I reached out and patted her hand. "This is your house, and you have nothing to be sorry about. Although, I'm probably going to avoid looking Liam in the eye for a few days." I wasn't joking. Liam's grunts and the words, "Yeah, cum all over Daddy's dick," were engraved in my skull.
Not taking me seriously, Amelia simply laughed her face still the color of beetroot. She snatched my cup and took a tentative sip, only to gag and shove it back towards me. Maybe while she was in the shower, I would be nice and make my poor, suffering friend a Bloody Mary.
"It just reminded me that it's been a long time since I've gotten laid. Almost a year," I mused to myself.
Even though I had left high school with my virginity intact—despitewhat the walls in the girl's bathroom had said—I hadn't been planning on saving myself for a future permanent partner. Plus, even if Iwasinterested in anyone in high school, the guys I went with either bullied or ignored me.
College guys were a little better on the maturity scale, and it helped that I went to school thousands of miles away from Ashburton. I was able to start over fresh. I lost my virginity eight months into my freshman year. Tony had been friendly, kind, and smart. We dated for a while and broke it off about a month after the deed, much to his disappointment. I was far too busy with coursework that I barely saw him anyway. I also wasn't the "friends with benefits" type of person.
I had two more sexual partners after Tony, one even lasting a year. But then I got so caught up in my new job that dating and sex became the last thing on my mind.
I did miss it, though. It didn't help that when I thought of sex, a picture of a certain dark-haired, brown-eyed, dimpled football coach sprang to mind.
"Ayear?" Amelia recoiled in horror.
"Hey, we can't all meet the love of our life when we're fifteen. You've been getting the D regular since you were sixteen," I reminded her.
"Yeah, I know. But a year?" She scrunched her nose up.
I shrugged and made a mental note to start dating again when I returned to San Francisco. Maybe I should try one of those dating apps? A few of my girlfriends were on them and seemed to have a date nearly every week.
My issue was that I couldn't be bothered going through the motions of dating. Sitting in a too-loud bar, asking questions like, "So, how many siblings do you have?" or "What's your favorite meal?" I didn't do wellconversationallyunder those conditions.
All my lovers had been friends first, so the awkward "getting to know you" part had been fulfilled, and our friendship seamlessly morphed into romance.
"Sooo...." Amelia started, suddenly looking a lot more perky. "I saw you chatting to Harrison last night." Her brows did a little dance.
I rolled my eyes as I buried my nose in my cup. I refrained from reminding her that I was forced into speaking with him because my so-called best friend had abandoned me faster than a racehorse. "Kinda hard to ignore the dude since hell has frozen over, and he's good friends with you both."
"But hasn't he changed so much? You noticed, right? He's just done a full one-eighty." She propped her chin on her fist, staring at me expectantly. It was hard to take Amelia seriously with kohl smudged around her eyes.
"I admit, he is marginally more tolerable now," I diplomatically replied. "But I'm hardly gonna follow him on Insta and be buddies with him. I mean, apart from the rehearsal dinner and wedding itself, I'm barely going to spend any time with him."
In a split second, the smile dropped from Amelia's face. A guilty shadow passed over her pretty features. "Actually…," she started, straightening her stance. "Okay, don't hate me."
I was hit by a feeling of déjà vu from when she last uttered that sentence to me. It didn't end well. I arched my brow, apprehension sinking in my gut over her ominous statement. "What now? Don't tell me we're having a joint bachelor and bachelorette?"
Amelia waved her hand in the air, dismissing that idea. "No way. But you know how I told you that I was on the planning committee for our reunion?"
"Yeah..." Where was she going with this? A feeling of dread settled in the pit of my stomach. My appetite vanished, and I set my drink aside.
"Well..." Amelia looked down, swirling her finger against an invisible spot on the counter. "I may have over-exerted myself."
"No, shit," I surmised. "I could've told you that."
"But I promised the committee that I would be involved in the planning, and I extra promised that the wedding would be no problem and that I could do both."
"Again, I could've told you that,no, you couldn't."
Before Amelia could respond, I quickly cut in. "So we don't go. Your wedding is more important, and they'll understand. These things happen. No harm, no foul. We won't go," I firmly finished.
Amelia glanced up at me, her make-up-smeared face red with guilt. That feeling of dread burst through like a bull out of the pen.
"No," I tersely said.
"Please, please, please?" She begged, her brow furrowed in pleading. "It's only, like, three meetings before the event, and all you have to do is show your face and make some suggestions. Maybe help with the setup."
"Amelia -"
