The Brooklyn Book Boyfriends

by Kayley Loring

  “Where the fuck do you get off being so rude to me, huh?”

  “Keep it down—this is a nice place.”

  “Really? You think I’m the one behaving inappropriately?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “Seriously—how the hell did you end up with Russell’s ex?” She taps at her temple, so condescending. “Do you even see how crazy that shit is?”

  “I am aware that it seems like a bad idea, but I also know it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.”

  “You’re talking about the world’s shortest list of good decisions.”

  “Not denying that.”

  “Okay, but you have to at least tell me—who sought who out? Did she find you?”

  “No.”

  She nods once. “That’s what I thought. A revenge fuck.”

  “It is so much more than that, and I think that’s obvious to you or you wouldn’t be trying so hard to get to me.”

  Her eyelids flutter. Her posture changes. And I know she’s about to attempt to manipulate me, but I’m so immune to this shit now it isn’t even funny. I don’t know how it’s possible that I wasted so much time with someone who brings out the worst in me, now that I’m with someone who brings out the best.

  “Vince, I really was hoping that we could all get along tonight. I wanna clear the air. Can’t we be friends?”

  “No. We can’t.”

  “Well, I want to see Charlie.”

  “You can’t.”

  “You can’t stop me.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  She crosses her arms at her chest. “So what do you think of Russ? You like him, don’t you?”

  “I can see why you like him.”

  “And I can see why you like her.”

  “Fantastic. Are we done here?”

  She ignores the question completely, slides her hands down her midriff, and slips them into the front pockets of her shorts, hunching over a bit so I can see her cleavage. I know that move. I fell for that move over a year ago. It does nothing for me now. “So, he asked me to move in with him.”

  “The principal?”

  She nods. “Before the school year starts up again. I don’t know if I should. Everything’s happening so fast.”

  “Sometimes good things happen fast.”

  “So you think I should?”

  “I think it makes no difference to me if you do or don’t, and you’ve got no business asking my opinion.”

  “It’s just, you know. What if I give up my room at Darcy’s place to move in with him, and then he realizes this was just a rebound? I’ll never find as good a place with as cheap a rent as I have now.” She bites her lower lip, pretending to be confused. I almost hate her.

  I think of Nina and take a deep breath to calm my nerves so I don’t make a scene. “Who knows what’ll happen. You either enjoy what you have right now or you don’t, I guess. Personally, I’m actually grateful that you ended up with Russell, or I probably never would have found Nina. So thanks.”

  She looks at me, her lower lip quivering, and then her eyes harden. “Yeah, I feel the same way. If you hadn’t made it so unbearable for me to keep being Charlie’s nanny toward the end there, I wouldn’t have gotten my new job and I wouldn’t have met Russ. So thanks for being such a moody dick all the time.”

  “It was my pleasure.” I grin. She smiles. It’s probably as close as we’re ever going to get to a truce. I start to turn to go back into the restaurant. “Just stay away from Charlie. I mean it.”

  I gave our waiter my credit card to pay for the table before returning from the lobby and managed to get through dessert without showing any hint of emotion toward Sadie. But she had to get in one last dig about how “fascinating” it is that Nina and I got together, and I slammed my water glass down on the table. It startled Nina. I saw how Russell gave her a look afterwards, and Sadie had this smug expression on her face. There it is, she was thinking. I knew it. I had to get us out of there immediately.

  Now we’re back in our room, and Nina’s barely said two words to me. The TV is on, probably more to block out any sounds that Sadie and Russell will make when they get back to their room—but also to give her something to look at other than me.

  I feel sick.

  “I shouldn’t have agreed to go to dinner with them,” I say.

  She looks down at her hands. “I’m glad we did, to be honest.”

  “You are?”

  She nods. “Mostly. I had a pretty good little talk with Russell when you were in the lobby.”

  I feel my ears getting warm. “Yeah?”

  “Not a lot. I just…I think it’ll be okay for us to work together. I’m not mad at him anymore. I don’t think he’s mad at me.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad. Can we turn off the TV?”

  She picks up the remote and turns it off.

  I sit on the sofa beside her, taking her hands in mine. We both jump a little when we hear doors and drawers in the next room slamming shut.

  “Uh-oh,” she mumbles. “How’d your talk with Sadie go?”

  “It was…mildly dysfunctional.”

  “She’s very…shrewd.”

  “If by that you mean ‘manipulative,’ then yes. She is.”

  “I think Russell’s really taken with her.”

  I exhale slowly. “I do too. I’m so sorry I let her get to me like that. Slamming the glass down, and…”

  “I saw what she was doing. Trying to provoke you. I don’t blame you.”

  “Still, I should have been able to control myself better.”

  She gives me a quick glance, and I have no idea what it means.

  I can hear Sadie yelling behind the wall, so clearly, “Oh my God just give me one minute!” I can’t imagine the principal’s still going to want her to move in with him, but maybe he likes the drama. Some guys do. You never know how people are going to respond to each other. Maybe I wouldn’t have found Nina so appealing if I’d met her a couple of years ago, although that’s hard to imagine.

  She’s watching the door to our room, as if she’s afraid one of them will knock on it. We hear Russell say, “Just come on,” and then a few seconds later their door shuts and Sadie is stomping past our room.

  “We’re leaving!” she yells out. “Enjoy the rest of your stay!”

  Russell shushes her.

  Nina’s holding her breath until we hear their footsteps go all the way to the end of the hall. It’s quiet again.

  “I actually feel bad for the guy.”

  She nods. “I think I need to go to sleep,” she says, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Sorry. It’s just hitting me how tired I am.”

  “It’s nine thirty.”

  “I know. I just…I haven’t gotten that much sleep since I met you.” She grins. “I’m not complaining, believe me. I guess it’s just catching up with me. During the school year I’m always in bed by ten, you know.”

  Those words, During the school year. She might as well say: When you’re not a part of my life.

  She puts her hand on my cheek and kisses me. “Do you mind?”

  “Course not. I’ll read in bed beside you. If you don’t mind me keeping the lamp on.”

  She smiles. “I don’t. I’d like that, actually.”

  It’s the first time we’ve gone to bed without fucking first. Although, yes, we did it multiple times today already, but still. I’m all for domesticity, if that’s what this is a preview of, but something ain’t right.

  When I wake up, Nina is standing at the window, looking out at the rain.

  Perfect.

  “Morning.”

  She keeps looking out the window. “It’s raining,” she says ominously.

  “I’m sure it won’t last long.”

  “My weather app disagrees with you.”

  “Sounds like you should come back to bed.”

  She turns to face me and half smiles. “I was thinking we should get breakfast in the lobby while they’re still serving it.”


  “Okay. I’ll get up. Can we bring it back here?”

  “Probably. If that’s what you want.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “I guess. Let’s see what it’s like when we’re down there.”

  “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

  Fuck me. It’s like we just fast-forwarded three years into the relationship. Not that I’d really know what that’s like. Right now, I would do anything to take back everything that happened from the second Sadie invited us to dinner until now. Except for the sex part.

  We bring our breakfast back up to the room, and Nina has her Rainy Day playlist streaming on her Spotify app. I hate listening to music from a phone, but it’s so cute that she has playlists based on weather that I do not complain.

  I stare at her as she eats her buttered toast, watching her lick her lips, and even though we’re at a resort in upstate New York, this feels like home to me. I just don’t know how to say that to her without it sounding totally cornball gross.

  She looks up and sees me staring at her. “What?” She wipes her lips with the back of her hand.

  “You know, if you ever want to stay in and chill—I mean, back home—just tell me. I’d be fine with that.”

  “Really?”

  “Hell yeah, really.”

  “I don’t want to bore you.”

  “Well, I don’t want to tire you out.”

  “You don’t. Not at all.”

  “Good. You don’t bore me.”

  “But I’m such a lame nerd.”

  “You’re my favorite lame nerd ever. I totally geek out over you.”

  This seems to make her pretty happy. “I did bring a little something along, just in case it rained.” She gets up for her purse.

  “If it’s handcuffs, you are officially not lame. Not even close.”

  She reaches inside the bag and fishes around for something, shaking her head.

  “I will settle for a can of whipped cream.”

  She shakes her head again.

  “It’s gummy bears, isn’t it?”

  “I do have a baggie full of them. You want some?”

  “Maybe later.”

  She pulls out a deck of cards and holds them up. “Still lame?”

  “Depends. What’d you have in mind? Go Fish? Slapjack?”

  “Possibly. Or…”

  After beating my ass at Blackjack twenty times, she suggests Texas Hold’em. I tell her I’d rather play Go Fish, because it’s something I play regularly with Charlie and if she beats me at that, I’ll feel like I can retain a little dignity. More so than if she wins at poker. After last night, if I can’t leave this place with my dignity intact and a sense that I actually deserve this woman, then I don’t even want to know what that’ll do to me.

  23

  Nina

  “Well, that’s a shame,” I say, shuffling the deck of cards on top of the bedspread.

  “Why’s that?” Vince asks, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Don’t tell me you suck at Go Fish.”

  “Nope. I was going to suggest a game of Strip Poker. But now you’ve got me all excited about Go Fish.”

  He tightens his jaw, grinning. “Oh, you little tease.” He swipes the cards off the bed, knocks the empty plates to the carpet, and lunges toward me.

  I squeal, even though he’s doing exactly what I need him to do. This quiet tension that’s been building inside me since last night needs to be released…transformed…and he is surely the most adept, sexiest alchemist alive. He scoops me up in his arms and carries me…to the dresser across the room. Oh God, yes. The one piece of furniture in this room we haven’t done it on yet.

  He is rough and animalistic, looking up at me with eyes full of heat as he sets me down on top of the dresser. I guess not having sex with me last night was harder on him than I thought it would be, because he is…hard. Wow, he is so hard against my leg. While he kisses my neck, I try to unbutton his jeans—but he pushes my hand away, pulls his shirt off over his head, and drops his pants in one swift movement.

  I knew from the moment I first saw him that he could get naked fast, but that was the fastest I’ve seen him do it so far. Before I have a chance to reach for his cock, he growls and yanks my lounge pants and panties down, the shock making me jump a little so he can pull them off past my ass and to the floor. I start to raise my arms so he can remove my top and bra, but he is already pushing inside me. I gasp, but I am already so wet for him, it only hurts for a second. And once he’s thrusting into me, the dresser slamming against the wall, his hands holding me in place by the hips, I forget everything.

  There was no last night, there’s no rain, there are no questions, there is no end to this summer, there is only this.

  His breathy grunting, the heat between us, the savage need to be a part of each other in a way that’s so uncomplicated, the only word I can remember now is yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Blissed out after showering, tangled up in each other on the bed, I feel emboldened enough to risk the question.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “Is there anything else that I should know about you? Anything you’re afraid of telling me?”

  He doesn’t seem particularly surprised by this line of questioning. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t want you to get upset.”

  “I’m not.”

  “When you were out in the lobby, Russell mentioned something…”

  “That sounds promising,” he mumbles.

  “Something Sadie told him.”

  “I knew it. I knew something was up.”

  “I just don’t like him knowing something that I don’t. If that’s the case.”

  “Yeah. Fucking principals. You know, when I was in high school, the guy was always trying to ‘make an example’ out of me.”

  “The principal?”

  “He was a dick. I know they aren’t all like that, but I guess I have a bias against them. She knew that, too. I’m not saying that’s why she started up with him, but…I wouldn’t put it past her.” The way he says “she” when he’s referring to Sadie. He can’t even speak her name right now.

  “Wait, so it has to do with the principal of your high school?”

  “Not exactly.” He sighs.

  Here we go…

  He sits up and gazes down at my face. I’m sure I look so worried. I sit up too, pull my legs up to my chest, and hug them in. I give him a slow, reassuring blink to let him know he can tell me anything.

  “It’s really not that big of a deal, honest. You know my mom died when I was fourteen, after being sick for about a year. I was really close to her. Total mama’s boy. Gabe went off to college the next year, dealt with things his own way. So it was just me and my Dad. My dad just threw himself into his business. I don’t blame him for that, but I was a mess.”

  “I’m sure,” I say, putting one hand on his knee, the other over my heart.

  “I was just angry all the time. I was out all the time. Not with a rough crowd exactly, but they were older and they weren’t the ‘good kids.’ I never actually messed around in school, but the principal kept picking on me, even though he knew my mom had died. And I just kept getting more and more angry. Drinking and fucking around. And one day after school, I was in a corner store with my friends. This asshole who was pissed at me because the girl he liked was into me, he kept taunting me. He was like, ‘aww, why don’t you go cry to your mommy—oh wait, you can’t.’ It was so stupid, but I just lost it. I punched him, and we got into a fight. I shoved him and knocked over a bunch of shelves in the store, and the shelves hit the store window, which shattered, and it was a big, loud mess.

  “The guy’s arm was broken and he had a black eye. But he was mostly being a spaz because he couldn’t fight for shit. The owner of the store and the guy’s parents pressed charges. So I was arrested when I was fifteen. That’s the big awful thing. And I’m sure it set off a bu
nch of alarms in your ex’s head, only that was the only incident. Wait, that’s not exactly true. I got into a bar fight when I was twenty. But the guy was a buddy of mine, and we were both being drunk idiots. So it wasn’t a big deal; it was just stupid. Other than that, I used to sleep around a lot. But you knew that.”

  “Wait, but were you…incarcerated?”

  I can tell he’s trying not to laugh at my choice of words. “No. I was not incarcerated. I mean, I was detained after I was arrested. The judge was pretty understanding of my situation, so I was sentenced to community service and probation and mandatory anger management counseling. My dad had to pay the kid’s medical bills. And to fix up the store. I paid him back as soon as I started making money from bucket drumming.”

  “Were you afraid to tell me about all that?”

  “No. I’m not exactly proud of it. It’s just not something that usually comes up in conversation. I didn’t go to jail. I don’t have a record. I could run for public office if I wanted to. And after Charlie was born, I stopped drinking so much. After Clara left, I started seeing Dr. Glass again. Regularly for a while. Because I wanted to make sure I never snapped at him if I was in a mood. And I haven’t.”

  “So you have a therapist?”

  “The social worker I started seeing when I was fifteen. She eventually got another degree and started a private practice. She’s cool. You’d like her. I don’t always agree with her. At least, I don’t always take her advice. I hardly ever take her advice actually, but…” He looks at me and sucks in a sharp breath. “I have never physically hurt anyone since that bar fight, and I would never, ever hurt you. You have to believe me.”

  “I do.”

  “Do you? Because I need you to.”

  I nod. “I trust you… How many walls have you punched?” I say it without sounding accusatory.

  “Well. I’ve smashed a few inanimate objects over the years, and I am not proud of that. I’m not perfect. I’m not trying to be. It’s like those Rumi poems you gave me. I’m just trying to have the feelings and use my feeling words, and all that…crap.”

  I laugh.