“You don’t hate me?”
Her neck rears back, and she scrunches her nose. “Hate you? No! Why would I hate you?”
“Because I’m sleeping with the man who’s supposed to be unattached.”
“I would hate you if you were only sleeping with him. But you’re not.”
I’m confused. I look to Addie to find her just as confused. She’s biting her thumbnail while trading glances between Ryleigh and me.
“You’re in a relationship with Brock. If you were just messing with him so the other girls wouldn’t have a chance, I’d hate you. But you like him. He likes you.”
“How do you know that?” I whisper the question because I’ve lost my voice, along with my buzz.
Tilting her head to the side, Ryleigh doesn’t smile this time, but rather asks with sincerity, “Are you new at this?”
“New at what?”
“Dating, woman,” she exasperates. “My goodness, you’re adorable.”
Ryleigh labeling me as adorable due to my inexperience frustrates me, but I’m too thirsty to care.
“I need another drink, Ry. Addie won’t help. Will you?”
Addie’s eyes narrow. Ryleigh grins wide, and reaches for her purse.
“If you’re getting drunk because you’re pissed at a man, I’m getting drunk because I don’t have one,” she decrees.
“Well, okay,” I return.
Addie scoots to where Ryleigh was sitting. Her parental shaming expression comes too quick for me to get away.
“Okay, friend. I have a few things to say about your hour of confession.”
Shit.
I’m not sure I can sit up long enough to endure this. But, it’s Addie, so I try.
“By now, you know I love you,” she starts. “But stop it.”
She levels me with a knowing glare. I can’t help but cower slightly.
“You’ve been my best friend since the first grade, and I want good things for you. But getting drunk and pining over a man who you already know is here for the reasons he is, isn’t going to work for me. Slow your roll.”
“I’m trying,” I aimlessly advise, then quickly process Ryleigh’s knowledge about me and Brock. “You told her I worked at the zoo?”
Addie flinches. Not her best lie. “I ran out of things to say! She’d ask every night, and it wasn’t as if I could tell her you were upstairs bumping uglies with the hot man she’s supposed to date.”
“Oh God, Addie. Think she’ll rat me out to the others?”
Shaking her head, Addie moves back to her seat in the booth. She takes a drink of her margarita and replies, “No. She’s a good friend, and she told me she has no interest in Brock. She prefers a man covered in tattoos and rides a Harley.”
This surprises me, so I laugh. “She’s really not mad, is she?”
“Nope, but there are other women here who will be, so control yourself, please.”
Heeding her warning, I agree. “I’ll do better.”
“Good. Now, if you think you’re sober enough, I’d like to dance. That’s what we came here to do.”
I hate dancing. I’m not a good dancer. I don’t have the sexy or fluent moves other women seem to possess. However, to decide to appease my best friend. “One more shot, then I’m yours.”
“Has he texted?” she asks, changing the subject back to Brock. “Or have you shut him out with your jealousy?”
“Shut him out,” I admit.
I haven’t returned any of the text messages Brock sent this afternoon. He’s with Emilee tonight, and even though I know she isn’t interested in him, knowing she’s with him and I’m not burns.
“Throw the guy a bone, Brooke. He can’t do any more than you can.”
I see Ryleigh heading back to our table, so I grab my phone from my purse where Brock’s latest text was left unanswered.
Brock 04:47 p.m.: You’re changing the rules because you’re pissed. If the game’s been called off, tell me now.
Game. Right. Because all of this is a game.
Still too infuriated to answer, I stand from the booth and take the shot out of Ryleigh’s hand and down it quickly.
“We’re dancing!” I announce. I grab both Ryleigh and Addie’s hand, and lead them to my certain display of public embarrassment.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
This should be interesting.
Brock
-
“Holy fuck, you look pissed,” Drew observes as soon as he gets close.
Although I’m elated my friend is here, I’m still livid at Brooke for her bullshit play to ignore me.
“When did you get in?” I ask once we’re standing just outside the elevator. “I didn’t think you’d be here until tomorrow morning.”
“I caught an earlier flight,” he advises. “I met Clive. He’s everything you said. Cool cat.”
“He’s good people.”
Drew and I step into the elevator where he drops his bag and turns to me once the doors close. “What’s up with you?”
“Long day, longer night.”
“Date?” he questions. “’Cause it doesn’t look like it ended well.”
“Date was fine,” I answer, then admit, “It’s Brooke.”
During my break at home, I filled in both Nick and Drew about Brooke and what’s happened since before even knowing she was part of this production. Nick slapped my shoulder and congratulated me on getting laid, which is typical. Drew’s reaction was different. I saw his look of concern, laced with hesitation. He found it hard to believe I’d met someone, as in truly met someone. This is when he insisted he not only come for a visit, but stay the remainder of my time here to ensure I made good decisions.
“Ah, Brooke,” he replies. “Well, I’m here now, and I want a drink. Where to?”
The last thing I want to do is go back into the swarming crowd of people I just left.
The date with Emilee went as I predicted. She has no interest in me, and after about an hour of trying to make light conversation, I ended up asking her to be truthful. The woman is painfully shy, but she was honest.
As it turned out, Emilee Cruz wants to be here as much as I do. Once all the cards were on the table, we ended up having a decent conversation. It was a breath of fresh air, considering my day started with Kylee’s bullshit, which led itself to Brooke’s.
“We can grab a drink in my room,” I suggest.
Once the elevator opens, Drew grabs his bags, and we make our way into my suite.
He takes in the area and points to the couch. “This mine?”
“It is,” I return. “You’re not sleeping with me.”
“Doesn’t sound like Brooke will be either. What’s going on?”
My chest tightens. I’m not used to feeling out of place inside any relationship. I’m not used to being in a relationship, and if this is what one feels like, I don’t necessarily like how crazy it’s made me.
“Brooke’s a pain in the ass.”
“That’s so not how you described her before you left Dallas. You couldn’t get on the plane fast enough.”
“She wasn’t ignoring me then.”
Drew laughs. “Shit, that must hurt.”
I’ve changed my mind on staying in, so I point to my room. “I need to change. Be ready in ten.”
“To go where? You have a stocked bar here. We can stay in.”
“Be ready in ten,” I advise again, this time walking to my room.
Thirty minutes later, we’re standing in the foyer of the hotel, waiting for Jerry to bring the car around. He’s recommended a new club downtown, which I thought was odd, considering Jerry’s well over the age I’d consider him to being in the know. However, seeing as he babysits single contestants for a living, it’s probably me not giving him enough credit.
“So, who do you take out next?” Drew asks at my side. “And how many of these things do you have left?”
“I have three dates left. Ryleigh’s next.”
“Ryleigh,” he
repeats. “She the hot blonde, right?”
Turning in place to look at him, I narrow my eyes. Drew’s been watching the aired episodes. Ryleigh’s the girl who’s caught his eye. Obviously, during the trip home, I didn’t make myself clear about Brooke. Though, the woman is driving me nuts right now.
“Yeah, I guess. After her, it’s Kylee. Don’t ask if she’s hot, either.”
Drew laughs. “Already pegged her for a bitch. She’s good in front of the camera, though. All smiles and giggles.”
So true. Cameras roll and Kylee sheds her talons and shows herself as the sweet, girl next door your parents would love. It’s the scariest transformation from bitch to troll I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Then Brooke,” I explain. “I’m taking her out last.”
“’Cause she’s the one,” he knowingly states.
I thought so. I’m too irritated right now to admit it.
“Fellas,” Clive greets with his camera bag hanging from his hand. “I’m going with you tonight, cool?”
“What?” I clip. “Why? Who—”
Clive lifts his free hand and shakes his head. “Jerry insists. You’re out on the town with a friend from home. He said it’s camera worthy.”
Fucking hell. Not a moment of peace.
“So, I’ll follow in the van. If I happen to get detoured and lag behind an hour or so, you won’t get upset, will you?”
Reading him clearly, I turn and slap Drew on the chest as the limo pulls up the drive.
“Thanks for the head start, Clive. Appreciate you.”
“No problem, brother. Remember something tonight, okay?”
His tone is cautious. I don’t like it.
“What’s up?” Drew asks, eyebrows lifted.
My buddy is new to this, so he doesn’t understand what ‘cameras rolling’ actually means. Anything can happen, and thus far, I’ve kept the sordid true stories to a minimum. The press can do whatever they want. They will anyway.
“Jerry’s a good guy, but he’s also Matt’s guy. Remember that. See you in a bit,” Clive bids as he turns in the direction of his van just behind the limo.
Chapter Forty
He wants to date other people – fine.
He wants to let other women kiss him – fine.
He wants to marry another girl – fine.
All is fine.
Brooke
-
The crowd of young and single patrons is nearly out of hand. Everything is blurry since I’m a bit drunk, so my observations could be skewed.
It’s well past midnight and I’ve learned, after so many shots of tequila, that I’m not awkward on the dance floor, I’m a master on the dance floor. My body is moving in ways I’ve only known it to move when Brock touches me.
The warm touch of his fingertips burned my skin as I gyrated to the music.
The soft texture of his lips on my neck provoked me to stay lost inside the music.
His coarse voice at my back whispered against my ear, igniting my skin there to flames.
“Brooke!” Addie screams. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Talking!” I yell back. Just as I sit back in my chair, I find a hand on my thigh.
Addie’s lips purse, and she shoots an evil glare to the man beside me. In reaction, my body tenses and I turn to see her target. This is where I find a very tall, very broad chested, extremely handsome blond man with perfect teeth staring back at me. His eyes are a mix of gold and green. The depths of them appear heated.
Shit.
“Brooke, I think we’ve had enough. Are you about ready?”
“Where’s Ryleigh?” I question, straightening my posture to get a look at the crowd.
“She’s getting us a cab. Come on, it’s time to go.”
Pushing the man’s hand from my thigh, I turn in place to get a better look at him. He’d been on the dance floor earlier, and had been following me through the crowd. If I stopped, he stopped. We’d dance a bit before I moved away, where he would then follow.
“Evan,” he tells me after he has his hands to himself. “Evan Carson.”
“I don’t know you.” I scowl. “And you’re touching me.”
Evan laughs. It’s a sweet and carefree sound that relaxes me in a way it should not. Nothing about him screams ax-murderer, but I don’t know him.
“You don’t know me,” he offers. Did I say that out loud? “I was watching, though.”
The memory of Charles, the creepy skin man, comes to mind. He was creepy, though. Evan isn’t.
“Watching me?”
Nodding, he looks up to Addie standing by my side and winks. “Until your friends showed up. You shouldn’t drink so much and wander off alone.”
“I didn’t wander off alone,” I lie. I did, but only because Addie got lost in the crowd, and I wasn’t so drunk to know I needed to get myself out of it.
Tilting his gorgeous head, Evan smiles wide. “A girl like you shouldn’t drink so much.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” I smart.
Setting his beer down on the table next to my empty vodka-cranberry, he sits back and eyes me before bringing his gaze back to Addie. “She’s cute.”
“Not cute. My name is Brooke,” I say haughtily. “I’m also leaving.”
His eyebrows lift, probably surprised I’m not thanking him generously for babysitting me until my friends came to find me.
“I hope to see you again,” he suspiciously adds.
Leaning into me, he kisses my cheek. His lips are chilled from his beer, and he smells good. This scent is doctored in a manly way, but still, he smells fresh and clean.
“Brooke...” Addie pauses.
I turn to find out what she intended to say, only to note her eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen them. She swallows hard, and I catch that, too.
Evan has to move out from the table as I’m sitting next to him, blocking his way. My shoulder hits his as I turn in place.
“Shit,” Addie curses. “This is bad, Brooke. Bad.”
Narrowing my eyes, I stand next to her and scan to see what she does. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, so I ask, “What’re you talking about?”
Evan, as I now know him, stands next, coming to my back from behind. I feel his chest, the entire iron wall of it, and don’t move to step forward. The look on Addie’s face frightens me.
Evan clutches my waist and positions me to stand behind him. I go willingly, still completely lost as to what in the hell is happening. Visions of a gunman, driving at us mid-aim crosses my mind. A sword-wielding ex-girlfriend of one of the men here comes next. It’s not until I’ve regrouped that I peer over Evan’s shoulder and see Ryleigh making a beeline for our position in the crowd. Her face is tense as she walks in quick steps with another man I don’t know following closely behind her.
Then, I finally discover who else is coming. My breath hitches, and my knees get weak.
Brock.
As I take in his full view, my stomach pangs with longing. Brock’s wearing a black suit, white pressed shirt, and a tie which compliments his eyes. His hands are clutched at his sides as each heavy footstep brings him closer.
He looks livid.
“Do you know him, sweetheart?” Evan queries, turning his head to the side and asking in a low and very deep voice. The same voice I heard talking in my ear earlier. The same ear which now burns with betrayal.
I wasn’t doing anything wrong, per se. I was having a conversation with a nice guy who thought enough to see I was safe. Other than his hand on my thigh, he hadn’t touched me at all, other than to push a bottled water at me so I wouldn’t be sick.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I know him.”
“Do you want him here?” he asks, turning his gaze back to Brock just as he approaches.
Brock stands in front of us but says nothing. The man coming up to stand at Ryleigh’s side takes me in, and he judgingly observes. I don’t love that. He doesn’t know anything about what’s going on, and it’s not
nice to come to assumptions about people you’ve never met, drunk or not.
“Brooke,” Brock snarls. “A word?”
“Um-uh,” I stutter as I attempt to push Evan out of my way. My new friend is having none of it, so I look over his shoulder to Addie for help.
“Brooke, come here,” Addie instructs. “Brock, you need to step back.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Brock seethes. “And who the fuck is this?”
“Brock, there’s Clive.” The man, I assume is Brock’s friend, warns. This leads to Brock no longer focusing so much disdain at me, but rather the camera now holding a microphone over our heads.
The recently rowdy crowd slowly goes quiet, and the loudly beating song overhead comes to a halt. No longer are the walls bouncing with music; the chaos has stalled out completely.
This is the first time since being in L.A. where I’ve been put under the spotlight. And here I am, certainly not sober, and most likely not looking my best. Not that those facts matter because under Brock’s infuriated gaze, I’m melting into a puddle of uncertainty.
“Let’s go,” Addie insists, grabbing my hand, and pulling me to her.
Brock doesn’t spare me a glance. Instead, he turns to his friend and a string of quiet curses flies from his mouth. I’ve never heard him talk like that in anger. Once he’s settled, he runs his hands through his hair, but scores Evan with a gaze meant to insult, then finally takes two steps in my direction.
At first, I assume he’ll stop. Maybe even apologize for being ridiculously angry and ask me nicely to explain. He doesn’t, though.
Before he passes, I feel his breath on my face as he hisses, “So, I take it we’re over. Fine.”
What? No. This is not over. No!
“Brock...” I try to gather a thought, but my voice trails off. In the eye of the camera, centered between us, I gather up only enough courage to say, “It’s not what it looks like.”
He doesn’t answer. He wastes no time in walking away before my plea of innocence can be heard.
Shit.
Chapter Forty-One
She was never mine.
Brock
F*CK Reality: Take One Page 21