by K. L. Myers
Alissa opened the passenger-side door and stepped out. She ran up the sidewalk, then took the stairs two at a time until she reached the landing for her floor. With a quick wave, she smiled and then disappeared.
Braxton sat hunched over, looking out the passenger-side window even after Alissa had disappeared. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. Maybe he hoped she would change her mind, run down the stairs, jump back into the car and beg him to take her back to his place. He was lost in that daydream until he heard a soft whimper from the back seat, pulling him back to reality.
Paisley whispered into the night air, “Not her. Please, not her.”
Braxton had no idea what she was talking about. Was she having a bad dream of some sort? She continued to mumble random thoughts the rest of the drive back to her place.
“Time to get you to bed,” Braxton called out as he turned the key in the ignition. He put the car in drive and headed toward Paisley’s apartment.
When they arrived, he, of course, couldn’t wake her. She was out like a light. Braxton was left with no other choice than to pull her from the back seat and with her in his arms he carried her to her door. Unsure what to do once he reached it, he attempted to set her down briefly using his leg to support her body as he reached into the pocket of her jeans to retrieve her house keys. Her hips began to sway slightly as her center began to rub against his thigh. A soft moan flew from her lips. It surprised him a bit, but her words shocked him.
“Touch me, Brax.”
Braxton’s head snapped up to find Paisley awake. Her eyes were blazing with lust. That wasn’t how they looked at each other. They’d been friends, best friends, forever and they’d never looked at each other that way. They didn’t think about each other in that way.
“What did you say, Paisley?” Braxton’s brows furrowed in confusion.
“Your hand in my pocket.” Paisley glanced to where it was still resting, sending warmth through her clothing.
When Braxton didn’t respond, her hips rocked against him, her center sliding up and down on his leg. Electricity zapped through Braxton when he felt her heat through her jeans and his. He was slightly aroused by the sensation, but he chalked it up to the lust he was still feeling for Alissa.
Braxton quickly snatched his hand back clutching the keys. Pushing Paisley’s body away from his own but not far enough that she would fall. Holding up the keys, he shook them once before he unlocked the front door and opened it.
Paisley slid past him, not paying attention to the threshold, and began to trip. He reached out for her, pulling her to him to keep her from falling to the ground.
She looked at him with heat and desire burning in her eyes. This time her breasts were pressing against his chest, firmly ensuring that he felt how hard her nipples were beneath her shirt. Her lips were slightly parted, and Braxton couldn’t look away as her tongue darted out slowly and ran along her top lip.
When she spoke, her declaration was loud and clear. “I want you, Brax.”
He was about to tell her that she was just drunk, but her lips crashed against his, her arms wrapping around his neck. Her tongue tried to push between his slightly parted lips, but as fast as he possibly could, his hands grasped for hers and he untangled her arms from around his neck. Then he forced her back, breaking the unreciprocated kiss.
As awkward as the moment was, Braxton didn’t want to hurt his friend or their friendship. “I think it’s time you climb into bed, alone, and sleep the alcohol off.”
Paisley shoved away from his body, shifted right some, and stumbled forward, putting distance between Braxton and herself. She appeared to say something but then turned and fled as best she could toward the bathroom.
The sound of retching reached him before he could make it to the bathroom door. Paisley’s tiny body convulsed with each projection of bile that left her body. When she was finally through, and nothing had been expelled from her for at least ten minutes, she laid limp against the porcelain, seemingly to bring herself to stand.
“Oh, Paisley, what am I going to do with you?” His voice was compassionate. And even though he didn’t want to send her the wrong message, he honestly did care about her.
Braxton reached out and placed one arm around her waist and the other under her knees, lifting her into his arms. Only this time, he didn’t pull her quite so tight as he carried her to her bed.
He placed her on the mattress and assessed the situation. As much as he knew she’d hate waking up in the morning still dressed in the puke-stained clothes from the evening before, he couldn’t bring himself to undress her. So, he pulled one side of her comforter over and covered her just as she was—alcohol and bile sullied her shirt.
He closed her bedroom door before making his way to the living room. Once he reached the sofa, he sat and began to strip off his shirt. It would be best if he just left. But the boy in him who had grown up with the girl in her couldn’t imagine leaving her alone, not like this. He worried about the what-ifs. But most of all, he needed to process what she’d just revealed to him. Everything ran through his head as he lay there on the sofa waiting for morning to come.
Chapter 7
The sunlight entered through the cracks in the blinds, radiating a warm heat into Paisley's room. When she opened her eyes, the light was so bright she quickly pulled a pillow over her head.
“I’m never drinking again,” she moaned.
Silently, she prayed that she could hold back the bile as it moved up her throat. “Don’t do it, stomach. Please stay put.”
As she lay there, she tried to recall why she was in her bed, completely dressed, and smelling like a brewery. She remembered dinner with everyone, ordering several drinks, but after that she had no recollection.
Her mouth was as dry as the desert in midsummer. She licked her lips to moisten them. The minutes passed and Paisley attempted to roll herself out of bed slowly but found herself falling onto the floor. Making the best of her predicament, she moved on hands and knees to the bathroom.
Paisley didn’t bother to stand or turn on the bathroom light. She just undressed very slowly crawled into the tub. Rather than standing, she found herself sitting with her legs crossed and her head resting on the tops of her kneecaps as the water rained over her. Minutes passed before she found the strength to wash.
Little by little, Paisley started to feel somewhat human again. Her head still pounded, but at least she didn’t stink anymore. When the water finally ran cold, Paisley reached for the knob before turning off the water. Cautiously, she stepped from the tub, reaching for two towels. One she twisted around her head, and the other she wrapped around her body.
Her legs were wobbly as she made her way back to her room to dress. Black yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt were all she could muster the strength to put on. Fantasies of coffee and toast danced in her head as she stumbled down the hall to the kitchen.
When she reached the entrance to the living room, she stopped in her tracks, finding Braxton was lying bare-chested on her sofa, sound asleep.
She stood there for a moment taking in his rock-hard upper body, sculpted abs, and wow, morning wood. He was still dressed in his jeans but the hard outline of an impressive erection pressed against his jeans. She couldn’t bring herself to stop looking at it. Her mouth salivated at the thought of what he would look like completely undressed, his naked body ready for her to ravish.
Braxton’s eyes fluttered open. “Morning.” His voice was still groggy.
Paisley’s neck began to heat with embarrassment at getting caught gawking at him. “Morning, Brax.”
“You feel okay this morning?”
Paisley closed her eyes briefly, taking an assessment of how she was now feeling, ensuring she had all her senses before she spoke. “Considering I feel like shit and barely remember last night, I feel okay.” She closed her eyes once more, scanning her brain for anything that would give her a clue as to how the evening had ended or why he was on her sofa. But she still came up em
pty. “I think I need coffee. You want some?”
Braxton sat up on the sofa, tugging his shirt over his head. “You don’t remember last night?”
She shook her head and watched his face for his reaction. His eyes squinted briefly, sending shivers through her. Did he not believe her? Did he think she was lying? “I don’t recall anything past the first two drinks. Please tell me I didn’t make a fool of myself and dance on the table in the restaurant.”
Braxton laughed for a moment “No, nothing like that at all.”
Paisley breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I’m not sure I could survive if I had.”
She stepped into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder to Braxton as she poured water into the Keurig, “Coffee?”
Braxton had followed her but stopped beside the breakfast bar. “Nah, I have shit to do today. I should have been up and moving hours ago.”
She was still confused as to why Braxton was asleep on her sofa. “Why did you stay here last night?”
“Because you were drunker than shit. I had to hold your hair back twice as you puked everywhere, so I thought it best I stay and make sure you were going to be okay and didn’t need anything.”
Paisley winced at the thought of Braxton seeing her puke. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her sick in bed before. She recalled the time when she’d had the chicken pox, and her face was covered in red dots and her hair unwashed for days. He’d caught her peeking through her bedroom door when he’d come over to hang with Paxton. However, the thought of him watching her throw up bothered her.
“Thanks, Brax. Sorry you had to see me like that.”
Making his way into the kitchen, his hand squeezed her shoulder, letting her know that she had his support. “That’s what friends are for.”
His emphasis on the word friends didn’t get past her. She felt it odd that he would say the word with such intensity. Before she could ask him what he’d meant by his comment, Braxton was already out the front door.
Paisley’s stomach started growling around three in the afternoon, begging for real food. She had been so queasy all day that she had nothing more than broth and a couple of crackers. A quick assessment of her fridge indicated that she had only cold pizza. It would have to do.
Her head was still pounding, but she knew she needed to eat and keep hydrated. She reached for a bottle of water from the fridge, then twisted the cap off the Tylenol and downed a few pills before she tore two slices from the pizza box, placed them on a paper plate and quickly made her way toward the living room. Her phone began vibrating on the coffee table as she walked toward it.
Paisley sat down and brought the pizza to her lips. Her front teeth sank into the cold cheese and crust, as she leaned forward and reached for her phone. Her eyes closed as she reveled in the taste of three-day-old pizza before she looked down to see who was texting her.
ALISSA: How are you feeling?
ALISSA: Hungover? You were really wasted last night.
Paisley finished her mouthful and then took another small sip of water.
ALISSA: Are you ignoring me? Or are you still asleep? Call me when you get this.
Paisley took another bite and tried to force herself to remember last night, yet still nothing came to mind. It was all just a blur. Defeated by the fact that she couldn’t recall anything, she laid her head on the sofa pillow and covered herself with a blanket. She wasn’t ready to communicate with Alissa just yet so she ignored her texts.
Her eyes drifted closed several times as she tried to watch a rerun of Two and a Half Men. About halfway through, she couldn’t fight her desire for sleep and she happily gave in to the darkness, hoping that when she woke, her headache would be completely gone.
She was naked; her chest heaved quickly as if she’d run a marathon. She was straddling a form below her. The body had no face, just rock-hard abs and a dick so rigid it laid against what she knew to be a man’s belly. The length of his erection had the head almost touching his belly button. On instinct, she began to slide her wet core up and down the velvety soft steel, teasing herself into release. But it never came.
Darkness—she was alone. The naked body no longer beneath her.
“Touch me,” she said into the nothingness.
Lips, her lips, brushed softly against another’s. Then there was blackness once again.
She whispered the words, “I love you.”
A faceless male form stood before her. She flung herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands quickly untangled her, pushing her away. She squinted harder at the blurry figure, trying to make out who it possibly could be. She heard a masculine voice tell her to sleep it off. Then there was darkness once again.
She was naked in front of the blurry presence once more. She blinked a couple of times, and the blurriness disappeared. Braxton up right before her, shirtless. His lips were parted. “That’s what friends are for.”
Paisley’s body shot up on the sofa. Her legs kicked at the blanket to free themselves. As fast as she possibly could, she ran for the bathroom before dropping to the floor. And in a repeat of last night, she emptied her stomach into the toilet.
A sinking feeling overcame her. She cried, “Oh, my God. Please no.” Please tell me I didn’t say I loved him.
But she knew that it was true. Of course you did. Right after you tried humping his leg like a dog.
Paisley thought hard, questioning herself. He didn’t reciprocate my words.
Did you think he would? Has he ever shown interest before? It’s time to be honest with yourself, Paisley.
Paisley’s inner turmoil continued throughout the evening, and in the end, she wondered how she was ever going to be able to face him again.
Chapter 8
Graduation Day
Alissa sat three rows ahead of Braxton, her red hair flowing beneath her cool blue cap. The goldenrod sash with the word Berkeley on one side and the school crest on the other was draped over her shoulders
Braxton’s heart skipped a beat, she belonged to him and only him. He relished in knowing that he’d be the one who held her heart for eternity, just as she held his.
Braxton had never felt this way about anyone before. The closest thing he’d come to any sort of love was the way he felt about his two best friends. They’d always held a spot in his heart. So much so that there’d been little room for his own family. He cared about them, but they’d never put him first. Not like Paxton and Paisley had.
The sun was beating down on them from above, the wind blowing just enough so that Braxton was not sweating beneath his cap and gown. He wore jeans and a wife beater underneath the formal getup even though Northern California was cooler in May than Southern California, sitting in the sun was bound to cause him to perspire.
He took a moment to steal a glance behind him and his excitement stirred as Paisley smiled his way. She was beaming and he was so proud of her and all of her accomplishments. Paisley was graduating at the top of their class—something her brother hadn’t accomplished over at Stanford. Braxton couldn’t wait to see him and rub that little tidbit in. He had always enjoyed screwing with Paxton.
It saddened Braxton knowing that Paxton would be moving out east to conquer his dreams. New York wasn’t that far away, but it wasn’t like he could just jump in the car and be there for dinner. He’d always known the twins might not be in his life forever, but he had dreamt of them going into business together.
The microphone squealed, the sound reminiscent of fingers scratching down a chalkboard, and immediately Braxton’s attention was directed to the front.
Chancellor Pike’s voice boomed. “Welcome, proud parents, grandparents, brothers, and sisters. More importantly, welcome, graduating class.”
Braxton tuned out the chancellor as the proceedings commenced.
When he’d landed his job with Axis Media back in LA, he’d been worried that Alissa wouldn’t come with him—that she’d stay here in San Francisco or worse, head back to New York. H
er family had returned to the city after her grandmother had passed last year.
Braxton had always known she was homesick, which more than likely meant his time with her would be coming to an end. He would be heading home brokenhearted if good fortune didn’t come her way.
But someone was looking out for them when an opportunity arose with Starz. Alissa had interned with them last summer, and a position had opened unexpectedly that she’d applied for. She hadn’t told Braxton because she hadn’t wanted him to get his hopes up and then have to let him down if it hadn’t come to fruition. But last night, she’d received the official offer, and now it looked as if he and his girl would be heading south together tomorrow.
When Braxton had shown up at Paisley’s this morning to share the great news with her, she’d been less than pleased. He hadn’t expected her to do summersaults but he’d thought she’d be happy for him.
She’d opened the door to her apartment, lips turned up, showing off her perfect smile. But as he’d spoken, the luster in her eyes just hadn’t matched the smile on her face.
And when she’d congratulated him, her voice was low, and he’d sworn he’d heard it break. “Oh, Brax, that’s awesome. I’m so happy for you.”
He’d known her long enough to see her fake smile when she used it. It had been time to do some damage control, so he’d opened his arms wide as a gesture for her to walk into them. And she had. Once she was settled between them, he’d wrapped her uptight and held on.
He’d wanted her to know that she was still an important person in his life and that he would always be concerned about her and her feelings. “Tell me what’s wrong, butterfly?”
Paisley’s head had lifted so that her eyes had met with his. He had seen her confusion as she’d spoken. “Butterfly? You always called me caterpillar.”
He’d hated that she hadn’t understood. There had been a time when their brains were in sync, and she would have instantly known why he was now calling her that. He had stepped away, breaking their hold, and touched his finger to her nose. “That was before you morphed into the amazing woman you are right now. You’ve accomplished so much, graduating with honors, and your grade point is higher than Paxton’s.”