by Kelsie Rae
How often does our society tiptoe around touchy subjects instead of taking the bull by the horns and saying what they really think? As long as she isn’t being rude or hurtful toward other individuals, which I’ve never seen her be, then I think it’s one of her most exquisite traits.
Still, I’m taken aback by her question and decide to let it marinate for a minute before answering.
How much honesty is she expecting from me? How much am I willing to give?
Grabbing my own slice of pie, I follow Bree’s lead and take a giant bite. There’s something oddly intimate about sharing pizza and eating it straight from the box instead of using separate plates.
I like it. It feels foreign, but comforting somehow. Like I’ve always secretly wanted to be comfortable enough around someone where it didn’t bother me if our food touched.
We did the same thing last night with the Chinese food, fighting over the most appealing bites with our utensils. It is just another thing I enjoy about her. Her playfulness and almost childlike joy she finds in the smallest of things. She’s so… refreshing.
Swallowing my pizza, I finally answer her. “Beth and I were in a relationship for two years in college. I thought I was going to marry her, which is laughable. I shared everything with her, thinking she did the same with me. Little did I know, she practically led a separate life, had separate friends, had a separate boyfriend. Everything. I still can’t believe how stupid I was when I look back on our relationship. All the late night study groups, the girls trips... it was a complete lie. I was so focused on school and a new business idea that I didn’t do the math in our relationship and put two and two together.”
I pause, looking up from my slice of pizza. I catch Bree staring at me with absolute focus, hanging on my every word. Swallowing thickly, I continue. “I was working on a particular business model that I knew could be groundbreaking. Beth was working on a marketing degree, so I asked for her help. I pitched my app idea, showing her my hard work along with all of the information I had gathered. It was practically my baby, and I was excited to share her with someone I cared about.” I laugh sardonically. “Little did I know she was dating her boss at the time during her internship, who happened to be a wealthy entrepreneur and businessman. She took the idea to him, and it exploded within months.” Bree gasps, bringing me back to the present.
“Obviously, I finally figured out her transgressions and broke up with her. But it was too late. I’d already lost millions… along with my heart. After that, I decided to never mix business with pleasure, and to trust no one.” Bree flinches, as if my words are a physical blow to her tiny frame.
“It’s nothing personal, Breezy. I just can’t break that one rule. I don’t think I’d survive a second betrayal.”
Bree cocks her head to the side, considering my last statement. “What makes you think a betrayal is inevitable?” she challenges.
“Because I know that when it comes down to my well-being or someone else’s, the other person will always choose themselves. It’s human nature. Self-preservation and all that.” I shrug my shoulders like it’s common sense, while taking another bite of food.
“So you’re saying you would never choose someone else’s happiness over your own?”
“That’s not what I mean,” I answer, my mouth full.
After chewing and swallowing, I continue. “I would give the world to someone if I knew they’d offer me the same in return. The problem is that no one is willing to do that, so why should I put myself out there?”
I can tell Bree is trying to stay calm, but I know I’ve offended her somehow. “You know what I think? I think Beth broke you. I think she tore your heart into tiny little pieces and stomped on them for good measure. The problem is that now you’re too terrified to let anyone get close enough to you to stitch it back together again. This isn’t about a stupid no-fraternization policy. I think you enforce that rule in every aspect of your life. You don’t let anyone get close. Ever. I think we could have something great. I know we could. But if you’re not willing to give me a chance then you’ll never see how a real relationship is supposed to be. I’ve seen true love. My parents have it. My brother and his wife have it. He gave up everything for her happiness. It obliterated him. But he did it anyway, because he loved her. And you know what? It took her a long time to find out the truth, but she loved him back and would do anything for him. Sometimes love requires patience, but above all, it requires trust. And if you can’t give that trust, you’ll never find someone to fix what she wrecked. And that means you’ll never truly be happy.” She shrugs after her long-winded declaration as if it didn’t just shake the very foundation my life is built on.
Bree wipes her mouth with a napkin, brushes the crumbs off her hands then stands up from the bar stool. “So, are you taking me home ‘cuz you’re stubborn, or do you wanna snuggle and watch a show?” Her hands are on her hips, silently challenging me all over again.
Freaking hurricane.
“I’ll grab a blanket. The remote’s on the coffee table,” I say over my shoulder while walking down the hallway to the linen closet.
When I make it back into the room, Bree’s sitting on the couch, her feet tucked underneath her, with my video game controller in hand.
“You have an Xbox One.” Her statement is accusatory.
“Yes?”
“And you have Call of Duty.”
“Yes?”
“And why have you not mentioned this?”
“I didn’t know I should….”
“Well, I wanna game, Butthead!” she teases, turning on the television without reservation and tossing a second controller at me.
Shaking my head, I take a seat beside her.
“Are you any good?” I can’t help but ask, my curiosity piqued.
“Meh. I have two brothers who like to game, so I’ve played a time or two. Mario Kart is my specialty, though,” she adds, cheekily. “How ‘bout you?”
“I’m not bad, but Jude is the king. He’s also a competitive little shit, so be warned if you ever decide to play with him,” I joke.
Grinning, she replies, “Noted. He’s kind of a nerd, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he’s also a genius. I may have been the one with the original idea for the company, and I handle all the business aspects as well as a little programing, but Jude is a coding guru. The stuff that guy can put together with zeros and ones is incredible.” I can’t help the envy that seeps into my tone.
Seriously, the guy has recruiters contacting him daily in hopes of hiring him. Thankfully, he’s my most loyal employee and best friend, so I don’t have anything to worry about.
Or at least that’s what he keeps telling me.
“That’s funny! I always thought nerds were supposed to be overweight virgins living in their moms’ basements. Not a hot British guy with sexy glasses.” She giggles playfully.
“Hey! You keep saying stuff like that, and I might get jealous.”
“Been there, done that.” She winks flirtatiously, reminding me of her little ploy to get me to notice her.
“You little smartass!” I tackle her on the couch, pinning her in place and tickling the crap out of her. She’s squirming back and forth, begging me to stop through fits of laughter. “Stop! Please! I warned you a white couch was a bad idea! Please don’t make me pee my pants!” She continues to giggle uncontrollably, my heart skipping a few beats at the melodic sound.
I stop torturing her. My left hand grasps her two tiny fists above her head while my right one still rests on her side as she catches her breath. I’m straddling her, my thighs on either side of her own. My large frame is bent over her tiny one as she lays on the couch, and in this position, I’m reminded of how easily I could break her. She’s still breathing heavily as I take in our intimate position.
I lick my lips, my eyes zeroing in on hers. If I lean in a few more inches, they’d be touching.
As soon as the thought enters my head, my eyes dart to her mossy gr
een ones staring back a me. I’m wondering if she’s thinking the same thing I am.
By her shallow breathing, I can tell we’re definitely on the same page. The problem is, after our conversation earlier, I know she doesn’t want a cheap thrill. She wants the real thing, and I’m not sure if I can give that to her. Not yet, anyway.
So, instead of giving in to the desire to taste her soft, pink lips like I’ve been dying to, I use my forearms to push myself back to a seated position before fully getting off of her and sitting beside her instead.
“Shall we shoot some zombies?” I ask, praying she can’t hear my heart pounding against my ribcage.
My head tells me I did the right thing by pulling away, but the stupid muscle in my chest is protesting like I took away its reason for existence.
Bree sits up slowly, her cheeks flushed, and hair looking like she just rolled out of bed. She looks good enough to eat.
“Yup. ‘Cuz heaven forbid you actually grow a pair and make a move.” She winks at me, softening the blow before grabbing the controller and starting the game.
After an hour or so of Call of Duty, we decide to switch to a show. I was actually pretty impressed with her gaming skills. She wasn’t incredible or anything, but she did know how to hold her own and even got a few headshots in.
It was freaking sexy, and somehow made me even more attracted to her.
Like that is even possible.
We turn on The Great British Baking Show and snuggle up on the couch beneath a soft, black blanket, Bree’s head resting against my shoulder.
I wake up a few hours later, the blue screen painting the room with cool undertones. Bree is snoring lightly against me. There’s a small patch of drool soaking through my shirt from her kissable lips.
I chuckle quietly as I assess the girl sleeping on me. Even when she’s unconscious, she’s still a spitfire.
Unfortunately, I have a crick in my neck from my awkward slumped position, so I slowly try to situate us until we’re laying on the couch. This lands Bree’s body practically on top of my own.
After five minutes of searching for a comfortable position with my massive frame on a tiny couch, I finally throw in the towel and grab a very sleepy Bree and head to my bedroom.
The black comforter on my king-sized bed looks more appealing than ever as I lay Sleeping Beauty on the left side and tuck her in before taking off my shirt and climbing in with her.
Bree’s unconscious form tosses and turns, her tiny hands searching for something in the sheets until she touches the heated skin on my chest. She immediately scoots closer, throws her leg over mine, and clings to me like an adorable little monkey.
I smile softly, running my fingers through her thick, silky hair until her breathing finds a deep and steady rhythm once more.
I know I should’ve woken her and driven her home.
That would’ve been the smart thing to do. The responsible choice.
But I can’t help myself. I need to hold her for just a little longer. Need to stay in this land of make-believe where true love exists, and people put others first instead of themselves.
I drift off smiling, wishing I could stay here forever while knowing reality is just around the corner.
16
Bree
I wake up slowly, keeping my eyes closed and acknowledging that I just had the best sleep of my life. When did my second-hand mattress become so comfortable, and my sheets turn so silky? And why does my pillow smell so freaking delicious? I nuzzle in further, recognizing the lack of pillow case in addition to a small pebbled nipple brushing against my cheek.
Wait a minute.
Pushing off of said pillow and opening my heavy lids as quickly as possible, I take in my surroundings, nearly having a heart attack when I see a very masculine body with his thick arm covering his face.
My fight or flight instinct kicks in out of nowhere, and I slap my hand against his bare chest impulsively, catching us both off guard. The guy bolts upright, his hand rubbing the spot that’s already turning red, which is the precise moment when my tired brain finally catches up with the situation.
“Shit! I’m so sorry! It was a reflex! My mind was still fuzzy from sleeping, and I didn’t recognize you for a minute… or remember getting into bed with you! Wait, when did we get in bed together? I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered that part, and why are you naked?” I screech, caught between confusion, guilt, and a dash of lust.
“Well that’s one hell of a way to wake up,” Derrick teases, laying back down on the bed, his hands resting behind his head casually.
I eye his chest warily, noticing the bright red handprint on his left pec. Along with a mountain of muscles.
“Shit. I seriously am so sorry!” I apologize, placing my hand gently on top of the angry mark, my face scrunched up in embarrassment.
“It’s all good, Breezy.” He wraps his arm around my neck, lowering me back to the bed and pulling the covers back over our bodies. “And while that was a fun little wake-up call, I’m not quite ready to get up yet.” His nose nuzzles my hair, and he inhales deeply.
“Did you just sniff my hair?” I ask, trying to contain my laughter.
“Maybe.” He places a kiss on top of my head. “You smell amazing.”
Giggling, I reply, “I think I like sleepy Derrick. I might actually be able to get somewhere with this guy.”
“Give it a minute. I’m sure he’ll come to his senses soon enough,” Derrick jests.
I ignore his asinine response. “What time is it? Where’s my phone?”
“It’s 10:32, which is insane. I never sleep in this late,” he rumbles, his voice still particularly gritty from sleep.
“Crap! I gotta go! Brunch is at 11.” I scramble off the bed, anxiously searching for my shoes and purse before remembering they’re in the mudroom.
Derrick eyes me from his comfortable position, lazily scanning me from head to toe.
“Alright then. Let me grab a shirt and my keys, and we can head out.”
“You wanna come?” I ask, impulsively.
“You want me to come to brunch with your family?” Derrick clarifies, his brows practically reaching his hairline.
I guess it’s not exactly normal to invite friends over to meet your family only a few weeks after knowing each other. But alas... when have I ever followed standard procedure?
Shrugging, I extend the invitation again. “Seriously, you’re welcome to come. It’s pretty low-key. We do it almost every Sunday. I should warn you though, my family’s a little crazy. I mean, they’re not Bree crazy, but they’re still a bunch of odd ducks.”
Derrick laughs at my invitation, as well as my apt description of my family.
“If I go, they might make assumptions.”
“So? It’s not like you’re the first guy I’ve ever brought home, and you won’t be the last if you don’t get your head out of your ass,” I add cheekily.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he mumbles under his breath while grabbing a shirt from his drawer.
Then he speaks a little louder. “I’d love to come, Breezy. Let me brush my teeth, and we can head over. Do you need to stop at your place, too?”
“Meh.” I shrug. “I usually show up in pajamas, so yesterday’s clothing seems rather fitting. Got an extra toothbrush by chance?”
“Sure. It’s in the bathroom closet. Let me grab it.”
I follow Derrick into the master bathroom. This place is just as sleek as the rest of his home. Gorgeous black tile, white cabinets, and ebony granite countertops. It’s stunning.
He finds an unopened toothbrush and hands it to me before grabbing his own and brushing his teeth.
I’ve never lived with a guy before, so brushing my teeth next to one is a surprisingly intimate experience. We maintain eye contact in the bathroom mirror, and I try to contain my foamy smile while blatantly checking out Derrick, who looks sexy as hell in his black v-neck shirt and dark jeans that hang low on his hips. I sing the ABC’s b
ackward in my head three times before spitting and rinsing.
I doubt the guy owns a hairbrush, so I use my fingers to comb through my long tresses before placing it in a messy bun on top of my head. I wet my fingers with some water and rinse off the mascara that’s caked under my eyes from falling asleep last night without taking it off.
Afterwards, I shrug at the mirror, accepting my 30-second makeover, and turn to Derrick who watches me as if I’m the most fascinating creature in the world.
“What?” I ask, feeling like I’m being examined under a microscope.
“Nothing,” he whispers, his eyes pinning me in place.
That same familiar tension swirls throughout the bathroom, kicking up my heart rate.
Derrick steps closer until we’re nearly chest to chest. He slowly lifts his hand, licking his thumb before wiping it across the corner of my mouth, effectively parting my lips in invitation.
I catch myself holding my breath, afraid I’m going to pass out if I don’t get some much needed oxygen. But breathing seems impossible with Derrick standing so close to me and touching me so intimately.
My gaze silently begs him to make a move before he drops his hand in utter defeat.
“You had a little toothpaste,” he mumbles before exiting the bathroom and grabbing a fresh henley from his walk-in closet.
“Of course I did,” I murmur to no one in particular.
17
Bree
The drive to my parents’ home is relatively short and sweet. We spend the drive arguing over who has better taste in music. Obviously, the correct answer is me.
Pulling into the driveway, Derrick takes in my childhood home. It’s a quaint little two-story house with a big maple tree out front. The leaves look a little fried from the summer heat, but the grass is green, and the pink pansies add a friendly touch to the front porch.
