by S. E. Hall
“I’m what?”
“You’re my brother and I wuv you,” she uses a cutesy baby voice and taps the end of my nose…trying to soften the blow she’s already landed.
“Whadda know?” Bellamy yells. “I’m already outstanding in my field, and I haven’t even graduated yet. How cool would it be if I got the Nobel Peace Prize as a sophomore?”
What? While I glance her way, wondering what the hell she’s talking about, Brynn cracks up laughing.
“See, she’s hilarious, on my level. She’s my person,” Brynn says, with a subtle happiness in her tone that I more than hear.
“What the hell is she talking about and why’s it funny?” I ask.
“Outstanding in her field? Like, she’s the best at what she does…and we’ve literally left her standing out in the middle of a field,” Brynn explains, giggling again.
“Got it. Funny,” I chuckle.
“No, you don’t.” Brynn rolls her eyes. “But I do. I get her, so I get her. Meaning, I’m keeping her and you’re not gonna mess it up for me. I know she’s hot and I don’t blame you for being tempted, but you don’t even see the most beautiful things about her, and you’re not the type to take the time with a woman to see them. So please, I’m begging you, for me,” she clasps her hands in front of her like she’s about to pray. “Go pick out another hot girl at the party and work your magic there. Leave Bellamy alone.”
What’s a man to do? Brynn is naive in the ways of the primal male—she has no idea that by telling us we “can’t” have something, it only makes us want that something so much more. On an immeasurable, pound-on-our-chest and claim that shit level.
Now when I look at Bellamy, my baser instincts kick in, honed directly on the prohibited prey.
My eyes track her every move, missing nothing, even the smallest flutter of her eyelashes. My nostrils pick up her scent, soft and feminine. And her breathing, I swear I can hear each inhale and exhale from here.
Dammit!
“You have two minutes before Ryder and I run away together!” Bellamy’s shouting interrupts my thoughts.
“Sorry, we’re coming, swear,” Brynn answers her then turns her pleading eyes to me once more. “Promise me, JT. Promise you won’t turn your charms on my only real friend.”
I should agree, hug her and go find a hottie at the party. That’s what a good big brother would do. But I have two, huge biological factors preventing it from happening. One, the dominant DNA of Dane Kendrick courses through my veins. And like my father, not only do I get what I want, but I don’t take well to being told I can’t have it. And secondly, I’m somewhat of a mama’s boy, and Laney Jo Kendrick always has a twist up her sleeve—ready and able to make you eat the same bullshit you tried to feed her, when the timing suits her.
“How’d you get here?” I ask, brushing past the promise she wants, that I can’t give.
“Ryder drove us. Why?” Her voice wobbles on the last word—she’s worried—as she should be. She’s the daughter of the same two masterminds as me, so she knows a counter-attack is in the works.
“He’s gonna take Bellamy home and you’re gonna ride with me. This discussion is not over. You go arrange that and I’ll meet you at my car, right over there.” I pull out my keys and turn on the headlights. “Hurry up, sister dear.”
“YOU CANNOT BE serious!” she screams, banging a fist on my dashboard. “Why are you being such a pain about this? You met her for all of five minutes!”
Brynn’s the baby, used to getting what she wants—even though I will admit, she doesn’t ask for much or play the card too often. She’s usually pretty cool…but tonight, she’s pissed me off.
“This isn’t just about Bellamy anymore,” I half-lie, ‘cause it is mostly about her smokin’ hot friend with the clever mouth. “This is about you and your opinion of me. You seem to be under the impression that I’m some dog who doesn’t respect women outside of my family, and is in danger of crotch rot!”
“Aren’t you?” she challenges without pause.
“No, Brynn, I’m not. And you’re seriously pissing me the fuck off for thinking, and saying, that shit. First of all, since you’re so concerned, let me assure you, my dick is fine. I have a drug test and full physical every six months at the office. Dad requires it for insurance. And with all the women who had a hand in raising me, that you listed off yourself and are amazing, how could you even doubt for one second my respect for women?”
“I don’t, not really,” she admits glumly. “It’s just, you never go out with the same girl more than once or twice and you leave most of them heartbroken. Bellamy won’t sleep with you in two dates, not her style. Then you’ll lose interest, making it awkward for her and I to stay friends.”
“That’s it,” I snap, swerving the car into the nearest parking lot.
Me: Stopping for food. Brynn is with me, safe.
“Who are you texting? And why the detour?” she asks.
“Dad. Told him we’re late because we stopped for food. You’re welcome. And I pulled over so I can look at you while I set you pin-fucking-straight on a few things.”
Dad: We have food at home. Brynn, inside these walls, 30 minutes. Thank you for letting me know.
I read his reply and laugh. “Good luck with your moving out plan.” I show her my phone. “Never gonna happen.”
She makes a frustrated noise and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m nineteen, not nine. He just…never mind,” she blows out through her nose and shakes her head. “Hurry up, set me straight. Clock’s ticking.”
“I want you to think about the relationships we’ve grown up around. Dad knew Mom was the one the minute he saw her and still acts like it’s the first time he’s ever laid eyes on her anytime she walks in a room. Uncle Sawyer?” I can’t not laugh at this one. “Notorious manwhore, until the second he met Aunt Emmy, then boom, changed in an instant, for life. For her. Aunt Whitley and Uncle Evan? I’m almost positive neither of them have ever been with anyone besides each other, ever. Judd? Loved Sky, and only Sky, since the day they were old enough to hand each other toys and babble their baby-talk that only the other understood.”
“Yeah,” she agrees wistfully. “Our family is so romantic.”
“In our family, when they know, they know. I haven’t met that “one” yet, not sure I even want to, but I’ll never get the answer to either if I quit at least glancing around for her once in a while. I don’t sleep with every woman I take out, Brynn, I swear. But I also don’t string things along, keep dating someone just to save her from what she thinks is heartache, if I know she’s not the one. And you need to hear me on this, loud and clear. I have never, not once, in any way, shape or form, disrespected a woman in my entire life. Do you understand me?”
“I know that J, I do, and I shouldn’t have said it. I’m really sorry. Can you please forgive me?”
“Of course I can.” I smile, but only half sincerely. Because while I do forgive her, she’s not off the hook yet. “But I’m not taking back the deal I laid out earlier. You hurt my feelings,” I feign a pout, “and you need to learn how it feels to be doubted by your family. We believe in and support each other, Brynn. You made it clear tonight, whether you’re sorry or not, that you need reminding of that. Did you know, at Skylar’s wedding, Ryder asked Dad’s permission to take you on a date?”
“No,” she utters. “He did?”
“Yep. And take a wild guess, who do you think Dad automatically asked if he should approve that request?”
“You?”
“That’d be correct. Here’s another brain teaser for ya. Who do you suppose immediately vouched for the guy, to ensure your happiness? Knowing that if you saw something in Ryder, there must be something there, because this anonymous person believes in you and trusts your judgement.”
“You again,” her tone sharpens…not partial to the taste of crow.
“Right again. Okay, last one. Whose friend was Ryder first?” I dramatically cup my ear.
“Yours!” she barks.
“Exactly,” I emphasize gently, satisfied she gets my point. I turn the car back on and head for home. “So, the arrangement stands. No Bellamy for me, no Ryder for you. Fair is fair, Brynny.”
Three
Bellamy
NOT SURE EXACTLY what happened last night, but after a private, and what looked heated, sidebar with her brother, Brynn asked me to ride home with the guy she likes…without her.
I know there’s no “trust” issues there—I’d die before I betrayed Brynn in any way, and Ryder feels exactly the same—I have no doubt, but the abrupt change in plans was odd. And Brynn didn’t seem happy about it, at all.
And JT, who couldn’t take his eyes off me, which I know because I couldn’t seem to manage to take mine off him either, left without so much as a “nice to meet you” or small wave…chin nod…anything.
Strange indeed.
And it just so happens, tonight’s the party Brynn’s parents are throwing at their house in honor of her being voted “MVP” of the softball team this past season, (by the players, not her mom) to which she invited me.
My first function with her whole family that I’ve heard so much about.
I’m pretty confident “whole family” includes her brother, and I’d feel a lot better walking into the celebration if I knew what was up last night. So after I shower and have some breakfast, I text Brynn.
Me: Morning, everything okay…with you? Us? You left kinda weird last night.
After several minutes of no response, I decide to start straightening up my apartment. Because idle hands are nervous, is-she-pissed-at-me, paranoid hands.
Cleaning doesn’t take long, considering my apartment’s small and has very few furnishings. My income from The Pit Stop barely covers the student-discounted rent and utility package, so my “style” is what I have proudly dubbed “miniscule chic.”
But I refuse to ask my parents for another dime. They’ve already sacrificed so much for me to even attend college.
I have what I need, I selfishly splurged on a cell phone, and I’m getting a chance at college, which I never dreamed would happen. Growing up in rural Mississippi, Dad a factory worker and Mom a waitress at night and school bus driver by day, I am one very blessed girl. And one day, with a degree and a great job, I’m gonna make sure my parents have a nice house and never have to look at another shut-off notice ever again.
My phone, the flip kind, not one of those fancy, mini-computer types (I managed to hold onto some semblance of priorities) dings.
Brynn: We’re great, I’ll see you tonight, right? My brother was just being overprotective, as usual. I knew Ryder would get you home safe.
Me: Okay cool, just making sure. Yep, I’ll be there. Anything I can bring?
Brynn: A bathing suit, and clothes if you wanna stay over.
Me: K, see ya there.
Brynn: You’ll see me at your door. Pick you up at 5.
I might take her up on the offer to sleep over. Public transit works adequately, I’m stretching, for school and work but somehow I doubt it runs by Brynn’s house…at night. And I certainly don’t want her to miss any of her own party by having to tote me back home. It’s embarrassing enough she has to come get me.
But a car, even a clunker held together by bread ties, pantyhose and gum, isn’t in the budget right now.
I go to my bedroom to see if I own a decent bathing suit, acceptable for this event. Brynn never speaks of it, but…she comes from money. I am not about to stroll up into a well-to-do party wearing a threadbare circa 2000 bathing suit with all those tiny fabric balls—you know the ones—that collect on the ass over time and many washes.
I’m screwed. I have one, one bathing suit, and it is everything I just listed and more. And the clasp thing in the back? Yep, it’s broken.
Not a lot I can do about it though. It’s okay, I don’t have to swim.
I’M READY WELL before five. Partly because I’m a nervous wreck, deathly afraid I won’t fit in with the crowd, other part because I ran out of things to occupy my frantic mind a long time ago. My place is more than clean and my bag’s been packed for hours.
I’ve got my hair down and straightened, minimal makeup on and I’ve decided to wear one of my nicest sundresses, with spaghetti straps and a hem above, but not too far above, the knee. And my favorite wedge sandals, found at a yard sale for three dollars!
So I’m just sitting, pretending to read the words on my textbook page when really all I’m doing is playing out worst-case scenarios in my head, when a knock on my door rescues me.
“Who is it?” I ask, checking the peephole.
“Delivery for Miss Morgan,” the man, in uniform, I see on the other side answers.
I open the door, leaving the chain latched and talk to him through the crack. “I’m not expecting anything, who’s it from?”
He reads the box. “All it says is Bella’s Boutique.”
“Can you just leave it there on the stoop? Thank you.” I smile and shut the door. I’ll wait until he’s long gone before fully opening my door to retrieve it.
Has to be from Brynn, probably something to wear tonight because she knows I won’t have anything quite up to par. Very thoughtful of her, but I hate feeling like her “project” that she has to spend money on to ensure I fit in with her lifestyle.
Shame on you, Bellamy! That’s a terrible way to look at it. She’s a kind, generous soul and I should be grateful.
It’s been long enough, so I open the door and scoop up the package, beautifully wrapped, and smile—I can’t wait to see what’s inside. I’ll have to bake her some of my special triple fudge brownies as a thank you.
I untie the ribbon and hold my breath as I lift the top off the box. I check for a card, but there isn’t one, so I start throwing tissue paper as fast as I can to get to the goodies.
Oh my.
It’s definitely gonna take more than one batch of brownies to repay this gift.
First, I pull out a fire red bikini, which I can’t possibly wear in front of Brynn’s parents, not with the ample “D” girls I lug around everywhere I go. I’d look obscene. Next, I find a pair of glamorous sunglasses, the designer of which I have to Google…and still haven’t ever heard of him or her, but I see the ungodly prices. And last, I lift out a sundress in a beautiful light green and nicer than anything I own, with a much higher hem and much lower neckline than the one I’m currently wearing.
What was Brynn thinking? She knows I’m pretty modest…which one would think it’d be a given that modesty will amplify, not disintegrate, when meeting her whole family! But as to not insult her, I pack it all in my bag. We’ll see what happens.
At five o’clock sharp, there’s another knock on my door and I open it, knowing it’s Brynn.
“Hey! You ready?” She’s all smiles.
“Yep, lemme grab my stuff.”
“So you decided to stay the night? Yay!”
“Yeah, I didn’t want you to have to drive me all the way back. Plus, while I appreciate it so much, and you really are too good to me, I wasn’t sure how some of the things you sent would fit, so I packed it but brought back-ups. Either way, I will be paying you in baked goodies until I’ve evened the score.”
“Things I sent?” Her face crinkles in confusion.
“Don’t play coy,” I laugh. “I know it was you. Very thoughtful, thank you.” I shut and lock the door, then head for her car.
She doesn’t, standing in the same spot I left her, looking…unhappy with a double side-order of angry.
“Are you coming?”
“Oh, sorry,” she shakes her head and moves her feet. “So, what all was in the stuff sent over? I…uh…just want to make sure they didn’t forget anything.”
“These sunglasses for one.” I slide them down my nose and smirk at her before climbing in the car. “But they’re too much, Brynn. Really, no more gifts for a while or you’ll make me feel bad,” I add when she’s behind the wheel.
“Uh huh,” she mumbles to herself, pulling out of the lot. “Go on, what else was there?”
I laugh as I tell her, because she already knows, but is doing one helluva job acting like she doesn’t. Then, as gently as possible, I explain my concerns with the available material on the bikini and my doubts in its ability to cover all my assets.
“You can try it on when we get there. After the adults go inside, you can put it on. It’ll just be The Squad and they don't mind. Presley’s pretty built herself and definitely not afraid to show it. If it even remotely fits, I’m gonna have to insist you wear it,” she says with a peculiar edge to her voice, a tiny, almost evil looking curl to her lip.
“Oh, okay,” I agree, despite the weird inkling in my gut that I shouldn’t.
“Here we are,” she announces, turning down a never-ending driveway lined with perfectly placed trees, alive with full, beautiful pink blooms, and up ahead…I see her house. Estate. Mansion.
I’m unsure of the correct term exactly.
I know she hears my gulp. “This is where you live?”
“For the time being, but something tells me my chances of getting permission to move into an apartment with you just skyrocketed.”
“Why is that?”
“Because there’s influence in numbers and someone just bought themselves a ticket on my team,” she grits out.
No idea what that means and not what I was asking.
“No, I mean, why would you possibly want to move out of this to share an apartment with me?”
“Oh,” she laughs. “Because it may look huge, but trust me, it doesn’t feel that way. You’d be surprised how much it seems like living under a microscope, while trapped in a shoebox. I’m long overdue for some freedom, independence. Anyway, come on, let’s go introduce ya to the fam. You’re gonna love them.”
