by C. M. Owens
***
BRIN
“I have to pay him back,” I groan. This hour-long argument is getting old. “Especially now. I didn’t know he was paying for it himself.”
“He wants to do this, and it’ll piss him off if you argue. Just let him. It’s not like you’re taking advantage. He’s trying to do something nice.”
Huffing, I consider my defeat. I really don’t know what to do. I can’t afford this if he did too much. It’s been in there for a while, and his shop is outrageously priced. I looked it up online.
“So you’re doing something together? Again?” Maggie asks with a smile that says too much.
Ash invited me over, and begged me to let her set me up on another date, but I told her no. I’ve been excited about seeing Rye all day. And he never canceled, so I’m really hoping that means he wants to see me, too.
I’m happy with my selection of a semi low-cut, white shirt and a very flattering pair of frayed, dark denim shorts—short shorts. My hair is actually down and fixed, and I even put on a little more makeup than usual.
“This might sound stupid, but I think he might sort of be interested?” I say, but it sounds more like a question.
Maggie chuckles lightly while giving me a look I can’t decipher.
“He might be interested? Brin, a guy might be interested if he buys you a drink. If he pays to have your car repaired—after you crashed it into his on purpose—then it’s obvious he’s interested. More than interested. The two of you have been spending more and more time together.”
I can’t help but grin, and hope I’m not reading all the signals wrong. He slept on the sofa with me, we cuddled during the movie, and his arms stayed around me long after he went to sleep. I almost didn’t go to sleep because I was savoring every second of it.
“What are you two doing tonight?” she asks, leaning back in her seat.
“We’re hanging out at his house because I told him I want to use his kitchen. Which is true—his kitchen is freaking amazing—but it’s better than going out into the real world where all the gorgeous women call his name. And I’m not exaggerating.”
“He’s not spending the night with all the gorgeous women. And in the two years I’ve lived across from him, I’ve never seen him have a girl over. And I’m nosy. I would have noticed.”
I’m envious that she’s lived across from him for that long. I should have moved in with her the second she offered, but instead, I stupidly tried to manage living in hell. Well, my parents’ house—same difference. I only moved in here a few months ago.
“Do you think you could—”
The door swings open, interrupting whatever Maggie was going to say, and Rye stalks toward me like a determined man on a mission. And holy shit, it’s sexy as hell.
But my excitement is cut short when he sweeps down and throws me over his shoulder, walking back toward the door with me dangling.
“What are you doing?” I ask through a laugh.
Maggie smiles as she watches us, acting as though we’re her favorite show.
“I left at least three lights on,” he says while carrying me across the yard.
Crap.
“I didn’t do anything. I swear. Your window is locked.”
“I locked it so you couldn’t get in anymore, but I left three lights on, and now they’re all off.”
I just giggle, but then I see my Camry. Holy shit! It looks brand new. Better than brand new. Are those real wheels? And new tires? And tinted windows? It doesn’t even look like the same car, and that’s just what I can see under the glow of the streetlight.
“Hey! Let me see my car. It looks incredible!” I exclaim excitedly.
“Sure. Right after you walk me around my house. I don’t want to end up like one of the idiots from Home Alone with a scalded hand, a burned head, or a nailed foot.”
I can’t help but giggle. “No trust,” I mock, and he snorts derisively.
“Hell no.”
He stands me upright when we reach his porch, and he hands me his keys while keeping his front to my back, his body flush against mine.
“Open the door,” he says impatiently, and I bite back a grin.
Very purposely, I bend over and make sure my rear rubs his crotch. He doesn’t move as I squint in the darkness to try and see the keyhole, taking much longer than necessary.
“Tonight would be good,” he jokes, his voice full of amusement as his crotch stays firmly planted against my ass.
“Yeah, yeah,” I murmur in a putout tone.
Finally, I push the door open, and flick on the first light. “See? Your doorway isn’t rigged with a blow torch, and your door handle is nice and cool to the touch.”
He pokes his head in very warily, and he looks around, cautiously gauging every possible attack point.
“There could still be room for a nail in the foot.”
I let him guide me through the house from behind me, but his hands on my hips become distracting. I stare down at them, and he suddenly brings me to an abrupt stop.
“You’re about to run over a wall,” he says through a chuckle. “It helps to look up when you walk.”
He steers me to the right, and we walk through his kitchen, which calls to me. “I really want to cook in there.”
“That’s what you said last night,” he mumbles, not sounding overly enthused.
“I’m not going to poison you, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’d be too much of a waste to cook a meal in there and then ruin it.”
I expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps steering me into each room, forcing me to flip on the lights and walk around.
I laugh in between each new shift, but I can’t see his expression. He must be terrified since he’s being so quiet. That makes me a little proud.
“It’s safe,” I promise, lying my ass off.
He’ll find a few things soon enough. Most of it is in his massive, beautiful bathroom that I really want to play in. The all-tile shower has five showerheads, and they all looked like so much fun. Damn, I love his house.
When we reach his bedroom, my sharp intake of breath is unbidden and embarrassing. I was in here earlier, but he wasn’t home, so it didn’t really dawn on me how much magnitude this room holds.
His massive, king-size bed barely makes a dent in his ungodly sized room. Kings would envy a room this enormous. Maggie’s house is so small by comparison.
“Why do you live in the suburbs?” I ask, trying hard to swallow my nerves as we move around the room, getting closer to his bed.
“I have a house on the beach, but this place is closer to the garage. And it’s the one adult purchase I’ve made since I became an adult,” he says with no emotion.
“You had to make an adult purchase?”
“Well, this room seems fine. Now to the bathroom,” he says instead of answering me.
After we make it through the bathroom—where he doesn’t find either of my traps—we move back through his bedroom, and I chance a glance at the bed. I can’t help but wonder if I might make it there tonight.
The very thought almost makes me lightheaded. But he pushes me out of his room and back to the living room, finally seeming pleased that nothing too rancorous is going to jump out and get him.
Now I need to go grab the groceries for our dinner.
“Do you need a ride to Tag’s?” he asks. “I have a driver for the night. The car will be here in about twenty minutes. I just need time to change.”
Tag’s? Do I need a ride?
“We can pick up your date on the way to pick up mine if you want.”
The air in my big fantasy balloon is violently deflated as the crushing weight of reality hits me. “Date?” I ask in a hoarse voice that forces me to clear my throat.
“Yeah. Tag set me up this time. He swears it’s better than Ash’s choices. He said she got you a date, too.”
I’m so stupid. I was just in his room planning this night all wrong. I can’t believe I
really thought I had a chance with him.
“Um. No thanks. I’m good. I should go, though,” I say while turning away.
“That’s cool. Let me know if you change your mind,” he says dismissively.
He turns his back on me and starts unloading his pockets, so I take that as my cue to leave. I don’t even bother saying bye.
With quick, angry strides, I reach my house in no time and the door slams behind me. Maggie comes running out of her room, clutching her chest as though I just scared the hell out of her. But one quick look at my face, and her fear is replaced by worry.
“What happened?”
I roll my eyes while heading to my room, barely holding back a scream. “He has a date tonight.”
“What?” she asks in as much disbelief as I am in.
At least I’m not the only idiot under this roof. Maybe there’s too much iron in the water and it’s making us delusional.
“Yep. Oh, and he wanted to know if my date and I wanted to ride with them.”
I turn to see the pure shock on her face, and she drops to my sad, pathetic bed. I’m paying him for my damn car. Definitely paying him.
“I so did not see that coming. And what date do you have? I thought he was your date for the night.”
So did I.
“Ash offered to set me up with someone at their party tonight. I told her no. He told Tag yes when he offered to set him up. I can’t believe I was such an idiot.”
I shouldn’t cry. It’d be pathetic, and dramatic, and... embarrassing to cry over a guy that I was merely friends with. Fortunately, no tears come out, though I’m really not surprised. I stopped crying when I was a kid.
Rye can kiss my ass. I’m done being his friend.
“Call Ash and tell her to make the date happen,” Maggie says, bringing me back to the hell I’m in.
I look at her like she’s lost her mind, and then I drop to the bed beside her.
“I don’t want to go over there. I don’t want a date. And I sure as hell don’t want to see him on a date. I didn’t want to like him. In fact, I wanted to hate him. But he’s so frigging sweet, funny, smart, and comfortable. I slept like a rock last night, and I honestly thought I’d sleep even harder tonight—if you know what I mean.”
She snickers quietly while reaching over and grabbing my phone. “Set the date up. If you don’t, it’ll make you look bad. You’re too amazing to look like you’re pining over him. Go have fun. Or at least look like you’re having fun. Otherwise he’ll ask questions you don’t want to answer.”
Why did I ever let myself go to this place? I would be fine right now had I kept my mind in the friend-zone.
Maggie is right. I’ll look pathetic if I stay here after that. I guess I’ll have to text Ash.
***
RYE
“You came,” Tag says with a frown.
What the hell?
“Yeah, and I picked up Leah. You’re right; she knows all her shit about cars. She went to grab us some drinks.”
Please don’t ask me what color her dress is.
I know she has red hair, a slim body, and a vast amount of knowledge about anything with wheels, but I can’t seem to remember what color dress she has on.
His frown only deepens, and his eyes trail over to the back gate to his patio as it opens. In walks the girl who pissed me off, and she doesn’t have anyone with her. What dick couldn’t go pick her up?
Wren didn’t go get her either, but it was planned for them to meet here so that neither of them felt compelled to get along. It put them on neutral, easy grounds. This dick Ash has for her isn’t affiliated with our group, so he should have gone to pick her up.
I try not to breathe differently when I see how fucking perfect she looks. The light blue sundress is flowing at the bottom instead of tight like the other girls are wearing. She looks so damn sweet and tempting. I can almost see her blue eyes from here, like they are glistening as she searches the party.
“So you really went and picked up Leah?” Tag asks, his eyes going from me to Brin.
“It sounded like you wanted me to, so I did. Brin’s date here yet? I think she’s looking for him.”
He mutters something about stubbornness and pride, but I have no idea what. Nor do I care.
“So it doesn’t bother you that Brin is here with a date?” Tag asks, fishing hard for something he won’t catch.
It’s driving me crazier by the second, and she hasn’t even met the guy yet. But I refuse to tell him that, because he’ll never let us just be friends. He’ll keep pushing me until I crack, and Brin’s not the kind of girl you have fun with in the bedroom. She’s the kind you marry.
Not me. I don’t want something that serious, and it would have to be that serious with her—monogamy, steady dinners at a set time, cuddling on the couch for hours, and recording our favorite shows. That’s not who I am. It can’t be who I am. Some people just don’t have the luxury of picturing themselves happy.
Some people have seen the real side of the ending instead of the happily-ever-after fable people want to believe.
“Here’s your drink,” Leah says, smiling as she hands me the Corona.
I offer her a brief smile, and make a mental note that she’s wearing a dark red dress in case Tag asks. It’s hot that she knows so much about cars, but it’s also annoying. Though I love talking about cars all day, I prefer to be the one educating. I don’t like feeling like someone thinks they are educating me. It actually pisses me off.
Brin just listens and smiles and asks questions, and that’s what I like—someone who I can teach. This girl is making me dread going to the garage because of how dull it all sounds.
“Brin!” Ash calls cheerily as she makes her way toward her with a guy I’d like to punch.
Maybe she won’t leave with him. Then I can keep my sanity without making a scene.
***
BRIN
I can’t believe I let Maggie talk me into this. It’s so much harder than I thought it was going to be.
Rye’s date is stunningly beautiful, and even though he looked my way for a while, now his eyes are back on her—his perfect date—as he drinks the beer she brought him. He was probably pitying my pathetic attempt to blend in.
What was I thinking by wearing a sundress?
Ash finally makes it to me while pulling the arm of a guy who might as well have douchebag tattooed on his forehead. Great.
“Adam, this is Brin. Brin this is Adam,” Ash introduces, and I try to rein in my temper when I see his expression.
There are numerous things a guy can do that I don’t understand. There are several expressions I can’t decipher. But I know disappointment when I see it.
“Oh,” he says, forcing a smile. “Nice to meet you.”
Liar.
Right now he’s secretly cursing Ash for inviting him here. My shoulder-length hair is light brown, and tonight it’s fixed. My eyes are actually a pretty cool blue most days. It’s like they shift. This is one of the good days, and he’s still not impressed.
Some of my features might be amazing on their own, but all together, they make a girl most guys consider ordinary. I’ve always been completely fine with that until I met Rye.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say quietly, somehow hiding the sigh on the tip of my tongue.
Ash frowns as she looks from me to Rye, but she can’t possibly know anything. I’m doing good at playing fine.
“Sorry about the sundress,” I murmur with a shrug. “I had to get ready quickly.”
Ash starts to say something, but douche boy beats her to it.
“I just found out about this ten minutes ago, and I managed to—”
“So,” Ash interrupts, “Adam, Brin is the assistant to the director at the museum. She’s witty, smart, funny, and completely unpredictable. Brin, Adam is climbing the ladder at Millington Inc. He’s an accountant and... um... new to the area?”
She acts like she knows nothing about him, and she turn
s on her heel to retreat. And what does he mean ten minutes ago? Ash said she had a date for me much earlier than that.
“How long have you been in Sterling Shore?” I ask him as a way of killing the awkward silence.
“Actually, I’ve been here for ten years, so I’m not sure what she meant by that,” he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
I don’t like him. In fact, I can tell what a major turd he is right now. With drop-dead gorgeous girls, guys work hard on a façade that could fool royalty. But with girls like me, they barely even try to mask their real selves.
“Ah, so Ash barely knows you.”
He tilts his head, checking out Ash’s ass as she walks away. What a dick.
“I met her the other day. She met with us about maybe changing accounting firms. I thought she was inviting me here for her,” he says while turning back around to meet my eyes.
Of course he did. This guy is just as average as me, so I’m not sure why the hell he’s acting so above my level. He looks a lot like John, and he’d be in the likely pool of datable prospects I could obtain—if he wasn’t such an arrogant prick.
In his mind, he looks like the Sterling men. At least I’m self-aware. There was once a time I sat around laughing at all the beautiful people. I should have stuck to that instead of befriending them. It makes life hard.
“Ash is married to Tag Masters,” I say quickly, wondering how he doesn’t know that if he was going to be on her account. She must have decided early on that she didn’t want this prick to deal with.
So why did she set me up with him?
His eyes scan the scene and widen when they land on the beautiful man who is pulling Ash close for a showy, steamy kiss that almost makes my toes curl. Damn.
Rye is laughing with his date as she giggles beside him. Perfect—she even laughs pretty. My brief window of fantasy seals itself shut right in front of my eyes.
Her immaculately manicured nails are painted hot pink, and I glance down to my short, sad, plain nails. Her long, vibrant, red hair is a sharp contrast to my shorter, duller locks. I should have gotten a different color when I went to get the blue covered up.
Stop. I need to stop. I’m me. That’s never bothered me before, and I refuse to let it bother me now just because I had a crush on a jerk that I thought liked me.
