The smell of peppermint rises from the cup and kisses my nose. Mm. . . I smile, remembering how much Mason used to love this drink. It's like Christmas, he would say. God, I miss my brother. I can't believe it's been five years now.
I pull out my phone and tap the screen. Great. I'm now an hour late at picking my mom up from the house. She’s going to kill me. Today was supposed to be our annual shopping trip for the memorial—Wednesdays are when they put out all the fresh buffet platters.
I open my messages and quickly type an apology before hitting send. Well, there goes my Friday night plans. Looks like I now have a date with my mom. And Kroger's.
Sighing, I crumple back against the wooden frame of my chair. I hope this weekend passes fast. Every year, for the past four years, the Suttons have hosted a party the first weekend in October to commemorate the loss of my brother. It's usually super sad and ends with my parents drunk and passed out on the couch. But two years ago, Becks, Luca, and I started our own tradition.
After all the formal stuff ends, we all sneak away to the D.O., our old High School party spot, and light a bonfire. We still drink—don't get me wrong—but it's more of a celebration than a memorial. I think Mason would have preferred it that way; he was never a fan of sappy stuff.
Lifting my eyes, I smile as Becks whirls into her seat. "Okay, so the party starts at six, right?" she asks.
"Nope, seven, but you can get there at six and help me decorate—"
"Ah! It’s cute how after these years, you still think I would ever help decorate; seven it is." She smiles. "Then it's off to the D.O. directly after, right?"
"Yup. Luca, said he's going to grab the alcohol so we should be all set."
"Good."
I can see something else brewing behind her eyes as I lift my cup and take another sip.
"What?"
"Oh nothing."
"Becks . . ."
"Okay, well, it’s more of a question actually." I blow into my lid again, then take a sip, listening to her babble. "Are you inviting Theo Saturday?"
"Theo?" I almost spit my drink at her. The sound of his name invokes a vision of him pinning me against the wall at Knock Out as his finger slowly trailed across my chest. I feel a strange, throbbing sensation when I remember how much I had liked it and cross my legs, squeezing them tightly.
"No, why would I?"
"Well, he was Mason's best friend. . . and now that he's back home—"
"Yeah, but I don't think that's such a great idea," I interject, letting my mind wander.
The idea of the two of us being back there, together, after all this time, is almost too painful to think about and of itself. I set my cup down and run my finger in circles around the rim. No, I can't invite him. The last time Theo was there, it was the night Mason died. Having him come would open too many wounds. For me, for us, and for my family. . . right?
"Plus, what about Luca?" I ask.
"What about me?"
The two of us turn around and find Luca hovering behind us, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. I cut my eyes toBecks as I remove my bag from his chair. When did he get here?
"Nothing, nosey." She's quick to recover and rolls her eyes for added effect. I watch her tap her screen, the tiny clock illuminating over a picture of her and Wes. "Oh, shit. I’d better run. I've got to get to work before Kallen has a heart attack."
"Kallen?" Luca asks, taking a sip from his coffee. I crinkle my nose at the sight. How the hell does he drink that—black with no sugar and no cream?
"Yeah. He's the new trainer at the gym I work at during the week. He's an ass if you ask me." Becks sighs, standing and reaching for her bag. "I swear, I keep praying that Wes will let me take on more shifts at Haze because the tips there are more than I make at this hourly shithole."
"Bye, Becks," I call after her.
"Bye, bitch!"
Becks twirls around at the last second to yell, “Don't forget my Claws, Luca!” as she pushes the door open and strolls out.
"She knows it's like fifty-five degrees out there, right? We had that cold front come in."
"Yup."
"Huh. Well, I'm just amazed anyone willingly employs that girl.” He laughs. It's a hearty laugh and I smile at the sound of it. "Wesley must have it bad."
“Appears so.”
When Saturday comes, it’s pushing six o’clock, when I finally finish arranging my mother's collection of Mason photos, proudly in the foyer. He would have hated being on display like this. I finger the ends of my hair and smile at my favorite one. The one with the two of us, laughing at the pool the summer before he died. I press my finger to his face. Everything was so much simpler back then.
Forcing myself to cough, I clear my throat and fight back the tears threatening to ruin my mother's perfection. She, like Becks, always likes to go the extra mile when it comes to appearances. For my mother, it's more about her gain in community status than simply doing it to get attention. Being the only real estate broker in our tiny town has made her this way. It’s a taxing job . . . or so she says.
So when my mom insists on helping me get ready, I don't argue. It’s easier than hearing her speech about what would happen to our family name if I didn’t. Her brokerage is what’s keeping me from having to have a job like Becks. I don’t need a Kallen bossing me around. I already have enough people trying to control me.
"Done." I smile as I walk into the dining room, awaiting my next set of orders. I pull out a chair to sit, when the doorbell echoes throughout the house. I double-check the clock. "Who the heck could that be? It's not even half past six."
I can see the worry written clearly along my mother's face. She hates it when things don’t go as planned. "Well, go answer it. Whoever it is can help, I guess."
I walk down the long hall and open the door. My mouth falls open when I find Theo, standing, in a white T-shirt and black jeans, holding a dozen red roses on the other side. The knees of his jeans are torn. His biceps are pulling at the sleeves of his shirt. He smiles down at me. That nagging throb between my thighs is suddenly back and in full force as I take in the sight of him.
I shake my head, all too aware of how I must look.
"W-What are you doing here?" I stumble, trying to get my words out. My eyes wrap the length of his perfectly chiseled body once more.
"Brielle, honey. Who is it?" I hear my mother's voice coming up behind me. I push the door open the rest of the way, and she wraps her arms around Theo.
What the. . .?
“Okay, does someone want to fill me in?” I arch my brow at his smug face and roll my eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Brielle don’t be rude. I invited him.”
“These are for you," Theo says, the corners of his lips pulling back into that devilish grin as he hands my mother the roses. The moment his arm extends, I see my mother's smile draw tight.
"Oh, Theo. Were you going to change here?" My mother’s voice is strained.
He laughs half amused. "Is something wrong with my clothes?"
"Other than them being covered in holes?" I shake my head.
I can see my mother starting to panic. Her eyes shift back and forth rapidly between Theo, his clothes, and his tattoos. I know that if I don’t do something fast, she’ll have a meltdown. Losing Mason wasn’t the only thing she lost five years ago. She lost her patience too.
I take a step toward her and reach out to touch her shoulder; I hate seeing her worry like this. “Um, hey, Mom. Why don’t you let me handle this? I can take Theo upstairs, and I’m sure Dad will have something that he can borrow."
I watch her shoulders sag as she relaxes, letting out a breath. "Good thinking, dear." She waves her hand for Theo to hurry inside. "Well then, chop, chop. People will be here soon, you two!"
I cut my eyes to Theo and find he's grinning from ear to ear. I shake my head and playfully swat his arm. Of course he's excited about this, I silently say to myself, then turn and walk up the stairs. "What are you smiling at?"
/>
"Nothing," he says as he follows behind me. "I just forgot how cute your obsessive need to problem solve is."
Cute?
Theo thinks I’m . . . cute?
Ugh! No wonder he left when he did. No one ever chooses the “cute girl.” Ten minutes later, and we're nowhere closer than when we started.
"If this one doesn't work, then I give up." I half laugh, shifting atop the bed.
So far, I've hated all of the options on him; my father's collection isn't the greatest. Something about palm trees, frilly peacock feathers, and weird teardrop dotted things, just don’t scream Theo.
"That's okay. I like a girl who knows how to take her time," he calls from the closet. The rich sound of his laugh creeps out from beneath the door.
"Well, if they weren't all just so cute on you, we'd be done by now."
Theo peeks his head out from behind the door. "I knew that bothered you," he quickly replies, then steps out. His hand motions to the tie hanging around his neck. "I think I need a little help."
He comes around the side, and I take in the sight of him. Holy hell, I think to myself as he moves to stand in front of the floor-length mirror. The solid-charcoal dress shirt against his all-black jeans and the black tie he has draped around his neck looks amazing on him. I swallow hard, the air rapidly getting hotter in the room by the second.
"See something you like, Brielle?" He smirks. He’s so cocky that it’s unreal—as if he needs me to tell him how handsome he is.
"I, ugh, I was just. . ." I say and scoot off the bed. Crap. The way this boy affects me, I'll never understand it. "Sorry.” I try to smile, my cheeks betraying me as they burn under the weight of his stare.
I pad over to where he's standing and reach for his tie but he stops me. His hand takes hold of my wrist. I notice his eyes are darker than usual.
"Don't apologize. I like seeing when I affect you." The words roll off his tongue in a way that sends goosebumps racing down my spine.
I shiver inwardly before pulling my hand back. It's then that I catch the slightest bit of imperfection as I look up at him. The deep cuts and splashes of bruising—almost fully healed—that play along the features of his face. I immediately think back to that night at K.O., when something flashes in his eyes. I push away from him.
"You said you would leave him alone, Theo!" I head for the door, but he's quick on his feet.
"I did, but he was waiting for me out in the parking lot."
I shake my head, looking up at him. "You expect me to believe that?" I snap as I try to push around him. But it's no use.
"Let me go, Theo."
"No."
I move to shove him, but he's faster than me. Before I know what's happened, he spins us around so that my back is to the wall while he presses his body up against mine. Why do I always let him do this to me? I wonder as I look up and find our faces are only an inch apart. His lips are too close for me to be able to think straight. I want to push him off or yell but I can't. I'd be lying if I said a part of me didn’t want to let it happen—to let him kiss me. . . and more.
I shift uncomfortably and tilt my head back to rest against the door. I feel my cheeks start to heat and, annoyingly, he notices. His eyes roam down my body and hovers over a certain spot. I swallow hard, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach.
"Theo, I. . ." I begin to say, but stop myself.
I drop my eyes to a spot on the carpet, but he lifts my chin, gently forcing me to look up at him.
"What do you want, Brielle?" he asks, his expression soft. "I need you to say it."
I can feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I release a breath I hadn't known I was holding. I let my eyes drift down to his mouth and I bite my lip.
"I want—”
"Brielle? Theo?" I stop talking the moment I hear my mother's heels padding down the hallway. Her voice calls out as she searches for us. I cut my eyes to the door, then to Theo and then at our appearance. "Guests are arriving. Ya'll about ready?"
Oh, this was going to be hard to explain. . .
Two hours later, the memorial is almost over, and I’m starving. I grab a plate from the buffet table and begin making my way through the line.
"Hungry, are we?" I jump when Luca's voice rushes up behind me, startling me. I turn to my side and shoot him a look. "Sorry." He raises his hands in defense before he reaches out and takes my plate from me. "What's got you so jumpy?"
"Nothing worth repeating." I pick up a pretzel stick. My eyes sweep out towards the family room in search of Theo but he isn't there. I take a deep breath and try to relax. "Everything's fine," I offer Luca, not sure if I was saying it more to reassure him or me.
We reach the end of the buffet line. My plate is full. Holding out his arm for me to take, Luca escorts me over to an empty spot at the table, where the two of us sit and pick at the bounty.
Thankfully, now that all the speeches are done, people are starting to clear out. So, I don’t need to stop and talk every few minutes. These people’s annoying need for me to relive Mason's final moments, just before everything went to hell in a handbasket, is an annual tradition of theirs, which I wish would stop. Don't they know that's not how I want to remember my brother?
"So." Luca smiles, seemingly happy all of a sudden. "I have everything loaded in the car, so we're all set to leave as soon as you're ready."
Oh crap. I drop the rolled-up slice of turkey I’m holding and brush my hands along my thighs. Just when I think I’m in the clear. "So, um," I begin, but chicken out. Reaching for my water cup, I quickly gulp down a few, rather large, mouthfuls.
"What's wrong?"
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, then set down my cup. Please, don't make a scene, I silently beg him in my mind. How do I tell Luca that after my mom caught us in her room that she may have . . . she definitely did . . . invite Theo to join us?
“Theo’s coming. Tonight, I mean.”
The expression that quickly overtakes his face is exactly what I had been dreading since the moment Theo had agreed to come. "Please don't kill me."
"What? Why, Brielle? Why would you invite that asshole?"
"Luca, please. . . just listen to me."
"Asshole?" Becks interjects.
The short, purple dress she’s wearing sways as she comes around the back of my chair and sits down on my lap. Her purple painted fingernails, skim over the selection of deli meats until she finds a slice of ham and pops it in her mouth.
"Luca, no one wants to hear about the kinky-ass shit you're into, okay?" She grins playfully, then reaches for my drink.
Luca slaps his hand over his face. "Dear God. We're talking about Theo, Becks. Theo!"
"Oh." She brushes her hands before reaching for a Ritz cracker. "What about him? Did he tell you that I invited him?" she asks. The calm tone of her voice sounds as if she doesn't think anything about it. "Wes, too."
"Wait, what?" I say and push her up off of my lap. "You invited him too? I thought I told you I didn't want him to come?"
"I'm so confused," Luca says to no one in particular.
"Well, you did, but I thought you just meant as to like . . . here. To the boring stuff."
Is she serious right now?
“Becks. . . you know that’s not what I—"
"Okay, freeze, Brielle. What’s going on?" Luca turns to me then. His eyes are searching the far depths of my own as if the question is about more than the simple invite.
"What’s going on is, after a comment my mother made a about it when she found us together upstairs. One thing led to another and now he’s coming. Although, apparently Becks invited him too. But, look, it's not a big deal. He probably won't even come."
"Oh, he's coming." Becks half laughs. "Luca, over here, forgot my Claws. So, he and Wes are going to grab them on their way over."
“Your mother found you two together?” Luca repeats my words to himself. “Upstairs?”
“Really, Sherlock, of course that’s what you would take from
all of that.” Becks snaps at Luca, launching her half-eaten cracker into his lap. “Not that you forgot my Claws?”
Closing my eyes, I stand up from my seat. "I better go tell my parents that we're headed out." I force myself to smile as
I turn and start toward the kitchen where my parents always hang out. My mind trips over what the hell I’m going to do, now that I know Theo is actually going to come.
chapter thirteen
THEO
Why the hell did you invite so many people, again?" I yell at Wes. My head pounds as I sweep my eyes over the endless sea of random people I’ve never met, dancing mindlessly around the fire pit. Leave it to Wes to turn a quiet night out into a massive party.
I cut my eyes back to Brielle. The rich green of her own eyes are cast down as she sits next to Luca on a spare log. The two of them are laughing hysterically.
What the hell's so funny?
Luca raises his hand to brush something off Brielle's leg, his fingers lingering along the curve of her knee. Even from here, I can see the blush that spreads across her cheeks. Damn it, I hate that asshole. I watch them for a moment longer; my hands curl along my sides with every second that he doesn’t remove his hand.
I take in a deep breath.
"Chill, man." Wes smiles as if reading my thoughts. The cool tone of his voice makes me want to punch him in the throat.
I turn to face Wes, ready to ask him who the fuck he thinks he is, telling me to chill, when I find Becks grinding against him. I take a step back and force myself to look away. Jesus. I’m never going to be able to unsee this.
"Becks said it was all good," he continues. His tone is placid and too matter of fact for my liking. "Besides, with just the two girls, it would have been a sausage fest."
"Right." I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.
I cut my eyes back at Brielle, but it’s a wasted of effort. She isn't paying attention. Damn it. I knew that our little moment would cost me some ground with her. She’s with Luca, and yet again, I found myself pinning her to a wall—something I really need to stop doing because, regardless of her relationship, in no way will Brielle ever fit into my world.
With You: With you, I am who I want to be. Page 10