Falling for a Bentley

by Adriana Law

  “I don’t need you to show me how to breathe,” I say.

  “You don’t?” He looks skeptical.

  “I think I can handle the simple act of breathing without you.”

  “But are you breathing properly?”

  “I don’t know. I breathe the same as everyone else.”

  “Your boyfriend has you doing his underwear?” He lifts a pair of Colton’s boxers, dangling them from a fingertip in front of my face.

  How did we go from my breathing to underwear?

  I snatch the boxers away from him, scowling in warning as I wad them up just because I can and toss them back into the pile. “I’m being supportive … unlike you.”

  “I’m here. How’s that not supportive?”

  My hands go still right in the middle of folding one of Colton’s T-shirts. I stare at Sterling in utter disbelief. “You’re serious, aren’t you? While your cousin is out making arrangements to bury his parents you’re bringing girls over to suck your …” I can’t even say it, but understanding flares in his eyes. “Does that seem right to you?”

  “It was one girl.” He tilts his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Why do you care who I bring here?”

  I shrug a shoulder, folding. “I don’t care. You want to be an insensitive selfish ass ... then whatever. I think it was tacky since you knew I was going to be here all day. And Inconsiderate. And Bold. And Trashy. Vulgar. ”

  My stomach drops when I finally pause long enough to glance up into stormy gray eyes. Sterling leans in closer, his mouth near mine, and for a brief second I think he might actually be stupid enough to kiss me. An angry spiteful kiss just to prove he can. I focus on the piercing in his lip.

  “Don’t take your pent-up frustrations out on me,” he growls. “You’ve got a boyfriend for that shit. You want to bitch somebody out … go bitch at him.”

  “I don’t have any pent-up—”

  The door slams and I’m left without anyone to hear the rest of what I was going to say.

  It always seems to rain at funerals.

  Colton’s parents were cared about by a lot of people. An insane amount of food and flowers started pouring into their home yesterday evening. I’d spent all night answering the door and working on rearranging places in the house to put it all. They would have plenty of food to feed them until they went back to Los Angles. Oddly, Uncle Bentley was semi-nice to me and Sawyer; he was his usual happy self. Colton set quietly in the living room staring off into space most of the night. I think his parent’s death finally hit him.

  “Want to talk about it?” I’d asked him.

  “Not now, Tori.” He’d snapped, staring off into space. “I just want to be left alone.”

  A cab picked up Sterling and he didn’t show up again until ten minutes before time for him to be a pallbearer this morning. I am shocked he’d even found time to put on a suit and tie. I’m not going lie, my stomach behaved funny at the first sight of Sterling looking like a guy who has his shit together. I guess an expensive suit and a nice pair of eyes can fool anyone.

  I’d worn the simple black cocktail dress my mother laid out for me to wear, with strappy heels, and left my hair down, curling it like I did for church on Sundays. The last funeral I went to was my grandmother’s. I remember my mother laying out what I should wear then too.

  I breathe in the smell of the flowers filling the entry way, sent as condolences to the family. Just beyond the open red double doors the concrete leading up to the brick church glistens wet from the rain.

  I am in charge of standing by the door, greeting people and handing out a Mass card with a saint on it. Inside is a prayer along with Colton’s parent’s names and the service arrangements. I don’t mind. Many of the faces are familiar; people I’d seen stopping by the house last night to check on Colton.

  “How are you doing?” my father asks showing his dimples. My father also looks nice in a suit. He leans in giving my shoulder a light squeeze.

  “My feet hurt,” I admit softly in his ear.

  “A small price to pay for beauty,” he returns with a wink. “I’m going to go find your mother. It will be starting soon. Need anything?”

  I shake my head and nod at mom standing a few feet away talking to Uncle Bentley. Of course Sawyer charmed my mother with his smile. My gaze slides to Sterling, the black sheep of the family. He has slipped off his jacket and is leaning forward in a chair, his elbows on his knees, while he stares at the floor. He seems to be hiding in the narrow hallway just outside the bathrooms. He looks tired and sad. Maybe he does have a heart after all.

  He lifts his head and glances over in my direction and I quickly look away, greeting the next people to walk through the door with a forced smile.

  One of them is Aubrey, the girl Colton is seeing behind my back. She has naturally curling strawberry blond hair and freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. Shifting nervously in her silk lavender dress, one arm straight by her side, the other folded loosely over her stomach, she offers me a weak smile.

  “Hey. How is Colton?” she asks.

  “Okay, I think. He hasn’t really talked about it much.”

  “That’s not good. He should … you know … talk … to somebody.”

  “Yeah. He should.”

  “I hated hearing about his parents.” She looks everywhere but directly in my eyes. “If I don’t get a chance to see him … will you tell him I’m sorry? Make sure he knows.”

  I nod. “Yeah. I’ll tell him.”

  “Thanks, Tori. You look really pretty,” She says, nodding at my dress. Red spreads across her cheeks. “Shit. Is that the wrong thing to say at a funeral? I never know what to say at these things.”

  For some insane reason I laugh, finding her, I don’t know … endearing maybe? She’d worn lavender to a funeral, said the word shit in a church, and is willingly to walk into a room full of complete strangers alone and be civil to the girlfriend of the guy she is having sex with. She is either crazy … or in love. I figure the only way to make her feel more comfortable with her inadequacies is to point out my own.

  “Thank you,” I return, pinching the side of my dress and doing a little curtsy. “My mother picked out this dress for me.”

  My gaze flies to where Sterling is sitting when I hear a low chuckle.

  Oh my God! Did he laugh?

  Sterling stands up, slides into his jacket and disappears through the door to the restroom never once glancing at me. A palm goes to my chest where my heart is racing.

  One thing I know for certain…

  I want to make Sterling Bentley laugh again.

  Dimples Should Come With a Warning

  Victoria

  “You’d think the guy would’ve at least shaved before he came over here.” My mother mutters, proudly eyeing the prime rib roast in the center of the dining room table as if she actually cooked it. Please, give me a break. This entire meal was planned and prepared by Cecily, our housekeeper, not my mother.

  Cecily out did herself this time, setting the table with our finniest china and crystal. She’d even turned the cloth napkins into swans. Cecily is a pro when it comes to origami and making our average dining room appear more elegant. There is a linen table cloth covering the table top, fresh cut flowers with sprigs of lavender and baby’s breath in a crystal vase. I wouldn’t be shocked if a man in a penguin suit pops out of our pantry with a folded towel draped over his arm asking, “Will there be anything else, Madam?”

  It’s all a show for the Bentleys.

  The only thing my mother was in charge of was lighting the candles and even that she didn’t do.

  My mother goes on, “If I were that boy’s father I’d insist he take out that piercing and cover up whatever that is on the side of his neck.”

  I bite down on my lip to keep from smiling. I thought she liked the Bentley’s. Sterling has seemed to snap her out of her infatuation with their money. She probably would have refused to let him through the front door if she knew about
the rest of his piercings and tattoos underneath the long sleeves. I arch a brow, silently thinking, while helping my mother worry over straightening the place settings. I wonder if getting your nipples pierced hurts. Is it a good pain? I’ve heard the pain of getting a tattoo can be very erotic, addicting even, the sting of the needle creating a natural high.

  This guy is corrupting my thoughts.

  He is invading my thoughts.

  I think how Sterling looked only minutes ago, sitting on our couch. He stands out in his faded jeans and dark gray long sleeve thermal Henley, the perfect combination with the eyes. The guy is sexy without even trying to be sexy. It just oozes off of him like a pheromone, attracting any horny female within a five mile radius. Tonight I seem to be that girl.

  “It’s a swallow … his tattoo.” I tell her. “Ouch!” the flame of the match burns down to my fingertip and I blow out what’s left of it, wishing it had been my dress that caught fire so I’d have an excuse to run upstairs and change. Don’t get me wrong. My mother has great taste in what’s young and hip, nothing embarrassingly hideous, especially when she’s ensuring I end up snagging Mr. Right, well, her opinion of Mr. Right. The dress is red, short, with spaghetti straps, the tight fit guaranteed to show off any assets I might have. It’s not a cocktail dress, but more like something Keria would wear to a party on the weekend. My mother bought jewelry and heels to match.

  The heels are killing me and my scar is visible, which means I’m basically naked.

  My mother goes on, “I don’t care what the tattoo is. It makes him look like he comes from white trash, instead of the family the guys been blessed with. I’ve never understood people like him.” I can believe that. “Ungrateful. He is obviously on something. You can tell by his eyes. I don’t want you talking to him. Smile and be polite, but keep an eye on the silver… I’ve heard druggies pawn it to pay for their next fix.”

  She uncorks a new bottle of wine allowing it to breathe.

  “Mom … you’re over reacting.”

  Suck or leave. It’s that simple. Okay, maybe she’s not over reacting, but she doesn’t need to know that.

  “Just don’t talk to him, Victoria, I’m serious. Lord only knows what inappropriate things go through that guy’s head,” she warns.

  I shiver thinking about where Sterling’s mind goes, but not for the same reasons as my mother. She looks over at me then, her concerned eyes narrowing.

  “You know what? I think you should go upstairs and change. It was creepy the way he was staring at you earlier.”

  Now I don’t want to change the dress.

  “If you didn’t want me to wear the dress then you should never have bought it and he was not staring at me. You’re paranoid.”

  “What I am is no longer comfortable with you wearing that dress. Not with him here.”

  Folding my arms over my chest I level her with a look of defiance, challenging her to make me go upstairs and change.

  “Oh, all right, you’re right; it will probably offend Colton’s family if you change now. Just stay away from his cousin,” she orders bearing down on me with her gaze. Her high heels click over the polished hardwood fading into the living room.

  “I believe everything is ready,” I hear her tell the others in a cheerful voice.

  Colton is the first one into the dining room, the others meandering this way. He grins slowly as he strolls toward me in a sports jacket and tan dress slacks. My hands leave the back of the chair I’m standing next to falling to my sides. His arm slips around my waist yanking me up against him. Colton angles his head smothering the side of my neck with wet sloppy kisses. He smells minty and his freshly shaved jaw is smooth sliding along my skin. The hand on my back moves lower cupping my bottom, squeezing it, his erection pressing into my lower stomach easily felt through the thin fabric of the dress.

  “You can’t tease a guy by wearing a dress like this and not expect him to want to get underneath it. The only good thing that’s come out of all of this … is your mother feeling bad enough for me to let you sleep over at my house. I’m sick of waiting, Tor. Tonight … I’m not going to take no for an answer.”

  “Do you two lovebirds need a few more minutes alone? We could go back out there and stall the old folks,” Sawyer chuckles, aiming a thumb over his shoulder at the doorway him and Sterling just came thru. “Damn, the sexual tension in here is crackling.”

  Colton’s hand leaves my bottom, these final words being whispered near my ear before he takes a step back, “We’re a couple. It’s time we start acting like one. Tonight.” He pulls out my chair and nods for me to sit, grinning wickedly and my stomach goes all fluttery, but not in a good way.

  Sterling’s palm slaps down on the corner of the table earning a what-the-hell glare from Colton. Colton’s moody cousin blatantly checks me out, head to high heel, before kicking out the chair nearest him, his movements off as he collapses into it. He stares at me from across the table with heavy eyelids. A chill crawls down my spine. Oh no. He’s high. I mean seriously messed up. He is actually grinning. Okay, it’s a dopey drug-induced grin, but it’s a grin.

  “How about passing that bottle of wine down this way,” he slurs at his brother, his fingers making the gesture of hand it over.

  I hear Uncle Bentley’s deep voice drawing closer, “It’s so nice … you doing this for us, Olivia. It really wasn’t necessary. There is more than enough food at the house to sustain a small army.”

  My mother’s voice, “We don’t mind at all. Your nephew is very dear to us. I hate we’re meeting under such horrible circumstances. If there is anything William and I can do to help … we’d be happy to, right honey.”

  My father’s voice comes from right outside the doorway, “Of course.”

  I freak watching Sawyer pour red wine into Sterling’s glass.

  “I don’t think he needs anything else to drink, do you?” My tone is scathing.

  “Yeah man, maybe she’s right,” Colton agrees, scowling at Sawyer. “Your brother looks like he’s had enough of whatever he’s on. We don’t need him showing his ass.”

  I’m conscious of my parents and Uncle Bentley deep in a conversation over firearms as they enter the dining room. They take their seats around the dining room table, immediately drawing Sawyer into their conversation. Apparently he has a strong opinion on the subject and spends a lot of his time at the firing range. I vaguely hear his desire to be a cop which (not only shocks me) but sends Uncle Bentley into shaking his head in disapproval which gives me more time to defuse the ticking time bomb across from me.

  “No son of mine is going to be in law enforcement. They’ll have to bury me first.” Uncle Bentley tells my parents. “If either of my boys is eager to work … then there is plenty to do within the family business. To be quite honest I have trouble motivating my oldest to even get out of bed so Sawyer is going to have no choice but to learn the business.”

  “What my father doesn’t understand is I’m not interested in overseeing any conceited anorexic models or his gas stations,” Sawyer states.

  The two bicker back and forth, but I’m no longer listening to them. All my attention is on Sterling.

  I silently warn him to not drink anymore wine.

  One of his eyebrows rises and I get my first glimpse of dimples. He reaches for the glass, a grin curling a corner of his mouth. He keeps his eyes on me as he downs everything in the glass just to spite me. He is hell-bent on turning tonight into a disaster.

  Dimples should come with a warning: Dangerous! Could knock your world off its axis, categorized as a weapon, proceed with caution.

  Colton is oblivious to anything around him, texting on his cell phone. Thank goodness. One rebellious male at a time is enough for any girl to handle.

  “You’ve had enough,” I mouth at Sterling.

  He leans forward, closing as much distance between us as the table will allow. His eyes glisten with repressed laughter.

  “I thought we’d already had a discussion a
bout where to direct your bitching.”

  “I’m just trying to save you from embarrassing yourself.”

  “I don’t need saving, Victoria.”

  Sterling drops his eyes to his plate and picks up the napkin sitting on top of it, Cecily’s wonderful origami. Lines form at the corners of his eyes as he smiles, bringing the dimples out full force. My stomach fills up with butterflies.

  “Is this supposed to be a fuckin’ swan?” he mutters to his brother, sticking the folded napkin in Sawyer’s line of sight. Sterling shakes his head, amused. Sterling aims what is meant to the beak of the bird at Sawyers cheek making a Caw, caw sound.

  “Dude, get that crap out of my face,” Sawyer snaps, leaning out of range and knocking Sterling’s hand away.

  “Crows caw, not swans,” I correct, fighting really hard not to smile.

  “Who says? Are you the bird police now?” Sterling balances the swan on the linen table cloth, looking it over carefully at eye level. He smooth’s the beak down and then up. “There, that’s better … a swan with attitude.”

  A giggle escapes before I can stop it and gray eyes lift to mine. He elbows his brother and motions for him to pass the wine down again. Sawyer does it as if it is an automatic response.

  My mother clears her throat. “Should we eat?”

  “I know I’m hungry,” Sawyer responds, already holding up his plate.

  Yes. Please. Let’s eat before this turns into the dinner party from hell.

  My father slices into the roast. The Cesar salad is passed around. Silverware clicks against plates.

  “How about you? Are you planning on leaving to go to college after graduation?” Uncle Bentley asks me.

  “He’s snooping,” Sawyer teases, seeming amused beneath long lashes. “He’s hoping you’re leaving so dipshit here will decide to come back to Los Angles with us. You do realize you’re the only reason he’s staying? That makes you a problem.”

  Colton shoves his cell phone in his pocket.

  “Hey! She’s not the only reason. I happen to like it here. I’ve lived here my whole life, just because my parents…” Colton’s jaw tenses, muscles jumping under the surface. “Can’t you all give me a break? Time to digest all that’s happened over the last forty-eight hours? Is that asking too much?”