What are the Chances

by Brittany Taylor

  “Char?” I push open the door the rest of the way and find her standing in the middle of the room, looking out the window. “What are you doing in here?” I ask.

  Turning around, she grins and raises her shoulders, relaxing them with a heavy breath.

  “I figured this is where I was going to sleep now.”

  I slowly walk toward her, my bare feet pressing against the cold hardwood floor.

  “You mean ‘we’, right?”

  Suddenly, as if she hadn’t noticed, her eyes widen, focusing on my bare chest.

  “Yes, I meant ‘we’,” she whispers. I watch as she presses her lips together, then swallows, her neck dipping from what seems like nerves. I find it endearing she’s still nervous around me. I can tell she’s comfortable, but I still somehow manage to stir something inside her. There’s a fire behind her eyes when she looks at me. Her touch is gentle, yet commanding. Much the same way I feel about her. I haven’t felt this way about a woman in… I don’t even know how long.

  Finally, her eyes travel up to mine when she lifts her hand and rakes her fingers through my still wet hair. She pushes my hair back, away from my forehead, without a word. She doesn’t seem as nervous as when I first stepped into the room, now that my body is in front of hers.

  I slide my hand along her hip and rest it against the small of her back, pulling her into me, her still clothed body warm against my cool skin. Lifting my hand, I tuck her loose strands behind her ear.

  “Ye keep me warm, álainn.”

  “Yeah?” Standing on her toes, she leans into me, bringing her mouth to the spot on my neck just below my ear, planting a soft, lingering kiss there before whispering in my ear, “Well, you keep melting me, Mase.”

  I close my eyes and breath through my nose when I feel her hands move along my sides, dragging her fingertips across my waist, then down to the muscles of my hips. I’m immediately hard for her, thankful to be in a towel, not feeling the restrictive fabric of jeans or pants.

  Gripping the top of my towel, she slowly unravels it, allowing it to drop to the floor. The cold air in my old bedroom hits my cold, freshly washed skin, and my heart thunders in my chest. Leaning back, I glance up and down Charlotte’s still fully clothed body, arching an eyebrow.

  “Well, this doesn’t seem too fair, álainn. Don’t you agree?”

  She looks down at her t-shirt and grips the bottom.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mase.” Her playful, teasing voice stirs something inside me, causing my lower stomach to flutter.

  I need her and I need her now.

  “Can you help me understand what you mean?” With hooded eyes, she looks up at me, her hands still holding onto the bottom of her shirt.

  “Why, of course I can, Ms. Kelley.” Placing my hands over hers, she moves them, allowing me to take over. She lifts her arms, straight above her head as I pull off her shirt, tossing it onto the floor behind me. Without stopping, I unbutton her jeans and slide them down her legs.

  It’s different this time. We have more room, more space. It’s as if I’m seeing Charlotte in a new light. If I’m honest, seeing her this open makes me more nervous.

  I don’t think on it long before Charlotte removes her bra and panties for me. Grabbing my hand, she slowly walks backward. I start to follow her but stop when I realize what she’s about to do. Her naked body is standing in front of the bed on the left side of the room.

  “Wait, not that bed.”

  Glancing over her shoulder to look at the bed, she asks, “This one isn’t yours?”

  “No,” I laugh, glancing over my own shoulder and hitch my thumb, pointing to the right side of the room. “Mine’s over there. That one is Sam’s.”

  “Oh.” A smile slowly spreads across her pink, full lips. “That would have been awkward.” Suddenly, as if her nerves have completely dissolved, she gently pushes against my chest, urging me to start walking backward toward my bed.

  I smirk, unwilling to break my eyes away from hers. The back of my knees hitting the edge of the bed, she pushes against my chest once again, a teasing fire buried in her hazel eyes. I follow her lead and sit down.

  Climbing onto my lap, she places a leg on either side of mine, her breasts pushed up against my chest, her hardened nipples lightly grazing my skin.

  “Feckin’ hell, Char.”

  “What?” she asks as she dips her head, pressing her mouth to my neck.

  I lean back, resting my back against the bed, my legs hanging off the side of the bed, my feet still touching the hardwood floor. Straddling me, Charlotte bends down, kissing every inch of my neck and chest.

  “You’re so…” I breathe out. Her teeth graze my skin, and it takes me a moment to remember what I was going to say. “You’re so feckin’ beautiful.”

  Lifting up, she centers over me, then slowly lowers herself down, allowing me to fill her completely. Her hands press into my chest for support, her nails gently digging into my flesh. She closes her eyes when she pulls herself up, then back down, pulling herself into a slow and steady rhythm.

  I rest my head farther into the mattress and slide my hands along her thighs, her skin soft and smooth beneath my palms. It doesn’t take her long to pick up speed, making her movements quicker. She calls out my name as her breaths grow heavier. I sit up, wrapping my arm around her small waist. She’s still moving above me, running her fingers through my still damp hair. I run my tongue along her chest as she tips her head back. My mouth travels over her breast, running my tongue along her flesh and gently bite down. Saying my name one more time, I slightly lift us off the bed, never breaking our connection and turn us around. I lay her back on the bed and hover over her, moving inside her. Her legs wrap around my waist, holding me close. Her head tips back into the mattress, just as mine had only moments ago. Her jaw falls open and her legs tense against me, and I know she’s on the verge of falling apart underneath me. Resting my hand against the side of her face, I hold her head back.

  She breathes out my name, reaching her climax. Her body shudders beneath me, and I keep up with my movements, bringing my lips to her mouth. Dragging my tongue across her damp skin, her sweet taste fills my senses. That’s all it takes for me to follow her, unravelling above her as she keeps her legs wrapped around me.

  Slowly, I lower myself and lie down on the bed next to Charlotte. Her legs are hanging off the bed, but she moves to lay her head against my chest. My heart beat is erratic, and I’m sure it’s thundering against her face, her ear pressed right over my heart. She traces invisible lines across my chest as I run my fingers through her damp hair.

  “Well, that was different, álainn,” I smile and kiss the top of her head.

  “I don’t know,” she laughs against me. “I think it has to do with the space in here. I feel like I can finally be myself without worrying about the bed creaking or hitting my head on a piece of furniture.”

  “What?” I tease. “You didn’t like hitting your head on that dresser?”

  “Stop it, Mase.” She playfully slaps my chest, then shifts her head. I can feel her eyes looking up. “I should have known.”

  Turning my head to the side, following her gaze, I look at the wall.

  “You should have known what?”

  “This was your side of the room. You have a freaking Boondock Saints poster hanging on the wall.”

  “Laugh it up, woman.” I playfully pinch her side, careful not to take the tickling too far. I’m enjoying her body wrapped around mine. She shifts beside me, then looks up, resting her chin against my chest.

  “Where did you get it? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that one before.”

  Sighing, I swallow. I can’t lie.

  “Claire gave it to me when we first started dating.”

  “Oh.” I can sense the sadness in her voice. Although I’m unsure if it’s sadness for me and what Claire did or if it’s the conversation of exes in general.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought her up,
” I say, guilt burrowing itself into my skin.

  “No,” she says, pressing her palm flat against my chest. “I asked. I want you to tell me the truth, Mase, no matter how you think I’d feel hearing it. You had a past with Claire. It makes total sense, so don’t feel you have to hold back for my sake. I’m not some fragile piece of glass.”

  I reach out and tuck a stray hair that’s fallen in front of her face behind her ear. I feel her words worm their way into my throat. I will myself to speak, but the words don’t come.

  She lays her head back down, resting her cheek against my skin. I cup her head with my hand.

  “Kyle used to keep secrets from me all the time,” she whispers. She pauses and the room fills with silence. “Lies are bad, secrets are worse.”

  My heart beat suddenly picks up again, thinking of the secret I’ve kept from her. It’s wrong to keep this from Charlotte, no matter that I promised Sam I wouldn’t. Even if it wasn’t my secret to tell, Charlotte deserves to know. She deserves to know everything, regardless whether or not I believed it mattered anymore.

  I think back to this past week, all the times I was tempted to tell Charlotte about Kyle’s picture. A part of me convinced myself it was because I had made a promise to Sam, or that it wasn’t my place to tell her. But now, with her body lying against me, I know I was only lying to myself. I kept it a secret because I felt like it didn’t really matter. Kyle was a piece of shit, regardless of when he had cheated. Did it really matter he had done it again? Charlotte, in her mind, obviously knew it was over long before the picture was posted, so would it really have made a difference if she knew?

  It wouldn’t to her, but it would to me. If she knew, if I somehow told her, I risked losing her. I couldn’t lose Charlotte. She was different. She had shown me not all women were the same.

  Right now, as Charlotte speaks her truth about Kyle, I can’t help but feel myself being compared to him. I’m keeping a secret from Charlotte, just as Kyle had. I’ll be damned if I’m going to be compared to that pathetic excuse of a man.

  I take a deep breath and run my fingers through Char’s hair one more time.

  “Char?” I whisper.

  “Yeah?” She lifts her head again, resting her chin against my chest.

  She’s so fucking beautiful. The sun shines through the window, highlighting the red streaks hidden beneath her chestnut hair, her hazel eyes reflecting the sun’s rays. I do everything I can to muster up the courage to speak my truth.

  Then I hear it, the sound of that gum on the bottom of my shoe, the lingering pieces ripping away from the pavement, reminding me of the past.

  “I need to tell you something.” Staring into her eyes, I swallow my nerves, knowing this is it. I can do this.

  “Hey, ye eegits! Daddy’s home!” a voice yells from downstairs.

  The moment is suddenly ripped away, losing my chance to tell Charlotte the truth.

  Halfway sitting up, I stare into Charlotte’s widened eyes, a smile spreading across her beautiful mouth.

  “Sounds like Sam’s home.”

  Charlotte

  “DO WE TELL HIM?” I whisper-shout at Mason while I reconnect my bra. Mason is hopping into his jeans and trying to fix his hair like he’s nervous.

  “I was goin’ to leave that up to you,” Mason says, slightly out of breath, pulling on his shirt.

  My body is still humming from having his hands on me. Sex with Mason is so unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, I find it difficult not to jump on him at any given moment. I turn and find my shirt, so I won’t do just that.

  “Maybe I should tell him alone first,” I say, tying my hair back to tame the mangled locks.

  “Hello? Anybody home?” Sam shouts from downstairs, sounding impatient.

  “Shit, hurry up.” I push past Mason who’s pulling on a sock. Why does he need socks?

  I open his door, and right as I’m about to walk downstairs, I feel a tug on my hand. I lurch to a stop, and my heart thunders in my chest. Why am I feeling guilty?

  Because I love Mason.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and turn to face Mason, not ready to accept the truth of those feelings.

  “Can ya just give me a second?” Mason’s face is flushed and determined. It’s as if he’s nervous about seeing Sam as well.

  I nod and swallow my nerves. His large hand wraps around mine, and the warmth calms me. It feels as though with each beat of my thundering heart, it’s screaming I love him, and I need to tell him. But my brain is louder, and it’s demanding I break the news to Sam first and gauge his reaction. Not just so things don’t go poorly between them as brothers, but because Sam is my friend, and I don’t want him to feel torn between his brother and his best friend.

  Right as we’re about to enter the kitchen, I let Mason go to create some distance between us. I purposely don’t glance back to see his face. I need just a second to clear the air with Sam.

  “There you two buggers are.” Sam reaches forward and pulls me into a hug, his mouth full of something he found in the fridge, and his clothes smell musty.

  “You’re back,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder.

  He lets me go and stands back a foot or two.

  “That I am and a good thing too… seems like you two have run off all our guests,” Sam jokes, stepping forward to hug Mason.

  While Sam has his back to me, Mason gives me a ‘What the hell?’ look.

  I know he’s confused why I let his hand go and why I need to act like nothing is happening between us, but Sam and Kyle have been friends forever. He needs the full story.

  “Hey, Sam. Mason was going to run to the store for some dinner stuff. Do you need anything before he leaves?” I pin Mason with a glare, hoping he’ll catch on.

  His firm jaw ticks from how hard he’s clenching it shut. Sam beams and wipes his hands on his already dirty jeans.

  “Yeah, bring me home some Guinness if you love me and some easy grub. I don’t think we need to bother ourselves cooking tonight. I’m dead tired.”

  Mason nods and gives me one last look before he grabs the keys from the hook and walks outside. I try to take a deep breath in and prepare for the conversation.

  “So, how were things with Mase while I was gone?” Sam asks, moving toward the living room. He sits down on a leather chair and leans back.

  I take a seat on the loveseat and pull my feet under me.

  “They were good… really good.” I pull a pretty, white, knitted pillow onto my lap to help with my nerves. Plucking at the soft fabric, I take a deep breath to get some courage.

  “Actually, Sam, I need to tell you something.”

  “Is this about Kyle?” Sam leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. I hate the concern in his tone like he already assumes I’ve betrayed his best friend. Guilt tries to lodge itself in my chest, but I push past it.

  “Why would you assume it was about Kyle?” I draw my eyebrows together in confusion as I let the question sink in. I’m so nervous, I haven’t fully processed why he’d jump immediately to Kyle.

  “I just figured you wanted to talk about it…” Sam’s warm eyes soften with concern, and I find myself relaxing. He must know already. Kyle must have told him about the voicemail.

  “It wasn’t an easy decision, things haven’t been good between us for so long… I just ignored it,” I begin to explain, hugging the small pillow to my chest.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Char… really I am.” Sam’s dark eyebrows draw together in confusion. “But what do you mean it wasn’t an easy decision? I figured it’d be a rather simple one.”

  I stop hugging the soft cushion and watch Sam’s eyes as they transform to dark, murky pools of pity.

  “What do you mean?” I whisper, not sure what he’s referencing. He must be talking about when Kyle cheated. I had no idea Kyle ever told Sam; I know I never shared those details with him.

  Sam runs his hand through his hair and lets out a sigh.

  “I haven’t talked t
o him since I saw the post. I just want you to know that, Char.” He pins me with a firm glare and holds out his hand in a solid gesture before he continues in his thick Irish accent. “If I’d known, there would be no way I would have supported the bastard.”

  I stare at his posture and the look of pity that hasn’t left his face, confusion wiggling into my head. What in the world is going on? What is he talking about? I sit up taller, pulling my legs free, needing all the blood flow to process what’s happening here.

  “Wait.” My voice shakes. “What exactly are you talking about, Sam?”

  Sam’s eyes go back and forth between my own, gauging how honest he should be.

  “I thought maybe you’d seen the picture, and that’s why you were bringing this thing up about needing to talk to me.”

  I shake my head as blood makes its way to my face.

  “I needed to talk to you to tell you I’m falling in love with your brother…”

  Sam freezes, not a single muscle in his face moves. Silence wraps around us as my confession hangs out there like an awkward handshake. I want to rush to explain, to clarify, but I know I need to give him a second to process this.

  “Feck me,” he sighs. “I didn’t expect that.” He stands and places his hands on his hips, tipping his head up to the ceiling as if he’s searching for the right thing to say.

  “I didn’t mean to,” I quickly utter with a small laugh. “He definitely didn’t encourage it… it’s just, being with him… it made me realize I wasn’t really in love with Kyle, not after he cheated last year. I thought I had forgiven him, but maybe I didn’t… not fully. Anyway, I called Kyle and broke up with him,” I explain, lifting my shoulder, hoping it would ease the awkwardness of the situation.

  “Did Kyle answer?” Sam uses the same tone Mason did when we discussed the voicemail dumping.