“All I said was I need a break to wrap my mind around everything. Figure out what I want to do.”
“Wrap your mind around what? What a fucking failure you’re going to become?”
“I’m not a fucking failure. I can do plenty without a fucking degree. Mom is okay with me dropping out. Why can’t you be?” I can see the hurt radiate in his eyes and hear it in his voice.
It tears me up to see him like this. My father would support me through anything. Victor, on the other hand, has always seemed to have this disdain for his own son, and it seems worse when he’s been hitting the bottle.
“Because you’re a useless fuck and a waste of fucking space,” Victor bellows.
Colin scoffs. “You must be looking in the mirror.”
Victor’s fist connects with the side of Colin’s face and he stumbles back into the wall with a bang.
Holy fuck, he hit him. I gulp and turn around to face the television in fear of being seen watching.
“Get the fuck out of my face.”
I turn up the volume on the television when I hear feet storming away up the stairs.
I can’t believe he hit Colin. I know he's an angry asshole, his words will always be hurtful and vile, but I’ve never seen him get physical before. But I’m not dumb to think this is the first time it’s happened. Which puts me on red-alert to know I need to watch my back.
Victor storms into the living room and I pretend not to see him, watching some lame entertainment news channel. He snarls beside me, causing me to glance his way.
“Get your feet off my coffee table.” My feet quickly fall from the table. “And tell your mother when she gets home I’ve gone to the bar. I’ll be back later.”
“Will do.” I muster up my best act of sweetness and give him a smile, trying not to be disgusted at the monster that stands in front of me.
“Thank you,” he grits out, sounding more like a fuck you. Thankfully, he walks out the door, leaving my presence.
I throw the remote onto the coffee table and race to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Stopping at Colin’s door, loud heavy metal music belts some angry lyrics. He won’t hear me if I knock, so I twist the doorknob and open it.
“Colin?” I yell out, walking into his room.
He’s nowhere to be seen, so he has to be in the bathroom. I’ve only been in his bedroom a couple times, but it's never been longer than to tell him dinner was ready. I take my time to admire the gray walls he has lined with rock posters and sports memorabilia. His queen-size bed is unmade and I picture getting tangled in the sheets with him. I move to his desk and, since I’m nosey, I shuffle through his papers. Nothing stands out for me to read, but then I see a picture of us stuck on his corkboard. It was taken last month at the Chili Cook-Off Concert. I take it off the board to admire it.
Colin has his arm around me as we both smile at the camera. My body shivers remembering that moment he asked someone to take a picture of us since it was my first concert ever. When he pulled me close, I thought I would expire. He smelled so good and my body melted into his. We fit together perfectly. It was so hard not to want to kiss him that night.
Looking back at his board, my heart stills as I realize I am the only picture hanging on it. He has his old school schedule, but the picture sits directly in his line of vision.
“What are you doing?” Colin asks loudly, causing me to yelp and drop the picture to the floor.
Fuck, I was lost in my own mind. When I spin around to face him, the visual does nothing to help my schoolgirl crush—at all.
He stands before me with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair tousled and damp, causing beads of water to drop down his chiseled chest. When God made him, he sculpted him from his prized molds. He’s perfection and it’s not fair.
Why do our parents have to be married? We could easily be together and run off into the sunset.
Who am I kidding, the only that would happen is if I kidnap him and handcuff him to my wrist.
“Abigail, what are you doing in my room?” he asks forcefully, and I remember I haven’t answered him.
I give him a weak smile, shifting on my feet. “I um–wanted to come in and check on you. That fight was brutal. I can't believe he hit you. Are you alright?”
My eyes rake over his handsome face and I spot the reddish, purple hue under his chin. It doesn’t look as bad as I thought it would, considering the sound of the crack when Victor made contact.
He moves to his radio and turns off the music. “I’m fine, thanks.” He yanks open his dresser drawer and grabs a shirt, pulling it over his head.
“Oh, well, okay then. You do know you can talk to me. I might not understand, but I’m here for you—”
“I’m fine, really.” He cuts me off and pulls out a pair of his boxers. He steps into them and I can’t help but watch his every move, hoping that his towel slips before his boxers make it around his hips.
Lady luck isn’t on my side when he drops the towel and his boxers are where they should be. I’ve seen Colin in just his underwear a few times, his package looks like he’s packing for sure, but as I look at it now, I can’t help but think it seems bigger, semi-erect maybe?
But what the hell do I know? I’ve never seen one up close before.
“Okay,” I chew on my finger, still staring at his package of goods.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Abigail?” he bites out, annoyed.
My eyes bounce to his, pulling me from my mindless gawking. “I don't know. I thought maybe we could hang? Order pizza or something.” I shrug, knowing I just want to mess around like the other day. “I mean, I don't get to spend much time with my big bro.” I tease.
“Don't call me that. I'm not your brother.” He slams his dresser closed, shorts in his hand.
I roll my eyes, hurt by his brush off and that he doesn't want me associated to him. It is what it is. And here I thought we got along, making those words sting even more.
Then what am I to him?
“Brother, step-brother, what's the diff?”
“Huge difference. Monstrous difference. Now, like I asked, Abigail, what do you want?” he snaps, pulling on his shorts and ending the floor show.
“You want to order a pizza?” I mumble, feeling like an idiot for asking again.
“No, I'm going out tonight.”
“Oh, okay. Well, do you want to come to my party tomorrow night?” I do my best not to sound exasperated by his dismissal.
“Party?” He looks at me confused, but at least it’s better than disdain.
“Yeah, I’m throwing a party tomorrow night since my mom and Victor are going to be gone. One of my friends is going to DJ and there will be booze. You should come. It’ll be fun,” I ramble, and he pinches his nose.
“You have no idea what kind of trouble you're getting yourself in, do you?”
“Maybe, but I never get to have friends over anymore. I didn’t even get to have one of those sweet sixteen parties that you used to see on TV. I’m owed this even if I have to take it.”
When I turned sixteen two months ago, I spent it in my room, alone. My mom wouldn’t let me have a sleepover with Sandy and Tamara, even at their house. She wanted to take me out to dinner, which she later canceled because Victor was ‘sick.’ I was so pissed afterward, I no longer wanted to celebrate because it was no longer sweet. But now I’m taking back the day I’m owed and making it fun.
“I had some plans already.” He scratches the back of his neck and avoids looking at me.
“I mean, you can bring your friends if you want. I know hanging with a bunch of high schoolers wouldn't be your thing. But it's me and you know I’m a lot of fun to hang out with.” I give him a winning smile, hoping he’ll crumble to my charm.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He gives me an uncomfortable smile back that tells me he won’t be coming.
“Right, I'll see ya later, I guess.”
I run out of the room feeling my heart deflate. If
I can't have him as more, is it wrong to want us to at least be friends, or I don't know, have him care about me?
I thought I at least had that with him.
Doing my best to shake it off, I head to my room. All I want to do is scream, so I flop on my bed.
Covering my face with my pillow I let out the loudest scream I can muster. Once it’s released I toss the bright pink pillow to the floor. I kick my legs and my fist to the mattress, letting out the rest of my aggression. “I want the Colin I knew before everything got so awkward. Is that so hard?” I mutter out loud—maybe as a prayer—wishing back what was.
I hear his bedroom door close and the thumping sound of him going down the stairs. He’s never going to want me and even if he did there's no way we can be together. I need to get over this stupid crush.
I’m standing in front of my full-length mirror checking myself out in my outfit for tonight. Once Mom and Victor were out the door, I went to the mall with my besties Sandy and Tamara. I needed something that would blow everyone out of the water and say, ‘look at me bitches, tonight I’m the star.’
Well, I found it and under fifty bucks too.
The red dress hugs my curves perfectly and shows off the right amount of cleavage, making my breasts look amazing and huge. The red pumps I’m wearing match the dress and make my legs look longer than they are. My blonde hair is curled flawlessly around my face and down my shoulders.
I look fucking hot.
There’s an hour until my party, and I make my way to the kitchen before I go to the basement to finish setting up. While I was out today, I bought enough food, drinks, and cool ranch Doritos to feed my army of friends.
Opening the fridge, I’m dying of thirst, and I dig around the drawer of sodas. Buried under a bunch of grape sodas, I find my last diet root beer that I've been craving for hours.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Colin’s gruff voice startles me and I drop the can to the floor, letting it roll away.
Great, I'm not opening that now.
I spin around and glance down at my stellar dress before glaring at him. He’s staring at me wide-eyed, looking like a dickface.
“I'm wearing a dress?” I wonder why in the hell he cares what I wear. It’s not like he gives a shit about me anyways.
“I get that, but where’s the rest of it?” he says as he noticeably swallows.
I swear his eyes are roaming over my body, but I’m sure it’s my mind playing tricks on me. I need to stop holding on to hope he could ever want me.
Fuck him and his stupid face.
“What are you? My father now?” I hiss slamming the refrigerator door, making everything inside rattle. “Since, you know, I can’t call you my brother anymore,” I yell, throwing the words he used at me yesterday.
“Abby—” he starts and I raise my hand to stop him.
“I made sure I got the shortest. Not only because I look good, but I’m hoping maybe tonight I’ll get lucky.” I smirk and he shifts uncomfortably.
He clears his throat and shakes his head. “Right.” Bending down, he picks up my runaway root beer and places it on the island. When he looks at me again, his expression gives nothing away and he mumbles, “Have fun,” before turning away from me, to head to the front door.
“Yeah, fun,” I whisper, feeling suddenly out of place as the door closes behind him.
He was here, and now I wonder if I scared him away. Again. Had he decided to stay for my party?
No, he said he had plans.
And did he really not like my dress? Rude.
I’m so confused. All his back and forth mood swings would drive anybody to the nuthouse. Taking the can of root beer, I make my way downstairs, hoping that this party will make me forget all about Colin fucking Wagner.
If You enjoyed this sneak peek you can check out So Wrong So Right Here! Free With Kindle Unlimited.
Check out my other titles on Amazon:
THE LOVE PLAN
I FOUND YOU
SO WRONG SO RIGHT
WATCHING YOU
STRONGER
PLAYING WITH FIRE
PLAYING WITH FIRE: THE CONCLUSION
DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:
To my husband: Thank you for being the most supportive person in the world as I take on this publishing journey. For taking care of the rugrats so I can write and also reading every chapter against your will. (HA! I’m just kidding.) At least till the point where you get annoyed with me because I ask you every hour if you read the last chapter. Love you.
To the best group of women I know: Denise, Lexi, Leslie, Melissa, Aakriti, Suzan, Helen, Colleen, Q.B., Carmel, Harlow, Gemini, Kelsey, Kristen, Rose, Danielle J, Erin, Danielle, Hala, Kelly R, Kim, Wendy, Rochelle, SE, Krista, Jessa, TK, and Jeanette. I would be lost without you guys! Thank you guys for always having my back, listening to me, reassuring me, motivating me, and helping my stories grow. I owe you guys more then you’ll ever know!!! Love ya all.
To my readers: You guys are pretty flippin’ awesome too. I love you guys. Thank you for coming along with me on this ride and enjoying the words I write. (then asking for more?? )
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Erica is a wife, a mother of four, and a tequila drinking smart mouth. When she’s not wrangling her children and trying to keep them alive, she’s writing. She’ll write anything from steamy erotica, to HEA romance novels because not all love stories are created equal. As long as she can dream it, she'll write it.:)
Erica Marselas
Living The Dream Through Words
“Dreams come to us when we sleep—but when you write them down, they come alive.”
Perfect Storm Page 19
