The Right Kind of Wrong: A Brother's Best Friend Romance

by Fabiola Francisco

  After giving my brother and Faith more of a tour around my small apartment, we head down to Toro, the bar near my building. As we walk down the street, they comment on buildings and stores, asking me questions about the city I’ve called home the last couple of years. I love that they’re here and seeing where I live. I never thought I’d see the day they came to Spain. It’s such a long way from Everton.

  We walk through the open door of Toro, moving past the crowded tables and conversations that mingle and combine in the air. Once we reach the bar, Faith’s wide eyes look around.

  “This is insane.”

  “Right? It’s a Friday afternoon, and it’s summer. People are out and about, having drinks and tapas before dinner.”

  “You mean, they still have dinner after?” She checks the time on her phone.

  “Yup, around ten in the evening.”

  “Wow,” she breathes out.

  “It’s crazy,” Easton adds, taking in the wooden decor, frames of bullfighters on the walls, and Serrano hams hanging from the ceiling in the bar from hooks. It’s so different than what we’re used to, and yet I fell in love with this place as soon as I stepped in. I quickly became a regular, building a friendship with the bartender.

  “Do you guys want beer or wine?” I lift my eyebrows as I smile.

  “Beer,” Easton says.

  “Same,” Faith nods.

  I wave at the bartender, who smiles and tilts his head so he can hear me. “Tres cañas,” I order three draught beers over the loud murmurs in this bar. With our drinks in hand and a plate with sautéed mushrooms and aioli potatoes, we clink our glasses together in a toast.

  “This is good beer,” Easton comments, looking at the glass.

  “I know. It’s pretty amazing. Try the potatoes. You’ll love them.”

  We eat and drink while Easton and Faith tell me about their time in Greece, showing me more pictures than the ones they had sent while they were away. We order a second round of drinks, enjoying the extra round of tapas as well, and I tell them about work and make a plan to visit places tomorrow.

  I’m on cloud nine having my family visit. It can get lonely at times, being so far from my family and friends, especially after my dad passed away three years ago. It was a shock to us all when we learned of his heart disease, and even more so watching him go. The only thing that consoles me is that I know I have him watching over me and protecting me.

  I take a deep breath and nod when Faith suggests we take a picture. While Easton holds the phone in our direction, shameless selfie-style, we all smile and hold up our beers.

  “Where to now?” Easton asks, clapping his hands.

  “How about instead of sit-down dinner, we continue having tapas? We can go to a few different places. I’d suggest a corto instead of a full draught.”

  “What’s a corto?” Faith asks.

  “It’s like a mini draught, so you won’t get so full off of beer. Besides, it gives us more chances to eat tapas,” I wink.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Easton guides us out of Toro after paying, and I lead the way to the next bar.

  We laugh as we drink our beers, take a ton of pictures, and eat a lot more delicious food. This beats vegging out on the couch with my bag of chips. Having Easton and Faith here, even if for a few days, will help me get out of my recent slump and weird mood. Not to mention, it will distract me from Camden and the ghost of his hands I still feel on my body.

  When Faith asks if I’ve met anyone, I shake my head with my nose scrunched up and take a sip of beer.

  “There are cute guys, though.” She looks around the current bar we’re in, a more modern place that’s filled with more tourists and a combination of different languages swirling around us.

  “Yeah, but I haven’t met anyone really worth getting to know.”

  “I’m sure you’ll meet someone,” she says with a smile.

  “You’re okay single. Don’t settle for someone who isn’t worthy of you,” Easton pipes in, and I roll my eyes. Big bro protector kicks in, and I can’t help but giggle.

  I’m an adult, and I’ve been making my own decisions for a long time. Besides, it’s not like I’ve ever just fallen into bed with someone for the sake of it. Until recently… I remind myself that’s no longer the case after the night of the wedding. I shiver at the memory and chug what’s left of my beer.

  Tonight is about family, fun, and more booze than I should consume, not about remembering a fling and getting caught up in emotions I have no business having.

  chapter 6

  Camden

  Fuck me. And not in the, I’m fucking whoever I want and thoroughly enjoying it. It’s more along the lines of my life is a mess for the first time, and it has to do with the woman who’s staring back at me from my phone screen, holding a glass of beer with her brother—my best friend—and his wife.

  I haven’t seen or heard from her since I walked off the airplane in New York. I’ve been so busy with work and helping Logan with Hotline Hookup, the dating app. When Mallory, Owen’s business partner and girlfriend, found out I had flown to New York from Everton, she about jumped out of her skin with excitement, telling me how her cousin lives there. Her cousin, Lia, is Knox’s sister-in-law. Small, small world. I couldn’t believe it when she told me.

  Now, I’m back in my apartment in Richmond, daydreaming about Allyson and her full lips and soft hands. I’m so hung up on her, I haven’t so much as been able to flirt with another woman since the wedding. No one even catches my eye.

  Instead, I’m following Easton’s Instagram like a creepy stalker, looking for any glimpses of Allyson in his photos, wondering if she’s slept with anyone else or if she’s also thinking about me. Searching for her account, I check to see if she’s posted any new pictures, and I groan when I see a photo from a few hours ago in her story. She’s still in bed with the caption, Someone bring me coffee and a pastry. Her sexy pout lures me in, and her swollen eyes remind me of the morning she woke up freaking out because of what we did.

  My fingers itch to send her a private response, a joke about repayment if I took her what she asked for, but I don’t. I stop myself. Because as much fun as it was to tease her, I’m now torturing myself in the process.

  Adjusting myself in my sweatpants, I make my own coffee and grab a banana. I have work to do, even on a Saturday, but all I can think about is hitting the gym in my building and burning some of this pent-up need.

  Tonight, I’ll go out for drinks and distract myself. There’s no future for Ally and me, not even another night in the sack, so there’s no point in holding on to a memory that will eventually burn to the ground in a pile of ashes. Or make my life go haywire like a spazzing computer on the verge of burning out. I’ll end up in a pile of crap just like that computer if I even consider another night with Allyson. Easton will make damn sure of it. And I can’t betray my friend more than I already have.

  I pull at the roots of my hair, squeezing my eyes shut. It’s all fun and games until you fuck your best friend’s younger sister. I’m unsure of what’s right or wrong—fess up to Easton and deal with the backlash or keep it to myself, risk him finding out, and make the betrayal even worse.

  I finish off my coffee and change into my workout clothes, taking the stairs down to the gym as my warm-up — nothing like running down twenty-four flights of stairs to get your heart pumping and mind clear.

  By the time I make it into the gym, I’ve built up a sweat. Stalking toward the treadmill, I begin running until Allyson is a distant memory and the only thing straining are my thigh muscles and my furiously pumping heart.

  - - - - -

  Allyson

  I stare at his name on my story insights on Instagram. He looked at my pictures. He’s been keeping up. That thought shouldn’t excite me, but knowing that Camden has been thinking of me, at least enough to look at my Instagram account, makes me uncharacteristically giddy when it really shouldn’t. I’m thousands of miles away. There’s no real chance at
anything, and even if there were, there’s still the issue with my brother. I’m not sure how he’d react to me being with Camden, in any sense of the word. He knows Camden too well to probably be okay with me… dating him? Sleeping with him? I’m not sure what we’d even do.

  “Hey,” Easton’s deep voice draws me out of my wild imagination.

  “Yeah?” I look up at him with wide eyes. It’s their first full day in Madrid, and we’ve been walking around after having breakfast at a café I love that has the best croissants.

  So far, we’ve walked down the streets, taking in the historic architecture in this city, and passed by the Royal Palace of Madrid. The sound of cars whooshing by reminding us of the busy traffic this city has, but nothing competes with the amount of people filling the city streets. No matter where you turn, you find groups of tourists, families, young kids, older couples. It’s fascinating and overwhelming all at the same time.

  “What’s that there?” He points to an archway crowded with people.

  “Oh, that leads to the Plaza Mayor,” I tell them, weaving through the crowds of people as we walk toward the main square. It’s a magnificent square spanning out all around. I swear thousands of people could fit at one time.

  “Wow,” Faith gasps. It’s lined with buildings that border the square as it opens up before us. Different cafés and restaurants sit on the ground floors of those buildings. Tourists wander around, taking photos and having a cold beer, coffee, or a glass of wine out on the terraces.

  “Do those people live there?” Easton points up to a few balconies, where people look down at the square.

  “Yeah, they’re apartments. Isn’t that crazy?” I look around, taking it all in.

  “Do people spend their lives drinking here?” Faith asks, noticing the time. “It’s not even noon.”

  “Welcome to Spain, where the alcohol flows more than the numerous rivers in this country.”

  “Damn,” Easton comments.

  “I know. It’s crazy, really, but a mid-morning drink is part of the lifestyle. A lot of people drink vermouth—they actually call it the vermouth hour—but I don’t really like it. Others have a beer, a coffee. Really anything you want. I love sitting on the terraces and watching people.” I move around a man taking a picture of a family to not disrupt their photo.

  We make our way around, Easton and Faith asking me about the statue of the man on a horse in the middle of the square.

  “I honestly have no idea who that is. Maybe an old king?” I shrug. Giving them time to take photos, I take my own, including a video clip for my Instagram story. Social media has been heaven sent when it comes to keeping in touch with my family and friends, allowing them to experience my life in Spain alongside with me.

  “Drink?” I lift my eyebrows when Faith and Easton head my way.

  “When in Rome…” Faith laughs. Easton wraps his arm around her and looks at her with so much love that I feel a small pang in my chest. If I ever want a chance at what they have, I have to be willing to at least give a guy a chance. Who cares if this isn’t my permanent home so long as I like the person. And who knows? Maybe I’ll fall in love and end up staying in Spain forever.

  The idea of missing out on nieces and nephews, being close to my family, makes me somber, but if love wants me here, then love will have me.

  Internally shaking my head at myself, we walk to a terrace that has a table available and take a seat, ordering three beers to help cool off on this searing, August day. Sometimes I drive myself crazy with my own thoughts.

  After our beers, Easton, Faith, and I make our way to Parque de El Retiro, a huge park in the city with beautiful gardens, monuments, and a lake where you can rent rowboats. It’s all very romantic in retrospect, but it’s also a great place to get lost when the chaos of the city becomes too much to bear. And some days, I need a break in a beautiful place to collect myself when I’m feeling stressed or homesick.

  I let Faith and Easton row around the lake while I wander around the park. That way, they can do their cute, couple thing and still feel as if they’re on their honeymoon and not have me third-wheeling. I take advantage of the time by photographing the gardens and observing the nature around me.

  Breathing in deeply, I smile to myself as I watch the sun peek through the branches, heating us up like a burning flame. I bunch my hair in my hands and throw it in a ponytail, glad to feel the breeze against the back of my damp neck.

  When I make my way back to the boats, I smile as I see Easton and Faith in the distance, laughing and taking pictures. I’m definitely going to miss them when they leave on Monday, but I’m so freaking grateful they popped over here on their way back home. Shaking away any sadness, I come up with our evening plans. Yesterday we took it slow with our tapas, but tonight I plan to show them Madrid’s nightlife. First, we need to have lunch and a nap, because I cannot party like I used to when I was in my early twenties. And fiesta and siesta must rhyme for a reason.

  Excited about tonight, I sit on a nearby bench and resist the urge to check my phone in case Camden has viewed more of my pictures.

  chapter 7

  Camden

  “What you’re telling me is that you slept with Easton’s sister?” I look at Luke’s wide eyes as I take a drink of scotch. Luke and I have been friends for years, Easton also being a friend of his. We all met in college, and I’m not one bit surprised by the shock painted on his face.

  No longer able to deal with my inner turmoil, I caved and called him up to meet at a bar and tell him what happened. I figured talking to someone about it would put things into perspective, but it’s only confused me more.

  “Sure, Allyson is hot, but man, Easton is going to kill you if he finds out. I do think it’s best that he hears it from you. What if Allyson caves and tells him, or worse, he finds out from someone else. You said the owner of the bed and breakfast saw you guys in the morning, and she’s friends with his wife.” Luke’s eyebrows remain raised as he shakes his head.

  “I know, I know. I’m just not sure what he’s going to say or how he’ll react. He’s like a brother, and the idea of losing him because of this has me in knots.”

  “If I may…” Luke nods once and purses his lips. “From what you’ve told me, this is more than guilt for sleeping with Allyson. You’re hung up on her.”

  I shake my head. “Nah, it was one night.”

  Luke scoffs, a deep sound coming from the back of his throat. “Yeah, and I’m engaged to Jennifer Aniston. Your denial is as unbelievable as me marrying her. Dude, maybe you should be honest with why you’re all tied up and go from there. If you’ve got feelings for her, then maybe you can work it out.”

  “No, she lives in Spain. That’s a whole ocean apart. Not to mention, she isn’t the kind of girl that would go for me—”

  “And let me guess, you’re not the kind of guy to settle down in an actual relationship. I’ve heard you spew that shit more than once. To be frank, it’s getting kinda old now that we’re in our thirties. If you want the girl, go for the fucking girl.” He slaps my back in what is supposed to be encouragement, but I cough up the whiskey I was swallowing. Whether it’s because of his slap or the truth in his words is what I’m unsure of. I’m guessing it’s a combination of both. I have nothing against settling down. I just haven’t found someone who makes me want to take that step. Could Allyson be it?

  “If you do,” Luke continues, sharing his words of wisdom. “Talk to Easton first. Let him know what’s going on.”

  “Maybe I should talk to Ally first before I make a big deal out of it and get a big, fat rejection.” Usually, I’m the one turning women down, not the other way around.

  “Say what you want, brother, but you’ve got it bad.” His emphasis only fuels me more, wanting to prove him wrong. I spin around in my barstool, looking at the people lingering around.

  “If you really don’t care, pick a woman and take her home,” Luke taunts.

  “You’re a fucker,” I grunt, which caus
es him to laugh. None of these women appeal to me, and it’s all because of that green-eyed beauty I shouldn’t want.

  Paying for our drinks, I leave the bar and grab my phone once I’m seated in my car. Opening Instagram, I look at Allyson’s pictures before sending her a message.

  I inhale deeply, slowly releasing my breath. Here goes nothing. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, but I’m hoping this is one of those learn as you go moments, because I could use the trial and error.

  @CamIAm: Hey

  Okay, I was hoping for something better than that. Smoother even. I haven’t spoken to her in four weeks, and all I have to say is, Hey? Also, when the hell did I create my Instagram handle to be @CamIAm? Was I going for some Dr. Seuss twist of Green Eggs and Ham? Shows how much I actually use the app.

  Going into my settings, the first thing I do before sending her a follow-up message is to change my name to something more mature and professional than a fifteen-year-old’s idea of cool. Ready to write her another message, I give myself a pep-talk and type.

  @CamSteeleIT: How are you?

  Now, I wait for her response. I’m not sure what the time difference is, but she very well could be sleeping. All I know for certain is there’s a reason why I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind. No woman has lingered for longer than a few days after having sex with her. Maybe it’s because I know Allyson as more than a woman I slept with, or it could be the guilt I feel for keeping this from Easton. I ignore the nagging feeling that the real reason is something deeper and drive home, ready to head to bed and wake up with a clearer mind.