“It’s. Not. Fucking. There,” he yells, and I flinch at the aggression on his face and in his voice.
I throw my hands up. “Well, then go buy a new one!”
“I want to wear it now,” he says through gritted teeth. He yanks the covers off me. “Go look for it. Now.”
“I’m not your damn servant. Go look for it yourself.”
His nostrils flare. “This is all your fucking fault! It’s your responsibility to find it!” he yells, and I’m done.
“I am not talking to you when you’re like this. When you decide to grow up and act like an adult, come talk to me. Until then, leave me the hell alone.” I hop up, shove past him, and lock myself in the bathroom.
I angrily strip my sleep shorts and tank off, my hands balling into fists at my side. I’m enraged and tempted to run back out there and kick him in the junk.
How dare he speak to me like that!
And he knows damn well that we share the household chores. If the stupid shirt is lost somewhere, it could just as easily be his fault. And I really don’t get what the big deal is anyway. Dylan has hundreds of shirts! Why is he so worked up over this one? The apartment door slams violently just as I’m stepping into the shower.
I tilt my face up to the warm water as steam fills the cubicle. I don’t understand where Dylan’s hot and cold attitude is coming from, but if he thinks I’m going to put up with that shit, he can think again. Resting my head against the glass, I contemplate what the heck is going on, wondering where the hell my sweet, mild-mannered man has disappeared to. If this is what the stress of his current project is doing to him, then I’d rather he can it in favor of something less taxing.
Needing a distraction, I head to the mall and buy a new dress for tonight.
We’re all meeting at the club where Slater works later to celebrate Myndi’s twentieth birthday. The owner knows we’re friends of Slater’s, so he won’t serve us alcohol, but he turns a blind eye if he sees us with a beer in hand. He’s told Slater on the QT that he’ll deny all knowledge if the cops arrive and bust us. It’s handy that Ryan, Slater, and most of their group are already twenty-one and they can get the drinks in.
Dylan hasn’t returned by the time I get back. I make dinner, leaving his on a plate covered with saran wrap, and then I go to get ready.
I’m dressed and doing my makeup when he arrives home. I sense him standing behind me in the doorway, but I purposely ignore him.
He pads toward me, and I stiffen. “Gabby. I’m really sorry.”
“That’s all you seem to be saying these days,” I retort, refusing to look at him.
“I know.” He sounds sad, and my every instinct is to turn around and cheer him up, but I can’t continue to let him get away with this behavior. He can’t think this is acceptable to me—because it isn’t.
I won’t be treated like this.
“Here.” He thrusts a bunch of white lilies at me. “Peace offering.”
I inhale the scent I love so much before setting the flowers down on the dresser. I turn to face him. “Thank you for the flowers, but that’s not going to make everything right.”
He sinks onto the edge of the bed, burying his head in his hands. “I know that too.” His voice is laced with resignation.
Silence engulfs the room for a bit, and then he lifts his head, and his eyes rake over me. “You look beautiful, Dimples.”
“Thanks.”
God, I hate how awkward and formal and upsetting this is. But I don’t know how to fix this. If it’s even in my power to do that.
“Shit.” He bolts upright. “It’s Myndi’s birthday thing. I completely forgot.”
I give him a curt nod, and he glances at his watch. “Give me a few minutes to grab a shower and change, and then we’ll call an Uber.”
I clear my throat. I’ve already given this a lot of thought today. “I’m going by myself.”
“What? No!” He stands right in front of me. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Promise.” Right now, I see the lost little boy I fell in love with as a kid, and it would be as easy as breathing to just give in to him, but I can’t.
“It’s not just about that.” I gulp painfully because this is going to hurt me too. “I don’t want you to come with me. I’m still too angry and upset, and I don’t want to end up fighting and ruining Myndi’s night.”
He reaches out to touch me, and I instinctively move back. He flinches and hurt splashes across his face.
I don’t think I’ve ever shrunk from his touch before.
His eyes probe mine, and I’m struggling not to give in to the tears building at the back of my eyes, but I’m determined to be stronger. To deal with this like a grown-up and not to fall apart at every turn.
“You really want to go alone?”
I nod.
He hangs his head, and his shoulders heave. I feel like the biggest bitch, but I’ve got to remind myself I haven’t done anything wrong. He’s the one changing. Not me.
Slowly, he lifts his head, and the furious look in his eyes drains the color from my face. I clasp a hand over my chest, gulping back panic. Dylan has always been prone to mood swings, but I’ve never seen him flip so quickly from one extreme to another. “I know why you’re doing this,” he spits. “It’s so you can be alone with him!”
Not this again. “It’s got nothing to do with Slate, if that’s who you’re implying. And I find your suggestion offensive and hurtful. I haven’t done anything to make you doubt me.”
Unlike you. I think it, but I don’t say it. I don’t want to leave here all upset and ruin the night. Myndi is my best friend, and I want to celebrate her birthday with her.
“That’s not really true though, is it?”
“What exactly are you accusing me of?” I demand, placing my hands on my hips.
Locking his hands behind his head, he blows air out of his mouth. “Nothing. Nothing. Forget I said anything.” When he steps toward me again, the naked aggression is gone from his face. “Please let me come with you. A few drinks and some dancing is just what we need to put us back on track.” He moves to cup my face and I let him. “Let me make it up to you. I promise I’ll treat you like a princess all night. I love you, baby. Please don’t push me away.”
I shake my head, and I can barely speak over the lump in my throat. “No,” I whisper. “If you love me, you’ll let me go by myself because it’s what I want.”
His hand drops away, and he’s quiet for a bit. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
He nods and leaves the room. My lip wobbles, and my hand is shaking as I finish my makeup. I don’t know why it feels like I’ve done something wrong when I haven’t.
Grabbing my purse and a light jacket, I step out of the bedroom and into the main living space. “I called an Uber,” Dylan says from his position on the couch. “It’s waiting outside for you.”
“Thanks.”
I walk toward the door with a sick, twisty sensation churning in my stomach.
“Gabby. Wait.” He races to my side, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek. “Have a good night and tell Myndi I said happy birthday. Make sure someone walks you out later, and don’t wander off by yourself.”
“I will.”
He pulls me into a gentle hug, and I’m fighting tears again. It’s official: I’m a complete basket case. He pecks my lips sweetly. “I love you. Stay safe.”
I feel like a complete bitch as I walk away from him, and I almost change my mind, but something tells me not to.
The others are at the table Slater reserved when I arrive. Ryan and Myndi are eating the face off one another with no consideration for their other guests. Another couple of girls are there from our class with their boyfriends, along with Slater and two of his buddies. Slater usually works Saturdays, so he must have gotten the night off.
“Dylan’s not coming.”
“He’s not?” Myndi asks, finally surfacing for air.
“He’s got another migraine,” I lie, feeling bad about it but not wanting to say anything to my bestie tonight about the shit going on in my life.
“That’s too bad,” Ryan says. “You should’ve told me, and we would’ve swung by to pick you up.”
“Dylan got me an Uber. It was no biggie.”
“I’m driving, so I’ll drop you home later,” Slater says.
“Cool. Thanks.”
“Right? What’s your poison? You want a Cosmo or a beer or that Godawful sweet crap you like,” he asks.
“I think I’ll have the Godawful sweet crap. I need the sugar rush.”
“It’s your teeth,” he says, sliding out past me. “One sickly sweet fruity drink coming up.”
I chat with the others and give Myndi her birthday present while Slater is at the bar. Myndi rushes around the table, squealing and hugging me, in between drooling over the Michael Kors purse I bought her.
Slater returns with a tray full of drinks and we all relax, chatting, laughing, and drinking. I’m trying to enjoy myself, but it’s like there’s this thunderous cloud looming over my head, ready to erupt at any second. I don’t usually drink too much, but I’m deliberately knocking them back tonight because I want to feel a happy buzz and forget.
It doesn’t take long to feel the effects and then I’m dragging Myndi and the girls up to the dance floor where we work up a sweat. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy a group of girls swarming our table, moving in on the guys. Myndi notices too, but she doesn’t make any attempt to go back there, watching to see how Ryan reacts.
My brother expertly deflects each and every advance, and Myndi’s smile is so wide it might split her face. A sour taste fills my mouth as I watch a girl in a barely there red dress plaster herself to Slater. She’s sitting in his lap with her arms on his chest, licking the side of his neck. His hand is on the exposed part of her back, and he’s making swirling motions with his fingers as he talks to his buddy. The girl doesn’t seem to care he’s paying her scant regard, continuing to paw at him with her mouth and her hands.
“Ahem.” Myndi draws my attention away, and my cheeks flush red. She pulls me over to the side of the dance floor. “You don’t seem yourself tonight. What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
Pursing her lips, she scrutinizes me with a slight frown. “You sure?”
I vigorously nod my head. I will tell my bestie everything that’s going down, just not tonight. I don’t want anything putting a dampener on her birthday night. “I don’t know why he does it,” I say, jerking my head in Slater’s direction in a deliberate attempt to manipulate the direction of the conversation. “I don’t know how anyone can just randomly sleep with strangers.”
“That’s because you’ve only ever been in love with the one guy. It’s not actually that difficult. It’s just sex. A way to let off steam. It’s quite easy to remain detached and just enjoy the act for what it is.”
“I don’t think I could do it,” I say, my eyes wandering to the table again of their own volition. I hurriedly disguise my reaction when my gaze locks on Slater’s. The girl is still in his lap, except she’s straddling him now and pressing kisses all over his face.
But he isn’t looking at her.
He’s eyeballing me.
With an intense, smoldering look on his face that skyrockets my pulse into orbit.
I quickly look away. “Let’s keep dancing,” I implore, holding Myndi’s hand and tugging her back out onto the dance floor. I force my eyes frontward and ignore all temptation to look over at our table. After a few minutes, I find my rhythm again, and all errant thoughts flee my mind.
When the music shifts, slowing down, I suddenly find myself deserted on the dance floor as the girls melt into the arms of their guys. A pressing weight settles on my chest, making breathing difficult. Dylan would ordinarily be here, pulling me into his arms and holding me tight against his body. Potent longing consumes me, and I sorely regret telling him he couldn’t come tonight. I already miss him.
A hand lands on my elbow and I startle. “Hey, it’s only me,” Slater says, extending his hand. “Dance with me?”
I eye his hand warily. It isn’t the first time I’ve slow danced with Slater, but somehow, this feels different. I should say no, but my head bobs in agreement instead, and he takes my hand in his warm, callused one, leading me over to the far side of the floor, away from the others.
He pulls me into his embrace, heating me upon contact. Tentatively, I place my arms around his neck, trying to keep an appropriate distance between us. For some reason, I’m acutely aware of every rippling muscle in his chest and abs and how defined his biceps are. Noticing how warm and alluring his eyes are, as if it’s the first time I’ve realized this. And how did I never spot how full and kissable his lips are.
My thoughts veer into new confusing territory, and I don’t understand this odd reaction to my brother’s best friend. A guy I’ve known for years and only seen as an extension of my brother.
Heat seems to roll off him in waves, knocking into me and rendering me senseless. We’re swaying from side to side without speaking, and an undercurrent zips between us, charging the air. A fine line of sweat trickles down the back of my neck, and my mouth is dry. I’m wondering why I felt it was a good idea to do this when it feels fraught with tension.
“Relax, Belle,” Slater says, recognizing how uncomfortable I am. “I won’t bite.” He grins wickedly. “Unless you want me to.”
My lips curve up at the corners. “Stop that. I’m not one of your groupies. Your lines don’t work on me, mister.” I glance over my shoulder briefly, but I can’t see our table from here. “Speaking of groupies, what happened to the latest cling-on, and shouldn’t you be dancing with her?”
“Shelby knows the score, and if I wanted to dance with her, she’d be up here with me.”
“Why do you do it?” I blurt. “Why do you screw all those girls?”
He smirks, arching a brow. “I think it’s pretty obvious.” He tweaks my nose, and I swat his hand away.
“Don’t you get sick of it? Don’t you feel lonely?”
He shrugs. “I’m usually too busy to feel lonely, and girlfriends are more trouble than they’re worth. I’m happy the way I am. Besides, I don’t hook up that much anymore.”
I’m calling bullshit on that, but I’m not going to challenge him now. Not when I’m buzzing and acting weird around him.
“Does Dylan really have a migraine?” he asks, losing the cheeky smile and fixing me with a penetrating look.
“No,” I whisper, averting my eyes. “I just needed some space to clear my head.”
He tilts my chin up with his finger. “I need you to answer something for me.”
“Okay.” Trepidation is evident in my tone.
“What did Dylan tell you about the night I saw him?”
My eyes dart all over his face. “Why does it matter? He told me about that girl, and I’m trying to forget about it.”
“Just humor me.” He tucks my hair behind one of my ears, sending shivers down my spine.
Slater is a stubborn fucker at the best of times, so I know he won’t let this drop. Might as well just tell him what he already knows. “He told me this girl was coming on to him and she grabbed his crotch, but he stopped it from going any further.”
His Adam’s apple jumps in his throat, and a flash of anger whips across his face. He cusses, closing his eyes briefly, and immense fear is like a vice grip around my heart as realization dawns. My heart thrashes against my
rib cage, and blood thrums in my ears. “That’s not what happened, is it?” I whisper, hating how my voice breaks.
Slowly, Slater shakes his head. “No, sweetheart. That’s not how it went down.”
Chapter Eleven
“Tell me. Please.” My heart is pounding, and nausea pools at the back of my throat, but I’m not going to shy away from this. I need the truth. And if Dylan won’t give it to me, then I’ll seek it wherever I can.
Slater’s features soften, and he pulls me a little closer to him, circling his arms more firmly around my back. “Belle, this is going to hurt, but I told him if he didn’t tell you then I would. I’ve given him every chance to come clean, but he’s left me with no choice. I won’t … I can’t stand by and watch him do this to you.”
“Please just tell me what really happened,” I beseech, not sure how much more anxiety my heart can withstand.
“I went up to his table because he was all over some other girl.”
The first rupture penetrates my heart.
“They were making out like crazy, and I was furious with him, but it was much worse when I got to the table.” Tears are already streaming down my face. Slater kisses my forehead. “God, Belle. I hate to be the one telling you this, but you need to know.”
“Go on,” I rasp, just needing to get all the breaking over and done with.
He hugs me tight and then eases back, looking me directly in the face as he rips my heart to shreds. “She was giving him a handjob under the table, and he didn’t seem to care that they weren’t being very discreet.”
“No!” I gasp. “Dylan wouldn’t do something like that!”
“Belle.” His voice is soft as he cups my face. “Do you think I’d lie to your face? This is me.” His eyes examine mine as silent tears continue to fall. “Do you think I’d ever want to hurt you like this? I care about you. Deeply. And you know me. You know I wouldn’t make this up.”
“I … I know but … but Dylan wouldn’t do that to me! Especially not in public.”
A pained expression is etched on his face, and a second rupture tears my heart straight down the middle. A strangled sound rips from my throat, and Slater gathers me into his arms, holding me tight against him and lowering my head to his shoulder. I sob into his shirt as he holds me, my mind a mess of warring emotions. “I’m so sorry, Belle.” He rubs his hand up and down my spine.
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