Sweet Keeper (Sweet Talkers Book 1)

by Thalia Sanchez

  “I need a break,” I tell Bree, pleading her with my eyes.

  She simply nods, and I grab her hand to drag her out of the living room to a less transited area in the house. I want to go outside because the fresh air would definitely help me with the semi in my pants.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” she asks, dragging the words. Her eyes sparkle and she has lost sense of her inhibitions. Her drunken tongue is heavy thanks to the amount of alcohol she ingested during the games. “I need to pee.”

  I’m surprised it took her this long to ask for a bathroom. Alcohol usually turns my bladder into the size of a pea, and I have to go every thirty minutes. I admire her capacity to hold it that long.

  “C’mon.” I make a gesture with my head, pointing at the stairs behind us. “Can you go up?”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “I’m drunk, not paralyzed,” she retorts.

  Her body says otherwise because she’s not able to walk straight. Her feet don’t hold her, and she keeps stumbling against the wall to maintain her posture. I need to hold back my need to laugh because Bree’s so stubborn that she won’t ask for help to climb up the stairs.

  Getting to the second floor takes us more time than it should because Bree won’t allow me to help her up. During a few occasions, I have to prevent her from eating the steps. I regret not leading her to the bathroom downstairs, but the line is too long, and I doubt that she could hold it that long.

  “Will you stay with me?” she asks, her hazel eyes fixating on me as we both wait for the short line.

  I move Bree so her back is leaning against the wall to stop her from staggering. I doubt that my reflexes would let her fall, but I’m not taking risks with her.

  “Of course.”

  I’m afraid that you’ll fall down the stairs if I let you on your own.

  “I haven’t been this drunk since...” She trails off, deep in her thoughts. “It’s been a while. The last time I ended up waking up on a bathroom floor.”

  Alarms blast inside my head.

  “In a bathroom?”

  She nods. God, how much does this girl drink?

  “In my apartment,” she calms me, although I’m not sure she does it on purpose. Either way, my shoulders relax. At least it wasn’t a random bathroom. “I woke up and Cora was using it. It was sooo weird. Have I told you how much I admire her?” Bree changes the subject before I can even process the previous information. “She looks like she has no feelings sometimes, but she’s a fantastic person and… I admire her discipline. I love her a lot. I love all of my friends. They’re all amazing.”

  Her flamboyant speech draws a smile on my face. Bree’s the kind of drunk that goes around professing their love for everyone that’s around. I can’t believe it. She’s the kind of person that’s always repressing her real emotions and only acts through impulsiveness. Expressing more than the chaos that’s always surrounding her is cute. She’s absurdly cute in this state.

  “Your friends seem like nice girls.”

  She shakes her head effusively, without noticing how excessive her movements are. Her devil horns shift to the side.

  “No, they’re great. I wish I could be more like them; you know. They’re disciplined and sure about their futures, and I’m pure chaos.”

  Bree’s eyes are glossy, staring to a random point in the hall. This is something that I never saw coming. I’m sure that not even she planned for that confession, but it happened. I look around to see if someone is interested in our conversation, but no one is.

  “I find your chaos pretty attractive,” I declare, fixing the devil horns on top of her head. My thumb caresses her cheek for a brief second.

  Bree lips her bottom lip as I pull away. Her sight strays from me, and I know that I lost her. The moment forming between us is buried deep down in her brain. Especially when her lips arch in a wolfish grin.

  “Do you like The Addams Family?” Bree blurts out.

  Why am I not surprised by this sudden change?

  “Yeah, I guess.” I shrug it off.

  “I don’t think that I could stand anyone who doesn’t like it. Imagine not wanting a love story like Gomez and Morticia,” Bree comments and moves her hands like she can’t comprehend the feeling.

  I can’t help but laugh.

  What goes through Bree’s brain when she’s drunk? I’m not sure, but it’s unpredictable and spontaneous. Everything that comes out of her sassy mouth catches me off guard, stealing smiles and laughs from me. I know that that’s one of the things that I like the most about her, the way that I can never predict what her next steps are going to be.

  She’s special and leaves a mark in everyone that knows her.

  In a hall full of drunk people, with a song that I hate blasting in the house, I stare at her and realize that I can’t deny my attraction towards her. I like the only female friend that I’ve had in years, and I can’t hide it anymore because I would be lying to myself, and I’m tired of doing that.

  “You are completely insane, Bree Pierce,” I say, shaking my head.

  She shows me her tongue in a childish gesture.

  “You knew it when you decided to be my friend, you can’t back out now.”

  I don’t want to either.

  I peek at the girls making out in front of us, and notice that the last person that went into the bathroom already came out. Grabbing Bree’s hand, I guide her to the door so she can do her business.

  A gasp drowns in my throat when she pulls me with her into the small room, closing the door behind us. I’m paralyzed with my back pressed against the wood, trying to understand what the fuck is going on. Bree raises her gaze to my eyes and then descends it to my lips.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “Bree, I don’t know if you realize, but this is something that you do on your own—”

  “I need help,” Bree interrupts me and lifts her skirt all the way up to her waist.

  “Fuck,” I mumble, my eyes darting up to the roof crowning my head.

  There’s a knot in my throat as I focus myself to keep my eyes on the ceiling instead of going to where they want to. My heart is beating fast inside my chest and my mouth is dry as I fight the urge to make use of our promise. The invitation of hands expired the moment her cheeks got all red from the alcohol.

  I’m being tortured.

  I don’t know what I did in my previous life to deserve this, but it must’ve been a really bad thing.

  “Help me with the stockings,” Bree pleads with a pout. “They’re Karma’s and I don’t want to break them.”

  I’m going to lose my goddamn mind. Does she think that I have some sort of supernatural self-control, or that I’m a saint? Because I’m neither of those. I’m one step away from sitting her on the sink and fucking her seven ways to the hell where she belongs.

  This is why the costume fits her just right. She’s a little devil that’s on her way to drag me to hell, teasing me and driving me crazy.

  “Bree,” I beg.

  “Please, I don’t want to ruin them.”

  I take a deep breath, gathering the remains of my control. I’m a true masochist because I can’t deny her anything. I can’t believe that I haven’t even kissed this girl and she has me wrapped around her finger.

  How the hell did I get here?

  We could barely tolerate each other a month ago. She spent a whole week professing her hate for me. The world works in a funny and sick way because I’m fucked up. Bree Pierce could drag me to the worst place on earth and I’d still be happy that she took me with her.

  I clear my throat, leading my trembling hands to her tights. My sight drops for a second, catching the hem of her black panties and I curse under my breath. Holy fuck. My dick hardens. I want her so bad it hurts.

  “Why don’t you just take them off completely?” I suggest, my voice is hoarse and thick with desire.

  “But they’re part of the outfit,” she complains.

  A groan emerges from the back of my thr
oat.

  “Bree, please, I’m not made of stone.”

  But there’s a part of me that will be if my fingers get close to her ass again.

  “Fine, but you need to tie my boots after.”

  Relief spreads through my system as I take off her boots one by one and claim the black stockings, folding them in a tiny roll. I turn around when she goes to finish her business and tuck the tights inside my other pocket.

  “The boots,” she reminds me.

  The skirt is back in its place, which is a huge relief, and I get down on one knee to tie the shoes one by one.

  “All done.”

  “Thanks.” Bree smiles at me, turning around to wash her hands.

  She turns around and focuses her sight on my mouth. The tension between us becomes almost unbearable in the tiny space that we’re sharing. I step closer to her, putting my hands on the sink. Her breath hitches but she doesn’t break eye contact. Instead, one of her hands finds its way to my neck, my skin burning under her touch. I lean closer, letting the moment reign over me.

  Bree licks her lips and lets out a sigh, looking away.

  “Can we go outside? I need fresh air.”

  Immediately, I nod, regaining some control of the situation.

  Patiently, I guide her to the front yard. The back of the house is typically full of people and I don’t think she’s going to enjoy that. Especially when she’s getting sick and needs a space where the air is pure and will refresh her.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, slightly concerned for her.

  “I’m a little dizzy, that’s all. I hate being drunk,” Bree replies in a moan as she closes her eyes and leans her head against my chest. She takes a deep breath in an attempt to ease the sickness.

  “That’s one of the cons of drinking.”

  “I just hope that I don’t puke,” she mutters.

  Gently, I put a hand on her back, rubbing up and down. It’s not a lot, but it seems to help her because I can sense her muscles relax.

  “I promise that I will hold your hair if you do.”

  Bree snorts.

  “Charming.” A minute of silence surrounds us before she backs away. “Where did your costume come from?”

  I tilt my head.

  “I like the book,” I mumble with honesty. “I read it back in High School and I finally convinced Ryder to match with me. Last year he made us come as shirtless doctors.”

  Bree giggles.

  “That sounds like Ryder.”

  She’s not wrong at all. Ryder likes to take advantage of his looks to get girls. It’s what makes him an efficient fuckboy. If he has a chance to be shirtless in public, he will take it.

  “Getting rid of the fake blood was a bitch, though.”

  “C’mon, you probably had help.”

  Sometimes I forget that Bree has a weird and distorted image of me inside her head. I’ve tried to demolish it with my acts, but I can see that she hasn’t gotten over it completely. One day she will realize that I’m not the kind of guy that she has in her mind.

  “Contrary to what you think, I don’t have sex with everyone that has a vagina.”

  She arches a brow, curiosity impregnated on her face.

  “Are you a virgin?”

  Only Bree would ask that.

  “Of course not. I just don’t fuck around as much as you think.”

  “Mmm…”

  “What?” I ask, knowing that she’s restraining her words.

  “Nothing. I was thinking that I had a really bad introduction to sex. I was in high school when I lost my V-card and I liked the guy. Not enough to introduce him to my parents, but enough to have sex with him. Can you believe that the douche decided to put I want it that way from the Backstreet Boys on repeat as he put his panini inside me?”

  I explode in a loud and hysterical laugh because the situation is hilarious. My shoulders shake with my laughter. I can feel my lungs screaming for air, but I can’t seem to control myself.

  “Oh, my God!”

  “I know. It was terrible,” she says as she wrinkles her nose, being completely mortified. “Definitely something worth telling, huh?”

  “You make my sexual debut a cliché.”

  Bree squints at me.

  “Oh, no, no. You can’t just say that and stay quiet,” she presses, hitting my ribs. I groan in pain. “Stan, please. The odds that I will remember this tomorrow are slim.”

  Fuck it.

  It’s not like she didn’t tell me her embarrassing details.

  “It was under the bleachers in the lacrosse field of my school. We were caught by a security guard.” I pause. That’s not the punchline. “He was the girl’s father.”

  Bree chokes.

  “How are you still alive?”

  I shrug.

  “I don’t even know. The guy had a fucking taser and almost used it on me,” I reply, shaking my head. A shiver runs up my spine when I remember it.

  “What happened after?”

  “He called my mom.” Bree gasps. “The good thing is that my mom is open-minded, so she didn’t really react badly. She did give me an extended sex talk and told me to stop fucking around in public places and to always wear a condom.”

  Thank God that my mom is like that. I don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if I was the son of a religious woman. I used to have a friend that was the son of the pastor of a church and was grounded for months after he forgot to delete his web history and his parents found a lot of porn sites there.

  “Your mom sounds cool,” Bree says. “My mom is great, but I think that I would die if she found out about my sexual life. In her eyes, I’m a nun.”

  Yeah, Bree is the opposite of a nun. I don’t think her mom is that blind, she’s just letting her believe that.

  “Believe me. The last thing I wanted was my mom finding out that I got caught having sex,” I assure her.

  She sighs.

  We stay silent for a couple of minutes in the darkness of the night as Bree enjoys the pure air. The music is drowned and there’s a certain piece hugging us. I allow myself to observe her now that she has her eyes closed. Bree’s gorgeous, I can’t deny that, but it’s not the kind of beauty that can stop the traffic. Her kind of beauty is the one that you admire in silence because it makes you feel something.

  “Stan, can you take me home?”

  I walk Bree to her door. Mainly because she almost hit her head when she tried to get out of the car on her own. I don’t want her to end up hurting herself on the way up. Plus, I don’t know the people that live in her building and she’s defenseless in this state.

  “Come in.”

  I follow her without knowing what she wants, but I still do. Curiosity sparks on my chest as she approaches one of the doors in the hall, opening it. I can only assume that it’s her room from the way it’s decorated. The walls are full of different photographs and vinyl disks. A string of lights hangs from the corners on top of the bed. Her things are out of place, clothes on the chair of the desk and disorganized papers all around. I don’t judge her because my room isn’t exactly perfect paradise either. Besides, most of the stuff that makes the space messy are things that she used to get ready.

  Honestly, if it wasn’t that. I still can’t judge her because we’re college students with lots of stress on our shoulders. It’s difficult to maintain everything clean.

  Bree sits on her bed and I kneel down to help her with the boots, letting them on the corner of the bed.

  “You’re too good for me,” she comments, lying on the mattress. “I’m too tired to change or take off my makeup.”

  I don’t know why, but my mouth opens before I can process it.

  “I’ll do it. The makeup thing,” I specify as soon as I realize that it sounded weird. I don’t want to take her clothes off when she’s drunk. Sober? Abso-fucking-lutely. “Just tell me what to do.”

  Bree instructs me that I need to use the makeup remover and a box of wipes that are next to it on her dr
esser. Then she explains briefly the whole process. It’s not that complicated. Put the makeup remover in the wipe and then pass it over her face.

  I sit next to her on the bed, following her instructions. I make sure that my movements are gentle, passing the wet wipe over her delicate skin, removing what’s left of her makeup until her freckles greet me.

  “All done,” I let her know when her face is bare. “Is there something else that you need me to do as your slave?”

  “Don’t ruin the moment, okay?” Bree mutters in a drowsy tone as her lips curve in a smile. “Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

  I don’t know how I got here, but I stay with her until she’s profoundly asleep, my hand caressing her hair.

  I like her more than I expected because there’s no other reason why I would be here, letting her reign over me. She’s not just a friend. I don’t think she ever was just that. And now it’s too late to back out.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The headache from the hangover is the only thing that wakes me up the morning after that disastrous Halloween party. Pulsating and growing, it spreads through my skull like a tsunami. The sunlight that sneaks between my curtains and slaps my face unpleasantly isn’t helping me either.

  A groan escapes from my lips as I move around on the bed, trying to avoid the light as I pray for the headache to go away.

  I swear that I won’t drink anymore.

  Hangovers are exhausting and not worth the effort. Although, I’m glad that I didn’t spend the whole night kissing the toilet because I wouldn’t be able to handle a headache and an upset stomach today. I feel wrecked, both physically and emotionally. Not only am I suffering from awful effects from last night, but I can also remember every detail of what happened. Every embarrassing and messy act hits me like a cold hard wave.

  Why can’t I shut my mouth when I’m drunk? I didn’t want him to know that part of me. I’m aware of how funny it can be, especially considering the song choice, but he didn’t have to know.

  Only five people knew about it; my girls and Luanna. But Stanley…