by Kate Benson
alex
Five bars, three strip clubs and two convenience stores later, it’s nearing four a.m. and I’m finally back in my room.
Mason and I barely spoke the entire night. After the stunt I pulled with the bartender – which ended just as abruptly as it began – he steered clear of me for the rest of the party. Sure, we exchanged a few glances here and there, but once Dash’s friends joined them, he stayed pretty focused on them, same as I did with Evie and hers. When we stumbled our way back to the car that was waiting to get us safely back to the hotel, he wouldn’t even look at me.
I can’t really say I blame him.
I’d thought at the start of our night, especially after his stupid comment, that this was exactly what I wanted. To stay as far away from him as I could, save for a handful of stolen glances and sarcastic jabs that would make him feel bad for how he’d treated me.
However, despite the high school mentality I’d dedicated myself to, as I say goodnight to Amy and follow her to my door, I can’t help but stifle a low sigh of regret.
Stupid comments notwithstanding, I also hoped that there would be some truth to Dash’s hushed words of encouragement earlier in the car.
I’d hoped somehow, someway, that Mason would find a chance to pull me aside, genuinely apologize once the smoke cleared, say he understood why I’d been so offended at his implications.
Maybe even if he couldn’t do that, he’d at least want to talk to me, take a moment to tell me he didn’t want our week to go down in flames quite like this.
For the first time ever, tonight I realized that what I really wanted was for Mason King to want me in all the ways I just realized I’ve wanted him all along.
But that never came.
Instead, we just stayed angry, ignored each other and dug our hypothetical nails in a little deeper until all that is left is my bleeding heart.
“You really did it this time, Alex,” I shake my head, reaching for the spare garbage bag I’d grabbed from housekeeping this morning and begin collecting the remnants of mine and Evie’s pre-party destruction. “He tried to apologize, but your stubborn ass wouldn’t hear it.”
But I wasn’t ready, I remind myself. The way he treated me was wrong.
“Yeah, but the way you treated him was pretty messed up, too.” I whisper before I swallow hard, resigning myself to the familiar taste of loneliness that I know is coming. It always does.
When I glance down, my bag is filled, and my small frame is riddled with exhaustion and emotional defeat.
I tie a quick knot in the bag and kick my shoes off, smiling small at the leftover spritz of glitter still covering my toes.
The night I’d had out with my best friends was amazing, but now that I’ve had time to think about the way Mason and I left things, I’m spent.
“You just have to get through tomorrow,” I remind myself. “After that, you’ll have your car, you’ll have married off your bestie and you can run back home with your tail between your legs,” I sigh. “Lord knows you’ve always been pretty good at that.”
I make my way into the bathroom and twist on the water, waiting for the steam to begin bellowing out before I reach for the garbage bag and move toward the door.
I quietly drop the bag just outside the door, ready to slink back in for the night and hide away from the world, when movement pulls my eyes back out into the hallway. I hesitate and brave a glance back, surprised to find him sitting on the floor beside his door.
“What are you doing?” I ask, glancing up both ends of the hallway before my eyes fall back on his. “Did you lose your key?”
His eyes move up to mine and slowly, he shakes his head.
“No,” he says, the sounds of giggling coming from the other side of the door. “I did lose my room, though.”
“Oh,” I manage, biting back my laughter when he cringes at another, slightly more pornographic noise. “That’s gotta be awkward.”
“Not the highlight of my night,” he allows, eyes following me as I clear the short distance between us and come to a stop in front of him. “I can’t say it’s been the worst part, either though.” His eyes hold mine, his features shifting slightly as he seems to debate on his next words for a moment before his voice finally slips out once more. “Your friend from before,” he starts, nodding toward my door. “He in there waiting for you or were you just talking shit?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, taking another quick peek up and down the hallway for nothing in particular, before finally, I shake my head, relent and slide down the wall beside him. “Talking shit.”
“Good,” he sighs, the relief there obvious as he glances over at me. “Are you still pissed off?”
I can smell his familiar cologne, mixed with whiskey and a scent that’s all him, and it invades me as I pick at the carpet between us nervously.
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “A little, probably, but I’m starting to think that’s just normal for us.”
His deep chuckle slips out and bathes my sadness in something else I didn’t know I needed before I walked into the hallway and saw him sitting here. I glance up, grateful to see his previously miserable expression slightly less.
“Yeah,” he nods, releasing another low, tired sigh. “Yeah, I think you might be right about that, sugar.”
“Maybe,” I agree, my voice quiet, shaky. “So, now what?”
“Now, I guess it’s time to eat a little crow,” he admits, voice low. “I’m sorry I kind of inadvertently called you a whore.”
My eyes move to his and with his words, I can’t help the low laugh that slips out.
“Well, then I’m sorry I kind of intentionally acted like one to get back at you,” I offer, making his eyes widen.
“Are you sorry for that?” he asks, unable to hide his own amusement when I shake my head.
“You kind of had it coming,” I confess, savoring in his low laughter.
“Yeah, I did,” he sighs, lips still turned up slightly. We sit for a moment in silence, our fingers resting close enough on the carpet between us that they thread together instinctually. “I really am sorry,” he whispers. “You know what I was trying to say, don’t you?”
“I know,” I nod. “And yes.”
Another loud growl comes from the other side of his door and I glance over in time to find his eyes rolling of their own accord.
“Sorry you lost your room,” I offer, resting my head on his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, pressing his lips to my hair, the gesture so sweet, I can’t help but squeeze his fingers tighter in mine. “I’d much rather be in yours anyway.”
chapter twenty-three
mason
I left Alex’s room early the next morning, the sight of her stretched out on her stomach, bare leg peeking out of the sheet, etched perfectly in my mind before I shut the door. When I sneak into the hallway we’d made our peace in four hours earlier, I can’t help but jump when I see the door to my room opening, too.
“Scare ya?” Dash smirks, scratching his wild hair as he quietly shuts the door. “Sorry, man.”
“For scaring the hell out of me or stealing my room?”
“Just for scaring you,” he admits. “Not sorry for the other, but it looks like shit worked out.” He nods toward Alex’s door behind me and I nod, taking my key card from him while he gives my arm a brotherly pat. “Good deal, bro,” he yawns. “I’m getting coffee. You comin’?”
“Yeah,” I nod, releasing a yawn of my own. “How’s Evie?”
“She puked a few times, but she’s good,” he says, hitting the elevator button. “She sounded a little rough on the phone, but she’s up and doing shit now.”
“Where is she?” I ask, glancing down the hallway toward my room. “She’s not in there?”
“Naw,” he shakes his head, stepping onto the elevator and waiting for me to join him before he hits the button to the lobby. “She decided last minute yesterday to be superstitious and crashed with Amy in her room
last night,” he continues. “She was gonna go across the hall, but for some reason, Alex didn’t answer the door.”
“That’s weird.”
“That’s exactly what I said when she told me,” he smirks.
We watch the illuminated numbers decrease slowly in silence, but as I reflect on what the day ahead of us has in store, my thoughts are anything but. I glance over at my best friend, my ride or die, the kid I met in my mom’s classroom when we were twelve, and I can’t help the lump of emotion that gets caught in my throat. We’d been through a lot of shit together – plenty of it we caused ourselves and some of it we hadn’t. More than once, we’d argued like brothers, threatened to walk away from a lifetime of friendship knowing even in that moment, we were totally full of shit.
I’ve defended this man against everyone I’ve ever known, been down on the ground fighting him in the dirt as a teenager. When he badmouthed my sister growing up, I badmouthed him right back, but I’d be damned if anyone else would ever treat him like that. I’d toss their asses in the dirt twice as fast first.
Because that’s what you do for a friend – a brother.
Regardless of what life has thrown at us over the last decade and a half, we’ve always had each other’s back. To say I always knew I’d end up on an elevator in some swanky hotel, mere hours away from marrying him off to anyone – much less my baby sister, his previous enemy – would be a lie. I know I said they’d fall to disaster the minute I found out about them, but I’ve never been happier to be proven wrong.
And today, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
“What the hell are you going through over there?” he asks, pulling my attention back to him as we approach the lobby.
His face is scrunched up slightly, his eyebrows judgmental as ever, and I can’t help the emotional chuckle that leaves my heavy chest.
“It’s finally gonna be official, man,” I manage. “After nearly eighteen years, you’re actually about to be my brother.”
He studies my features, holding back a small smirk and gives me another good pat on the shoulder.
“We’ve always been that, bro,” he smiles, pulling me in.
“You take care of her,” I demand, my voice low and broken with emotion and he immediately nods.
“Always,” he promises, his voice low, too. “I mean, you’re about three kids too late for this part of the talk, Mase, but you’ve got my word.”
“Don’t ruin it, jackass,” I shake my head, pulling a low chuckle from his chest as the doors slide open.
We pull apart from our brotherly embrace and I ignore his lowkey smirk when I wipe the back of my hand over my eye, doing my best to discreetly hide my emotion. I’m pretty convinced I’ve pulled it off until I look up and see the large family of six watching the exchange, waiting awkwardly for us to step off the elevator.
“Come on, sugar,” Dash replies dryly, slipping his sunglasses on as he gestures for me to follow him out. “Let’s get you in a cab and on your way back to the whorehouse.”
alex
Despite how peacefully I woke up, the gentle reminder of Mason all over my skin as I drifted into the shower, the rest of my morning can only be described with one word.
Mayhem.
I love Evie. She’s one of my best friends, my closest confidantes. I’d jump in front of a bullet for her in a millisecond without hesitation, but when I tell you this chick has officially lost it?
Holy Bridezilla.
Her saving grace, in addition to the fact that I’ve known her long enough to know with some certainty that she isn’t actually certifiable, is also knowing at least seventy-two percent of the things coming out of her mouth are not her, but a hungover, hormonal woman who’s taken captive of my best friends body.
By noon, I’ve spoken to three different vendors, gotten her room changed twice and have helped to narrowly avert at least four breakdowns – two of them Evie, one a member of the venues staff and the current threat?
Mason.
Yeah. I didn’t see that one coming, either, but when his eyes begin to tear as she’s trying on her veil and he swallows back a shaky breath, I know I’ve got to get him the hell out of there or he’ll threaten to sink the entire ship.
I smile and nod, assure everyone that everything is okay, and quickly yank him into a private bathroom at the end of the hallway.
“Mason,” I say low, holding his eyes. “You’ve got to keep it together, okay?”
“I know,” he nods, pushing out a low sigh. “I’m trying, I just … I’m not being a bitch or anything. You might not know it, but I helped raise that girl,” he shakes his head. “I don’t get like this at all weddings.”
His words make my heart clench, and I can’t help it when they make me a little emotional myself.
“Actually, I did know that,” I admit, helping him straighten his suit jacket. “Evie talked to me about it yesterday – that you were more than her big brother, you were her first best friend, helped take care of her and your mom after your dad …” My words trail off and we both swallow hard as our gazes hold. “And even if you did cry, I wouldn’t mind that. I think it’s really sweet, I’m just dealing with a lot in there. If you need to get emotional, it’s totally fine, but I need you to hold your shit together in front of your sister.”
“I know,” he nods, and already, he looks himself. “I’m good now.”
He clears his throat and watches me adjust his tie once more before I give it a gentle pat and take a step back, inspecting him before raising my eyes to meet his.
“How’s it look?”
“Good,” I nod. “Really good.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm,” I hum. “Like, get the hell out of here before I derail the schedule good.”
“That’s pretty good,” he smirks, placing his hand against my waist before he pulls me close, his hot breath making me heady as his lips rest against mine. “You’re not looking so bad yourself.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” he groans, flicking his tongue against my lower lip and releasing a low hum when I whimper just slightly. “I’m about to bend you over and show you my boutonniere.”
“Oh, my God,” I groan, laughing against his lips as I firmly push him away from my chest. “Get out.”
“What’s the matter?” he asks, his grip still firm on my waist despite my efforts. My hands fall easily on his strong arms as he lifts me onto the small sink behind us. “You don’t want me to toss your bouquet?”
“You’re so stupid,” I giggle breathlessly against his mouth as he tugs on my lower lip with his teeth and he lifts the bottom of my dress enough to slide his hand over my thigh. “We can do this later.”
“Come on, baby,” he husks as he dips his lips onto the crook of my neck and traces the edge of my panties with his fingertips. “Let me introduce you to the best man.”
“Okay, I didn’t actually hate that one,” I admit, making him smirk against my lips.
He releases a low, amused growl of victory, slipping his fingers passed my silk thong and teasing my entrance. When he feels how wet I am, he groans and lowers his mouth to my neck as he holds me in place.
“I don’t think I can wait until tonight, Alex,” he growls against my mouth, kissing me harder. “I need to fuck you now.”
“Oh, my God,” I whimper low, my head spinning as he pulls one of my hands from the edge of the sink and places it between his legs, groaning into my mouth as I grip the strained fabric. “Shit,” I pant, reaching for his belt. “Fine, but we have to hurry, and you have to be careful,” I tell him, pulling a nod from him. “If you mess my hair up, Evie’s going to kill us.”
“Okay,” he promises. “Please just stop talking about my sister.”
He pulls away just enough to free himself while I slip off the sink to raise my dress above my hips. When he reaches for my hips and turns me around in one swift movement, I release a needy gasp.
“Bend over for me,” he orders gently,
carefully pushing me forward to grasp the sink before he yanks my thong down and takes my hip. “Hold on, sugar.”
Before I can respond with little more than a low whimper, he pushes inside me so much force that it takes my breath, and my mouth falls open in pleasure. I nearly cry out, instead gripping the mirror in front of me with a loud smack followed by a low string of expletives wrapped around his name.
“Shh,” he croons, his grip tightening on my hips. “I know, baby,” he whispers, his lips parted as his hot breath rains over my skin. “We have to be quiet.”
One hand leaves my hip to wind around my front and I gasp as he begins tracing my entrance, rubbing my swollen clit as he pushes deeper inside me. My heavy gaze flickers to the mirror in front of us as I begin to clench his shaft. The sensation makes his thrusts quicken and his head slowly falls back in pleasure, his hazel eyes hooded as they flit open enough to stare into me and it throws me over the edge. My jaw goes slack, my walls clench around him. A low growl slips from his broad and he slams into me hard, deliciously stretching me, his eyes never wavering.
By the time he fills me, we’re both panting, the mirror foggy with our heavy breath. I know I should pull away from him, but I can’t yet. His hand palm raises slightly to rest low on my stomach, stroking my skin gently as his gaze stays locked on mine.
That’s when I know he feels it, too.
A moment passes and he holds me there, the gravity of this – us – holding us captive. When his grip leaves my hip and raises to my chin, his fingers trace my jaw before he bends to gently press his lips to mine.
“Alex,” he whispers, and my eyes flutter open to find his hazel gaze trained on mine with such intensity, I stagger slightly. “I th-”
“Mason!” Dash calls out, followed by the sound of pounding loud enough on the door that it makes me jolt, grabbing my chest. “Bro!” he continues, his voice hurried, slightly panicked. “Are you in there?”
“Yeah,” he calls out, frustration and apology slightly staining his features before he reluctantly slips away from me. “I’m coming.”
He quickly zips up while I replace my dress and panties, before he cracks the door open slightly, hiding me behind it.
