Walking Disaster

realization hit: as a couple, we weren’t going to work. No matter what I did, or how I finagled my way into her good graces, I would never be good enough for her. I
didn’t want her to end up with someone like me. I would just have to settle for whatever scraps of time I could get with her.
    Admitting that to myself was a jagged pill to swallow, but at the same time, a familiar voice whispered from the dark corners of my mind that I needed to fight for what I wanted. Fighting seemed
much easier than the alternative.
    “Let me make it up to you,” I said. “Why don’t we go to the Dutch tonight?” The Dutch was a hole-in-the-wall, but a lot less crowded than the Red. Not as many
vultures hanging around.
    “That’s a biker bar.” She frowned.
    “Okay, then let’s go to the club. I’ll take you to dinner and then we can go to the Red Door. My treat.”
    “How will going out to dinner and then to a club fix the problem? When people see us out together, it will make it worse.”
    I finished tying her bag to the back of my bike and then straddled the seat. She didn’t argue about the bag this time. That was always promising.
    “Think about it. Me, drunk, in a room full of scantily clad women? It won’t take long for people to figure out we’re not a couple.”
    “So what am I supposed to do? Take a guy home from the bar to drive the point home?”
    I frowned. The thought of her leaving with a guy made my jaw tense, as if I’d poured lemon juice in my mouth. “I didn’t say that. No need to get carried away.”
    She rolled her eyes, and then climbed onto the seat, wrapping her arms around my middle. “Some random girl is going to follow us home from the bar?
That’s
how you’re
going to make it up to me?”
    “You’re not jealous, are you, Pigeon?”
    “Jealous of
what
? The STD-infested imbecile you’re going to piss off in the morning?”
    I chuckled, and then started the engine. If she only knew how impossible that was. When she was around, everyone else seemed to disappear. It took all of my focus and concentration to stay a
step ahead of her.
    We informed Shepley and America of our plans, and then the girls began their routine. I hopped in the shower first, realizing too late that I should have been last, because the girls took a lot
longer than me and Shepley to get ready.
    Me, Shepley, and America waited for an eternity for Abby to come out of the bathroom, but when she finally emerged, I nearly lost my balance. Her legs looked like they went on forever in her
short, black dress. Her tits were playing peek-a-boo, just barely making their presence known when she turned a certain way, and her long curls hung off to the side instead of over her chest.
    I didn’t remember her being that tan, but her skin had a healthy glow against the dark fabric of her dress.
    “Nice legs,” I said.
    She smiled. “Did I mention the razor is magic?”
    Magic my ass. She was fucking gorgeous. “I don’t think it’s the razor.”
    I pulled her out the door by her hand, leading her to Shepley’s Charger. She didn’t pull it away, and I held it in mine until we got to the car. It felt wrong to let go. When we got
to the sushi restaurant, I interlaced my fingers between hers as we walked in.
    I ordered one round of sake, and then another. The waitress didn’t card us until I ordered beer. I knew America had a fake ID, and I was impressed when Abby whipped hers out like a champ.
Once the waitress looked it over and walked away, I grabbed it. Her picture was in the corner, and everything looked legit as far as I knew. I’d never seen a Kansas ID before, but this one
was flawless. The name read Jessica James, and for some reason, that turned me on. Hard.
    Abby flicked the ID, and it popped out of my grasp, but she caught it midflight to the floor, and within seconds it was hidden away inside her wallet.
    She smiled, and I smiled back, leaning on my elbows. “Jessica James?”
    She mirrored my position, leaning on her elbows and matching my stare. She was so confident. It was incredibly sexy.
    “Yeah. So?”
    “Interesting choice.”
    “So is the California Roll. Pansy.”
    Shepley burst into laughter, but stopped abruptly when America chugged her beer. “Slow down, baby. The sake hits late.”
    America wiped her mouth and grinned. “I’ve had sake, Shep. Stop worrying.”
    The more we drank, the louder we became. The waitstaff didn’t seem to mind, but that was probably because it was