by Kai Juniper
If only he'd waited a few seconds, I would've had my first orgasm, at least one brought on by a guy. I've had plenty I've given myself but that's different. This one would've been better. It didn't even happen but I could tell.
"You gave her a tour of your room?" Parker says to Briggs. "With the door closed?"
Parker knows something was going on and he seems angry. Why would he care? Because of Aubrey? Shit, I wasn't even thinking about her. Briggs keeps saying he's breaking up with her but as far as I know, he's still dating her.
"I was showing her the house," Briggs says in an angry tone. "Now get your ass downstairs so we can get this over with."
Parker looks at me a moment before going back down the hall.
I meet Briggs at the door. "He knows."
"He doesn't know shit." Briggs' phone dings and he looks down at it. He mutters something, then shoves his phone in his pocket.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Let's go."
We go out in the hall and he shuts the door, then leans down to my ear and says in a low voice, "Stay here after they leave. We need to talk."
I'm wondering if he really wants to talk or if he's hoping to continue what we started in his bedroom. I can't do that if he's still with Aubrey. Even if he was single, I shouldn't be doing anything with him, so why do I want to? Why am I already craving to feel his hands on me again?
"Finn, get your ass out here!" Briggs yells as Parker and I take a seat on the couch.
"Where's your dad's scotch?" Finn yells back.
"You're not drinking! Now get your ass in the living room! We're all waiting."
Moments later, Finn appears, a bottle of water in his hand.
"Give me that!" Briggs yanks the bottle from him.
"It's just water, asshole." Finn plops down in the middle of the long couch. Parker and I are on the ends.
Briggs smells whatever's in the bottle, then takes a drink before handing it back to Finn.
"Like I want it now," Finn says, setting it on the table.
"Let's start with an update," Briggs says, remaining standing as he looks at the three of us. "Anyone have anything?"
"The guy's still in ICU," Parker says. "I heard it on the radio on the way here."
"Did they say anything else?" Briggs asks.
"They still don't know who he is. I'm guessing he's some homeless guy. He was probably drunk or high and got confused and ended up on that road."
Briggs eyes go to me. "What about you? Any updates?"
"Just what I told you about what I saw when I went to get my truck."
Parker turns to me. "What'd you see?"
"Flowers and a sign were left where it happened."
"What'd the sign say?" Parker asks.
"Something about repenting your sins. It was a bible verse. I can't remember exactly what it said."
"You should've taken a picture," Finn says.
"I couldn't. My dad was with me."
"That sign was for us." Parker shakes his head. "People think we left him there to die."
"They don't know it was us," Briggs says. "And we didn't leave him there to die. We called for help."
"Can we hurry this up?" Finn says, swiping through his phone. "I have shit to do. I don't want to sit here all night."
Parker shoves his shoulder. "You don't have anything to do. You just want to go home and smoke weed."
Finn smiles. "And drink."
"You do that and you're gonna fuck up the call with the insurance guy," Briggs says. "You need to lay off the booze and the weed until you're done talking to him. One screwup and the insurance company will start investigating what really happened. Then they'll tell the police and the four of us will become suspects."
We all look at Finn, who's messing with his phone.
"Yeah, whatever, I'll stay off it, but it's not gonna make a difference. Just tell me what to say so I can get out of here."
"I think you should stick with the original story," Parker says. "They can't prove it's not true."
"They can if they look at the cameras," I say. "Most parking garages have cameras. The insurance could ask to see the recording from that night."
"Which will prove that Finn lied," Briggs says. "I wasn't even thinking about that. We never should've used that story."
Finn leans back on the couch, looking bored. "So what do I tell him?"
"Just tell him you were looking at your phone and hit a light pole," Briggs says. "Tell him you don't remember where it was because you didn't pull over. You didn't think it did any damage."
"What about the rest of you?" Finn says. "I hit a pole and none of you told me to stop?"
"You told him we were with you when this happened?" Briggs asks.
"Yeah. Why?"
Briggs lets out a sigh and rubs his jaw, clearly frustrated and wanting to scream at Finn for screwing up. We all want to scream at him but it wouldn't do any good. The damage is done.
"Great," Parker says, sounding annoyed. "Now we're all part of this."
I turn to Finn. "Why'd you tell him we were with you?"
"Because you were." Finn rolls his eyes. "Duh. Why would I lie about that? The cop saw us together."
"But he doesn't know we were with you when you damaged the car," Briggs explains. "Nobody needed to know that. The whole story was made-up. You could've lied and said you were alone."
"Oh, so it's okay if I get arrested while the rest of you get to go on with your lives?" Finn stands up. "This is bullshit. I'm leaving."
Briggs grabs him as he goes past and yanks him in front of him. "The fewer of us who are involved, the better. When you include us, there's a chance they'll question us, and if just one of us misses a detail or says something that goes against what the other person said, we're all screwed." He lets go of Finn. "That's why we're pissed you said we were with you. It's not because we want you to take the blame."
"Even though you should since you were driving," Parker mutters.
Finn races up to Parker. "Shut the fuck up! You were sitting right next to me. You could've told me a guy was standing in the road." He lunges at Parker but Briggs grabs him, holding him back.
"This was a waste of time," Briggs says. "All we're doing is fighting. Finn, just go home. We'll talk later."
Finn glares at Parker, who's ignoring him as he swipes through his phone.
Briggs lets go of Finn. "Everyone out. Meeting's over."
Finn storms out of the room while Parker and I get up from the couch.
"That was an epic failure," Parker says, going up to Briggs and patting his shoulder. "Great job, man. Can't wait for the next one."
"Fuck off," Briggs says. "You want to be the one to deal with Finn? Be my guest. You can beat each other up until you come to a decision."
Parker ignores him and turns back to me. "You coming? I'll walk out with you."
"Um, thanks but I have to talk to Briggs about our assignment."
He smirks. "Yeah, I'm sure you do. You know he's still with Aubrey, right?" He glances at Briggs. "You might want to call her. Otherwise you might end up single like me."
We wait for him to leave, and when I hear the door close I walk up to Briggs. "He broke up with Scarlett?"
"She cheated on him. I think she's done it before but I didn't tell him because he'd never believe me."
"But you're still with Aubrey," I say, just to confirm it.
"For now, but I don't know if it'll last. I'd like to just end it."
"Then why don't you?"
"Because I don't want her to suspect anything. After the accident, I stopped taking her out and I really haven't talked to her much. She knows something's going on and she'll be even more suspicious if I suddenly break up with her."
He's staying with her, which means I definitely shouldn't have been fooling around with him. Why did I do that? How could I be so stupid?
"Okay, well, I'll see you on Monday." I go past him, walking fast toward the door, wanting to get out of here.
"Ella, wait!" I hear him behind me, then feel his hand on my arm. "Don't go."
I turn to him. "We shouldn't have done it. You have a girlfriend. You should be with her right now, not me."
"And yet she's not the person I want to be with."
My heart's pounding, wanting to continue what we were doing upstairs, my body screaming for me to do it, but my head won't let me.
"I don't like Aubrey," I say, "but I'm not going to do this to her. You need to end things with her before we even think about repeating what we did upstairs."
"We don't have to do that. I just..." He looks down, rubbing his jaw. "I don't want to be here."
"Then go somewhere. Go get something to eat. Take a drive."
"That's not what I meant." He looks up at me. "I meant I don't want to be—" He stops and shakes his head. "Never mind. Go ahead and go. See you on Monday." He turns and walks away.
What was he going to say? That he doesn't want to be alone? Is that what he meant? He looked really sad when he said it. I've never seen him look sad.
Maybe I should stay. But what if it's all an act to get me to continue what we started in his room? Maybe he thinks I'll have sex with him.
I should go. I shouldn't be alone with him. Just a few weeks ago he was practically assaulting me behind the school. Being alone with him in his house, anything could happen. But I don't think it would, and I don't feel afraid. Something's changed with Briggs. Like he said, there's been a shift in our relationship. I don't fear him like I did before. Well, I kind of do but it's nothing like I felt before. Now my fear of him is based on the feelings he's causing me to have—feelings I don't want to have for Briggs.
There's noise coming from the kitchen. Briggs must be in there making dinner. And then he'll eat it, all alone, in this big, lonely house.
I shouldn't do this, and yet my feet are walking down the hall that leads to the kitchen. I open the door and see Briggs, his back to me. He's standing over the sink, gripping the counter, his head hanging down. Behind him on the center island is a plate and the containers of leftover Chinese food.
"Have enough for two?" I ask, coming up beside him.
He rears back. "What are you doing here? I thought you left."
"I was going to but then I had this craving for Chinese food and I remembered you had some left over. Any chance you'd share?"
A slight smile creeps up his face but sadness still clouds his eyes. "Sure." He points to the containers. "Take whatever you want."
"Where do you keep the plates?" I ask, opening a cupboard. "Found one." I take it out and dish some of the food on my plate, putting the rest on Briggs' plate. "You want it heated up?"
"Yeah, but I can do it."
"I don't mind. It'll give me a chance to try out your fancy microwave." I walk over to it. "I've never seen one like this. It looks like a regular oven."
"Because it is. That's a wall oven. The microwave is down there." He points to it in the island. "I'll get the plates."
I'm not really hungry but I could have a few bites. Even if I just stay for an hour, maybe it'll be long enough to wipe that sad look off Briggs' face. Why do I even care? He's made me sad plenty of times and not given a damn. I'm not even the cause of his sadness and here I am trying to make him feel better. Why am I doing this? I should just leave.
"Thanks," Briggs says, putting my plate in the microwave. "For sticking around."
"Sure." I look at him and wonder why he asked me to stay but not Parker or Finn.
I hope he's not planning to do something to me. I don't get the feeling he is, but the Briggs I know can't be trusted. The only reason I'm staying is because this isn't the Briggs I know. The one from last night wasn't either. He was actually nice to me last night. He was fun, easy to talk to, and a good listener. I hope that's the Briggs that's here with me tonight.
If not, deciding to stay was a huge mistake.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Briggs
I should tell her to go but she's the only thing keeping me from getting in my car and driving off a fucking cliff. I wouldn't actually do that but I'd do something destructive. Punch in a wall. Bash a window. Break every damn piece of china my mom left behind. It's the only way I could deal with this pain if I were alone. And maybe that's what I should do. Maybe I should tell Ella to go and then destroy the shit out of this fucking house that I hate.
But I don't want her to leave. There's something about having her here that makes what happened tonight seem not as devastating. Maybe it's because Ella doesn't even have a mom, so the fact that I still do makes me feel like I shouldn't complain, even though my mom doesn't give a shit about me.
She's not coming to my graduation. I got the text just as Ella and I were leaving my room to come downstairs. Ella could tell something was wrong and asked me about it but I couldn't tell her. I was too embarrassed that my own mother won't be coming to my graduation.
I'm her only son. I'm graduating at the top of my class. But apparently that's not important enough for her to show up. She has better things to do. Who the fuck knows what those things are, but they take priority over her son.
"Briggs?" Ella points to the microwave, which is beeping. "Want me to get it?”
"No, I got it." I take out the plates and bring them to the other side of the island where we have barstools lined up. I take a seat, my mind still on my mom, angry she didn't even have the decency to call and tell me the news.
"What's going on?" Ella asks, sitting beside me.
"Nothing." I go to pick up my fork but notice I don't have one. I get up and go to the drawer where we keep the silverware. I grab a couple forks and return to my seat, handing a fork to Ella.
She sets it down and turns to me. "Was it that text?"
I look at her. "What are you talking about?"
"Upstairs. You got a text and seemed upset. Was it from Aubrey?"
"No." I pause, wanting to tell her because I really need to talk to someone about this and I can't talk to Parker and Finn. They're not the type of friends you talk to about serious shit. They'd say to tell my mom to fuck off and forget about her. They wouldn't understand this is about more than her not showing up. It's about her taking off, not caring about her son, not even showing interest in me.
I don't know why I'm letting this get to me. I shouldn't even be surprised. She's been gone for over a year. She has her own life, and I have mine. But still, it hurts so damn bad, I guess because part of me actually thought she cared about me. I know my dad doesn't, and never has, and I've learned to accept that, but only because I had my mom. Now I don't, and maybe I never did. Maybe she's like my dad and never wanted me but felt the social pressure to have a child, someone to carry on the family name and run the business someday.
"Who was it?" Ella asks. "Who texted you?"
"My mom," I mutter, staring down at my plate. I don't know why I heated up food. I'm not hungry.
"What'd she say?" Ella cautiously asks.
"I don't want to talk about it." I shove my plate aside and blow out a breath. "Everything's just really fucked up right now and it's pissing me off. This is supposed to be the best time of my life. My last semester of high school. I should be out partying every night, hanging out with my friends, not worrying about the cops showing up at my door or that my own damn mom—" I stop before I say it, getting up to take my plate to the sink. I scrape the food into the disposal and run the water, watching it pour from the faucet.
"That's what this is about?" Ella asks, appearing beside me. "Your mom?"
I keep my eyes on the running water, trying to imagine it washing away these feelings I'm having, but it's not that easy. They can't be washed away, or forgotten, or ignored.
"What happened?" Ella shuts the water off. "With your mom. Is she okay?"
I nod. "She's fine."
"Then what is it?"
"Just go. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have asked you to stay."
"You didn't." She smiles. "You told
me to go but I really wanted that Chinese food."
"You didn't even eat it."
"Not yet." She looks down at the plate in the sink, then back up at me. "Briggs, I know something happened and I know you don't want to tell me but—"
"She's not coming," I blurt out.
"Who's not coming?"
"My mom. She can't make it to graduation." I grip the edge of the sink like I'm about to rip it off. A minute ago I was sad but now I'm angry. I keep alternating between the two, but I prefer the anger. I can deal with anger. I can't deal with sadness.
"Did she say why?"
I shake my head. "She just said she won't be there."
"When's the last time you talked to her?"
"I don't know, probably Christmas."
"That was over a month ago. You guys don't talk more than that?"
"I would, but she doesn't have time."
"She should make time to talk to you," Ella says, sounding angry. "Even if she's busy."
"She should, but she doesn't."
Sometimes I think she avoids talking to me because she doesn't want me telling her about my dad. Last summer I told her he hit me. I didn't actually say it. I hinted at it, but she knew what I meant. She blew it off, saying he was probably just stressed from work. And then she changed the subject and talked about something else. After that, her calls became less frequent. They went from once a week to once every couple weeks to once a month.
"I'm sorry," Ella says, putting her hand on my arm. "It's not right. Your mom should be here."
"So should yours," I say, glancing at her.
She shrugs. "In a way, she is. It sounds strange but I always imagine her being at holidays and school events even though she's not. It's easier that way, to imagine she's here, than to think about her being gone."
