by Loren, Celia
"We're engaged!" she says joyfully.
I'm surprised by the tightness that immediately grips my chest. The crowd bursts into applause and I paste a smile on my face as my mind begins to whirl. It's not like I didn't see this coming, my mom practically told me last week. It's just different to hear the words. My mom's first marriage blew up so spectacularly and publicly…I wonder if my dad knows. Ugh, why am I even thinking about him? He's made it clear that he doesn't care what happens to any of us.
"Bree, Jack, why don't you two join us?" my mom asks from the stage. I glance up at Jack, who gestures for me to go first. The crowd parts and I pick up the front of my dress as I walk up the few steps onto the stage. Jack takes the mic from my mom and raises it to his lips.
"Let me be the first to say congratulations," he says, his perfect face lit glowingly by the surrounding white lights. "I'm so excited to have you and Bree joining the family."
What the fuck…I think as I smile, pulling back slightly so that Jack knows not to hand the mic to me. I'm a terrible public speaker. Is this the same guy who was just propositioning me a moment ago, now welcoming me to his family? That's just all kinds of weird. Mercifully, he understands my body language, and puts the mic back in its stand. The band picks up a playful tempo and I make eye contact with my mom. There's a happy but pleading expression on her face, and I know why.
I walk over to her and wrap her up in a hug. "I'm so happy for you," I whisper, knowing that's what she wants to hear. And it's true. I am happy for her. If she's happy, I'm happy.
We step down off the stage and are quickly engulfed by the party guests. All the talking and greeting I've been able to avoid all night happens all at once, and I'm swallowed up into the crowd. I pass from conversation to conversation until I'm in a daze. I'll never remember all these names, and the fact that the men are all wearing nearly identical tuxes doesn't help anything.
I finally end up near the dock and make a break for it, hurrying down the stone steps to the wooden planks that reach out to Ray's sailboat. I pull my heels off my aching feet, and walk down toward the water barefoot. I hear the waves lapping against the wood and the gleaming white hull of the boat as I pass it on my right. I'm only a few feet away from the end when I hear a voice behind me.
"Tired of all the cocktail chatter?" Jack asks from the last stone step.
"I'm no good at all that stuff," I call over my shoulder. I just wanted a moment alone. How did he even find me? I hear him laugh softly, which I take as a validation that what I said was true. "How much longer will it go?"
"Oh, a couple hours at least. No one leaves an open bar too early," he says, his feet echoing softly on the wood as he walks toward me.
"Well, I guess that decides it," I say, as he comes to stand next to me.
"What?"
"You know, your little…idea on the dance floor. You're going to be my stepbrother now."
"And?"
"Oh, come on."
"There's nothing wrong with it. We're not related. The only problem that I could see is if one of us got attached. It would make seeing each other around the house rather awkward."
"I wouldn't get attached," I say indignantly.
"Me neither. Then it's settled."
"That's not what I meant!" I say, spinning to face him. Without my heels on, my head doesn't even make it past his barrel chest.
"So what's the problem?" he asks, his voice low and throaty as he leans over me. "You don't strike me as a prude."
"I'm just not attracted to you."
"Liar."
"You're very arrogant, you know that?" I hiss.
"Yes," he says simply. "And you're very stubborn, you know that?" he challenges me. Before I have a chance to respond, his arms are around my waist, picking me up and pulling me up and against his body. I'm startled for a moment, but then find my arms winding around his thick neck as his mouth covers mine.
My body surges with warmth as our lips touch. He kisses me hard, one hand moving behind my head to hold me in place as he easily supports me with one arm. Our tongues search for each other's mouth at exactly the same time, and I'm filled with a desperate ache that I've never known before.
Suddenly, he pulls his face away and drops me back on the dock. I open my eyes and look up at him in shock.
"You just let me know when you want to keep going," he murmurs, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. I'm too outraged to say anything as he turns on his heel and walks back toward the party.
Son of a bitch, I think as I grind my teeth. He's got me right where he wants me.
Chapter Seven
"You hungover or something? Steal some champagne last night?" Silvio asks through the window, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Huh?" He looks down at the BLT that's sitting between us. "Oh, right." I pick up the plate and hustle over to Table 4, wondering how long the sandwich had been sitting there.
"Well?" he asks as I return to my spot behind the counter.
"Just tired," I reply. Which is true…I'm exhausted. I kept waking up sweating from dreams of Jack's hands all over me, and as soon as I'd fall asleep, another one would wake me up again. "Why didn't you guys go?"
"Not really our kind of party," Silvio answers.
"They let Stratton go?" Andrè asks, appearing at the window next to his brother.
"Yeah…wait, what do you mean? Why wouldn't they?" I frown, turning toward him with my arms crossed over my chest.
"Those pictures," Silvio says, letting out a low whistle while he and Andrè glance at each other, shaking their heads.
"What pictures?"
"You didn't see? Came out yesterday afternoon. I figured he'd be on lockdown," Silvio says.
"Photos of Jack in a bar, doing body shots off a topless girl while another one's got his jersey on," Andrè fills me in.
"No way," I say incredulously. "Seriously? Wearing his jersey?"
"I'm telling you," Andrè says. "And you said he was supposed to be taking it easy, so I thought for sure he wasn't even allowed to go out now."
"Well, the party was at our house," I reply, chewing my lip. "And these pictures came out yesterday afternoon?"
"Yeah, he's gotta be on his best behavior now," Silvio says, though he clearly enjoys the thought of Jack's antics.
I grab the water pitcher to refill a table's glasses as I feel steam rise from my ears. Jack's proposal last night wasn't about me at all…he just needs a girl, any girl, close to home because he can't go out anymore. Ugh, what a man-whore.
By the time we close up, the sun's been down for well over an hour. I hurry home, anger fueled-adrenaline coursing through my veins. I need to work it off. In my bedroom, I pull on a pair of shorts, a sports bra, a t-shirt, and my old sneakers. I wrap the belt that Carter gave me around my waist, like I promised him I always would, and pull my t-shirt over it. I hustle down to the kitchen, take a quick sip of water so that I don't get dehydrated, and side-step Jack as he emerges from his workout in the basement gym.
"Where are you going?" he asks as I walk quickly toward the front door.
"A run!" I call back without stopping.
"It's dark out!" he protests, walking after me down the marble hallway.
"I have a knife!" I reply, pausing to turn around and reveal the sheath strapped to the belt that Carter gave me.
"What the fuck, Bree!?" Jack exclaims as I shut the front door behind me. I roll my eyes as I hear the front door open and his footsteps following me as I begin to jog. "What the hell are you doing with that thing?"
"Carter gave it to me so I could protect myself," I explain. "He showed me how to use it, obviously."
"What if—"
"Jack. This is a gated community. I think I'll be fine." I frown as he continues to run next to me, and pick up my pace.
"You seriously trying to lose me? I'm a professional athlete." I stare straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him. "You do have some pretty good speed, though."
"Yeah, well, I'm the daughter of a professio
nal athlete," I growl.
"You ever think of going into sports?"
"Absolutely not," I reply as my legs pump on the cement beneath us. "I don't like what that scene does to people. I run for myself, and that's it."
"Not even high school sports?"
"No," I respond flatly.
"What's up with you? You seem even grumpier than usual," he notes lightly.
"It's nothing." I can't tell him what I'm upset about. I don't want him to know that he can have that effect on me.
"Did you know they were going to get engaged?" he asks. He thinks I'm upset about the engagement…fine, let him think that.
"I had a pretty good idea," I reply. "You?"
"Same. Alexa's going to be shocked, though."
"What's the deal with her? People just keep telling me she's in Europe…what does that even mean?"
Jack laughs. "It means no one really knows what she's doing, least of all her."
"And that drives your dad crazy."
"Oh, yeah. She's great, though. You'll like her. Everyone does."
"She coming home soon?"
"Maybe," he says with a shrug. "She dropped out of college, followed this guy over there, but her relationships don't tend to last long."
"So you two are alike in some ways."
"Well, Lex tends to romanticize everything. She thinks her life's a cross between The Great Gatsby and Emma." I glance over at him in surprise, not expecting to hear those references from him. "What? I was a Lit major at the University of Michigan."
"Not just a pretty face, huh?"
"Aw, shucks, you think I'm pretty?" he asks, pushing my playfully.
"Quit it!" I scold him. The feeling of his skin on mine is too distracting.
"You are in a bad mood," he says. "Upset we didn't finish that kiss?"
"Probably not as upset as you," I retort. "I hear I'm your only option."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I shrug. "Oh, you heard about those pictures yesterday. Look, a man like me is never really out of options…and I know you're going to tell me I'm arrogant for saying something like that, but it's the truth. Is that what's eating you? You think I only asked you because I couldn't get anyone else in bed?"
"Well?" I ask, keeping my eyes trained on the dark road ahead of us, lit only by the security lights by the mansions on either side.
"I think you're beautiful and interesting," he says simply. "But yeah, it doesn't hurt that you're someone who's not going to sell a story to the press, or my underwear online."
"You're honest, I'll give you that."
"I see how Lex gets torn up by these guys promising her the stars and the moon, and then ditching her when they're done. At least I'm straightforward about not looking for any attachment. I don't want anyone getting hurt. Has to be two consenting adults with all the information out there. Speaking of…how old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"What?!" he yelps stopping in his tracks. I laugh as I keep running.
"Oh man, I got you!"
"Not funny!" he says, starting up again.
"Eighteen," I tell him as he catches up to me.
"And you're clean?"
"Jack!" I protest. God, it's not like I expect him to hand me red roses or something but that's a bit much.
"Hey, it's a fair question."
"Yes, OK?" It's not a lie, really…I mean, I am clean. It's more of a lie of omission than a real lie.
"Gets so humid out at night when it doesn't rain," he remarks, then quickly whips off his shirt.
"Jack, seriously?" I groan, stealing a quick glance at his bare chest in spite of myself.
"Not bad, though, right?" he smiles, spreading his arms out to give me a show. "Just giving you something to think about. And it's only fair…you showed me yours."
"I did not 'show you' mine! You snuck in and saw me."
"Hey, no sneaking involved. I honestly didn't think you were in there."
"I know," I reply more softly. I do my best not to glance sidelong at his torso, but it's covered in sweat, and I can see each muscle twisting across his stomach with every footfall.
"What about your brother? When's he coming back?"
"I think around October. He can't tell us the exact date, even if he knows."
"And he gave you that knife? Sounds a little overprotective." A laugh bursts out of my mouth, and I try quickly to stifle it. "What?" he asks, sounding a little insulted.
"Sorry, I just…I just realized how much he would dislike you," I admit, beginning to laugh again.
"Hey!"
"I mean, if he knew you were propositioning me! But, well, also because you're wealthy and probably never had to have a job."
"I have a job," he replies indignantly.
"I said had to have a job." He falls into silence for a bit, and I worry I've hurt him. Sometimes it just seems like his ego is so big, that would be impossible. But that's no excuse for me to be mean. I open my mouth to apologize.
"What would you do? If you didn't have to work in the diner," he asks before I can say anything.
"I want to get an MFA in writing," I whisper. It's my wish that I can barely allow myself to know that I want.
"My dad could probably—"
"No," I interrupt him. "Driscolls don't depend on anyone. It's practically our family motto. I'll earn the money myself."
"How long will that take?"
"A while," I respond, feeling a lump in my throat at the thought. Well, at least I don't have to worry about rent.
"Should we turn back?" he asks.
"You tired?"
"No. You?"
"No."
"Then let's keep going."
Chapter Eight
I tap my pencil against my nose as I stare out at the ocean, my damp hair leaving a dripping trail down my back. When I got back from my run with Jack, which turned into a much longer one than I had planned, he left me at foot of the stairs with these words: "My door is always open."
I turned them over and over in my mind while I showered, and now I can't stop thinking about him. I wish I'd made a good girlfriend at school so I could have someone to talk to about this. I always had my mom, my brother, and Andrè and Silvio, but I can't talk to any of them about this situation for obvious reasons. I smile, thinking of how torn the brothers' allegiance would be…their hero athlete trying to score with their little Bree.
I'm surprised to find that I keep coming back to one central question: why not sleep with him? He said he could make me feel beautiful, and something about how he looked at me made me believe him. I'd never consider him as relationship material, but that's a plus, since he's said he's not interested in relationships.
He'd have to wear a condom, that's a given. I'm clean, but I'm not on the pill, and he didn't say anything about being exclusive. I wrinkle my nose…would I be OK with him sleeping with other women while he's sleeping with me? For that matter, what if I want to sleep with someone else? OK, that option is less likely, but still. I suppose I'll have to be alright with it.
And really, he's probably a good person to learn about sex from. I mean, the idea of me being some well-trained sexual badass…that sounds fucking cool. If I knew I could drive Miles wild in bed, I bet that'd help me look him in the eye.
My door is always open…shit. Am I really thinking about doing this? I really am. I stand up and take a deep breath. Now that I've made a decision, I want to go to his room right now. But maybe there are some things I should take care of first.
I head into my bedroom and put my pad and pencil back in my desk. I walk into the bathroom and turn the shower back on. I washed off after my run, but I wasn't really thinking of anything but the hair on my head. I run my hand over my legs…stubbly, as usual.
I switch out my old razor blade for a new one, and slap some conditioner on my legs, figuring it'll help to get a close shave. I shave my calves and then my thighs, for a change, going all the way around. I pause as I stare at the mound of light brown hair between
my legs. It's not like I haven't seen reruns of Sex and the City. I know what most women have going on down there.
I tentatively reach my razor down and begin narrowing the strip, then trimming down the hair. It ends up a little shorter than I intended, but I think it looks nice. I rub my thighs together experimentally, and am surprised by the buzz of extra sensation that spreads from all the newly exposed skin. I splash some water down there, wondering briefly how I know if I smell good, and turn off the water.
In the bathroom mirror, I examine my body as I dry off. I worriedly run my hand over my stomach for a moment, and then shrug. Jack's already seen almost all of me already, so it's not like there will be much of a surprise. As I head into the bedroom, I wish for a moment I had some nicer clothes to put on, but again, he's already expressed definite interest, so it's not like I have to impress him or anything, right?
I pull on my underwear and some old cotton pajamas, then cover up with a long-sleeved denim shirt. I turn off the lights in my room and close the door after me as I head into the hall. I think my mom and Ray are asleep, but I want to make it look like I am too, in case anyone comes to check on me. I walk down the hallway, passing the foyer and stopping at the stairs up to the third floor, where Jack's bedroom is. I rarely go up to the third floor of the house, considering it to be Jack's territory, and I've never even been inside his bedroom, though I did glance inside it during my first tour of the mansion.
I place my right foot on the first step and slowly ascend. The interior decorating choices on this floor are lighter, more airy, lending it a feeling of existing in the clouds even though the hallway is on the leeward side, without views of the ocean. I pass a casual sitting room and stop in front of the next door, Jack's bedroom.
My palms begin to sweat and my heartbeat jumps in my chest. What seemed so possible and even reasonable in my bedroom now seems frightening in this dark hallway. I look down and study my toes, wiggling them against the cold marble. I'm not committing to anything by just knocking, I remind myself. I can always back out.
I raise my hand and softly knock. I wait, but can't hear anything from the other side of the door. Maybe he's asleep. Maybe he didn't mean tonight. I hesitate, then raise my hand to knock one more time. The door swings open and I yank my arm down.
