Duched (Duched #1)

by Xavier Neal

  “Slow down, Cujo,” I mock. “It's was nothing like that.”

  Same topic. Different direction.

  “Then what?” Jovi pushes.

  “It's not a big deal. We're just looking for different things in life. He's looking for a one off while I'm looking for...” The end of my sentence fades into uncertainty.

  Okay, so I don't know exactly what it is I do want, but at the very least I know it's not him. Well maybe it's him, but definitely not his type. I don't wanna be one of many. I wanna be the last one. I wanna be the only one. Ugh. I've got to stop watching the Hallmark channel this long after Christmas.

  Softly, she whispers, “Do you even know how that sentence ends?”

  I don't reply.

  Merrick folds his arms across his chest. “Are you sure that's what this guy is into?”

  “The random ex hook up whose call he ignored during our candlelight dinner fed me those bread crumbs.”

  His head slightly sways before he argues, “But maybe it's not like that with you.”

  Equal parts annoyed and suspicious, I lift my eyebrows.

  “Maybe you're different.”

  “Oh right. Because guys like that don't ever go to extreme lengths to get laid.”

  “They don't,” Merrick argues. “They don't have to.”

  Hate how much he sounds like Kellan right now.

  “If he's the type of guy you believe he is, the kind that loves 'em easy, and has no problem jumping from chick to chick, then the fact he's putting real effort into trying to impress you says it all. The chase of the challenge will push a guy like that to come after you for a couple days, but then the need to keep his ego stroked will have him stray from your no to a definite yes. If this guy is doing shit he doesn't typically do, it's because he has no intention on treating you the way he typically would if you were anyone else. And trust me. Once a guy finds the girl worth doing shit he never saw himself doing before, every chick from the past becomes nothing more than a haunting mistake he wishes he could erase.”

  His words burrow deeper than anticipated despite my best defenses. “It was only a couple of dates, Merrick. You're talking like he's in love with me.”

  He gives me an offhanded shrug. “How do you know he's not?”

  “Did you miss the first part of that sentence where I said we went out on two dates?”

  “Didn't even take me that long to fall in love with Jovi.”

  The adorable confession grabs a frustrated sigh from me.

  “My point is, don't be so quick to write him off if you're into him. Which you definitely are.”

  I attempt to argue when his girlfriend snips, “Don't bother denying it. I've never seen you this upset over a guy one way or another.”

  Because I don't get upset...We talked about this. Most guys don't even make it far enough into my life to warrant advise from the world's cutest but most meddlesome couple. Maybe they're right. Maybe they're wrong. We'll never know....I'm not answering him back.

  “Shouldn't you two be making out in the back of Merrick's truck or something? Or I don't know...at this big noisy place we call college? Basically, anywhere that's not directly in front of me with judging eyes?”

  The two of them chuckle and link hands. In an upbeat tone, Jovi states, “You gonna meet us for dinner and drinks after work?”

  Doubtful I'll be in any mood to watch them drunkenly suck face.

  “I'll let you know once I get off if I'm up for it.”

  She offers me a warm smile and nods. “Alright. We probably should head off to class before all the good parking is taken.”

  “By good parking she means the back lot where we can make out between classes.” Merrick wiggles his eyebrows.

  “I know...”

  Wish I didn't. The two of them carelessly making out in the middle of the day isn't a sight anyone should have to suffer through.

  Once the two of them leave, I take a long hot shower, throw on my uniform for work, and spend the spare time I have watching old reruns of FRIENDS on Netflix. Just past the credits on the third episode, the alarm on my phone indicates it's time to get going. I slide the device into my sweatshirt pocket along with my wallet and grab my keys from the coffee table in front of me.

  As soon as I open the front door, my eyes effortlessly lower to a glare.

  Are you kidding me?

  Kellan offers a cup to me from his sitting position on our apartment stairs. “Macchiato?”

  I shut and lock the door. “Are you capable of ordering anything that doesn't sound pretentious?”

  When I turn back around he offers me the other cup in his grasp. “Hot chocolate?” Seeing the start of a smile on my face causes his own to grow. “Can we talk?”

  My back braces itself against the door. “I thought it was clear I had no interest in doing that by the way I've ignored your calls and texts.”

  Kellan's smirk doesn't waiver. “Which is why I'm here in person. I'm more charming this way.”

  That's only because you can see his eyes and smile twinkle like a damn cartoon character.

  “Five minutes,” he pleads.

  His bright blue eyes continue his begging until I can feel my mouth caving without my consent. “Two.”

  Kellan motions to the space next to him where I sit as requested.

  He hands me the hot chocolate and confidently announces, “I like you, Brie.”

  “I'm hard not to like.”

  My joke receives a small chortle. “I mean it. I enjoy your company. You make me laugh. You're not afraid to give me shit. And you listen when the conversation veers towards things that truly matter to me. You don't spend time telling me the things you think I want to hear in order to get something to benefit you. In fact, the only thing you do that I don't enjoy is judge me for having a promiscuous past.”

  “You're not a girl. You don't get to say 'promiscuous past'.”

  “That's quite sexist.”

  “Well so is it when a woman is shamed for having multiple sex partners and a guy is high fived.”

  “Maybe she should be high fived,” he surprisingly argues. “If she feels she's that fantastic in the sheets and feels she should be enjoyed and praised over then give her a bloody high five. If she feels her worth is between her legs because she has nothing else to offer than by all means make it a double.”

  Unsure of how to reply, I remain silent.

  “Most men who behave as such, treating women like trophies of accomplishments, fall into the latter.”

  “What about you?”

  “Contrary to your belief, it's not about how many women I've been with. It's about the fun I've had.”

  Gotta say...Not really feeling any better about him.

  “That's why I do most of what I do. I don't understand why anyone would live in a world where they're bloody bored or fall asleep miserable at night from another mundane moment. I've grown up with death. I've seen it take people in various stages of who they are or who they were becoming and when it struck my door step, the decision to live as though your days are yours was an easy one. There are so many decisions in my life that are not my own that I will be damned if the ones I'm allowed to make aren't something I enjoy. I will not apologize for simply reveling in food or sex. To be completely honest, I don't even think it bothers you that I've had multiple partners. I think what truly bothers you is the fact part of you still wants me in spite of that.”

  My mouth bobs around desperate for a retort.

  He can't be right! He just can't! I don't want him. I want him to go away. I want him to stop calling and sending presents. I want him to stop showering me with undeserved attention. I want to him to stop making Merrick's speech possibly true.

  “That's why you've given me three minutes instead of two.”

  “Maybe I'm just not good at telling time...” After a deep sigh, I simply shake my head. “I'm not interested in being an ignored phone call. It's that simple.”

  “Well neither am I,” Kel
lan states sharply. “After three days of ignored messages and calls, I realized I don't have any desire to go through that again. It was driving me bloody mad. So, I'll always answer you if you'll always answer me, regardless of where this does or does not end up. Deal?”

  The unusual yet sweet proclamation has me fighting the instinct to smirk. “Deal.”

  Kellan's eyes light up in relief. “Are you off to somewhere now or do you have time to take this conversation inside?”

  “Work.” I twist the cup in my grasp, thankful it's keeping my hands warm.

  “After?” He cautiously questions. “Maybe we could order in? Catch a film?”

  “Movie,” I poke fun at his word choice, which causes us both to snicker. “Two dates in a row behind closed doors? You ashamed to be seen in public with me?”

  “Not in the mood to share.” His confession is followed with him leaning over towards me. “And I have every intention of making up the lost hours I spent in punishment.”

  All of a sudden the isolated memory of our kiss breaks free and engulfs my thoughts. Without resistance my mind recalls the rough movements on his tongue. The eagerness in its speed. The desperation in his groans.

  Heat rushes up my neck, straight for my cheeks.

  Kellan wets his lips in anticipation. “You're red.”

  “It's hot,” I meekly argue.

  “It's in the 50s..or 10s for those of us in the rest of the world who use Celsius.”

  “I'm wearing a sweatshirt!” His pleased expression grows and I snap, “I'm not having sex with you because you apologized.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “We're not having sex.”

  “Not tonight.”

  Don't agree with his addition!

  Knowing I don't believe it'll ever actually happen, but sensing a pattern when it comes to him, I simply say, “You can meet me back here around 5.”

  As we stand, he questions, “Here? You want me to finally meet your roommate?”

  A sarcastic expression crosses my face. “Absolutely not. It's tequila Tuesday at one of our favorite bars. One dollar shots, two dollar margaritas, and three dollar all you can eat nachos.”

  They understand what it means to live on a student budget.

  “And why aren't we going there? Sounds like a killer deal.”

  “Because you didn't wanna share,” I tease with a wink.

  Kellan nods and flashes another grin.

  Sauntering off the direction of my car, I say, “Thanks for the hot chocolate, Kellan.”

  His smile swells in what appears to be pride. “I'll see you after work, Brie.”

  I turn back around and exhale deeply.

  What the hell am I doing? I'm turning into the girl who cried man slut! One minute I'm convinced he just wants to screw me and the next I'm willing to see where all this goes? What is wrong with me? What is it about him and his mischievous smile that makes him so hard to deny? What if Merrick is actually right? What if- Wait. Did I just say that out loud? Did I just agree with Merrick McCoy of all people? What the hell? Did Kellan spike my drink? More importantly, why do I suddenly get the feeling this isn't about to be the fling he was hoping for and I was fearing?

  Kellan

  “This is ridiculous! We can't even agree on toppings!”

  “Who puts tomatoes on a pizza!”

  “It's a margheritia pizza! That's how they're bloody made!”

  “It's not real pizza! There's no meat on it! That just makes it fancy bread!” Brie turns to shout from her seat directly beside me on the couch in her apartment.

  You don't have to remind me agreeing isn't quite what we do best....But it's pizza for Christ's Sake. Why should this be that damn difficult?

  “Let's get two pizzas,” I suggest with a sigh. “You get your favorite. I'll get mine. You can try a piece and see it's not as terrible as you're imagining.”

  “That's what my mother used to say about broccoli and I still gag at the sight of it,” she mumbles and completes our online order.

  I watch over her shoulder, waiting for the payment screen, yet when it finally appears it disappears almost instantly. Slightly baffled, I struggle to question, “What about paying?”

  “Done,” Brie announces and shuts her lap top. “I order from them all the time, so my payment information is saved. Just click a button and it charges my card.”

  I do my best to hide the annoyance of my defeat. “I had the intention of buying us dinner.”

  She hits me a mocking pout. “Would it make you feel better to pick the movie?”

  Leaning back against the couch, I state, “You don't need to pay for me.”

  “And you don't need to pay for me,” Brie bites back.

  Sensing a nerve being pinched, I try my best to rectify for the situation. “I never meant to imply I did. It's the gentleman thing to do.”

  “So is calling a girl back who you spent the weekend with in the mountains.”

  Her accusation furrows my eyebrows. “Were you searching social media for updates on me?”

  “Would it bother you if I was?”

  Without hesitation, I reply, “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then...then you wouldn't be the woman I thought you were.”

  There's not much mystery to my social shenanigans. I'm not ashamed of them nor am I the one who insists on paying someone to clean up the crazy things I do to appear as though I'm just another socialite with too much time and money. However, since my mother died, I've come to typically encounter two types of women in the process of cameras snapping my photo. There are the ones who are numb to it because they have spent their entire existence in front of flashes as well and those who crave it, who hunt for it because they themselves crave that level of attention. The latter are the sorts that mainly end up in my bed and are also the reason I don't feel guilty when I don't feed their fifteen minutes of fame by enjoying another night of casual sex with them. They're also the sorts to stalk social media for sightings. Google my name aimlessly. Tell me more about me than they ever do themselves.

  Brie now looks slightly baffled. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means one of the very things I adore about you is the fact you didn't do those things. That you haven't been following the trash mags or their sites about my whereabouts or actions or recent conquests. Women who scan the internet for updates about me are the same ones who often end up on the list you are so adamant about avoiding.”

  “Is that the real reason why they end up there?”

  “No,” I clarify quickly, “but being a fame troll doesn't give them any benefit in the pointless pursuit to stay off of it.” Before the conversation can spiral the out of control direction I foresee, I ask, “How did you find out about the weekend in the mountains?”

  She grabs the remote. “It was trending online when I checked Facebook. Well...She was trending. Meegan Malone.”

  I knew her name started with an M.

  “I recognized her face as the one you ignored on our date. The pages were all reporting how she said she was devastated Prince Kellan Kenningston, younger brother of Prince Kristopher Kenningston, had given up on their relationship so early on.”

  “Relationship? Two days at a ski resort is not a relationship. I swear that one is mad.”

  “You mean mad like crazy?” When I nod, so does she. “You're right. She spent two days with you and wanted to keep seeing you. She must be bloody bonkers.” The poor accent barely blankets the underlying truth in her statement. Almost instantly, Brie realizes her slip, and adds, “I mean, come on now. There's no way you're that good in bed.”

  I smile knowing she enjoys my company more than she'll ever truly admit. “Better than your accent.”

  She sneers and turns her attention back to the television. “So, you're telling me we should watch one of her movies?”

  “If you want to spend the evening with my commentary on how poorly she does in her films and in bed.”
/>
  Haven't actually seen any of her films, but I assume if she's that over the top off camera, she's probably much more so on.

  She gives me a sarcastic glance. “What chick would want to hear about one of your ex flings in details?”

  “None, which is why you won't be choosing one of her films.”

  With a small nod of agreement, she faces the screen and returns to scrolling through our choices. After a long span of denying one another's choices, we finally agree upon a raunchy comedy just minutes before the pizza arrives.