The Flawed Heart Series

by Wade, Ellie

  Rebound Dude holds me in his arms as we sway, I think, to music. Surely, we must be dancing.

  What is his name? Mike, Matt, or maybe…Gallagher?

  I can’t remember. It doesn’t matter. Rebound Dude, it is.

  We’ve already established that he’s going to take me back to his place and kiss me all night long. I was very up-front with my end game. Not surprisingly, he was all about it as well.

  Stupid guys. They’re so predictable and dumb…especially ones named Loïc. He’s the stupidest one of all.

  Loïc.

  I open my eyes. Rebound Dude—or as I’m calling him now, R.D.—is talking to me. I blink a few times and focus on what he’s saying.

  “You ready to go?”

  I have a feeling this isn’t the first time he’s asked.

  I lift my heavy arm, and my palm holds his cheek. His face is full of stubble, like he hasn’t shaved in a few days. I used to be extremely attracted to guys who had a five o’clock shadow like that.

  Loïc never lets his stubble get that long. He has to keep it shaved for the military. Loïc’s skin is soft beneath my touch. When I rub my hand in a certain direction though, I can always feel the tiny pokes of hair starting to grow. I miss that.

  I haven’t been able to run my hand across his smooth face in two weeks, and now, I never will again.

  R.D.’s eyes are striking, big and brown. They fit his face perfectly. Pre-Loïc, I would have found his eyes sexy as hell. But, now, I can only be attracted to blue eyes—and not just any blue eyes. I’m in love with the type of eyes that contain countless shades of blue and look like an ocean is swirling inside them with a gaze that pins me with the weight of a majestic body of water.

  Loïc might not want me, and he definitely isn’t the guy I thought he was, but I can’t deny the fact that I’m desperately in love with him. I have to figure out where to go from here before I do this. Being with another man when my entirety belongs to Loïc would break my heart, more than it’s already been broken. I don’t know how I’ll recover from that. I know I’ll have to get over Loïc, but this isn’t the way.

  I drop my hand from the handsome stranger’s face. “Listen, R.D., you’re a nice guy.” I sigh.

  “Arty? It’s Ben.” He sounds annoyed.

  Ben! That’s it!

  “Right…Ben.” I bob my head in acknowledgment. “Yeah,” I draw out. “I gotta go.” I point my thumb behind me. Then, I swivel and start to walk back to where Paige is.

  The lights in the club are on now. It must be past two. I squint. The glare from the bright fluorescents is giving me a headache. I trip a little on my obnoxiously tall heels. Maybe they weren’t the right shoes to wear when my night started by downing four shots, alone, in my kitchen. But nothing gives a girl confidence like her best fuck-me heels even if they are a bitch to walk in.

  A set of arms wrap around my waist, holding me steady. “You ready to go home, killer?” Paige asks.

  Aw, my Paige. How I love her.

  “Yepper. Sure am.” I nod.

  She chuckles. “First, let’s take these off.”

  She bends down and unhooks my shoe straps. I hold on to her shoulder as I step out of them. She hands them to me. Now that I don’t feel like I’m walking on stilts, I’m much better.

  “Let’s get a cab, Paigey,” I say weakly.

  “No,” she responds. “We’d have to wait forever for one, and I just want to get home. Plus, I think you could use a nice stroll with some fresh air.”

  “Yeah, fresh hair is nice, so soft,” I say dreamily.

  “Air, London…like the stuff you breathe.”

  “That’s what I meant,” I concur.

  Paige and I walk home in silence. Our inner hands grasp on to each other as my outer hand holds my shoes. I bet she’s dying to find out all the details about tonight, but she also knows that I need to focus on walking in my current state. She’s a good friend, the best.

  After eighty-five hours that fit into the space of probably fifteen minutes, we’re home. The first thing I notice is Paige repeatedly squeezing my hand.

  “Ow, Paige,” I say for lack of a better response because it didn’t hurt. It’s just weird.

  “Look,” she hisses under her breath.

  Look at what? What’s her deal?

  I lift my head that has been focused on my feet this entire time. On that journey, it took immense concentration to make sure I wouldn’t stub one of my toes against the concrete sidewalk and ruin my perfectly painted nails. The entire walk, I was one step away from a massacre of ripped skin and gushing blood.

  The interior of our house is dark, but the exterior is faintly lit up from the streetlights. I see a figure standing on our front porch. The world is starting to spin, but I would recognize that body anywhere.

  Why is he here?

  When we get to our front yard, Paige lets go of my hand.

  What is she doing?

  “I’ll be right inside, London.”

  Why is she leaving me alone with him? Traitor!

  I want to yell at her, but my head is too clouded to form thoughts quickly enough. When I’m finally ready to yell at her, she’s already inside.

  Instead, I’m left facing the man who broke my heart into a million pieces.

  “You weren’t answering your phone. I missed you,” he says simply, as if he didn’t destroy my entire world two hours ago.

  “I hate you.” I mean for it to come out as a loud, powerful declaration, but it leaves my lips on a broken whisper.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I should have come over earlier when you asked. I feel horrible about it. But I had to see you.”

  “I hate you.” This time, the words come out as a sob.

  “London, I’m sorry. It was a dick move. I didn’t have a headache. I’m sure you figured that out.” He sounds sad, but I can’t make myself care.

  “I need you to leave—right now.” These are the last words I say to him before a formidable explosion of vomit rips through me, causing me to bend at my waist and expel every last bit of vile liquid onto his feet.

  Loïc

  “I’ve fallen hard for London. Now that I’ve found her…I just hope I can keep her.”

  —Loïc Berkeley

  I spy with my little eye something fierce, stunning, beautiful, and mine.

  At least, I hope she’s still mine.

  She kept repeating, “I hate you,” over and over last night.

  I didn’t think she was such an angry drunk, but then I’d never seen her that out of it either.

  After I gave her a shower last night to get all of the vomit off of both of us, I put her in a pair of simple cotton panties that I found in her drawer. I’ve never seen her in a pair like this. If it isn’t silky, lacy, or a thong, she doesn’t wear it. I thought this pair looked the most comfortable to sleep in. I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge how incredibly sexy her ass looks in them right now.

  I gave her some medicine and was able to get her to drink a full glass of water before she passed out, so I’m hoping she doesn’t feel like complete shit when she gets up. And I know I’m a selfish prick, but I want her. My entire body craves her, and none of that will happen if she’s still puking.

  Part of me wanted to leave after she started throwing up. I know that’s horrible to admit, but for me, watching someone that drunk brings back all sorts of unwanted memories. I could never leave her in that state, no matter how hard it is to be around it. She isn’t them. I know that.

  I’m propped up on my side on one elbow, watching London sleep beside me. Her chest moves quietly beneath the baggy T-shirt I put on her. She kicked off the blanket in her sleep multiple times last night, so I finally stopped covering her up, figuring she must be hot.

  I shouldn’t be creeping on my girlfriend when she probably feels like crap and more than likely will puke on me the second she wakes. But I haven’t seen her in two weeks, and I’ve missed her like crazy—every single part of her, including
her gorgeous ass.

  Even if she feels fine, I’ll have some explaining to do. She’s never been so furious with me as she was last night. I knew she’d be mad, but I didn’t expect that. Shows what I know. I’m always going to suck at this dating shit.

  It was a jerk move. I realize that, but I’m the first to disclose that I’m not always going to handle things the right way—probably ever.

  London starts to move beside me. I can tell the moment she realizes that I’m here. A serene smile crosses her face, and her body instinctually moves into mine. She wraps her arms around my back and snuggles her face into my chest.

  God, I adore this woman.

  I never thought I’d be here, in a place where I feel so much love and happiness. Truly, I didn’t. I’ve fallen hard for London. Now that I’ve found her…I just hope I can keep her.

  I return her embrace, dropping my face into her hair, smelling her sweetness. I pull her tighter against me, and my hands roam across her back.

  Something shifts. London’s body goes rigid. The languid caresses from moments ago have ceased. If I’m not mistaken, she’s holding her breath, her back no longer rising and falling in contentment.

  “London?” I ask cautiously.

  Maybe she doesn’t feel well.

  Suddenly, she pushes away from me. Her eyes are dark with fury. “What are you doing here? Why are you in my bed?” She looks down to her bare legs before pulling the sheet over herself. “What am I wearing?”

  I decide to first respond to the question with the most straightforward answer. “After our shower, I put you in the most comfortable attire I could find.”

  “Our shower?” she shrieks. “You got me naked?”

  “We were covered in your vomit. I didn’t think you’d mind,” I answer dryly. “I’ve seen you naked before, London,” I say, stating the obvious.

  “But”—her voice is a high-pitched shrill—“you got me naked!”

  I realize that I’m missing something. London and I are most definitely not on the same page.

  “Are you still mad?” I ask.

  “Am I still mad?” she yells. “You must be joking!”

  “Listen, I said I was sorry. I knew it was wrong. You know I’m not good at this relationship stuff, London. You need to be a little more patient with me. Let me explain.”

  “I need to be more patient with you?” she screams.

  I have an incredible desire to tell her to keep her voice down. She’s giving me a headache. I might suck at relationships, but I have a feeling that wouldn’t be a wise move. I’ve never seen her so mad.

  She continues in her obnoxious tone, “So, I should just be patient with you while you stick your dick in some tramp? I should be understanding of that because you’re”—she holds her fingers up in air quotations—“‘not good at this relationship stuff.’” She ends the quote in a bitchy tone.

  “Hold on, wait a minute,” I stop her rant. “What are you talking about?” I ask, completely baffled.

  “I’m talking about you cheating on me,” she huffs. “What do you think I’m talking about?”

  “Cheating on you?” I question. “I thought we were talking about me not coming over here when I got back last night, for telling you that I had a headache when I didn’t.”

  “Well, that’s how it started, but then it ended with you fucking some whore.”

  I shake my head. “I…what?”

  London pulls the sheet up to her chest and crosses her arms. “Don’t act confused. Please show me a little respect, and stop lying. I deserve that much.”

  “I didn’t cheat on you, London.”

  “I saw you, Loïc! I saw you with her!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I knew you were lying about the headache. I thought there must be something wrong. I was worried about you. Around midnight, I decided to go over to your house to comfort you. And that’s when I saw you walking into the house…with her.”

  Walking into the house with a girl?

  I think back to yesterday, and that’s when it hits me. I can’t stop the laugh that erupts from my throat. Now, it all makes sense. “I didn’t cheat on you, London,” I say with a chuckle. “That was my roommate Maggie. You know, my best friend’s girlfriend? She’s like a sister to me.”

  “Do you always carry around friends’ girlfriends while groping their asses and letting them kiss your neck?”

  “She wasn’t kissing my neck, and I wasn’t groping her!”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” she snaps. “Your hand was splayed across her ass, and her lips were on your neck.”

  “If my hand was on her, it was simply to help me hold her, and she was just resting her head on my shoulder because she was too drunk to keep it up.”

  “Or walk?” London huffs out.

  “Yeah, or walk. Cooper and Maggie had a little too much fun a little too quickly at the bar and called me to go pick them up. I did, and I brought them back to our house. Then, I came over here and waited for over an hour for you to come back. That’s all.”

  “Why couldn’t Cooper carry her? I didn’t see him anywhere.”

  “He was just as drunk and probably stumbled into the house right before you drove by. London, nothing happened with Maggie. I don’t have any desire to do anything like that with her. She’s family.”

  “You were laughing.” Her voice is soft.

  “Probably. Maggie says some hilarious stuff when she’s wasted.” I shrug.

  “In your body language, I could tell that you were very comfortable with her.”

  “I am,” I agree. “I love her, London…like a sister,” I repeat slowly. “I would never cheat on you. Ever. That’s not who I am.”

  “So, you didn’t have sex with anyone last night?” she questions.

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “You didn’t kiss anyone last night?”

  “Unfortunately, no. The girl I wanted to kiss had vomit spewing from her mouth, and that’s a hard limit for me.”

  She starts to smile, and I can see the tension leaving her body.

  “You didn’t inappropriately grope anyone last night, especially on the ass region?”

  “Maggie? No, not at all. But, in full disclosure, I might have washed your ass slightly longer than it needed, but I just wanted to make sure it was good and clean. It was purely unselfish on my end…for the most part.” I smirk.

  “Oh my God,” London says before her shoulders sag. She wraps her arms around her bent knees, lets her face fall to her legs, and starts to cry with full-on shaking body sobs.

  I sit up and wrap my arm around her shoulder and hold her as she cries. Her tears go on for a long time, and I continue to hold her and kiss the top of her head. I feel horrible that she thought I cheated.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” she eventually chokes out.

  “You didn’t.”

  “I was a mess. I just…it was horrible, feeling that way.”

  “I’m so sorry that you had to go through that.”

  “I almost kissed another guy to get back at you,” she cries.

  Wait, what?

  My entire body stiffens. I have to focus on my breathing because I feel like I’m going to lose all control.

  “I mean, I didn’t,” she continues. “But I wanted to. I wanted to hurt you. I went to the bar with every intention of making out with someone else. I thought I’d lost you.”

  “What happened with this other guy?” I say slowly, my words measured.

  “Oh, nothing. I couldn’t. Even shitfaced and brokenhearted, I just wanted you. I didn’t kiss him. I think we danced. Or I might have just been standing there, and the room was moving. I can’t be certain.” She sniffs and wipes her eyes on the sheet.

  I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wooden headboard. She was hurt and confused. I can’t be mad, but, God, I’m so furious. She almost kissed some other guy, which would have most likely led to more. Okay, almost is a stretch, but she t
hought about it…and that’s bad enough.

  I’m trying to compose my thoughts when she jumps up and runs to the bathroom.

  “I’ll be right back,” she says with extreme cheerfulness.

  I hear the buzz of her toothbrush.

  Despite my confused state, I can’t help but smile. She has a thing about morning breath. So, the fact that she’s in there, brushing, means that all is forgiven on her end, and she’s ready to make up. Normally, I would be all about it, but I’m having a hard time getting over the reality that she just admitted that she had gone out with the intention of hooking up with someone else less than an hour after I supposedly cheated on her. It doesn’t sit well with me or help my never-ending trust issues.

  I understand why she did it and what she must have been going through. Logically, I can rationalize her confession. But, deep down, where my dark issues lie, I’m having a hard time, an extremely difficult time, letting it go. I don’t want to fight with her. I definitely want intense, sweaty make-up sex, but I wish she had kept that confession to herself.

  She comes bouncing out of the bathroom without a care in the world. She’s so gorgeous. She jumps onto the bed and straddles me. “I can’t believe you put me in these granny panties. I only wear these when Aunt Flo comes to town. I’m a little embarrassed.”

  I want to tell her that I find them extremely sexy on her, but before I get a chance, her hands take my face between them, and she slides her lips across mine. She holds my face and bites my bottom lip before pulling it into her mouth.

  And with that, I’m completely ready for her. I’m ready to forget about the past twenty-four hours and fuck her so hard that neither of us will remember that we were fighting in the first place, let alone why.

  But I can’t.

  I pull my mouth from hers. “London?”

  “Yeah?” she says sweetly. Her lips burn a trail down my neck.

  Blood pumps through my body at rapid speeds, fueling me with nothing but want and pure desire.

  Focus.

  “London,” I breathe heavily. “I need to say something.”

  “Mmhmm…” she responds as her lips move down my chest.

  “London, take your lips off of me.”