by Lexi Ryan
“You deserve it.” He takes the seat beside me but sits sideways on the chair so he faces me. “Do you remember telling me that you wanted to grow up and marry a guy who made you feel special every day?”
“Everyone wants that,” I say. But maybe not as much as I do. Other girls expect it. I, on the other hand, grew up watching the way my father treated my mother—as if she was the hired help or expendable. For me, it’s not an expectation—it’s something I only dare to hope can be. Something I’m not sure I believe is real.
“I’ve always believed that guy would be me, but I saw he was texting you and freaked out.”
“Guys aren’t allowed to text me now.”
He swallows hard and bites his lip. “Trish told me that you and Arrow had a thing. She said I was stupid if I couldn’t see it and that you’d leave me in a second for him.”
This is the part where I’m supposed to say, “And you believed her?” But I don’t. The question is as good as a lie. So I choose a different one. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it instead of unzipping your pants?”
“Because sometimes I’m a coward.” He bites his lip and grimaces before meeting my gaze. “And it was easier to look at your phone.”
He said something about texts this morning, but I was too distracted by what Nic told me about Mom to fully register anything. “I still don’t know what texts you’re talking about.”
“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have looked.” He draws in a long breath. “I knew you were friends, but seeing it like that just seemed to confirm everything she’d said. And I already know how much he makes you smile.”
“Brogan—”
“I warm the bench while I watch my friends compete in a sport I’ve dedicated my life to. I only get to go in when they need someone to block for Arrow or to do kick returns. Playing second string means there’s someone better. I didn’t want to be second string to you. And I panicked because I thought I was. What I didn’t realize was being your second string trumps not being your anything. Every day of the week.”
“I never thought of you as my second string,” I say, and suddenly I don't care what he’s done or who betrayed whom. I want to curl into his strong arms and let him hold me. I want to listen to him talk to me about the future and let his dreams be mine. Brogan isn’t Arrow, and that’s a good thing. Arrow and I can’t be. Not after what I learned from my brother. Not even before. But Brogan? He’s a good guy. Sometimes his insecurities motivate him to make terrible decisions, but I could say the same of half the people I know.
“I’m so sorry. Let me prove myself to you, Mia. I know you don’t owe it to me, but I’m asking anyway.”
“I can’t promise we can come back from this, Brogan.” But I want to try, I realize. Maybe I’m scared to be alone. Maybe I can’t stand to see him hurting this much. Or maybe I’m selfish and need a buffer between me and Arrow.
“We’ll take it slow. Tonight, let me feed you. This weekend, maybe you’ll let me take you out. We’ll start over and you can decide . . .” He draws in a ragged breath. “You can decide if I’m worth the kind of forgiveness it’ll take to get us through this.”
“And what happens the next time you feel insecure, Brogan? What happens when I laugh at another guy’s jokes or don’t at yours?”
“I remind myself that I’d rather play the bench than not at all. Because it’s true, Mia.”
“That breaks my heart,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you to see yourself as playing the bench with the girl you end up with. I want you to believe you’re the star. You’re worth that.”
His mouth opens and then closes, as if he can’t figure out what to say. And then he leans forward and presses his lips to mine.
For a fleeting, ridiculous moment, I wonder if he can taste Arrow there. If he can feel the memory of another man on my lips. But then I let go of that ridiculous thought and part my lips for his kiss, welcoming its warmth.
Tonight I’m lonely, chased into the empty corners of my mind by the ghost of my mother and her decisions. Brogan chases the ghost away, and the loneliness fades. And for that, for now, I’m grateful.
He breaks the kiss, breathing hard, and leans his forehead against mine. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
“Take it as a maybe.” I squeeze my eyes shut. You love this man. This is good. But part of me screeches a warning in the back of my mind that I’m being selfish, that I’m using Brogan to put distance between Arrow and me in the only way I know how.
I shake my head, pushing the thought away. This isn’t about Arrow.
“I don’t know where this is going,” I say, and the words soothe my conscience a bit. “I don’t know if what we have can be salvaged.”
He cups my face in one big hand and gives me a sad smile. “I do, Mia. In this, at least, I have enough confidence for us both. We’re good together.”
“Well hello, romantic evening!”
Brogan and I turn to see Bailey standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her hands on her hips. I saw her this morning after I kicked Arrow out and told her everything. I was grateful to have someone I could tell the truth, and I’m grateful to see her now.
“Fucking A, Brogan,” she says, “you planning to win her back through sugar alone?”
Brogan blushes and shrugs. “If that’s what it takes.”
Bailey saunters to the table, grabs a cookie off a plate, and takes a big bite. “Sweet, delicious, sinful carbs, Batman. God, you want to date me? Because keep this shit coming and I will spread my legs, honey.”
“Bailey!” I laugh, then so do Brogan and Bailey, and then we’re all laughing and it feels damn good. Until the humor leaves Brogan’s face completely and his jaw goes hard.
I follow his gaze to see Arrow standing in the doorway, a bouquet of yellow roses in his hand.
I watch as Arrow takes everything in. The candles, the food, Brogan by my side, and then finally the betrayal marring Brogan’s beautiful face.
“Who are the flowers for?” Brogan asks. His voice is hard, and all the softness from his earlier expression is gone.
Bailey gapes, taking two seconds to look at me then Arrow. “Me,” she says, walking toward him and snatching them from his hand.
Arrow plasters on a smile as Bailey wraps her arms behind his neck.
“Thanks, sexy,” she says, rising onto her toes.
And even though I know she’s trying to help me, even though I know there’s no future for me and Arrow, something inside me breaks at the sight of her lips against his.
“You ready to go?” he asks when he pulls back, and the sexy raspiness of his voice and the way he smolders at her—yes, smolders—is so believable that I, for a ridiculous, panicked second, really don’t know for sure that he didn’t come for Bailey.
Brogan clears his throat and shifts. “Does Mason know about you two?”
“Why?” Bailey asks. “You think Mason owns me or something?”
“Um . . .” Brogan looks to me, and I shrug. I don’t claim to keep up with Bailey’s revolving door of boy-toys, but I didn’t think she’d slept with anyone else since she started messing around with Mason.
“Mason and I are history,” she says.
“Bailey?” I say, and she gives me a hard look. If she and Mason broke up, it’s because of Nic, but this isn’t the time or the place to talk about it. Not that she’d want to hear what I have to say about her pushing Mason aside for my brother.
“You two coming?” Bailey asks. She looks at Arrow. “You’re treating us to sushi, at the place uptown, right?”
He looks to me and Brogan and our joined hands. All of his smolder—pretend or otherwise—fades, but he plays along. “But these two probably want to be alone.”
“What do you say?” Brogan asks. “Sushi sound okay to you?” He leans forward, his lips skimming the shell of my ear. “Or would you rather stay in?” he asks, so only I can hear.
Stay here wi
th Brogan? Maybe hang out in my bed where Arrow touched me so intimately just hours ago? Even if I wanted to, my heart couldn’t take it.
Arrow
Well, dinner was fun. Watching Brogan throw himself all over Mia between dirty glances in my direction. Watching Mia’s defenses melt bit by bit until he had her laughing by the end of the meal. Yep. Barrels of fun. A close second to having my junk punched repeatedly. Very, very close.
I get back to the dorm before Brogan and settle into the couch in the common area with my physiology textbook and a beer. I’ve got a test in A&P Tuesday, and if I don’t get my head together and study, I’m going to bomb. Twenty minutes later, Brogan bursts into the room and slams the door behind him. All I’ve managed to accomplish is opening my textbook to some chapter that may or may not actually be covered on the exam, and a detailed mental recounting of everything that happened between when Mia’s brother knocked on her door and when she kicked me out of the apartment.
I can’t fucking figure it out.
When I lift my head from my book to look at Brogan, he’s glaring at me. Fuck. Did she tell him? “What’s wrong?”
He folds his arms and his nostrils flare as he sneers. “I take responsibility, okay? What I did last night was fucking stupid, and you can stop looking at me like I’m some dirtbag who doesn’t deserve her.”
Okay, so we’re going to do this. Taking a breath, I put my book down on the couch cushion beside me and stand. “She caught you with your dick in another girl’s mouth. You’re going to stand there and tell me that she doesn’t deserve better than that?”
“I fucking screwed up, but can you blame me?”
“Yes. I can. I do.” I step forward, and he throws up both hands and pushes me back. The backs of my legs hit the couch, and I let myself fall into it. “I’m not fighting you just so you can feel better about yourself.” She wouldn’t want me to, and I have to let her make her own choices.
“I saw her phone. I saw your texts.” He drags a hand through his hair and his mouth twists. “You were supposed to be my best friend but you just couldn’t handle that I’m first choice for once.”
“What texts? What are you talking about?”
He pulls out his phone and taps on the screen. It’s a screenshot of my text exchange with Mia from her birthday.
Arrow: I can’t stop thinking about what you did at the Cavern tonight. I had no idea.
Mia: I was drinking. It was a mistake.
Arrow: Was it? It didn’t feel like a mistake.
Mia: We’re not talking about this again.
Arrow: Okay, but I’m at your door. Come open it so I can give you something.
“I saw it on her phone and took a screenshot. I saved it to my phone so I could decide what to do.”
“Why are you looking at Mia’s texts?”
He smacks the phone out of my hand. “Fucking stand up, Arrow. Look me in the eye and tell me nothing happened between you two.”
But I can’t. Of course I can’t. Only now do I realize how incriminating those messages look, but I can’t say nothing happened, and I promised Mia I wouldn’t tell him something did. So I stand, look my best friend in the eye, and say, “You’re the biggest fucking idiot. You had a good thing, and you fucked it up over nothing.”
“I’m not you, Arrow. I’m not the guy the girls fall all over. I’m not the MVP or the smartest kid in the class. I’m none of those things, but I want them all. And maybe . . . maybe I was feeling like I wanted to be some of those things, even for a few drunken minutes in a dark room.”
“That doesn’t make any fucking sense. You might not have everything you want, but you had her, and you’re a fucking idiot for not understanding what that’s worth.”
He snatches the phone off the couch and holds it up. “Was I supposed to ignore this?”
“I was texting her because I had no idea she could sing like that. You would have known that if you’d asked her, but you assumed the worst. Or maybe you wanted an excuse. Trish has been following you around for months, just waiting for her chance.”
Brogan steps back—one step, two—then collapses into a chair. “She didn’t cheat on me.” He tugs on his hair with both hands and stares at the ceiling. “I see the way you look at her, Arrow. I know she sees it too, and I’ve spent all these months waiting for the moment she’d figure it out and leave me.”
“Figure what out?”
He drops his hands to the arms of the chair and lowers his gaze to meet mine. “Figure out you were the better guy. Why would any girl want me when she could be with you?”
Guilt gnaws at my stomach. I sink onto the couch and lean forward, my elbows on my knees. I can’t look at him.
He swallows so hard I hear it. “I was so convinced it was coming that I didn’t question it. I just assumed. I don’t want to be that guy. I don’t want to be the dick, but she kept putting off being with me, and I get that it’s her religion or whatever, but it started to eat at me. You know, like maybe it’s not sex that’s the problem but me.”
I snap my head up. “What did you say?”
“I don’t want to be like that,” he says, wincing. “But we’ve been together for a year, Arrow, and a guy starts to wonder.”
“She hasn’t . . . You two haven’t . . .” Yep, now I’m stuttering.
“Don’t look at me like that. I love her, okay? I’m trying to be patient.” He throws his head back and groans. “I was trying. I screwed up everything.”
How long can a heart race without oxygen? Because blood whooshes through my ears but I can’t breathe. I can’t freaking breathe. She was still a virgin? I assumed in all the time since we talked about it she and Brogan would have . . . But they didn’t.
Fuck. And she didn’t think that was important to tell me? She never had sex with Brogan, but then one night with me and—
“Arrow?” Brogan calls, and I can tell by his tone that he’s waiting for me to answer a question.
“I’m sorry. What?”
“You don’t deny it, do you? You have feelings for her. Tell me I wasn’t completely insane.” The accusation is gone from his tone. Brogan is back. My empathetic buddy who gets that life just isn’t fair sometimes, who gets it better than anybody, because life is never fucking fair to him.
Mia was a virgin. It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.
Fuck. It matters so much. That means something, doesn’t it? But as much as I want to believe it means I’m more to her than she says, I’m afraid it only reinforces what she hinted at the night of her birthday. She thinks what we have is like what her mom and dad had—the hot, fast-burning passion. The impulsive mistake.
Brogan stares at me. Waiting for me to answer his question. No point in denying it. Chris knew; Brogan knew. Clearly it’s all over my face every time I look at her.
I swallow hard. “Do you know what we talked about on her birthday? After I stopped by to give her my present?”
Brogan grimaces. I could always read him like a book, and right now he’s trying to decide if he really wants to know or if maybe the truth might hurt even worse than his suspicions.
“We talked about you,” I say, putting him out of his misery. “I asked her if you made her happy.” When he opens his mouth to say something, I hold up a hand. “I know. That’s not the kind of thing you ask your best friend’s girl, but I did. Maybe I wanted her to tell me she was lonely with you or that you weren’t good to her. I don’t know what I expected, but it’s not what I got.”
He rubs the seam at the end of the chair arm. “What did she say?”
“She compared you to the sun. You keep her safe and warm.” I don’t want to lie to him at all, so I’m glad I don’t have to lie to him about this. I’m glad I don’t have to pretend. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about her, Brogan. You’re the one she wants.” I’m the fire. The danger. I’m the mistake.
“I screwed up.” He turns to me, looking me in the eye for the first time all day, and says, “I didn’t believ
e I was even capable of hurting her. But you should have seen her face this morning. Christ, I didn’t even know she cared that much, but when I pulled up at her dad’s, she looked like she’d been cut in two.” He swallows. “I knew she loved me, but I didn’t believe she was in love with me. Maybe if I’d believed it, maybe if I had any fucking self-esteem, I wouldn’t have assumed the worst from those texts, and I wouldn’t have been such an idiot last night.”
I stand up. I don’t have it in me to sit here and listen to him bemoan his mistakes. I’m all out of sympathy. When I get to my bedroom door, I stop. I keep my gaze trained on the doorknob as I ask, “Have you heard her sing?”
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” He sighs heavily. “That’s her thing, you know? She’s just too scared to go after it. Too practical.”
“She told you her thing.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud. But there it is. Standing in the room with us like an unwanted guest who shares your secrets.
“Of course she did, Arrow. She’s my girlfriend.”
Part VII: After
Mia
“Mia, could you come in here, please?” Gwen calls from the study as I walk by.
I stop in the middle of the text I was writing to Bailey and tuck my phone into my pocket.
Gwen’s standing behind Uriah’s desk, holding fabric swatches against the dark walnut furniture.
“Can I do something for you, Gwen?” I ask.
The picture of irritation, she flips through the swatches, past a bunch of dark paisley prints that would be a better fit for the gentlemen’s club look Uriah has going on in here, and stops when she lands on a pure white swatch the texture of velvet. “I saw Arrow coming out of your room this morning,” she says.
Shit. “Gwen, I—”
She holds up a hand. “Listen. I feel like somewhere along the way, you may have gotten the idea that you and I are friends, and I know I’m young, and I know I don’t come from money, so maybe you think that makes us twinsies or some shit. But we’re not. And you’re not my friend. You’re my employee. You’re not Arrow’s friend. You’re Arrow’s employee. So if you want to make fucking him part of your job description, go for it. But if you think you’re going to sleep your way into a better position in this house, you can forget about it right now. It didn’t work for your mother, and it’s not going to work for you.”