by Becca Lee
It was no good. Love Story had to go. I flicked off the TV, ignoring the look of longing on Ryan O’Neal’s face. Sad, love movie, mixed with a crappy-version of a cocktail, combined with a wonderful, bizarre, emotional day and I was done for. I knocked back my gross drink, stood on wobbly legs to go take a pee in the cramped bathroom, and finally curled myself up into a ball underneath the blankets.
Chapter Two
Preston
I still had the taste of Ella on my lips. Since I was fifteen years old, I had been fantasising about kissing her. The real thing was so much better than the fantasy. I had a raging hard-on to prove it, even though I was still standing outside the elevator in the hotel foyer in shock. She’d run. I thought after we sat down, I’d finally be able to seduce her. There was so much more than hot kissing that I wanted to do with her.
“Shit!” I banged my palm on the closed elevator doors. I shook my head. I couldn’t believe she had run. Ella, feisty, loudmouth, no-talking-shit Ella, had actually clammed up and run away from me. Part of me wanted to race up to her room, bang loudly on the door, and force her to deal with this. If it ended up with the two of us sprawled naked in bed getting heavy and sweaty, then all the better. But shit, she’d run!
“Preston.” The voice of my mum behind me made me groan. There was one easy way to get rid of a raging hard-on, and she was standing right behind me.
“Hey, Mum.” I turned to look at her and smiled. “Why aren’t you at the party?”
“They’re just about to leave. I thought you’d want to say a proper goodbye to your sister.”
“Sure thing, Mum.” I walked up to her, pulled her small frame into my side and wrapped my arm around her shoulders.
“Have you seen Ella?” Her voice sounded innocent enough, but when I looked down at her face, her eyes danced with amusement and her lips were curled into a smile.
“Nope.”
“But I thought—”
“Please, Mum, just leave it.” I sighed heavily. “I think she’s gone to her room.”
Mum wore a frown. She didn’t say a word; she simply looped her arm around my waist and gave me a tight squeeze. I kissed her on the top of her head as we walked outside and back to the marquee.
My sister and Liam were making their way around family and friends, kissing, hugging and laughing. They were ready to leave for their week away in Hawaii. We waited near the door and my dad joined us. He raised his eyebrows at Mum in a silent question when he took in my strained face. I felt Mum shake her head. Dad nodded and made his way to Mum. I released my arm and he took over.
I needed to school my face better. I was too damned readable.
Jo and Liam appeared in front of me. I could see the look of concern in her eyes. Forcing a smile on my face, I gave her a tight embrace. “Have an amazing time, Mrs Mason. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and I’ll see you in a week.”
She held on for a little bit longer and kissed my cheek. “Love you, Preston.” She pulled away, looked at me briefly before moving on to our crying mum.
“Hey, Liam, you take good care of my big sister.” Liam shook my hand and leaned in for a slight hug and man-pat on the back.
“No worries, there, Preston. You say goodbye to Ella for us, right?” He formed a ridiculously large smile.
“Whatever, man. Just take care of her.”
He gave me a nod and moved on to my mum, who was still sobbing, while my dad was trying to release Jo from her vice-like grip.
After catcalls and waves, Jo and Liam left the marquee and the party officially began to wind down. I took that as my cue to get out of there. I said goodnight to my parents and made my way to the hotel.
Outside my hotel room, I looked at Ella’s closed door. I was tempted to go and knock, and demand that we talk or kiss it out. Either would do. I just couldn’t handle radio silence. Thinking better of it, I opened my door and made my way into my room. I’d deal with it in the morning. No fucking way was she running again.
***
The heavy curtains blocked out all light, confusing the hell out of me as I picked up my phone to look at the time. It was just gone 8 am. I needed to get my arse out of bed if I wanted to get some breakfast at the hotel before I made the short journey home. I took a quick shower and threw on a clean pair of jeans and a white tee. Grabbing the key card, I left my room and hesitated outside of Ella’s door.
Screw it! I refused to only be seen as Jo’s brother and simply Ella’s friend. I knocked on the door and waited for a few seconds. I leaned my ear against the door, listening for sounds. After what felt like ten minutes, but was more like five seconds, I heard a groan, followed by movement and unsteady footsteps heading toward the locked door.
Ella opened the door wearing her figure-hugging tank top, and barely-there sleep shorts. Hell, she looked hot. Her red hair was half up in a ratty band and partially covered her face. When she looked up at me with squinty eyes she grunted, turned around and walked back toward the bed.
Pushing out my arm, I caught the door and followed her in. She climbed into bed and hid under her rumpled sheets. The room, like mine, was bathed in darkness, so I headed to the thick curtains and opened them. The light spilled in, causing Ella to whimper. I took in the dishevelled room. The bedside table was littered with empty spirit bottles from the mini-bar, and a Coke can.
“What did the mini-bar ever do to you? Did you clean the damn thing out last night or what?” I made my way to her covered form and sat next to her on the bed. She grunted once again as the bed dipped under my weight. The scene before me—a hungover Ella hiding under the sheets on a Sunday morning—was not new to me. We’d spent a lot of time together over the last few years, especially since Liam came along. I reached out to touch her before reconsidering and bringing my hand back. For years it had been more than okay, expected, even, to pounce on her and cause her all sorts of shit, yet because of one fucking amazing kiss—scrap that, two fucking amazing kisses—I no longer felt able to.
My inner voice mentally whacked myself around the head a few times. I should have made my move years ago. If I’d said something before Fuckwit entered the scene, completely screwing her over and hammering it home that men were not to be fucking trusted, then this awkward shit would never have happened. Her heart would never have been crushed, and we’d be lying in bed nursing hangovers together. I had no doubt in my mind that if she would give me the chance, it would be forever.
I was a prize dick for not going for it. Although, she’d never once looked at me as anything other than Jo’s baby fucking brother, and the thought grated on my nerves.
It would change today. No more pussy footing around being the ‘good’ friend. I would find a way to make sure that she never looked at another man.
I took a deep breath, my plan of attack forming in my mind. I reached my hand over to her still form and started shaking the living shit out of her hungover arse. “Come on, El. The bacon awaits. El, El, El ...” I was going for familiarity, and playing innocent. “Get your sweet arse outta bed now, beautiful, before I get under the covers and make you scream.” Okay, maybe I’d never tried this plan of attack before, but damn, I’d thought about it for years.
Her body froze under my hands; I felt her muscles become taut at my words. Shit, did her breathing just speed up? Interesting!
Her voice sounded strained when she spoke. “You wouldn’t dare.”
That’s it, baby. Play right into my hands. “Is that a challenge, baby?” I lifted my hand and began to move it under the covers. It landed perfectly on her impressive backside. She squeaked, threw back the covers and ran to the bathroom.
I heard her voice through my laughter. “I’m up and awake, arsehole.”
Ten minutes later, after the quickest shower I’d ever known her to take, she leaned out of the bathroom door, skin wet and wrapped in a towel. My eyes soaked her in and I shifted my jeans in discomfort.
“Erm ... I forgot my clothes.”
My lustful eye
s swept up and down her body. I’d seen her countless times in a similar state of undress, but had always had to rein in my appreciation. Not anymore. El was going to finally understand exactly how I felt about her.
I looked at her bag next to the side of the bed and raised my right eyebrow, taunting her, making no move to get off the bed.
“Fine. I’ll get it myself,” she huffed out.
She stomped out of the bathroom as it swung quickly behind her on its self-close hinges. As she took another step, her towel tugged against her sharply, falling to the ground. Her towel had been trapped in the ever-loving door.
There was a freaking God after all; it was finally confirmed that he was a man.
My eyes bulged as she screamed and dropped to ground with a heavy thud, knocking her head on the small desk next to her. “Holy fuck! Ouch!”
“Shit.” I jumped off the bed and raced towards her. She lay, ass-naked on the floor, holding her head and swearing like a goddamn sailor. “Babe, let me look.”
Her head jerked up when she realised I was bent before her naked form. “You! This is all your bloody fault. You with your fuck-me eyes and sexy eyebrow-lift. I swear to God, if I’m bleeding, I’ll bust your balls, Preston.”
I froze. Did she just say fuck me and sexy? I grinned when I realised that she had said all of those things. “I’ll go get you some ice, babe.” I leaned down and quickly kissed her startled mouth.
I was convinced that she was mentally going over her angry cussing; it was the only thing that could explain her startled expression. I opened the door to release her towel as I headed to the mini-bar to grab some ice from the tiny freezer compartment. I found a washcloth in the bathroom and used it to hold the ice before heading back to Ella, who was now sitting on the bed securely wrapped in her towel that I would be stealing from the hotel and taking home with me. Who thought it was possible to have such a connection with a piece of linen!
I held the ice to the small lump that was forming on her forehead. She blanched and hissed as I pressed it gently against her. “Thanks,” she whispered.
I smiled, feeling thoroughly the hero. Damn straight, I could totally rock this hero shit. “Any time, babe. Is there anything else you need?”
She moved her head sharply and winced. “You can wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, now, Preston. This is your fucking fault.” She grabbed on to her towel, holding it firmly in her grip, threw the ice on my lap, grabbed her bag and stalked to the bathroom.
I moved the ice off my lap. It had done a pretty good job at cooling my hard-on, leaving a wet patch behind, and apparently, wiping away my dream of hero-worship status.
“So that’ll be a no to help then?” A bang against the bathroom door made me chuckle.
Chapter Three
Ella
Walking into the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast next to a smiling Preston was simply awkward. After the whole towel incident, I wanted to ram my fist in his groin. The only problem with that was that it made me think of his groin, and then specifically his penis, and then sex. I was totally screwed. I was a crazy nervous wreck, and was in desperate need of space and double choc-chip cookie ice cream, yet from the moment his arrogant arse walked into my room, he hadn’t stopped grinning and sidling up to me at every opportunity. This included touching and the random kiss on my lips, head, my shoulder, my cheek. Hell, I half expected him to throw himself on the floor so he could kiss his way up my calf.
My point was that it was frustrating, and sweet, and a whole lot of confusing. Nothing could or would ever happen between baby Preston and me. I’d decided I would deliberately start calling him that after the towel debacle. I knew it would piss him the hell off. Immature? Definitely. Satisfying? Absolutely.
I shuffled into the restaurant in desperate need of the bacon sandwich that baby Preston had promised me. I felt alcohol-induced crappy, and dehydrated. It took me a while as I was wrapped up in thoughts of penises and bacon—not together necessarily, though it may have proved interesting—to realise that virtually the whole restaurant, filled up with Jo and Liam’s family and friends, which meant Preston’s family too, and my parents, had all stopped their conversation and were openly gaping at us. It took all of ten seconds for individuals to nudge one another and smile over in our direction. We even got a couple of winks from Preston’s Uncle Bernie and one from his elderly next-door neighbour, Dot.
My prayers weren’t answered. The ground didn’t open up and swallow me whole. I even stamped my left foot to double check, which inevitably sent a wicked pain through to my head. To make the whole nightmare even more surreal and completely screwed up, Preston clearly thought that it would be hilarious to take hold of my hand and pull me toward the two empty chairs on our parents’ table. Of course, they were sharing a table; that’s what close friends did.
Dumbfounded, I mindlessly allowed him to pull me along. As we edged closer, I played out the best-case scenario to get me out of what was likely to be an even more humiliating meal shared with both sets of parents than the one Jo and I experienced when we were ten years’ old. My mum and Kate, Jo and Preston’s mum, had decided that a Sunday evening meal with both our families would be the opportune time to discuss with us the facts about the menstrual cycle. My dad, who pulled out some paper and colouring pencils, then backed this up, and proceeded to draw a detailed illustration. Jo and I had looked at one another in horror, clinging to each other in our mutual humiliation. It was then that Collin, their dad, had slapped down medium-rare steaks on our plates. The steaks had oozed with so much blood that we screamed, gagged and ran away to our tree house in Jo’s backyard.
Note to self: When you have children, no bloody steak, illustrations or family discussions.
So, this meal was going to be bad. The only play I could think of to avoid it was to feign sickness, which actually wasn’t too far from what I felt like. If I didn’t get bacon in my system soon, I would throw up, and I’d make damned sure I did so in Preston’s lap. Begrudgingly, I carried on along my path of humiliation and interrogation, Preston firmly holding my hand the whole way.
I immediately sat down and pulled up the menu to hide my face and to avoid the smiling, questioning glances. We sat in silence. I had no idea what people were waiting for. I’d expected at least ten questions within the minute I’d been sitting down.
“So, darling, a good night last night?” Mum broke the silence. I considered pretending I couldn’t hear her, but I knew my mum far too well to attempt it. My mum was no shrinking violet. I’d followed in her footsteps and had become a high school teacher; she’d since been promoted. As a Head Teacher, there was no way I could lie, ignore or pull any other crap on her. She simply never bought shit.
I reluctantly lowered my menu and looked across at her. Collin was sitting to her left and there was a smug Preston to her right. I smiled, not quite having to force a genuine smile. It had been an amazing day. Everything I could have hoped for, for Jo. The wedding was perfect. I’d cried happy tears, mixed with a little relief that she hadn’t succumbed to my cruddy fate, if I were honest. The meal was delicious. The marquee had been setup with spectacular views of the North Pacific Ocean. The sand was perfectly white and fans warded off the summer heat. Even the party had been fabulous. Jo had had such an amazing time. She’d laughed, danced and drank. Holy shit. I realised that I hadn’t even said a proper goodbye to her. Some bridesmaid I’d turned out to be. Not only had I made out with her baby brother, but I hadn’t even bothered to cuddle her and say happy humping. I needed to text her as soon as the nightmare breakfast was finished.
“It was a wonderful day, Mum. Jo looked stunning, didn’t she? I’m so happy for them both.” And I was. Liam was a good guy. They’d dated for the past three years, and it was obvious that he loved her. I smiled when I thought about their happiness. She’d found her perfect, and I was so freakin’ beside-myself happy for her.
Mum returned my smile and agreed, “She looked beautiful. Everything was magic
al.” Her attention turned to Kate. “I don’t know how we held it together for so long in the ceremony, do you Kate?” Mum laughed and smiled at her friend.
“I managed to last halfway through the ceremony before I bawled. Collin’s not happy though, apparently.” She gave her husband a disapproving look. “He and John had a whole variety of wagers going on. At our daughter’s wedding. It serves him right that he thought I’d break in five minutes.”
We all laughed. Dad and Collin were renowned for their wagers. It had become their ‘thing’ over the last ten years or so. It drove Mum and Kate to despair.
The waitress interrupted and took our order. Just Preston and I needed to eat as our parents had already finished. Coffee and a bacon sandwich would quickly fix me up.
My dad cleared his throat uncomfortably, drawing our attention to him. “Are ... er ... I mean to say ... erm ... Are ...” He fidgeted in his seat. I looked at Mum, who frowned. I noticed it grew deeper as she took in his shiftiness.
“John,” she warned.
Collin chose that moment to step in. “So, what we’re all wondering, you two ...” Shit, here it comes. “... is are you two now together? An item?”
“Collin!” Kate snapped. “Mind your own business.”
I looked away from four pairs of gawking eyes. All four held questions, even though our mums were being too polite to take it any further. I glared at a grinning Preston, who looked entirely too happy to have the question asked. I kicked out at his shin, causing him to jolt his leg up high, knee the table and cry out, “Holy shit! What was that for?”
Erm ... I don’t know, maybe for kissing me and tasting so damn delicious? Maybe for holding my hand in public? Maybe for looking far too hot in that sexy, snug tee when you should just be looking like Jo’s little brother? The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I chose the much more sophisticated reaction of scowling, hard. I would have kicked him again, but I was convinced he’d moved his legs out of the way. Coward.