Dating My Brother's Best Friend

by Kate Swain

  Carter shot me a worried look. “Are you okay?” he asked gently. More than anybody else, he understood how I misused alcohol to block my emotions.

  “Fine,” I said, reaching for the glass again. “I feel fine.” I leveled him with a stare.

  Carter and Matt frowned at each other, but I ignored them. They were my brothers, and if anybody was going to refrain from judgement, it had to be them.

  I finished a glass of wine and poured myself another. Carter was looking on worriedly. I didn’t care.

  “I’ll replace it,” I slurred.

  Matt shrugged. “You don’t have to,” he said carefully.

  “I do.”

  I ordered another bottle. The football game got louder. Some people from the car dealerships, who we knew because they owned a building close to our shop—came over, taking seats at our table. The table got louder. I tried to talk to Matt, but we had to shout, so I gave up.

  Somebody pressed a beer into my hands. I was going to protest, but everybody was laughing and joking and I would have felt strange not drinking. I sipped it. Somebody next to me laughed. I grinned back.

  There was music playing somewhere, and somebody giggled next to me. I focused my eyes, recognizing Addison. She worked at the dealership. She smiled at me. I nodded back.

  I heard chairs scrape the floor as some people left. Somebody else came to join us. I saw Carter’s eyes widen.

  “Adam!” he said. He looked alarmed. I tensed. “Hey. What’re you doing?”

  “Coming to join you,” Adam said, sounding puzzled. “Is that alright?”

  He sounded genuinely upset, and a week ago I might have felt bad, that we hadn’t invited him. But now, I just felt a dull rage.

  “Matt,” Carter said gently. “Maybe you and Mark could go?” He jerked his head sideways toward the dart board. I had always enjoyed darts and often challenged my brothers to matches. I would have played tonight except I was too tired and feeling a little drunk.

  “Mark,” Matthew said gently. “Wouldn’t you like to play darts with me?”

  “No,” I said. I was more than a little drunk. I could hear it in my voice. I knew that if I tried to stand, I would probably fall over. I felt awful.

  “Come on, then,” a female voice pressured me. “Why don’t I get you home?”

  “Addison?” I frowned at her. We had dated once. I had found her a bit unpleasant. She was the sort of girl who thought it was amusing when her friends were in trouble, or who told unkind jokes. Why was she helping me?

  “Mark, you should get home,” she said frankly. “You’re drunk.”

  I held her gaze. She seemed concerned. I nodded. I felt ashamed, and I also didn’t want my brothers to see me like this. I needed to get home. I pushed back my chair. She stood up.

  “I’ll help you get home,” she said firmly.

  “Yes,” I said. The room was reeling and I tried to find my footing. Damn it, I should never have drunk so much! I felt sick.

  I reached out towards the coatrack, wanting to wrap up before we went outside. As I put my coat on, I heard a harsh laugh.

  “Yeah, Mark. Go have some fun,” Adam said. He was grinning at me and Addison, like he thought he knew what was up.

  I stared at him. I was standing, swaying, with my hand on Addison’s shoulder. Not because I wanted my hand there, but because if I wasn’t clinging onto something, I’d have fallen down. I glared at him.

  “You shut up,” I slurred. I knew it sounded like nonsense. I was hopelessly drunk. All I wanted to do was sleep. But I didn’t like that tone, or what he was implying.

  “Come on,” Addison said firmly. “Let’s get you home.”

  I nodded and, leaning on her, we made our way out of the pub.

  “I can’t drive,” I murmured as I reached my car. “Not like this.” I looked down at the wheel. I could barely open the door, never mind actually doing the half-dozen things necessary for driving a car.

  Addison giggled. “I can drive,” she murmured. “Sit in the passenger seat.”

  I nodded feeling ashamed. I went around the car, letting her exchange places with me. She sat in the driver’s seat. I could smell her perfume and feel her closeness. My body responded to those things, but my mind didn’t want me to.

  “Come on,” Addison giggled. “Let’s go.”

  I nodded and let her drive me home. When we got there, we collapsed out of the car together. Addison wrapped her arm around my shoulders and I helped her up the steps into my apartment.

  “Can I stay here?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Sure you can,” I agreed. I was slurring and I felt awful. I could barely see where I was. I collapsed against her and our lips met. My body tensed. It felt wrong.

  “Mark…”

  “I’ll sleep on the couch,” I murmured. I marched into the bathroom, washed my face and teeth, and then, with the last of my strength, ignoring anything she might have been saying, I collapsed on the couch and went to sleep.

  The last thing I remembered was wondering if I had locked the front door.

  15

  Maddy

  I sat at the kitchen table feeling tired, picking at my breakfast. Last night, I had taken Becca up on her offer of dinner and I got home late. Spending time with her, just being silly and doing nothing in particular, made me feel a bit better as predicted.

  “And maybe it’ll help me forget all about him.”

  I sighed. I didn’t really think so, or want to, but being with Becca had let me forget about the fact that Mark had not contacted me since we were together in my studio. If I went out more often, maybe I would forget about how poorly he was treating me and maybe even him. I knew it was unlikely. I didn’t think I’d ever forget about Mark.

  “Maddy. Morning,” Adam greeted me as he came into the kitchen. He was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, ready for riding his bike. His hair was tousled and messy. I recalled that he’d mentioned a ride of some sort with guys from the motorcycle group today.

  “Morning, Adam,” I greeted. “I made toast if you want some. And there’s hot water.” I pointed my head at the teapot. I felt strangely indifferent to him. We had not talked about our fight the other day. I also held him partly responsible for me not approaching Mark yet. I watched him as he crossed the kitchen still yawning.

  “Thanks,” he nodded, helping himself to some toast. “How was dinner?”

  “With Becca? It was fun,” I smiled. “We watched movies and did each other’s toenails.” I wriggled my toes in my shoes. Becca had painted my nails a soft shade of pink.

  “That sounds fun,” he said, grinning wistfully. “I wish I’d done something that light-hearted.”

  “Oh?” I frowned. I knew he had gone out, but I hadn’t asked with whom. I guessed he’d gone out for a drink, and he looked tired enough for that to be correct.

  “Yeah. I met up with the guys. Whew. They drink a lot.” He rubbed his head.

  I had to smile. “Which guys?” I asked. “Sounds like it was a heck of a night.”

  “You know. The guys. The Brand’s Bike-shop mechanics. Carter, Mark, Matt…”

  I tensed. “How are they?” I asked, trying to make my voice sound casual. I wished I had known that was where he was going. Not that I would have gone along. I didn’t know what I’d do if I came face-to-face with Mark.

  “Oh, fine. I sometimes wonder why I hang out with them. I’m not exactly on the same level as guys like that. Whew!” he grinned, a self-deprecating gesture. “With friends like that, I don’t have a chance in hell!”

  “Why do you say that?” My voice was tight.

  “Oh, well… you know. Matt and Carter aren’t too bad, but Mark! He never stops!” He grinned in a way that suggested that Mark’s behavior was something he really admired.

  I felt nauseous. “What didn’t he stop?”

  “You know… drinking and working the room stuff. He is never with the same girl twice! I don’t know how he does it.”

  “Mark picked
up a girl.” I made it a statement. The room was out of focus. I was unable to think.

  “Yeah. You know how he is. A girl from the dealership down the street from the shop. She went home with him. Not that he was able to drive. He had a lot to drink” Adam shook his head while he nursed his coffee.

  “Excuse me,” I said, standing up shakily.

  “What is it?” Adam asked, frowning at me. “I hope you’re okay?” His smile had dropped and there was concern in his eyes.

  “I’m fine.” My voice was ice cold and my back straight. “I just need to go upstairs to my room for something.”

  “Sure,” he said, looking down at his breakfast. “I’m going out in about half an hour. If you need anything…” he paused. “If you need a doctor or whatever, I mean.”

  “I’ll call. Thanks,” I said, and walked stiffly out. I ran upstairs to my room, unable to feel or think. Wow, I hadn’t expected news like that. It came as a shock and a surprise. I couldn’t believe it.

  “No,” I whispered. “The asshole…”

  I really thought that Mark meant it, that our time together was something special for him. I couldn’t believe that Adam had been right. That Mark’s life was all about adding more conquests to his total.

  Mark hasn’t changed.

  I wanted to be sad, but the emotions were too deep. I had been stupid. I was angry. At him. At myself.

  “Damn it,” I swore. Little relief it gave me, but I swore again. “Shit. Damn.”

  I stood up. I wasn’t going to be sad. I was going to be angry. It felt nicer. I let my rage block out the pain.

  I decided that I didn’t want to stay in the house.

  I combed my hair and put on my make-up, then picked up my handbag and my keys. I marched down the hallway to the front door, noticing that Adam had already left. I wanted to start crying, now that I knew he wouldn’t be there to ask what was wrong.

  I marched through the door and down to where my truck was parked.

  “I shouldn’t care.”

  I slammed the door of the pick-up and drove out of the driveway, eyes blinking furiously. I went straight to the studio and keyed the code into the door, slamming it shut. Once I was in there, I rolled up in the corner, too angry to speak.

  I knew that, on the one hand, I ought to be pleased, or at least sympathetic for the girl. Mark hadn’t contacted me and I hadn’t contacted him, partly out of fear of what Adam would think, partly out of my belief that Mark was still the playboy sort. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d made a good impression on me.

  “And I’m not going to let him know he made me cry.”

  That would be way too much for an egotistical type like him. I was not going to feed his fragile need for validation.

  I was going to show him that he was the one losing out, not me.

  I went to the stereo that I’d brought with me and readied it for the first class I planned teach. I switched it on, blaring salsa music and filling the studio with sound.

  I looked around the space. I needed to sweep the place out and do a complete cleaning. I also needed to get the changing room ready. I wanted to plan some special event to announce my grand opening.

  It should be big.

  I hadn’t thought about it before, but I wanted to do a dance demonstration to make the first night of the studio being open something inspiring. What if I put on a performance? The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I could ask Becca to help me find a caterer, and we could have something like a gallery opening, only for dance.

  “And I can showcase what I can teach.”

  The more I thought about it, the better I felt. I decided to forget about Mark, and throw myself into creating the best opening event I could.

  “And,” I told myself, digging in my handbag to see if I could find a pen, “I will choreograph the best opening dance I can make.”

  Right now, it felt like I was trying to be positive and I believed if I focused on that and my dance studio dream, I could overcome my anger and desire to punish Mark for what he did. I swept the floors and dusted the ceiling, cleaned up the changing room, and made a plan for painting the place. I accomplished a lot in just a few hours. I switched the music from salsa to classical.

  My hair was loose and sweat-soaked. I was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt. I started to choreograph a dance.

  Pirouettes always helped me to work off stress. I whirled, feeling the wind untangle my hair. I stretched my arms, then drew them in, making the spin faster. I felt my heart beating faster and the endorphins kicking in as I danced, making me feel better.

  “Damn you,” I whispered to the air as I stretched and then launched myself into a series of turns. “Damn you, Mark.”

  I grinned savagely. I was going to forget about him. And I was going to have fun doing it.

  16

  Mark

  I rolled over on the couch. I could feel daylight the same way I could feel a drill at the dentist’s: dangerous, sore, poised where it can do most damage. I opened my eyes, wincing painfully.

  “Damn it,” I whispered.

  My head hurt. My mouth was dry. I felt awful. When I sat up, the room spun. I shut my eyes and sat still hoping that it would reduce the ache in my head or the sickening disorientation.

  “Oh, for…” I swore under my breath and got clumsily to my feet. I saw dirty footprints on the carpet and noticed that I had managed to take my boots off before lying down to sleep. Some things seem to just happen without thinking about them.

  I blinked and tried to focus. I was nauseous like I had never been before. I went to the bathroom and threw up. I felt a little better.

  I brushed my teeth, and noticed something. There was lipstick on the mirror.

  “What the...?”

  I touched it, getting the pink waxy stuff on my fingertip. I wiped it off. Then as I walked to the kitchen, I tripped in the doorway. I fell, feeling stupid.

  “Damn it, this has to stop,” I told myself. This was not the kind of thing I should be doing. I was way too old to be getting stupid drunk on Fridays. I looked at the time. It was almost eleven a.m.

  “I’m so glad I took the day off.”

  I was still lying on the floor, waiting until the room stopped moving, when I noticed something.

  There was underwear over there.

  I got up and retrieved it. Women’s underwear. My brain was moving slowly. They were white with lots of lace.

  I stared, confused. I had genuinely no idea where they came from. When paired with the lipstick in the bathroom, it seemed that a woman had been here. Had there been? And, who?

  I held my head, but no memories of last night came to me. I had some idea of what happened before nine o’clock—drinks at the bar. After that, I had no idea about anything, including how I got back here.

  “Damn.”

  I hadn’t blacked out this badly for years. I had been a fool. I went through to the kitchen, knowing that if I ate something, it would make me feel better. I couldn’t remember eating much yesterday. That was part of the problem, I am sure. I should also drink some water and shower. I chugged two full glasses of water and decided to wait until after the shower to eat.

  While I showered, I again tried to remember details from last night. I recalled talking to Matt and having something of an altercation with Carter. I didn’t remember what about. I remembered a few faces, a few moments here and there but not enough to get a picture of anything significant. I recalled drinking beer. Somebody had bought me a beer I didn’t want, but I drank it anyway because I wanted to forget. I remembered people joining us, some guys I barely knew.

  “What did I do?”

  I got out of the shower and dried myself, feeling worried about the unknown. What did I do? My head was clearing now, at least enough to allow me to take care of myself. I had a jar of aspirin in the first aid kit. I took two to start.

  I realized I needed to do so many things. At the top of the list was having a p
roper conversation with Carter.

  “If anyone can help me, he can.”

  Through all the drinking, all the memory loss, I could still remember Maddy. Drinking or this morning’s massive hangover hadn’t helped get her out of my head.

  I decided to make eggs and fried bread, which was a proper cure for a hangover. At least, it always worked for me. I was busy making the bread when the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  I tensed as I heard the voice on the other side of the phone. It was Adam. I cleared my throat. “What is it?”

  “Mark, I’m sorry,” Adam said. He sounded genuinely upset. “Listen. I’m getting back from a breakfast-run around one later today. Would you like to have lunch, or coffee? We should talk.”

  I frowned. “About what? Is everything ok?” I wondered absently if I had started a fight. He sounded repentant enough for that. But I didn’t have bruises or any other visible signs of a fight. So, probably no fight then.

  “I have been weird with you,” Adam said gently. “I want to say sorry and talk. Can you have lunch with me?”

  I nodded. “Frankly,” I said lightly, “I’d like that very much. I could use your company. It’ll make me stop focusing on my sore head.”

  Adam laughed. “Great.”

  We decided where to meet at the diner by my place since I really, absolutely didn’t want to be driving too far today.

  “Right,” I told myself firmly. “Now, you need to get yourself sorted out.”

  The breakfast helped as did a work out. I felt a bit better after some heavy lifting. I checked my watch, and saw that it was almost noon. I should tidy up the space then leave.

  I cleaned the lipstick off the mirror, feeling very confused about that and the mystery underwear. I had no idea who had been here or how she had gotten in. I wondered where she was now.

  At one, I arrived at the diner. I stumbled in and took a seat near the window. I ordered coffee, hoping that it would clear away the last of the blurriness. I added sugar to lift my energy and began slowly sipping it when Adam walked in.