Regret (Under My Skin Book 1)

by Christina Lee

  “No foster dog with an absurd name this time?” he asked. When I shook my head he almost seemed disappointed. I bit back a smile because he and Nick would totally agree on Tallulah’s name being a tongue twister. I could almost see them fist-bumping each other. Christ, where had that thought come from?

  “If she’s not adopted by the time my place is ready, I might bring her home with me,” I admitted and it actually felt good to say it out loud.

  “Sounds like a good plan,” he replied as he reached for a soda from the fridge and Mom smiled and patted my hand. It was the most sharing we’d done in a while and I wondered what had brought it on. Maybe Tallulah was a good icebreaker not only for Nick and me, but also for my dad and me as well.

  The idea of Tallulah living with me uncurled in my stomach and filled me with warmth. It might be nice to have a companion to come home to every day.

  As a kid, we were never allowed to have more than a couple of cats, so I was always volunteering to look after the neighbor’s fish and hamsters or feed their cats when they were out of town.

  Dogs were too much responsibility, but exercising them wasn’t, so I started my own community dog walking service in the neighborhood when I was around eleven. I had a good brain for math, so I charged a reasonable price for different provisions and saved my money to buy comic books to add to my compilation.

  After I graduated with an associate’s degree as a veterinary tech and couldn’t find any openings in a local clinic, I continued on in college to get my bachelor of science while I worked odd jobs in restaurants or pet stores.

  I didn’t really know what the hell I wanted to do with my life, especially since once I finally secured a job in an emergency animal hospital, I didn’t actually love it—go figure. It was too serious and sterile of an environment for me, so I began looking elsewhere.

  It wasn’t until I got the job at Doggie Styles about four years ago that I realized I was cut out for a different side of the business. It was still an opportunity to work with animals, but in a different capacity, and I favored dogs most of all. With a steady paycheck, I was able to rent a cool condo in a good neighborhood with the dream of owning a place of my own someday, and it had finally come to fruition last year. I pushed aside the other fantasy of building a life with a special guy to share it with. For now, I was good on my own.

  “You working on anything new?” I asked my dad as he headed back toward the basement stairs and his workshop.

  “Actually, I’ve been clearing out the storage space behind the steps,” he replied. “Hang on a minute.”

  He held up a finger, disappeared down the basement for several long seconds and when I glanced at my mom for help, she shrugged.

  “You still got that box of comics from Ricky?” he asked when he reappeared.

  “Yep. Thankfully they didn’t suffer any water damage. They’re safe in the trunk of my car.” That’s when I noticed what he had in his hand. A Micronauts ’80s edition. “What do you have there?”

  “I found a couple more that must’ve gotten misplaced. I figured you’d like to add them to your collection,” he replied as he awkwardly thrust them toward me.

  “You sure you don’t want to hang on to them since, you know…they belonged to your brother?” His eyes darted away but I saw the same pain in them that I always did.

  “Nah, you keep ’em,” he mumbled, setting the comics down on the table, reaching for the broom near the refrigerator, and then retreating again to the basement.

  I sat there in silence for the longest time simply paging through the vintage comics he’d handed me, wondering why my dad had such a hard time talking about this stuff—any stuff—with me, his firstborn son.

  Around nine years old, I’d heard him spout off in an anguished voice to my mother about Uncle Rick developing AIDS. “Goddamn, if only he wasn’t a faggot. Might’ve had a fighting chance.”

  And then the sorrow in his eyes when he found out I had become the same thing. I was absolutely terrified to tell him the news as a teen, and if it hadn’t been for my mother encouraging me, I might’ve stayed in the closet even longer.

  She must’ve thought it would bring us closer together. But instead, I felt him pull away almost instantly, like I was a hopeless cause—and it made me realize just how Uncle Rick must’ve felt as he lay dying.

  My dad went through all the motions and said the things a dad was supposed to, but it was like he had locked his feelings away for the both of us.

  I was so jealous of my brother—so fucking jealous—that I tried outlandish things to get attention. One time I didn’t come home all night to see if Dad would admit he’d missed me but all it did was get me in more trouble.

  Years later I realized I had developed a pattern—of finding men who were as emotionally unreachable as he was. Daddy issues, Elijah would say.

  “Honey, he loves you.” Mom patted me on the shoulder. She was always in tune to my moods, especially when it came to my father. She had given me way too many pep talks over my lifetime. “He just struggles to show it.”

  “He doesn’t seem to struggle with Robert,” I replied, and then took the final sip of my coffee before sliding the mug on the counter near the sink.

  He was always laughing and talking with my brother. Sure it was about sports stats or how to build this or that, but surely that led to deeper discussions, didn’t it? Like that one time I’d walked in on them discussing girls and Robbie’s cheeks had turned a deep crimson. He acted completely embarrassed to be getting the talk from Dad but I would’ve died for merely one piece of advice. Instead, I turned to my mom or close friends at school. Or the Internet.

  Mom sighed. “I know it seems that way but it’s just been…easier with Robert.”

  A hot flash of anger warmed my cheeks. “Because he’s not gay?”

  “Of course not!” she replied, reaching for my hand. “You know we love you just the way you are and want you to be happy.”

  “Yeah, yeah…I know,” I conceded, though some days I wasn’t so sure.

  “You remind him of Uncle Ricky, you know?” she said, brushing back my curls. “And he never…properly grieved him.”

  “I just can’t buy that excuse anymore, Mom.” I stood up from the table and reached for my phone and keys to head home. “He’s a grown-ass man and so am I.”

  13

  Brin

  When I got home, Elijah was playing Mortal Kombat X on the couch with Stewart—the same couch Nick and I had been sitting on the night before as we tag-teamed killing zombies. Our knees inching closer together as the night wore on, and the air thick with the constant buzzing sensation whenever we were in the same room.

  Fuck, I needed to get him out of my head.

  “How was your day?” Elijah asked above the din of the game’s thematic music.

  “Nothing special,” I replied, hunkering down on the love seat and resting my feet on the coffee table. I’d tell Elijah about the conversation with my dad another time. He was a good friend to bounce stuff off of, and normally we did that at work or when he wasn’t curled up against his boyfriend.

  “So what happened between you and Kam last night?” Stewart asked after he paused the game.

  “Actually, not much,” I replied and then narrowed my eyes at Elijah. “Did you know he was still hung up on his ex?”

  Elijah rolled his eyes. “Ugh, I told him not to talk your ear off about him.”

  I shrugged. “Some people just aren’t ready to move on, you idiot.”

  “I wasn’t asking him to marry you,” Elijah scoffed. “Only have fun and get laid.”

  “Thanks for offering me up,” I deadpanned.

  “You are a self-proclaimed bottom boy,” Stewart said and the statement made my gut tighten, even though it was said in jest. Didn’t mean I’d screw any warm body. Not anymore.

  “I thought that was Elijah,” I replied. Stewart’s head snapped up. Touché.

  Elijah made big eyes at me and as usual, it felt like
I was always saying the wrong thing in front of Stewart. It pissed me off that Elijah put up with it when he was such a vibrant and fun person. If Stewart could joke, why couldn’t anybody else?

  “Yeah?” Stewart asked, his gaze seeking his boyfriend’s. “Hopefully only for me.”

  “Of course, baby,” Elijah cooed and just as I was about to say something I’d probably regret, we heard the key in the door.

  Nick walked in looking hot as all fuck with gray denim jeans, blue kicks, and that broken-in baseball cap. No wonder Elijah didn’t want Stewart to know his roommate swung both ways. When Nick’s gaze snagged on me and a gorgeous smile draped his lips, my stomach flip-flopped like crazy.

  His eyes looked brighter than they had all week. Maybe he had a good day or spending the afternoon in cosmetology class suited him because it was something he enjoyed. It made me wonder what else lit him up from the inside. A flash of him on his knees, his intense and dazzling gaze burning into me sped through my mind and I shook the thought away. Fuck.

  “You guys eat already? I’m starving,” Nick said, sliding out of his sneakers. “Was thinking of ordering a pizza from Angelo’s.”

  “We were thinking the same—Brin?” Elijah asked with pleading eyes. He probably assumed I was going to refuse again and retreat to my room.

  And maybe I would’ve. But now that Nick had sucked me off and I had let it happen, I felt under the microscope. No way I’d ever let our little encounter slip to Elijah because I’d hear about it until the end of time. Besides, what in the hell would he think?

  It was only sex, right? With somebody who’d sent my emotions on a roller coaster ride. Maybe in time, the way he affected me would finally diminish and I wouldn’t have this constant tether to him that felt almost visceral. But for now, I knew better than to make the same mistake twice.

  “Yeah, sure.” Elijah and I had never really hung together like this—we’d always gone out after work or met at the movies—so this was nice in its own way. Having a roommate did have its perks.

  As Nick pulled out his cell and ordered the food, I wondered why I was torturing myself like this. I definitely could’ve just called it a night, except at this point I’d look anti-social and I was already skating on thin ice with my best friend.

  “We still on for your mom’s lasagna tomorrow?” Elijah asked, as soon as Nick was off the phone.

  “She just called on my way home,” Nick replied, sitting down next to me. “She’s excited about it.”

  “I hate that I always have to work,” Stewart remarked, but I could barely pay attention because I could feel the heat from Nick’s thigh resting so close to mine and it was causing the hairs on my arm to stand on end. “You’ll save me some leftovers?”

  “Of course,” Elijah answered in that sticky sweet voice he reserved only for his boyfriend. Next thing we knew Elijah was practically in Stewart’s lap as their lips locked in a heated, slobbery kiss.

  My eyes briefly met Nick’s in a sidelong glance. He made bug eyes at me and I had to look away before I snickered out loud. But the next time I glanced back, he was staring at me with an adorable smirk on his face—like we were in on the same secret. Fucker.

  Stop, I mouthed to him, my fingers darting out to nudge his arm. He caught my hand right up against his hip and my heart pounded painfully in my throat. With a little wiggle room I joined my thumb and forefinger together in an attempt to pinch his side but he quickly let go. When Elijah and Stewart came up for air, we both schooled our expressions.

  We were acting like a couple of second-graders with crushes. Christ. What the fuck was wrong with me? I needed to set some parameters around any more touching between us, but fuck if I didn’t also need his hands on me again at the same time.

  “So what about you, Brin?” Elijah asked, while the two of them nuzzled each other. “Coming tomorrow?”

  “Um,” I stammered, twisting my fingers in my lap. “I’m going to pick up Tallulah and spend some time with her in the park, so…”

  “She still hasn’t been adopted?” Nick asked, with an undertone of disappointment in his voice.

  “Nope,” I replied. “But I’m uh…actually considering it. When I finally get my place back.”

  “Yeah?” Elijah asked, his eyebrows drawn together. “What a big-boy, responsible thing to do.”

  “Cut it out,” I replied, my cheeks heating up. “She’s lost her owner and I feel terrible about that.”

  I could feel Nick’s gaze on me. “You can always bring her to the apartment to hang out. I’m cool with it. Really.”

  I inhaled roughly through my nose. He made it hard to hate him when he was so appeasing.

  “Look at you getting all soft,” Elijah said with a wink.

  “I have my moments,” he replied and stole a glance my way.

  The rest of the night, we ate pizza and watched the newest X-Men movie, though I could barely tell you what it was about. Elijah lay down on the couch, resting his head on Stewart’s lap. “Ugh,” he said, gripping his stomach. “I think I ate too many slices of pepperoni.” Stewart ran his hand up and down Elijah’s back trying to soothe him as they got lost in the ending fight scene. Barf.

  “So why would your mom want me at your house tomorrow anyway?” I mumbled in Nick’s direction. “Does she think we’re friends?”

  He shrugged. “She actually remembered you tutored me at Jefferson High.”

  “Yeah?” I couldn’t help the edge in my voice. “Does she know I quit and never talked to you again?”

  “No, of course not,” he muttered, trying not to draw Elijah’s attention. “Brin—”

  But I ignored him, already lost in the memory.

  I was down on my knees, my cheeks hollowed, sucking Nicholas Dell’s cock in earnest when the door to the locker room banged open. I froze but he sprang into action. He pushed me backward by my shoulders, forcing me off of him.

  I ended up on my ass.

  “Somebody’s coming,” he growled in my direction.

  He reached down for the towel and tied it sloppily around his waist just as another player was rounding the corner. Luckily, by then I had gotten to my feet.

  “What the fuck is he doing here?” Smith asked. He was a tall loudmouth outfielder who had never been cool to me. Jackass.

  “Dunno,” Nicholas replied in a shaky voice. “I was in the shower.”

  Christ, he could’ve said anything else as an excuse. I was tutoring him, after all.

  Smith’s gaze darted around the room, as if dreaming up some scenario.

  “What are you, a fucking faggot? You spying on him?” he said to me. “Or trying to cop a feel?”

  “Screw you.” I tried to move past him but he cornered me against the locker.

  My pulse was battering in my veins. I’d been in these situations before but this time really burned. I could barely inhale a decent breath, I was so pissed that Nicholas hadn’t even defended me. Not one fucking word. What a goddamn dickhead.

  He kept his head down as he slipped his shirt over his shoulders.

  The shame burned deep in my gut for trusting Nicholas Dell to begin with. My heart felt too tight, too uncomfortably large, like it would burst out of my chest at any given moment.

  The bony part of Smith’s elbow connected with my waist and he jammed me in the gut. I doubled over in pain but that was manageable compared to the raw ache in my chest and throat from what Nicholas had done. Or didn’t do. “Better not catch you in here again.”

  He stepped aside to let me pass and I stumbled my way out of the room, vowing to never look in Nicholas Dell’s direction again.

  By tomorrow, the whole school would know that I’d been in the locker room by myself while Nicholas Dell was taking a shower. Nothing I said or did would ever change the rumored speculation. My only saving grace was that only two months of school remained.

  “Brin,” Nick said again in a tight voice. When his leg brushed up against mine, I was roused from my thoughts. His eyes were p
leading and filled with sorrow.

  But nothing would erase the tight, cloaking feeling in my chest. It made me want to hurt him as much as he hurt me. Having him down on his knees only satisfied part of my wounded ego.

  I sprang from the couch, angry with myself for letting him get the best of me again. “Going to bed.”

  14

  Nick

  When I opened my eyes it was nearly noon. That was what I got for staying up thinking half the night. I’d heard Brin leave the apartment a couple of hours ago and I had to wonder if he was feeling as restless as I was.

  Except for entirely different reasons. I was on edge because I wanted to hash it all through with him. And then take him in my mouth again. Make him feel good. Make him understand.

  Make up for everything I’d done.

  I was a chickenshit. A goddamn chickenshit.

  Maybe that was why Brin tried to avoid me at any turn.

  Every single day I noticed how Brian Schubert would make quick time at his locker in order to avoid the glut at the corner of the hall where my teammates and I gathered between classes. Each time he passed, they’d tease him relentlessly.

  “Leave him the hell alone already,” I growled at Smith.

  “Aw, you miss your tutor that much?” Smith would retort, making kissing noises.

  “Screw you,” I pushed past him. “You’re only making his life difficult for your own amusement.”

  I tried to catch up with Brian after school or in empty stairwells. To explain, apologize, but he wouldn’t let me. He constantly wore his earbuds to tune me and everyone else out. So my words always fell on deaf ears.

  Only once did I place my hand on his arm to stop him from walking away but the look he gave me was one of such hatred, I released my grip immediately.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  And then he was gone.

  After graduation, I never saw him again.

  Panic swelled inside me and I sat up to take some deep breaths and calm my racing pulse. Pushing off the sheets, I rolled out of bed and trod to the kitchen to make coffee. When I didn’t hear Elijah or Stewart stir, I considered turning on some soothing music and taking a long, hot bath. I normally only did so when I was home alone, simply so Elijah wouldn’t razz me about it. But between Brin and Stewart being around the apartment this month, it was probably best to steer clear.