Use Me Read online

  “To you?” I laughed.

  “No, in general.”

  The answer was on the tip of my tongue, but there was something deep inside me that wanted to elaborate. It was a crazy feeling. I didn’t know much of anything about Ashtyn except for what she did for a living. I knew she was at the Emmy Awards for the past few years, but our paths had never crossed. Now we were both nursing our heartaches with booze and apparently talking about marriage.

  “Yes,” I simply answered.

  “My ex didn’t. Actually, that’s what he had started to say when he was breaking up with me, but then he let me know I wasn’t the only one he was seeing.” Her cell phone buzzed against the wood top and we both stared at her phone. It was lying face down, so she couldn’t tell who had texted her.

  “His ears are burning,” I said, assuming it was her ex.

  Ashtyn looked up to meet my gaze. “Should I read it?”

  I thought for a moment. “Why did you come to this fine establishment?” I waved my arm behind me to indicate the dimly lit, brick-walled bar.

  “To forget.”

  “Me too,” I agreed. “So put your phone away and help me forget.”

  Her lips slowly spread into a grin. “I have a better idea.”

  “Oh?”

  She grabbed the phone off the bar, pulled up the camera mode, flipped the view to take a selfie and said, “Lean over.”

  I did without hesitation, a huge grin on my face. Just before Ashtyn was about to snap the picture, I leaned in farther and placed a kiss on her bare shoulder where her sweater had slipped down. Just as my lips met her soft skin, I heard the click of the shutter. She didn’t say anything as she slowly turned her head to look at me.

  “Sorry. Take another.”

  I wasn’t sorry. In fact, I’d do it again, but instead, we posed for the picture, both with huge smiles, and then the shutter clicked again. I watched as Ashtyn clicked the Facebook app on her phone to post the picture. “Oh, let me friend you.” I grabbed my phone, searched her name on Facebook, and sent the request.

  “I think the asshole’s still my friend.”

  “And the bitch is still mine, so make sure you tag me.” I smirked.

  “That’s the plan.”

  After she posted the picture, I held my finger down on the image on Facebook and saved it to my camera roll. I wanted to ask her to send me the other, but I didn’t. Instead, I asked, “Want another drink?”

  “I better not or I’ll be over the edge and slurring my words.”

  “You haven’t forgotten,” I pointed out.

  She stared into my eyes. “Then help me forget.”

  I was trying to play it cool.

  I was a thirty-three-year-old adult who’d just had her heart broken, and now I was talking to one of the most breathtaking men I’d ever laid eyes on. Granted if I’d known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have drunk half a bottle of wine at my house. The wine and cinnamon whiskey were helping me forget, but I was on the breaking point. If I stood, I might not be able to walk straight. I could picture the headline now:

  Breaking News: Ashtyn Valor got naked wasted with Rhys Cole last night.

  Even though I’d just posted the picture of us on Facebook, I wasn’t ready for the entire world to know that we were fake boyfriend and girlfriend. I just wanted one person to know. I wanted Corey to see the picture and regret ever breaking my heart.

  Rhys didn’t seem heartbroken about his breakup, and he was trying to get naked wasted with me. Friends with benefits? I’d heard once that there was no such thing as friends with benefits because there would always be one person who wanted more. I didn’t want more. I’d just broken up with Corey, and I never thought in a million years that I would have met a new guy tonight, but I wanted to get naked wasted with him. I mean, what woman with a pulse wouldn’t?

  Rhys had a jock vibe about him. His finger-length dark brown hair was enticing me to run my fingers through it, and the way his electric blue eyes were staring into my green ones, made me want to open up and tell him all my secrets. And when he would smile his crooked smile that made his dimples show, I wanted to crawl into his lap and touch his smooth face as I kissed him senseless.

  “You haven’t forgotten,” he said.

  I, in fact, hadn’t forgotten Corey. I knew I wouldn’t in just a few hours, but as I stared into Rhys blue eyes, the words slipped from my mouth. “Then help me forget.”

  He smirked, leaned forward, and before I realized it, his lips were attached to mine. I could taste the whiskey as his tongue parted my lips. I didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t. Kissing Corey had turned into sweet little hello or goodbye kisses. No tongue unless we were having sex and then it didn’t last because we’d get straight to the point. But the way Rhys was kissing me was completely different. It wasn’t innocent. It was hot, passionate and fiery. Just like the Fireball whiskey we’d consumed not too long ago. The whiskey had warmed my insides, and so was the way Rhys was using his tongue to help me forget. His hand cupped the back of my nape, and I wanted to thread my hands through his dark brown hair, but I resisted. We were in public, and both locally in the limelight.

  “Well?” he asked after I pulled back.

  “I’m getting there.”

  Then as though we hadn’t kissed, Rhys changed the subject, and we talked about work. He told me how his game was canceled tonight for a fluke ice issue, and I told him about the nightly news, my goals, and everything that my buzzed mouth wanted to spill. Being in my line of work, I had to stay up on everything, so when Rhys talked about the current season for the Blackhawks and how he thought they’d fair, I was able to follow along, especially since my dad and brothers were hardcore fans and Corey never missed a game.

  “Bridgette hated sports.”

  I blinked at his confession. “Don’t get me wrong, but how can a guy who has a career in the sports industry date a woman that hates sports?”

  He shrugged. “The sex was great.”

  I chuckled. “Apparently you weren’t giving it to her enough.”

  He tsked. “Bustin’ my balls already, Ashtyn? That’s a low blow.”

  “Not sure I have room to talk. My ex is probably already screwing one of his other women.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  Rhys’s words stung. I’d have to be blacked out drunk for them not to hurt or for me to forget. “Who’s your favorite player?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “In general or that play for the Hawks?”

  “Both?”

  He grinned as though he was a kid about to talk about his hero. “Well, my all-time favorite has to be Gretzky. There’s no kid who grew up in the eighties and nineties, who loved hockey, and didn’t think they were going to be just like Wayne.”

  “My dad and brothers talked about him all the time when I was a kid.”

  “Yeah, he was one of the greats.”

  “And who’s your favorite all-time Blackhawk?”

  “Well, when I was about ten-years-old, I thought I was going to turn pro. That was my dream because I’d been playing since I was five, and at ten I thought I was hot shit. Gretzky was in his prime, but I didn’t get to watch him play every game because he was never a Hawk and back then we only got to watch local sports. But the one guy who stuck out to me that year was Jeremy Roenick. He helped the Blackhawks reach the Stanley Cup Finals that season and scored over a hundred points in three of his eight seasons. I also liked him because he was rough and strong and fought his way past his opponents to drive the net. I wanted to be just like him.”

  “Did you play in the NHL?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “I was never drafted. I used to be pissed because that was my dream, but now I don’t get beat up for a living.”

  “They do fight a lot, huh?” I chuckled. I knew fighting was technically okay in hockey, I’d just never seen one before. But Rhys was making me want to watch a game.

  “Yeah, they do.”

  “Have yo
u ever met this Roenick guy?”

  Rhys frowned a little. “Nah. He was traded way before I decided to become a sportscaster.”

  “He has to play for visiting teams though, right?”

  “He retired back in ’09, and I never got the chance.”

  “Last call,” the bartender said to Rhys.

  Rhys turned to me. “Want one more?”

  I smiled. “I’m good. I should head home.” I hadn’t realized how late it was. Now, all of a sudden, it was two in the morning.

  “I’ll walk you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rhys paid the tab, including my first glass of wine, while I shrugged on my leather jacket. After he put his coat on, we stepped out into the fall air. It had stopped raining.

  “Sucks your game was canceled tonight.”

  “Yeah, but if it hadn’t been,” he said as we began to walk in the direction of my condo, “I wouldn’t have walked in on my cheating girlfriend, and I wouldn’t have met you.”

  I could feel the heat hit my cheeks. “This is true, but I wish we would have met under different circumstances.”

  “I don’t,” he stated. “Then I wouldn’t have gotten to be your fake boyfriend for a few hours.”

  I laughed. “Thank you again for that.”

  “Anytime, Cupcake.”

  “Cupcake?” I laughed.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why cupcake?”

  “Because I want to lick and eat you.” I tripped over the imaginary bump in the sidewalk, stumbling slightly in my heels. “You okay there?”

  “First time walking in heels,” I joked. Then I looked up and realized we were at my building. “This is me.”

  Rhys looked at the building and then across the street before looking back at me. “No shit?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded.

  “I live in that building.” He pointed to the one across the street.

  “Really?”

  “Crazy, huh?”

  “Yeah. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime then?”

  He stepped forward, and as his hands went to cup my face, he whispered, “I’d like that.” Then his lips were on mine, and instantly my body heated. His tongue was again demanding, and hell if I didn’t want to invite him in for coffee that would lead to sex.

  I couldn’t.

  That wasn’t me.

  But I could kiss him. And he was a good kisser.

  I wanted to kiss him until the sun rose. Then that thought led to me thinking about him licking me like I was icing on a cupcake, and that just made my panties dampen between my legs.

  “Give me your phone,” Rhys said when we pulled apart. I reached into my purse and then handed it to him. He hit the screen a few times. “Use me sometime.”

  “Use you?”

  “Whenever you need to forget him, call me. You can use me anytime.”

  I looked at the screen when he handed it back, realizing he’d programed his number. “Thank you again for everything and also for trying to help me forget.”

  “Anytime, Cupcake. You’re going to make some guy really happy one day.”

  He kissed me one last time before walking across the street.

  The following morning—or should I say, afternoon—I woke up to notice my phone had blown up with a ton of notifications on Facebook and a text from Jaime:

  Saw the picture of you and Rhys Cole. Does Corey know you were out with another guy last night?

  I didn’t have the energy to text her back, so I opened up Facebook and read all of the comments people were saying on the photo I’d posted the night before of Rhys and me. When I got to his, I smiled as I read it:

  Use me anytime ;)

  There was reply after reply from my confused friends, all of them questioning how I’d “used” him. There wasn’t, however, anything from Corey. I hadn’t expected him to comment, but that also meant I wouldn’t know if he saw the picture or not. I decided right then and there that I was going to unfriend him, not caring anymore if he’d seen the picture.

  Fuck it.

  Instead of texting Jaime back, I sent one to Rhys before crawling out of bed:

  If sportscasting doesn’t work out for you, you’d make great money as being a fake boyfriend. Thank you for letting me use you.

  I didn’t tell him who it was because I thought my message would do that for me. Then I typed in Corey’s name and unfriended his ass followed by deleting every picture we‘d ever taken with each other.

  After using the bathroom, my phone buzzed:

  Rhys: I only want to be your fake boyfriend though.

  I smiled as I walked to my door to get the Sunday paper and typed a reply:

  I can live with that.

  Rhys: Use me anytime, Cupcake :P

  I laughed, making my way to get a cup of coffee as I read his last message. Again, the thought of Rhys licking me like I was icing on a cupcake made my belly dip, but I needed some time so that my heart could heal before I moved on to the next guy.

  Fake or not.

  After my first cup of coffee I texted Jaime back:

  Corey and I broke up. I’m sure he doesn’t care I was with Rhys.

  I just hoped he did.

  My phone started to ring, and Jaime’s name flashed on the screen. I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath before answering. I didn’t feel like explaining the last twenty-four hours, but she was my best friend, and I knew it was only a matter of time.

  “Hello?”

  “What do you mean Corey broke up with you?”

  I groaned and told her what had happened except the part where he stated he was cheating the entire time.

  “I’m sorry about you and Corey, but I kinda saw this coming.”

  “How?”

  “Because he’s a total ass and only cares about himself.”

  “You barely know him,” I corrected.

  “That’s exactly my point. He didn’t want to come over for my Christmas party, so you came alone. And he conveniently had to work when we had the barbecue in July.”

  “Because he did have to work,” I stressed.

  “He conveniently had to work, Ash.”

  I sighed. “You’re right. He was sleeping with other women while he was with me.”

  “I’m going to kill him.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Is it?”

  I was silent for a moment while I looked out at the sun shining. “Nothing wine can’t fix.” And Rhys if I give him a call.

  “I’m sorry. I love you, but I’m glad you two broke up. There’s someone better for you. Speaking of, tell me about this picture with Rhys Cole you posted last night.”

  I smiled at the memory. “I went to Judy’s for a drink, and he was sitting next to me at the bar.”

  “You two looked very cozy.”

  “We were just drinking buddies for the night.” My grin widened thinking about Rhys and how he came to my rescue.

  “Is he just as hot in person?”

  “Jaime!” I chastised, still smiling.

  “What? I just want to know.”

  I paused for a moment, still grinning like a fool. “Hotter.”

  “If you weren’t heartbroken over Corey, I’d give you a hard time about not getting with Rhys.”

  “It wasn’t like that.” I didn’t want to tell her about the kisses because I was heartbroken about Corey. It was nice to get to know Rhys, but now talking about Corey and what had happened, and with no alcohol running through my veins, my heart was hurting again. Even if he was a cheating asshole, my heart just needed a break and time to heal.

  “Right. Sorry. So, what can I do?”

  I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me. “Nothing. I mean, I just need time.”

  I knew it was going to be hard. The last several months my free time was spent with Corey. And now there was no Corey. My heart felt as though it was cracking in my chest. Was Rhys right? Would I meet a guy and be happy—finally? I wasn’t getting any younger.

&nbs
p; “You want to go to dinner tonight?” That way I could get a drink or two. I’d have to stop at a liquor store after work tomorrow.

  “Sure. Name the time and the place, and I’ll be there to help you get drunk.”

  And that was why Jaime was my best friend. She got me.

  When I got home, Bridgette was gone. Thank the fucking Lord! Was I thankful though? Even in my buzzed state of mine, I realized my place was silent. There was no chick drama show on the TV, no loud cackling, no Food Network BS that made me hungry, and there was no sex for me tonight.

  I would have went home with Ashtyn though. Fuck, I would have.

  Kissing her was not enough for me. I wanted more. When I told her to use me, I was serious. We could both use each other to forget about our exes. But did I want mindless sex to get over Bridgette?

  Yes, I did.

  I wanted all the sex so I could erase the image of Bridgette riding some guy’s dick in my bed. I need to burn my sheets. I had no idea how long her cheating had been going on because I worked crazy hours when there were games. Most hockey games were at night, and one or two nights a week were home games, so I wouldn’t get home until the bars were closed. When we played on the west coast, I was home a few hours earlier. I loved it.

  I didn’t, however, love coming home to see my girlfriend cheating on me.

  After taking a shower, I stripped my bed of the nasty sheets, stuffed them in the trash and then lay on my bed with a blanket from my couch. I was going to sleep on the couch, but why would I do that when the mattress was okay? Was the mattress okay? I checked for cum stains but didn’t see any. Even if there was, I wouldn’t know if it was mine or not. Fuck it. I was getting a new mattress too. I decided to sleep on the couch.

  The blanket I draped over me smelled like Bridgette. Everything smelled like Bridgette: vanilla and shit. I’d given her a key a year or so ago, and she’d moved in. I hadn’t asked her to, but one day her toothbrush was at my place, and the next her entire closet.

  Shit.

  That thought made me realize I didn’t get her key back and she didn’t leave it. I unlocked my phone to text her, but there was a notification from Facebook that I was tagged in a photo on my lock screen. It caused me to forget what I was doing. I smiled because I knew exactly what photo it was. After swiping the notification, I unlocked my phone, and the moment the picture graced my screen, my grin widened. There was comment after comment about how awesome it was that two young newscasters from different stations were together. I didn’t know why people thought it was weird. I didn’t. Maybe people were tripping out because these were our friends and word hadn’t gotten around that we were both single? If they only knew that my lips had tasted hers …