by Dylan Heart
“So…” I lean across the table. “Is there anyone special in your life?”
“Not exactly.” Her eyes trail to the bar behind me. “I mean…”
“Is he here?” I ask, and spin my head around to face the bar. Among a sea of women in short skirts peppered with fraternity bros in between, there’s one man in particular that stands out. He’s a model that hasn’t been signed yet. An attractive douchebag who has to know when he sees his own reflection that he’s God’s gift to whatever team he plays for. Oh yeah, and he’s totally out of Cece’s league. I just found my angle. “Him?” I ask and turn back to her.
“Would you be quiet?” She leans across the table and whispers, “His name is Rafe and he’s in my Intro to Sociology class.”
“Rafe?” My brow furrows. “That can’t be his real name.”
“Well, it’s technically Ralph or Raphael. Something like that.”
“Yeah… I’d stick with Rafe.” I push myself back against my seat and grab my drink. “So, have you guys hit it off yet?”
“Not exactly.”
“Why?”
“Because of the whole True Love Revolution, chastity, waiting until I’m married to mess around thing.” When she’s done, her breath is spent and she throws herself back against her seat. “Ugh.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t date.”
“I guess you’re right” Her lips form a childish pout. “But, it’s not like he would give me the time of day.”
“You never know what a guy’s thinking until he speaks.”
“Speaking of drinking—“
Huh?
She jumps from her seat and grabs her purse off the table. “I need to use the bathroom.” She races for the women’s bathroom that’s situated adjacent to our table. Her flats patter against the flooring, creating an obnoxious symphony of impatience.
I turn in my seat and feast my eyes upon Rafe. He’s the kind of guy I would love to spend a summer with before ruining his life. He wears a cropped purple v-neck that contours around the bulk of the muscles in his chest, and clings tightly to his biceps. His hair is slicked back and curled to the side, like a modern day Gatsby—that’s fitting, I suppose.
His golden eyes pass over mine a time or two before he looks on. He gives me a knowing smile and grabs his beer off the bar. I cross my legs as he approaches and swing my long, brown hair to one side.
“Hello, Gorgeous,” I say in the sexiest voice I can muster. I’m more than ready for the games to begin.
He leans down and throws his elbow onto the table. “Hey.”
“And what can I do for you?”
“I’m actually here for your friend.”
That’s the sound of a record scratching. “Her?”
“Yeah, she reminds me of home.” He almost sounds like a child, a hulking contrast to the frame of his perfect and manly body.
It’s the sickest shit I’ve ever heard. If I still had a heart, I’m sure it would be melting. But I don’t. So, it’s sick. I can’t get behind anyone who has fond memories of home. Home isn’t something you should miss. It’s something to get away from. “That’s beautiful,” I say, betraying my thoughts. It’s a good thing I’m not one of those word vomit people.
“Yeah,” he mumbles to himself. “You never really get away from it.”
“I don’t think she’s your type.”
“Really?” he asks with a raised brow. “From what I know, she’s exactly my type.”
“And what have you heard?”
“That she’s nice and down to earth.” He nods his head and takes a sip of beer. “That she’s an overall good girl. Like I said, she reminds me of home.”
Jesus Christ. He’s a beautiful, blustering idiot. He’s perfect for her, but imperfect for my plan. I’ll need to make a move, and make it fast. Elsewise, my house of cards will tumble like the hut of the first pig in that fabled nursery rhyme.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the bathroom door swing open so I make my move and lean in close to whisper into his ear. I manipulate my voice so that my words are inaudible to him, forcing him to move closer to me. I can feel his breath dancing along my neck.
“Why have her, when you can have me?”
He pulls back and shakes his head. “No, thanks.”
I shrug it off, because his rejection doesn’t bother me. I know I got exactly what I wanted when Cece slings her purse across her shoulder and bolts for the front door.
I chase Cece out the front door of Gatsby’s, storming past a growing line of mid-twenties college students and young professionals. The air is thick and humid, and a spring thunderstorm seems to be in the immediate forecast.
“Cece,” I call out. “That’s not what it looked like.”
She spins to face me. “I’ve seen Mean Girls one too many times. I know exactly what that was.”
“Cece…”
“Don’t!” She throws her finger pointer in the air, warning me to keep my distance. “I thought you were my friend.”
“Your friend? I barely know you.” For a moment, I let my façade slip. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No.” She shakes her head and bites into her lip. She looks hurt, and it’s a foreign idea to me. It’s been years since I was powerless enough to let a stranger affect me. “You’ve got a real penchant for being honest. It’s almost admirable.”
“Can I tell you something?” I ask as I approach her, trying to regain her trust so I can set this plan into motion.
She shrugs and looks away from me. “Do I have a choice?”
“He is so not my type.”
“Another lie,” she accuses with another pointed finger.
“What?”
“Tessa warned me about you.”
“Who?”
“Tessa. She was sitting next to me at the meeting.”
I purse my lips and shake my head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“It wouldn’t, would it? You know what your problem is, Apple? You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
“That’s not true.”
“Bullshit,” she screams.
Woah. I can appreciate cursing, it’s a step in the right direction toward who I need her to be, but woah. I latch onto her arm and pull her into the dark alley. We don’t need to be making a scene in front of the entire downtown party scene.
“She told me you were trouble,” she reiterates and brushes a finger against her eye. I’m going to preface this by saying I’m not into women, but Cece has the sultriest of voices when she’s upset—a dense, raspy tone that could spin any man into a tailspin.
“Tessa, whoever the hell she is, doesn’t know me.”
“Everyone knows you, Apple. You have a reputation around campus.” She laughs uncomfortably. “A bad one. And from what Tessa told me, Rafe is exactly the kind of man you’re into.”
“Rafe’s an asshole,” I scoff, knowing full well he’s probably the nicest man downtown right now. It’s all a part of an intricate plan.
“Exactly. He’s an asshole and you’re a bi—“ she cuts herself off before she finishes her thoughts. A good idea.
I roll my tongue across my lips and chew into my cheek. “I think I want to have a talk with this Tessa.”
“Just let it go.” She shakes her head and pulls her purse strap back over her shoulder. “She was right when she told me I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”
“She’s wrong.” I reach forward and place my hands on her shoulders. “Cece, I swear I don’t want anything to do with him. He came to my table.”
“I told you, it doesn’t matter.” She brushes my hands to the side and crosses her arms.
“People like Rafe have certain wants and desires. They’re attracted to people like me—“
“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?”
“Hear me out. They’re drawn to people like me because of the way I am. I’m a challenge for them, but I’m not a challenge for them to get into bed.”
I fucking hate that word. “No offense, but your mom’s an idiot. It’s just the way it is. I’m not saying you should sleep your way around town—“
“Good, because that’s not anywhere close to being a checkered box on my bucket list.”
I step closer, and make direct contact with her eyes. “But you should sleep around. Just a little. Get that experience, so people like Rafe won’t look at you like some naïve child.”
“Why should I have to pretend to be someone I’m not?”
“Because life is fucked up,” and that’s the fucking truth.
She looks to the ground as a crackle of thunder rips across the sky. “Why were you at that meeting yesterday?”
“Ulterior motives.” This, I can be truthful about, because it helps my cause. The naïve and the innocent only need a tiny thread of truth to hang their trust on.
“You know what your problem is, Apple?” It’s a rhetorical question, and an answer isn’t expected. “You don’t trust people.”
I let out a soft sigh. “Walk a mile in my shoes, and then we’ll talk about trust.”
“Maybe…” She fumbles with her fingers. “Maybe I shouldn’t go back to that group.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I want Rafe to want me and… Don’t make me say it.”
“It’s okay, I’ll handle everything.”
She peeks behind her, taking a long look in the dark alley behind us. “I should probably be getting back to campus. My roommate might start worrying about me.”
“Okay,” I say softly. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Cool.” She nods and smiles nervously.
As she walks out of the alley and onto the sidewalk, I seem to sink into the stone beneath me. There’s something stirring inside me, something I haven’t felt in years.
Guilt.
I look at her, and I see who I used to be. I wonder if it’s the same exact damn thing Brick saw in me all those years ago. She doesn’t deserve this, but I’m not ready to concede victory to Brick. She’s an important part of this puzzle, so I take a few deep breaths and shake off all regret.
This is war.
Collateral damage is inevitable.
She’ll be stronger when she’s covered in battle scars. In the most fucked up way, I’m doing her a favor.
Chapter 8
FOUR YEARS AGO
“Come on, I want to show you something.” Brick said to me as he led me into his pristine dorm room.
“Wow, you clean up really well.”
He looked back at me with a smug smile. “That’s because I have a girl coming over.”
I punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You are so sweet.”
“Oh,” he said as he bit into his lip, “don’t shower me with compliments. The girl in question isn’t you.”
I should have known better. He knew he had me wrapped around his finger and I was the lollipop to his bubblegum. How many licks does it take to get to the center? However many it took to make him come. Then, he was gone.
He was always gone. Always out conquering his latest conquest.
He was glowing as he pulled me to a chair that sat in front of his laptop. “I’m about to make you so wet,” he growled.
“You bought me a new vibrator?” I teased.
“I got you something you can get off on for the rest of your life.” He hovered over me and reached around to click the trackpad. When the screen turned on, I was hit in the face with video of one man on top of another, screwing his brains out in missionary position.
“You brought me here to watch gay porn?” I gasped. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Shit… I forgot to rewind.”
I craned my head to look at him. His cheeks were flushed red, but his eyes were burned into the screen.
“Look,” he whispered to me, “and don’t take your eyes off the screen for a second. You don’t want to miss this.”
I did as instructed. It began with a framed shot of a bed in a college dorm. A home video—my favorite. Soon, I understood exactly why Brick brought me here.
Mason—the boy who had destroyed me after prom—came into frame and took a seat on the bed. He tugged his shirt over his head and kicked off his jeans. Then, another boy came into frame.
He was naked with tussled, dirty blonde hair. He approached Mason and bended to his knees, but something stole his attention off screen. He twisted his head and my eyes went wide.
“I’m going to release it to the whole school,” Brick said from behind me, his devious breath dancing along my neck.
I just shook my head in shock and disbelief. “Is that Dom?” I asked, my mind still reeling from the events unfolding around me.
“Yes.”
“No.” I shook my head violently and forced the chair backward, almost knocking Brick to the ground in the process. I lunged from my seat. “Your own brother? You would do that to your own brother?”
“That man destroyed you,” he yelled through a fit of rage, but I had a feeling his rage was a cover to justify what he was about to do to Dom—his brother.
“He’s innocent in this.”
“He’s collateral damage, and it sucks, but there is always a price to be paid.”
“This is too far.”
“You told me,” he said as he placed a shaking hand on my shoulder, “that you wanted to watch this man suffer. I’m giving you that gift.”
“Not like this.”
“Dom is strong. He can get through this.”
“He doesn’t even know, does he?”
“Of course not. He’s still in the closet.”
“You would out your own brother—“
“For you.” His hand trailed to my cheek. “I told you that you never had to be a victim to anyone in this world again. This is how that works, by always staying a step ahead of everyone else.”
I clenched my eyes shut and tried to rationalize what he was about to do. It didn’t take long. Soon, I came to the realization that he was right, whether or not he actually was. I knew what I felt, and I felt the burning satisfaction of revenge coursing through my veins.
“Are you sure Dom will be alright?”
Brick forced a smile. “I’m sure.”
And I knew that he couldn’t possibly know that. Hell, I knew he didn’t even believe it. But revenge often buries the truth in the interest of success. I felt for Dom, but found an unprecedented swell of ecstasy within. Mason Tucker was going to pay for what he did to me, but I knew that once that tape was leaked, I would never be the same again.
Though it wasn’t I that released the tape, I didn’t stop it. I sold my soul that day in the name of retribution and power.
And I was on top of the world, with no intention of ever coming back down.
Chapter 9
PRESENT
I waited until Cece climbed into a taxi and disappeared into the night before making my way down the street toward the Apex—the shared apartment community of Brick and Jensen.
While ascending to the nineteenth floor, I prayed that I would avoid an awkward run-in with Jensen. The last thing I need right now is him believing that I’m stalking him. The elevator doors bounce open and I step out onto the carpeted floors.
The lights that adorn the walls, perched just below the ceiling, create the illusion that the sun hasn’t set yet. But the illusion is easily shattered by the floor-to-ceiling windows that cap off both ends of the long hallway.
I make my way to the right, and fumble through my sparkling clutch for a key. I retrieve it and twist it into the lock, popping the door open and making my way into Brick’s dark apartment.
His apartment is that of a young professional—even though he hasn’t worked a day in his life. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Brick was able to move from a cushy dorm to a penthouse suite once he had served his mandatory year in dormitory hell.
I turn left and make my way down a short hallway where moans of mixed sexes can be heard through the thin door of a bedroom. I smile to myself as I push the door open.
Brick is on his back, his body tangled in blue, silk sheets. Two blonde-haired women are in turn, tangled around him. It’s an erotic display of a prelude to an orgy.
“Get the hell out,” I scream angrily, but it’s an act. Both women whip their heads to face me. The blank expressions on their face characterize fear, embarrassment and shock. “Get out.”
One girl has the right idea and scrambles past me, but the other one seems to have a fighting spirit that I can get behind. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Your worst damn nightmare if you don’t hop into that thong of yours and hit the elevator in the next sixty seconds.”
“Whatever.” She scoffs and swipes her panties off the floor. “Call me, Brick,” she says in such a high-pitch squeal that I almost lose my hearing.
“Fat chance of that happening, trick.” Once she exits the bedroom, I push the door shut and turn to brick with a wicked smile.
“What the fuck was that about?” Brick asks as he shoots up in bed and pulls the sheet over his erection. “Jealous?”
“Nothing.” I flip a switch beside the door, turning the lights on. Brick winces and shields his eyes from the light. “Just wanted to have a little fun.”
“I’d say you succeeded.”
“And you’re not even angry.” I move to take a seat on the edge of the bed, hitching my dress up in the process.
“That’s because you can finish the job.” He whips the sheets off the side of the bed, and spreads his legs, drawing attention to his rock-hard erection. “Besides, bitches come and go.”
“Sleazebag.”
He rolls onto his side and presses his palm against my stomach. “What are you doing here?”