The Consequence of Loving Me: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Aftershock Series Book 1)

by Kat Singleton

  Bitch.

  “Tomorrow?” I offer.

  6

  Maverick

  I stare at the droplet of condensation that slides down my beer. It slowly descends over the red label, slithers down the brown bottle, and disappears as it hits the old wooden tabletop of our booth.

  “I can’t believe we’ll be gone for Thanksgiving,” Lily rants from across the booth, taking a long pull of her own beer.

  My twin sister Lily, Selma, and I sit at Lenny’s. It’s been a few hours since we showed Veronica the new place, and because we all have the night off, we met here for a few beers. Plus, it’s been a few days since I’ve seen my sister, which I know drives her nuts. So here I am, being brother of the year.

  “I know. I was looking forward to seeing your parents,” Selma responds next to me, fumbling with the wrapper of her straw. She folds it over and over again.

  “Oh, you’ll still see them,” Lily continues, resting her head on her hand and leaning closer to the two of us.

  It’s a Thursday night at Lenny’s, which means it’s packed with both underage and of age college students—it being Thirsty Thursday and all. The verdict is still out if this place will wind up getting shut down by the health inspector or the cops, but it’s still one of my favorite places. It’s familiar, an old hangout we’ve been coming to ever since we were all bright-eyed and eighteen and would do anything for a cheap beer we could get our hands on.

  The walls of Lenny’s are completely covered in dollar bills. Some of them are signed, or have pictures drawn on them. It’s a typical dive bar. Old neon signs illuminate the place. Every table is covered in people’s artwork and names.

  “Did you hear that, Mav?” Lily questions, kicking me under the table.

  “Hmm?” I ask, bringing my attention back to her. My hand absentmindedly finds Selma’s leg next to mine, and I rest it against her thigh.

  “Mom and Dad are coming to watch our tournament in Missouri over Thanksgiving holiday. They’re staying in the same hotel with us. The team is doing some fancy dinner for Thanksgiving. Which means you’ll be all alone here. Unless you could go, too?”

  Selma leans in closer to me, using her actions to show me she would also like me to be there to watch their volleyball tournament. Both of them play on the team, and the team has a great chance of going to state this year. I wish I could be there to watch them.

  “You know I can’t,” I begin, taking a moment to take a long sip of my beer. “I finally have the opportunity to shadow Keith Yang, I can’t let that opportunity go to waste.” Keith Yang is not only my idol, he’s one of the best criminal defense lawyers in our state. He’s known to do pro bono cases all the time. I want to help people who’ve been wrongfully convicted of crimes and working with him is my first step in doing so. I hope to work at his firm when I complete law school. This is my chance at an in with him.

  “Chug! Chug! Chug!” is chanted from across the bar. A group of frat guys cheer on one of their brothers as he chugs Lenny’s famous pitcher—a concoction pertaining all the different beers that Lenny’s serves. Everyone in our group has done the challenge at least once. Foam spills out from the sides of the guy’s mouth as he chugs, but after a while he sucks it all down.

  Selma’s hand lands on mine, which is still in her lap. “We wouldn’t want you to miss this opportunity Mav. We’ll have plenty of other tournaments you can come to. I’m just sad you’ll be spending Thanksgiving alone.”

  “I can check with Aspen to see what his plans are,” I offer.

  Lily makes a gagging noise from across the table. “Probably drowning in any chick he can get his grubby little hands on.” She rolls her eyes and chugs the rest of her beer. It makes a clanking noise when she drops it back on the table. “Another!” she shouts, looking at Lenny at the bar, and asking for a fresh one like she’s in Game of Thrones. “Seriously, Maverick, how are you even friends with that douche canoe?” Lily asks, peeling the wrapper off her beer bottle.

  Screams erupt from another part of the bar, but this time none of us even glance that way. It’s a typical noise here. We’re so lost in our conversation that none of us even notice when Aspen walks up to us.

  “Aww, Lily Bear, why do you have to be so sweet?” he asks, sliding in next to Lily and pulling her close to him. He pats the top of her head like he would a little sister, and through her grumbles, she shoves him.

  “Gross, Aspen! Get your nasty hands off of me! Who knows where they have been recently.” She fiercely rubs where he just touched her, being as overdramatic as usual when it comes to him.

  Lenny comes to our table and sets a new beer down at the edge of our table. Before Lily has a chance to take it, Aspen picks it up and chugs it in two seconds flat. Lily’s look rivals the same one Veronica had when she was staring down that piece of paper.

  If looks could kill, my best friend would very much be dead.

  “Oh, stop being so dramatic, Lil,” Aspen says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and setting it back on the drawn-all-over table. He makes eye contact with Lenny at the bar and holds up three fingers, putting his hand down when Lenny nods back at him. “Plus, I’m as clean as a whistle, baby.” He grins at her and she rolls her eyes, scooting away from him in the booth.

  I wonder if my sister realizes it’s blatantly clear to both Selma and I that there’s something more than hate between her and Aspen. There has been for the almost-four years we’ve been at college—but I’m certainly not going to be the first one to bring it up to either one of them. I just mind my own business in that regard.

  “Did you tell your sister about my soulmate?” Aspen asks, looking over at Lily and waiting for her reaction.

  I can tell he’s trying to rile her up and get another reaction, which is exactly what he gets.

  “Soulmate?” Lily sputters, wringing her hands together on top of the table.

  “Yes, my soulmate is moving in with me. Things are getting serious,” Aspen replies.

  Lenny walks over and deposits three beers in front of Aspen, who hands one to me and the other to Lily. She begrudgingly takes it from him.

  I finish off the last bit of my first beer before pushing it out of the way and setting the new one directly in front of me.

  Selma must do something to Aspen underneath the table, because he jumps, giving her a scowl.

  “He’s lying,” Selma starts, looking at Lily’s pouting face earnestly. “Maverick found someone to pick up Kira’s portion of the rent and move in with us. Aspen—for some reason—is under the impression that he and this girl, Veronica, are star-crossed lovers, but once you meet her you will very clearly see that she’s not interested in him.”

  Aspen’s hand flies to his chest in a mocking display. “You wound me, sweet Selma. Every woman is impressed by me.”

  “Not this one,” Lily mutters under her breath, taking a long drink of her beer.

  “Especially you, Lily Bear,” Aspen says, tapping her on the nose with the tip of his finger.

  Lily’s eyes widen, and I can see her turning a new shade of pink.

  These two, I swear.

  My mind travels to Veronica for a split second, wondering where she is tonight. I hadn’t thought to invite her out with us tonight, and now I’m wondering if I should have.

  “Tell me about this Veronica,” Lily says, dragging out her name with disdain.

  I can’t help but chuckle, which earns me a very dirty look from my twin sister.

  A girl walks up to Aspen and tries to put her hand on him, but surprisingly, he waves her off and stays engaged in our conversation. Dismissed, the girl retreats to her large group of friends. They seem to console her, then send her in another man’s direction twenty seconds later.

  “Do you have anything to add, brother?” Lily asks, sitting back in the booth and crossing her arms over her chest.

  There’s a large rip in the red vinyl next to her, and I focus on that for a moment. I shake my head, wondering how it’ll g
o between Veronica and Lily. I know there’s a possibility the two of them could be friends—if that’s something Veronica even has. All I know for certain is that Veronica wants nothing to do with Aspen, and therefore, there’s nothing Lily needs to be jealous of when it comes to her.

  Selma still sits quietly to the left of me, taking in the conversation. I lift my hand from her thigh and put my arm around her. I pull her in closer next to me, kissing her on the top of her curly hair.

  “I’ll tell you about her,” Aspen says, looking over at Lily. “She reminds me of an ice queen. Her hair is so blonde, and it takes up half her body. She’s filled with venom and ice. She even did this to me.” He lifts the sleeve of his sweatshirt to show a forming bruise.

  Dang, she actually did get him good.

  “Keep going,” Lily instructs, leaning in closer to Aspen, holding on to every word.

  “I think she might hate me, but that’s okay, I’ll defrost her,” Aspen says.

  I can see where Aspen gets the ice queen reference for Veronica. At first glance she is all stone and ice, seemingly content in keeping everyone away from her. I wonder if she’s always been so cold to people, or if something made her like this. Either way, it’s not my concern, as long as she pays her rent.

  “Maybe take the hint,” Lily retorts, letting out a huff I can hear even in the loud bar.

  “Never,” Aspen responds. “I am going to figure the ice queen out.” There’s determination in his voice.

  “Good luck with that,” I scoff, stretching my legs out underneath the table.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Aspen asks.

  "It means that girl has walls built so high it’ll be impossible to climb them. Even for someone as persistent as you,” I tell him.

  “You say that like it’s bad to build walls,” my best friend responds, sitting taller in the booth.

  Aspen would decide to become philosophical when it comes to her.

  I open my mouth to respond, but Aspen adds, “Look, we don’t know her story so before you go and write her off as some bitch, maybe consider there’s more to it. Maybe she’s just hard to get to know.”

  My mouth hangs agape as my best friend glares at me from across the table. I want to ask him if we’re talking about the same girl—because I have a distinct memory of her thwarting him with a shoe only hours ago. I keep my words in, however, because his catch me off guard. I hadn’t given much thought to why she acts the way she does—and I’m not going to start now.

  “Can’t wait to meet her,” Lily quips in a dull tone.

  I stifle the urge to tell my sister she’s not missing much.

  7

  Veronica

  “Jesus Christ, Veronica,” Aspen wheezes as he sets my last box of belongings next to my bed. “How the hell are you going to fit all that shit into this tiny room?” He looks around the room, where boxes are scattered all over, making it hard to walk anywhere.

  I shrug and say, “Simple. I’ll make it fit.” The box cutter makes a ripping noise as it cuts through the tape on the box I open. When I lift the two flaps, I find it’s my last box of shoes. One by one, I pull them out and walk them to the closet.

  Aspen’s right; it will be a tight squeeze, but I’ll make it work. Everything I brought with me is a necessity—at least to me.

  From the closet, I can hear Aspen’s cell phone ring. He answers, engaging in a quick conversation with the person on the other end before hanging up. As I continue to neatly line my shoes on the closet shelf, Aspen fills the doorway.

  “That was Selma,” he says. “Someone called out of work today and they’re short a waiter. I told her I’d come in, but I need to head out in ten minutes. You good in here?” His eyes catch on my sheer body suits hanging in the closet.

  I give him a light shove on the shoulder. “Don’t get any ideas, playboy. And I’ll be fine here. I don’t want anyone else unpacking my things anyway.”

  Aspen’s gaze roams over my face, before he nods and leaves me to the peace and quiet of my new room.

  Finally, I’m alone.

  Even though I hate to admit it, Aspen is kind of growing on me. I don’t want to send him any mixed signals on what he and I could be, though. He seems like a guy that could get attached very easily—and I don’t do attachments.

  Not anymore.

  Not ever again.

  I shake my head, trying to not let my mind wander in the direction it wants to go. It’s already a drag being stuck in my head twenty-four/seven. All I do is hate myself. If anyone were to look into my thoughts, they’d find way too much self-loathing for a twenty-one-year old to have.

  After the heels on my shelf are perfectly aligned, I step out of the closet and continue rifling through my things. The next box I open houses more clothes, which is great except I can’t remember where Aspen put the box with all my hangers.

  I look around my room, trying to find it. I zone in on the pile of boxes—almost as high as the ceiling—stacked against the wall by the window. A long sigh escapes me. Even though Aspen is easily six feet tall, my five foot seven is not near enough of a match to reach the boxes on the top.

  Just as I consider moving on to a different task, footsteps sound from the stairs. Both Selma and Aspen are at work for the next five hours, which tells me the person coming down the stairs has to be Maverick.

  He knocks on the trim of my door and says, “How’s it going in here?”

  Speak of the devil.

  I turn around and take in his appearance—a black hoodie with navy blue basketball shorts. His cheeks are tinted pink from the cold front we’re having in October here in Kansas. The dark strands of his hair fall over his forehead lazily and without effort.

  “It’s going fine,” I say, “except I need hangers and I’m pretty sure they’re in the box on top of this stupidly high pile Aspen created.” I point to the stack of boxes going up the wall.

  Since I stand directly in front of them, I’m sure Maverick can obviously pinpoint my dilemma. Even if I stand on my tiptoes with my arms outstretched, it would be nearly impossible to pull the box down without causing them all to tumble.

  “I swear he did it on purpose so I would ask him to come back and help me,” I grumble, twisting my hair from my ponytail around my finger. My bottom lip is caught between my teeth as I ponder what way I will torture Aspen for this later.

  Maverick laughs as he crosses the distance to my side of the room. His shoulder brushes mine as he lands next to me, looking up at the pile Aspen created. “Aspen definitely did this to be able to have an excuse to come back in here.” His long arms reach up and easily pull the box from the top. He sets it on the top of my bed before going back for the next one.

  With those two boxes down, I can easily reach the rest of the stack. “Thank you,” I mutter. I take the box cutter and open both boxes, pleased to see one of them in fact holds the hangers I need. Dropping the other box on the ground, I climb onto my bed and pour the hangers out, throwing the empty box in my discarded pile of other empty boxes.

  As I begin to hang all my clothes on the hangers and start a pile of them, Maverick grabs the box cutter and starts breaking down the boxes. We work in a comfortable silence—and it weirds me out. I’m not used to men who are this comfortable in silence. Usually, they try to fill it, and unfortunately, it’s normally with things they think I want to hear. But in the little time I’ve spent with Maverick, I’m starting to realize he isn’t like most men. He’s calmer, like he’s at peace with himself.

  He seems grounded. Maybe it’s due to the fact that he’s in a relationship that is obviously perfect. I’ve only been living with him and Selma for three days now, but in those three days I would have to be blind to see they weren’t perfect for each other. They seem like best friends that happen to also be dating. I often found myself watching them, interested in their dynamic. I’d never witnessed two people so perfectly in tune with each other. Selma often finishes Maverick’s sentences, and he’s able to
read her like a book, usually without her uttering a single word.

  I’m envious of her, but not in the way people would expect. Anyone could look at her and know she’s a bright light. That she’s good for him. I’m the opposite. Any man I decide to love is destined to drown with me in darkness. I’ll never be the kind of girl who can pull a man from darkness. I’m the kind that pulls them into the depths with me, watching as they suffer.

  My love is poison, and I’ll never give it away again.

  “How did you and Selma meet?” I ask Maverick, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  His arm stops mid-cut through the box, his body tensing for a brief moment before it relaxes again. His blue gaze finds mine, and there is shock there. He probably sees the same shock in mine. I’m not normally one to get personal with people.

  “Selma and I have been dating since high school. Our families have been very close for a very long time,” he states.

  The sound of tape being ripped fills the small room. His arms work quickly to break down the box and then he throws it out into the living area with the others he’s already completed.

  “We’ve known each other for basically as long as I can remember,” he continues. “Selma’s parents and my own have been planning our wedding since we first met when we were kids. We fought it for a long time, both perfectly content with being best friends. Then, things changed.”

  He shrugs and rolls the arm of his sleeve up, and I stop what I’m doing to watch him bend down to pick up another box. Except there are no more boxes to break down. His eyes stare at the boxes in the other room for a moment, his hands resting on his hips. A long breath escapes his lips.

  “Things just…changed?” I ask quietly, still staring at him. I’m so enthralled in their love story, I don’t even care if my question is invasive.

  A hand runs against the buzzed sides of his hair as he nods. “Yeah.” He pauses, his eyes wandering over the room. “Feelings got involved, among other things, and we’ve been together ever since.”