by S. E. Hall
"Hello, Brady," I grind out as civilly as possible, aggravated at his stubbornness.
"Moe." He gives a curt nod.
Dylan's watching back and forth like a Ping-Pong match, understandably confused. "The hell? Ya'll have a fight?"
Brady cocks one brow my way, challenging me to answer. Not biting. "No, of course not." I smile at Dyl. "Anyway, this is your day. So tell us all about things."
Don't have to ask him twice; he instantly starts gushing out all that's been happening as I hold my enthusiastic smile firmly in place, trying to keep up and stay focused, while kicking Brady under the table. He looks my way only once and I stick out my tongue, face twisted up like a slapstick comic seeking a laugh. I don't get one and when I kick my foot out again its only air I hit; he's moved his leg, and worse, he's scooting his chair over.
Thankfully, Ruby's is a sandwich shop, so we're able to order and be served quickly, the atmosphere slightly more amicable, but still "off" despite my attempts to lighten his mood. Brady wasn't this quiet when he had laryngitis two years ago, and if he doesn't stop dampening Dylan's parade with his pouting, I will throw this pickle at him.
"So you'll both come, right?"
"What?" I ask, having zoned out on the last part of Dylan's speech.
His head cranes my way. "My launch party. It's this Friday night. You'll be there?"
"Of course I will." I pat his jittery hand. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. Just let me know when and where. Did I mention how proud of you I am?"
"Shucks, ma'am," he jests with a wave of his hand. "Oh and it's formal, so gown and tux," he speaks between us both. "And bring dates. The more the merrier. I want a big crowd there."
I struggle to temper my expression—formal and a date, not what I'd expect from my brother.
"You got it. No worries," Brady says directly to Dylan. His voice cuts through me, sparking the flame Dr. Reynolds had been managing.
We're mercifully saved from further "surprises" by Dylan's phone, but the bomb's already dropped...gown and date.
"Sorry guys, but I need to go. See you Friday?" My brother leans down and kisses my cheek, hardly waiting for our answers before he's out the door.
I jump up, busying myself with throwing away our trash, ready to rush out as well. But as I turn I'm immediately pinned by a brooding, menacing Brady hovering in my space.
"Be my date for Dylan's party, Moe. Me and you, please. I miss us."
"Do you?" I scoff, shoving against his chest, not budging him whatsoever. "Could've fooled me! What's with the doom and gloom pouting then? You could have gotten up and hugged me, called me, anything! Didn't seem like you missed us? Which, P.S., is exactly the reason I said no to more in the first place!"
"Well excuse the fuck outa me! It's not easy to figure out the rules—your rules! I could have sworn there was something real here, Moe, so I put myself out there and you basically shot me down, right through the heart! P.S. maybe I can't snap back into 'just friends' mode like you can. Maybe I wanna sit beside you and caress your back or—ahh!" He mocks a gasp. "Maybe I want to hold your little hand, no matter where we are or who's watching." His tone drops along with his face, anger suddenly morphed into hurt. "I just…I could've sworn you thought Brady and Moe was something different now too."
Lowering my head on a sigh, I fight the anguished quivering in my chin. I never want to see him hurt and I never meant to cause it. "Listen, Brady, you're my best friend and I miss you desperately but I've got something—" I stop, not wanting to delve into things in the middle of Ruby's.
"Be. My. Date," he growls lowly in my face.
My head's shaking before I refuse verbally and he's once again already sulking out, nearly ripping the door off when he shoves it open. I hate myself in this moment. My head falls back against the wall, my arms wrapping around myself, wanting to hide from the world. I don't even notice the tears until a voice asks, "You okay, Miss?"
I look up to find a waitress staring at me with nothing but pity. With an irate huff, I push off the wall. "Golden."
It's me that's busting out their door next, ready to crawl back in bed and end this damn day.
A dress? You'd think that'd be simple enough to find, except I've been to half the shops in town and found not one. It isn't helping that the event is tomorrow, and after spending the last few days going from work to home and straight to bed, I'm quickly running out of time and options.
Maybe I'm depressed, which seems ridiculous to me because only a few days earlier I was damn near giddy with the hand I'd been dealt—deliciously erotic doctor appointments—and now… Now everything is as fucked up as my dress hunt.
I need something that reflects the love and pride I have for Dylan. I'm standing in the last shop in town, begging the universe to show some mercy, when it does just that. I snatch the dress from the rack with a triumphant smile. It has a babydoll-style skirt, corseted waist, and plunging neckline in a gorgeous off-white with just a hint of silver highlighted throughout. It's even more gorgeous when I see the price tag; I can afford new heels to match.
I head straight to the dressing room hoping it looks as good on me as it does the hanger when I hear my name.
"Addison?"
I turn toward the unfamiliar voice and see the brainy beauty, aka Brady's last date, standing with a long gown in hand. Crap, what's her name?
"Hi." I grin a bit too much hoping it will cover the nameless slip.
"You don't remember me?" She laughs softly, almost like music. No wonder Brady asked her out.
"No, I do! Brady brought you to dinner," I say quickly, then confess. "Sorry, I'm horrible with names. It's nothing personal."
"It's Ashley and don't worry about it, I forget all the time."
"Right, sorry, but you remembered mine, which means you're just being polite right now or I left a memorable impression." I pale as the words fall out, remembering why she'd have a lasting impression of me after my abrupt exit that night. "Look, sorry I up and left during the dinner, it's just…"
"You don't have to explain. And the reason I remember you so well is because Brady talks about you often. You two seem like close friends."
My shoulders drop. "Yeah." It's barely a whisper.
"Love the dress. It's gorgeous. I almost grabbed it for myself." She nudges her head at my hands gripping the fabric.
"Thanks, you found a good choice…classic black." The dress draped over her arm is long and screams graceful and timeless. "What's the occasion?"
"I'm guessing same as you. Dylan's party tomorrow night."
It's a surreal moment, the kind where the air is ripped painfully from your lungs and you don't know whether to laugh or cry. With a spinning head and failing knees, I could swear an earthquake is pulsing under my feet.
She's going to the party, which means Brady found a date. I retreat into the dressing room before I lose my sense in front of her and say something I'll regret. They'll look good together. Brady in a tux, her corralled in his arms…I can't stomach the thought.
"Well, I guess I'll see you there," I say in an awkward huff, then quickly shut the dressing room door.
"Okay, yeah, bye," I hear her say but I'm already squatted down on the floor, face in my hands, trying to block out the assaulting images of her and Brady together.
He deserves to be happy, I remind myself. I have to let him go, let him take the time he needs to be angry at me. Eventually he'll see that "we" are too important to risk on a tryst. There can never be more, despite the flicker of hope and tearful musings of how extraordinary "more" would probably be warming my chest.
Chapter 15
I'm late. Only by five minutes or so, but still late to the most important night of my brother's life. Guilt eats at me yet does little to quicken my pace.
My excuse, in case he notices, is still being debated. Traffic is always a safe bet but in reality the only thing to blame is my own selfish procrastination.
I dragged ass from the moment I got off work. I w
atched a little television, painted my nails only to remove it and repaint them a different color, and then finally hauled myself into the bathroom to get ready an hour before the event began.
So here I am, stepping into a grand hotel in the center of town, reluctant to pass through the double doors leading to the ballroom.
And no, my tardiness has nothing to do with the fact that I know I'll find a gorgeous Brady on the other side, charming the room with a flawless date wrapped around his arm.
Nope, nothing at all.
I hope he is in there; happy, carefree, wearing his usual smug grin, back to his old self. Truly.
I check my coat and square my shoulders, ready to do nothing but celebrate my brother's accomplishment. He has a lot of work to do to the get the business off the ground, but tonight it's official, he's putting the pieces together to bring it to life.
Seems lots of things are changing.
A waiter greets me, handing me a glass of champagne, then steps aside, revealing the room awaiting me.
The quick chug I take of the liquid bravado nearly sputters out as I take in the insanely stunning scenery, decorated in white linens and Dylan's black "Game On!" logo. The atmosphere leaves me breathless. Never would I have thought it could look so chic. Dylan knows games, but throwing a party? He must've found an incredible planner.
Time to go find my big bro and remind him just how amazing he is.
Once I'm fully immersed in the room, I spot Dylan near the band and my face splits into a wide grin. Eager to get to his side where I plan to remain all night, I weave through the crowd of mingling guests, but as I draw closer, my feet trip me up in an abrupt stop. Dylan's in deep conversation with not just two studious men whom I've never seen before, but also Ashley, who's looking as beautiful as I knew she would.
Brady's not with them, but he can't be far. He wouldn't leave his date alone with all these men, not with the way she fills out that dress. I snatch another glass of champagne from a passing tray and gulp.
Feeling out of place, I move back, unsure if I should wait until she leaves his side or go say hi now. It's silly and ridiculous. He's my brother, but still, I don't want Dylan to see any awkwardness tonight.
Deciding I'll bide my time before I say hello, I stand there alone and unnatural, wishing I had brought a date. As I try to block out my solo status, a current of electricity sizzles down the back of my neck. I don't need to turn around to know he's here. He's close. I can feel him behind me, my body hyperaware of him tonight.
I wait, expecting him to speak or step around me to say hello when I feel his breath hit the back of my ear, caressing it. Damn him. Friends! Friends!
And then he surprises me yet again when he slips past me, his arm brushing mine as strides smoothly over to his date waiting beside Dylan. She welcomes him over with a sweet smile.
Brady doesn't look at me once he's there in the small group, laughing and chatting it up, so I decide to make the most of my night and walk up to the first guy I see standing alone.
"Hi," I say cheerfully. "I'm Addison Porter, Dylan's sister. Nice to meet you."
The guy looks to be around Dylan and Brady's age; not as built, but cute. His hair is dark and neatly trimmed, no facial hair and dull brown eyes but still…cute.
He gives me a noticeable once over before his lips curl up and he takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Pleasure. I'm Cole. Friends with Dylan for a few years now. Good guy."
Dylan has very few friends and none I've never meant unless he means… "Online gaming friends?" I ask, curious.
He nods with a hint of embarrassment in his smile. "Yeah, I know it's not the sexiest thing. Most girls hate guys that game, but it's in my blood. I flew out tonight to show my support."
"Addison." I look up to see my brother and Brady walking over, Brady's eyes hard and zoomed in on Cole.
What provokes me, I haven't a clue, but I tug my lip between my teeth and lean in and whisper to Cole, "I think it's kind of sexy."
"What's sexy?" Dylan asks, standing beside me now.
"Uh, nothing. Hey, sorry I didn't come over yet, I just got here and you looked busy." I give him a quick hug. "I love you. I can't tell you how impressed I am. And how—"
"Proud you are," he finishes for me with a chuckle as he releases me. "I know and I've been hearing it all night from Mom and Dad too, who are looking for you, by the way."
"Cole!" Dylan turns his attention to his cyber buddy, leaving me and Brady standing beside each other.
I steal an uncomfortable glance his way just as Ashley appears at his side.
"Gotta say, never would have believed it if I wasn't seeing it." Cole laughs, slapping Dylan on the back. "You, of all people, about to run a business."
"My brother's one of the best gamers out there," I defend him instantly, earning me a bashful look from Dylan.
Cole drinks me in. "No doubt about that. But this party—I wasn't expecting it to be so formal, so put together," he clarifies.
"Oh." I slink back, lowering my head. "Yeah, it's gorgeous."
"Can't take the credit for that. It was all Ashley over here." Dylan nudges his head her way.
Of course she put the party together, she's superwoman, after all.
Ashley takes the compliment with easy poise then excuses herself to the ladies' room. Dylan retreats a moment later to go mingle, leaving Brady and Cole standing around me.
One peek at each of them confirms that the "sizing up the competition" thing men do is in play, which is absolutely ridiculous.
"Ashley looks beautiful tonight," I say to Brady.
His brows pinch. "She does."
Cole moves closer to me. "Lucky man. How long have you and her been together?" he asks Brady.
Yeah, Brady? How long? Has he been stringing her along this whole time? My temper peeks at the unpleasant pang of jealousy that flares.
"We're—"
I can't bear to hear his answer so I cut in. "She's good for you. I like her."
His eyes darken at my words then narrow a moment later when Cole's hand slides around my waist. I don't push him away, instead allowing the touch from a total stranger.
Cole pulls me closer. "You wanna dance?"
My eyes on Brady, I'm conflicted on how to answer. I don't want to hurt my best friend, but he's here with someone else, which means whatever he felt for me obviously wasn't that strong. Our friendship will rebound and maybe seeing me with someone else will help put things back into perspective for him. I'm not his.
"You should probably go check on Ashley," I say over the music, "in case she needs your help or something. I'm good here."
I don't give him a chance to reply. Cole takes my hand and leads me out onto the dance floor where he wraps his arms around my back, holding me close.
Leave it to Brady to deal with things in a mature, classy manner.
Or not.
Apparently Ashley rebuffed his plans or wasn't fast enough in the ladies' room, so he's now latched and I do mean latched, on to the tackiest bimbo in the room. Rolling my eyes and pulling Cole closer against my body, I try not to steal glances over his shoulder at Brady's antics, but sometimes, like a car wreck, you just have to look.
And when I do, his mouth may be on her neck, his hands groping her ass in true porn fashion, but his eyes…they're on me. Hard, determined, and challenging, he glares my way but why I'm—for once—not sure.
Is he begging me to pull him off her or outdo his brazenness with my current partner?
Is he pissed off?
I can't pull my eyes away despite Cole's whispering in my ear, which is incoherent since my brain is busily processing the sight that's crippling me with emotions I can't squash.
As Brady's fingers tighten and knead her tiny ass, he rolls his hips, pressing his pelvis into her—I have my answer. My brows raise, telling him I won't back down.
Challenge accepted!
My hand slips down from Cole's shoulder and grips the hem of my dress, hitching i
t up just enough to slide my leg higher up Cole's hip. I dip my head back, my chest pushing forward, and giggle at nothing, praying Brady can hear it above the music.
A deep, low growl escaping Cole freezes me in place and I fight from recoiling at the thick length hardening against my stomach.
"So fine," he whispers.
I place my hands tighter against his shoulders and pull myself back into our previous, normal dancing position. That should be enough to show Brady two can play that game.
Ashamed for involving Cole, I give him a sweet smile then chance a peek to assess Brady's reaction and the saying holds true—play with fire and you will get burned.
Which I am, scorching from head to toe in a blaze of excruciating fury as I watch Brady dip the hussy and feed feverishly at her mouth. When he pulls her back up and links his fingers with hers, the motherfucker winks at me while he whispers in her ear, then, to my horror, leads her off the dance floor.
I'm frozen in agony, each of their steps leading to the double doors where their sordid tryst awaits sending a splinter of jealous agony through me till my gut is twisted beyond repair, about to explode.
"Mmm, come back here," Cole grunts in my ear.
I robotically push him away, eyes still on that damn door. Brady turns back once and catches my stare, a passing flash of I can't decipher what it is on his face before he turns and continues his exit…officially taking what I thought was a bratty game of torment way too far.
"Mind if I cut in?" my father asks, appearing out of nowhere.
Cole looks to me with guarded restraint. I've definitely led him on tonight, but the fury flooding my veins keeps me from feeling the depths of the guilt. I'll simply add it to my recent list of sins as I never plan to see the man again.
"Of course not, Dad." I force a smile his way then press myself closer to Cole for a brief hug and whisper, "Thanks for the dance." I place a chaste kiss to his cheek then turn and take my father's hand.
Cole leaves the dance floor, seemingly satisfied, after throwing me a subtle wave. It eases a tinge of the rage I have when I glance at the door again.