“You okay?” Luca asks. His hand reaches out to rub a small circle across my back.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, when a question appears. And even though I wish I could ignore it, I can’t. "Luca, are you in love with me?"
He clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. I can see it in his face that I've startled him. "Please, just be honest with me," I beg. My mind prays that he says no.
"You really want to know?" He drops his head. His fingers are mindlessly twisting a single piece of popcorn.
"I do."
"Okay, fine." I watch as he leans forward and sets the bowl down on the table. "Yes. I do I love you."
No. No. No. You can't love me!
It's then that the pain I feel in my chest magnifies a thousand times. "Shit." I pinch my eyes shut.
"Brielle? Are you. . . did you just—"
"Luca, listen to me." I shake my head. "You can't be in love with me."
He arches his brow. "I'm sorry. What?"
"I said—"
"No. I heard you; I just don't understand. Where this is coming from?"
"From nowhere. Everywhere." I shrug my shoulders. My fingers are working my temples as I try to find the words that I know he needs to hear—the truth. "Luca, I . . . I'm in love with, Theo."
"Okay," he groans. "And why are you telling me this?"
Ugh . . . I wasn’t expecting that.
"Because you deserve to know the truth."
The air grows thick as I watch him sit there. He sighs as his eyes shift erratically.
"Thanks . . . I guess." His shoulders sag. and his expression is distant. "I mean, I figured as much." He drops his head again. "I kind of, sort of, well, . . . I saw you last weekend. The two of you."
I crinkle my nose while I pull my legs under me to sit up. "Yeah, I know. You came over to say hi."
"No." He rubs the back of his neck. "I . . . um . . . I saw you—saw him and what he did to . . . with you. You know, under the—"
"Oh God." I cover my face. Nope. No. This is not happening! I'm going to kill, Theo.
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry," I say. My lips press into a thin line as I wish, not for the first time, the couch would open up and swallow me whole—Anything to get away from how awkward this moment has become.
"No. Don't." He scoots toward the edge of the couch. His hands folding over one another continuously. "I don't want your pity."
“Wait. The whole team was with you! They didn’t . . . did they—”
“No! God no.” He shakes his head. “I mean, we all saw you walk in together. But they were all too busy talking shit about the game to notice that.”
I feel a weird form of relief knowing that Luca was the only one to see, when the ability to use my lungs returns to me. I inhale a breath and let it go."Luca, I'm sorry—not that I did it." I can see that wasn't what he had been expecting me to say. "But that you had to find out just how close we’ve become like that."
Theo was right.
I can't have them both. At least, not right now. There's just too much history, and too many emotions to consider. I know that no matter who I choose, someone is going to get hurt. It's not fair for me to shove a new relationship in Luca's face, when I know he'll be struggling. I need to choose.
I stand and begin to make my way toward the bathroom. My mind is already trying to funnel all the ways that tonight could blow up in my face. But I have to try. The one thing I know, without a shadow of a doubt, is that I am not ready to give up the chance to be with Theo.
"Brielle . . . hey! Where are you going?" Luca calls out behind me. I hold my breath as his voice echoes off the walls.
"I'm sorry, but I've got to go!" I yell from the hallway.
"You can't be serious." And just like that, he's on his feet. "Brielle, he's not a good person. What the hell is it going to take for you to see that?"
I brush some powder on my face, then run my mascara over my eyelashes. I eye Becks's black, leather leggings and the matching leather coat. I close the door and slip them on. The leggings fit like an extra skin, but I know that if Becks were here, she would approve. Well, mostly. I bite my lip and stare down at my converse. I need better shoes.
I cross the hall into Becks’s room. My eyes immediately locate a pair of black heels with red soles. I eye their height. Okay, I can do this. Becks is always bragging about how these are her lucky shoes. I step into them. Hm . . . I guess we'll see just how lucky they really are.
"What the hell are you wearing?" Luca whines as I walk into the living room. He lets his eyes trail down the length of me as I walk over and grab my purse. "Are you trying to attract the wrong kind of attention?"
Excuse me?
"Luca, that's not what this is about." I head to the door, choosing to ignore him. I know he’s hurting. "I don't expect you to understand why I feel the way I do. Hell, I don't even understand it." I shrug, frozen in place, as his face twists in anger. "But if you were truly my friend, and if you truly care about my happiness, then you would understand why I need to leave now. And if not, then . . . well . . . then I guess I'll understand that too."
I open the door, but my feet refuse to move.
"Luca, I don't know what I'll do if I lose you," I whisper from across the room. My fingers grip the door as I keep my eyes focused in front of me. "But I can't let what I have with Theo pass me by because I'm too afraid to take risks. He makes me happy."
I muster up the courage to glance back at him before I head towards my car. On the way, I notice an unmarked car parked out front. Hector and another guy are seated up front. What the . . .? I get in my car and start it, when I feel my phone go off. Pulling it from my pocket, I see a text from Becks.
Enjoy the make-up sex. :)
I knit my brows and quickly type a response.
What?
I watch the tiny dots dance along the screen, until Becks must have given up because she calls me.
“Hey, you two made up yet?” she immediately asks. The cheery tone to her voice makes me smile.
“Becks, what the hell are you talking about?”“Shit. He must not have made it there yet. I wonder where he’s at?”
At the risk of being disappointed, I feel the need to ask, “Theo?”
“Yeah,” she says, and I can tell she’s smiling. “When he came down, we talked, and then he left, headed your way.”
I turn back to see Hector, waiting in his car when I feel the knots in my stomach twist uncomfortably. Oh no. No. No. No. Did he see . . .? “Shit, Becks. I think I messed up.”
“What? Why? What happened?” she asks, and I hurry, filling her in on the kiss with Luca, and everything since. She gasps, “Oh shit. That has to be it. He must have shown up, saw Luca kiss you, and then stormed off. God Luca is such an ass. I’m surprised Theo didn’t kick down the door and kill him right then.” She laughs. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I answer her, honestly. Because I don’t.
A part of me wishes Theo had kicked through the door, because, at least then I’d be able to explain the situation to him. But the fact that he simply left means that seeing Luca and me kissing may have broken whatever final straw he had left. What if I’ve lost him forever?
I look down at the outfit I’m wearing and strangely the answer appears. “Actually . . . maybe I have one idea.”
“Really? What? How are you going to find him if you don’t know where he is?”
“I know where he’ll be tomorrow.”
“Brielle, no. I don’t know if that’s—”
“It’ll be fine.” I feel a smile spread across my lips as I get out of the car and make a point to wave at Hector.
The truth is, I don’t know what happened—what Theo saw, or didn’t see—I only know that Hector is here. Which means that even while he’s pissed at me, Theo still cares about my safety. I swear, he can be just as bad as my father sometimes. I mean, I don’t know why or what must have happened tonight for him to think
that I needed the protection. And in this moment, I can’t think about that. All I care about is the fact that Theo still cares.
“I’ve got to go, Becks. But I’ll see you tomorrow!”
chapter thirty-seven
THEO
Two swigs into my bourbon, and I can taste my blood marrying with the subtle notes of caramel. Fuck. I wipe my mouth on my forearm. The beaded remnants of blood streak a line down my arm. I let out a chuckle, well aware of how crazy I must look, and step back into the ring. The sound of my heartbeat pounds behind my ears as I lock eyes with this no-named asshole. It's about damn time. I shake out my hands. Mack finally found someone worthy of my time.
"Fuck. You just don't quit, do you?" My opponent stares wide-eyed at me. "Just stay the fuck down, and I might take it easy on you."
Easy? I almost laugh. Who said I wanted easy? I spit, blood splattering at my feet, and roll my shoulders. This is the best kind of medicine you can get without a prescription.
"Easy?" I point a glove at the display board behind us where my name is legible in bold letters. This poor, dumb fuck. He doesn't even know that this fight hasn't even started yet. I'm merely warming up. I could have ended it right from the start, but then . . . where's the fun in that?
"Whatever, man." He shrugs, stepping up to meet me. "It's your funeral."
I fake a punch to his gut, which I know he'll easily be able to dodge, and am met with a knee to the gut. I hit the mat. My hands are flat against the ground. "Ah, come on." I laugh and work my way up to one knee. "Don't start holding back on me now."
I cough. My lungs aching, my ribs burning, and stand. I feel something brush my stomach, so I drop my eyes to my waist. My fingers wrap the bandage barely hanging on and pull it the rest of the way off. I crinkle my nose and toss it aside. I know I should probably stop—knock this asshole on his back. But, fuck it. Unlike these assholes, I don't fight for bragging rights or glory. I fight to see through all the bullshit. To clear my head. I fight to feel the pain.
"Fuck, you're crazy," the guy hedges.
Eh, I guess that's a fair assessment. I've been called worse.
"I- is that a stab wound?"
I nod, and just for fun, I say, "You should see the other guy."
Okay. . . so maybe I like to brag a little bit.
Tired of talking, he slams his fist into my ribs, and I wince. The pain ripples across my chest and knocks the breath out of me. This time when I hit the mat, I don't get up right away. I clutch my abdomen, and I roll off to the far side, coughing and sputtering as I try to catch my breath.
I'm not sure how much time passes, or when I first put two and two together. But eventually, the haze clears, and I'm met with the most brilliant pair of emerald-green eyes. Brielle? No. No, no. It couldn't be. I shake my head, trying to clear my mind, when I see that she is, in fact, here.
What the hell is she doing here? I narrow my eyes in her direction, half choking at the sight of her. Her petite frame slowly makes her way through the crowd until she settles at an empty seat at the bar. Her hair is down, and that outfit . . .
"What the fuc—"
"What? No jokes?" I hear the guy spit out before he rushes over. His fist slams into my cheek. The sound of the blow echoes inside my head. "I guess it's time for a new name to head that board of yours."
Okay. I'm sufficiently warmed up. I crack my neck, raising my hand to brush my fingers across my cheek. The burning sensation I feel tells me that he broke the skin. When the ringing stops, I pull up onto my knees. Damn it. I let out a breath. That was a cheap shot. Bad move, kid. I glare at him for a moment.
I turn my attention back to the bar and catch myself doing a double take. My eyes soak in the scene currently playing out where Brielle is wiggling in her seat as some fucker in a damned suit tries whispering in her ear. Fucking hell. I roll my eyes, feeling my blood start to boil. Other than the fact that he chose Brielle to hit on, what kind of sick bastard wears a suit to a place like this?
I tear my eyes away from my girl—I mean, Brielle—as the sound of feet shuffling forces me back into the fight. Again, with the petty, cheap shit? Jesus. This guy is such an asshole. I shake my head as my opponent lunges, swinging and missing. I quickly dodge him and clench my hand into a fist as I make contact with his face—payback for him hitting me when I was distracted. Dick move, kid.
Dick.
Move.
Enough of this bullshit. I sigh. It was fun while it lasted.
I wait until he lunges again. My arms then wrap around his waist, and I flip him onto his back. I bury my hands into him, over and over again, before he has the chance to defend himself. I step off and out of range the moment I see his hand tap and he concedes.
"Good fight, man," I call out to the poor bastard, who’s currently heaving back on the mat.
Guess I'll be keeping my title.
I grab my drink, down it, then dip under the ropes. I feel my lips tug to one side. That fight may be over, but bad news for suit guy . . . I still got a couple of demons needing to be absolved tonight.
"Oh, no thank you," I hear Brielle says to the guy.
His perfectly unmarred face is locked on my girl as he stutters trying to come up with a response. The drool practically dripping from this fucker's mouth tells me that he’s way out of his league. But, then again, so am I.
Brielle is an angel. Even . . . though . . . shit. I lick my lips. My mind loses its train of thought as my eyes follow the curves of her body. I force myself to shut my mouth.
Think, Theo. Think.
Pull your shit together.
I inhale a deep breath. She may be a fucking angel, but there is nothing angelic about the way she looks tonight.
I clear my throat to make myself known. The guy in the suit jerks around.
What the?
I cut my eyes between the two of them. Unfuckin’ believable. I almost laugh. It’s the fucking porcupine guy—I mean, Blake? The suit somehow makes so much more sense now. This guy’s always been a creep.
"Hey, man. Good fight."
I shake my head and laugh, mildly amused, as I turn to Brielle, then back to him. "Care to tell me why you’re talking to my girlfriend?"
Wait.
Girlfriend?
What the fu—
"Girlfriend?" The guy arches his brow at the word.
My mind mocks him and his accent. Brielle always did like accents. He looks to Brielle as if waiting for her to explain.
Don't look at her. Look at me, I want to scream.
"Um, no. Space between the words." Brielle sits up and rolls her eyes.
"Right." He reaches back behind him to grab his drink. I watch as he drops his head and moves to slide off the stool. Fucking pussy. "I think I'm just going to go." He shoots Brielle a look. "It was great to see you again."
"Bye." She's smiles as I stare after him.
Bye? "The fuck was that, Brielle?" I raise my voice as I watch the asshole join another group of guys by the far wall.
I turn around to the sound of Brielle's heels on the floor as she hops off the stool and starts towards the front door. I barely have time to process the fact that she’s leaving before she is already halfway to the door.
The fuck?
I grab a handful of napkins from the bar top and hurry after her as I try to wipe away some of the blood and sweat. Lord knows I'm slowly losing my damn mind. My eyes switch back and forth between the back of her head and the rest of her. Her ass and legs catch the eye of every guy she passes. Fuck, Brielle. I shake my head. She's lethal tonight.
She’s almost out the door, when a pair of guys start going at it in front of her. I rush up and throw myself in front of her when I feel something cold splash against my arm. I look back to see Brielle’s jacket sleeve is wet. A guy holding an empty pint glass is standing next to her. He moves to touch her, possibly to help her wipe off some of the beer, when the ice forming in my eyes stops him, daring him to touch her.
“It’s okay, Theo
,” she says. Her hand catches mine as she laces her fingers and holds it. “I’m fine. Go. I’m right behind you.”
“And take the chance of some drunk asshole grabbing your ass? Yeah, I’d rather not go to jail.” I motion for her to keep walking, and thankfully, she doesn’t argue. She just shakes her head without talking and walks out.
"Where do you think you're going?" I yell once we're outside, alone in the parking lot. I eye a trash can and quickly toss the napkins in it. Fuck. I’m probably scaring the hell out of her right now. I'd run from me too.
Did she really think I would just let her leave without any sort of explanation? She must have lost her damn mind. And what the hell is she thinking . . . coming to a place like this, dressed like that? And where are Wes and Becks? Shouldn’t she be sitting with them?
"Brielle," I call her name, but she ignores me. "Damn it. Will you just talk to me?"
I clasp her wrist and spin her around to face me. She takes a step back and jerks her arm from my grip. "I've told you to stop doing that!"
"Well, if you'd stop walking away from me, I wouldn't have to."
"Me? Walk away from you?" She laughs. "You mean, like how you walked away from me last weekend?"
Damn. This has escalated fast. "The fuck?" I take a step toward her. "I didn't walk away from you. You chose Luca! Something made evidently clear when I saw you kissing him just yesterday!"
"He kissed me!"
I nod. “And I could tell by the way that you kissed him back, you hated it,” he says dryly, his words full of sarcasm.
"You made my choice, Theo. Not me."
"What do you want?" I shake my head, not willing to go there with her. "You came here tonight for a reason. What is it?"
She hesitates, her eyes looking everywhere but at me.
"You know what? This is a waste of time," I say, knowing that it will piss her off. But it's the only thing I know to do that will hopefully push her to finally say something. "You won't change my mind. You chose Luca, and—"
"God, you're being a real ass about this." She smiles, but her eyes are blazing. There’s nothing humorous about them. "Who the hell are you now? The Theo I knew would have never given me an ultimatum."
With You: With you, I am who I want to be. Page 28