With You: With you, I am who I want to be.

by Jensen Kristyne

  We stay for two more rounds of drinks, until I’ve sufficiently had my fill of Penny’s I’m better than you attitude. On the way out, I keep my eyes laser-locked to the floor just to avoid any possibility of seeing Theo again. Throughout the night I managed to see enough . . . of him and the girl he has superglued to his arm to last a lifetime.

  The next morning, I find myself lying in bed, just staring up at the ceiling. Thanks to all the sugar in those cocktails I drank, I tossed and turned for hours after Luca dropped us off.Memories haunting my mind as I think about Theo and this new, darker side of him that I’m not sure I really like. This isn’t a playground for kids. Theo’s obnoxious voice plays in my head. The fact that he still views me as a “kid” pisses me off more than I’d like to admit.

  An hour later, my stomach growls alerting me that it’s time to get up. I roll from my bed and throw my dirty blonde hair up into its usual messy bun. I can feel the knots pull in my neck as I wrap the bun twice with the rubber band, too tired to care. I pass a mirror, but I don’t bother looking. I know I’ll hate what I see.

  "Morning," I say in between a yawn, when I turn the corner into our kitchen and find Becks, seated and helping herself to a bowl of cereal.

  "Ah, sleeping beauty finally wakes!" She laughs and sets down the book she’d been reading.

  My eyes shift to the clock on the stove, widening when I notice it’s already close to one o'clock in the afternoon!

  "So, is it just me, or are you kind of freaking out too?"

  "Freaking out?" I lean against the counter. My mind is still sifting through random thoughts from last night. “About what?”

  "Oh I don't know." She smiles, spooning milk into her mouth as fast as she can. "You don’t think it’s strange that after all this time, Theo just randomly shows up. And on the one night you actually agree to come out with me.”

  Tilting her bowl, Becks lets the milk pool against the opposite side before she makes quick work of finishing off the tiny pieces of cereal. When she finishes, she wipes her mouth.

  “Wait. You don’t think he’s going to want to hang out again, do you?”

  “Yeah, no. That’s not going to happen!” I nervously bite at my bottom lip. I think Theo was just as surprised to see us as we were to see him. In fact, I don’t think he has any interest in hanging out with us, ever. At least, I didn’t until she just mentioned it.

  "Hey, so, whatever happened with Wes?” I try to move the conversation along, remembering how—at the last minute—Penny called him over to the table to introduce us. But when Luca and I left, to stop by the bathrooms, Becks had stayed behind to talk to him.

  "Oh yeah!" She shoots forward in her seat and pushes the book further up the table, as she leans her elbows along either side of her bowl. "I can’t believe I forgot.”

  “So? What happened?”

  “What happened is I found out that man is perfection! He’s sweet and handsome. And he asked me to come back tonight to hang out with him. Well . . . he asked both of us to."

  “Both of us?” I say, and she nods her head. “No. Becks, I can’t.”

  "Oh please. I need you.”

  I arch my brow as I watch Becks silently plead. She crosses her hands in front of her chest. “Please! Please! Pleeeeease! I’ll love you forever and ever.”

  “No can do. I really need to study. If I fail this exam, my father will lose it. It’s worth half of my grade.”

  “Oh, come on. You never fail, and your father can learn to loosen the reins a little.” Becks rocks side to side excessively. The wooden chair creaks under her every time she leans to one side.

  Because I know she won’t relent, I give in and say, "Fine. But we’re not staying out long."

  “Yay!” She jumps up from her seat and wraps her thin arms around me. "I told him we’d be there around ten, so you’ll still have plenty of time to study before we go."

  "Oh you did, did you?"

  “Yup. And before you try to worm your way out of it, just know, I’m picking out your outfit tonight."

  “What? No. No!”

  “Yes! You desperately need to find a man, Bree. You’ve been single for too long. And nothing in that closet of yours is going to help.”

  A man?

  When the hell did this turn into operation get Brielle a boyfriend?

  “I don’t need a man, Becks. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re really not.”

  I arch a brow at her across the room like excuse me?

  “All I’m saying is that Mr. Darcy may be steamy when it comes to those classic literary novels of yours, but it's not your legs he's burying himself into. . . it's Elizabeth's.”

  I turn around and busy myself cleaning the few items we have in our sink, trying to erase the image her words provoked. When I finish, I go to the refrigerator and pour myself a glass of juice.

  "Look! At the very least, maybe meeting a guy might would help you relieve some of the stress you put yourself through. You know, by letting someone else do all the work for once.”

  I lean back letting her words sink in before bursting out loud in a fit of laughter. "Did you seriously just insinuate that I—"

  "Flick your bean to Pride and Prejudice. . . yes."“Oh my God, Becks!”

  I close my eyes. The blood under my cheeks ignites as I feel my jaw drop. Great. Now I'll never look at Jane Austen the same way ever again.

  “I don’t do that!” I tell her.

  I could never. Have never. Nor do I plan to start now.

  “Okay! Okay!” Her face twists with an uneasy look. “Geez, and y’all say I’m the unusual one.”

  chapter five

  THEO

  Overall, I think it was a pretty great turnout last night." Wes follows me into my office. I throw down my keys and the stack of papers he so graciously shoved at me when I first walked in. Fuck, he's annoying today. I just arrived, and ever since then, it's been a never-ending strand of opinions from him.

  I drop my eyes down to my desk. His trail of thoughts finally comes to an end as he collapses into one of the chairs in front of it and says, "She's coming here tonight so I guess we’ll see."

  "Who is?"

  "Who? The new girl I was just telling you about! Man, you never listen.” He fumbles with a pen on my desk. “Becks . . . something, I think. She’s pretty hot. Great rack."

  At the sound of the name, old memories I've worked so hard to bury flood my mind, and an image of another girl—a short, blond in white—resurfaces. The thin-ass top she wore and barely-there skirt showed her womanly features in a way that affected me more than I’d like to admit. It was like no time had passed; everything I felt for her before was back.

  I cut my eyes to Wes and watch the confusion build behind his eyes. Jesus, what does he want . . . approval?

  "Well, good luck with that." I feign interest at the idea of Becks and him “talking.” If only so he’ll hurry the hell up and leave.

  But I can’t hide my smile.

  Becks doesn’t talk. She eats guys alive. I know from experience, watching her and Mason together. That girl had him so wrapped; he couldn’t see that she was just leading him on.

  To distract myself, I begin sifting mindlessly through the stack of mail currently weighing down my desk. I expect him to leave, but instead, he shoots out of his seat.

  "Wait. You know her?" The excitement in his voice annoys me. Damn it. So much for hurrying this conversation along. Now I'm going to have to give him something, or he’ll just keep pestering me.

  I sigh and take a seat. "She is . . . was, one of the girls who ran around in my group," I eventually relent. "A freshman, my senior year. Her best friend was my best friend’s younger sister."

  I pause when another memory resurfaces. The quick flash of Mason’s image passes over my mind, and of a young Brielle beside him.

  "Oh shit." Wes smiles and nods his head. Seeming to be content enough for now to move on. "Well, I'm just going to see how it goes. I really wanted to talk
to her friend, but she had some asshole with her who was being a serious cock block."

  I laugh, picking at the frayed edges of a notebook.

  "Luca." I shake my head. The irony not lost on me that for the first time, ever, I’m grateful for Luca’s, annoyingly accurate, obsession with Brielle. Then I remember the way he slid his hand around her waist, and I'm over it. I take a deep breath and try to relax my hand—the one currently choking a section of Target ads.

  "What?"

  "Not what, who. The asshole," I tell him. "His name is Luca."

  "Huh. Well, either way, I told Becks to bring her tonight. She’s a ten, man. I'd fu—"

  "Don't . . . finish that sentence," I threaten him. The thought of him in bed with her makes my blood boil. That annoying desire to punch something pricks at my nerves, like an itch between the shoulder blades you just can’t scratch. I take a deep breath. "Brielle is off-limits," I repeat the words her brother said to me more times than I can remember.

  "Oh, I see." Wes grins. He grabs the paperweight off my desk, tosses it back and forth a few times, then stops. "You like her."

  The fuck?

  "No. I definitely do not," I say, my answer quick, too quick. And unfortunately, for me, Wes isn't as dumb as he looks. He instantly picks up on it.

  "What the hell happened to Katrina, man? I saw you giving her ‘the look’ just last night," he chokes. The rise of his voice has my pulse racing, and I shoot him a warning glance. The fuck is this? Therapy hour? "Damn. Okay. Point made. She’s yours," he yields. "Have them both."

  "Brielle is far from mine, and Katrina and I. . ." Fuck. Why the hell are we even talking about this? "Don't you have inventory to do?" I ask, wadding up a section of ads to toss at him. "I mean, what the hell am I paying you for?"

  "Because the girls need something to look at when they come to this club of yours?" He laughs, smoothing his hands down the front of his shirt. “And because you’re shit with people.”

  I shake my head, my daily limit of stupidity getting dangerously high.

  Wes stands with his back is to me, as he slowly creeps to the door. He turns around at the last second to add, "You sure you don’t like her, man? Because I could get behind a threesome with—"

  "Do you want me to kick your ass? Get the fuck out of my office, Wes!" I yell. He’s clearly joking, trying to provoke me. That asshole. He always likes to piss me off. Little does he know that I’ve kicked other guys’ asses just for thinking as much. Even being a best friend has its limits. Something I learned a long time ago.

  I sit back down and pick up the stack of new hire documents he left on my desk. They’re all the same. Nice hair. Big boobs. I toss them down. Instead, I close my eyes and let my mind's eye finds its way back to her—to Brielle—of her standing there, staring back at me, while everyone else had turned away. She was so pissed that I’d sent Devon home, but what she didn’t know was that I did it for her own good.

  I exhale a deep breath.

  Fucking Wes! Why did I let him talk me into opening a club here on campus anyway? It’s too close to home. To her and to our past. I knew I was bound to run into her, but I definitely didn’t expect for her to show up so soon, especially not with him. Watching Luca lavish her with his hands took everything I had in me not to reach over and strangle him.

  He's always wanted her, and now that he has her, I have what I need to move on. Closure. Reassurance that she’s okay and that she hasn’t been miserable since I left. Not that it would affect me either way if she was, I quickly remind myself.

  Brielle Sutton was always too good to ever be with a guy like me. If I wasn’t good enough for her then, I sure as hell am not good enough for her now. Not after everything I’ve done.

  In that moment, I stand and grab my keys. There’s no way I can fucking work now. I’m too riled up. If I don’t leave,I’m only going to continue to think about it until, eventually, I’ll tear this club apart. I pull out my phone and quickly dial Katrina, telling her to hurry and get dressed. Like it or not, I needed to feel something. Anything. I just need a release.

  chapter six

  BRIELLE

  I change my mind. I'm not going," I say, shaking my head repeatedly. The reflection of the random blonde girl, staring back at me is one of false familiarity.

  "Oh, you're going," Becks calls from the closet, her copper eyes burning as she hurries to continue her search for something. "And you're wearing that dress. So deal with it."

  I work my hands down the front of the dress. The olive color gives the illusion that I'm tanner than I actually am. Okay. Yeah, no. I can do this! It's not that short, I suppose. I spin to the side and squeeze my eyes shut. God, who am I kidding?

  "Becks, there's literally no back to this!"

  In a fit of anger, Becks tosses the lone heel of the pair she wants to wear, and then stomps over to me. "I swear, if I left my other heel at Derrick's, I'm going to be pissed." Her eyes assess my dress again. "Nope. It's perfect. Now, if you'll excuse me. . . I have to go call Derrick and pray his girlfriend hasn't found my other shoe. And that, if she has, she hasn’t killed him with it yet. They're my favorite pair."

  Okay . . .

  I feel my eyes grow wide. The laundry list of issues that one sentence held is not something I want to tackle, when I still have the entire night ahead of me. I’m picking my battles tonight. Closing my eyes, I force myself to walk out of her room. No matter how long I stare, the reflection isn’t going to change. I know I’ll only talk myself out of going if I do.

  I’m halfway to the kitchen, when I spot Luca sprawled out on the couch.

  "Hey!" I smile, tucking my dress under me as I plop down beside him. "You just get here?"

  "Yeah, Becks let me in while you were in the shower." His blinks at the television screen as if he’s fighting to stay awake. "I didn't know you two were going. . ." his words trail off as he finally turns and looks at me. His dart back and forth in an insane way.

  "Okay, it's not that bad."

  "Brielle, what the—you can’t be serious about wearing that!" he sputters. His sleepiness has completely subsided.

  "Excuse me?"

  The dress is short; I’ll give him that. But short, to me, is anything above mid-thigh. And the back is . . . well, the back is nonexistent. But, it’s not like I’m not hanging out everywhere. Like Becks says, ‘all the naughty bits are covered.’ I mean, I let her talk me into a lot of things, but I’m not a complete pushover.

  Seeing my reaction, Luca backpedals. "I don’t mean it to be rude." His words are broken in the way they always get when he's nervous about something. "I just mean that people may get the wrong impression about you, seeing you in that, and since I have that thing with my mom, I can’t be there to—"

  "Okay, I'm ready!" Becks interjects as she exits her room. I smile and turn to her, seeing she’s wearing a gorgeous, navy sequined dress. "I know." She smiles brightly. "I look amazing."

  "Wesley is going to love it," I say and stand, making my way over to the door. I grab my keys and my phone from the tiny table in the entry hall and shove them into my clutch. "Look, I'm going to have my phone if anything happens, or if we need saving, okay?" I turn toward Luca, trying not to leave on a sour note.

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Becks laughs, reaching around me to grab her phone before she snatches my keys and tosses them at Luca. "You can't drink and drive. Luca’s our ride. Why do you think he’s here?"

  Wait. What?

  I turn to Luca. "Is that okay with you?" I ask because it seems like once again, Becks forgot not everyone lives to serve her.

  "Yup! Yes!" Luca smiles and rushes toward the door.

  I shoot a look at Becks, but she just waves me off.

  "Oh, stop," she groans. "You and I both know he would have found a way to do it anyway."

  When we arrive at the club Wesley is waiting for us outside. He smiles and waves us over. I can tell by his expression that he’s surprised to see Luca in the driver's seat
, but he doesn’t say anything.

  "Come on. Let's head inside." He waves us behind him as we walk around the line and straight back.

  "Damn! How cool was that?" Becks laughs, clearly loving the way everyone in line had stopped and stared at us as we walked by.

  "Pretty crazy," I say, not sure if I’d consider being glared at by a hundred or so people, who’ve been waiting in line for over an hour, “cool.”

  Wesley ushers us over to the bar that’s shaped like a square, motioning for us to take a seat.

  “I feel terrible about this, but one of my bartenders turned out to be a flake and quit this morning. So I’m stuck covering her shifts until I can hire someone new.” He reaches for a pair of shot glasses and begins to pour something brown into each of them. “But I also didn’t want to cancel.”

  "She quit, huh?" Becks smiles, leaning over the bar top to grab one of the shots and tosses it back. "I bartended a bit last year. Depending on how tonight goes, I might just let you talk me into helping you with some of those shifts."

  Wesley’s jaw drops as Becks sets the glass down and motions for him to hand her the other. Turning my head I try to pretend that I'm not completely a third wheel, when my eyes are drawn to the dance floor. From this far away, I can see the blanket of smoke that floats in a thin layer across the room. It looks like something out of an old horror film that appears just before the monster does.

  "Brielle? Hello?” Becks waves a hand in my face. “You alive in there? Wesley asked you a question."

  "Oh shoot. I'm sorry, Wesley," I offer and turn around to find both of them staring. “What was your question?”

  "That’s okay! I. . . ugh . . . I asked if you wanted a drink." He smiles. “And please, call me Wes. Only my mother calls me by my full name, and I hate it.”