Read Online Chapter and Verse by Jo Willow, Sharon Gurley-Headley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jo Willow, Sharon Gurley-Headley
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left me there on my own while you snuck out with... whatever she was. Some friend you turned out to be. Go home and leave me alone. I deserved better than that.”
My back was pressed to the door and I fought the urge to cry. I didn’t even know why, but I think it was out of frustration. Deacon was the first date I’d consented to in almost three years and I thought we were friends. I was buying into the “great guy” persona. I hadn’t even known him a week and I’d told him I trusted him. The sad thing was, I’d meant it. I did trust him. The end result proved why I can’t trust myself. And that’s why I wanted to cry. Not for him, I wanted to cry for me.
“ You’re right. You did deserve better. I fucked up and I’m an idiot. I don’t deserve your friendship and you have a right to withhold it from me. That’s more than fair. Are you still gonna write about me?”
“ I don’t know Deacon. The way I’m feeling right now? You don’t want to read anything I have to say about you. Trust ME on that.”
“ Okay. I deserve that too. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Truly sorry. I’m a shit friend but to be honest? I don’t have many friends.”
“ Do you wonder why?”
“ I guess not, what I’m saying is, there should be a learning curve or something. I’m not used to looking out for anyone but myself. It’s weird. I feel bad that I left you and I feel bad that I hurt your feelings. You were so beautiful last night Dor’. It was no reflection on you whatsoever, I swear. I have history with Sylvia and it was easy to...”
“ Spare me the details Deacon, I could give a rat’s ass. We’re not going steady, hell, we’re not going anything. We’re not even friends.”
“ Don’t say that! I wanna be a better friend and I want you to write my bio. Don’t give up on me Dor’. Please?”
“ Go away Deacon. I can’t deal with you right now.”
“ Okay I’ll go. But I’d rather come in and make this up to you.”
“ Make it up to me? How? Do my nails? Scrub my floor? Watch a film? No thanks Deke. Just go home and let me sleep.”
“ Sleep? It’s not bedtime yet, why are you sleeping? Are you depressed? Did I depress you bad enough that you’re sleeping all day?”
“ Oh for the love of god Deacon, I’m tired! I’m wiped and sad and I wanna be left alone. I’m going to bed now, so go home. Please Deacon, just go home.”
My voice broke and I couldn’t help it. As sad as he sounded, I felt twice as bad. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and he had the luxury of perfect vision, but sorry or not, it didn’t change a thing. I couldn’t trust Deacon Sloan as far as I could throw the brunette he dumped me for last night.
If he said anything else, I wasn’t around to hear it. I gathered my pillow and comforter and traveled the hall to my bedroom. I closed the door and blocked out any further sound.
I slept so soundly, I don’t remember dreaming. I woke up to sunlight streaming in through my bedroom window, with a hint of a headache that had the potential to be a pounder if I didn’t quiet it with caffeine.
I had a tank top and short jogging shorts on, I hadn’t looked, but I was positive I also had bedhead from hell. I didn’t care. All of the above could be rectified, but not without coffee. My priorities were clear.
I stumbled down the hall, my eyes half open my goal in sight. I didn’t have time to go out, I’d have to settle for my trusted Mr. Coffee. Then, a shower.
I’d pulled down the cannister with my Guatemalan specialty coffee when the doorbell chimed. I moaned and placed the cannister on the counter.
“ No. Not this early. No way.”
I crept to the door and peeked into the hallway. A young man stood there holding a vase of roses. Flowers? This early? Well shit. It wasn’t the guy’s fault and I couldn’t in all good
My back was pressed to the door and I fought the urge to cry. I didn’t even know why, but I think it was out of frustration. Deacon was the first date I’d consented to in almost three years and I thought we were friends. I was buying into the “great guy” persona. I hadn’t even known him a week and I’d told him I trusted him. The sad thing was, I’d meant it. I did trust him. The end result proved why I can’t trust myself. And that’s why I wanted to cry. Not for him, I wanted to cry for me.
“ You’re right. You did deserve better. I fucked up and I’m an idiot. I don’t deserve your friendship and you have a right to withhold it from me. That’s more than fair. Are you still gonna write about me?”
“ I don’t know Deacon. The way I’m feeling right now? You don’t want to read anything I have to say about you. Trust ME on that.”
“ Okay. I deserve that too. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Truly sorry. I’m a shit friend but to be honest? I don’t have many friends.”
“ Do you wonder why?”
“ I guess not, what I’m saying is, there should be a learning curve or something. I’m not used to looking out for anyone but myself. It’s weird. I feel bad that I left you and I feel bad that I hurt your feelings. You were so beautiful last night Dor’. It was no reflection on you whatsoever, I swear. I have history with Sylvia and it was easy to...”
“ Spare me the details Deacon, I could give a rat’s ass. We’re not going steady, hell, we’re not going anything. We’re not even friends.”
“ Don’t say that! I wanna be a better friend and I want you to write my bio. Don’t give up on me Dor’. Please?”
“ Go away Deacon. I can’t deal with you right now.”
“ Okay I’ll go. But I’d rather come in and make this up to you.”
“ Make it up to me? How? Do my nails? Scrub my floor? Watch a film? No thanks Deke. Just go home and let me sleep.”
“ Sleep? It’s not bedtime yet, why are you sleeping? Are you depressed? Did I depress you bad enough that you’re sleeping all day?”
“ Oh for the love of god Deacon, I’m tired! I’m wiped and sad and I wanna be left alone. I’m going to bed now, so go home. Please Deacon, just go home.”
My voice broke and I couldn’t help it. As sad as he sounded, I felt twice as bad. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and he had the luxury of perfect vision, but sorry or not, it didn’t change a thing. I couldn’t trust Deacon Sloan as far as I could throw the brunette he dumped me for last night.
If he said anything else, I wasn’t around to hear it. I gathered my pillow and comforter and traveled the hall to my bedroom. I closed the door and blocked out any further sound.
I slept so soundly, I don’t remember dreaming. I woke up to sunlight streaming in through my bedroom window, with a hint of a headache that had the potential to be a pounder if I didn’t quiet it with caffeine.
I had a tank top and short jogging shorts on, I hadn’t looked, but I was positive I also had bedhead from hell. I didn’t care. All of the above could be rectified, but not without coffee. My priorities were clear.
I stumbled down the hall, my eyes half open my goal in sight. I didn’t have time to go out, I’d have to settle for my trusted Mr. Coffee. Then, a shower.
I’d pulled down the cannister with my Guatemalan specialty coffee when the doorbell chimed. I moaned and placed the cannister on the counter.
“ No. Not this early. No way.”
I crept to the door and peeked into the hallway. A young man stood there holding a vase of roses. Flowers? This early? Well shit. It wasn’t the guy’s fault and I couldn’t in all good
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