Maybe Not

by Colleen Hoover

I look up, just as an empty cup falls from the edge of the headboard and hits me square between the eyes.

  I close my eyes, ashamed that I didn't see that coming. I'm so disappointed in myself. And now I'll have to sleep on towels, because my mattress is soaking wet.

  I throw the covers off and swing my legs over the bed, only for my feet to be met with even more cups of water. I knock several of them over in my attempt to stand and it creates a sort of domino effect. I bend over and try to stop them from falling over, but I just make it worse. She's placed them so close together, all over my bedroom floor, and I can't find a safe spot to step.

  I try to reach for the nightstand while at the same time lifting my right leg so that it doesn't hit any more cups, but I lose my balance in the process and . . . yes. I fall down. Onto the remaining pile of cups that are full of water. Water that is now all over my carpet.

  Touche, Bridgette.

  *

  I'm carrying the cups of water from my bedroom to the kitchen, back and forth, back and forth. Ridge is sitting at the table, staring at me. I know he wants to ask why the cups are now in my room, but he better not. I'm sure he can see by the look on my face that I don't need his, "I told you so."

  The door to Bridgette's bedroom opens and she walks out with her backpack slung over her shoulder. I pause and stare at her for a few seconds. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. She has on a pair of jeans and a blue tank top. She's usually wearing her Hooters uniform, which, don't get me wrong, is fantastic. But this? Seeing her dressed down with her flip-flops on and no makeup is just . . . Stop looking at her.

  "Good morning, Warren," she says, shooting daggers in my direction. She glances at the cups in my hands. "Sleep well?"

  I smile at her with vengeance. "Screw you, Bridgette."

  She crinkles up her nose and gives her head a quick shake. "No thanks," she says, heading toward the front door. "Oh, by the way. We're out of toilet paper. Also, I couldn't find my razor, so I hope you don't mind that I used yours." She opens the front door and turns to face me. "And . . ." She scrunches up her nose again. "I accidentally knocked your toothbrush into the toilet. Sorry. I rinsed it off for you, though."

  She closes the door right when one of the cups of water flies out of my hand and meets the back of the door.

  She's such a bitch.

  Ridge calmly walks past me, straight to his bedroom. He doesn't even look at me, because he knows me better than anyone, and therefore, he knows not to speak to me right now.

  I wish Brennan knew me that well, because he's laughing, making his way into the kitchen. Every time he glances up at me, he laughs even harder. "I know she's mean, but Christ, Warren. She hates you." He's still laughing as he opens the dishwasher to unload it. "I mean really hates you."

  I finish the trek across the living room and set the empty cups next to the sink. "I can't do this anymore," I say to him. "I can't live with a girl."

  Brennan glances at me, amused. He doesn't think I'm serious.

  "Tonight. I want her out tonight. She can move in with a friend, or with that sister of hers she's always on the phone with. I want her gone, Brennan."

  He can see that I'm not kidding. He straightens up and presses his hands onto the counter behind him, eyeing me. He shakes his head. "She's not leaving."

  He reaches down and closes the dishwasher and presses the button to start it. He begins to walk away so I follow after him. "You can't have final say in who lives here. I've tried for two weeks to get along with her, and she's fucking impossible."

  Brennan glances at all the cups lining the countertop. "You think pranking her is making an effort to get along with her?" He looks back at me. "You have a hell of a lot to learn about women, Warren." He turns away from me and walks back toward his room. "She's not leaving. She's our roommate now so deal with it."

  He slams his door, and it pisses me off even more because I'm really tired of everyone slamming doors lately. I stomp across the living room and swing his door open. "Either she goes or I go!"

  As soon as I say it, I regret it. Actually, I don't. I'm not going anywhere, but maybe the threat will change his mind. He shrugs.

  "See ya," he says casually.

  I turn around and punch the door. "Seriously, Brennan? You would let me leave over her?"

  He stands and walks toward me, not stopping until we're eye to eye. "Yes, Warren. I would. So go think it over and let me know when you're moving out." His hand grips the door and he tries to close it in my face, but I slap my palm against it and push it back open.

  "You're fucking her," I say.

  "Stop it, already! I'm not fucking her."

  My jaw is clenched tightly and I'm nodding my head slowly. That's the only explanation for why he's endlessly defending her. "I don't know why you won't just admit it, Brennan. It's fine. You're in love with Bridgette and you don't want her to move out. If you would just admit it, I'd stop."

  Brennan's jaw tenses and he expels a quick, frustrated breath. He runs his hands through his hair and that's when I see it. I see it written all over his face.

  Brennan is in love with Bridgette.

  I don't know how I feel about that, which makes no sense, since I'm trying to kick her out.

  "Warren," he says calmly. He backs into the room and motions for me to step inside. I don't know why he thinks he needs privacy when the only other person in this apartment is Ridge. He closes the door behind me once I'm inside his bedroom. He puts his hands on his hips and stares at the floor for several seconds. When his eyes finally meet mine again, they're full of defeat.

  I knew it.

  "I'm not in love with Bridgette," he says calmly. "She's my sister."

  Chapter Three

  I'm pacing the room, holding my forehead, pausing every few feet to look at Brennan and shake my head, only to continue pacing again.

  I liked it better when I thought he was fucking her.

  "How?" I ask. "How is that even possible?" I pause again and face him. "And why didn't you guys tell me before now?" I feel slightly excluded, like Ridge and Brennan were trying to keep some big family secret from me. That isn't right, because I'm their family. They lived with me after they left home. My parents took them in and gave them a roof over their heads and food on the table.

  "Ridge doesn't know," Brennan says. "And I don't want him to know until we find out for sure. We'll have a paternity test done soon, but our schedules just haven't worked out yet and it's kind of expensive."

  Great. I can't keep secrets from Ridge. We've been best friends since we were ten. I've never kept a secret from him, especially one this big.

  "Warren, swear to me you won't tell him. The last thing he needs right now is more stress, and if he finds out I've been in touch with our father, he'll take it personally."

  My hands fly up in the air. "Your father, Brennan? Why in the hell would you ever want to contact that bastard again?"

  He shakes his head. "I didn't. After Bridgette found out that her biological mother had an affair with our father, she found me and asked me to help her find him." He folds his arms over his chest and looks down at the floor. "I warned her, but she had to see it for herself. I won't be seeing my father again, but if Ridge knows I even took her to see him, he would think I was going behind his back to reach out to our parents, and I wasn't."

  "What did your father say when you showed up after all these years?"

  Ridge and Brennan moved in with me and my parents when they were only seventeen and fourteen, so it's been about seven years since either of them has had contact with their father.

  Brennan shakes his head. "He hasn't changed. He barely said two sentences to us before he sent us on our way. I think it disappointed her so much, she'd be fine not having a paternity test completed if it weren't for Ridge and me possibly being her brothers. I think she just wants someone she can call family, which is why I'm helping her out with all this. I feel bad for her."

  I can't believe this. I never would have g
uessed it. "She doesn't even look like either of you." Brennan and Ridge look almost identical, and they both look just like their father. If their father is the common link between them and Bridgette, you would think she'd have some form of similarity to them. Other than her brown hair, there's nothing about her that looks like Ridge or Brennan. Her green eyes aren't even close to their dark brown eyes, so if she is their sister, she must have taken a hundred percent after her mother. I could just be justifying the fact that I don't want them to look alike. That would be a little strange for me.

  Brennan shrugs. "We still don't know for sure, Warren. If it turns out she's not his daughter, then Ridge will never even have to know about this."

  I nod, knowing full well that Brennan is right. Ridge has enough on his plate having to deal with Maggie's issues, and until they know for sure, this isn't something he should have to stress over.

  "What happens to Bridgette?" I ask him. "If it turns out she's not your sister."

  Brennan shrugs. "Then I guess she's just our new roommate."

  I sit down on the bed and try to soak everything in. This changes everything. If she's Ridge and Brennan's sister, she won't just be my roommate. She and her attitude and her tiny little Hooters shorts will be part of our lives forever.

  I don't really know how I feel about that.

  "Are you sure she's not just trying to swindle you?"

  Brennan rolls his eyes. "That girl is just trying to survive, Warren. She's had a really fucked-up life and even if it turns out we're not related, she just needs someone to give her a chance. So please. You don't even have to be nice to her. Just be understanding enough to allow her to live here."

  I nod and fall back onto the bed. Sister?

  "So," I say to Brennan. "I guess that means you definitely aren't into her. Which means I can be."

  Brennan's pillow meets my face. "You're disgusting."

  Chapter Four

  Brennan was right. I'm disgusting. I've never felt more disappointed in myself than I have these past two weeks. Since the moment I found out she might be Ridge and Brennan's sister, I haven't been able to stop staring at her. I keep trying to pinpoint mannerisms they have in common, or physical features, but the only thing I've noticed is how hot she looks in that Hooters outfit.

  Which, in turn, makes me disgusted with myself, because thoughts of her in her uniform lead to some really strange dreams. Last night I dreamt I walked into the apartment and she was standing in the kitchen in those tiny orange shorts with her midriff showing. But when my eyes made it to her face, it wasn't her face I was looking at. It was Brennan's. He was smiling at me with a shit-eating grin, and right when I started gagging, Ridge walked out of his room wearing the same Hooters outfit.

  I woke up after that and had to immediately go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. I don't know why I thought brushing my teeth would help me, but whatever. This sibling thing is fucking with my head in more ways than it should. On the one hand, I think it would be cool if Ridge and Brennan had a sister. On the other hand, I don't want that sister to be Bridgette. Mainly because I'm skeptical of the reasons she's showing up out of the blue right when Brennan begins to make a name for himself. Does she have ulterior motives? Does she think he's made of money?

  Because as the band's manager, I can assure her, he's not. The money the band brings in goes right back into promotion and travel expenses. It's at the point where they're putting in so much time and effort, if it doesn't start paying off during this next scheduled tour, it may be the last one they go on. Which is why I'm a little bitter when it comes to Bridgette, because I need Brennan's focus to be on Sounds of Cedar and Ridge's focus to be on writing the songs. I don't want them caught up in family drama.

  But dammit. Those shorts.

  I'm standing in my bedroom doorway, watching her. She's in the kitchen, talking on the phone while she makes herself something to eat. The phone is sitting on the counter and she's on speaker with whomever is on the other line.

  Bridgette hasn't noticed I'm standing here, so until she does, I'm staying right here. Because seeing her have a normal, human conversation is something I've never witnessed before, and I can't stop watching. Which is strange, because how many times a day do I see people having typical interactions with other humans? It says a lot about Bridgette's personality that seeing her do something like this could actually be fascinating. She'd make an interesting anthropological study, considering she doesn't seem to conform to how society expects a young woman to act.

  "I can't take living in this dorm," the voice on speaker says. "My roommate's a fruit loop dingus."

  Bridgette tilts her head toward the direction of the phone, but still doesn't turn around to see me. "You can make it until you graduate."

  "And then we can get our own place?"

  My ears perk up, hearing her mention the possibility of moving out. "We can't afford our own place," Bridgette says.

  "We could if you would go back into doing porn films."

  "It was one porn," Bridgette says defensively. "We needed the money. Besides, I was in it for all of three minutes, so will you please stop bringing it up."

  Holy shit. Please say the name, please say the name. I have to know the name of this porn.

  "Okay, okay," the girl says, laughing. "I'll stop bringing it up if you can promise I'll be out of the dorms in three months."

  Bridgette shakes her head. "You know I don't make promises. And are you forgetting about the time we tried living together for three months? Because I'm still shocked either of us came out alive. We get along better with distance, and you're better off in the dorms, believe me."

  "Ugh. I know you're right," the girl says. "I just need to get off my ass and get a job. How's that Hooters gig working out for you?"

  Bridgette scoffs. "It's the worst job I've ever had." She turns around to pick up her phone and her eyes meet mine. I don't even try to hide the fact that I was listening to her conversation. She glares at me as she picks up the phone and holds it to her mouth. "I'll call you later, Brandi." She ends her call and slaps her phone against the counter. "What's your problem?"

  I shrug. "Nothing," I say, straightening up and walking toward the kitchen.

  Don't look at her shorts, don't look at her shorts.

  "I just didn't realize you were capable of normal human interaction."

  Bridgette rolls her eyes and picks up the plate of food she just finished preparing. She begins walking toward her bedroom. "I can be pleasant to people who deserve it."

  When she reaches her door, she turns around and faces me. "I need you to drop me off at work in an hour. My car's in the shop." She disappears into her bedroom.

  I grimace, because for some reason, the thought of taking her to work excites me, and my excitement disappoints me. I feel like I'm two different people right now. I'm a guy who finds his new roommate insanely attractive, but I'm also a guy who can't stand to be around his bitchy new roommate.

  I'm also a guy who's about to do some heavy research into the porn industry, because I have to find that movie. Have to. It's all I'm gonna be able to think about until I see it with my own eyes.

  *

  "What's Bridgette's last name?" I ask Brennan. I've texted him five times in the last half hour, trying to figure it out, but he hasn't texted me back, so now I'm on the phone with him. I'm sure a little Google search of her name could help me find the title.

  "Cox. Why?"

  I laugh. "Bridgette Cox? Seriously?"

  There's a pause on his end of the line. "What's so funny? And why do you need her last name?"

  "No reason," I say. "Thanks."

  I hang up the phone without giving him an explanation. The last thing Brennan needs to know is that his possible sister was in a porn film.

  But Cox? That's way too easy.

  I spend the next fifteen minutes googling her name, looking for anything porn-related. I come up empty-handed. She must have used a fake name.

  I slam my laptop
shut when my bedroom door swings open. "Let's go," she says.

  I stand up and slip on my shoes. "Ever heard of knocking?" I ask as I follow her through the living room.

  "Really, Warren? Coming from the guy who's walked in on me in the bathroom no less than three times in the past two weeks?"

  "Ever heard of locking doors?" I say in response.

  She doesn't reply as she makes her way outside. I grab my keys off the bar and follow her. I am curious as to why she never locks the doors when she's in the shower. My first thought leads me to believe that maybe she likes it when I walk in on her. Why else would she leave them unlocked?

  Come to think of it, she also wears that damn uniform way longer than she needs to. She puts it on a good two hours before going to work and she leaves it on just as long when she gets home. Most people spend as little time as possible in their work clothes, but Bridgette seems to like flaunting her ass in my face.

  I pause at the bottom of the stairs and watch as her ass makes its way toward my car.

  Holy shit. I think Bridgette is into me.

  She turns around after she tries to open the locked door. She looks at me expectantly and I'm still frozen at the bottom of the stairs, staring at her, my mouth agape.

  Bridgette likes me.

  "Unlock the car, Warren. Jesus."

  I lift the key fob and point it at the car to unlock the doors. Bridgette slides into her seat and flips the visor down, fingering at her hair. A smile slowly spreads across my face as I make my way to the driver's side.

  Bridgette wants me.

  This is gonna be fun.

  After I back the car out, I keep half of my focus on the road and half of it on her legs. She has one propped up on the dash and she keeps running her hand up and down her thigh. I can't tell if she's doing it in a seductive way or because she likes the sound of her fingernails scraping over her pantyhose.

  I have to adjust in my seat and swallow the lump in my throat, because we've never actually been this close before for this long. The tension is thick, and I can't tell if it's all mine or if it's a shared tension. I clear my throat and do what I can to not make this the most awkward ten miles I've ever had to drive.

  "So," I say, attempting to think of something to break the ice. "Do you like your job?"

  Bridgette laughs under her breath. "Yes, Warren. I love it. I love when disgusting old men grab my ass night after night, and I especially love it when drunk guys think my boobs are an accessory and not an extension of my body."