Twenty-Eight
Savage
After my conversation with Laila in the laundry room, she played a few rounds of Beer Pong with her friends, while I sat at the fire feature, watching her while pretending to listen to Jon Stapleton, my co-judge, give me advice about being on the show. But when Laila left her post at Beer Pong to play Team Jenga—during which she was paired with Alessandra, thankfully, while Fish was paired with Colin—I excused myself from Jon, grabbed a bottle of whiskey from behind Reed’s bar, and slithered my shitfaced ass into a dark corner to watch her.
The good news? As promised in the laundry room, Laila’s been noticeably ignoring Colin’s flirtations during their entire game. The bad news? Based on Colin’s body language, it seems clear he’s the sort of sick fuck, like me, who gets off when a hot woman ignores him.
A large whoop rises up from the game as Aloha’s husband, Zander, makes a move for his two-person team—Aloha and himself. And in response, everyone but Zander and his popstar wife throws back another shot, at which point Colin leans into Laila and says something that makes her throw her head back and laugh.
It’s worst-case scenario, actually, because I can tell Laila wasn’t trying to flirt with Colin. She didn’t laugh to mess with me. He genuinely made her involuntarily guffaw. I’ve got to think that’s a very bad sign for me.
My inebriated blood flash-boiling, I jerk to standing, every fiber of my body telling me to march over there and mark my territory. To kiss her in front of Colin. And then throw Colin into the fire.
“No, Savage,” a voice says sharply. And when I look, it’s my boy, Kendrick, standing before me and physically blocking my movement with his muscular body. “Sit down, brother,” he says. “Don’t do it.”
The devil on my shoulder is whispering, “Do it.” But, somehow, I manage to reply casually to my friend, “Don’t do what?”
“Whatever you drunkenly decided to do to Colin.” He points at my chair. “Sit back down and listen to me for a minute.”
Reluctantly, I sit. Kendrick rarely orders me around. So, when he does, I listen. “I wasn’t gonna do anything bad,” I murmur. “I was just . . .” I trail off. There’s no point. Kendrick’s staring at me like he can read my mind. Which he probably can. He’s known me for almost half my life now. He, better than anyone, knows how my mind works.
Kendrick takes the chair next to me and leans his forearms on his knees. “It’s time for you to put that bottle down, walk inside the house, and go to bed.”
“I’m not ready for bed yet.”
“Nothing good will come of you sitting here, alone in a dark corner, drinking whiskey from a bottle, watching Laila get hit on by Colin.”
“Aha! So, you admit he’s been hitting on her! I told you so.”
Kendrick leans back. “I think he’s doing it to piss you off, more than anything else. So, don’t give him the satisfaction. Play it cool, brother.”
I take another long sip of whiskey and mutter, “Tonight was supposed to be a fun last hurrah before I’m not allowed to drink anymore. I thought Laila and I would party together. I never intended to sit here, alone, marinating in whiskey and jealousy.”
“Then get up and join the party. You always do this, Savage.”
“I don’t want to join the party. I want to sit here, alone.”
“Then, that’s your problem.”
“But when I pulled Laila into the laundry room, she said she’d stay in character, from now on. And yet, she’s been playing games with her friends, and Colin, ever since.”
Kendrick blinks slowly. “When you pulled Laila into the laundry room . . .?”
I immediately realize my mistake. “To talk to her . . . about the importance of keeping up the charade at all times. So the truth doesn’t get out.”
He’s onto me. “You told her you’re jealous of Colin.”
“Of course not. I simply told her she can’t flirt with Colin, or anyone else, because someone could see that and post about it.”
“You dragged Laila into a laundry room and chewed her out about Colin, didn’t you? And now you’re sitting here, drinking from a bottle in a dark corner, watching her with him like a stalker. Like Reed behind that bush, however many months ago. Does that summarize the situation accurately?”
I pause, weighing my options. And quickly decide lying to Kendrick isn’t in my DNA. I speak on an exhale, “Yeah. That’s pretty much it. I’ve become Reed fucking Rivers, standing behind a bush.”
Kendrick leans back and rubs his face. “When will you learn?” He takes a second to collect himself before letting out a long exhale and sitting forward again. “Okay, buddy. Listen to me. I know this chick better than you do. Do you want her?”
I groan. “So much.”
“Then, it’s simple. You have to remember she’s exactly like you. I love you both, okay, so this is said with love. But you’re both the same kind of sick fuck. You both always want what you can’t have. The truth is, if you knew Laila like I do, I don’t even think you’d even want her. Not the real her. She’s actually super nice. A sweetheart.”
“Yeccch.”
“Exactly. You’d hate her, if you knew her.”
“She sounds awful.”
“She is. Awfully sweet and cool and funny and surprisingly goofy. None of which you know about her, I’m sure, because you’re always on the outside, looking in. Provoking her. Savage, I’m not trying to piss you off here. I’m saying I think you want her because
