by K. I. Lynn
My friends finally return. They slow down as they get closer.
“Brayden . . . I have to go.”
His jaw twitches, but he eases out of the booth anyway.
In my haste, I almost bolt without even saying goodbye to my friends.
Brayden takes care of that for me. “We forgot we have to meet up with our family.”
Good enough. I wave and somehow walk away from the table without looking in Austin’s direction.
Austin calls out my name.
I speed up.
“Leave her the fuck alone,” Brayden snaps at him.
Tears rush to my eyes, but I blink them away. I won’t cry for Austin. I’ve already cried enough for Brayden, and he was once the guy I actually loved.
I know in the back of my mind that Brayden is following me, yet when he catches up with me outside and grabs my arm, I gasp. “Brayden! Let me go. You’re hurting me!”
He drops my arm, his breath racing, his eyes almost black in the shadows from the sun. Neither of us says anything, and he refuses to look at me.
He’s furious.
So am I. For being an idiot. For believing Austin wanted something real with me.
For entertaining the idea of trying with him even though I feel nothing when he touches me.
“Let’s go.” Brayden’s voice is hoarse. There’s chaos inside him, contained but potent. I feel it.
“I came with my friends.” Shit, how could I forget? I have no way home.
“I’m driving you.” He says it in a way that brooks no arguments. He’s already pulled his keys out of his pocket.
Logic dictates that I should argue. Going anywhere with Brayden is a bad idea. Being alone anywhere with him always, always leads to a lapse of judgement.
But he’s angry. More than that, I can sense that invisible injury in him, the one I picked up on last night when I sent him away in front of Austin.
Brayden’s hurting. Just as much as I am.
It’s too much to analyze. I’m not ready. I don’t know what to do with that. Instead, I find myself nodding.
Truth is, I’d rather get a ride home with him than with my friends. I can’t bear to pretend right now. Or worse, have to dodge their questions and come up with believable lies.
“All right. Let’s go.”
A double take from Brayden. For that one millisecond when his eyes meet mine, all I see is cold despair. A pain he’s trying hard to hide.
Even guarded, his green eyes seem to shimmer with so many things.
I ignore the tightness in my chest and follow him to his car.
And that’s when I realize what I’m about to do. I’m going to get in that car with over six feet of angry, tumultuous man. A man whose scent alone scrambles my brain.
A man whose presence alone reminds me of years of agony.
A man I still want.
Brayden lays his hand flat on the roof of his car. He still won’t look at me. “Kira, get inside.”
I don’t move, frozen in place by everything I feel. And, fuck, right now I feel so much.
He’s here, pursuing me, and he seems to be willing to take hit after hit for me.
And none of that can erase an ounce of the resentment I feel when I look at his beautiful face. I’m fucking choking with it.
“Kira, let’s go. Please.”
It’s that softly muttered please that does me in.
I can never forgive him, but I have no interest in hurting him any more right now.
I’m hurting enough for the both of us.
Silent, I get into the car. Brayden doesn’t say anything either. My body trembles with awareness. The silence on his end is so intense he might as well shout and rage at me.
He doesn’t. Whatever he’s feeling, he swallows it, keeps it locked inside himself.
Is he choking on it, too?
I take shallow breaths to avoid inhaling too much of his scent—futile. It surrounds me. Everything about him overwhelms me.
I chance a peek at him. His jaw looks hard as granite, his full, kissable lips pressed tight together.
It’s fucked up how that restrained violence calls to me. Pressing my thighs together, I look out the window. I’m such a mess, and I have no idea how to even begin to make sense of it. Maybe I’m too young, too immature. Too fucking inexperienced.
I hate feeling like a little girl who’s gotten burned from playing with the grown-ups, but it’s time to admit that’s probably what I am.
We pull into the driveway at my house. I move to unclip my seatbelt.
“Austin and Jennifer are fucking.”
Brayden’s comment stops me. I keep my eyes lowered. “You’ve fucked her, too.” And I saw it once. On a night when I’d needed him more than anything.
“I haven’t touched her in years. He fucked her recently, from what I can tell.”
Tears flood my eyes again. Goddammit, I don’t even know why I’m this upset. I feel something for Austin, but it’s definitely not love. Not even close.
I try to exit the car.
Brayden grabs my wrist. When I turn to make him release me, I’m hit with the pained, tender expression on his face.
“Do you want me to fuck him up?” he asks me in a serious, fierce whisper.
Is he . . . is he offering to beat Austin up for . . . I don’t get a chance to finish the thought.
He drops my wrist, slamming his back into his seat. Restless, he throws his head back. Exhales. “God. Fucking asshole. I’ll rip him apart for fucking hurting you like this!”
Oh. My. God.
He punches the steering wheel.
I grab his hand before he can deliver another hit. “Brayden. Stop!”
There’s a madness in those inflamed eyes. A frightening madness that makes them glitter like green gems. “I know I’ve hurt you, too. That I have no right. But I’m going to fucking kill him for hurting you like this.” A pause. Several harsh breaths. The madness expands, a palpable mix of hurt and need that drags me in. Then . . . “I’m going to kill him for taking a piece of your heart away from me and then breaking it.”
Pain. God, so much pain. Why am I not desensitized to it yet? I can’t harden that piece of my soul that’s forever exposed to Brayden, and the emotions he’s struggling with poke at it. Pierce it. Make it bleed all over again.
I start trembling, tears leaking down my cheeks, too torn apart to control it.
Brayden exhales like I’ve sliced him open, too, his jaw clenched against the torment.
It’s the very last thing I should do, but I let myself squeeze his hand. His big, warm, tanned hand, with its broad, strong palm and long fingers. “I once would’ve given anything for this hand to belong just to me,” I whisper. For his whole body, but I don’t say it. I don’t need to.
He tightens his hand around mine, his hold anxious. “It does. Every part of me.”
I shake my head because we both know I’ll never let that happen again. Right now, I don’t hate him, but in the next few moments I will once more, and nothing he does or says will change that.
I loved him too hard, too young, and he warped that for me. Ruined my ability to properly love. I have no clue what a healthy attraction even looks like and that’s all thanks to him.
There’s no other option for me. I’ll have to learn, start from scratch. Scrape away years of negative association and somehow convince my mind to trust again.
How could I ever do that with the same man who broke me in the first place?
A man I can’t even publicly have.
But right now, he’s hurting because I’m hurting. Willing to avenge a wrong he perceives had been done to me—he, the very man who has hurt me so bad—and I can only blame my weakened, messed-up mind for what I do next.
Wiping the tears off my cheeks, I look into his narrowed, stormy eyes, and tell him the truth. A truth I shouldn’t tell him, but one I need him to know nonetheless.
“I’m not crying because Austin hurt me. Not like that.
I could never feel for him that way.” I rush out of the car as soon as the words are out of my mouth, and I don’t stop until I’m inside the house, locked in my room.
Holy. God.
What did I just do?
I don’t think I’ll ever forget the stunned look on Brayden’s face.
Fuck. Why did I tell him that?
Now he knows. Now he knows how I feel for Austin.
And it’s probably only a matter of time before he comes to the conclusion that I still feel something for him.
I fall back on my door and slide down to the floor, staring off into space, wondering what the hell I’m going to do now.
April 25th, 2015
Saturday is not going how I wanted it to. I’m alone and bored.
Ashley and Marilyn are at a family reunion, while Jenna is grounded at home for missing curfew. Mom and Steve went to some event downtown and are probably going to be gone all day.
I could go shopping, or to the gym, or half a dozen other things, but instead I’m sitting in front of the TV with Netflix up, trying to decide on what series I’m going to dive into.
And keeping my mind off everything that happened last weekend.
School helped distract me all week, but now I’m at home with silence, and I feel it. The itching in my chest, the tightness, the growing . . . despair? No, that’s not the right feeling.
It’s all jumbled, disorienting. I don’t know how or what I feel. It’s all a big freaking mess.
After deciding on breaking down and watching Vampire Diaries, I hop up to grab something to munch on from the kitchen. Staring into the pantry leaves me with multiple options: chips, crackers, popcorn, trail mix, and cereal.
Fruit Loops sounds like the perfect moody munchy, and I grab the box and plop back down on the couch.
I hit play with the remote and reach in for some fruity, crunchy goodness when the doorbell chimes. I contemplate ignoring it, but instead hit pause and go to find out who’s here.
The moment I have the door open I want to shut it again. I want to slam it hard in his face.
“What do you want, Austin?” I cross my arms over my chest.
He looks nervous, which he should be. “Can we talk?”
I turn from him and walk into the living room.
“What?”
“I want to talk about what happened last weekend,” he says. I can hear him step forward. “Kira, please look at me.”
With a huff I swivel around and glare up at him. “I don’t want to hear about how good of a fuck Jennifer is.”
He shakes his head. “I made a mistake, a huge one. I like you, and—”
I push against Austin’s chest. “All you motherfuckers are the same!”
“Kira—”
“No. I don’t want your lame ass excuse. Every time a guy tells me he wants to be with me, the next second he’s fucking that slut. Why?”
He stares at me, fear in his eyes. “I was drunk and . . . Fuck . . .”
“Drunk? That’s your excuse for sticking your dick in that clap trap?”
His lips form a thin line and his expression hardens. “Yeah, an excuse, but I know you don’t want to hear the reason.”
“Try me.”
His jaw twitches again and he looks away, then back. “I saw it.”
“Saw what?” I ask with a huff.
“The way you looked at him. The way he looked at you.”
I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”
“Brayden.”
My eyes widen and I stare at him as my once boiling blood turns to ice.
No. Brayden is not a subject I want to talk about.
“When you told him to leave . . . That wasn’t the way you act with a brother or a even a friend. It felt like I was the one intruding on some intimate scene between lovers.”
I take a step back and shake my head. “It’s not like that.”
“Then tell me what it’s like.” He steps forward, staying in my personal space, suffocating me with his interrogation.
“It’s complicated.”
He lets out a strained laugh and lifts my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “Complicated? Screw complicated, then. I want you. I’ve wanted you for years, but him and your brother were always there, blocking everyone. Then I finally get the chance to be close.” His jaw ticks and he looks around. “I’m laying myself out here—I like you, a lot. I want you to be my girl. Do you feel anything for me?”
The blood in my veins heats up again to a raging boil. “Really? You’re asking me out after having sex with her?” I can’t even say Jennifer’s name. I want to rip her hair out, slam her face into the ground, and kick the shit out of her.
He shakes his head, but I don’t know if it’s at me or at himself. “I’m sorry.”
No. Not that. “Fuck your sorry! I’m fucking tired of that word!”
His head hangs. “Please, Kira, I’ll do anything for a chance with you.”
“Another thing I’m tired of hearing,” I hiss. “I thought about it, you and me. I really did. I wanted to give you a chance, to see if we could be something.” He looks up, eyes meeting mine, a mixed look of happiness and horror. “Then you stuck your dick back in that slut. So tell me, what the fuck is so great about her pussy that it always seems to win out over feelings for me? Why am I not enough to win out over an easy, well-worn pussy?”
His expression morphs, eyes narrow on me. “You seem to think I’ve been with sleeping with Jenn this entire time. The last time we were together was years ago, Kira. Years ago.”
I blink back at him, my hands shaking. Oh, no.
How could I be so stupid?
He steps forward, making me back up. “And you’re really worked up about it. Now I’m left wondering . . . or more like realizing, that all your anger is about Brayden. Is that what happened between you two?”
I gasp and look away. “I don’t . . . It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Yes, it obviously does. Brayden used to be my friend. Used to be.” He stresses the last bit, and it dawns on me how much their relationship has changed. “The second I showed interest in you, I lost my friend.” The sorry, feeble Austin is gone, replaced with a strong, angry version. “And I didn’t fucking care. Do you want to know why?”
He steps closer, but this time I don’t back up. His body almost presses to mine and I’m forced to lean back to look up at him. There’s a spark in his blue eyes that were so dull moments ago, and an energy radiating off him. Part of me wants to reach out and calm him, but another part is afraid.
I’m stuck, captivated by him, by the curiosity.
His hand rests on my hip, but I can’t seem to slap it away. “Because all I want is you.”
The words snap me back to focus on how close he is, and I press my hands against his chest as I glare up at him. “Then, again, why sleep with her?”
“Because all you want is him, and I couldn’t take it and got shitfaced. All I can tell you is I’m sorry that I did and that it was with Jenn, who you clearly hate.”
I stare up at him, at a complete loss of what to say. I’m tired of this conversation. I feel like I’ve been having it for years.
“Stop. Just stop.”
“No.” He grabs hold of my chin and makes me look at him. “No more of this bullshit. I like you, a lot.”
He leans down and presses his lips against mine. I gasp against them, slow to respond, but I do. His kiss is soft, tender, and so different from Brayden’s. When our tongues meet, there’s no spark.
This kiss is still good, just . . . lackluster.
“Your indifference kills me,” he whispers against my lips. “Pick me. I can help you get over him. I can love you better than him.” He steps back, releasing me. “Think about it, Kira. Please promise you’ll think about it.”
I nod, staring after him as he walks out of the room. The telltale thump of the front door closing is my signal to fall back onto the couch.
Why does my love life have
to be so freaking complicated?
May 11th, 2015
“What hasn’t sold yet?” I ask as I tape off another box of clothes, wishing I had a bed to crash onto and could take a break.
We’ve sold off most of the furniture, not that there was a lot, but there seems to still be a lot of crap we’ve accumulated over the last three years. I didn’t think packing was going to be a near three-day event.
Ryan is across the hall, doing the same, cursing at something as he searches for his laptop. “Umm, there’s two guys coming for the couch at one. Jill from next door is coming to get the table after work at three.” He’s silent as he scans over the spreadsheet he made. “Did you get the money for my bed?”
I freeze and look over, thankfully seeing a wad of bills sitting on my nightstand—one of the few furniture pieces going with us. “Yeah. A hundred bucks.”
He cranes his head into the doorway. “Lunch?”
I nod. “Fuck, yes.”
We both climb out of our respective messes of bags and boxes, and head down the stairs. The main floor is mostly packed up: a couple boxes of kitchen items and half a dozen boxes for electronics, games, and DVDs.
“Microwave?” I ask as we head out the door.
“Jordan’s picking it up.”
I shake my head and laugh. “I can’t believe he and Ella are moving in together.”
“He’s so freaking grateful I think he’s going to name a kid after you.”
We don’t even have to talk about where to go. Jersey Mike’s is always our go-to sub shop, and only a few blocks walk from our apartment.
“So, we’re done, then? Nothing left to sell?”
He nods. “Finish packing, that’s it. Oh, and clean.”
“What time is Dana coming?” It’s just after eleven, and I want to get out of town by two. That leaves a lot to do in the next few hours.
I’m itching to get home to Kira, to see her again. It’s been almost three painfully long weeks.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and turns the screen on. “Shit, I missed a text. Looks like she’ll be here any minute.” His fingers hit a few keys, then he raises it up to his ear. We keep walking, already to the parking lot, then his tone changes and a smile lights up his face. “Hey, baby. Yeah, I’m sorry, I just saw it.” He pushes the door open to the shop. “We’re at Jersey Mike’s, want me to get you something?”
