I inhale a deep breath and try to relax. Between Katrina's failed attempts to get me in the mood and Brielle dangling this fucker in front of my face, I’m on overload. Besides, Brielle isn't even watching anymore, so what's the point? So much for getting the distraction I need. I grip the neck of my beer bottle and look down to the ground. No, what I need is Brielle.
Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me? I push a hand through my hair and lean back. It's annoying how much I want her. No matter what I do, I can't get that girl out of my head. The way her lips taste; the feel of her skin under my hands. Just the sound of her voice is like a contact high for me. I instantly perk up and feel alive.
It doesn’t help she’s fucking sexy, and she doesn't even know it. Just the thought of kissing her makes my cock hard.
Damn it.
Why the hell did I push her away again?
"Umm, hello?" Katrina groans as she stands in front of me, arms crossed, tapping her foot, like the spoiled brat that she is.
I roll my eyes. God, this chick is annoying. I swear she’s her own cockblock. My father can't seal this deal fast enough so that I can be done with her pouty ass.
"What the hell was that?" she adds as if hearing my thoughts.
I shoot her a warning glance. "Not tonight, Katrina. I'm not in the mood."
"You're never in the mood anymore."
Not for you.
I roll my eyes again and lean around her, when I catch Brielle walking off with porcupine guy. His arm is wrapped around her waist as he leads her to a spot over by the tree line.
What the fuck is he doing now?
Sitting up, I try to get a closer look. He pulls out his phone and sets it in her hand. Her emerald-green eyes come alive against the screen's bright glare, as those grubby fucking fingers of his push into her hair. She smiles innocently and quickly begins tapping her fingers across his screen.
Fuck this shit.
Enough is enough.
"Theo?" I hear Katrina's voice fade into the background while I stand and hurry toward them. This guy is in for a rude fucking awakening if he thinks he's going to get with my girl. In an attempt to save time, I cut through the crowd of people dancing, when I find Wes and Becks nestled in the middle of it all. Shit. I knew I should have gone around.
"Whoa, whoa. Whoa." Wes reaches his arm out to block me. I shift my eyes between the two of them and groan when I find they’re both wasted. "Brielle's fine, man. Leave the poor girl alone to have a little fun."
The fuck?
I whip my head to the side. My chest rises and falls rapidly, as I feel the impending need to get to her weighing heavily on my shoulders.
"Step aside, Wes. I won't ask again."
Wes shifts his stance and squints his eyes. He looks as if he’s trying to read my thoughts but is failing at it. "Yeah, okay, man." He sighs. I watch his expression drop instantly. Lifting his hands, he takes a step back.
"You have something you want to say?" I growl, twisting to the side to look up at my friend. His casual demeanor dials my anger up a notch.
"Nothing, man." He shakes his head. "I'm just waiting for you to admit that you have actual feelings for this girl."
Feelings?
Nodding, I roll my eyes when I don't know what else to say. I hesitate a moment longer before I push around him and make a break toward Brielle. My legs are working to take two steps at a time as I search the tree line for where I last saw her. But she isn't there.
The fuck?
I can feel my heart thumping loudly.
Where the hell is she?
"Looking for someone?" I hear the familiar voice rip through my inner thoughts.
"Fuck off, Luca."
"Yeah, see, I can't do that," He laughs, stepping in between me and my line of sight. "I think it's about time we had a little chat."
I arch my brow while looking down at him and then I roll my shoulders back. Relax, I tell myself. Brielle would never speak to me again if I let Luca goad me into another fight—not that I would consider that one-punch knock out from earlier a fight. Or the one from five years ago after he confronted me at Mason’s funeral, even if I let that one last a little longer.
I scoff, reliving that embarrassing moment for Luca and shake my head. God, this guy's a pussy.
"A little chat?" I press my lips into a hard line; I don't have time for this. "Is there a reason you're wasting my time?"
"I want you to leave Brielle alone," he growls, shrugging his shoulders as he does.
I stare openly at him for a couple of seconds; I just knew I must have misunderstood him. Luca isn't dumb enough to actually threaten me.
"What the fuck did you just say?" I ask, hearing the rise in my voice and watch as the coward winces.
Yeah, that's more like it.
"You heard me."
I laugh, half amused and take a step toward him. "Look, as much as it humors me to listen to you, you don’t want to go down this route." A wicked smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. "It will be the last thing that you do."
"Unless you want me to tell Brielle about what really happened the night Mason died. You won't touch me."
I can feel my pulse quickening as I narrow my eyes at him. My feet press firmly into the ground as I prepare myself; the skin along my knuckles are itching for release. "It's pretty hard to say anything if your mouth is wired shut."
Luca's eyes grow wide with shock; I almost laugh.
"So, what?" he says, shoving his hands into the deep pockets of his jeans. "You get Mason killed, decide to leave for five years and then come back and expect to still have any sort of claim over her?"
The fuck? I look around.
Is he really wanting to do this now?
Here?
"I did not kill Mason! He was my best friend!" I yell, my mind reeling. As much as it pains me to admit, I had to hand it to him. For being such a little bitch earlier, he was actually managing to hold his own pretty well.
"Fine. But then, if you cared about his friendship, you should honor what he wanted all along and leave Brielle alone."
"I won't do that," I say in a matter of fact, surprising even myself. Because I mean it. "I can't."
"You think she will love someone who killed her brother?"
Love?
The word flashes in and out of my mind before I have the chance to really process it.
I can feel what little nails I have digging into my palms as I inhale through my nose and out through clenched teeth. The image of Mason lying shot, bleeding out, pricks at the back of my mind—the bright, neon lights of Redd’s Bar, pulsing in the distance.
I close my eyes and will away the memory.
For years, I’ve struggled with the guilt, trying anything to forget. I’ve buried myself in women, alcohol, and my father's work, but nothing seems to help. Nothing can take away the pain I feel, losing my friend, my home, and Brielle all in one night. I fucking hated myself—still do in some ways—because no matter what I do, it doesn't change the fact that he's gone.
If only I had seen the signs sooner, reacted faster, maybe I could have prevented the whole thing. I'd gladly die a hundred times if it meant Brielle could have her brother back.
I rub my hand along my jaw, then take a step in Luca’s direction. "I'm going to tell you this one last time, and for your sake, you’d better make sure your ears are fucking clear. I. Did. Not. Kill. Mason."
"Well, not directly."
I shake my head. The hell is his problem today? If I didn't know any better, I'd think Luca wanted me to hit him . . . but I do know better. This dumb fuck is just in love—not that I blame him. Brielle can make any man willing to do some crazy shit for her.
I feel my pocket buzzing, and I reach in and take out my phone. I'm thankful for the pause until the bright light of the screen roars to life in my hand and my father's name appears. Jesus. Does everyone want a piece of me tonight?
I stick up my hand to silence Luca when I hear him groaning in front of
me, then I reject the call. It's not like I didn't know what he wanted anyway; he's only called four other times this week for the same exact reason. He's making sure that I've asked Katrina to The All Hallows Eve Ball, where he plans to seal the deal with her father.
The short answer is no.
I haven't.
For some reason, every time I work myself up to asking, my thoughts are clouded with images of Brielle and I choke. That, and the fact that spending four hours trapped with her in a room, makes me want to rip out all my hair.I look back at Luca. "Listen, I'm not going to fight you. All I want is to find Brielle," I say, pausing before I choose to add, "You two aren’t really together, are you?"
He shifts uncomfortably and crosses his arms. Fuck. That’s what I thought. At least, is now. No one, in their right mind, dating Brielle, would ever be okay with another guy making a move on her.
"Why would you ask me that?"
"Because unlike you, I've never been good at sharing."
"Well, maybe it's because, unlike you, I trust her," he offers, but even he doesn't believe it. Luca rolls his eyes in a way that would shame Katrina out of her title. "What is it with you? Why can't you just let her go? There are plenty of other women out there you could fuck with. Brielle deserves more."
I feel my muscles flex at his choice of words when, out of the corner of my eye, I catch Brielle walking toward us. I sweep my eyes around her but see no sign of the hedgehog., but he’s gone. Shit. Now, who am I going to take all this pent-up anger out on?
I relax my hands and feel the tension in my shoulders ease up the closer she gets.
"Please tell me you two aren’t fighting again?" Brielle's soft voice carries through the air.
"No." Both of us answer her at the same time.
"Well, good."
"Can we talk?" I ask and reach out to touch her hand.
She steps back before I can touch her and crosses her arms. "Sure." She nods her head, turning to Luca as she does. I can tell from the look on his face, he's got a fucking opinion about it, but thankfully, for him, he keeps it to himself. "Will you start packing up?" She smiles at him. "It's getting pretty late."
Late?
I tilt my wrist and look at my watch.
It's barely ten thirty?
"Brielle," I begin the second Luca's far enough away.
She raises her hand to cut me off. I pause, seeing the struggle behind her eyes and silently curse myself for causing it.
"Just, stop. This doesn't have to be this difficult. We obviously are better at being friends. We should just—"
"Fuck, no," I say in a matter-of-fact tone. "I have plenty of friends; I don't need another."
I watch her brow lift. Her eyes are wide with shock.
What?
What did I say?
"Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but I am not Katrina!" she shouts, shaking her head as she does. She throws her arms down to her sides and takes another step back. "I thought you knew me better than that, but I guess I was wrong."
When I see her turn to go, I reach out and grasp her arm. But she jerks away from me.
"Stop grabbing me, Theo. I won't tell you again."
I watch her about to leave again, but I step in her way. My fingers close around the back of her arms as I keep her close. "What the hell just happened here?" I ask, my eyes searching hers, trying to find an answer. How did me trying to tell her that I want us to be more turn into a fight over Katrina?
"I would never think that."
"Then what is this? What are we doing?"
I inhale a deep breath and hold it. Fuck. I can't seem to catch a break tonight.
"Shouldn't you be telling me, Brielle? Aren't you with Luca?"
I watch an array of emotions flash across her face as she works to come up with something to say back. What the fuck is it with her? Why did she allow me to believe that they’re together? Does she secretly have feelings for the guy?
A minute trails by with no response, and suddenly I'm over the whole thing. "You know what?" I take a step back. "It is late. Just tell Wes I'll see him tomorrow. Have a nice night, Brielle."
She calls out behind me, asking for me to wait. But this time she isn’t in control. After a ten-minute hike down the hill, I arrive at my truck and hop in. Damn it. I slam my hand against the steering wheel. And before I realize what I'm doing, I pull out on the road. I don't even waste the time debating; I just drive and eventually pull into the parking lot of K.O. My body is aching for a different kind of release.
I open the door and head in. Oh good, Kalie is here tonight. I smile, seeing my favorite waitress hurrying toward me.
"Hey, baby! The usual?" she coos. The black tank she’s wearing seems to only be holding on by a prayer, and those tight-ass shorts of hers accentuate her in all the right places.
"You got it, and do me a favor, please, and tell Mack that I'm here."
"So, it’s that kind of night, huh?" she asks and lays down a napkin to let the other girls know I've been helped.
"You don’t have to say it like that. I do have a title to uphold, you know."
I watch Kalie shake her head before she hurries off to place my order. I turn to the side and offer Mack a wave after I see she passes along my message. I feel myself relax as I look up and watch the sorry sacks of shit currently working off their stress.
"You're up next." Kalie smiles, setting down my beer. "Mack said he has a surprise for you,” she adds, and I turn back to Mack. "I'll be back in a minute with your wings!"
Mack tilts his head toward the end of the bar, and I follow it with my eyes. “Fuck.” I say aloud to myself when I see who he’s referring to. Even though it’s dark, I'd recognize those fuckers from a mile away. They’re the four figures who stood by and watched as I beat the shit out of their friend and broke his nose.
I roll my eyes and turn around in my seat. Lifting my beer, I take a big swig of it and sit back. Unfortunately, for them, I wasn’t even half as mad as I am tonight.
This . . . this is going to be a fun night.
chapter seventeen
BRIELLE
My tiny two-bedroom apartment is a sight for sore eyes, as I hurry up the steps and work to unlock the front door. Thankfully, Luca doesn't ask to stay when we pull up the driveway. After everything that’s happened, I think he knows I desperately just need some time alone.
I unlock the door and wave goodbye, then walk inside and allow myself a minute to cry, before I wipe the tears away and force myself to pull it together. I will not be one of those girls—the ones who cry over Theo Wescott. I've seen it happen too many times, and I always swore to myself that I would never be that girl.
No, instead, I'll bury myself in Pride and Prejudice and a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream. It’s what I always do. . . when Chad, my ex, cheated on me. . . when Mason died. . . when Theo left. I chose to give up pursuing English as my major so that I could get “a real career,” as my mom had advised. But at least I can still wallow the way I like—she hasn’t taken that yet.
I make it halfway through the book, when I hear a weird scratching noise coming from the front door. I roll off the couch, crouching behind it, to investigate, when Becks comes falling through the door, with Wes.
"Shh. . .! Brielle is sleeping!" she yells. "Follow me."
Well, at least someone had a good night.
I roll my eyes and shake my head, waiting until they’re tucked away in her room before I return to my spot on the couch. I definitely didn't want to take the chance of them seeing me. Talk about an awkward situation.
Drifting off somewhere in the middle. I wake up the next morning to Wes poking at my cheek, and I realize that I must have passed out on the couch. I blink my eyes open and choke back a scream when I see his all-too-cheerful grin staring back at me.
"Morning, B." He laughs, obviously amused at seeing my reaction.
B.? I think to myself, wondering what that’s all about.
"Damn! You're even mor
e gorgeous without makeup. Theo's a lucky guy."
I sit up and push the stray hairs back from my face.
"Thanks, but Theo and I aren't together." I offer a weak smile before I lean over to the table to grab my water from last night. I hear his feet shuffling around the corner, before I feel the couch slouch down beside me.
"What do you mean?"
Setting down my cup, I turn toward him.
Oh. My. God.
"Wes!" I shout when I find him sporting nothing but a pair of black boxers. His chest is glistening as if he’s just come from a morning run, and the length of him strains against the opening of his boxers while he sits there, watching me. "Put that thing away!"
My hand moves to cover my eyes.
This is not happening.
I did not just see Wes sporting a massive boner.
"Whoops. Sorry." He laughs, shrugging, as he reaches behind me for the pillow I slept on. "Morning wood."
I look away when my cheeks heat. "Um, anyway—" I drop my hand—"I mean, there’s no Theo and me. We're just friends."
Wes crinkles his nose. His hand moves to rest atop the pillow. Mental note to self: Wash the pillow.
"Does he know that?"
"Yes," I groan, leaning back against the cushion, and toss my hands up. "Although apparently, he already has too many. So maybe not. I don't really know anymore. He's confusing."
I look over when Wes bursts out laughing. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing, I just. . . you just. . ." he stumbles. "Theo is the most straightforward guy I know," he finally says. His hand musses up his blond hair even more as he stretches back along the arm of the couch. His leg accidentally bumps our coffee table. "He's more blunt than my nana . . . maybe you're not hearing him correctly?"
I tilt my head back and look up at the ceiling.
What the hell is going on around here?
Am I really talking about Theo with his best friend? While he’s practically naked, sitting next to me on my living room couch?
I slap my hand over my face.
Ugh, this has to be a dream.
"Look, all I'm saying is, maybe you two should sit down and talk." He smiles at me. "Who knows, you may even be surprised at what he has to say."
With You: With you, I am who I want to be. Page 13