Presently Perfect (Perfect #3)

by Alison G. Bailey

  Tweet took a step back and turned her head away.

  I grabbed her chin between my thumb and index finger, forcing her gaze up to meet mine. “Don’t you dare look away from me. You’re not going to run this time.” She froze and remained silent. “I’ve tried to stay away from you, to not touch you, and I’ve tried so fucking hard not to fall in love with you.”

  I moved in closer until our chests rubbed together with each heavy breath we took.

  Dropping my face, so that our lips were almost touching, I gritted my teeth and said, “I know you want me in every way. I could tell that night in your room how wet you were through your pajamas. You were so ready for me to slide into you. All I did was kiss your stomach and you almost came right in my arms… didn’t you?”

  Deafening silence.

  “Didn’t you?!” I yelled, causing her body to jerk.

  She inhaled a ragged breath and simply nodded.

  Stepping back, I shook my head and chuckled humorlessly. “You always said I deserved better than you. Maybe you really thought it was you who deserved better than me. You always have to have everything so fucking perfect. Nothing is ever good enough. I’m not good enough.”

  “That’s not true! You are perfect. I’m the loser. You deserve perfect.”

  “And you think Brooke is perfect for me?”

  “I don’t know. I just know that I’m not.”

  “Shut the fuck up! I’m tired of hearing you say that. All these years I hated how you looked at yourself. I know you think everyone is constantly comparing you to perfect Emily.” I looked at Tweet through blurry eyes as I choked back a sob. “I never have and I never wanted to. I put up with you pushing me away, convincing myself that all you needed was some time. If I kept telling you how incredible you were and how much I loved you, one day you’d believe it, and stop all this bullshit. You’re not a loser, Tweet. You’re a coward, because you’re throwing away the chance to be with the person who wants to spend the rest of his life loving you and telling you how perfect you really are.”

  “Please don’t hate me. Once you calm down and have a chance to think clearly you’ll see this is for the best right now.” Her voice quivered, the words barely making it out.

  I stood looking down at the ground in silence. My body was rigid, my hands rested on my hips, fingers clawing into my skin. I blew out heavy breaths as I held on to the tension in my body. If I let it go, I’d collapse. I couldn’t believe she was doing this.

  You fucking promised you wouldn’t leave me.

  The first tear splashed to the ground. Tremor after tremor coursed through my body. A second tear fell from my eye. I was not going to crumble in front of this girl. A third tear dripped, followed by a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, a seventh… until a steady stream gushed out of me.

  Lifting my head slightly, I saw her out of the corner of my eye. She was still standing in the same spot. For the first time in my life, I wanted and needed to put some distance between me and my best friend. She had lost the privilege of seeing her effect on me.

  “Get the fuck away from me.” My voice was low and controlled.

  “Noah…”

  My head shot up, light blue eyes pierced teal ones. Her face was coated in tears, her body shaking uncontrollably. I felt the life drain from my face. She gasped, cupping her hand over her mouth.

  In a slow, clear, and determined cadence, I ordered, “Get. The fuck. Away. From me. Now.”

  She hesitated for a moment before stepping away. I stared straight ahead as she brushed past me. The crunch of the gravel diminished as the love of my life disappeared across the park and into the darkness. With each step she took, my heart slammed harder against my chest until it completely shattered.

  My gaze moved toward the table, our table. The blood that had drained from my body was replaced by pure adrenaline. All my systems went into overdrive—my breathing, my pulse, my temperature—all shot up to an explosive level.

  I kicked at the table a few times before ramming my fist into it. The more I brutalized the piece of wood, the more my anger was fueled. Growls and grunts flew out of me along with incoherent and incomplete sentences.

  “Mother fucking… selfish… bit…!”

  I stumbled back. Drawing in several deep breaths, I tried to get some control of myself. There had to be another reason why Tweet did this to me now. I attempted to piece together some logical thoughts, but nothing made sense. I was fed up with trying to figure out her actions. What kind of a person abandons her best friend at the lowest point in his life?

  Looking back at the table another wave of rage flooded my body. I stepped forward and grabbed the edges. Inhaling a huge breath, I flipped the table over.

  “Goddamn her!”

  I pounded one of the wooden legs with my foot until it finally broke off. Grabbing it, I used the last of my energy to throw it full throttle in the direction of the pond. Exhaustion took over, my knees buckled and gave way, causing me to collapse to the ground. Tears and sweat soaked my clothes and hair.

  Robotically, I walked back to my house. I rounded the corner of the family room, heading to my room when my mom’s voice broke through my haze.

  “My god, Noah. What have you been up to?”

  “I went for a run,” I answered flatly.

  “Blah, blah, blah,” she said as I continued my nonstop trek toward the bathroom.

  I can’t be there for Mom right now. Please don’t be disappointed in me too much, Dad.

  I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the shower. Hot water poured down my back as the room filled with steam. Placing my palms flat against the tile wall, I dropped my head down, letting it hang between my arms. I was numb from the inside out. As I focused on nothing, wanting my mind to stay blank, the pain slowly sliced through the numbness. Once the first cut was made, it took only seconds for it to rip me apart. I felt lightheaded. My legs shook, barely able to hold my weight. My stomach, followed by my heart, plummeted, as my body seized out of control. The bottom dropped out and the pain overpowered me.

  I squinted my eyes, staring at the door in confusion. I couldn’t remember driving over here. I tossed and turned in my bed for an hour after I had gotten out of the shower. I was physically drained, but my brain wouldn’t shut off. Thoughts of her flashed through my head—the shy smile, the teal eyes, the soft curves, the laughs and dreams shared. Just when I allowed myself to enjoy how the memories felt, the picture of her walking away from me shot through my consciousness, the pain invading every corner of my body. Finally, I bolted out of bed, threw on a black T-shirt and gray cargo shorts, slipped on my black Nikes, and then jumped in my truck.

  Raising my hand, I knocked on the front door. A light shined from behind the etched glass inset of the dark wood. The door swung open. Her eyes lit up and a smile broke out across her pale pink lips. She was dressed for bed in a white tank top and red shorts covered with white polka dots. Her hair fell down over her shoulders. She looked like an angel, with the light bouncing off the soft blond curls.

  “Are you alone?” My voice was scratchy and hoarse.

  “Yeah. Dad is on a business trip and Mom went with him.”

  Brooke stepped back, opening the door wider for me to walk through.

  I stood in the entryway as the door clicked shut behind me.

  Brooke’s hand landed on the back of my shoulder. As she circled around to stand in front of me, she let her hand slide down my arm and meet up with mine.

  Looking up through long blond lashes, she asked, “Are you okay?” My gaze dropped to hers. A slight chuckle drifted from her as she rolled her eyes. “God that was a stupid question. Your dad just died.” Another chuckle paired with a smile appeared.

  “Let’s go to your room,” I mumbled.

  “What?”

  I jerked my hand away, cupped the sides of her face, shut my eyes, and crashed my lips into hers. Brooke clung to my biceps as I backed her up toward the bedroom. Stopping abruptly, her fingers curled around
my wrists, pulling my hands away from her face.

  “What’s gotten into you, Noah?” She gasped for air.

  “Isn’t this what you’ve been wanting?”

  “Yes, but why now? Did something happen to change your mind?”

  “No. I just wanted to kick the summer off with a bang.” I smirked at my lame joke.

  Without another word, Brooke took my hand and led me into her bedroom.

  I hadn’t been in Brooke’s room before. I’m not sure what I expected, but it definitely wasn’t the pink nightmare I had just walked into. At first I thought she had made a mistake and taken me into her younger sister’s room, but then I remembered Brooke didn’t have a younger sister.

  The walls were covered in Pepto-Bismol pink that made me queasy. The bookshelf was pale pink and lined with a few books, some framed pictures of Brooke throughout the years, and a collection of stuffed animals. Bears, cats, lambs, unicorns, horses, all stared at me. In one corner sat a white desk and chair with a bright pink lamp and more stuffed animals, only these were miniature. The blanket covering the bed looked like a pink Muppet had been killed and skinned for Brooke’s warmth and comfort. To top off the pink nightmare, hanging over the bed was a chandelier decorated with white pearls and crystal beads. Four small lamps with pink shades surrounded the fixture. The bottom edges of the shades were wrapped in pink fluffy feathery material. No doubt another Muppet sacrificing its life for Brooke’s decorative desires.

  A sexy smile crossed her face as she walked back toward her bed. I concentrated on the movement of her body, working hard to ignore the Muppet carnage that surrounded me. Brooke’s fingers hooked under the hem of her tank top. I mimicked her by grabbing the bottom of my own shirt. We stared for several seconds, challenging each other to be the first to strip. My hesitation was confusing. I needed to move on with Brooke. There was no reason not to. She cared about me. She loved me. She looked good on paper.

  Finally, I hiked my shirt over my head and let it drop to the floor. Brooke lifted her shirt, torturing me with a slow striptease. Her tits bounced slightly as they were released from the shirt. Brooke’s body was hot. She was tall and thin, not curvy like…

  You’re about to fuck your girlfriend. Do not think or compare her to “the other one.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for, No-No?”

  What was I waiting for?

  To feel something.

  Once I touched her I was sure I’d start responding to the hot half-naked blonde looking at me with big blue eyes full of lust. I walked over to her, grabbed her hips, pulling her into me. Her hands shot to the back of my head. Tangling her fingers through my hair, she tugged, bringing my lips down to hers. My eyes closed as I slid my tongue between Brooke’s soft lips. The deeper she allowed me inside her mouth, the more my fingers dug into her hips. My dick finally woke up as I pressed it against her. Several moans rumbled out of her, each one louder than the last.

  I moved her toward the bed until the back of her knees hit the edge. We tumbled down on top of the pink fur almost knocking a large yellow stuffed duck to the floor.

  Brooke reached for the duck. “Watch out for Mr. Puddles.”

  Hovering over her, I said, “You name your stuffed animals?”

  “Not all of them silly, just the special ones. And Mr. Puddles is very special.” Bringing the fake fowl up to her face, she puckered her lips, kissing its felt bill. “Aren’t you?”

  As she gently sat Mr. Puddles to the side, I shook my head trying to clear it of what I had just witnessed. I began a trail of wet kisses across her jaw, and down her neck until I reached her chest. The entire time that fucking duck watched me. I ran my tongue across one stiff nipple before closing my lips around it and sucking it hard. Brooke’s nails buried deeper into my head. Her hips rocked against me accompanied by a high-pitched squeal.

  “Oh god, No-No! I love you!” she yelled out.

  Her body, her movements, her moans, her voice all should have urged me on. Instead, they had the opposite effect. I stilled, dropping my forehead against her chest. I couldn’t do this to her. Passing the time with Brooke waiting on Tweet to come to her senses was already bordering on using Brooke. I couldn’t be with Brooke like this until I knew for sure that she’d be the one I was having sex with and not just a stand-in.

  Scrunching up my face, I inhaled a deep breath, and slid off of her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I saw out the corner of my eye Brooke propping herself up on her elbows. I took a quick glance at her. Her eyes fluttered, growing bigger and more confused with each blink.

  I hung my head and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  “What’s wrong?” There was a slight catch in her voice.

  I turned toward her and our eyes locked. “I gotta go. I’m sorry.”

  I bolted off the bed, snatching my shirt from the floor as I rushed out of Brooke’s bedroom.

  Twisting in the passenger side of my truck, she faced me. Her eyes lit up with excitement. “This trip is going to be awesome.”

  Brooke had been invited to her friend, Rachel’s, bachelorette party this weekend. Rachel lived in Columbia, South Carolina—the state capital, where the famous Five Points shopping district was located, and home of the fighting Gamecocks of USC. Travis was in his sophomore year at the university and had been begging me for months to come hang out for the weekend. Since I didn’t like the idea of Brooke traveling alone, this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

  The guilt I felt after running out of Brooke’s bedroom was relentless. Because of it, I made more of an effort to be an actual boyfriend. I explained to her that I hadn’t been thinking straight that night. That the emotions of the week had me out of sorts. Our first time needed to be special and I wanted a clear head for when that time came. She said she understood and that it was okay. She never asked if Tweet had anything to do with my behavior. In fact, she hadn’t mentioned Tweet since the funeral, nor had she commented about us heading straight into Tweet territory this weekend. Brooke wasn’t an insecure girl. Confidence oozed out of each pore. She was, however, the suspicious type, but apparently, the increased attention I was giving her had helped relax her suspicions.

  Placing her hand on my thigh, she said, “Are you excited?”

  I glanced over with a smirk. “Yeah. It will be great to hang out with Travis.”

  It was the weekend before Thanksgiving, six months since Dad had died and I had any contact with Tweet. My life was split into two time dimensions. In the first one, days and months flew by at lightning speed. Mom and I missed Dad every day and it was hard to believe months had passed since we last saw him. But we were moving forward, focusing less on the painful memories and more on all the great times we shared with him. The second dimension was the Tweet time warp.

  Tweet-time dragged on so slowly that it felt like it never budged. Each day we were apart the hole in my life expanded. I tried to stay angry at her. I wanted to stay angry at her. She deserved for me to stay angry at her. And I was angry at her… for about a week. As the days leading up to our break up replayed in my head, I understood why she did what she did.

  Until Dad’s death Tweet and I had managed to stay within the boundaries she had set for our friendship. It was a struggle, but we maintained the friend zone pretty well. When Dad died, our instincts kicked in. I turned to her and she was there for me. One hug became two, two became three, and three became four, etcetera. Our gaze lingered, our hands squeezed harder, and the innocent kisses on the cheek moved closer to the corners of the mouth. And then there were the two times we almost let nature take its course. It was obvious that neither one of us had a lot of self-control when the other was involved. Before we knew it the line blurred even more than before. She tried to get us back on track, even though it was a shitty way to go about it.

  Brooke unbuckled her seatbelt and scooted closer to me. Her hand slid to my inner thigh while she placed light kisses up and down my neck.

  Sucking in a quick breath, I shrugged. “
We’re gonna crash if you keep that up.”

  Her chin rested on my shoulder. “How about we get a hotel room for the night?”

  “I thought all the girls were staying at Rachel’s place.”

  Brooke may not have questioned me anymore about that night in her room, but she kept dropping not so subtle hints about us having sex. I really cared for Brooke, but every time I closed my eyes I still saw Tweet.

  “They are, but I don’t have to.”

  “You’ll probably be out late, though,” I countered.

  She moved back to her side of the truck, buckled her seatbelt, and stared straight ahead. Something was going to have to give soon. My girlfriend wanted to have sex and I was running out of plausible excuses to hold off.

  I reached over, placing my hand on top of hers. “We’ll have our time. I just don’t want to fit it in during a busy weekend.”

  I squeezed her hand slightly. When her head turned in my direction, I held her gaze for a brief second and gave her a smile. She flipped her hand over, pushing her fingers between mine… and held on tight.

  “I know… it’s just with us both living at home and being busy with classes… we don’t have a lot of chances to be alone for any length of time. It’s frustrating, Noah. I love you and I want to show you how much.”

  That was another thing I was going to have to deal with soon… those three words that Brooke liked to say… often. I found it weird that she never got upset when I didn’t return them. She always went along with my subject change, never showing one sign of being hurt. The I love yous continued to flow out of her mouth regularly, like she had them scheduled in two-hour increments.

  “Don’t worry. You show me all the time how you feel. Those cookies you made me last week were tasty.”

  “I have something else that you might enjoy tasting.” The fingertips of her free hand skimmed the length of my arm, causing a shiver to run through my body.

  “Did you bring brownies?” I teased, needing to lighten the mood.