He gestures over to the booze, soda, and other refreshments, leading us into the kitchen area. Is he part of this bullshit fraternity garbage?
“Red is for booze, blue for the rest.” He explains that we have to write our names on them for safekeeping as well.
“The ladies,” he directs at Leia with an expression I’ve come to learn as his distaste. Before she witnesses it, he smiles poignantly. “Each chick gets a pack of these.” He shakes a matchbox size package of strips.
“Are those what I think they are?” Leia questions, a sour expression on her face.
What is she talking about? Did I miss something?
“Probably,” he admits with a nod, and I’m still lost. “They’re to test for GHB.”
He looks at me with that explanation. Like, here, dude, get educated, get woke. I’m shocked, completely out of the loop.
“Fantastic,” Leia replies dryly.
“Just precaution,” Brady defends, raising his hands.
I pat him on the back, showing him I appreciate what he’s trying to show. At least he’s aware there’s an issue, even if I never knew it was. I’m not a partier. I don’t get out much, and this only proves it.
“We know what kind of party this is,” Leia mutters, and Brady doesn’t seem to catch it. “The fact that we even need precautions is shady as hell.” She rubs the tension from her forehead.
“Didn’t say it wasn’t, but I’d rather do my part in keeping you ladies protected,” Brady quips, the bitterness of her questioning his heedfulness in his tone.
Leia’s face softens a bit. She has always liked Brady, at least until Sadies’, and she doesn’t even know I’ve kissed him. After that dance, she just changed. I always figured it had to do with me ditching her for Brady that night.
“I’m sorry. It just infuriates me.” She sidesteps me and brings Brady into a hug.
He stiffens slightly then watches me, like he’s only doing this for the sake of being near me. His hand that isn’t around her squeezes my arm, bringing a rush of something to my heart.
“Thank you for caring, Brady. You’re a good egg,” Leia acknowledges.
“I’m not for chicks—or dudes—getting raped. I’ll always protect them.”
I’m stunned silent. Pride swells inside me, and I hope it shows when I look at him. God, his eyes are stunning. What the fuck? I close mine tightly, unable to process where my mind keeps going while he’s around.
He’s watching me, biting his lip. He lets Leia go but doesn’t stop staring at me, and he definitely doesn’t drop his hand.
After he does, though, and with that distraction gone, I realize rape culture is an issue. It also hits me that I’ve done nothing about it. Comes to show how fucking daft I am.
Brady eyes me. “Watch out for your girl, Kol.”
He’s bitter, and I don’t blame him, but he’s with Chefski. He has no right to still be bitter.
Ever since Leia and I have been dating, rumors flew that I’m not gay, that I’m finally with my best friend, and we’re meant to be together.
It doesn’t feel real.
Nothing feels real or graspable. It doesn’t feel promised or forever, and in the back of my mind, Brady’s still there, moaning my name.
“Always,” I assure as much as I can.
I’ll always protect Leia. I’ll always defend, watch, and love her. It’s all I’ve ever known. It’s all I am.
“I think I’ll keep it safe and only drink water,” Leia mumbles from the side of me, wrapping her arm around my midsection.
She must see the way Brady eyes me, the way he bites his lip when he waits my answer, and how he doesn’t give her one glance.
I’m being a bad boyfriend. She’s trying to be here for me.
“If you want to drink, I can watch out for you, babe.”
At the word babe, Brady flinches, and I let go of Leia in response. Why does it feel like I’m betraying him? Like this whole situation is fucked, and I’m picking wrong?
He shakes his head and storms off a moment later.
I’d have thought she would be angry, but her phone beeps, and she’s distracted. I hate her phone. I hate that I feel so insecure whenever it goes off. She said it was Venom. There’s nothing to worry about.
I hate that she doesn’t show me, not that she should have to but because I feel like this in response to her not offering it up to me.
Her eyes widen a smidge at whatever is on the screen, and her cheeks flare crimson.
“What is it?” I ask, acting coy while my nerves are going haywire with jealousy.
“Nothing.” She stuffs her cell into her pocket, acting as if that makes it disappear.
Rather than being ignored, it starts beeping incessantly. After less than a minute of silence, it rings. Leia’s eyes widen. She blows out a breath and checks the caller ID.
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes and answers her phone. “What do you want, Silas?”
I don’t know why I do this to myself. I feel sick at this point. I wish he’d get so fucking lost no one would find him.
She gives me an apologetic glance and strolls out the back sliding door. I don’t follow. I suck up my pride and busy myself.
It pisses me off to no end that he calls her, that she hasn’t chosen me and wants us both. If it wasn’t for her being his stepdaughter, I’d be angrier. I’m not a controlling man in any way, but this shit is disrespectful and wrong. But he’s family, no matter how screwed up it is.
After getting some beer and sipping on it, I notice it’s been over ten minutes. When my jealousy clouds over me, I’m uncontrollable. Before I realize it, it’s coursing through me, driving me out the door. When I hear her yelling, my anger fizzles out.
“You don’t get to ask me that! You don’t get to demand anything of me! I picked him. I picked Brax.” She paces back and forth. “Of course I still love you, but it’s not that simple, Sy.”
I don’t listen to anymore. I’m fuming again. She says she picked me, but she’s picking him when she answers her phone. It’s him she chooses when she ignores me and gives him her attention.
“Please, Sy,” she begs, bringing me back. I can hear the pain in her voice. It makes me sick with jealousy.
I turn and make my way back inside.
As soon as I’m at the drink table, my eyes skitter over the various colorful bowls of booze. I pick up the nastiest-looking concoction from the beaker I avoided earlier and chug it. By the second cup, the fury inside me has festered, building in me like cancer. Since prospecting and being accepted, my alcohol intake has quadrupled, and considering how many days a drink is in my hands, I’m a fucking alcoholic. There’s no fucks to give at that realization.
“Must be some girl,” a snarky voice muses. A chuckle sounds from behind me. It’s feminine and husky all in one. “Or a guy?”
I hear things clinking together and still stand by the sliding door like a fool.
“Can’t be all that great if you’re standing here though,” the voice continues.
I’m still facing the back yard. I’m not avoiding turning around. I just don’t have an answer, not one that makes sense. How do you explain to a complete stranger that your heart beats in two different tempos for two different people? How do you allow yourself to accept a part of you that you’re ashamed of?
Depressants. Booze. They’ll let you accept it for a little while. My mind tries coercing me, so I drink another and another and a-fucking-nother.
Is it Leia? Is it Brady? Is it me? Am I the problem?
Is there something broken inside of me to like both men and women? Or, rather, both Leia and Brady?
Nothing in my life seems to go well for me.
I don’t want to be a dick and tell the person to fuck off. When I’m in this mood, I can’t see clearly. They doesn’t deserve that, even if they’re some nosy-ass college kid.
By the time I finally turn around, it hits me that it’s a guy, another man to make me question myself.
Instead of being a coward, I narrow my eyes at him and notice how golden and how beautiful his eyes are. They’re so rich and warm with light golden hues, and devious and charming with darker browns like whiskey. His eyes are like warm fucking whiskey. It’s mesmerizing.
I lick my lips, thinking of the caramel liquid his eyes remind me of. It’s my poison of choice, my crutch whenever I’m hurting. Will he make my pain go away like my favorite drink?
No. He’s a guy. I don’t need more doubt, more confusion, more realization of my fears.
Damn. That compunctious concoction is hitting me harder than I thought. Shaking the heat that coils around me from his stare, I knock back another drink of my booze.
“What’s it to you?” I reply snidely, still annoyed that some stranger pushed himself into my private life.
“Just pointing out, a guy with an ass as nice as yours…” He cranes his neck, admiring my ass with a delighted expression. “…shouldn’t be this sad.” He shrugs, his pillowy lips smirking at me.
Those fucking lips. My cock stirs to life. Leia and I haven’t had sex in two weeks. It’s Sy. It’s always fucking Silas. I don’t push it, not since that night. Not since I experienced my first night hating my girlfriend. Without her to remedy this ache, I’m becoming maddened with need.
Shaking my head, I stare at him, suddenly intrigued with this conversation. It’s the booze, right?
I think of Leia, shame filling me at my reaction. With resolve, I brush it off. There’s no more fucks to give. Not when she’s fucking us both. Why can’t I have an open-sided relationship? Mystery guy saunters over to me with a cockiness I’m not opposed to. He’s strutting like he’s hot shit, closing the gap that only exists because I didn’t venture farther in the kitchen. My heart rate picks up.
“Let’s give her something to talk about, eh?” he breathes onto my lips before his plump ones are stealing mine.
His intoxicating scent infiltrates my every thought and takes over every sense in me. He smells like cinnamon, man, tobacco, and man. It’s dangerous. It’s intoxicating. It’s fucking delicious.
Whiskey Eyes is demanding, grabbing my hips, forcing them to smack against his. His hands wind around my neck, his breathing hot, sweet, and deliberate against my own. I savor it, savor him. I’m absorbing each kiss like they’re sustenance, eating them up as if I’ll starve for the next six months unless I do.
This isn’t me.
Liar.
I’m not a cheater.
Another lie.
I’m not a bastard like Sy.
I’m not that guy, but his mouth against mine feels right. Maybe right now, maybe right in this moment while I’m pissed, but just like Leia’s, just like Brady’s, they feel like they’re meant to be here.
But it’s not right. Not justified. Not me.
It’s wrong, and that ending thought wins over my lust. In the next moment, I’m cupping his chin, pulling him away from me. Those whiskey eyes flutter, like his joke—his plan for fun—had made a larger impact than intended.
Mystery guy touches his lips fervently, tracing where mine just were. His hair is all mussed up in the most beautifully chaotic way. I’m about to ask his name when I glance beside him and see Brady with his lip curled in disgust a moment before he’s turning away.
He caused this. No, Leia caused this. They both piss me off. They both need me and want me, but I can’t do this. I can’t be torn in every which way and still be okay.
The guilt from enjoying that kiss gets to me, though. Not only did I cheat with Brady several times, but I also kissed this random guy and enjoyed both.
What’s wrong with me? Why’s this happening to me?
Everything hurts. I’m aching, and it’s uncontrollable and unbearable. Now I know what it feels like to be Leia, to be confused, lonely, and torn between two wrongs.
I should run after him. No. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not mine, and he sure as hell isn’t supposed to care. Maybe I should apologize? Ask for forgiveness? Tell him I’m sorry for not knowing what I want?
Instead I do neither and begin to worry about my girlfriend. The girl I promised forever, the girl I’ve been planning to marry since we were six. The girl I’ve risked everything for. The girl I have given another chance to.
Taking another swig of the disgusting vomit-inducing beverage, I decide to go find Leia. It was a misunderstanding. I’ll tell her, and she’ll forgive me.
I think.
Brax kissed another guy. Brax kissed another guy in front of me. Brady wasn’t the only witness to that catastrophe, and it only confirmed my suspicions about them. I was only gone for fifteen minutes. It only took him fifteen minutes to find another person to kiss. It’s frustrating and heartbreaking, but I’m too shocked to really feel it all.
Sy’s phone call has me reeling, and Brax’s betrayal just hit me too soon. They’re both a bunch of dicks, and not the pleasurable kind.
I turn away from the door I stood behind, the door Brax never even looked through. If he did, he’d have seen me. If he did, he’d have known I watched him take that guy’s lips like they were edible.
He’s never kissed me that way. Not even when we were in the shower, kissing for the very first time.
Maybe it’s not me.
Maybe he’s a pipedream and I’m a lost cause.
Shaking my head with anxiety and fear, I walk toward the gate on the side of the house. Before I unlatch it, hands are grabbing me.
“I thought that was your cute little ass.”
The growling voice reminds me of a night I’d long tucked away in the very recess of my mind. The memory has my gut churning, aching for power, wishing I never came here.
“Is Miss Princess unable to respond? It hasn’t been that long.” His bitterness seeps through me like venom.
Don’t turn around.
Don’t give him your time.
Don’t be afraid.
“Listen here, slut,” he growls, attempting to force me to face him, but I struggle, wiggling and jostling as much as possible. “You’ve been the biggest tease since freshman year, and you’re finally going to give yourself to me. Sadies’ wasn’t enough, I’m going to get what I want this time. And your fucking bodyguard isn’t here to save you this time.”
Brax? He didn’t save me.
Is he speaking of Sy?
“Yeah, you stupid cunt! He came back for me and beat the fuck out of me, but you’re at my frat house now. You’re in my domain.”
He went back? He fought for me? He could’ve gone to prison. He promised to not do anything rash.
Realizing Brax brought me to an Aster party, I gag. Obviously that’s why there are GHB testers. Aster has a rep, and it’s one he’s rightfully earned. It looks like he didn’t quit his tricks. Instead, this followed him here too.
“Stop!” I yell.
I fight him, jerking my shoulders, refusing to look into his dead eyes. When his hands squeeze my arms, pushing so hard I cry out, my knee-jerk reaction is to hit him.
Raising my leg, I try to hit him right in his balls, but he stops me. He grips the juncture behind my knee, pushing me into the fence. The wood bites into my cheek, splinters digging into my skin. I’m not as lucky this time. He expected me to kick him. After all, that’s how I got away last time.
“You fucking whore!” he roars into my ear. “Time to finish what we started. Right, princess?”
I heave at his disgusting name, the one he made sure to call me that night, the night I lost what was left of my innocence, the bit Darryl hadn’t quite stripped away. What little of me that was meant to be for someone else.
Aster. Aster Blakely, the boy who ruined my life, ruined my soul, and left me for dead. He’s here, and he’s going to win this time.
“Get your fucking hands off her.” A bark with as much bite from a man I didn’t think I’d see any tim
e soon.
Again, it’s him who saves me and comes to my rescue when it should be my best friend.
Every girl dreams of going to the dance. I know I did.
I dressed to impress, to feel like a princess, and to be a teenager for once.
Dahlia and I spent hours getting me ready. She took me shopping and got me a beautiful and elegant wrap to wear. It worked. I felt like royalty.
Aster asked me to the dance. He was so nice about it. He started by getting all the cheerleaders and football players involved to do a dance and singing number. I didn’t know the song, but he smiled at me, gave me two dozen roses, and kissed my cheek like I was a prize.
I wanted that.
The simplicity of being a teen, to be desired for once by someone other than Sy, and to feel like I had a future with a man who could be mine.
He was sweet. His smile made me smile. Brax told me to go with him.
But my best friend didn’t tell me how much of a pig Aster was. How would he know? I didn’t even realize it until it was too late.
It all started when those elevator doors opened, and Brax left my side to be with his boyfriend. He denied they were dating, but I saw the way Brady looked at him, and the way Brax blushed when Brady winked at him. Brax isn’t aware of his attraction as much as I am, but I see it when he doesn’t. My best friend is into guys, and seeing him happy is all I’ll ever want.
And Brady does that for him.
Aster makes his way to me while Brady does the same. Brax told me to be fierce, to give them something to look at, but I’m scared of these people. They’ve never liked me, and they’re gawking at me as if I’m some object to be scrutinized. He finally makes it to me and pulls me into his side. He smells like rich cologne, the kind that makes your nose burn, but I smile at him anyway. My mamá taught me manners, and I would give Aster the benefit of the doubt.
“You’re so fucking fine, Leia. I’d fuck you,” Aster whispers in my ear, startling me.
My face flames, and it’s not because I liked what he said. Quite the opposite actually.
Aster drags me away before I can beg Brax to save me. We just got here. This shouldn’t be an issue. He shouldn’t be a pig. I wish I listened to my gut when I heard Alyssa and Megan talking about him being a groper. I figured they were over-exaggerating.
Always (Cape Hill Book 3) Page 17