by Jodie Larson
Unease settles into her features as worry lines appear around her eyes and her bottom lip disappears between her teeth. “They showed their true colors and left.”
“What do you mean?” I really want to be wrong about this, that people weren’t using her to get to us.
Lizzie leans against the entry wall, taking a defensive stance with her arms crossed in front of her chest. “The minute you guys left town, so did they.”
The hurt in her voice breaks my heart. She tried so hard to get people she trusted around her. I thought she had found them when she was socially accepted in high school, going to all the big parties, gaining her status as one of the “it” girls. I mean, her calendar was always full. But now, seeing this is still affecting her years later, it’s too much.
So I do the most logical thing I can think of. Taking her by the shoulders, I pull her into my chest and hold her tight. She tenses in my hold at first, fighting me or not willing to accept my comfort. Little by little, she relaxes, letting her shoulders sag against the weight being lifted from the weight she’s carried for far too long.
“Girls can be bitches sometimes,” I say into her hair. That minty smell hits me again and I find myself relaxing into her as well.
“No, they’re downright assholes.” I can’t tell if she’s holding back a laugh or a sob.
When she pulls away, her smile eases my worries. Lizzie is a fighter. She had to be if she was running around with us. You can’t hang around boys and not learn how to be tough.
“Better?” I ask, letting her take a couple steps back.
She nods. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Awkward silence fills the space. Now’s the time to turn and run before something stupid comes out of my mouth. “What are you doing this weekend?”
“Nothing much. Dinner at my parents’ house at some point. Other than that, my calendar is free.”
“Should we meet up Saturday morning to finish? Maybe if we get done early enough, we can head to the store and pick out which flooring you’d like.”
A genuine smile is her reply, one that crinkles the corners of her eyes. A fully-fledged, honest-to-goodness Lizzie grin. “I’d like that.”
“Then it’s a date.”
“You’re home late,” Pax says when I walk through the door. He’s in his usual spot, sprawled across the couch with the Xbox controller in his hand, playing the latest football game that I’m sure he just picked up.
Tossing my shoes in the closet, I walk over to the fridge and grab a beer. “Not that late,” I say, getting comfy in my recliner.
The game pauses and Pax sits up, an eyebrow raised in question. “No, for our standards it’s pretty early. But, by the standards of being at a woman’s house you’re not supposed to be around, it’s late.”
“Okay, Dad,” I say, making sure he sees my over-exaggerated eye roll. “Nothing happened.”
“Yeah, they all say that. Then someone ends up knocked up or having to go to the clinic because it burns when they pee.”
“Are you implying I’m going to give her an STD? or vice versa? That’s sick.”
He hits me with a pointed stare. “Dude, she’s like our sister.”
“No, Tatum is like our sister.”
“So is Lizzie. How many times have we taken care of her over the years? Like when she fell off her bike and we had to stick by her while Myles ran to get his parents? Or when she didn’t make the cheerleading squad and cried the whole night? How about after she got dumped before the Winter Ball and I offered to take her?” He ticks off each memory on his fingers as if trying to convince me she’s not family, which she is. It’s just that I see her differently than the others.
I take a swig of beer. “Maybe you see her as the lost little girl or Myles’ younger sister, but that’s not who she is. Can’t you see she’s grown up now? Hell, she’s a woman.” I need to play this carefully. First rule of poker: don’t show your hand too fast. “Besides, you heard her. She’s not interested in dating anyone right now. And the last thing she needs is someone who won’t be around.”
Pax eyes me suspiciously. I can’t tell if he believes me or not. Hell, I’m not even sure if I believe me. Except for the last part. Lizzie doesn’t need to start something with a guy who won’t be around. I’m not selfish enough to indulge in a fantasy that has no intention of ever coming true. Kade and Myles make it work because their wives can travel with them—or have the capability to. Lizzie is a nurse. She loves her job and, from what I remember of her, has no desire of being a kept woman or following in someone’s shadow. Not anymore.
“Yeah, that’s true. If it weren’t for the fact that Myles would tear you limb from limb, you’re not douche-y enough to cut and run like that. Then you’d have more than Myles to deal with.” Another wary glare is thrown my way.
“Trust me, if I ever did that, I’d kick my own ass.”
“Good. Now go get me a beer and grab a controller. Then you can fill me in on what exactly you’re doing over there.”
With a mock salute, I do as requested, letting go a sigh on the way. I need to cool down my thoughts before they get me in trouble. In a perfect world, I could be what Lizzie needs, be the man I know she deserves.
But life isn’t perfect. And now I’m back to the feeling I had nine years ago, sitting in the front seat of that car with all kinds of ideas running through my head.
“Keep it together.”
“Keep it down.”
“Come on, just hold it in. We’re almost there.”
Lizzie is trying in vain to convince her brother not to vomit all over the interior of her car, the one she just purchased a few weeks ago. Well, with a little help from her parents. Nothing special, definitely used. Then again, she doesn’t need much since she’s still in high school.
At least she was around when I called her for a ride. Myles had made an ass of himself, getting into two fights while trying to win the world record for the fastest someone can get alcohol poisoning.
Tatum really did a number on him, up and leaving the way she did. I tried calling her, but she turned off her phone. And her dad wasn’t helpful. All he said was that she needed space and time. Myles didn’t like that answer. I had to practically drag him out of the house before he ruined his relationship with Tom, her dad.
“Fucking Tatum,” he slurs, still sprawled in the backseat with an arm over his eyes.
“I’m sure she didn’t leave you. There’s no way she’d do that.” Lizzie’s trying her best to concentrate on the road while sneaking glances back at her inebriated brother.
“Just a few more blocks, bud,” I say, needing to add to the conversation. Not that I’m in much better shape. At least I can sit up and mostly focus on the road. Just don’t ask me to read any signs or tell you what landmarks we’re passing.
Within a few minutes, we pull into their parents’ driveway. “We’re home,” Lizzie says, quickly turning off her car. Before she has a chance to unbuckle her seatbelt, Myles springs up and darts out of the car. At least he made it to the grass before he threw up the entire contents of his stomach in her car.
“Good thing we didn’t venture far from home. Another minute and you’d have a mess on your hands.”
Lizzie looks over at me, her green eyes showing her worry. “Is he going to be all right?”
I shrug. “Not sure. Kind of depends on Tatum at this point, if she reaches out to him or not.” Another heave from Myles draws our attention, but only to make sure he’s not lying on the ground.
“Should we go help him?” Lizzie shivers at the thought. “I’m not good with puke, so by ‘we,’ I really mean you.”
I laugh. “He’s your brother.”
“He’s your best friend.”
“I draw the line at bodily fluids.”
She huffs a breath through her nose and takes another look at her brother. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s still on his hands and knees and not lying in the puddle.”
“True.” I look over a
nd frown. “He’s really not taking this well. Did you know he tried to start a fight at the bar?”
“Really?” Her eyes widen. “That’s not like him at all.”
“I know. There was this couple near the door. Really cute. Looked to be around our age. He took another shot, walked up to the guy and loudly proclaimed that he better enjoy it while it lasts because one day she’s going to leave him, regardless of what she tells him while they’re fucking at night.”
Lizzie cringes. “Oh God. Why would he do that?”
“Because he’s hurting and doesn’t know how to channel his emotions.”
“So his theory is to pick a fight with everyone? That doesn’t seem smart.”
I nod. “Yeah. The guy didn’t think so, either. Or his four friends he was with.”
“How’d he escape?” I see the genuine concern for her brother’s safety as she glances back to him, still on his hands and knees. Not actively puking anymore, but definitely in the dry heaves part now, Myles moans in agony.
“Kade and I pulled him away after the first punch was thrown. We talked the guys down and bought their drinks for the night to appease them.”
The worry lines don’t leave her forehead as she traces the features of my face. “You could have gotten hit doing that.”
I shrug. “He’s my best friend.”
The car feels too warm, too confined. Maybe it’s the alcohol or the fact I still have my seatbelt on. Even after taking it off, I still feel constricted, like my chest is in a vise and squeezing every last breath from my lungs.
Damn, she’s beautiful. It’s a beauty without trying. Simple. No makeup, no frills. Hell, her hair is even in a pile on top of her head while a few strands hang down to frame her face. A face that’s changed over the years, grown more beautiful. Most of the girls I meet are overly done, trying to be perfect. They’d never leave the house in a sweatshirt and yoga pants. And yet, those girls don’t hold a candle to the way Lizzie looks right now.
Her eyes haven’t left mine, still searching for something. I wish I knew what. But the more I focus on them, the more I’m finding myself getting lost in their depths.
Before I know what I’m doing, I reach over and unbuckle her seatbelt. She doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. I’m trying hard not to notice the change in her breathing, how her chest is rising faster than it was five minutes ago, or how her eyes are now dilated, heated with a yearning I pray is being reflected back in my own.
“Breck,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper and yet that one breathy word echoes throughout the car.
My head’s swimming. No longer intoxicated from the alcohol, but from being this close to Lizzie. She’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. And tonight, it’s like I’m seeing her for the first time. I’ve noticed her over the last few years, yet never really paid attention.
Tonight, she’s all I can see.
Reaching up, I cup her cheek, moving as close as I can in the confines of her small car.
Neither of us speak. No words are needed for this moment. She follows my lead, leaning into me and pausing just before our lips touch.
Opening my eyes, I find hers closed, her lips barely open as if she’s trying to breathe in my scent.
I smile quickly before closing the distance and tasting her lips for the first time. Sweet and soft, just as they look and yet it’s nothing like actually feeling them. She breathes a sigh, letting her lips part even more. Taking advantage, I swipe my tongue along the inside of her parted mouth. Her tongue barely grazes mine, hesitant yet willing.
“Am I your first kiss?” I ask, somehow finding the strength to pull away, but not far enough that I can’t feel her warm breath peppering my skin.
“No, but I’ve never had a kiss like that.” She opens her eyes and I’m greeted with the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen in my life.
Only, it falls just as quickly.
Fear paralyzes her face, eyes wide with a hint of terror.
Myles opens my door, pulling me out by my shirt and throwing me against the side of the car. I don’t have time to register what’s happening before his fist collides with my right eye. Stars instantly appear behind my closed lid before the pain sets in.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he screams at my face, landing another punch to the same eye. I can feel the area start to swell as blood rushes to my face.
“Myles! Stop!” In the distance, I can hear Lizzie’s plea, though barely due to the ringing in my ears.
“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. My. Sister.” Each statement is followed up with a punch against my arms since I finally gathered enough wits to defend myself.
It only lasts a minute, but it felt like forever. Even though he was just puking his guts out, he’s somehow rallied and gained the strength of a mob, throwing his weight behind each punch.
Lizzie runs up and tries to grab his arm. “Stop it. Leave him alone. He didn’t do anything.”
With Myles momentarily distracted, I manage to swing and connect with his jaw, dazing him only slightly. He throws Lizzie off his arm and points a finger in my face.
“He was all over you. I saw it,” he says, directing his words to her but still keeping me pinned in his sights.
“Leave him alone. He didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”
“You’re a goddamn baby. You don’t know what you want.” He turns, ignoring me for a moment to swing his finger to their front door. “Get inside. I’ll deal with him.”
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not a child. You don’t get to talk to me like that.”
“Go!” His voice booms into the night. If we don’t quiet down, I’m sure we’re going to get a visit from Kade’s dad or someone else from the police department.
Lizzie looks at me one last time. I nod, indicating she needs to go. Myles won’t calm down until she’s gone and I can’t focus if she stays.
Her crestfallen face damn near hurts more than the beating I just endured by her brother. Lizzie’s smile could light up the darkest room, but her sadness could also dim it just as easily. I can’t focus on that right now. Instead, I watch her retreating form, making sure she’s far enough away before turning my attention to the man still gripping the front of my shirt like I’m some two-bit criminal.
With her gone, I swing again and manage to knock him away from me.
“Back off,” I say, wiping away a trail of blood from the corner of my mouth. I could feel my lip split with the last punch that connected.
His chest heaves with labored breaths, practically breathing fire out his nose. Whatever trace of inebriation is gone as we square off, standing feet apart and glaring at each other.
“Don’t ever touch my sister again.” Myles’ cold, menacing words echo through my head, erasing whatever happiness I had felt when I was locked in the bubble with Lizzie.
But I need to put up some fight. I’m not willing to roll over and die. Not yet.
“She’s not a possession you can control. And you heard her; she’s not a baby anymore. Don’t take your fucking aggression out on me because Tatum left your sorry ass.”
“Tatum has nothing to do with this,” he seethes. “Lizzie’s seventeen. That’s jailbait.” He leans forward, eyes blazing with repressed anger. “To you, she’s off-limits. You’re not to touch her or look at her again. Hell, if you see her walking down the street, you’re going to turn and walk the opposite direction.”
“And what if I don’t?” He can’t dictate my life. Or hers for that matter.
A sneer tugs at his mouth, sending a momentary dose of fear to run through my veins. “I don’t think you want the answer to that question. Because we’re friends, I’m going to let this go and we’ll never speak of it again. Only if I have your word that I can trust you and nothing like this happens again.”
I look to the door where Lizzie was last standing. If I try hard enough, I can still see her face, worried over what will happen between us. It’s enoug
h to make my decision for me.
“It won’t happen again,” I say to the ground, not willing to meet his disapproving face.
“Good.” Since I’m still looking down, I don’t see him swing his arm back until it’s too late. My stomach clenches from the hit, knocking me down to my knees in pain. “Now we understand each other.”
Another clench from my stomach and my throat burns from the acid and bile rising up. The only relief? Letting it go. All over Myles’ shoes. The putrid smell hits my nostrils, causing another violent heave and more vomit to flow.
He jumps back with a disgusted yell and I smile to myself. At least I ruined his shoes since he ruined any chance I had at seeing Lizzie’s beautiful face again.
After he turns and goes inside, swearing the whole way up the sidewalk, I lift to my feet and start the long, lonely walk down the street to my parents’ house.
In one moment, I had something good within my grasp. And just as fast, it was ripped away. But in that tiny sliver of time, the world seemed right. Those lips, the softest I’ve ever felt, will forever be branded onto mine, marking me as hers.
How can I look forward to a day filled with manual labor and try to pretend that I’m not? I’m generally good at lying to myself. I’ve become an expert over the years. Telling myself the guys I’m dating are good enough, or that my friends really do care about my thoughts and feelings. Anything to block out reality.
But here I am, up early on a Saturday morning, sitting at the small kitchen table that’s tucked away in the corner, waiting for a knock at my door or a text message to light up my phone. I’m not sure how he’s going to let me know he’s here.
Nervous little flutters keep my stomach on alert, sloshing around the coffee I keep downing like it’s water.
I should really change out of my pajamas and into the ratty clothes I’d set aside yesterday after doing laundry. But my knees are knocking so bad I’m afraid of falling on my face the minute I leave this chair.
He’s just a guy. Someone who looks at me like I’m their next new toy.
Another lie.