by A. S. Teague
Behind me, Breccan asks, “Wait a minute. What’s going on?”
The humiliation of him not remembering me from the club when I haven’t forgotten a single detail of the night comes bubbling back up.
Whirling back around, I yell, “I don’t know why I thought that this was going anywhere! After all, you are the guy who doesn’t even remember meeting me!” My face heats, and I shove him roughly in an attempt to get to the front door.
He doesn’t even budge. “What the hell are you talking about?” His incredulous tone matches mine, and he remains rooted in front of me, blocking my exit. “I remember meeting you. You fell down the stairs. I helped you up. Maybe you bumped your head and it’s you who doesn’t remember.”
I was violently shaking my head the entire time he’s speaking. “No. That’s not the first time we met. I met you in a club almost a month before that.”
His brow furrows. “I think you’re mistaken. I…I would’ve remembered you,” he insists.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Obviously not. It was my birthday. We were at Club Raw. I was crawling around on the disgusting floor, looking for an outlet to plug my dead cell phone into.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “Holy shit. I knew I met someone that night.”
“Yeah. Breccan, you met me. And we hit it off. Until you lost your fucking mind!”
“You’re the chick who got me kicked out.”
My head snaps back, “I did not! You got yourself kicked out for punching one of my coworkers!”
I can’t believe he remembers the events of the night but not me. The anger that was already tingling in my bones morphs into soul-crushing pain. I am nothing more than a chick he met at a club. I’m not sure why I thought I would be any more special than the women he usually dates, and I’m mortified as I remember that, just a few minutes ago, I was planning Christmas dinner with him.
This time when I shove past him, he doesn’t try to stop me. I get to the front door and pause, pivoting back toward him. He’s still standing in the same spot, staring at me.
“Ahem.” I fake clearing my throat.
He focuses on my face.
“I’m sorry I assumed we were something we are obviously not. I need to go home I think. Give you some space.”
He takes a step in my direction, but he stops when I hold up a hand.
“Aw, come on, Sid. This isn’t a big deal. There’s no reason for you to leave.”
His dismissal of what just happened makes my gut to twist even more. It may not be a big deal to him, but it is to me. It dawns on me that, whatever I thought this was between us, I was wrong about it.
“This is obviously not going to work, Breccan. I think we’re on two totally different pages.”
I need space to figure out where I want to go from here. I’m not even sure if there’s anywhere left to go. Or if Breccan wants to go there with me. But I can’t think while he’s standing in front of me.
He again shakes his head, but he makes no move. The fact that he doesn’t try to stop me when I pull open the front door tells me everything I need to know.
This is not the ending I envisioned for tonight.
Waiting on the elevator, I fight back tears while praying that he comes after me. When the doors open, I step in, still clinging to a shred of hope that his front door will fly open and he’ll demand I stay. Without humor, I laugh at my naïve thoughts.
This isn’t a fucking romance novel, Sid. He’s not coming after you.
A single tear slides down my cheek as the elevator doors close and my heart splinters into a thousand pieces.
Standing in the middle of my apartment, I look around.
What the fuck just happened?
Not even ten minutes ago, I was in the shower, thinking about all the ways I was going to make Sidney come after dinner, and now, I’m staring at the door she just walked out of without so much as looking back.
Shaking my head to clear it, I amble over to peer out the peephole. I’m a chickenshit, but I don’t expect to see her standing in the hallway. Yet I’m still disappointed when I discover that it’s empty. Leaning my forehead against the cool wood, I try to figure out exactly what went wrong.
Yeah, I was a little surprised when she turned around, holding those fucking worthless test results, but not because she had gone through my stuff like she’d thought.
No, I was pissed because I am never good enough.
It didn’t matter that I made good grades when I was in school. The trouble I got into trumped the grades.
It didn’t matter that I’d won every fucking fight I’d ever had. My career choice was an embarrassment to the prestigious family name.
It didn’t matter that I always spent every holiday with my stuck-up parents when I would have rather been anywhere but sitting at their outlandish dinner table, being scrutinized. I would never measure up to their ridiculously high standards.
And, now, I can’t even help Connor out. It doesn’t matter that I would have given him both of my kidneys if he needed them. I’m not a match. Which means I’m not fucking good enough.
And then she called herself my girlfriend.
It freaked me out. It’s laughable, but I’ve never had a girlfriend. I have no idea what having one even consists of. Am I supposed to take her out to dinners and movies now? Long walks on the beach? Secret picnics and stolen moments?
I am an amazing fighter because I’ve spent years figuring out what to expect in every possible situation.
Every hold.
Every move.
Every angle.
But I never expected Sidney.
I went to a sick kid’s house and got slapped in the face by nothing I’ve ever wanted.
And, somehow, everything I’ve ever needed.
I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, but the words had slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Fear.
The one thing that could paralyze even bigger men than me.
But the worst part of all was when she told me that she was the girl from the club.
I knew I’d met someone that night. And, after her little refresher, things became more clear. I remember snippets of our conversation and her making me laugh. I remember thinking that she was different. I remember letting her use my phone.
But, most of all, I remember the way I felt when I was with her.
It was the same rush I feel every time she so much as sends me a text message.
But I couldn’t put a face or a name with the memories until Sidney threw it in my face. The hurt in her voice when she realized I didn’t recognize her was agonizing.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I shove away from the door and make my way to the kitchen. Sitting untouched on the stove is the dinner that looks like it was going to be amazing.
Rage bubbles up, and before I can stop myself, I throw anything I can get my hands on—dishes, pots, even the cup half full of wine wasn’t safe from my wrath. Once I am done destroying the kitchen, I jerk the refrigerator door open and take a beer out. After warring with myself, I open the bottle instead of throwing it against the wall.
After taking a long pull, I send a message to Tripp and Rebecca.
Me: Yo, I’m going out. Get dressed and meet me at Raw in half an hour.
Reb: What?!?! I thought you were on a date???
Tripp: Dude, I’m in bed.
I glance at the time: 9:15 pm.
Me: You pussy. Get dressed.
Reb: Brec, what happened with Sidney?
Me: We had a fight, she left, I’m going out. You coming or not?
I’m not in the mood to talk about why Sidney isn’t here anymore. What I am in the mood for is a drink and temporary amnesia. I just want to fucking drink this shitty night away. If they come, great, but if not, I’m fine getting drunk by myself. Wouldn’t be the first time. But I refuse to sit in this fucking apartment for a minute longer. I should be in bed right now, making Sidney scream my name, not staring at th
e food she made as it drips down the walls.
My phone vibrates out of control, and I pick it back up.
Reb: Do you really need to go out tonight?
Tripp: He never needs to go out.
Reb: This is true. Brec? Where’d you go?
Tripp: Fine, dude. I’m getting up. I’ll meet you there.
Reb: Tripp, pick me up, I’m ready now. Brec - where are you?
Tripp: 10-4.
Reb: Dammit, Breccan!
I smile at her concern.
Me: See ya soon.
I can always count on them, no matter the hour. It doesn’t make a difference how much shit I give Tripp. He’s always the first to come to my defense and the last to leave my side. I feel a pang of guilt when I think about how often I treat him badly. He deserves a better best friend than my sorry ass.
Yet another thing I don’t wanna think about tonight.
I shove the phone in my pocket and then snatch the keys to Velma off the counter and then one last look around. It looks like a tornado swept through, and I make a mental note to call the cleaning lady in the morning.
As usual, the club is packed when I pull up and the line is wrapped around the building. After putting the car in park, I stare at the crowd instead of turning my car off.
I recognize the bouncer working the door from my last night here. He’s picking and choosing who to let in, starting with the women with the shortest skirts and skimpiest shirts. Their expressions are a mixture of excitement and anticipation, and I can actually hear their squeals of delight from across the parking lot.
Next up are the men dressed in expensive clothing. They don’t squeal—thank fuck—but their faces also show anticipation. They look like predators on the hunt for the easiest kill. They’ll definitely find what they’re looking for inside.
While I watch the chicks who were passed over shimmy their tops down to show off more cleavage and pout in an attempt to shoot to the front of the line, my lip curls in disgust.
Is this really my life?
Worse than the disdain I’m feeling towards the pathetic people in line, I’m repulsed by the thought that, just a few short months ago, that was me.
I was one of those guys, hungry for some pussy and on the prowl every single weekend.
I narrow my eyes on one of the chicks in line. Her huge tits are defying gravity in a dress so short that I swear I can see her pussy. There’s not a wrinkle anywhere on her face, and she could probably stand to eat a cheeseburger—or five.
Two months ago, I would have taken her home and fucked her without even asking for her name. The next morning would have been awkward as I escorted her out of my apartment and tried to ignore the look of disappointment when I didn’t ask for her number. I’d have called Tripp to tell him all about the hot piece of ass I’d had and then started making plans for the next conquest.
Bile creeps up the back of my throat.
I’m such an asshole.
After grabbing my phone, I type a quick text to Tripp. Then I throw it in the passenger’s seat.
There’s only one place I want to be tonight, and it sure as fuck isn’t here.
The house is dark except for one room that has a dim light on. I don’t hesitate before jumping out and taking the porch stairs two at a time. It’s late, but I ring the bell anyway. After a few moments, the blinds move and Sidney’s surprised face appears.
Sheepishly, I raise my hand and mouth, “Hi,” before she pulls the door open.
“Breccan. What are you doing here?”
Wearing flannel pajama pants with reindeer on them and a matching tank top, she is the polar opposite of the women I saw at Raw. Her face has been scrubbed clean of any makeup, and her hair is up in her signature pile on the top of her head. She looks ridiculous, beautiful, and adorable at the same time.
After sucking in a deep breath, I ask “Can I come in?”
Silently, she steps aside. She closes the door behind me and then turns on her heel and motions for me to follow her to the living room. The room is dark, and instead of turning the overhead light on, she switches the lamp on before settling in her spot on the couch. She looks up at me expectantly. I sit at the other end of the couch before deciding I want to be closer to her and scooting down. Surprise crosses her features, but she quickly replaces it with a blank expression.
I’m nervous about what I’m going to say. I’m not sure how she’ll react or if she will even believe me. Afraid I’ll chicken out, though, so I start talking.
“I’m sorry.” The words were surprisingly hard to get out. Apologizing is not something I’ve done often, and I’m not even sure I know how to do it properly.
Sidney raises her eyebrows and presses her lips together. I study her face for any indication of what she’s thinking and notice that her eyes are pink and puffy, like she’s been crying.
The guilt I’ve recently begun experiencing returns. I’m sure I’m the reason for her tears, and the thought of her crying because of me kills. I cup her jaw in my hand before lightly rubbing her cheek with my thumb.
Her eyelids flutter shut and she sighs while tilting her face into my palm. Her reaction gives me the fuel I need to keep going. I pull my hand away, but I’m not ready to stop touching her, so I grab her hand.
“I’m an asshole, Sid. I’ve always been a selfish prick. I’ve never had anyone care about me though, so I’ve always had to be the one to care about me the most. I’m used to doing what I want, getting what I want, and taking what I want. I don’t know how to care about others.” I scrub my palm over my thigh.
“That’s not true, Breccan. I’ve seen you—”
I cut her off with a shake of my head. “I’m a virgin, Sidney,” I say solemnly.
A short burst of laughter escapes her mouth, and she shakes her head. “Yeah, right, Breccan. Do I have ‘dumbass’ stamped on my forehead?” She laughs again.
I rush to explain myself. “Well, I mean, not a virgin virgin. I’m a relationship virgin. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here. Hell, I had more finesse the first time I had sex than I do with this whole boyfriend thing.”
Her eyes widen at the word boyfriend, but she only says, “Oh.” Then she takes her hand from mine and brings her thumb to her mouth to chew on the nail.
Disappointed at the loss of contact with her skin, I pull her hand out of her mouth and lace my fingers through hers once again. “After you left, I went to my favorite club.” I purposely leave the part about destroying my kitchen out. “I couldn’t even get out of the car, Sidney. I sat there staring at the people dying to get inside and all I could think about was that I was dying to get out of that life. I don’t want to go to the clubs anymore. I’m tired of that shit. I just want to be with you. Here. On this couch. Eating fucking sushi if that’s what you want.”
I grimace, and she giggles.
It’s the fucking truth. Sitting in my car outside of Raw, all I could think about was how desperately I wanted to feel Sidney’s lips on mine and have her scent in my nose. I would have gladly choked down a pound of that crap if it meant I could go back and undo our fight and what I’d said.
“I’m sorry I freaked out when you called yourself my girlfriend.”
Her face falls.
I use my free hand to tip her chin up before I confess, “I don’t know how to do this. I have nothing to compare this to.” I use my hand to gesture between us. “But I can tell you that I want you. I want to hear you laugh. I want to make you smile. I want to hold you when you cry.” I run my thumb across her cheek. “I can tell you that I need you. I need your mouth on mine, your hair in my hands, your skin under my fingertips” Taking a chance, I lean in and place a light kiss on her lips.
She doesn’t pull away, so I continue speaking.
“I can tell you that no one else makes me laugh the way you do. No one else makes me feel stronger than you do. I miss you all the fucking time, Sid. Every minute of the day that I’m not with you, I’m dying to see you. My ph
one dings and I hope it’s you. When it’s not, I’m always so fucking bummed.” Lifting my shoulders in a shrug, I admit, “I’ve never felt this way about another person before, and I’m fumbling around like a kid trying to cop his first feel in the dark. I didn’t realize until tonight that I want you to be my girlfriend. I want to do all the cheesy couple things that people do—with you. And, Sidney, I’m really sorry I didn’t remember you from the club. I don’t know how I could have possibly forgotten you. But it’s not because you are forgettable. Because, ever since you fell down your fucking stairs, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. And I don’t want to.” I blow out a breath when I finish and glance away from her penetrating gaze.
“Breccan,” she says quietly, and I turn my face back to hers.
I’m struck again by how incredibly beautiful she is. I stare at her, waiting for her to speak, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she touches her lips to mine. The kiss is gentle at first, but the moment my tongue darts out and touches hers, feral need takes over.
Pressing on her shoulders, I try to guide her on to her back, but she climbs into my lap instead. Her need to be in control is sexy, but I’m not ready to hand the reins over quite yet.
Breaking the kiss, I pant, “Where’s your room?” If I had it my way, I would take her right here on the couch, but we aren’t the only ones in the house, and I don’t want to risk getting caught by Abby or, even worse, Connor.
Her eyes widen, and she whispers, “Top of the stairs, first door on the right.”
I rise to my feet, taking her with me. She folds her legs around my waist as I continue kissing her neck while making my way to the stairs. I send up a silent prayer that Connor and Abby are heavy sleepers before heading up.
Breccan’s mouth works my neck as he carries me up the stairs to my bedroom, and my stomach does somersaults.