by J. Saman
We continue to kiss for a few minutes, as he peppers me with a million apologies and compliments in between.
“I need to go,” he says finally. “I have a class I can’t miss in twenty minutes. Can I come by later?”
I nod, licking my lips.
“Okay. I—” Brandon blushes and then smiles and then kisses me again. “I’ll see you later.”
That’s not what it felt like he was going to say.
“See you.” I smile, walking him to the door and shutting it softly behind him. The second I walk back into the kitchen, I jump three feet in the air for the second time this morning.
“Crap,” I hiss, my hand on my chest. “Xander, you scared the hell out of me.”
“That’s because you didn’t see me standing here,” he says, his tone clipped. “I take it all that kissing was a sign that the two of you made up?”
Yeah, he’s angry. His eyes are narrowed and his fists are balled up at his sides.
“We did. He apologized and said he’d never do it again. He felt terrible.”
Xander nods once, heading straight to the coffee pot. “I don’t trust him,” he says quietly as he pours his coffee. “And I don’t like him with you.”
“He’s not a bad guy. He just made a mistake.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“So what? You’d have me break up with him after just one incident that he felt bad about and apologized for?”
“Yeah. Maybe I would.”
“He won’t do it again.”
Xander flips around, burning me with his stare. “I wanted to kill him, Abby. He was squeezing your wrist and I wanted to kill him for touching you. I hate feeling like that.”
I don’t know what to say, mostly because I don’t fully understand what he means when he says he hates feeling like that. He hates feeling protective over me? He hates the idea of wanting to kill Brandon? He hates feeling out of control?
“Aubrey is my best friend and you’re his sister. I should have destroyed him for the way he was touching you.”
I shake my head, unable to stop myself. I’m so unbelievably frustrated with this man.
“Is that the only reason you would have done it? For Aubrey?”
“What the hell does it matter?” he asks, his tone sharp as a knife. “You were kissing Brandon.” He points in the direction of the front door. “You forgave him. He’s your boyfriend and Aubrey is my best friend. End. Of. Story.”
“Fine.”
I put my mug down on the counter, turning my back to him. I don’t know why I’m pissed off by that. He’s right. I’m with Brandon, and though Xander and I have our moments every once in a while where I think more is going on between us, I have a feeling that’s not really how it is.
“Fine?” he asks incredulous. “That’s all you can say?”
“What do you want me to say?” I ask, my eyes downcast toward the granite counter.
I feel his hands on my hips and the warmth of his body against my back.
“You and I are not friends.”
My eyes slam shut.
“We really haven’t been friends in years. Probably because I don’t know how to be your friend. Most days I can barely tolerate sitting in the same room as you and being forced to pretend that you are.”
My head lowers to my chest and I can feel tears stinging the back of my eyes. How does he always know how to say the most hurtful things to me?
“You smile at me and my insides hurt. You speak to me and I want to grab you and beg you to stop torturing me. You kiss Brandon and I feel sick.”
“I didn’t realize you still hated me that much,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.
“I don’t hate you, Abby.” His breath brushes against my neck and I shudder, a startled gasp escaping my lips. “But you need to remember that I don’t want to be your friend, and if you’re going to be with Brandon, then the least you could do is leave me the hell alone.”
He drops a kiss to the back of my neck and walks off, his door slamming shut behind him.
And I’m lost.
Totally and completely lost as I try to replay in my mind what just happened.
I make him feel sick when he’s near me. He’s not my friend and he wants me to leave him the hell alone.
Is that really what he said? Is that really what he meant?
I honestly can’t say yes or no to that.
He’s so goddamn cryptic and enigmatic. I know that if I followed him now and demanded more of an explanation, I wouldn’t get it. He wouldn’t look at me or speak to me because Xander is the most stubborn asshole on the planet. I swear, most days I think he gets off on being angry with me. On hating me even when he says he doesn’t.
And he said it pretty clearly last night. Nothing can ever happen with us.
So there is no reason I shouldn’t be with Brandon.
I like Brandon. And I believe that he’ll never do something like that again.
So Xander wants me to leave him alone. Fine. I’ll leave him alone.
Even if it breaks my heart in the process.
CHAPTER 17
“YOU’VE MADE EXCELLENT PROGRESS WITH this story,” Professor Halpern says, looking at the screen of my laptop, leaning back in her struggling office chair, hands folded gently on her round abdomen. “Normally I do not encourage students to change their course mid-stream, so to speak, but I’m thrilled that you did.” Her eyes turn to mine as she sits up, scooting the chair towards me so that we’re now only a few feet apart. “You’ve got something going here, Abby. Something really different. I can’t tell it’s if a comic, a young adult fantasy or what. Normally stories like this have romantic love, but I’m enjoying the sibling dynamic. In fact,” she points a finger up in the air, “I think I might prefer it in this case. It rings true. Your writing is really on point.”
I lean back in my chair, a little stunned.
I’ve been working my ass off on this manuscript for the past five weeks, and I’m about sixty pages into it. That’s saying a lot for me. But the problem is, despite only needing another twenty pages for the assignment, I feel that my work won’t be finished in twenty pages.
“You know it’s not near finished,” I say calmly, though I’m feeling anything but.
She nods, shifting in her seat to cross her thick ankles, exposed at the bottom of her standard issue long black skirt. “Yes, Abby. I do believe you’re right. But as with most writing, it is important to finish the story if you’re able. How much longer do you feel it needs to be before you’re satisfied?”
“Honestly?” I shrug a little, because I’m not entirely sure. “Another forty to fifty pages?” And that’s if I cram it, I don’t add.
“All right.” She nods again, bringing her finger to her lip, bouncing it a few times as she thinks. “How’s this? I’m going to change the assignment for you.” My eyes widen and I shift in my seat, a little apprehensive as to where this is going. “I want you to finish writing this the way you’d like it written. No more worrying about page limits or any of that nonsense. Write me a novel, cookie.” She smiles as if she’s brilliant and has just given me the keys to the castle.
She hasn’t.
My misgivings with this manuscript had begun to dwindle, but now they’re back in full force.
“A novel?” I question, making sure I heard her correctly, because that seems completely absurd. My poor cuticles are receiving the brunt of my tension as I pick at my nails.
“Yes, a novel. It can be as long as you’d like.”
“But it’s due in two weeks.” I break out into a small coughing fit, my lungs ready to explode.
Her hand waves in the air flippantly. “I’m going to make this your whole year assignment. I think if this turns out the way I’m hoping it will, it could be publishable, so we’ll need the rest of the semester to get it the way we want.”
“Uh. The rest of the semester? Publishing it?”
She’s messing with me, rig
ht?
A nod. “I know you’ll do well.”
She grins, thinking that’s the perfect thing to say to boost my confidence that is clearly crumbling before her eyes, but it’s not. That’s the most loaded freaking thing to tell a person. It says you cannot fail or you’ll prove us both wrong.
“I’ll do my best,” is all I can muster. Suddenly, I feel like the walls of this room are closing in on me.
She reaches back to her desk, picking up my open computer and handing it to me at an awkward angle. “I know you will, cookie. How about you come back in three weeks, after break, and we’ll see where you are?”
I nod. It’s really all I can do. I pack my things away, offer a tight smile and leave her office.
The second the mild early March air hits my face I close my eyes, absorbing the sun as it beats down on me. I must look insane to anyone walking by, because I’m standing outside of the English building, but I totally don’t care right now.
“You know it’s too early to get any vitamin D from the sun, right?” Brandon’s voice startles me out of the moment of silence I needed to get my thoughts in order.
“I do,” I tell him, not moving from my position.
“Did your meeting not go well?” he asks, sounding surprised.
He of all people knows how hard I’ve been working on this thing. We’ve been dating a total of six weeks now, and so far, it’s going really well. Our little incident at the bar was never mentioned again, nor did history repeat itself. We don’t see each other all that often due to our schedules. His with lacrosse practice and games, mine with a full course load of six classes and my writing this stupid, life-sucking manuscript—oh wait, novel.
“It did in a way.”
“Abby, babe, you’re freaking me out here with that whole staring up to the heavens thing and short unhelpful responses.”
I sigh, lowering my head, but only a little, and opening my eyes. “Were you always this tall?” I ask, only half kidding because he does seem a bit larger than normal to me right now.
He laughs, reaching out and touching my cheek. “Yes and no. I’m up one step on you.”
“Oh.” I look down to see that he’s right. “Well, you’re too tall, come down to my step. Better yet, the one below it.”
He chuckles, but willingly obliges as he steps down, wrapping his arms tightly around me. “Tell me what happened,” he whispers into my ear, kissing the sensitive skin just below.
“Halpern changed my assignment. Says she wants me to continue writing it despite the page length.” He pulls back, eyes widened in astonishment. “Wants me to turn it into a novel and has made it my semester project now.”
“Holy shit, babe, that’s amazing.” He’s smiling big, seemingly proud of me.
Why don’t I feel proud too?
I should, right? I mean, she thinks my writing is good enough to get published maybe, but it just leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
“Why don’t you look happy about this?” His eyebrows scrunch together, creating a crease between them. His hands come up to my shoulders, rubbing up and down in a comforting gesture. If I’m honest, I find it a bit patronizing, though I don’t know why.
Maybe I’m just moody today.
Maybe this cold that I haven’t been able to kick in the past two weeks is finally taking its toll on me. Maybe I just need a break from everyone and everything.
Maybe I need to stop being so melodramatic and get over myself already.
“I don’t know,” I sigh, lowering my exhausted head to Brandon’s warm, hard chest. He smells like wind, and soap, and dryer sheets. “I feel like crap, and this just puts a lot of added stress onto me.” I sigh again with a small cough that I work to stifle so I don’t have a coughing fit all over Brandon’s shirt.
“I know, babe.” He rubs my back affectionately as he kisses the top of my head. “But you must be really good at this or she wouldn’t want you to do it, so have faith in that. What you really need is rest. You’ve been going non-stop with this thing, thinking you had to have it done and you haven’t given your body a chance to get better.”
I nod against his chest, because he feels far too good to move. “I know. Now that I don’t have that deadline looming over me I’ll get more sleep.”
“Good. I’m starting to worry about that cough.”
“It’s just bronchitis, and I feel like it’s getting better.”
“If it’s bronchitis then why aren’t you on an antibiotic?”
I raise my head slowly, because even that feel like a task today, finding his light blue eyes that seem almost clear in the bright sun. “Because bronchitis is a virus and an antibiotic won’t help it.”
He snickers. “Did you change your major to premed?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be an ass. I am a bio minor, remember? And I told you I went to the health center the other day and that’s what the doctor there told me.”
“Fine,” he concedes, not wanting to fight with me on this. “But promise me that if you get worse, you’ll go back in.”
“I promise.”
“Good.” He smiles, leaning down to kiss my lips. “Let me take you home.”
“Okay.” We start walking, his arm wrapped around my shoulder, my body pulled into his large side. “Wait, don’t you have practice this afternoon?”
“No. We have a game tomorrow and Coach gave us the afternoon off. We have an early practice tomorrow morning.”
“So does that mean I get you for the afternoon?”
“It does, but you’re going to be sleeping in your bed.” I look up at him with a pout, making him chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there with you.”
“I’m really too tired to fight you on the sleep part.” I smile weakly. “I’m totally wrecked, aren’t I?”
“Just a little.” He leans down to brush his lips against mine. “But I adore you anyway.” I don’t say anything else. My eyes return to the street in front of us and I nuzzle into his side a little more. I’m suddenly freezing and shivering like crazy.
Brandon’s been saying that a lot lately. That he adores me. Not love, not yet at least, and since I haven’t been returning the term of endearment, he hasn’t pushed further.
I might like Brandon a lot, but I definitely don’t love him. Not at this point anyway. I think it’s far too soon for that. Or maybe that’s just how it is with him. Our sex life is very good, if not great. We have no problems in the chemistry department and I have a lot of fun with him.
But that’s sort of where our similarities end.
Brandon is big into partying, especially at his house with a keg present. That’s probably my least favorite activity for many reasons. Occasionally, we’ll go out to the bars together, but he gets bored quickly. I think mostly because he can’t spend his time there getting as drunk as he’d like and use his energies to hit on girls.
And the girls love him.
No matter where we are, they’re all over him.
He’s a good sport about it and doesn’t make a show of looking or flirting back, but considering how he was before me, I’m sure it’s a struggle for him.
The issues I was having before about not really knowing who is he have changed a bit. But not necessarily for the better. He’s a great guy. Very sweet and attentive. But he’s still sort of . . . I hate to use the word bland, but that’s usually the one that pops into my mind.
We can never agree on a movie to watch or go see, and don’t get me started on
music taste. He likes country. Enough said. I dragged him to a show a couple of weeks ago and he made a face the entire night and stood in the corner, refusing to partake.
I was much more agreeable when he took me to some country music festival.
The only time things are ever really good is when we’re alone together. Whether just hanging out at my place or in his room, since I can’t stand being anywhere else in the godforsaken pit he calls a house. That one time I cleaned his kitchen was a complete waste, because
the next week it was disgusting all over again and I didn’t have it in me to repeat all that hard work.
We bicker a lot. Mostly on small insignificant things. Not enough to break-up or anything, and as I said, I like him. I just don’t know how compatible we really are. He doesn’t enjoy spending time with my friends, and often gets pissy when I hang out with them and not him. I always invite him along and he always refuses, but picks a fight if I don’t want to hang out with his friends instead.
Aubrey also has not warmed to him, which is frustrating and difficult to maneuver. Especially since the feeling is mutual, something Brandon makes no attempt to hide. But I refuse to go to Brandon’s parties without someone, so if I get dragged, Aubrey is usually willing to make the sacrifice to come with me.
Even if he has been abstaining from all vaginas, as promised to Nina.
Personally, I think she has bitten off more than she can chew with Aubrey and that bet, but I’m keeping my word and staying out of it.
I unlock the door to my apartment with a click, shutting it behind us and dropping my bag on the floor by the entry table, when I’m suddenly whisked off my feet. A very unladylike squeak flies out of my mouth as Brandon is holding me bride style in his arms, marching me down the hall to my room. Xander comes out of his room when he hears my cries of protest, but just as quickly goes back into his room after scowling at us.
Brandon somehow manages to open the door to my room without having to put me down, and then walks me across the room, tossing me onto the bed with a large bounce. I’m laughing so hard that my head is pounding and then my laughter morphs into a coughing fit that leaves me winded and exhausted. Ugh!
“Lay down. Go. To. Bed.”
I pout, jutting out my lower lip as I undo my jeans, pulling them down.
“Here.” Brandon tosses me a pair of my sleep boxers from my second drawer.
“I thought you said you were staying?”
“I can’t really. I have work I need to get done.” He’s lingering by my door, now that I’m changed.
“Brandon, you don’t need to stay with me. I am perfectly capable of falling asleep on my own.” He hesitates, looking torn. “Go. For real, I’m just going to take a nap anyway.”