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

by Jensen Kristyne

  I squint my eyes at him. My mind questions why he’s grinning, but before I can ask what he’s hiding, Becks barrels out of her room.

  "Hey, what happened to ‘just grabbing some water’?" She arches her brow at him as she lunges over the back of the couch and falls between us.

  I pinch my eyes closed when I find Becks is equally as naked as he is. "God, will you two please go put some clothes on?" I laugh, because, really, this is more of the two of them than I ever want to see.

  "Tempting—" Wes smacks his lips—"But I think I'd rather let Becks take some more off, first."

  "Only if I get to do it with my teeth," she says.

  Though my eyes are still closed, I know Becks is smiling. The cushions shift beneath me, which leads me to assume they stood up. I listen to the shuffle of their footsteps until they’re far enough away and then I drop my hand from my eyes.

  "So, uh, yeah. . . I have a few errands to run. I'll see y'all later," I call out to them just before Becks’s bedroom door slams shut. There’s no way I’m going to stay here with all the sex going on. God knows what I might witness next.

  I shake my head and push up off the couch.

  I need to listen, I hear Wes's voice inside my head.

  What does that even mean?

  Of course, I listened to Theo; he was pretty clear about how he felt the whole night—pushing me away after our moment together, then flaunting Katrina in front of my face the next. Then he even had the nerve to tell me he didn't want to be my friend. I mean, maybe I am clueless, but I just don't see how else I could interpret any of those things.

  I hurry to my room and quickly change, before grabbing my keys and running out the door. I feel my phone go off in my lap and I flip it over. It’s Luca inviting me out to lunch at the mall. I shoot him a quick response, telling him I'd love to, then put the car into gear. Maybe a day out, shopping and hanging out with Luca, is exactly what I need.

  “Hey, Bree,” Luca calls out to me from the back booth, as I smile and work my way around the hostess stand.

  "Hey!" I smile at him, but it fades quickly after I arrive at the table and see his face. "Oh, my God, Luca." I reach out and cup his chin. "Your face looks terrible today. How are you feeling?"

  He tosses his hand in front of him and nudges me to take a seat. "It's really not that bad." He laughs, but I can tell it's an act. "I'm glad you could make it. I was worried you might be mad at me."

  I tilt my head and flash him a look. "I'm not mad." I pick up my menu. My mouth is already watering as I look at the daily specials. "I mean, you and Theo definitely took things way too far last night but I'm not mad. Just—"

  "Good God, please don't say disappointed."

  I drop my menu and choke back a laugh. "I was going to say hungry." I feel my lips betraying me as a small smile escapes them. "I'm just really hungry."

  "Oh, well, good." He smiles and sits back. "I was worried you might say disappointed." He pushes his menu back and forth with his finger along the tabletop.

  "Well I'm not.."

  "Good."

  "Good." I offer him a playful wink; my sour mood from earlier quickly evaporates.

  "So want to hear about the newest upgrade I did to my car?" he ask, launching himself forward in his seat.

  "Luca, don't take this the wrong way," My tone is light as I lean my arms against the table. "But unless your car has magically been upgraded into a food truck . . . let's not talk about it until after we eat. My brain needs fuel before I can even begin to think about processing your car talk."

  He lets out a hearty laugh, then picks up his water.

  "Deal."

  We barely finish our meal, when Luca launches into the conversation about his cat back exhaust system—or whatever the heck he called it. After lunch we decide to finally go see that movie we had planned to a couple weeks ago.

  Once the movie is over, Luca offers to escort me to my car. "I had fun today!" I smile up at Luca, pulling him into a hug; the soft material of his jacket brushes against the side of my face. "Thank you for walking me to my car. I needed this."

  Luca reaches his arm up to take my hand, uncoiling it from around his arm and spins me playfully. "Anytime. I love our day dates."

  Day dates?

  Love?

  I offer another weak smile before turning toward my driver’s-side door. There's that word, again: love. He's used it all day. I bite my lip and try not to unintentionally read more into things. A part of me really wishes that I could feel something for Luca. By every definition, he is the perfect guy—he's loyal, dependable, doesn't lie or fight.

  He's the complete opposite of everything Theo represents, and I know he’s who Mason wanted me to be with, but no matter how many times I try, there’s always something holding me back. I even went as far as letting him kiss me a few months ago, but there was nothing behind it. It's nothing like the way I feel when Theo's kissed me. We’re just better as friends than anything more. Why is it so hard for me to say the words, ‘We’re friends, Luca. Nothing more.”

  Is it guilt?

  Hope?

  Luca stops me from leaving just as my fingers brush the cool metal of the door handle. So close. I let go and turn around.

  Please don’t make me do this.

  Staring up at him, the sky is dark now as the harsh security lights of the parking lot cast shadows across his face. I can see something building behind those baby-blue eyes of his, but no matter how much I try, his expression is unreadable. My lips part to ask him what he’s thinking, when out of the blue, my phone starts vibrating hastily in my pocket.

  I stumble back and quickly fish it out, watching Luca side-eye me. "Uh, sorry." I crinkle my nose up at him. "It's probably Becks wondering where I am."

  “No. You’re fine.”

  I tap the screen, and sure enough, Becks’s name appears. I unlock my phone. "Oh crap," I say aloud.

  "What's wrong?"

  I use my finger to scroll down the notification log; a crippling feeling washes over me when I see Becks's name is listed almost a dozen times. In each of the messages, she tells me to hurry and go to Haze. I bite my lip.

  "Becks needs me at Haze." I know that’s probably the last thing Luca wants to hear.

  "What? Why the hell would she ask you to go there?"

  I squint my eyes when I hear the aggressive tone to his words. I press my lips into a thin line and open the door.

  "I don't know, but whatever her reason is, it must be important. Becks never blows me up like this. I'm sorry, but I have to go."

  “Brielle, hold on. You . . . you’re way too worried to drive. Let me take you. Besides, if Becks is in trouble, maybe I can help."

  A small smile breaks my lips.

  “What?”

  "Nothing. I just never thought I’d see the day where you would offer to help Becks, willingly?" I nudge him playfully with my elbow.

  He leans over me, his face unreadable, and I hold my breath. "I care more than you think."

  chapter eighteen

  BRIELLE

  We pull into the back of Haze, like Becks requested, and I hop out while Luca parks my car. I'm surprised when I find the back door is cracked, and no one is around or waiting for me. I sweep my eyes around the half-empty lot, slowly edging my way inside.

  "Hello," I call out as I step into the dark hall. I can see the lights from the dance floor flashing far off in the distance; the sounds of drunken stupor are barely audible.

  Oh, yeah.

  This isn’t creepy.

  Not at all.

  If my father were here, he’d scold me for hours about going inside without backup. Moments like this are what scary movies are derived upon. I can just see it now—the opening scene where the blonde girl dies because she was too worried for her friend, to wait on the guy parking the car.

  I take a couple of steps toward the lights, when Becks appears out of nowhere from Theo's office. Her knee-high, black boots, and silver-sequined dress, flashier t
han a 1970’s disco ball. I blink through the darkness and try to focus on her face. Even in this light, I can tell by her expression that she’s on edge. Her lips are pursed, and her eyes are wide. She’s as pale as a ghost.

  "There you are!" she’s yells, the high-pitched tone of her voice pierces the back of my eardrums. "What the hell took you so long?"

  "Sorry. I was with Luca? Why? What's wrong?

  She reaches out and takes my hand, dragging me behind her and into the office. The massive swarm of bodies parading around the room shroud the area in a thick heat.

  What the hell is this?

  "Becks, what’s going on in—”

  I feel an arm snake around my waist as a sweat-soaked ape of a man pulls me into the crook of his arm. "Sorry, gorgeous, but the owner isn't up for guests tonight."

  Guests?

  I wrinkle my nose in disgust. His musky cologne is almost as potent as his body odor.

  "Back the hell off, Eddie. Trust me. We need her." Becks whips her ponytail around and scolds the guy. He flashes her a blurred expression.

  "Okay, Becks, it’s time to start talking."

  "Everyone out!"

  I look around, when I hear Wes scream from somewhere further inside the room. Becks pulls me to a wall as it slowly empties. The chaos of people clamoring to get out reminds me of a hoard of zombies from one of Luca’s favorite movies.

  When the room is clear, I’m surprised to find Theo slouched back in his chair, with a bottle of whiskey in hand. His eyes are glossy, and his hair is a disheveled mess—more than it usually is. I shake my head, feeling my nerves swell up inside my chest when I see that familiar, distant look cross over his face. He's clearly wasted.

  I let out a long breath and look down in front of him. That would explain the slew of iced waters covering his desk like a bad display of paperweights.

  "What’s going on?" I ask as Becks and I watch Wes scroll mindlessly through Theo’s phone. His eyes shift over the screen in a nervous manner.

  “We need you to talk some sense into Theo.”

  Talk some sense into Theo?

  “What? Theo doesn’t listen to me.”

  "Sure, he does." Becks turns around and sucks in her bottom lip. "But even if he doesn't, we . . . Wes and I . . . we need you."

  "What? Why?"

  "Well, don't freak out," she begins, her hands folding over one another continuously.

  Okay, now I’m scared. Becks is seriously freaking out. I haven’t seen her this wound up in a long time.

  "Theo's been sta—."

  "The fuck is she doing here?"

  The two of us turn when we hear Theo shout. The rest of the stragglers hurry out of the room. The sound of the door slamming shut is deafening. Wes and Becks immediately avert their eyes, which is never a good sign. As long as I've known Becks, she has never been scared of anyone or anything.

  I watch as Theo tries to stand, but he stumbles and falls back in his seat. Wow, he must really be drunk. I silently prepare myself. I've only ever seen drunk Theo a handful of times before, and it's never pretty. I can't imagine this new version of him being any nicer.

  "I asked a question!” His eyes dart between Wes and Becks. When neither of them answers, he twists his chair to face me. “You need to leave. Now!" he barks. His words echo offthe glass window, and it rattles within the frame. If I didn't know Theo would never hurt me, I might have cringed.

  What am I doing here again?

  I turn to Becks. "Yeah, I’m gonna go . . ."

  "Yeah, you should!" Theo continues to yell as he works himself into a half-standing, half-leaning position, and rounds the side of his desk. "Unless there's something else you want to lie to me about?"

  "Lie to you?" I press my lips into a hard line. "What the hell are you . . ." But I stop when I see it. The deep red stain that covers the entire side of his plain, white T-shirt. I point to it and say, “You’re bleeding.”

  “Yeah, that’s usually what happens when you get stabbed.” Theo chuckles. I fail to see the humor in it, and before I know what I'm doing, I run to him.

  "What the hell is wrong with you? How are you so calm?" I yell.

  I'm trying to push up the side of his shirt so that I can get a closer look, but it's molded to his skin. I pull my hands away, tears welling up inside my eyes, when I find they're soaked in his blood.

  “What the hell is going on? Why hasn't anyone called for an ambulance or something?"

  "Brielle . . ."

  I feel myself start to spiral. "W-wait a second. Let me think! Becks, I need something to apply pressure with."

  "Brielle . . ."

  “Wes, stop scrolling and dial 9-1-1!”

  “Brielle!”

  "No!" I whip my head back around and blink away the tears. All I can think is that it’s happening. Again. My mind is racing with images of Mason and the gunshot wound that tore through him and left a gaping wound that would forever scar my family.

  "No! I can't lose anyone else."

  "Whoa. No, hey," Theo whispers and reaches down to fold his fingers around my one wrist as the other pushes into my hair. His demeanor has completely shifted as he leans into me. "Shh. No, don't cry, baby. I'm fine. It's only a little blood."

  Only a little blood? I yell at him inside my head.

  I can feel the slight sway in his stance as he holds on to me, and suddenly I worry he might pass out.

  "Theo, this is not a little blood. What the hell happened? And why are you so drunk?"

  Wes looks to Theo for approval and Theo nods. "It was that asshole from the bar. Apparently, he didn’t take too kindly to Theo breaking his nose a few weeks back. So, he’s had his friends patrolling Knock Out for payback, and when dummy over here decided to show up last night, they jumped him. Well, at least, they tried to." Wes frowns, his expression heavy. “I found him like this when I came to get the club ready for opening.”

  “Okay. Did you call the police?” I ask. “I can call my dad. I’m sure he would—”

  "No, Brielle, you can’t." Wes shakes his head, looking back down at the phone. "Trust me, they got what they deserved."

  "Jesus. Can everyone just calm down? I’ll be fine. It’s just a scratch," Theo says. His hands move to wrap his side as if to try to alleviate some of the strain.

  Some scratch. . .

  As if reading my thoughts, Theo sighs, and slowly makes his way to the leather chaise. "Look, it happens. I just didn't see the asshole had a knife until he was already on me.""I can't handle this. I'm calling the police."

  "Brielle, just, come here," Theo whines, motioning for me to come to him. "Wes is working on calling my private doctor. So, you don't have to worry. It's nothing that hasn't happened before."

  Come again?

  “I am?” Wes asks, seeming relieved.

  Is that why they wanted me here?

  To convince Theo to see his doctor?

  I squint my eyes up at him and tilt my head. The usual rich green of his own is washed out. I feel like I should do something, but I’m still stuck on the "this has happened before."

  "Just hurry up and dial before he changes his mind," Becks mumbles under her breath. Her voice rips me from Theo's gaze. She lets out a small laugh and turns to me. "I'm just glad you're here now. Being the voice of reason is not my strong suit, especially with a patient with as thick of a head as Theo’s." She quickly fixes her hair, tossing it back into a small bun. "Plus, I am not good with blood."

  "It’s ringing," Wes calls out to the room before walking past me. I hear the phone rings once before an older sounding man answers it. "Yes, hello. I'm calling for Theo Wescott," Wes begins, his voice surprisingly steady for someone who just found their best friend stabbed. "He's, uh, sick . . .? Oh . . . yup, that’s it. Stabbed, yes. Where? Right side."

  I turn toward Becks and am happy to see that she is equally as shocked as I am about this whole thing. "I, uh, I'm going to step out for a minute," I whisper to no one in particular, and quickly turn toward t
he door.

  I walk a step before I feel myself begin to crumble and decide to lean against the wall. Focus, Brielle, I tell myself. My mind is running through a mental checklist of things I can do to keep myself busy.

  He's not going to die. “It’s just a scratch,” Theo’s obnoxious words tumble through my mind, and I cling to them.

  Those waters looked old; I'll just go grab another. I have to keep myself busy, or I'm going to lose it.

  He's not going to die, I remind myself again.

  I run to the server’s station and grab a couple of glasses of water. I sure hope he has enough coasters for all of these. I would hate to leave water stains all over his desk.

  I turn around and freeze midstep. My hands rock forward as one of the glasses threatens to spill and I swallow hard, trying to force down the knot that’s formed in my throat, when I'm met by two sets of blue eyes.

  A slight pang of guilt resonates in my stomach as I watch a pissed-off Katrina, and a confused Luca giving me a wide-eyed stare. "Oh, hey." I look down and see that I’m still covered in Theo's blood. "Thirsty?"

  chapter nineteen

  BRIELLE

  Gross. I’m good." Katrina shrugs, crossing her arms in front of her as she stares openly in disgust. Her bright red heels, stamp beneath her as she rocks back on the heel.

  I nod, turning back toward the server’s station and set down the three glasses.

  A simple no would have sufficed.

  I barely manage to get them on the counter before Luca rushes up to me. "What the hell, Brielle! Is this your blood?" he asks, his breath beating against my neck. He moves his hands, tugging on the lower edges of my own shirt, but I gently stop him.

  "No. It's, um. . ." I nervously twist out of his grip. My eyes shift up to Katrina as I step in front of her. "It's not my blood. It's Theo's," I give her the answer as if she had been the one with the question.

  They may not be boyfriend and girlfriend, but they obviously have something between them, especially since Theo likes to throw her in my face any chance he gets. I can only imagine how I would be feeling if I were in her shoes, seeing me like this when I first heard the news.