Lost & Bound by Tara Hart

many. “You’re not thinking about that chick
again?”
    That chick .
He’s referring to Leila. She is constantly on my mind, invading my thoughts,
but I’m not about to admit that to Eric.
    “What chick?” I feign ignorance.
    “You know, Leila.”
    When he says her name I feel my face warm,
like he’s reminded me that she’s real and not just a figment of my imagination.
    I dismissively shake my head as I try not
to give anything away.
    I wonder what Leila is doing right now. Is
she alone or is he with her, doing
things to her that I can’t even imagine, and perhaps don’t want to. I imagine
her huddled on her bed, tears filling her intense chocolate brown eyes as she
waits for him to rip the clothes from her body before invading her as if she’s
his. Fuck, I can’t shake the thought from my mind. The image of her deep brown
eyes piercing my brain as Eric continues babbling.
    “Maybe Amy can take your mind off her?”
    Part of me thinks I should take Amy home.
Maybe I can have one night of mind-numbing sex and shake Leila from my thoughts
once and for all. But no matter how hard I try I can’t pretend to be interested
in Amy. The way she’s throwing herself at me does little to turn me on and
despite what Eric thinks, she’s not my type.
    “I think I’ll just head home, man.”
    Eric doesn’t hide his disappointment. He
shakes his head while he flicks the bartender a twenty for the next round of
drinks.
    “One more drink and we’ll head home. Come
back to the booth and be sociable.”
    I reluctantly pick up my beer and follow
him back to the booth where Bianca and Amy are sitting. Amy offers me a toothy
smile and I hesitantly take my seat next to her.
    She snatches my beer before I get a chance
to set it down and she takes a long swig, keeping her eyes fixed on me the
entire time.
    “I think Eric bought you a drink.” I point
to the three beers that Eric put on the table.
    “Yours tastes better,” she says with a
wink.
    I don’t bother telling her it’s the same
beer. I don’t want to insult her poor attempt at flirtation.
    “So, Callum, what do you do with yourself?”
Bianca asks me. Eric has his arm draped over her shoulder casually. He raises
his eyebrows and gives me a knowing smirk. He put her up to this.
    “I’m out of work at the moment,” I say
unapologetically.
    If I come across as a twenty-eight-year-old
low life with no prospects to speak of maybe Amy will give up the charade and
move her attention elsewhere. Plus it’s the truth. I have no writing jobs lined
up. Since I’ve been back in the States I’d met with one newspaper, but the
arrangement wouldn’t work. They wanted me in the office. I was used to working
freelance, having my own schedule, working my own hours. I like freedom and I'm
not desperate enough to settle.
    Bianca forces a smile. “But what do you do when
you are working?”
    “He’s a journalist,” Eric says before I
have a chance to answer.
    Amy doesn’t hold back her excitement. “You
must have a way with words then?” she runs her hand over my leg and I pull away
to the edge of the booth.
    “Kind of.” I shrug.
    Eric glares daggers into my forehead.
    Amy doesn’t take the hint. Her hand makes
its way to my inner thigh. She strokes my leg through my jeans, getting
dangerously close to my cock.
    “Okay, that’s it.” I stand from my seat and
hold my hands in the air in surrender. “I’m going home.”
    Amy’s mouth forms a giant O as her eyes go
wide and her cheeks turn red. Eric pushes Bianca from the booth and rushes to
my side.
    “Are you serious? You’re the worst wingman
ever,” he seethes into my ear.
    I shrug my shoulders and offer him a smirk.
“Do what you want, but the blonde isn’t coming home with me.”
    Eric throws his hands in the air
dramatically as he watches me walk out of the bar. I know I’m being a shitty
friend, but going out and picking up chicks seems like the wrong thing to be
doing now.
    The taxi stand is full