by Selena
Wasn’t Othal the exact person who would say to strike while the iron was hot, though, to take advantage of a lucky break? Othal took care of his family, was always friendly and smiling at church picnics when he visited. But he hadn’t gotten where he was by being a pushover.
Othal would have told me to go back under the tree and do whatever I had to do to get what I wanted. I knew from Brody’s reactions that he wasn’t going to chase me. I’d made it clear years ago that I wanted nothing to do with him, and he’d finally respected it. If I played hard to get now, he’d leave me alone. He thought that’s what I wanted, that nothing had changed. I had to give him something first, to plant a seed of hope in him. Throw him the worm and let him swallow the hook before I reeled him in… And ate him for dinner.
I looped the reigns back around a bar on the gate, gave Pegasus a few more strokes, and turned to the tree once more. I wished I could see Brody behind the curtain of leaves, wished I knew if he could see me psyching myself up for this. But all I could see was the strands of leaves draped from each magnificent tree, could hear only the rise and fall of insect songs like a shifting wall of sound. With one more deep breath of the warm twilight air, I approached the tree again.
When I parted the hanging curtain, Brody was sitting just where I’d left him, with his head leaned back against the tree trunk and his eyes closed. For a second, I stood watching him, fighting my guilt at what I was about to do. Of course he deserved this. The fact that his grandfather lay in a hospital bed didn’t excuse what Brody had done. It didn’t make him less of a lying, cheating piece of shit. He’d done what he’d done, and he should pay for that, whatever state his family was in.
But he was so beautiful. God, he was beautiful.
I shook the thought away and approached, trying to hide the hard determination in my eyes. I didn’t want to look like the wolf going in for the kill. I wanted to look like the sweet little lamb, harmless and innocent and dumb, just the way Brody had always seen me.
“Hey,” I said softly, sinking down beside him.
“I thought you left,” he said, but he showed no sign of surprise. He didn’t even open his eyes.
“I just… I’m really sorry, Brody. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“That’s big of you.”
“I know we ended on bad terms,” I said. “But we’ve been friends our whole lives. You can’t think that all just goes away.”
Now he opened his eyes, turning to me with a bitter smirk. “You’re saying you want us to be friends?”
“I never said I didn’t want that. I can’t hate you, Brody. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“So now you care about me?” he asked. “After avoiding me for the past three years, suddenly you want to be friends? What do you really want, Laney?”
I took a moment to compose myself. No, I wasn’t the same girl Brody had cheated on and dumped. But he wasn’t the same guy I had loved, either. As much as I’d changed in the past three years, he must have changed, too. I wasn’t ready to excuse his behavior the way my mother had, but fame had to do funny things to a person’s head.
“I don’t want anything,” I said. “I’m not one of those gold-digging girls you date.”
His shoulders stiffened. “What do you know about it?”
I rolled my eyes. “Believe me, more than I want to. It’s not like I could just forget you, the way normal girls do. I can’t pretend you don’t exist. You’re on the TV, you’re on the radio, you’re at the grocery store, the drugstore, everywhere I go. There’s your face on the front of some magazine, with some other girl. Do you think that’s been easy for me?”
“It’s not real,” he said. “None of it’s real, Laney. I haven’t been with anyone else.”
I bit back a cutting retort at his choice of words. I’d bet my very life that he’d been with plenty of girls, probably hundreds of them. In the very first month after the breakup, when I’d kept up with him partly out of habit and partly to torture myself, paparazzi had caught him ‘canoodling’ with a B-list movie star at a premier, ‘cozying up’ to one of Taylor Swift’s squad in the VIP section at a club, and partying with the up-and-coming pop singer who had been opening for Just 5 Guys. The pain of it had been addictive, almost pleasurable, like worrying a sore tooth with your tongue.
That was when Piper had staged an intervention, and I had forced myself to turn off Your Celebrity Eyes and step away from the gossip magazines for a while. Just until I’d picked up the pieces of my shattered heart and cultivated the appropriate image. Suffering in silence, carrying on bravely and with ladylike composure like I was a fucking Kennedy or something.
“It was pretty convincing from the outside,” I said after a short silence. Beyond the tent-like shelter of the tree, Pegasus snorted and stamped a foot, no doubt irritated by a horsefly.
“I’ll tell that to my team,” Brody said. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to hear it.”
“I saw an interview on one of the late-night shows.”
“Yeah?” Instead of pushing me, he waited for me to speak. It was something he’d always done that I hadn’t appreciated until I met Paul.
Paul was quick, impatient with those who weren’t, and always asking what, what, what? If I needed time to think of an answer, he said I wasn’t being honest. He wanted my gut response to everything, even the most thought-provoking questions. He’d wait three seconds, and then repeat the question, or say Well? What do you think?
When he’d proposed, he’d done the same thing. It’s a yes or no question, Laney. So what’s it going to be?
When Brody didn’t press me, I went on. “You were talking about the popstar you were dating, I can’t remember which one, but you were saying she really understood the pressures you faced because she had the same ones. And that made for a great relationship. Was it Selena Gomez? Amy Bedgood?”
He scooted up a bit, shook out his legs and adjusted his slacks. Even though he was sitting in the dirt, he hadn’t changed into old jeans or sweats. He was still wearing what he must have worn to the hospital—designer slacks, an Izod polo. He looked good, too, with his shoulders filling out the polo shirt in a way I didn’t remember them doing in high school. I had an absurd urge to reach out and squeeze his deltoids. Even brushing his knee earlier had ignited a spark inside me.
“You have to say that shit,” he said. “They give my guys the interview questions ahead of time, and then my guys give me the answers. None of that’s real.”
“You can’t even answer your own interview questions?”
He shrugged. “No. You’re a pawn. Maybe some people, but Nash was meticulous about image. I don’t think he even sleeps. He’s like a telepathic vampire. I swear, if we were even out at the wrong place in the middle of the night, he’d be calling like, What the fuck are you doing there? Get out of there. You don’t go to places like that.”
I didn’t ask what places. I could guess well enough. Still, as much as I hated to admit that I cared, a seed of pride swelled inside me when he said no one else had taken my place. Sure, he was famous, and he could fuck whoever he wanted. But he’d never loved another girl. Maybe never even dated one—not in a real way. And even if he had, I knew without having to be told that he’d never felt about anyone else the way he felt about me. He never would. I was his first love, and more than that, the only girl who would ever date him for himself, not for “Brody Villines, Boyband Popstar.”
Even if one day someone loved him for who he was, she could never separate the Brody Villines of Just 5 Guys from the one he’d been before the cameras, the fame, the fake shit that he’d only begun to explain before we broke up.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you never found anyone better,” I said lightly.
“Better than you?” he asked with a little laugh. “Nah, Laney. That’s not possible. There was never anyone even close.”
“Good.”
Our eyes locked, waiting for what came next. Waiting for the other to spea
k, to move. I could see the hunger in his eyes as they moved over my face, lingering on my lips. My lips, which he’d always said were irresistible. Remembering that, I let my lips part just the slightest. As if on cue, he leaned forward.
Hooked, I thought triumphantly, trying to drown the wave of heat that bloomed over my body at the thought of his kiss. His hand tangled in my hair as he drew me forward until our noses were beside each other, our lips just a breath apart.
“What are you doing to me, Laney?” he whispered, his hand tightening in my hair. “Are you fucking with me?”
Suddenly, I didn’t know what I was doing. Inside my chest, my heart was pounding louder than a drum, drowning out the evening song around us. I couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe. I was caught. It had all slipped through my fingers in seconds. I’d been in control. Everything had been going according to plan. How had this happened?
“Let me go,” I said, trying to pull away but only succeeding in pulling my own hair.
“Let me go,” he growled back.
“I can’t,” I whispered, my voice catching. It was true. All this time, I’d never answered his phone calls. I’d avoided coming home when he was home. If I saw him, if I gave him the closure he deserved, I’d have to admit it was over and let him move on. And I couldn’t do that. If I could have, I wouldn’t be here now.
His lips grazed mine, his breath hot on my mouth. Without stopping to consult my brain, my mouth responded hungrily, pressing against his. “Then let me have you,” he whispered against my lips. Then his mouth met mine again, his tongue tickling my lower lip before his teeth bit down lightly, stopping just before the point of pain. A gasp escaped me, and I pressed forward, melting into him instead of running away as I should.
That spark that the barest touch had ignited was now glowing, rekindled so many years after I thought it had died. The heat inside me pulsed brighter as his tongue slid over my lip, pressing into me, pressing my lips open and entering my mouth.
My hands spread out across his chest, exploring muscles that were new to me. I could feel the pebbles of his nipples hardening through his shirt and an erotic charge shot through me, trembling in my lower belly. The heat inside me grew, almost painful in its intensity, the way a baby must feel upon seeing light the first time. I felt like that, brand new, burned clean.
Still gripping my hair with one hand, he raised his other hand to cradle my cheek, caressing my skin while his tongue explored me, teased me, until I couldn’t help letting out a moan into his kiss.
I felt his body shudder in response, and he slid forward, wrapping me in his arms and lowering me onto the grass. Somewhere inside, a faraway voice was warning me to stop, that I needed to stop right this instant. But I couldn’t. I clung to Brody, afraid he’d pull away at any moment, leave me to die of starvation for his touch. My insides were blooming with emotion, but all my body wanted was to revel in every stroke of his fingers over my skin.
He lowered himself with me, never breaking the kiss. Cradling my head, he deepened it, his tongue moving over mine, stroking it faster as our breathing mingled, coming faster now. I slid my hands down his body, over those broad shoulders, his shoulder blades, down the ridges of muscle on both sides of his spine. I couldn’t get enough. Seconds later, my hands were under his shirt, against his warm, smooth skin. I sighed with pleasure at the sensation, so long forgotten, of touching a man’s body. Heat bloomed between my thighs as my fingers explored his muscled body, his velvet skin.
He groaned into my mouth and nudged my legs apart with his knee, settling his body between my thighs. I gasped against his lips at the delicious pressure. He crushed my hips with his own until the seam of my shorts bit into my flesh. I arched up against him, craving more, even if it hurt. Hoping it hurt.
And then a thought billowed up from the depths of my mind, not a reasonable thought, because I was far beyond reason, but a memory. It bubbled up like a black cloud, filled with pain and betrayal. The memory of the last time we’d lain here, frantically devouring each other. The last time we’d been together, when I’d known something was wrong, even before the pictures came out, the pictures taken on the night when I’d called and called, torn apart with worry that he’d missed our video chat once again. The pictures of my drunk boyfriend and his friends hanging out, with girls all over their laps, their hands in places they had no business being.
Afterwards, I’d looked back on that moment under the tree and cried until I couldn’t breathe, knowing it had already been over, even before I knew, before I had to say it. That last time, things had been different. He had been different.
Now I pushed him away, gasping for breath. In the darkness, I could feel his breath on my face, but I could barely make out his features, those strong bones and soft hair falling over his forehead, tickling my face. Tears threatened to burst forth from my eyes. I was out of control, everything spinning away from my grasp. How could I have been so stupid? How could I be lying under that same boy who had crushed my heart so thoroughly I’d never trust a man again?
“What about Paul?” Brody asked, his silky voice rough for once.
Sure, now he was concerned about cheating. Now he was worried about faithfulness, when it wasn’t his to worry about. With a frustrated cry, I shoved him away, lifting my hips and rolling over, jumping to my feet before he could catch me.
“Nice of you to worry about my fidelity but not your own,” I snapped before whirling around and storming out from the canopy of the tree. Outside, it wasn’t quite so dark. Pegasus huffed his breath into the blue twilight, shifting toward me.
“Laney,” Brody called after me, emerging from the tree. “That’s not what I meant. But I’m not going to take what’s not mine to take.”
“Then it’s your loss,” I said, thrusting my foot into the stirrup after untying my horse from the fence. I swung up onto Pegasus and turned him down the trail toward home.
“Stop and talk to me,” Brody said, stepping onto the trail in front of me.
“Fuck you, Brody,” I said, shaking my hair back and nudging the horse forward. “I’m not Paul’s to give. You should have taken what I offered.”
“Laney,” he said sharply, letting Pegasus step around him. “Can we talk reasonably? I’m not going to chase after you.”
By now, he was calling after me as I urged Pegasus forward. “There’s nothing to talk about,” I called back over my shoulder. “Moment of weakness. Won’t happen again!” I didn’t know if he heard all that I’d said, because he really wasn’t chasing after me, though he called my name one more time. That was fine. Let him call. Let him beg. Let him get so worked up that next time he would chase after me.
When I was halfway home, rounding the gazebo, I slowed Pegasus to a walk. I needed to clear my mind. That had all happened so fast, too fast. One moment I’d been set on my goal, everything going according to plan. The next, I’d been lying on the ground, ready to be the one begging for him. Just the thought of that hoarseness in his silky voice made me wet. I remembered that edge of desire well, the only thing that roughened the coveted silky strains of Brody Villines’s voice.
That hoarseness meant one thing only, and I could not let that one thing happen. I’d kept Paul at bay for three years, and it had worked marvelously. Now I had a ring on my finger. If I refused Brody, gave him blue balls for a little while, maybe I could get him to trail around after me like a dog, the way Paul did. But I had to be careful with that, had to play him just right. Like Blair said, he had options. He might take his blue balls to some other girl for emptying.
Or I might give in. I squirmed in the saddle at the tangible memory of his body on top of mine, burning me up like a match to gasoline. I shivered, a delicious, giddy shiver. I hadn’t accounted for that hazard.
I tamped down the thought fiercely, the sensations coursing through my body, burning through my veins. I was stronger than that, could control myself. I wasn’t some dumb animal who couldn’t control my libido. That’s what Brody was. N
ot me.
Laney Tucker was poised, polished, and in control. I would never be the kind of person Brody was, too consumed by lust to control myself. I would never give in.
twelve
Brody
It had been two weeks since I had heard from Nash, and I’d started to relax about my future. Now that I’d been away from it, I realized exactly how exhausted I’d become over the past five years. Maybe Nash was right—he usually was—and I could use the whole summer off. Surely the world wouldn’t forget me in three months. My shrink assured me as much, and even my agent had only given me two interviews, both over video chat.
And then there was Laney. Just thinking about that kiss made my head spin and my cock twitch. But it was too good to be true. I couldn’t believe that Laney would want me back after what I’d done to her. The thing was, Laney wasn’t the kind of girl who played games. She was smart as hell, not simpleminded, but the kind who liked things simple. Straightforward. So what had the kiss been about? Nostalgia?
A moment of weakness, she’d called it. Which meant that only by her own determination was she keeping herself from me. Pride and hurt might make her standoffish, but she still felt something for me. I was sure of it.
If I was a good guy, I would have walked away. I would have accepted that she was engaged to someone else, that she was going to marry that bastard and live happily ever after. If I was a good guy, I’d admit that maybe I hadn’t changed so much in the three years since I’d broken her heart, and it was possible that I could break her heart again. Not in the same way—I had learned from my mistakes—but in some other way. If I was a good guy, her moment of weakness wouldn’t give me hope. But I wasn’t a good guy.
Amy Bedgood had told me that, right after she threw a bottle of Grey Goose at my head in a London hotel room. Laney was right about that interview. It had been Amy I was talking about. I might have even halfway meant it. We’d hung out a while, my blazing stardom supposed to dazzle the world into forgetting her stint in rehab. I still remembered Nash shoving her number at me. “Take her out a few times, but for fuck sake not to a club. She’ll be passed out on the dancefloor in five minutes.”