Red
I watch his easy smile from the other end of the table, his fingers laced in mine. He’s serene. The opposite of what I am—a ball of stress and anxiety sits like a lump in my throat, and I can’t seem to swallow it down.
“So, I know I’ve been busy lately at work, and I’ve let you down.”
“No, it’s ok.” If only he knew what I’d done.
“I think I have a solution, a way for us to spend more time together.”
“Oh?”
“I really like you Red, and I think we can really have something. But as long as I can’t get you to myself, we will never know.”
I nod. My stomach twists and churns.
It’s been hard finding time to spend with Ethan, but now that Shaw has been inside me, I don’t know that I want to be with anyone else. But then I think about the countless girls Shaw’s been with before me and all the ones that will follow.
The pain scalds my insides.
“I want you to move in with me.” He blurts it out like it’s been sitting on the tip of his tongue for a while and he’s finally found the courage to use the words.
I stare down into my coffee. We’ve only gone out a handful of times over the last two months. We haven’t even slept together. Not that he hasn’t tried.
“Did you hear me?” Some of his usual confidence sheds away.
“Yeah, I just…”
“It will get you away from your brother and that friend of yours,” the word sounds hostile as it slips from his lips, “we will have time together under our own terms, no interruptions.”
He’s excited, it's obvious in the way his mouth is stretched into an eager smile and his hands squeeze mine and his eyes are wide and glowing.
I suck in a long breath and take a sip of my coffee. It’s already too cold.
His face creases with a slight frown, and my stomach clenches as I think about Shaw—the way he felt, the way his lips burned my skin, the way he's been avoiding me for the last two days.
“I know it’s sudden, but we can take it slow.” Ethan pipes up.
I think about Dave and a string of other mistakes wearing different names, there was Michael and James and Daniel. The list goes on, the names might change but the mistakes are always the same.
I force a smile and his mouth stretches into a thin line when he looks at my face. “I don't think it's a good idea.”
“I think you should reconsider.”
I draw in a long breath and ease my hands out of his, “I don't think I will. The job at the gallery is a great steppingstone for me. I've been saving and learning and soon I’ll be able to stand on my own two feet, and that's what I really want. I want to try do this life thing on my own for a bit, without having to rely on anyone.”
“Is that what you really want? Or is this about that friend of yours.” His tone is no longer sweet.
“No. Me and him have only ever been friends and nothing more. This is about making the right choices for myself.”
He sighs, “So where does that leave us?”
I rub my clammy hands on my thighs and look at his face. He is lovely, but he’s not Shaw.
“I see.” He says, even though I’m yet to say the words, “For what it’s worth, I would have given you the world, Red.”
I nod as he stands and walks out of the coffee shop. The problem is, I don’t want the world. I only want Shaw Bennett.
40
Red
The week slips by like water in my hands. Paperwork and acquisitions, couriers, sales and numbers, but my mind isn’t where it should be. It’s not with Caleb and Becca and art, it’s with Wolf in the woods.
He’s infected me and my days are consumed by his loss. I take him with me everywhere. His whispers haunt me in the night, and his marks decorate my body in shades of purple and yellow as my bruises heal and the long-furrowed scratches scab over.
I feel empty. And as the days scream towards my birthday, a sense of dread creeps over me.
I’ve hated every birthday in the last nine years. A dirty anniversary of heartbreak and pain, where I watch the ivy around my heart grow thicker and stronger and heavier with thorns and ugly things.
Caleb's voice hums in the back of my mind. The last of the paintings are getting picked up this evening and then there’s money to deal with and profits to bank.
My phone rings and pierces the echoes of Wolf's voice.
“Hello?”
“Hey Red,” Hunter sounds happy. It’s suspicious.
“Hi?” He doesn’t usually call unless he wants something, or I’m in trouble, “What’s up?”
“Your birthday is on Saturday.”
I shudder, “Yeah.”
“We should celebrate.”
“I’m not sure—”
“—Don’t be daft. I've already booked a restaurant. We'll go out for dinner and after, whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” I scoff. I want to curl up in my bed and sleep the day away.
“Within reason,” he mocks an authoritative voice.
“Sure thing, dad.” I can feel his grimace on the other end.
“Great. It’s settled then.”
“Is it? What if I’ve made other plans?”
He’s quiet for a second, “Did you?”
Yes. With my bed, duvet, and pyjamas—and maybe a bottle of vodka. “No.”
“Okay then, don’t.” He hangs up without another word. I hate when he does that.
“Sure, whatever you say,” I mumble as I put my phone away.
Caleb is staring when I look up again. “What?”
“Was that Mr. Hot Stuff?” He wiggles his eyebrows and my stomach convulses.
“Stop calling him that!”
“Why? He is. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed,” he tuts at me.
“No. It was my brother. He wants to take me out on Saturday.”
“Oh,” His disappointment echoes my own, “that’s nice,” he’s lost for words.
“Yeah, nice.”
“You seem super excited about it.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Dinner with your brother is complicated?”
I cover my face with my hands and groan, “It’s a long story Caleb, I don’t feel like getting into it.”
At that he lets the papers fall from his hands and leans back into his chair, “Well now you have to tell me.”
“Caleb.” I whine.
He folds his arms across his chest like he didn’t hear me and stares, anticipation painting his face.
I sigh, “It’s my birthday.”
His eyes grow large and his mouth pops open. “Your birthday? Girl, why didn’t you say anything? Let’s go out and paint the town, get you seen, laid even. Put a smile on that face of yours.”
I grimace and my body quivers remembering Wolf's hands and lips and body imprinted on mine.
“I … I don’t celebrate my birthday.”
“What? Why?” His eyebrows furrow in deep lines.
“I just … Don’t.” I let my hands fall by my side and grip onto my jeans.
“Let’s change that!”
“I have plans now.”
“Cancel!”
“I can’t.”
“Come on Re—”
“—No. Just drop it Caleb, please “
He cocks his head for a second and glares at me then schools his face and straightens up. “Ok, let’s get the courier sorted.”
41
Red
For two solid days, we work on Becca’s new installation and my portfolio. It’s due in two weeks, and though I’ve chosen some of my best pieces, we both feel like it’s incomplete.
Caleb riffles through my work, his face a kaleidoscope of emotions as he traces his fingers over inanimate objects sketched in dark, soft lead and brash strokes. He croons over the pieces of snatched faces, people in a crowd, a crying girl, an old toothless man, a homeless man cradling his dog, a stagnant sculpture in the park come to life
on paper.
“They are incredible babe,” he says, and I know he means it as his eyes linger on the boy who never grew up. He slams the portfolio shut, “But, it’s still missing something, a pièce de résistance.”
I nod. He’s right. I need one more piece, one that conveys who I truly am as an artist, one that captures me as much as my subject.
Long walks after work have proven futile, my mind is too full by the emptiness my body feels. My heart is wounded, and my body still aches with bruises, both holding tight to the ivy that winds itself tighter inside me.
“I’ll get something done,” I promise Caleb, and he lets my portfolio drop to the table.
“Good. Now, let’s get the rest of this installation planned.”
42
Red
“What sort of restaurant is it?” I call out to Hunter from my room.
“One with chairs and tables, where people eat with knives and forks, and they bring the food all the way to the table.”
I roll my eyes and remind myself it’s only two hours with my annoying big brother and then it will be over. “But what do I wear? Casual? Smart?”
“Somewhere in between?” He calls back and I grind my teeth.
Fine. Something in between.
I grab a dress and slip it on just to see the row of bruises on my shoulders and arms. I throw it on the ground and search my cupboard. I find a short, black skirt and a long sleeve shirt that covers enough to hide the story written on my body. I pull on my Docs and brush fingers through my hair.
I’m something in between.
I walk into the lounge to find Wolf sitting on the couch. My heart leaps to my throat, his eyes dart over me. A dark expression crosses his face. I didn’t even know he was here.
He’s dressed in his fitted suit pants and white button up that’s rolled to the elbows, showing off his strong forearms. I wrench my gaze away as Hunter walks in. He’s more casual than smart and I feel overdressed.
“Everyone’s here. “
“Everyone?”
Wolf stands up.
“Yeah, Wolf is coming too.”
“Why?”
Hunter shifts the weight to his other leg. “The more the merrier. Didn’t think you’d mind, he’s family,” he shrugs and grabs his keys from the table. “Let’s go.” He closes the subject before I can protest.
He opens the front door and I slip through it, waiting for them to step out.
I follow Hunter to his car where he opens the back door for me. “I’m not sitting in the back,” I say and get into the passenger seat before either of them can argue.
Wolf grumbles as he climbs into the back seat, and I can’t help the smirk that worms its way over my face. I push my chair all the way back just for good measure.
Hunter climbs in, gives me a questioning look then takes off when I say nothing.
Wolf is almost sideways in the backseat, having no leg room.
The car is charged in an awkward silence as Hunter drives. I turn the radio on and find a tune to drown out the discomfort. With my face glued to the cold window, I watch the world flash me by.
We walk into the restaurant. Hunter should have said smart, there’s nothing causal about this place. Pristine white tablecloths and silverware adorn the tables, most of which host guests dressed so elegantly they should be at a gala instead of a dinner. I grind my teeth, making a mental note to kick Hunter under the table. A multitude of eyes swing over to our party as we get shown to our table. Questioning eyes as their gazes swing from the two large men behind me and back to me. I can only imagine what they must be thinking.
We’re seated and the eyes slowly fall away.
Hunter grabs a menu. “It’s been forever since the three of us hung out together.” He smiles and looks at his menu, missing the sharp look exchanged between me and Wolf.
Neither of us want to be here. That much is clear.
“What are you having?” Hunter asks.
“Burger.” We say in unison and exchange another look.
Hunter puts his menu down, “I bring you two to this posh place for you guys to have burgers?”
We both shrug and smile, and some of the tension melts away.
The waitress comes over and her gaze boomerangs between Hunter and Wolf. Her thoughts scream loudly as she writes down our order and bites her bottom lip. I know what kind of sandwich she’d be ordering if they were on the menu.
The waitress disappears and I notice the extra swing in her ass. Hunter does too. Wolf hasn’t taken his eyes off his plate since we’ve walked in.
Hunter wrenches his gaze away from the waitress and turns his attention back to me. “Tell me about your—” his phone interrupts mid-sentence, and he frowns when he sees the number, “Sorry, I have to get it.”
He listens as a muffled voice speaks on the other end. “Now?” He’s quiet for a second. “But I’ve…” Another pause as he nods. “Can’t…” He frowns. “Okay. I’ll be there soon.”
He hangs up and his crestfallen face tells me all I need to know.
“It’s fine,” I tell him before he can speak.
“I’m so sorry, the client needs to go to Madrid.”
“Now?”
He shrugs, “Guess so.”
“And no one else can do it but you?”
“She asked for me by name, I can’t turn down clients.”
“I know.”
“It’s just one night, maybe two, and then I’ll make it up to you.” His lips stretch into a thin line.
“Sure.”
“Wolf can still help you celebrate.” The ivy around my heart suffocates me as it tightens, and my brother gives me a weak smile.
“Sure.”
He stands up and draws me into his arms, “Happy birthday Red, I’ll make it up to you.”
I give him a tight smile and he hurries out of the restaurant, leaving Wolf and I in silence.
“You don’t have to stay,” I whisper to him.
“I want to.” His gaze catches mine and holds me in place. “About the other night…”
“Not now.”
“Okay,” he falls quiet and nods. “Drink?”
“No. I think I just want to go.”
“Red.”
“Please.” He grimaces for a long second.
He flags down the waitress and asks for the bill. She gives us a long sideways glance before disappearing and leaves us in a cold awkward silence.
He drops a few bills on the table and stands up, not waiting for her to come back. “Shall we?”
“Thanks,” I say relieved, wanting to get out of here and away from him. This place feels suffocating and too bright, and I wish I’d never come.
Wolf pulls open the door and we step into the cold night. We join the river of humanity that flows along the bustling street, and I’m swept away by the sounds and smells of London at night. Small alleys and hundreds of expensive eateries, where street art drips over cold walls, and where the homeless eat from the palm of their hands. It’s a city of contradictions and beauty, and I let it sweep me away—away from my problems and another disastrous birthday.
Wolf catches up to me and falls into step. His hand slides down mine and our fingers interlock. My skin burns with the touch and my body shivers.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s still your birthday. Do you want to do anything?” he asks as we walk through throngs of smiling, happy people out for a night out, one they wouldn’t want to forget but likely would.
Just like I want to forget.
I shrug and let the cold air sting my flushed cheeks, “Can we just walk for a while?”
“Sure.”
He lets me lead. Our hands remain interlaced, entwined just like the ivy—I can feel it grow and tighten, wanting to protect the hollowed chambers inside.
“How’s work going?” he tries for conversation.
“I don’t want to talk about my work.”
He frowns, “Well, what do you want
to talk about?”
I stop and glare at him. The words stinging my tongue even as I bite it. I turn away, “Nothing.”
He grips my shoulder and spins me, “Tell me, say what you want to say.”
“Say what I want to say?” Anger rises inside me, “You fucked me in the woods and the first thing you said was not to tell anyone, like I was a mistake. Then you disappeared for a week.”
“Red, you’ve never been a mistake.”
“Well, you’ve always made me feel like one.”
He grips the back of his neck and looks up to the dark sky for a moment before his eyes catch mine, “I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t change anything.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that way.”
“You have no idea how I feel.”
“So, tell me.” He leans into to me, close. Too close.
I rip away from him. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you make me feel too vulnerable, too exposed, like I want so much more. And you—you want to have fun and the minute this gets anything other than just fun, you’ll leave like you did before, even after we… you…” my voice drops away.
“You can’t keep holding that against me, we were kids.”
“I loved you, and you promised.”
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
“There are a lot of things you shouldn’t have done.” I say it, even as my body floods with hot need washing away the cold lies.
He reaches out for me, but I step out of his grasp. “Red…”
“Can we just go home now?”
“No! It’s your fucking birthday, and I want you to have a good night.”
Wolf (A Little Red Riding Hood Retelling) (Brother's best friend romance) Page 17