by C. Morgan
Maybe I need to read up on men’s brain chemistry while they’re involved in a fight sometime. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how a quiet night with some beer and a platter of wings to share before our burgers came had devolved into this. They’re nuts. They’re all nuts.
While I knew nuts wasn’t a technical term the psychiatry industry believed in using, it was the only one I knew to describe what was going on around me. Tables were being overturned as guys stumbled over them or crashed into them, chairs went flying, and the other innocent patrons of the Clubhouse were just trying their best to stay out of the way.
Which was what Hadley wasn’t trying to do as she grabbed my hand and pulled me along the wall to the other side of the bar. The noise was even more intense here, and I could barely hear myself think between the grunts, groans, and yelled curses.
A cacophony of masculinity? I snorted, grateful that no one had heard that thought. This is ridiculous.
Meanwhile, my friend had let go of my hand and was now waving her arms in the air, trying to get her boyfriend’s attention. There was going to be hell to pay for him later but for now, she didn’t seem angry. She just seemed scared.
Not that I blamed her. If someone I loved had been stuck in that, I’d have been terrified too. All the more reason not to fall in love in college.
When I eventually did fall in love, I hoped it would be with a guy who stayed away from fights as much as I wanted to get away from this one. With that thought in mind, I tried to plot a way out of the bar that wouldn’t involve us potentially ending up in the middle of the flying fists.
If we stick to the wall again, we could— My train of thought was derailed when a body came flying past us and slammed into a table just a few feet away.
I blinked, letting out a squeak I wasn’t proud of as I jumped to the side to avoid getting hit. My hands were already well on their way to my head to protect my brain when I realized no one was about to take a swing at me.
The guy who had practically bounced off the table was Brysen, and he smirked at me as he wiped a few drops of blood off his lip with the back of his hand. A sudden, completely inexplicable and unwelcome feeling of intrigue and excitement rippled through me when I met his dark green eyes.
No, Ruby. No. This is not the guy to feel these kinds of things about.
It didn’t matter how much I chastised myself about it, though. While it was true that I despised everything that was Brysen Burke, the way he looked at me… It got to me. It made me feel those things whether I wanted to or not.
A horde of butterflies erupted in my stomach as he kept his arrogant gaze locked with mine. It was probably only for a few seconds but during that time, it was like the world around us faded. The noise of the fight disappeared and all my thoughts about escaping fled my mind.
In those few seconds, there was only us. Only me and this boy who was Trouble with a capital T. The one I knew I should stay away from just like I always did when it came to any kind of potential trouble.
But somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to break off this strange staring contest we had going on. There was something in the depths of those green eyes when he looked at me that made it different to the way everyone else looked at me.
Under his gaze, I felt naked. Exposed. Like he could see my past, present, and future in my eyes. My hopes and dreams. My fears and weaknesses.
A guy my age shouldn’t have been able to make anyone feel like that, but Brysen sure did it to me. Like a freaking pro.
As I watched, still transfixed by this awful yet awe-inspiring, possibly evil yet enigmatic man who didn’t seem like a boy at all in that moment, he pushed a lock of his black hair off his forehead and started walking. Coming straight toward me.
I couldn’t move as he swaggered up to where I was standing, wrapped a strong, warm arm around my lower back, and kissed me. Without any warning. He simply tugged me closer until I fell into his chest and then his head descended and his mouth sealed over mine as firmly as if he’d done it a hundred times before.
When his lips touched mine, my brain seized. Or something like that must’ve happened, because I didn’t push him away.
If anything, I leaned into him. Into his heat. Into his leather-and-fresh-sweat scent. Into his powerful arms that had literally been swinging and doling out punches just a minute ago.
It was insanity to be kissing him. Maybe it’s my own brain chemistry I should be worrying about instead of the boys’.
The thought prompted me to put my hand up against his chest, but I still didn’t push him away. If I was being completely honest with myself, it was because I didn’t really want him to stop. As much as I knew that it was a huge mistake, I wanted to keep kissing him.
Partially because this was a new experience for me. Not being kissed, but being kissed like this. It wasn’t the soft or even the passionate meeting of lips I’d come to think of as kisses. There was a power in this kiss I couldn’t describe. A pure, raw energy that seemed to pulse out of him and it was so potent, it took over the very rhythm of my heartbeat.
Over and over again, our mouths clashed together until a moan escaped from me. He stopped for just long enough that I felt his lips curving into a grin against my own before he was back, deepening the kiss and turning me into a spineless, brainless, boneless being who suddenly couldn’t think about anything other than this. Other than the man devouring me like I was his last shot at redemption.
All my worries faded into the background as the moment consumed me. And it was only a moment.
The craziest one of my life, but a moment nonetheless. And when it was over, my skin was on fire and the taste of beer and musk lingered on my tongue.
Brysen held me close for another split second. He winked—actually fucking winked—when his gaze met mine. “You taste like hot sauce. I like it.”
Without another word, he let go of me and jumped right back into the fight like he was completely unaffected by what had just happened. Meanwhile, I was left feeling like someone had dumped a bucket of ice over my head at the same time that they ripped a thick, comfortable rug out from under my feet.
“I need to get out of here,” I murmured to myself.
Hadley was still bouncing up and down next to me, waving her hand and yelling her boyfriend’s name. Whatever had just happened to me had felt like it’d taken an age but in reality, it was over so fast that no one around me had even really noticed.
Talk about life slowing down for a minute.
Like everyone else, I’d watched those superhero movies when the hero had the ability to slow down time. It felt like that had happened to me, except that Brysen definitely wasn’t the hero of anyone’s story—least of all mine.
As I glanced at Hadley one last time, I knew there was no way she was leaving without Daxton. But I wasn’t staying for one more minute.
“I’ll see you back at the dorm,” I called as the noise around me rushed back in after my strange experience.
She nodded, but she’d also finally caught her boyfriend’s attention and didn’t seem to want to break eye contact when she was so clearly silently demanding that he got his ass back to her side. Sighing as I resigned myself to fleeing alone, I got the hell out of dodge and wondered what on earth that had been about.
And why I’d liked it so much.
Chapter 8
BRYSEN
It was only the first day of classes for the semester and I was already in the Dean’s office, getting a lecture about the fight. The more things change, the more they stay the same… A new semester doesn’t have to mean a new beginning after all.
The only good thing that had changed was that there had eventually been so many students involved that they couldn’t single anyone out. Including me.
My head was pounding. It was all I could do to keep sitting in the uncomfortable chair in his office with my hands calmly by my sides instead of clutching my poor skull. I’d whacked it pretty fucking good against the bar last night, and I
couldn’t remember everything that’d happened after that.
It wasn’t a good sign, but I’d live. If the Dean didn’t bore me to death with this fucking speech of his, that was.
Dean Solomon was as bald as a cue ball with jowls that jiggled while he spoke and a perpetually red face. At least, it was always red when he was looking at me but maybe that didn’t mean it was always red.
He had fat, stubbly fingers, one of which was currently pointed at me as he sat behind his impressive desk. Honestly, it was the only impressive thing about him. I think I know what he’s trying to overcompensate for.
Thankfully, that wasn’t a problem I had. What was a problem for me was that I felt like his voice had tiny drills in it and that with every word he said, more of them got lodged right in the middle of my aching head.
“It’s unacceptable behavior, Mr. Burke,” he was saying when I sort of tuned back in. “The only reason you’re not getting expelled this time is because we can’t be sure who the main culprits are.”
I chuckled, not even trying to hold the sound back. “Well, it’s that, but it’s also because my Dad pays for everything this damn school happens to need whenever you’re in a pinch. We might as well be honest about it.”
Solomon narrowed his mud-brown eyes at me. “With an attitude like yours, it’s no wonder you’re my most frequent flier in here. If I was you, I’d be taking a good look at myself, son. You’re not going to get far if you don’t get your head on straight.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I said, my tone thick with sarcasm.
He either didn’t hear it or he just chose to ignore it. Slamming shut the thick folder he’d already compiled on me in the few months since I’d started here, he pulled his round glasses from the bridge of his nose and sighed.
“I’ll be getting in touch with your father this afternoon,” he said as he heaved himself out of his chair. “You’d better get to class before you miss any more of your first day. A word to the wise, Mr. Burke, you will regret every opportunity you do not take and you’re letting most of them pass you by.”
While he spoke, he crossed the carpeted floor of his office and swung open the door when he was done dispensing his bullshit advice. He motioned out towards the hallway, and I focused on getting to it without flinching when my headache upped its game with every move I made.
Jesus. That hurts.
But it’d been worth it.
After I left Solomon’s office and for the rest of the day, I was stared at by students who’d obviously heard about the fight. Even if they didn’t know who I was—although I was pretty sure most of them did—it was obvious that I’d been part of the brawl at the Clubhouse. The black eye and swollen lip I was sporting gave me away.
A lot of people in my position might’ve flipped them off or told them to stop fucking staring, but I didn’t. Mostly because I liked the staring. Craved it, even.
Especially when the staring in question was being done by girls. I liked the way they looked at me in the aftermath of a big fight. Like I was someone.
If only that someone wasn’t Tommy Burke’s kid, I thought, and just like that, my mood crashed into the dumps. Clenching my fists as I strode down the corridor without stopping for anyone or bothering to sidestep if they were in my way, I headed for class. More than a few times, I connected with someone’s shoulder, bag, or hip, but none of them called me out on it.
They wouldn’t. Because they were too scared. Scared of me because of my reputation, sure, but more scared of my father. Or rather, the legend of my father.
Now that my thoughts had turned to him and latched on, I was feeling sour as fuck and really not in the mood for class. There was nothing that I wanted more than a stiff drink or a strong joint. Possibly both. Maybe one of them would even help my fucking head, but as tiny bombs kept going off in my skull, I realized there was nothing that would take away this pain.
Except for a lobotomy, maybe.
Oh, yeah. Dad would fucking love it if I woke up with a different personality. While even I knew that lobotomies had mostly ended up leaving the patient worse off, I was about ninety percent sure that Tommy would think any change in my case was bound to be an improvement.
No matter where I tried to redirect my thoughts to, I kept ending up back on my dad. I knew it was because I’d be hearing from him later thanks to that call the Dean was going to put in. I didn’t even care about the verbal pineapple he was going to try to shove up my asshole without any lube. All I kept thinking about was who I might’ve been if I hadn’t been conceived from the sperm of Tommy Burke and in the womb of Alison Burke.
Eventually, by the time I got to my lecture venue, I was outright sulking. On the upside, with my entire demeanor screaming fuck off even louder than usual, no one tried to approach me and no one sat down next to me.
My professor launched into whatever lecture he was giving today, but I took one of the sheets people were passing around and zoned out again. Hopefully, the paper would at least remind me that I’d actually been present in this class. I’d already forgotten what subject it was.
With my mind still on the question of who I might’ve been if I’d been born into a different family, I felt the familiar guilt and shame creeping up on me. I wasn’t one to feel those things often but whenever my brain took me down this path, I couldn’t help it.
And yet I couldn’t help going down this path from time to time either. Because I had to wonder if it was nature or nurture that’d fucked me. Something had, and I was curious to know if I would’ve been the same way if I’d grown up with present, loving parents in a small house somewhere and a job I’d had to start working at sixteen. Honestly, I didn’t know.
I’d have liked to have been able to blame everything on the less than child-friendly ways of Mr. and Mrs. Burke. But I really didn’t know if I could.
I was a screw up. Always had been, always would be. It was as simple as that. Despite having had every advantage in the world to get the whole life thing right, I still managed to fuck it up at every turn.
It was possible that Emily would have it even harder when she got a little older. With only two years of high school left, she wouldn’t be able to hide who she was for much longer. Eventually, our parents would find out the truth and then what?
Are they going to ship her off to some private boarding school in Europe, far away from Jess and from me, the lesbian lover and the evil big brother? Just imagining being separated from her by an ocean and possibly a few mountain ranges was enough to make my head feel like it was going to explode.
Shit. I can’t let that happen. And yet, it wasn’t like I’d have much of a choice in the matter if the time ever came. Hell, at this point, I didn’t even know if they’d let her say goodbye to me before they shipped her off.
My mood plummeted even further, and it stayed that way into the afternoon. No matter which way I sliced it, Emily was the only good thing in my life. The only good thing about being a Burke. If I lost her… fuck. I couldn’t even think about it.
A surge of students getting to their feet around me clued me into the fact that our lecture had ended. I followed them out, but I was still stuck in a cage in my head until I walked into something small and soft.
Books scattered all the over the place and loose pages of color-coded notes went flying. I rubbed the spot on my chest where I was pretty sure her head had hit, then felt my lips curving into a grin when I met a pair of furious, light green eyes.
“Watch yourself, Brysen,” Ruby snapped, glaring at me for another second before dropping to her haunches to pick up her stuff.
“Hey,” I protested. “You walked into me. How about an ‘I’m sorry, Bry. I was so distracted by your insanely good looks that I couldn’t stop staring until I crashed into you’?”
Rolling her eyes from her position at my feet, she kept scrambling to gather her notes before they got trampled. “Keep dreaming, Burke. That’s not what happened.”
I cocked my head at her, catapu
lted straight back to how much fun I’d had riling her up before the fight last night. “You know, I think I like you on your knees in front of me. How about we move this to my room and you can show me how sorry you are for bruising my chest with that big head of yours.”
“I didn’t touch you,” she said defensively. “Your chest met the corner of this.”
She held up a massive textbook which, in all honesty, explained the dull pain in my chest a lot better than if it’d been her head. Since I’d never let a little honesty get in the way of a good time, I ignored the comment and trapped some of her notes under my shoe when she went for them.
She tried to pull them free, but I shifted my weight to pin them down properly. The only way she was getting them out without tearing the pages was if I moved.
When she realized it, she glanced up at me with aggravation written all over her face. “Really? I need those, you big lug.”
“Lug?” I repeated incredulously. “That’s not a very nice way to ask someone for something you want, now is it? What are you willing to do for those, huh? Maybe we can work something out.”
“Don’t pretend like you know the nice way to ask for things,” she said.
Without thinking what I was doing, I accidentally shifted my weight again and before I could make sure I still had her notes covered, she managed to yank all but one of the sheets of paper out and shot to her feet.
“Fuck off, Brysen. Just leave me alone and watch where you’re going next time.” Whirling around, she marched away from me and didn’t look back.
As I watched her go, I realized for the first time that she was wearing one of those doctor’s outfits. What are they called? Scrubs?
Yep. That was right. Scrubs. Weird.
Her blonde hair was pulled up into a ponytail on top of her head, and the color of it matched the scrubs. I had to give it to her. Regardless of how weird it was to be parading around in those in freshmen year of college, her ass looked good in them.
