by K J Bell
After what happened with Tori outside, her reaction to my touch, it’s obvious she doesn’t hate me and probably never has. Kissing her was fucking incredible. I can’t stand knowing I’ll never have her. Her soft warm tongue in my mouth and her perky tits crushed against my chest were mind-blowing. I’m thankful she put a stop to things, because if she hadn’t I would have taken her right up against that wall. Tori’s worth so much more than a quick dirty fuck. The kind I usually have.
Why couldn’t I just keep my hands off her? It’s easier when she hates me. For her own good, she needs to hate me. There’s only one way to get Tori so pissed she never speaks to me again, a repeat of her last night with Jake. Using Christy isn’t cool, but she’s used me plenty. Turnabout is fair play, right?
When Christy slides on the stool next to me and smiles in a way she thinks is seductive, I lean into her ear. “Want to play tonight?” I ask, and kiss softly along her jaw to drive my point home. Her dull black hair smells like hairspray, not sweet and floral like Tori’s hair. It’s nauseating.
She giggles, and my gut clenches. The sound is grating, like a squeegee on glass. “Don’t I always, Hunter?” She giggles again. Referring to me as “Hunter” reminds me Christy is part of a crowd I hung out with in high school. She’s the cheerleader every football player fucked at least once. My teammates and I all went by our last names back then, and she’s obviously stuck in that delusional life. If she wasn’t necessary, I’d pawn her off on one of my buddies tonight.
Chapter 5
Tori
Liv leaves me at the table when a guy asks her to dance, promising me she won’t accept a drink if he offers. I eye the crowd for a while until nature calls, and I stand up to go to the bathroom. Slightly folded, I grab the table to steady myself before I move. I wait in the expected line, and cross my legs, bouncing like a toddler. After the longest pee of my life, I wash my hands and look in the mirror to find lipstick smeared across my cheek. No wonder Liv thinks something’s up.
Once I’ve washed off the clown face, I fling open the bathroom door only to see a couple going at it against the wall. The girl’s back is to me, and her jean-clad legs are wrapped around the guy’s waist. I blush, thinking that must be what Brady and I looked like outside.
When I glance down, a flash of familiarity lodges in my throat, and I choke on it, sobering instantly. I recognize those goddamn boots. Tan Timberlands laced loosely, with jeans tucked behind the tongue. Unfortunately, I recognize the guy wearing them, too. Not too long ago he hauled my ass out of this club and had his way with me up against a brick wall. Brady – stomp on my heart – Hunter.
A muffled giggle escapes the girl’s mouth as she buries her head in the crook of Brady’s neck. Brady lets out an erotic-sounding groan and throws his head back against the wall with his eyes closed. His teeth bite into his lower lip, and a light above his head shines along his jaw as it shifts back and forth.
Why I’m watching this? I have no idea. But I can’t move, like the wedges in my sandals are made of bricks. The girl whispers something in Brady’s ear, and a sexy-as-all-getup grin etches deep in his face. She slides down his body to her knees. Her long ebony hair sways as she reaches for his zipper. No way in hell is she going to… Yes way in hell, she is. She is going to suck him off right here in this hallway. I shouldn’t be surprised. That’s just the kind of girl he likes. Brady’s hand is on the back of her head, his eyes still closed.
My fingers cover my mouth as I struggle to breathe. I’m just about to move my feet when his eyes pop open, locking with mine. He shoves his little fuck-buddy aside and is pulling up his zipper when I finally manage to run.
I hear her scream his name and I hear him yell mine, but I keep my feet moving so I don’t have to face him. I run full speed until I get to Liv’s car. Practically ripping her door off, I jump inside and lock the door. Liv never locks her door when we go out, joking she may need to make a quick getaway. She puts the keys in the gas cap so she doesn’t have to carry anything inside the club except her I.D., which she hides in her bra. As many times as I tease her that it’s hard to make a quick exit if your keys are in the gas cap, I could kiss her face right now.
Feet pound into the concrete as footsteps echo off the cement walls of the parking structure, and then his face comes into view. Brady stops, flashing a suggestive gotcha smile. He walks the rest of the way to the car with his hands tucked into his pockets. As mad as I am at him, he’s still the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen, with way more sex appeal than any one person needs. If he only had something decent on the inside to offer me, I wouldn’t be locked in this car right now, seething mad and admittedly hurt.
His face twists irritably when he lifts the door handle, discovering it’s locked. Basking in my victory, I smirk at him through the window, and then his face lifts to something smug, an “I know where the key is” look. I pull my knees up between the steering wheel and my body, and wrap my arms around my legs. When Brady opens the gas cap and unlocks the car, I almost cry. God, I hate him!
The passenger door opens, and he slides in. The door closes, but he doesn’t speak. I will not cry. When his hand slides across my shoulder to the back of my neck, I whip my head around, glaring at him with revulsion.
I unfold my legs, and sit up in the seat. “Don’t fucking touch me, Brady!”
He pulls his hand away, and places it on his knee, sliding it back and forth across his jeans. He breathes a sharp intake of air. “I deserve that.”
I roll my eyes. He deserves much worse than that. “Just go back to your blow job, Brady. I don’t want you here.”
He leans over the console. The space closing between us is too intense, and I’m weak. I refuse to look at him, knowing I won’t stay mad if I do. “I’m not leaving you alone in a parking garage, Tori.”
My face breaks into an indignant smile, and I finally look over at him. “Why the hell not?”
“Because I’ll worry about you,” he answers, his mouth partly hanging open and his eyebrows bunched together.
Oh, now he’s going to be gentlemanly.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “You’re worried about me alone in a locked car in a very public parking garage, but you didn’t worry that I might catch you getting a B.J. from some ho in the middle of a club. God, and I thought I had issues. You’re seriously fucked up, Brady. You know that, right?”
He rests his head against the seat back. His chin lifts when he looks up at the car roof, accentuating the curve of his throat. I chew on the inside of my lip and curse myself for thinking how much I would like to crawl on top of him and kiss that very spot.
His breaths are heavy and regretful. “Yeah, I know I’m fucked up.”
I position my body so that I’m facing him now, anger simmering just below the surface. “What was all that back there, Brady? What was with the whole ‘I’m not done with you’ comment? Were you just trying to hurt me? You succeeded, okay? Now get the hell out of here.”
He twists around so quickly I haven’t even caught my breath when he grabs my face. His hands on both sides of my jaw push into my skin. His forehead rests on mine, and he lets out a long, warm breath of air. My eyes move to his lips. Why do I want him to kiss me again?
“I don’t ever want to hurt you, Tor. That’s why I…” His mouth covers mine, and I foolishly open to him, too weak to stop myself. His kiss is slow and passionate, like he’s apologizing with his mouth. He sucks on my bottom lip and then pulls away, licking his lips before he speaks. “Christ, look, I’m toxic, like fucking poison, nothing instant, though — I’m something slow and painful, and you don’t need that in your life.”
As the words are leaving his mouth, I catch something in what he says. Prying his hands from my skin, I scream at him, “Wait, you did that back there on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted me to see.” I do a lousy job of hiding my rage, and his silence tells me I’m right. “I hate you, Brady.”
“Good, I need you to hate me, Victor
ia.”
As my full name rolls off his tongue, I do something I have never done to anyone. I slap him across the cheek, and I hold nothing back. I put all the anger I’ve locked away for the last year into my hand, and deliver it right to his face. Although he deserves that hard slap, guilt takes over. But then he laughs. He laughs at me. That same self-gratifying laugh he had the night I found Jake with Savannah. My guilt disappears, and I slap him again, harder this time. That did it. His remaining laughter dissolves in the air, and his expression turns flat.
Without looking at me, he opens the door, steps out of the car, and stalks away from me.
That’s exactly what I want, so why does it hurt so much?
I’m trembling with emotion, and near tears, but I hold it in. I will not cry over a guy, because I promised myself I wouldn’t after I cried for three days when Jake and I broke up. Something else I can add to the long list of reasons I hate Jake. Remembering the expression on Brady’s face before he got out of the car makes me almost break my promise. My eyes sting, but I don’t want to let the tears fall. It’s too much, though, and I can’t fight it. I immediately wipe my skin clean.
Liv tapping on the widow startles me, and I look up at her through sticky wet lashes. Mascara and tears don’t mix.
Brady
My cheek is on fire from where she smacked me, but I’m positive I’ve finally convinced her to hate me, beyond any doubt. When I came up with the plan, I thought it was brilliant. But when I opened my eyes and saw her, I knew I’d made a huge mistake. I wanted to explain, so I chased her like the idiot I am. I can’t shake how hurt she’d looked when I found her. I’d already broken her. When she spoke, I knew explaining was not an option; letting her go is the only way. Not fixing it is making me insane, but it’s the right thing to do. Prince Charming is out there somewhere, ready to give her the fairy tale she deserves. As much as I want her, she’s better off without me in her life. She’s better off with the fairy tale.
I blame my parents. This bullshit all started when their dirty little secrets came out. I lost my parents – or at least the illusion of my parents – and then Vanessa, and now Tori. In the last year, I’ve destroyed everything I care about. So I do what any guy my age would do to cope; I go to my buddies to drink myself into a stupor and forget about life.
When I enter Jesse’s apartment, he’s on the couch, sprawled out in nothing but his underwear and scratching his balls. Beer cans line his coffee table, and bottle caps are pressed into the popcorn ceiling above his head. I shake my head. He’s a slob, but he’s my closest friend.
“Let yourself in if you want,” he grumbles.
“I will, thanks.” Without bothering to stop, I walk straight to his kitchen in search of my good friend Jack.
I’m scouring the cupboards when Jesse hops over the back of his couch and joins me in the kitchen. “You look like shit, bro!”
I don’t respond. I’m still rattled, and I’m not up for discussing the reasons. Sparking up a conversation for the sake of talking isn’t Jesse’s style, which means he’s digging.
“Another fight with your folks?”
Yep, exactly what I thought.
“Not this time. I don’t want to talk about it, either. I came here to drink.” Bingo. I pull a bottle of Jack from the cupboard and set it on the counter while I look for a glass that’s not filthy. “Can I crash on your couch? I can’t go home tonight.”
“Mi casa, su casa, man. If you’re not fighting with your folks, then why can’t you go home?”
“Not your concern, Jess.” I find a clean tumbler in the dishwasher and hold it against the handle on the fridge while I crush ice into it, and ignore Jesse.
When the noise of the ice maker stops, I turn around and see Jesse’s eyebrows are raised. He’s not going to drop this. “What’d you do to Tori this time?” he asks.
“What makes you think she has anything to do with it?” His assumption pisses me off. He’s right, and that makes me want to punch him. As I pour the amber liquid into the tumbler, I decide to skip adding Coke, and just pour until the tall glass is nearly full.
“I don’t think, I know. You have the same pathetic look on your face you had when you set her boyfriend up with Savannah and she told you to fuck off.” Jesse knows truths in my life that most people don’t. Right about now, I’m wishing that wasn’t the case.
I shrug and down half the glass of Jack. Jesse’s smiling at me, which isn’t helpful. It’s patronizing. “It’s nothing. She just gets under my skin.”
“Just tell her how you feel about her,” he offers, his tone casual and still demeaning, like I’m too big of a pussy to tell her. Maybe I am.
I blink, surprised. Jesse’s never had a serious girlfriend. Why would I take advice from him? “Come on, Jess, you know me better than that. I’m fucked up. My life’s a mess. A girl like Tori deserves better than me.”
Jesse picks up the bottle of Jack and chugs down a few swallows. He sets it back on the counter. From the look on his face, he thinks I’m a lost cause, and I am. “Dude, you’re an idiot. She’s not a kid anymore. If you ask me, she’s old enough to decide for herself what she wants.”
My lip curls, and I snarl at my soon-to-be ex-best friend. “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you, fucker.”
He shakes his head and pulls from the bottle again. I grab it away from him and set it back on the counter. I need it a hell of a lot more than he does.
“You’ve got to let Tori in. Get over Vanessa, and move on with your damn life. And quit blaming yourself for how it ended.”
Like I hadn’t already thought of that. Seriously, what the fuck? I shake my head and fight the urge to throw the glass of Jack, and anything else that’s breakable, against the wall. “I’m trying, Jesse.”
“Yeah, well, try harder,” he says. He’s messing with me, but the sarcasm in his voice is irritating. He picks up the bottle again, and starts to leave the kitchen. I grab it back, scowling, and he chuckles. “I’m going to crash, but the couch is yours.”
“Thanks, Jess. I appreciate it.” Two and a half tumblers of Jack later, I finally pass out on his couch.
Chapter 6
Tori
Holy mother of all headaches; now I remember why I have a three-drink maximum. I squint through one eye, as bright sunlight fills the room. Liv’s peppy smile is inches from my face. How come she always looks perfect? I groan and pull the covers over my head.
Liv sings noisily, and I hold my hands over my ears. She’s singing about getting out of bed and combing my hair. Oh, my God! What the hell is with this family and singing? It’s way too damn early for singing.
I push the covers down to my nose, and glare at her. “The Beatles? Really, Tug?” I call her “Tug” on purpose. Comparing her to her obnoxious brother is the only way I can think of to get her to cease her off-tune melody. It works.
She frowns and rips the covers off me. “Come on, hangover or not, we are going to find a job today and it’s already after nine.”
I totally forgot that we were doing that today. Why did I drink so much last night? Oh…ouch! The slap – pun intended – to my memory reminds me exactly what happened last night. Memories come flooding back to me. Jake, roofie-boy, and Brady “he’s such an ass” Hunter.
God, Brady. I can still smell his delicious scent. I brush my fingers across my lips, remembering his kiss, his taste. Everything he said to me and my complete lack of control. I want him, yet I want to strangle him. One warm gaze, and I completely crumble.
I sniff the air, and no longer care about Brady or last night. “Bacon!” I squeal. “I smell bacon. Please, Liv, tell me it’s so – someone is making bacon.”
She giggles. “It’s so! My parents made breakfast before they left for work. Now get your butt out of that bed before Tug eats it all.” Ah, parents who make breakfast. I love living here even more.
My feet tangle in the mound of covers when I leap from the bed. I end up tumbling onto the floor, and when I stand
up, Liv laughs at me. I push her aside, and head to the door.
I’m sure I set a record, because I make it to the kitchen a nanosecond later. I freeze when I realize I have to see him this morning. I’m not ready for another heated or hostile Brady Hunter confrontation. I play it cool, praying Liv doesn’t hear the fear in my voice. “Is Brady here?”
“Nope, he never came home. He’s probably with that girl who was all over him last night.”
Her words punch me in the gut. She doesn’t mean to, of course. Liv has no idea what transpired between Brady and me last night.
I’m not going to do this to myself. I’m relieved Brady’s not here. He’s not going to ruin my breakfast, because I love bacon.
I grab the pitcher of orange juice off the counter, pour myself a glass, and gulp it down. After last tight I’m dehydrated and juice never tasted better. I fill another glass and sit. Liv’s giggling about a text she’s just received from one of her many admirers, the high pitch of her voice so loud it sends pain to my eyeballs.
Tug enters seconds later, pulling up his zipper, mumbling something into his chest about coffee making him pee. He starts to finger a piece of bacon on the plate.
Liv looks up from her phone, disgusted. “I hope you washed your hands.”
Tug flashes a smart-ass grin. “Why? I didn’t pee on them.”
Liv’s grimaces. “Gross, you’re so disgusting.”
Tug looks at me, rolling his eyes in response to Liv. “Good morning, Tor.”
I hold my hand against the crease of my forehead. “Morning,” I say in a low voice. Any louder, and my head might explode.
Tug notices and smiles sympathetically. He pulls a bottle of pain reliever from the cabinet, and sends it across the counter to me.
God, I love him right now. I twist the cap off, drop a few pills in my hand, and toss them in my mouth, downing them with more orange juice.
Liv and I sit on the barstools at the kitchen island, and Tug stands on the other side. His hair is still tousled from sleep. Although he’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, they’re covered in wrinkles, and I’d bet he slept in them. He catches me evaluating him, and winks, obviously misinterpreting my thoughts. I blush a little and look away, embarrassed and flustered.