She picks at it while I wait. “Bren, I want to go to NYU for college next year.”
I frown, confused. “New York? Isn’t it freezing in New York?”
She puts a tiny piece of whole wheat in her mouth, chewing on more than the bread. “Yeah. But the drama department there is the best.”
“Julliard’s the best. Or Yale,” I argue.
Irritated, she throws me a look. “Neither of which are SFU, by the way. And neither of which did I get accepted to, either.”
I scoff. “Yeah, but you didn’t get accepted to NYU either. I mean, you’d have to apply…” I stop talking. “Wait a minute. Did you apply to move all the way across the country, and not tell me?”
Her brows crisscross. “I didn’t want to tell you unless there was something to tell.”
I stare at her, mouth gaping big enough to fit a flying saucer. Jumping off the couch, I blow up. Completely lose my shit, pacing. “What??!! You applied to move and you didn’t even tell me you were thinking about it?” Stopping cold, I turn to her. “We tell each other everything. You wanted that! So why did you think keeping this one to yourself, something that affects both of us, was the way to go?”
She sighs. She mother fucking sighs. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Didn’t you think I would support you?”
“I didn’t know…”
Something inside me doesn’t believe that’s the reason at all. And that ‘something,’ I will ignore for a whole year, including right now. I walk to her and pick her up off the couch, put her on my lap. Her arms slide around my neck like they always do when we sit like this and she looks at me with open love, a love I’ve come to rely on, thinking it will always be here. Just like her. This is the girl I plan to marry. She’s the reason I don’t mess around with other girls. Why have a burger when you can have steak? I kiss her. “Sara… Of course I’ll support you. It’s amazing you got in. I’m proud of you.”
The first smile since she came home washes over her face. “Really? You’re proud? Oh my God, that’s such a relief!” She hugs me and I squeeze her back.
I look into the future and see us on the other side of the U.S. It’s not a terrible idea. As long as we’re together, it could be great. I’ll miss my friends, but I can make new ones. New York isn’t lacking people to get to know. Plus, she and I are each other’s best friends. We hang out with each other more than with anyone else. She’s all I really need. I smile and admit to her, “I never thought I’d live in New York, but I’m a city guy. I’ll probably love it. I might have to come in the second semester, though. I don’t know when you applied but it sure wasn’t tomorrow. I’m sure it’s all filled up.”
Distressed, she interrupts my planning. “Oh, but I’m a year behind you so it’s okay to switch with two to go, but… do you really think you should change schools this close to finishing?”
I chuckle, give her lips a peck. “Nah. It’s no big deal. Communications and marketing? I can do that anywhere. Who gives a shit where I… Wait.” Someone steps on my heart with a steel-toed boot. “Don’t you want me to go with you?”
She pauses, smiles, and rolls her eyes. “Don’t be crazy. Of course I want you to come. I just want what’s best for you, too.”
“Oh.” I’m trying to believe her, but the look I just saw in her eyes was disturbing. A terrible instinct is bitching at me from my gut. I can’t help but wonder why she never told me. How it would have taken asking people for letters of recommendation, and so much preparation, all of which she must have done behind my back. Why she waited until a Sunday when I know the mail doesn’t come on Sunday. Why she isn’t begging me to go with her.
She must see the worry on my face, because she says, “Brendan, hey. I’m not gone yet.”
I kiss her hard on the mouth, holding her cheeks. I whisper against her lips, emotions building up in my chest, my heart aching. “I can’t even think about it. I’ll miss you so much.”
She nods. “It’ll be terrible. What are we gonna do?”
A knot tightens in my throat and I can’t speak, so I kiss her again. My hands search for solace beneath the soft cotton of her dress. I press my fingers into her thighs, running them slowly up to the part of her that makes me throb every time I think of it. I love this girl. But long distance relationships never work. Do they? The knot grows hard and I try to gulp it down. We grope and ache for each other, kissing hungrily. Unzipping my pants, she shifts her skirt so that nothing is between us. Her hands wrap around and pull on my cock, making me groan with painful pleasure as tears threaten to drip down my cheeks. My fingers penetrate her, searching and exploring. She’s always so wet. Today isn’t any different except that today is the day I will remember every day for the next year of my life. I’ll remember her kissing my chest, pressing me into her, enveloping me into the silky wetness of her sweet, tight pussy. Her braid bouncing up and down. Her breasts pushing out of the dress, my mouth traveling across them as though it will be the last time. Hard and full, my moving fast inside her, pumping hard just to hear her moans grow loud, while desperation pounds my own senses to obliteration. Staring at her, my heart squeezed with pain, her eyelids fluttering closed, losing herself to the pulsing. Her looking like a Pagan princess with lips-moistened nipples and white dress-straps hanging down from her shoulders, her mouth open and beautiful. Thinking she can never leave me. Feeling that she needs to be forever and always mine.
Over the next month and a half before she leaves, I will try to convince her to leave college altogether and study at The American Conservatory Theater here in San Francisco. I will – even on the day I put her on the plane – suggest that I can quit school and go with her, if she’d just say the word. I will call her every day after she leaves. I will mope around school and remain faithful to her while sitting in classes I never remember. I will pay the rent on this apartment all on my own, convinced she’ll be coming back for the summer, and that we’ll move there together then, for her last year. I will cry, sob like a two year old when, a year later, she tells me about Steve, the jock she will meet at NYU who she becomes engaged to without telling me that we’d even broken up. I will have a ring, too, but she will never know it.
But today, with her riding me like this and crying out my name, I think I have won, and there is no way she’ll really leave. I hold her tight and tell her, “I love you so much, Sara Brighton. You know that? I really, really love you.”
She sighs into my chest, and reaches her chin up to ask silently for a kiss I’m more than happy to give. “I really, really love you too, Brendan Clark. You’re so good to me.” She smiles and nuzzles into me again. “So good.”
“Not as good as you are to me,” I say, smiling and feeling safe again.
What a fucking moron.
3
The New Brendan
The day Mark invites me to move in. Two weeks after being dumped. Staring at that stupid fucking flower pillow.
________
Sara was everything to me. She made my days brighter. She made me want to get up in the morning. She made me happy. And then between two of her pretty little fingers, she cracked my fucking heart in half like a used up toothpick.
Holding the flower pillows, I walk to the kitchen and open up a drawer to find the scissors. Slowly and methodically, I slice both pillows into peach and green shards, white stuffing and murdered fabric falling in chunks around my feet. With one last inch-wide jagged pillow-sliver dangling in my hand, I open another drawer to find an envelope. Within less than two minutes, I’ve addressed and stamped a letter to the New York address I’ve had a year to memorize: Sara, I always hated these fucking pillows. I’m sure Steve probably hates your stupid pillows, too. Fuck you, now and forever, Brendan. I shove the pillow DNA in, lick the envelope and toss it on the counter. I’ll savor mailing this to her. Who says I have to be mature?
Love does nothing but kill you. I’m done with love. Totally and completely and forever done.
4
&
nbsp; Annie
Twenty-three. From Downers Grove, Illinois, but I will never live there again. One more year to go at SFU. Summertime. Cannot wait for graduation.
________
I’m at a party. Everyone knows me. Everyone likes me. Which is weird. They wave and smile as I pass. A group of handsome men call over with sensuous stares, “Annie, come talk to us.” But I demur with a shy smile and turn away, searching for him, the only one I want.
All the usual suspects from college are here, but they’re dressed up in clothes from an era long gone by. The girls – normally in too-tight pants and bra straps sneaking out from tank tops – look gorgeous in floor-length gowns, matching gloves, and gilded masks. The guys – normally wearing skinny jeans and graphic Ts with sneakers – are all decked out in tailored tuxedos, black shiny shoes, and scarf-like ties. Everyone looks incredible. The party isn’t a lame kegger at someone’s apartment but a feast in a ballroom with gold-lined walls and chandeliers so sparkly they might be made of diamonds. Delicious, mouth-watering sweets adorn every table and champagne flows from a dancing cherub fountain. An orchestra plays as people dance, everyone knowing the steps, everyone graceful.
I see him. He’s turned away from me, deep in conversation, but I’d know his dark wavy hair, strong, broad shoulders, relaxed posture, and narrow hips flanking a small, round ass, anywhere. He’s Brendan Clark. He is my everything. Turn around and see me, I silently call.
He turns slowly, searching the room for whom or what, he does not know. It takes him a second to spot me and in this second I study his profile, the concentrated furrowing of his brows, his open lips, so full and kissable. He turns more and stops as our eyes meet. His breathing stops, too. Mine stopped long ago. A smile builds in him as he leaves his group to come to me. My pace is slow and excited, like his. His eyes drift down my body and I feel the heat of his admiration waft through my veins. His blue eyes – the color of the sky just before the sun leaves it completely – ache for me as he bridges the distance between us. The distance that has always been there. He holds out his hand palm up, so beautiful and strong. I take it and see for the first time I’m wearing forest-green gloves. My glance flows down my gown where I discover it’s of the same shade of green. Surprised, I stare at the mounds of my breasts, cinched up high and lovely atop a draping bodice of silk.
“They’re so beautiful. Why do you hide them?” he asks, his timber deep and wistful. He reaches into the champagne fountain cascading from a cherub’s trumpet, letting the crystal liquid run over his fingertips. I gasp as he runs the cool moisture over the exposed parts of my breasts and leans down to lick me clean.
He rises and our eyes lock together. “Brendan,” I whisper.
He pulls me close to him so that our lips are almost, but not quite, touching. The strength of his hands on my back, the heat of his skin, the close proximity of it to mine, lights a fire in me so hot I feel like I might faint. With unspoken understanding, he tightens his hold securely. “I’ve got you, Annie.” I can tell he likes how my name feels on his tongue because he says it again, enjoying the sound, “Annie.” He smiles. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“You’ve been waiting… for me?” I look at his lips, so full and slightly moist. The tip of his tongue is visible, resting on his teeth. Is he going to kiss me? Oh, please, Brendan. Can’t you see I want you to?
He looks to my lips and pauses for way too long. “You knew it, Annie. You knew it before I did, but…” The struggle in me is intense. I want to lean in. Feel what his lips will feel like against mine. Discover what he tastes like, how good he is with his tongue. But I want to hear what he has to say, too. My eyelashes flutter up and he stares back at me, consuming my every thought so that nothing else, no one else, exists… besides him.
I give in to the curiosity. “What did I know?”
He leans in even closer so that when he speaks, his lips sometimes touch mine in the most torturous way. “You knew this is how it was meant to be. There’s a mark on you… that’s also on me. A matching line fate painted on our souls so that we’d find each other. I see it. Don’t you?”
I should play hard to get. I should deny it, tell him I have no idea what he’s talking about. But that would be a lie. And the way he looks at me makes me feel like he knows what I’m about to say, anyway.
Breathless, I nod. “I do. I saw it the moment I first saw you.”
His hands slide up my sides and he guides my arms to go around his neck. His fingers trace my cheek as we look at each other. He leans in and kisses me, our eyes closing as our lips melt into each other for the very first time. Our tongues explore and taste each other. He feels so good, so right and perfect. I feel his kiss through my whole body and moan into his mouth a sound of happiness.
This kiss makes me feel whole. Like I won’t be alone anymore. Like I’ve never been alone as long as he was walked on this planet, too. And now he sees it, he knows, and we’ll be able to fight through life together, going through all the adventures, hardships, victories, laughter, tears and joy that life has to offer, together.
He pulls away first and I open my eyes last. “Annie, wake up. It’s time to go.”
I frown, tilting my head. “What? I don’t want to go anywhere. Can’t we stay here?”
Like he doesn’t hear me, he says again. “C’mon Annie. It’s time to go.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” His face changes and transforms into my friend Corinne. I’m holding lovingly onto her neck, close to her face. I let go of her and jump back, staring at her standing there in Brendan’s tuxedo.
Corinne, annoyed, says, “Annie, wake up!”
Oh shit. My room comes into focus and standing there in my doorway is Corinne. “Annie, Jesus. Three-hour nap? It’s time to go. C’mon.”
I rub my eyes and press my face into the pillow. “I was having the best dream ever. You ruined it.”
“What did I ruin?”
I peek through a small sliver that separates the pillow and comforter to see her leaning in the doorway with one eyebrow up. I mumble, “Just my happiness.”
She rolls her eyes. “Like I’d ever ruin that. Now, c’mon. It’s time to go to the party. Get up and get ready.” She pushes off the doorway. “We’re going to get you laid tonight!”
5
Brendan
Entering my first party as a single man. Freshly showered after having packed all day. Heart: pumping hard with excitement and a little anxiety. The world is whatever I make it. So why am I nervous?
________
Tommy, Mark and I had a couple beers at Tommy’s place before we got here. They laughed when I told them I chucked a bunch of her shit out the third floor window. Most of it has already been swiped up by scavengers who are aware of who Marc Jacobs is. Neither Mark nor Tommy would fall into that category. I’m trying to forget, myself.
Walking up the stairs to a pink and blue Victorian duplex off Mission Street, exactly the kind of funky-colored building this city is known for, I succumb to curiosity and ask them, “You guys have probably banged half of SFU, am I right?” I’m trying to sound tough, like I know what I’m asking is obviously true and I’m just making conversation. I’m hoping I don’t sound as out of the loop and inexperienced as I think I do. For all four years during college, I’ve been on the outside. Sara and I were enmeshed. We were at each other’s sides all the time. I rarely went out with ‘just the guys’ because she accurately believed Mark to be a womanizer. And Tommy? Tommy, she despised. That may be why he’s not my favorite person. She made me see things I would normally not have given two shits about. We guys forgive a lot in each other. It’s only when a girl we love opens our eyes by showing us what she sees, do we see the truth of our friend’s behavior. And once you see it? You can’t unsee it. She’s right about him. Tommy doesn’t show women a modicum of respect when they’re not around.
Mark laughs at my question. He’s enjoying my newbie-ness with far too much amusement. I’m sure I seem li
ke a total dork, but I’m doing my best. Tommy throws me a secret grin as he puts his hand on the doorknob and turns it. “Can’t even remember their names.”
“That’s because you’re a dick, Tommy.” Mark says, flicking him on the back of the head. He looks at me with the self-confidence of five men. “I remember all of them. Every single naked, sweet tasting, sweet-smelling one of them. Memorizing the details is part of the fun.”
Tommy laughs and plugs his nose. “Except for Hilde. Yowza. We both hit that. And we’re both sorry for it, hey Mark?”
Mark says nothing, not even with his face. He just ignores Tommy and looks around the party like he didn’t hear him, which I respect him for. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Mark bad-mouth anyone, certainly not a woman. But still, my eyebrows go up as I watch their backs paving the way through the crowd. Tommy smiles and whispers into a chick’s ear as he passes her. I can’t be sure if they know each other, or if he just planted the seed for later conversation. Staring at him, I wonder, how can you forget a girl’s name once you’ve slept with her? The idea is about as foreign to me as giving up red meat. But unlike veganism, I’ll give it a try. I’m looking forward to becoming that emancipated from my heart that all the sex becomes a blur. Sounds like heaven. I’m in. I’ve signed the contract and I can’t wait to play the game.
Mark sees the booze-table in a far away corner. He gestures to us with a chin-jerk to follow him. We nod and work our way toward it while Tommy looks over his shoulder and says, “Mark tells me you went away on your own last weekend when we were in Hawaii.” He knows I was supposed to be in New York with Sara – that’s why I didn’t go to the islands. He’s doing me a solid by not mentioning her.
I relax a little and smile. “Yeah. Went to Mendocino. Ever been?”
“Nah. Never even heard of it ‘til you just said it.” Then I see the mocking smile he’s so known for, the one Sara always pointed out. “Was it beautiful?”
Hearts Series Bundle: Books 1-6 Page 2
