a junkie,” she hisses. “And, you know what? Fuck you, Will. Just fuck you.” She throws her hands in the air. “This was a mistake. I never should’ve come here.”

  “Why are you here, anyway?” I shoot back. “Showing up at my house at three in the morning? What the hell could you possibly want from me after all these years?”

  This is how it got at the end of our relationship. We were always bickering, always snapping at each other.

  But, really, why is she here?

  I always thought if I ever ran into Cassie someday she’d be this beautiful older version of the cute, quirky teen I used to know—the girl with ethereal features, tiny and small, all wispy blonde hair and translucent skin. I guess I always imagined her clean and leading a normal life.

  And this is so not that version. This Cassie makes me sad. And I really do want to help, if she’ll let me.

  “Look, I’m sorry, okay?” I swallow twice to keep my voice even. This is upsetting on so many levels, but I don’t want to show her how distraught I really feel. It will only upset her further.

  “Seriously, Cass,” I continue after a beat. “If you’re coming to me, I can only guess it’s because you want my help in some way.”

  Our eyes meet, and for, like, a minute, I see the old Cassie. Despite the fact her pale blues are unfocused and distant.

  “Let me help,” I whisper, hoping to break through her defenses. “Please.”

  There is a part of me that will always care for Cassie. I loved her first, and I loved her hard.

  She sniffs and rubs her nose, and then she looks away.

  “I do need your help with something,” she says at last, the moment lost. “But what I want from you has nothing to do with psych evals and fucking rehab.”

  She’s not going to let me help her, not with the drug issue, anyway.

  Sighing, I fold my arms across my chest. “What is
it you want, then?” It finally dawns on me that someone must have told her I was in town. “How’d you know I’d be here at the house? I was in California until just the other day.”

  “I know.” She smiles again, but carefully, so as not to expose her teeth this time. “But word got out that you were back,” she tells me.

  “What do you mean, ‘word got out’? You stay in touch with our old friends?”

  I’m suspicious, as not a soul mentioned Cassie earlier tonight. Was this some kind of setup?

  Cassie must remember my “tells”—the little quirks that always gave away what I was thinking—as she’s quick to say, “This wasn’t planned, Will. No one was “in” on me showing up, okay? That’s why I waited for the party to clear out.”

  “You knew about the party?”

  Chuckling, she lifts her hand to show me a scratched-up, beaten-to-hell-and-back smartphone. “I like to stay up-to-date with social media, though I really don’t know why. It’s not like I ever talk to anyone we used to know—not anymore. I guess old habits die hard, you know?” She blows out a breath. “Anyway, I still follow a few people. Someone mentioned something about your party on Twitter.” She purses her lips. “Or maybe it was on Facebook.”

  I raise a brow. “Was it Nash?”

  Cassie nods. “Yeah, I think it was his page I was looking at.”

  Of course, after I asked, Nash would’ve posted news of my party all over social media. That’s why so many people showed up on such short notice. And that’s how Cassie knew I’d be here.

  But she obviously had no interest in the party, so again I ask, “Why are you here, Cass?”

  She glances over at the cab. The driver still has his window down and, although there’s no way he can hear us, he gives Cassie a shrug and an accompanying questioning look.

  “You know him?” I ask, jerking my chin to the cab.

  “He’s a friend.”

  Cassie digs a little white pill from the front pocket of her shorts. When she pops it into her mouth, I am stunned. She looks high enough already.