Wolf (A Little Red Riding Hood Retelling) (Brother's best friend romance)

by J. A. Wynters

  It’s all about her.

  She’s in the city again, near a gallery. I head for a quick shower and spend the next thirty minutes apologising to people for missing their calls and answering all the emails that can’t wait, all the while keeping an eye on the app. Red doesn’t stray from the gallery.

  I shut down my laptop and head out.

  17

  Red

  For a second, I forget about all the problems that wait for me outside, and I smirk as I picture Wolf’s face when I hung up on him. He’ll never find me here. I almost feel guilty about putting his phone on silent and letting him sleep. But he looked so peaceful, so beautiful like an ornate sculpture.

  I step into the gallery and my Doc Martens stick to the tiled floor, they rip away in silence, and I don’t feel like too much of an intruder.

  There’s a beautiful silent hum that hangs in the air, like it’s holding its breath at the artwork that lines the walls. I fear my thundering heart will disrupt the silence.

  “Can I help you?” the voice drawls and rips me from my thoughts as a young man dressed in a black suit and styled hair steps from behind an oversized desk.

  “I hope so,” I give him my best smile as he gives me a disapproving once over. “I’m here about the traineeship.” My breath stutters on the intake and nerves crawl up my skin.

  He purses his lips like he’s totally unimpressed with everything I’ve said so far then turns around towards his monstrous desk, “Follow me.”

  His dress shoes echo on the tiles, and he rounds his table making me wait on the other end while he picks up the phone and dials a few numbers, “Hi sweety, your next victim is here.” He smirks at me as he speaks, and I try for a smile. It seems to be the wrong response as his smile dies like a dark planet.

  He puts the handle back in the cradle and turns his attention to his computer screen.

  “Ignore Caleb, he’s just being a bitch cause he was dumped last night,” a honied voice startles me.

  I turn to find Becca Oakford floating towards me. Caleb glares at her and she raises an eyebrow. He folds his hands across his chest and pouts. I watch the silent exchange with awe then turn my attention back to Becca, who is now directly in front of me.

  My words lodge in my throat as too many of them want to escape all at once. “I work you,” I spit out and wait in vain for lightning to strike me down.

  She grins and Caleb snorts, “Let’s get to know each other first,” she winks at me and heat rushes to my ears.

  “I meant to say I love your work.”

  “Good, then we’ll get along just fine.” Her smile is so sincere I relax instantly. “Caleb baby, be a dear and get us a couple of coffees, I have a feeling about this one.”

  She winks at me a second time and ushers me to her office.

  Today is going to be the best day ever.

  18

  Red

  Today is the worst day ever.

  I step out of her office and fight the urge to run away screaming and crying like a toddler mid tantrum. I feel like a fool and wish I would have never made this stupid appointment. How could I ever think that Becca Oakford will hire me.

  Me.

  Uneducated, unqualified, pathetic little me.

  “Thank you for this opportunity,” I mumble feeling like I’m just wasting more of her time.

  “Can I help you sir?” Caleb’s voice sounds enthusiastic as his shoes tap along the floor.

  “No thanks, I’m just here for her.”

  All the hair on my neck stiffens and I swivel to find an agitated Wolf; he ensnares me with a fierce look.

  “Oh,” Caleb sulks again and shuffles back to his desk. “Lucky bitch,” he mutters as he passes by me.

  “He’s… we’re… it’s no…” I pinch my eyes closed and turn back to Becca. “Thanks again.” She nods.

  I sidestep Wolf and walk outside, wanting to find a dark corner to collapse into and partake in a pity party. What the hell is he doing here anyway?

  “Stop running away from me.” He’s suddenly by my side.

  “How did you even—” I clench my jaw and pinch my eyes closed for a second, then sigh, “you know what I don’t even want to know.” I keep walking and he stalks me like a shadow. “Go away!”

  “No.”

  “Go away, please?” I try again.

  “No.”

  “What are you even doing here, Wolf?”

  “Making sure you don’t get yourself into any sticky situations while Hunter is away.”

  I huff and trudge off. He catches me easily which only infuriates me more.

  “How about you tell me what that was all about?”

  “How about you die in a blazing hellfire.”

  He grabs my elbow and my pulse kicks up at the touch. My free hand flies to my neck, remembering his grip, the way he squeezed just enough to make my body shiver with terrible, treacherous thoughts. I bat the feelings away as I tug my hand and he releases me.

  “Red,” He calls me, “Red!”

  I stop and turn to him, “What?”

  “I’ll make you a deal.”

  I wait in silence for his terms.

  “Walk with me once around the block and tell me what happened, after that you won’t see me for the rest of the day.”

  “For the rest of the day?”

  “I promise.”

  I scoff, “Your promises mean shit.”

  He purses his lips and runs a hand through his hair, “It’s all I have for now, you’ll just have to trust me.”

  “Trust you?” The idea is laughable.

  “Just… try.” He almost looks desperate, and I hate how that makes something inside me twinge.

  I sag with my sigh, “fine.”

  His wolfish smile takes me by surprise and my heart staggers at the sight. I feel the ivy around my heart rip away and tear me with reminders.

  When I look away, he starts walking.

  I fall into step with him, he’s silent as he waits for me to start spilling. But every time I want to, embarrassment coats my throat, burns my ears and coils my stomach till all that comes out are feeble ragged breaths.

  “Do you remember that day when we cut school and the three of us sneaked to Hyde Park? It was so hot and everywhere was packed with stupid tourists.”

  A happy memory begins to float inside me as he speaks.

  “And then we got those ice creams.”

  I nod and a smile ghosts my lips, strawberry vanilla with a flake. I lick my lower lip.

  A dark look crosses Wolf’s eyes then he blinks it away. “Then later, when we walked by the lake, I pushed Hunter into the water.” He starts laughing, a low rumble that thunders inside me.

  “You were always such an asshole.”

  “A charmer you mean.” He winks at me.

  I arch a brow as the rest of the day plays out in my head, “and then you two idiots threw me in too.”

  “You wanted to swim.”

  “It was my only set of school uniform, and I was in a white shirt.”

  “Hey, I gave you the option to take it off,” he smirks and I glare at him, just for his smile to broaden. I can’t help the stupid grin that creeps onto my face as he keeps talking.

  “Then we chilled on those deckchairs till the cops chased us off. We ran all the way to the tube station.”

  “You mean, you two ran and I was dragged.”

  “Not our fault you have short legs.”

  “It was your fault the cops were after us in the first place.”

  “Neither of us knew those chairs were occupied, or that the money in the purse belonged to someone else.”

  He chuckles and I can’t help but do the same. I hate when he can make me feel so at ease, like being around him is so easy.

  He stops and turns to me, “Remember we were friends once?” He cradles my face in his big hands and traces his thumb over my cheek before he releases me, “Do you think we can get back there?”

  “I don’t kno
w if I could ever be your friend, Wolf.” He nods, but he doesn’t understand.

  I can’t be his friend because when I’m around him, every part of me screams for more of him. I want him so badly it hurts, and my heart rips a little more each time I smell another girl on him. I can’t be his friend because I want to be his everything.

  Silence follows us through narrow streets and busy alleys and still he doesn’t push or ask. He lets me explore shopfronts and dwell on my feelings of sour failure before I finally start spilling.

  19

  Wolf

  I watch her with a fascination I don’t want to feel. Red should be mundane, a dime a dozen kind of girl. She should be totally forgettable—except that she isn’t, and everything about her interests me, makes me want to know more, dig deeper. Just like before. I find that I enjoy spending time with her, looking at her. Any part of her, and that when I do, it’s easy to forget that Hunter is my best friend and Red is his little sister.

  I follow her in silence knowing there’s no need to push her. She’ll spill when she’s ready, not because she’s a talker, but because she wants to get as far away from me as possible. The thought stings and I swipe it away.

  “That was a job interview for an internship,” she starts but doesn’t look at me, her attention is focused on a near naked mannequin holding a book. Her eyes flash as she reads the title.

  The Count of Monte Cristo. Another classic. Like her.

  She moves on and I follow like the stalker I am.

  “Becca Oakford is a legend, at fifteen she was already exhibiting her work in some of the world’s most prestigious galleries,” her hands fly to her chest like she’s breathless, “since then she’s been a household name around the world.”

  I nod pretending I know what she’s talking about, but we both know I don’t. I’ve never heard of this Becca woman. Or if I did once, I’d forgotten about her just like I’ve forgotten about a long line of other women.

  We keep walking and she stops at another shop front, I get the feeling she’s avoiding looking at me, because it’s vacant. A ‘to let’ sign hangs limply on the glass door and the floor is littered with unopened mail.

  “I wanted that internship so badly.” She shakes her head, covering her mouth with a hand. “When I saw she was hiring, I didn’t even think about it, I just called and made an appointment.”

  Her hand slips away from her mouth and she sucks in her bottom lip. My eyes zero on her glistening lips while I keep my mouth shut, my jaw relaxed, so that she can’t see what I’m really thinking. How that one singular action affected me. How I crave to tear her clothes off, push up her up against that storefront, thread my hand through her long, purple hair and fuck her until she cries for me. I want to hear her moan; I want to make her whimper, and then I want to make her beg for more of me.

  My body riots and I wrench my eyes away.

  I wait.

  She turns to look at me and her face is a crumpled mess, she wears her sadness like a red cloak that wraps around her entire body. “Anyway, it was a total disaster. I’m such a fucking mess Shaw, I didn’t know anything.” My heart rate kicks up at the mention of my name, and I feel compelled to hold her, comfort her, take away the tortured blanket of pain that follows her everywhere she goes.

  “I was totally unprepared and made a complete fucking fool of myself. I—”

  I step in, reaching out for her, when her phone rings. She swings her backpack into me as she tosses it from her shoulder into the cradle of her hands, then pulls out the phone.

  I freeze, feeling like an idiot and watch as she takes a few steps away.

  “Hello?” Her voice wavers. She clears her throat and her face twists with annoyance, “Just call me Red.”

  I battle my smile, I’d also be annoyed if my mother gave me her ridiculous name, Ruby Esmeralda Diamante Evans.

  My heart twists with the memory of the day I pried that piece of information out of her.

  Her name is a collection of precious stones, and she guards its secret like it’s a chest full of treasure. I know she hates it, but I think even when she was born, her mother knew how precious and special she was going to be, so she couldn’t name her just one beautiful thing—she wanted her to be all of them. And of course, she is a combination of all those precious stones.

  Her red ruby lips and smart mouth, her emerald green, piercing eyes that floor you when they really focus on you, and her hard, sharp and beautiful exterior like the diamond she is. She’s been put through so much shit, pounded down by life, but all the pressure just made her shine even brighter.

  I watch as her face changes. Her eyes lift to mine and with each passing second, they grow bigger, her mouth falls open and her sharp features soften.

  Impatience skitters along my skin as she bites down a creeping smile, and my cock is all too aware of her glistening lips.

  “Okay. Yes. Thank you.” She says and hangs up.

  Before I can ask, she shrieks, “I got the job.”

  And before I know what she’s doing, she wraps herself around me. Her sudden heat sends my body into a frenzy, and I can’t help but draw her in and inhale her. Her strawberry shampoo saturates my senses, and familiar feelings that should not resurface try and push themselves up. I hold her, pulling her ever closer and she looks up at me, her mouth split into a beautiful delicious smile, and without thinking, I dip my head and brush her lips with my own. Wanting so much more than a whisper of a taste.

  She stiffens in my arms. And the moment shatters around us.

  “Shit,” I growl and release her.

  She stares at me for a long moment, her face a myriad of emotions all crashing against one another. She looks rattled and sad.

  “I’m going to go now.” Her voice quivers and she steps away from me, her eyes boomeranging from me to the narrow alleyway, her smile all but vanished. I’ve robbed her of another beautiful memory and tainted it with my own flavour.

  She takes another step away and I go to follow when she puts a hand up, “You promised.”

  I take a long breath, retreat, nod, and open my hands in a ‘you’re free to go’ gesture.

  She hesitates before finally turning around and walking away.

  I watch her leave. She turns around twice to see me still rooted to my spot. When she turns again, I retreat behind a wall.

  I wait two full minutes before I start to follow her. I don’t need to hurry, and I can’t lose her.

  Red is easy to track and easier to follow. She lives in her own bubble where the rest of us don’t exist.

  She spends the next few hours in futile wanderings around the city, taking notes and randomly sketching. I spend the time answering the rest of my emails and snatching glances at anyone who moves too close to her. A would-be pickpocket catches a glimpse of me glaring at him as he approaches her and quickly walks away, like he knows he’s about to lose a vital organ. Even at a distance, I can protect her. I find that suddenly being close to Red and knowing where she is and what she does has become vital for me.

  When she returns to the apartment, I wait for her to close the door behind her and watch for the lights to come on, then turn around and go to the store.

  20

  Red

  The delicate brush of his lips still lingers on mine all these hours later, and each time I think about it, my entire belly explodes with a violent eruption of butterflies; but his lips are like poison and as soon as the butterflies reach my throat they sink to their agonising death.

  I sigh hating the way he makes my body feel, hating the way my anger towards him saturates everything.

  An hour later and he walks into the house with bags under his arms. He sets them on the dining room table then packs the food away.

  I pretend he doesn’t exist by looking down at my phone.

  “Are you hungry? Thought we could celebrate your new job.”

  “We?”

  He shrugs, “If Hunter was here, you’d be celebrating.”

 
; “So, what are you, my new big brother?” The thought sits like a rock in my stomach.

  “No, but I’m his best friend and I’d like to try be your friend again.”

  My heart clinches in my chest at the word again— ‘Friends’. I give him a lopsided smile with a side of shrug.

  “So, dinner?”

  “Are you cooking?”

  His face scrunches and his head tilts a little, “You can call it cooking.”

  “What do you call it?”

  “Not burning.”

  I hate that I snicker. “So, what will you not be burning for us this evening?”

  “French toast? With a side of Champagne?”

  “It’s all very continental…”

  “I was trying to be classy.”

  “Must be hard for you. Did you hurt yourself?”

  “Only a little.” He winks at me and tangles his hands in his hair.

  My body hums with sudden electricity, “Did you mention Champagne?”

  “We are celebrating.”

  I nod and my pinched smile is back. Maybe I can throw this wolf a bone. “Sure, sounds great.”

  He flashes me his teeth and disappears into the kitchen. Moments later the clang of pans and pots fill the air followed by sizzling and the smell of melted butter.

  “Dinner is served,” he calls out a while later and I go sit at the table where he’d set two plates.

  I sit down and he places a plater piled with toast in the centre of the table then goes to a cupboard and grabs two whiskey glasses. He fills them with Champagne and places one in front of me.

  “Cheers,” he says, raising his glass.

  I eye the tumbler and raise an eyebrow.

  He shrugs, “We don’t entertain much, or drink much Champagne.”