Breaking Karma

by Charity Ferrell

  A tiny twinge of pain lurked into my thoughts of him touching other women in ways he'd never touch me. Keegan and I were just friends. I had to remember that. Sure, he flirted with me from time to time, but he flirted with everyone who had a vagina. I was only his neighbor, his friend.

  I watched him lift the slender shot glass to his lips, tip it back, and drain it like a pro. A bang erupted as he slammed the glass down on the wooden table and burst out in laughter.

  We all stared at him, clueless as to what the hell was so funny. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his neck. He set his eyes on Cora, pointing his index finger at her. “That was a fucking test,” he told her. “A motherfucking test.”

  A what?

  Cora crossed her arms, giving him a stiff stare. "I honestly have no idea what the hell your drunkass is talking about.”

  Lane looked back and forth between his girlfriend and Keegan, while I waited for someone to tell me what the hell I was missing.

  “Oh, silly Cora,” Keegan said, snorting. “You wanted to make sure Lane was a good boy during your little break you had, didn’t you? Come on, that was obvious.”

  "It's your turn, asshole," Cora snarled, sliding the tequila bottle over to him harshly.

  Keegan's turn never happened because Volcano Lane erupted. "You really think I'd do that fucking shit, Cora?" he yelled. He sprung to his feet, stumbling, and showing us how drunk he actually was. “How many times have I told you that Piper is a stupid, lying whore that I’d never touch?” His eyes blazed fire as he stared down at her.

  "Lane, baby," she said, closing her eyes and taking a calming breath. "We were playing a game, and I was calling Keegan out," she assured, her smile tight.

  Lane grabbed the tequila bottle and took a giant swig. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before bringing his arm back and hurling the bottle across the room. A loud crash and the sound of glass breaking echoed through the room. Well, shit.

  “I’ve told you a million fucking times I’ve never done shit with that fucking slut!” he screamed. “A million! How many more times do I need to go through this same bullshit with you before you get it through that thick head of yours, Cora? Huh? Do we need to break up again for you to realize that I’d never do anything to hurt you?”

  Someone needed to calm Monster Lane down. I looked over at Cora, then to Keegan, and both of them were sitting there like lumps on a log. I kicked Keegan underneath the table, and his eyes snapped my way.

  "Do something," I mouthed. He shook his head, looking away and ignoring my request. Asshole.

  Lane's chest heaved in and out as sweat began to glisten around his hairline. The chair next to me slid against the marble floor, and Cora up stood next to him.

  "Hey" she whispered gently, grabbing his shaking hands. "Stop.”

  I waited for her to say more, but that was it. She just stood there looking at him. Wow, I hoped they’d never let her talk someone off the ledge in the future.

  "Fuck it," Lane said, angrily. Pulling her hands away from him like they were toxic, he broke away from her and stormed away. The room was restrained until a loud bang of the door slamming shut echoed from up the stairs.

  Well, this trip had just done a complete one eighty.

  "What the hell?” Cora groaned. “I'm going to go check on him and make sure his drunk-ass doesn't do anything stupid.” Her attention moved to Keegan. "And fuck you, Keegan. This is all your fault." She gave a quick wave over her shoulder before darting up the stairs.

  "Why did you start that, and why didn't you do anything to stop it?" I asked.

  He shrugged his shoulders. "Not my circus, not my monkeys. They needed to have that conversation, anyways. I’m only helping them because Cora will never let that shit go until they do.” He pulled himself up from his chair, strolled into the kitchen, and opened up a cabinet. “Vodka?” He raised a brow as he came back to the table. He unscrewed the cap, filled his glass, and smiled at me.

  The insides of my stomach flip-flopped at the mention of the word, like it remembered the last time I was in its presence. Fully aware I was going to regret it later, I grabbed the shot glass in front of me and drained the rest of the tequila. My eyes never left his face as understanding dawned, and he gulped down his own shot.

  "Lane gets crazy when it comes to Cora," he said, pointing out the obvious and refilling his shot glass. "When they had their little break or whatever the fuck they called it, Piper spread a shit ton of rumors acting like a pissed off child because he blew her off. One of them had something to do with some bullshit story that he had a threesome with her and a friend. Complete bullshit. Everyone knows that shit isn't true, including Cora. She's just drunk and letting the alcohol get to her head." He reached across the table and grabbed my glass. "That girl is his fucking Achilles heel."

  "Do you think they're going to be okay?" I asked, grabbing the shot glass he refilled. He sat down in Cora's abandoned chair. My inebriated head began to spin lightly at our close proximity.

  "They're going to be fine. Those two little shits will get married and have their two-point-five hellions running around and causing chaos everywhere they go. It’s scary to think I’ll be related to Cora one day.” He shuddered.

  "It's even scarier to think there will be little Lane’s someday.” I swiftly took the shot glass and leaned across the table for the bottle.

  "Whoa there," Keegan said, stopping me. "I think that's enough for you. I know from experience you don't handle alcohol that well. Plus, you don't want to feel like shit tomorrow."

  “Awe man," I whined, setting my head down on the table. "When did you become so concerned with the well-beings of the female population?" He frowned at my bitchy comment. "Shit, sorry!" He was going to be the next person to throw a bottle across the room. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”

  “It’s cool, you’re right. I don't give two shits about the majority of the chicks I hook up with, but that doesn't mean I don't care about some.” He leaned in closer to my chair, brushing his hand against my cheek. "I care about my aunt and Cora," he told me gently, sweeping away the bangs covering my eyes. "And I care about you."

  I stared at him, speechless. His mouth twitched into a smile, shooting tingles through my body. “Okay,” he drew out slowly. “We doing hot tub or movie?”

  The hot tub idea sounded really good at the moment. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but they didn't pass go. Deep down, I knew it was a bad idea. A really bad idea. We were both clearly on our way to being drunk. Add being half-naked and steaming water in the mountains. That would only result in something bad.

  He took my hand and nearly dragged me out of my seat, causing me to stumble straight into his hard chest. My fingers ached with the need to run them over his soft skin again. He backed away slowly. Still keeping our hands interlaced, we walked into the living room.

  He stopped when we made it to the black leather couch. I took that as my cue to sit down. He walked around me to open up a large trunk and grabbed a blanket.

  “Here,” he said, throwing it over to me. “I usually don’t complain about this, but you might want to bring more clothes next time we come here. You’re going to freeze your ass off in those tiny shorts.”

  The next time we come here?

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, shivering, and wrapping myself up in the blanket. He moved around the room, and his plaid pajama pants hung loosely on his waist as he added more firewood to the fire.

  “Alright, babe. You’ve got a few options tonight,” he announced, opening a cabinet. “Scream, or Nightmare on Elm Street?”

  "Scream," I answered, rubbing my hands together.

  "It looks like we have just about every Scream in here that's ever been made," he said, skimming through the vast collection of DVDs stacked in the cabinet.

  "I choose the series, you pick the movie.”

  "How about we start with the first and see how many we can make it through before we crash?” />
  “Sounds good to me.” I used to do that with my dad, but could never make it passed the third one of any series.

  “I’ll be right back,” he told me, heading back into the kitchen. He came back with an armful of snacks and two bottles of water. “I have popcorn, candy, and water so we won’t be hung over slobs playing out in the snow tomorrow. We don’t want to drown.”

  I chuckled. "Drown in the snow? You know you only drown if your lungs are filled up with water, right? I highly doubt there’s enough of that to drown you.”

  "I never pay attention in Health class," he said, setting down the food on the table in front of us. "I'm usually too distracted."

  I jerked my head back looking at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You're in my Health class, how can I pay attention?”

  The movie started before I had a chance to answer him. Only ten minutes passed before I began to feel the nausea rumbling in my stomach. I couldn't puke. Reaching for the water bottle on the table, I chugged its entire contents.

  Don’t puke. Don't puke.

  “You've really had a threesome?" I asked, finally gaining the nerve to ask him the question that had been bugging me.

  "I have," he answered. "Does that bother you?"

  Hell yeah, it bothered me. Should it bother me? Hell no.

  I leaned up and tucked my knees underneath me. “No, it just seems a little advanced for someone in high school.”

  "Baby, there's a lot of shit that happens that some would say is too advanced for high school."

  I wasn't exactly sure what he meant by that, but the way he said it made me feel like what I’d said sounded childish.

  "I've only been with one person," I blurted, without thinking. Thank you alcohol for bringing out the honest and open Daisy. "So I really wouldn't know too much about being experienced.”

  He eyed me warily. "Is that supposed to be a bad thing?"

  No," I drawled out. "I swear everyone, except for Gabby and I are crazed sex fiends around our school."

  "You don't like sex?"

  His question caught me off guard. "I never said that.”

  “So you do like sex?”

  "Ugh," I groaned, face diving into the blanket to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. "We aren't having this conversation."

  "Sure looks like we are, sweetheart.”

  "Pay attention to the movie. This conversation is over.”

  "Oh babe, this conversation is just getting started," he argued, ignoring my protests. "I'm guessing it's the ex-boyfriend?” I nodded. "Was it just once?"

  My eyebrows drew together. "Why?"

  "I'm just curious on why you're so embarrassed talking about sex. It's a natural thing, you know that, right?” He smirked, leaning over and tapping his finger on my forehead.

  I was only eighteen; my sex life was just beginning to crawl. "I'm not embarrassed about sex," I argued back. "I just don't do it with everyone like you do."

  "I don't have sex with everyone."

  "How many girls have you had sex with then?"

  "You want the truth?" He snagged a popcorn kernel and threw it in his mouth.

  “I obviously want the truth.”

  "Then your answer is fuck if I know," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

  "I'm not sure where "fuck if I know" is at on the numerical scale, but that's a pretty sad answer. I also think it further proves my point."

  "It's not like I keep a little black book of all the girls I've fucked.”

  "Maybe you should." I knew girls who had lists of all the guys they'd hooked up with so they could keep count.

  "Right, I'm not really one to kiss and tell," he explained. "What happens between the girl and me is our business.”

  "Rumor has it you've never even had a girlfriend before.”

  "Rumor is correct, for once."

  "Out of all the ‘fuck if I know’ girls you've been with you've never wanted more with even one?”

  "I didn't exactly believe in relationships."

  "You didn't, or you don't?"

  "I didn't. After careful consideration lately, I've been thinking you can't knock something until you try it."

  "So you've changed your mind?” I asked, prying. "Why?"

  He exhaled a deep breath. "I've always looked at love as a weakness, or some bullshit term people used to make the person they’re with feel better. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had to pick up my drunk, crying mother off the floor as she wailed about a guy cheating on her.” He shook his head. “Then the next night, she’d have him back in her bed. Love is a weakness to some and a strength for others. When you tell someone you love them, you’re now weak. They own you. When someone tells you they love you, you’ve got power. But it’s only just a word. I don’t understand how one word can make people feel differently, especially when people go from lover, to lover, to lover. It all just seems fake to me.”

  "That's just one situation. You can't base the whole concept of love on one person's experience with it."

  He scoffed. "Oh baby, I've seen more than one experience. If only you could be a fly on the wall in the locker room, or at porn shoot. There are so many people who claim to be happily married there, actors, directors, even the crew, yet they cheat on their "loved ones" all the damn time. I mean, look at you, obviously you've loved before, and look how unhappy you are now."

  "My situation is different.”

  "Is it?”

  "It's definitely different. Tanner never cheated on me or lied about loving me," I said, starting to get pissed.

  "You’re right, it is,” he said, catching onto my attitude change. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. I only said it because people believe they are untouchable when they're in love, but they’re not. When you love someone, you’re usually setting yourself up for disaster.”

  “But now you’re saying that you can love? So wouldn't you be setting yourself up for disaster?”

  "I'm not sure if I could ever love, per se."

  "So you still don't actually believe in love?" Jesus, it's like we were playing a damn guessing game.

  "I've just met someone who I think I could actually break the rules for."

  My heart stopped. "You've met someone?"

  He ran his hands through his hair. "I think so. I'm not saying I'm in love with the chick or anything, I just wouldn't mind having more with her."

  "Do I know her?" I asked, curious.

  "Possibly.” He shrugged his shoulders, not saying another word, and turned his attention back to the TV.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Good morning, sunshine," a deep, scratchy voice whispered above me.

  The arm covering my eyes shot away, giving me a full view of the perfect, sleepy face looking down at me with half-mast, deep green eyes.

  I peeked down the length of me, noticing I was stretched out against the couch. A soft pillow was situated underneath my head and lifted up by Keegan’s lap. Did we sleep like this all night?

  “I didn’t puke,” I told him, proudly.

  "You didn't puke," he verified, grinning. His chilly hand ran down my face, brushing away my tangled, morning hair. “Now how about we get something in this tiny belly of yours to make sure you don’t this morning, either.” He tapped two fingers against my stomach over the blanket.

  "Did we sleep like this?”

  “We did. You slept like a baby, looking all comfortable since I make such a great pillow."

  I frowned. "Sorry, I bet that wasn't very comfortable for you."

  "No worries, it wasn't so bad with the exception of your god-awful snoring.”

  I slapped his stomach. "I do not snore.”

  "I beg to differ, princess, but it's a cute snore, so don't worry," he said, chuckling. He stopped, blinked a few times, and then grabbed the necklace around my neck. He studied the diamond pendent. “This is really pretty.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “Did he give it to you?” I nodd
ed. “He did love you,” he said, softly. “And I’m sorry if I seemed like an asshole about it last night.”

  “It’s fine.”

  He smiled before leaning forward and grabbing a neglected blanket at the end of the couch. He lifted me up and wrapped it around me.

  “Next time, warmer clothes,” he reminded me, following behind me into the kitchen with his hands wrapped around my waist, holding the blanket in place. He sat me down on a stool at the island across from the stove.

  "What sounds good to you this lovely morning?" he asked, dragging out pans.

  “This lovely morning? You sure are in a chipper mood.”

  That granted me a smile. “Every morning I wake up with you is lovely, babe.” Warmth radiated through me. “Eggs and bacon okay? Or I can throw together an omelet?”

  "An omelet sounds great. Good thing you can cook because I suck at it. If I lived by myself, I’d probably either live off peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or starve to death.”

  "Good thing you have me," he said back, cracking an egg open.

  "Good morning, assholes," Lane called out, strolling into the kitchen. "I’d like to start out the morning by apologizing for my tasteless, drunken behavior last night. We’re going to blame it on the alcohol.”

  "Wow Lane, that was a real remorseful apology," Cora said, stepping in the kitchen from behind him. She had on long-sleeved thermal pajamas, and her hair was a wild mess.

  "Your hair looks amazingly in place this morning, Cora," Keegan said.

  She threw him an annoyed look and flipped him off.

  "Make up sex is the best sex," Lane said, wrapping his arms around her small waist and twirling her hair around his finger. "Her poor hair just never survives.”

  “You're officially cut off," Cora said, elbowing him in the stomach

  "I'll need something later to make up for that, too.”

  Cora ignored him and sat down in the stool next to me. "So what's on the agenda for us today?"

  "We're going to go cause some hell in the snow," Lane answered. "Be ready to leave in fifteen, so hurry it up with my omelet, asshole.”