"Hey, Bree," he says, smiling at her over Becks’s shoulder. His eyes are laser focused. "I saw you sit down, and I wanted to come over and say hi. We were all just about to head out."
He what?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I lean around him and spot a group of guys sitting not too far off to the corner. All of them are grinning from ear to ear. Damn it. I move my arm to the back of Brielle's chair. I can feel my nerves pricking along my skin as I wonder what exactly he—they—might have seen. Or for how long he chose to watch before deciding to come over.
I can tell by Brielle's expression that she’s wondering the same thing herself. Fuck. There goes dessert. I'm going to be getting an earful instead. "Oh, w-what happened to Joe's?"
"Tate got sick last week so we decided to change it up a bit."
"Awe, poor Tate. Well, how are—"
"Hey, are you still coming over for TVD next Saturday?" Becks interjects. She twists in her chair to look up at him, but he is making a point to keep his attention on Brielle.
What the fuck is he playing at . . . other than softball, apparently. I stifle a laugh when I see him in his little uniform. The tight gray bottoms, long white socks, and the baggy navy shirt. The fuck is this shit, high school? I didn't even know Luca knew how to do anything other than stalk Brielle.
Wait. Did she say, coming over?
"Yeah. That is if Brielle still wants me to?" He licks his lips and takes a step further into our private alcove. Four sets of eyes turn on me as we all wait to hear Brielle’s answer.
"Of course I do!"
Wait. "What?" I choose to interrupt.
"Theo, man, isn't that the night of your big fight?" Wes decides now, of all times, to pipe up. His expression is tight as he turns to the side and takes in Luca's appearance.
"Big fight?" Brielle purses her lips. The bubbly, playful side of her is completely gone now. "You're fighting again?"
I arch my brow and shrug. "I never stopped."
"Maybe I should just call you later, Bree?" Luca throws his hands up. "I would hate to interrupt your date."
What the fuck does that mean?
The better part of my mind begins to list all the reasons I should shut the fuck up and let Luca play out this moment. But it's too late for that. The stress of everything coming down all at once pushes me over the edge.
"Do you have something you want to say to me, Garrett?" I sit up in my seat.
"To you. . . always. But it wouldn't do much good now, would it?" He chuckles as a sly grin spreads across his face.
Fuck. So he did see us. That's what this is all about. He saw, and he wants me to know it. "If you’ve got something to say to me, say it." I feel Brielle's fingers curl around my fist. Her other hand settles on my thigh. I immediately take in a deep breath. "But you should leave before your boys have to carry you out."
"Okay—" Brielle waves her hands between us—"Luca, I'll just see you tomorrow in class, and we can discuss it then. Okay?"
I feel my pulse quickening as I watch the fucker nod. That fucking smirk is daring me to jump up and do something about it.
"Enjoy your dinner," he spits out before he turns around and joins his team.
The group of them are laughing as Luca rejoins them. What the fuck are they celebrating? Luca’s ability to hide behind my girl? Damn it. That's the second time I've let her talk me out of a fight. I promise it’ll be the last.
"What the fuck was all that about?" Becks crinkles her nose, her expression tight as she shakes her head. "I swear that boy needs to get laid."
"Yeah," Brielle answers automatically. The subtle disapproval in her is stirring something inside of me. "I'll, I'll talk to him."
The fuck? I choke. "Yeah, because you and him, alone, talking is really the best solution." I spit before I have the chance to think about what it is I'm saying.
"Excuse me?" Brielle turns to me. "What does that mean?"
"Oookay, so I'm thinking we could start with some calamari and maybe the-"
"Shut the fuck up, Wes." I glare at him.
"Don't talk to him like that!" Brielle snaps. Her body whips around to face me. I know she's fuming, but like I said, it's too late. I'm too far gone. "Can we talk about this later, please? When we're alone maybe?"
Is she serious?
"Talk about what, Brielle? The fact that you have a habit of protecting Luca? Or that he still believes that there is something between the two of you?" I rub my hand along my jaw. My stubble is a little longer than usual.
"Theo, he's just a frie—"
"He's a crutch, and you fucking know it!" I yell. The look on her face is enough to break me. I hate yelling at her. But what the hell else can I do to get across to her? Let her lie to me? Again.
I reach in my pocket for my wallet.
"Where are you going? A-Are you leaving?"
“Yes, Brielle. That’s exactly what I’m doing.” I throw down a couple hundred-dollar bills. "Enjoy your meals."
I leave the table and immediately regret my decision to walk away from her. I hate seeing her so deflated. So disappointed. But how can she expect me to carry on, pretending to play nice, after that? She knows how I feel about him. Yet she wants to sit there and pretend that I’m the one overreacting?
No, thank you. I pull at my hair. Fuck, Luca. And fuck, my fucking father. If it's not one, it's the other. Nothing is ever easy.
I can feel my hands curl into fists as I remember how fucking cocky Luca looked, standing there with that conniving smirk pressed to his mouth. Of course he wasn’t afraid to speak out at me. He knows Brielle would never let me anywhere near him. The fucking coward. His intentions are only fueled by his own jealousy as he strikes just when my hands are tied.
I jump when I feel a pair of hands wrap around my bicep. The gentle way that they're holding on makes me smile. The anger already begins to resolve from my face as I turn to my side.
What the. . .?
"What the fuck do you want?" I take a step back and break her hold on my arm. The short, brunette hostess with chocolate-brown eyes stares up at me.
"I saw you were upset." She smiles seductively. My eyes trail down her body as they come up and find a tongue sliding across her perfectly glossed lips. Don’t get me wrong; she is hot and looks like she has a mouth that could swallow a cock whole. But she isn't Brielle. "I wanted to make sure you were all right. No one should be alone when they're hurting."
I shake my head. Fuck, she's good. "Sorry, not interested," I say. My feet carry me over to the bench, and I throw myself down. "I'm with someone." At least, I think I am.
The girl walks over and sits beside me. "You don't look like you're with someone. You look lonely."
I arch my brow. Is this girl serious? "Look, you're hot and all. But I've got enough problems to deal with." I turn my head away from her. "I don't need a meaningless fuck to add to it. Besides, as I said, I'm with someone."
I hear her sigh and lean back against the bench. "It looks to me like you're unhappy. Would she really be angry with you for doing something that makes you feel better? Do you love her?"
What the fuck? I must be losing my edge if this girl thinks that she can talk to me like this? So openly. This bitch is nosier than Eliza.
I sit up and lean toward her, watching as she matches me. She licks her lips and her mouth parts. I wait until I know I have her full attention before I speak. I pace my words slowly so that I don't have to repeat myself. "Do yourself a favor and learn to take a hint. Desperation never looks good on anyone."
I watch her mouth drop.
What?
No comeback?
"Theo?" It’s then that I catch a familiar voice in the wind. I squeeze my eyes shut. "I knew it."
Fuck.
I blink my eyes back open to see the hostess-bitch smiling at me. I can only imagine what this must look like. Immediately, I stand and take a step away from the bench. My hands push into the pockets of my jeans as I narrow my eyes at the brune
tte. I can't catch a break.
"It's not what it looks like."
"Oh, so you weren’t about to kiss her?" Brielle raises her voice. She's pissed, and understandably so. I don't even know what I would do if it were me who caught her sitting as close to a random guy as I had been with this girl. "God, I can't believe I thought that you could change."
"Wait, Brielle." I rush after her as she starts walking toward the street. "I didn't do anything. I told her I was with someone."
"Yeah, it really looked like it," she snaps and picks up the pace. Damn, for someone with such short legs, she can really move. "God, you know, Luca was right. You’re such an asshole. I don’t know why I thought this time could be any different."
Wait. What the fuck did she just say? I reach out and grasp her wrist and pull her around to face me. "You don't mean that."
"Get the hell off me, Theo! Just let me go!"
"No!"
Brielle uses her free hand to push against my chest, but just as it's about to hit, I grab it and spin her around inside my arms.
“Let go, Theo.”
"Will you just listen to me, please," I'm begging her. Maybe I should stop, take this as a sign, and let it play out. In the long run, it would be easier for the both of us if we ended things here—with her hating me. I could live with that.
"Fine. Talk then,” she snaps, settling inside my arms.
I drop my arms and take a step back. My eyes sweep the parking lot where I can see we've earned some attention. From the corner of my eye, I catch three guys funnel out from the bar. They make their way to the bench and shift nervously back and forth, assessing the situation. Fuck, if they come over here, things are going to get ugly quick.
"Look, I know how it looked, but I would never do that to you. I love you."
"Can you just. . . just take me home? Please."
I lift my eyes, waiting to see Becks’s and Wes's judgmental glares, but they're not here.
"Wes and Becks?"
"They're going to stay."
I nod, not wanting to risk pissing her off again, and say, “Okay, let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later, we pull into her driveway. Hopping off the bike the second we stop, she hands her helmet to me and then heads to her door. I screw my eyes shut.
"Brielle, just wait a minute.”
"It's fine. I'm . . . fine, Theo. Just go home."
I roll my eyes and shake my head as I follow her, taking on the steps two at a time. The idea that I was chasing her not even twenty-four hours ago—for a very different reason—not lost on me. Only this time, I'm afraid she won't be so easily be persuaded to listen.
I reach her front door and find Brielle fumbling with her keys. Tears line her cheeks in streaks.
"That's not going to happen, babe." I reach out to touch her shoulder. "I couldn't leave even if I wanted to."
"Were you going to kiss her? Honestly." Brielle asks, and I watch as she turns around and slowly shakes her head. The hurt flashing behind her eyes is hard to see. Like a wound, I feel a subtle pang rip through my chest. I drop my eyes to the ground and arch my brow.
Does she really think I'd risk what we have over a random bitch?
"Do you really think I'd do that to you?"
"I don't know what I think." She wipes her cheek. Her eyes fall to my chest. "All I know is that I came outside to check on you because I wanted to find out why you’re fighting again. And I saw you practically moving in on the hostess."
“I didn’t kiss her!” I yell. “And sorry to burst your bubble, but I’ll never be done fighting—whether it’s in the ring or outside of it. I can’t just walk away clean.”
“What does that even mean? Why can’t you stop?”
I reach up and tuck a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear before I drop my hand to my side. "What did you think would happen, Brielle? That my father was just going to let me walk away? It doesn’t work that way. Forget Knock Out. If I quit doing what I do for my father, make no mistake, he’ll come after me."
“But he’s your father!”
“Yeah, well, after twenty-four year’s worth of abuse, something tells me that doesn’t mean anything to him.”
She takes a step back and rolls her eyes. "Fine. You want to fight, then fight. But stop throwing Luca in my face. He’s just a friend. You need to trust me."
"Like you trust me?"
Damn it. I didn’t mean that.
Brielle scoffs and turns back to the door. "Goodnight, Theo."
"Look, I didn't mean that. You just . . . you have to think about it from my point of view." I spin her back around. God, she's infuriating tonight. "How did it feel when you thought I’d kissed that other girl?"
"That's not the same and you know it! There’s nothing to worry about. Luca isn’t the problem!" she yells. “It’s you. . . and how the second things don’t go your way, you instantly revert back to your old ways. Or . . . is this just who you are?”
"Are you for real right now? What is it with you and him? You can’t really be this blind,” I snap at her, finally feeling my anger coming to a head. She literally told me that they kissed early this summer. How the hell is she going to sit here and tell me that I have nothing to worry about? “And by the way, I may be lashing out, but it’s not because of the reasons you think. I’m not the one afraid of doing what’s necessary here, you are.”
“Excuse me?”
“Look, I’m done. I can't do this with you. You need to choose—Luca or me. You can't have us both."
"Are you seriously giving me an ultimatum?"
I run my teeth over my bottom lip and bite it. Am I?
"Yes." Because at least if it ends here and now, I’ll know where I stand with her.
"No!"
"No?" I shake my head. "What the hell do you mean, no?"
Brielle turns back to the door and opens it. "I mean, no. Theo, I'm not going to choose. Luca is like family to me. I won't just give him up."
"Fuck, Brielle. He doesn't see it that way. He loves you."
"That doesn't mean that I should just write him off!"
I take a step back, feeling the cold tone of her words, like a slap to my face. "Well, if that’s how you feel, then I guess I got my answer."
She drops her bag to the floor. Her breath catches every so often as she waits for a second before turning around.
Fuck this. Fuck love. And fuck this feeling. For once, I can’t even blame my father for being the reason that I have to leave Brielle. Because for once, she made the decision for me. She chose Luca. He’s the one she wants more. The one she needs.
"I can’t do this anymore. All I’ve done is let you in." The heaviness of it all is severe. This is a whole new kind of pain.
“I love you, Brielle. But I refuse to share you.”
chapter thirty-four
THEO
It’s been fifteen minutes since my father arrived with Mr. Overshire, and already my patience is wearing thin. His incessant bitching to have the meeting take place at Haze was nearly enough to make me call off the whole thing in the first place. Besides that, I know who's working the bar tonight. Becks. The last thing I need is for her to convince Brielle that she should come out and her see me—with Katrina, no less—and then turn around and do something, trying to get a rise out of me.
I run my hands over my face, then push them through my hair. Damn it, I’m on edge. It’s been a week since I gave her the ultimatum, since she chose Luca over me. I feel like I’m going through withdrawal. I clench my hands into fists and squeeze them. Jesus. I need this night to be over. I need to get my ass to Knock Out, or I’m going to blow up at someone.
I cut my eyes over to Katrina who, surprisingly, hasn't spoken a word to me, and find her blue eyes miles away. I feel my fingers dig into the leather chaise of one of the club’s more private VIP balconies. My mind is yelling at me to simply let her be but I can't. The last time I saw her, we both said some pretty hurtful things. In my defense, I had just been sta
bbed, lost a lot of blood, and was drowning in some pretty expensive tequila. But still, she didn't deserve it.
"No. Absolutely not!" I hear my father's voice catch in the forefront of my mind as I slowly make my way over to where Katrina’s standing. I practically drag my feet so as to not draw my father's eye. I know how he can be when he gets in one of his moods, and I am definitely not in the right mind space to handle it tonight. In fact, after everything he pulled with Brielle, he's lucky I even showed up to this shit show. The only reason I did is because it would only cause more problems if I hadn't.
"Don't make an enemy out of me, Tom. You know that's a bullshit excuse," my father’s voice snaps again.
I roll my eyes. Fucking pathetic, both of them. How the hell these two plan on being partners blows my fucking mind. Neither of them wants to budge on their offer. Honestly, I don't understand why my father is trying so hard in the first place. It's not like he can't find someone else to take his place. Someone more cooperative. At this rate, we'll be here all night.
Well, not me.
I raise my brow. All it took was one call to Mack, and now my evening just became a whole lot more interesting. It’ll be a fun warm-up for tomorrow’s big fight. I heard the kid I’m up against is actually pretty good. “Trained by Alfred Alonzo,” I hear Wes’s obnoxious voice troll through my mind. Whatever that means. All I know is it’ll be fun to go up against someone who can potentially give it back as good as he gets. He’s going to lose—don’t get me wrong—but I’ll make it worth the overhead it costs to get in.
A certain blonde has left me with more than one demon to face. Why the hell I chose to fall in love with someone who is so damn strong-willed surprises even me. Maybe Mason was the only one smart enough to see the truth. Luca is the better choice. The girl may be my weakness, but she tests me in ways I never knew possible—ways that no amount of change could ever make me good enough to deserve her.
I reach Katrina at the same time that her father reaches for his phone. His chubby, little fingers poke at the screen as he feverishly yells at someone on the other line. I swear the man looks like a damn leprechaun, with his bald head and that god-awful wispy, red beard. His short stature is an oddity compared to Katrina, who must get her looks from her mother.
With You: With you, I am who I want to be. Page 25