The Play: Briar U
Page 28
Dora greets me with smacking kisses and a bear hug, and then Joaquín steps forward to give me a hug.
“Damn fool,” he mutters.
I frown slightly. “What?”
His expression turns wry. “My son’s a damn fool.” He says the words softly, so only I can hear him.
My frown dissolves into a faint smile. “Yep.”
Nico still hasn’t come downstairs, thank the Lord. I hope he’s cowering in his bedroom. My family is ushered into the living room, where I’m fussed over by Dora and Alicia while Joaquín prepares drinks for my parents.
Then I hear his voice. “Demi.”
I turn slowly. Unlike me, Nico did make an effort with his appearance. He chose black trousers and a white shirt with the top button undone. His hair is slicked back and he’s fully clean-shaven. He looks really good, but the sight of him only evokes mild indifference. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since the night we broke up. I thought it might be awful when we eventually came to face to face. That my heartbeat would accelerate, that I’d experience a pang of longing.
But I don’t. If anything, I feel sorry for him. He almost looks like a little boy as he steps forward. He starts to open his arms, and I give a quick shake of my head.
“Let’s not do that,” I advise.
Disappointment clouds his eyes. “Come on, Demi.”
The next thing I know there’s a glass in my hand. Granted, it’s just a soda, and not the full-to-the-brim glass of tequila I would’ve preferred. But still. Mom to the rescue!
“Let’s help Dora with dinner,” she chirps as she whisks me toward the kitchen.
I follow her without a backward glance at Nico.
* * *
Dinner is awkward, at least for me. If it is for our parents, they’re not showing it.
Each time Nico speaks to me, I answer politely. But I don’t engage or elaborate on anything he asks. He reveals that he quit the moving company, and I don’t even blink because I don’t care. Then he talks about his new job as a line cook at Della’s Diner. I don’t care about that either, except to make a mental note to not eat there anymore. He’ll either spit in my food or mix a love potion into it.
After dinner, the men go outside on the bricked patio to smoke their Cubans, and the women tidy up. Old-fashioned, maybe, but that’s how it’s always been. Alicia and I load the dishwasher and then wash the bigger dishes by hand. She chatters on about the eighth grade and her friends as I pass her pots and pans to dry.
“I can’t believe you and Nico aren’t together anymore,” she whines. “I’m so sad.”
“I know, hon, but things don’t always work out the way you want them to,” I answer ruefully. “Go grab that huge salad bowl from the table, will you? I think it’s the last thing we need to wash.”
As Alicia dashes off, Dora comes up beside me. “Nicolás told me what he did,” she says softly. “I want you to know how disappointed in him I am, Demi. I raised him better than that.”
I meet her unhappy eyes. “I’m surprised he actually told you the truth and didn’t conjure up some story that painted him as the victim.”
She snorts. “That boy is incapable of lying to his mama, you know that.”
True. Nico is a total mama’s boy. Besides, Cuban women are scarily perceptive—they can read minds. Even if he tried to lie, Dora would’ve known.
“It’s his loss, Demi. I mean that, even though he’s my son. And you know you’ll always be a daughter to us, no matter what.”
“I know.” I give her a warm hug, and for the first time all evening I experience the rush of longing I hadn’t felt with Nico earlier.
I do love his parents, and it elicits genuine sorrow, the reminder that things will never be the same now that Nico and I are no longer together.
But things change. Relationships evolve. The same people could remain in your life, people you’ve known for years and years, only they play a different role now.
I blink back tears as I turn off the faucet and dry my hands on a dishrag.
Dessert is served in the living room, where Alicia demands we play a board game. “I got this new one called Zombies!” she exclaims, and I burst out laughing.
“Oh, I’m quite familiar with that one,” I inform the thirteen-year-old. “I’ve played it numerous times at a friend’s house. He killed me off the last time.”
She gasps. “You got sacrificed!”
“Yep.”
“What friend?” Nico asks suspiciously.
I want to tell him to mind his own damn business. But I can’t be rude in front of his family. “Nobody,” I say vaguely.
He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Nobody?”
For some reason, Dad decides this is a hill he wants to die on, too. “Which friend is this?” he asks.
I roll my eyes at his stern tone. “My friend Hunter.”
“The hockey player?” Nico demands, eyes flashing.
“Yes, the hockey player. You know the one that you and your little buddies—”
“I know who you mean,” he interrupts, a warning note in his voice.
Aw, he doesn’t want me to rat him out to his parents. Of course not. Dora wouldn’t like it one damn bit if she knew her baby boy was beating people up for no reason.
Our eyes lock for a beat. Nico looks worried I might tattle, and relaxes when I don’t.
“Hunter and his roommates are hilarious,” I say instead, glancing at Alicia. “They have a board game night a couple times a month, and this is their game of choice at the moment. But I don’t think it’s a good Christmas Eve game, hon. Maybe we should just play charades?”
Mom claps her hands. “Yessss! Let’s do it!”
Dora smiles at her daughter. “Go find those charades cards we wrote up last year, mami. They should be in the game drawer in the family room.”
Alicia hurries off excitedly.
I get up from my perch on the leather sofa. “I’m going to steal some candy from the bowl in the dining room. Anyone want some?”
“I’m surprised your teeth haven’t rotted off by now,” Nico’s mother chides with a sigh.
“Good genes,” I say, flashing my pearly whites. I’m a sugar fiend, yet I’ve never had a single cavity.
I pop into the other room and rummage through the bowl for something cherry-flavored. I’m barely gone five seconds before Nico’s gruff voice comes from the doorway.
“Can we talk?”
I’ve been dreading this. “There’s really nothing to say.”
He steps into the room. “Look, I’m not going to try to win you back, if that’s what you’re worried about. I get it, we’re done.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“But I did want to say I’m sorry. Not just for what happened with us, but for what I did to your hockey friend. I was drunk that night.” He shifts his feet, looking sheepish.
“You can save your apologies for Hunter. As for me, no apology is going to make up for what you did to me.” I suck in my cheeks as anger ripples through me. “We were together for so long and you played me like that?”
“I know. I’m sorry, D. I was an idiot, okay?”
“A horny idiot.”
Nico shakes his head. “No. It was about more than just sex. I…”
“You what?”
He makes a frustrated sound. “I can’t explain why I did it. It’s just…it’s hard to live up to your expectations sometimes, okay?”
My eyebrows fly out. “My expectations? Nico. The only expectation I ever had of you was to not stick your dick in anyone else. I hadn’t realized that was an impossible standard to meet,” I say sarcastically.
He scrapes one hand through his black hair. “You don’t get it. You’re so smart and you’ve always known exactly what you want to do with your life. And I’m just a fucked-up loser from Miami.”
“That’s not true.”
“You’re too perfect, Demi. Even back when we were just friends, I always felt this need to imp
ress you. And then we started dating and the pressure got even worse. I felt like I was trying to live up to something. And those other chicks, they threw themselves at me, made me feel like a big man, and I just ate it up, okay?” He avoids my gaze. “Whatever, it’s pathetic, but it’s the truth.”
“Yeah, it’s pathetic,” I agree, but my psychologist brain has already kicked in. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought that I was emasculating him. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way, Nico. All I ever wanted was the best for you.”
“I get it. And I tried to be that dude you wanted. I worked my ass off to get into an Ivy League—”
“I never asked you to do that,” I protest.
“I felt like I had to. I knew I’d lose you if we went to different colleges. But…” He sounds frazzled. “But it’s so goddamn hard, D. I study so fucking hard. And I work even fucking harder because my family’s not as well-off as yours.”
“I never asked you to do any of that,” I maintain. But the guilt trip is having an effect on me. “You pushed yourself, Nico. Whatever urge was pushing you to do it, you still created that pressure within yourself. But if I gave off the impression that I needed you to be some perfect specimen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I always liked you exactly the way you were.”
“Liked?” he says sadly.
“Yeah. That’s usually what happens when you sleep with someone who isn’t me.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I’m disgusting. There’s no excuse.”
“Nope. But here’s a tip for next time, with the next girl—maybe you could talk to her about any insecurities you might be having, instead of needing to go out and get an ego boost from other women.”
“You make me sound even more pathetic when you phrase it like that.”
I sigh quietly. “The fact that you couldn’t talk to me about how you were feeling only shows that our relationship was never going to work. We were kids when we started going out. We were naïve to think it was going to last forever.”
“It would have, if I hadn’t screwed up.”
“But you did, and now we’ll never know what would’ve happened.” I brush past him, heading for the doorway. “It’s Christmas, Nico. Let’s go spend time with our families.”
“Demi.”
I glance over my shoulder and find remorse swimming in his dark eyes. “What is it?”
“There’s really no chance, is there?”
“No. There isn’t.”
* * *
On the car ride home, I send Happy Holidays! texts to TJ, Pax, and the other Lost Boys, and then I finally get a chance to text Hunter, who’s spending the holidays in Connecticut. Apparently his father’s company held a holiday party tonight, which Hunter and his mother were expected to attend because, well, because they’re nothing but props for his father.
ME: How’d it go tonight?
HIM: Not terrible. Open bar, good food. Danced with my mother to a live version of Baby It’s Cold Outside, which was awkward.
ME: Awkward? More like hot!
HIM: FFS! We’re talking about my mother here.
ME: Was your dad on his best behavior?
HIM: Of course. He’s gotta put on a show for his adoring fans.
“Demi,” Dad says from the driver’s seat. “Could you please close your window? Your mother’s cold.”
“Mmm-hmmm.” I absently hit the automatic button, but I press it the wrong way and end up opening the window fully rather than doing the opposite. “Oh shoot. Sorry, Mom.” I drop my phone on the seat beside me and click the button again.
“Who are you texting with?” she asks curiously.
“Just a friend.”
Dad pounces instantly. “This Hunter boy you mentioned earlier?”
I wrinkle my forehead. “Yes. Is that a problem?”
He doesn’t answer for a moment. When he does, suspicion colors his tone. “Nico doesn’t think much of him.”
Interesting. Looks like Nico had more to say when the men went out for their second round of cigars.
“I see.” I nod politely. “Because Nico’s opinion is the mantle by which we measure all wisdom and purity.”
“Demi,” Mom chides from the passenger side.
“What? It’s true? His moral compass isn’t exactly in working order.” I meet Dad’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “When you were outside talking about my friend, did Nico also tell you how he beat Hunter up?”
Mom gasps. “He didn’t! Did he?”
“Oh yeah. Hunter was the one who gave me the heads up about the cheating. Nico didn’t like that, so he tracked Hunter down and roughed him up with four of his friends. Five against one, Dad. That’s how mature adults deal with their problems, right?”
Dad’s cheeks hollow as if he’s grinding his teeth. “Well. That aside, I wonder if perhaps you should keep your distance from this Hunter.”
“Why? This is coming out of nowhere. You don’t even know him, and I don’t think you should be taking Nico’s word for anything, please. He’s a liar.”
“He lied to you, yes. But that doesn’t make him a liar.”
“Daddy. If I murdered you, I’d be a murderer. He lied to me, therefore he’s a liar.”
“Semantics.”
I heave a sigh. “Look, I like Hunter, all right? He’s great.”
“Are you dating him?” my father demands.
“Not really.”
Mom twists around in her seat, her meddlesome instincts kicking in. “‘Not really?’ Dios mío! You are dating him! When did this happen?!”
“We’re not dating.” Just having sex. Repeatedly. “But if we were, I’d expect both of you to give him a fair shot. Nico isn’t my boyfriend anymore, you guys. Eventually someone else is going to fill that role, and I need you to accept that and be open-minded about it.” I shrug. “As for Hunter, he’s a good guy and I like him a lot.” I meet my father’s eyes again. “And if you met him, you’d like him too.”
31
Demi
New Year’s Eve
Hunter has me on the bed before I can even say hello. His greedy mouth latches onto mine, the kiss stealing the breath from my lungs.
“I missed this,” I whimper, and I feel his answering groan vibrate through my body. I wrap my legs around his trim hips and shamelessly grind against his very prominent bulge.
“Missed you too,” he mumbles. His lips are exploring my throat now. He sucks on the side of my neck, then rolls us over so that I’m straddling him.
His hands slide underneath my shirt to cup my boobs. I’m not wearing a bra, so his calloused palms are a delicious scrape over my sensitive flesh. My nipples instantly pucker and strain against his touch.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Take this infuriating thing off.” He peels the shirt off me and whips it across the room.
A laugh flies out. “Hey, now, my shirt didn’t do anything wrong.”
“It was covering these perfect tits. I’m furious at it.” The hot whisper fans over my nipple and I moan when he draws it into his mouth and sucks deeply. God. I can’t believe it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen him. How have I gone without this for two weeks?
I roll my hips, grinding his covered erection. He cups and squeezes my breasts, then curls one hand behind my neck and tugs me down for a kiss. His tongue touches mine and it’s like a bolt of lightning directly to my core.
In an unplanned synchronized frenzy, we fumble at each other’s waistbands. He shoves my PJ pants down. I try to do the same with his jeans, but the denim snags on his thighs. He grins and lifts his ass to help me out. He’s still wearing a shirt, but naked below the waist, and his cock springs up, long and thick. My mouth actually waters.
“Fuck,” Hunter chokes out as his gaze roams my nude body.
Our gazes lock. A second ticks by, two, three.
And then we’re mauling each other again. I find a condom and put it on him. He pulls me back onto his lap. I impale myself on him, and off to the races we go.
Pippa was right when she posited that maybe I’ve been having sex all wrong. Or maybe sex simply becomes predictable when you’ve been having it with the same person for years. With Hunter, it’s completely unpredictable, and right now I’m relishing the newness of it, all these firsts with him.
First kiss.
First fuck.
First orgasm while I’m riding his dick.
I come first, collapsing onto him, and he thrusts his hips, digging his fingers into my ass. He bites my shoulder as he comes, and I laugh breathlessly against his damp chest. We lie there for a moment, his arms wrapped snugly around me, his dick still buried inside me.
“Oh my gosh,” I say dreamily. “That was so good.”
“So good,” he mumbles.
We stay in that position for nearly a minute before he reluctantly withdraws. I sit up and help him remove the condom. “Here, let me get rid of this. I need to pee anyway.”
I return to the bed a minute later and we snuggle up, still naked. Hunter reaches for the fleece throw at the foot of the bed, pinches the corner and drags it up to cover us.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” he remarks.
“Are you just realizing it now? Did you not see all the decorations the girls are setting up downstairs?” Theta Beta Nu is hosting one of the many parties on Greek Row tonight. Which means my presence is mandatory.
I’m touched that Hunter chose to come here tonight instead of chilling with his boys. His teammates are throwing a huge party in Hastings.