Sweet Keeper (Sweet Talkers Book 1)

by Thalia Sanchez

  “He didn’t know that,” I reply, feeling a wave of satisfaction hitting me.

  The sweet taste of payback is fantastic. Karma—and not my friend—is real and this just proves it.

  He wanted a shortcut to pass the class, and it ended up biting him in the ass.

  “And you didn’t tell him,” Ash guesses.

  I move my head in a short and dry nod.

  “Certainly.”

  “I can’t decide if that’s genius or suicidal,” Karma comments. “Possibly both.”

  I agree.

  There’s a chance that I’m going to end up getting sued by the whole McKinley lineage for making an idiot of his golden boy. At least I made an effort to acquire the knowledge instead of taking the easy way out. Well, for the tests, but those are details.

  “We had a small argument after the test, and I put him in his place. Then I stumbled upon John in the cafeteria.” I clear my throat, giving a last sip to the bottle. “I may have told him that he’s a terrible loser and that if he didn’t take his sorry ass out of my face, things were going to get worse.”

  Silence reigns in the kitchen; my friends are entirely petrified when I finish speaking. The only thing that can be heard is the beeping of the microwave and the background music. The girls remain stiff as poles, and when the song ends, everything gets more awkward than it already is.

  A whole minute goes by before Ash blinks, shaking her head. She’s the first one to react.

  “Let me see if I got it.” Ash breaks the silence. “Wasn’t John your college love?”

  “Crush, but yeah,” I correct her as I move my hand to take importance off the topic.

  I wouldn’t call John a college love. That’s a powerful word that I’ve never felt romantically speaking. So, he’s not going to be the first one to get that honor. I refuse to give my heart to someone like him, or his clique.

  “And now you hate him?” Ash continues, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle that I’ve dropped in front of them.

  I tilt my head as I make a disgusted face.

  “That’s a reach. More like despise.” I shrug slightly. “I realized that I’m always into assholes, and it has become a pattern. Can you guys believe it?” I question, hoping to get a more comforting reaction that shatters the tension around us.

  Talking about the guys that I like is always a sensitive topic because they never agree with me. Ash is the only one that gets me or understands my magnetism to jerks, but it’s not like I get a lot of support from Cora and Karma. They’re brutally sincere with me.

  “Honestly? Yes,” Cora replies in a severe tone.

  Anger flows through my anatomy.

  “You were meant to say ‘no’, idiots. But I’ll continue with my monologue since you don’t know how to follow a goddamn script. Thanks.” Rolling my eyes, I put the bottle of wine away.

  “Bree, I’m serious,” Cora presses the subject. “You have low expectations when it comes to guys. I don’t know where it comes from, but it’s always there. You’re a freaking valuable woman that deserves something better than a guy like him.”

  Cora is blunt, and her words sting, even when I know that she means well.

  Ever since she found out that I had a crush on John Carter, she has made it clear that she’s not a supporter of my feelings. Cora’s hate for athletes is not unknown. It comes a long way before we met in the first year of college, for a reason that I don’t understand. For her, John is the type of guy that you can’t take seriously. They’re clowns, assholes, idiots, and pure fuckboys that put their dicks in every hole they can find.

  She doesn’t want that for me, which is okay.

  But I don’t want to marry the guy. A little fun with him wouldn’t hurt, since I don’t get attached to people. I can say that John has been the longest crush that I’ve had without getting bored, and that’s due to not being in contact with him.

  Obviously, since the first time that we had a conversation, I ended up being disappointed.

  “Thanks for nothing, girl,” I mutter bitterly.

  No matter how much I understand her, I’m stubborn.

  “She’s right,” Karma defends her. “You pick guys who are… well, trash.”

  Oh, c’mon.

  I’ve met worse guys. An example of that is Mike, the second guy that I hooked up with, that spread the rumor in my school that I cheated on him at a party. In reality, I ended up things because he dropped the “L” bomb on me during sex.

  “Don’t help, Kar,” I plead, biting the inner side of my cheek. “At least admit that he’s attractive.”

  Cora wrinkles her face with disgust and says, “I don’t know what you see in him.”

  “If it helps, I do find him attractive,” Ash intervenes, turning off the stove as she smiles at me. “Putting it in simple words. He’s a magnet, and I am metal. That’s how attractive he is.”

  “See?” I point at her. “That’s support! Not what I see from you two.”

  Cora shrugs.

  “I prefer to be the kind of friend that tells you the truth to your face than to be the one that supports your bad choices,” She excuses herself, raising her hands peacefully. That hurts. “I know that it won’t stop you, but I try.”

  Even when it’s hard to believe, I appreciate her honesty. At least she’s not lying to me to make me feel better. However, her words exasperate me every once in a while.

  “I know,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Can we get drunk already?” I change the topic, shifting away from the tension, and I earn a laugh from them.

  “I can’t drink a lot today. I have to be at the academy early, but I promise to be with you guys for a bit,” mentions Cora.

  I glance at Ash and Karma, waiting for their response.

  “Oh, we’re in,” Karma chirps.

  Chapter Five

  A girl's night with alcohol and upbeat music is what I need to ease the spitefulness and frustration that's taken home in my chest. There's a bottle of vodka on the floor, and we spin it every once in a while, as we take turns to drink from it. The buzz from the alcohol is tingling under my skin, the vibe settling in the apartment.

  A couple of hours after the conversation that we had in the kitchen, we moved the party to the living room. We've played a couple of drinking games—Cora being the referee most of the time—and now we're tipsy. No, we're close to being drunk already. Our laughter is loud, tears are streaming down our faces, and I'm sure that we'll end up earning a noise complaint from our neighbors. However, I'm unbothered by that fact. I don't care enough about what I'm doing on the road to getting wasted.

  Everything that happened this week is a blur in my mind. I'm still unmotivated, frustrated, and disappointed in my absurd crush on John Carter. I'm not heartbroken. No, that would mean that I have deeper feelings for him, and that's not the situation. However, I am scorned with how things went down. I never expected him to be an asshole. I realize now that I'd been fooling myself to keep my illusion of him intact.

  We're incompatible.

  But acknowledging that doesn't ease the anger boiling my blood. Mainly, I'm mad at myself. In a group of friends, there's always one that makes the wrong choices when it comes to men. In my group, I'm that friend. The one that never picks the right guys. I've never chosen the guys that I'd be proud of bringing home, which is why I haven't introduced a single guy to my parents.

  “This is the last one,” assures Cora, shaking her head. Her blonde hair is tied in a bun, and a blush covers her cheeks due to the alcohol in her system. “God, I'm dizzy already. I can't go to the academy with a hangover.”

  Her comment makes me realize that I'm dizzy too. I've been confusing the lightness of my body with the typical buzz of being tipsy. I'm not that drunk. Or am I? There's a weird vibe flowing through my body, and everything seems happier and fun. That's it. I'm happy. The negative feelings have abandoned my mind for the first time in the whole week. It feels like a brick has been lifted from my chest.

>   There's no Stanley or professor Byrne.

  Just plain old happiness.

  I'm joyful.

  “What time is it?” Ash questions. “It can't be that late, right?”

  Cora shrugs.

  “I don't know, but I'm exhausted already,” she replies.

  “Wait, I'll go check,” I say, getting up from the floor so fast that I stagger and almost fall back to the floor. "Shit."

  Oh, fuck.

  Maybe I am drunk but not wasted yet. I'm still aware of my actions, and I think that I can drink a couple of shots without ending up intoxicated.

  I walk to my room, pushing the door so hard that it crashes with the wall with a loud bang. I'm afraid that I broke it and I'll have to pay to get it fixed because I don't know how I will explain that to my parents.

  Shaking my head, I ignore the flags, telling me that I need to slow down with my actions and concentrate on the task of finding my phone in the darkness of my room. I'm not as sober as I thought I was because I end up crawling over the mattress of my bed. Stretching my arms, I fumble around trying to find it, probably looking like Velma from Scooby-Doo.

  I immediately stop when I hear my phone crash on the floor.

  Please don't be broken, I repeat like a mantra that will protect the screen. I allow myself to sigh with relief when I see that the glass remains intact. Or I think it is. I'm not so sure because I can't see well in the dark, and my sight is now blurry.

  I don't think that I need more confirmation. I am drunk.

  The numbers on the screen are clumped together, making it impossible for me to decipher what time it is. Instead of asking the girls to read it for me, I distract myself with the apps, visiting Instagram for a few minutes. I have a new direct message that intrigues me. I have to blink to clear my sight until the words aren't blurry.

  ryderweisss: I have a feeling that we're going to be great friends. Wanna go to a party with me?

  I frown with confusion. Who the hell is this guy? We barely know each other. I'm trying to figure out if I read right, but that's definitely what the message says. Thinking about him makes every event of this week come back to my head.

  “Bree!” I hear Ash calling me, startling me as if I've been doing something wrong. “Did you get lost in your room or what?”

  “I'm coming,” I yell back, blocking my phone without answering Ryder's message. “I got distracted.”

  Instead of telling them what just happened, I connect my phone to the speakers, putting music. The song that plays has an electrifying rhythm that immediately puts me in a better mood than before. The tingle from the alcohol is more present in my skin, caressing every inch of my body as I return to the living room, rocking my head from side to side.

  I see Cora going to her room, and I lower the volume because I'm not going to be an asshole. If she needs to sleep, I'm not going to be the one disturbing her. Waving goodbye, I jump to one of the couches, my gaze focusing on Karma. She's lying on the floor, her arm covering her eyes from the light.

  “I'm not asleep,” she assures in a mumble. “I'm resting my eyes.”

  Sure thing.

  I close my eyes and allow the music to fill my veins as my thoughts start to wander to places I don't want them too. The memories, the emotions, the messiness that reigned over the past week... Everything hits me at once, and I feel like I'm about to explode. I'm failing miserably at drowning them with alcohol.

  “C'mon, Bree, let it out.” Ash's voice drags me back to reality.

  I shake my head, avoiding the conversation as long as I can. I'm an excellent listener, an average advisor, but a terrible speaker. I prefer to lock it all in before I let everyone know what's going on in my head. It's a lousy coping mechanism, and I know that it's only going to hurt me in the future, but that's the only way that I handle my feelings; I postpone them.

  “That's not happening,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Chica, por favor. Let it out. Cora's gone, so she can't scold you for whatever you need to talk about,” Karma says. “How do you feel about it?”

  I roll my eyes, clenching my teeth.

  “You need to be more specific than that,” I reply.

  “The John thing, Stanley, the test... Everything?” Ash mentions.

  Inhaling deeply, I do my best at collecting my feelings. I need to find a way of letting it all out without sounding bitter or desperate. I'm neutralizing my emotions before I talk about them.

  “I'm done thinking and talking about the failure of the test,” I comment with honesty. “Stanley? He's not even part of the picture now that the test is out of the conversation. He's douchey and egocentric. We've been through that already.” I pause, passing the tip of my tongue over my bottom lip, pulling it into my mouth. “The John thing," I snort. “That's a complicated topic.”

  “Why?” Ash presses the subject, focused on squeezing the words out of me.

  “Because he's complicated. I don't think I like him, but the way that he spoke to me? You should've heard him. It was like I was less than him.”

  “Then forget about him.”

  Karma's suggestion only fuels my frustration.

  If it were that simple, no one would rot in a pit of deception. No one would cry over a broken heart. However, I'm not heartbroken. I'm... in a limbo. There's not a way of naming it. I can't like someone that I don't know. That's not how it works. I can feel attracted to someone, I can yearn for physical things, but I can't get my heart shattered. It doesn't work that way.

  “Gee, thanks for the tip.”

  Ash sighs. “Bree, what do you truly want? Forget him or make him notice you?”

  I swallow at the latter option because I never considered it to be a solid choice. I don't want John to become a permanent or a real thing in my life. He's a crush, someone platonic that I'm going to get over soon. But then again, I've had the hots for this guy for over a year.

  Even when I'm closed to the idea of having real relationships, I’m sure about that part. I don't want a relationship. I don't like the pain or the responsibility that comes with that tag. I want to have fun.

  However, I don't want to fuck anyone that thinks that I'm lesser than them.

  Fuck John Carter.

  “I'd rather die than to talk to him ever again,” I respond with a scowl.

  I won't get that low ever again. I'm always first in my list of priorities, and that's not going to change because I'm horny for one guy that smells like heartache and bad decisions, not even when I'm a sucker for those guys.

  For once in my life, I'm choosing to do the right thing.

  “You don't have to talk to him being you.” Karma breaks the silence.

  I lift my torso, leaning on my elbows to stare at her. Karma's taking a swing from the bottle of vodka.

  “Right, let me just change my identity and get plastic surgery. Why didn't I think of that?” Pure sarcasm drips from my words.

  “You don't have to do that, mujer. Just create a fake account,” she explains, and I wait for her to laugh and tell me that it's a joke, but that doesn't happen.

  She remains silent.

  “Wait, are you serious?” Ash yells out, sitting straight on the couch, taking the words right out of my mouth.

  “Isn't that illegal? I'm sure that there used to be a show about stuff like that,” I mumble, feeling the panic coursing through my body.

  “Catfish!” Ash exclaims, remembering the title. “I used to love it. People believed in those situations. The drama in that show was unbelievable.”

  My mouth goes dry when I contemplate the idea. It's not a bad one. People do it all the time, right? It's for fun, so there won't be any harm. The internet is full of users that never reveal their true identities. I follow some accounts like that. I'm not planning to seduce and make John Carter fall for me through a fake account.

  I just want some closure. I want to be able to let out all of my inner desires and then forget about him. It would be like a breakup letter, without the
breakup part.

  It's crazy, messed up, impulsive, but I still want to do it.

  “Pass me the bottle. I need a few drinks before I can take this seriously.”

  Ash gasps, realizing that this is going to happen.

  I'm not going to pass this chance. I want to be able to dump my feelings—or the illusion of them that I had for him.

  Besides, no one will ever know it was me. I highly doubt that he's going to be a Sherlock and decipher the real identity behind an anonymous account. Plus, there's no way of him knowing about this. There are dozens of girls on campus waiting to have a bite of him. The odds are in my favor for once.

  Reluctantly, Karma passes me the bottle.

  I demonstrate that I’m confident about my choice when I stand up again, drinking straight from the bottle. My eyes water when I swallow the alcohol, gulping more than I should've. Coughing, I try to get rid of the bitter taste that installs in my mouth as I go back to my bedroom.

  This time, I turn on the lights to search for the laptop without dropping it. I don't want to have another screen scare. I find it on the desk where I left it hours ago and I carry it extra carefully. My pace is slow because I don't trust my feet when I'm drunk. But I do my best to walk in a straight line without bumping into the walls of the hall.

  I find the way back to the living room in one piece. I sit on the floor next to Karma because she's closer to Ash too and that way we don't have to move a lot, and we're all able to watch the screen. My fingers tremble while I put in the password.

  I'm nervous and insecure about all this, but the adrenaline is enough to push me through it.

  “I hate myself for this,” I say with honesty. However, I don't hold back when I open Safari. “This is stupid. Why am I doing this for him? He's a douchebag, he doesn't deserve a word from me.” Panic takes control of me, bringing back a reasonable thought to my mind.

  “This is good for you. Think of it as a cathartic way of getting rid of him,” Karma calms me.

  I turn my head to glance at her, frowning.

  “Since when are you my therapist?” I quip.

  She chuckles.