Best Friend's Second Chance (Wilder Brothers Book 2)

by Lisa Levine

  “Your shirt tucked in,” I said.

  I’d tucked in his shirt ever since middle school. It was always coming untucked for some reason, so I was always trying to put him back together. But never, in all these years, had he ever grabbed my wrist when I went to do it.

  He didn’t say anything. Not an “it’s okay” or a “no problem, thanks for fixing it.” He just slowly let go of my wrist as I watched his chest rise and fall a bit faster than it had been before.

  “Hey, what’s taking so long in here?” a voice called from behind him. “Oh damn, you’re right; she is hot.”

  Easton’s friend looked over his shoulder and pushed Easton out of the way as he thrust himself in front of me and held out his hand.

  “Charming,” Bridget said as she looked at him with raised eyebrows.

  I could tell that in her head, she was calling him things like a mouth-breathing neanderthal. I looked at Easton, who was still standing speechless as if he’d never seen me before. What was going on with him?

  “I’m Max,” his friend said while he picked up my hand that was still beside my thigh.

  I guess he thought it was an appropriate thing to do since I hadn’t taken his hand. Bridget would be right to call him a neanderthal. Max lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed the top of my knuckles. Then he traced his tongue over the top of my pinky finger, and I pulled my fingers away in disgust. Ewe.

  That seemed to have snapped Easton out of whatever trance he had been in because he slapped Max hard on the shoulder and shoved his friend out the door. “Ready?” Easton said as he looked at me again.

  “Yeah, guess so.”

  “Have fun!” Bridget called after us sarcastically as we walked toward the car. She knew I was already miserable.

  I got into the backseat of Easton’s car while Max held the door for me. I hated riding in backseats, now more than ever.

  “Hi!” the girl in the passenger seat said as she whipped her long, wavy, blond headful of hair around to introduce herself. “I’m Heather.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m—”

  “Oh, don’t bother,” she giggled. “I’m dead awful with names. I’ll forget it by the time we get to the bar.”

  Okay, I already hate this.

  “I won’t forget your name,” Max said to me with a salacious grin. “Because later tonight I’m going to be screaming it in pleasure as I—”

  “Max, shut the hell up,” Easton said as he glared at his friend through the rearview mirror from the driver’s seat.

  “Dude, chill. Just making small talk with the lady back here,” Max said as he put his hands up in the air as if he were gesturing a surrender. Then he turned to whisper into my ear, “Trust me when I say that’s the only small thing about me.”

  He sat back up in his seat and winked at me as I was trying not to gag. Then he put his hand on my thigh a bit too high up. The longer we rode in the car, the higher his hand seemed to slide as if I wouldn’t notice the tiny trend upward.

  “Are we almost there?” I asked Easton after a few minutes. I was really hoping this place was close by.

  “Yeah,” he answered. “We’re here now.”

  The car pulled to a stop in front of the valet station of a very upscale and elite-looking nightclub. I opened my door and hopped out as quickly as I could before Max ended up busting my virginity with his fingertip.

  Easton handed off his keys to the valet and was getting ready to come to say something to me, but Heather quickly bounced over to his side and grabbed his arm.

  “Yay!” she said as if she were a four-year-old getting ice cream. “Let’s go in!”

  The line to get entry into the club was long, and I hung back near the car as Easton made his way straight up to the bouncer, who immediately lifted the ropes and waved us all inside in front of the entire rest of the line. I guessed it helped to be the richest guy in town. Max grabbed my waist and pulled me alongside him, nearly causing me to trip over my heels.

  “Don’t worry,” he said with a smirk as he saw me trying to steady myself back on the tops of my shoes. “You won’t need to be on your feet at all later.”

  God, where did Easton find guys like these? If my inner feminist didn’t kill him by the end of the night, my outer feminist just might.

  “I’m not going to be getting on my back for you,” I said, just to make sure that the message was very clear.

  “You don’t need to get on your back, baby. I can come at you from all angles.”

  That was about as much of this guy as I could handle.

  “I’m getting a drink,” I said to the three of them as soon as we had made it past the bouncer and entered the nightclub. I couldn’t even see where the bar was through the packed crowd of gyrating bodies that were moving on the dance floor, but I didn’t care; I would find it.

  “I’ll come with you,” Easton said as he tried to pull his arm away from Heather. “Some of the guys here can be kind of lowlifes, so it’s probably best if you stick next to Max or me tonight.”

  I leaned forward to whisper into Easton’s ear, “Hate to break it to you,” I whispered. “But, your friend is a lowlife, too.”

  Heather tugged Easton’s arm in the direction of the dance floor before he could say anything else to me, and then Max followed them out to try to impress me with his X-rated dance moves. I ignored all of it and went on a mission to find the bar. I would need at least one, or maybe a dozen, drinks to make it through tonight.

  When I found the bar and had a coveted cocktail in my hand, I sat on a barstool and watched them dance. The dance floor in the center of the club was packed with people who didn’t seem to mind if their bodies rubbed up against complete strangers. They were too swept up in an inebriated pulse of the music as they moved together like a physical chant of bodies. But even with the crowd, my eyes could find him. They always found him.

  Easton danced as if his body was made of something much more hedonistic than mere flesh. I drank my cocktail in big, heaping gulps as I watched the muscles in his chest ripple beneath the fabric of his shirt as he moved. I didn’t even realize how quickly I had finished the drink until the bartender came by and asked me if I’d like another. I nodded and kept my eyes on Easton. I watched as he danced, and his body pressed up against Heather. She was all over him, literally, as were several of the other girls on the dance floor. One of the girls even brought him a handful of shots while he was dancing, and he quickly guzzled them without stopping. As each pretty girl danced around him, Easton responded in kind by pulling their bodies against his hips and running his hands down their sides. I didn’t want to see this; I hated seeing this. But I also couldn’t take my eyes off of it because I wanted to be one of those girls so badly.

  The bartender handed me my next cocktail, which I gladly accepted before turning back around to see Max standing in front of me and trying to press himself up against my lap.

  God, it was so gross.

  Don’t get me wrong; Max was a very attractive guy, the kind of guy who could probably pick up any model he wanted and take her back to bed with him. But he was so overly assuming that it made him grotesque. For example, the fact that he was pressing his very hard and excited state of arousal onto my kneecaps was about to make me sick.

  “Want to dance?” he asked with a drunken smile.

  “How did you get drunk already?” I asked. “Haven’t you been dancing this whole time?”

  “Yeah,” he said as he started to rub himself against me like a dog. “But there’s some pretty good shit on the dance floor. Come on; I’ll show you.”

  “No, thanks,” I said.

  “You’ll like it,” he said as he pulled my arm and made me spill my drink on my dress.

  “I said, no thanks,” I reiterated a bit louder this time.

  When he reached behind me to try to scoop his hands under my butt and lift me off my seat, I started to slap and kick him. I figured that would make him stop, but instead, he laughed and seemed
to think we were playing some kind of game.

  “Hey, buddy,” the bartender said from behind me. “I don’t think that lady wants to go with you.”

  “Fuck off,” Max sneered at him.

  He picked me up and set me against his waist so that I could feel his enlarged state of arousal even more.

  “Put me down,” I shouted at him as I pushed against his chest to get him to drop me.

  “Come on,” he said as he leaned forward and tried to kiss my neck. “We’re just gonna dance, loosen up a bit, girl.”

  Just as I was going to start screaming, Max lurched forward and dropped me. My back fell against the bar, and it hurt. I looked up to see what had caused him to lose his hold on me, and I found Easton standing next to him with his hand on Max’s arm.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Easton growled at him.

  “Easy, man. We were just having fun,” Max said. He looked flushed as if he were trying to retain his machismo posture and stave off embarrassment.

  “Easton,” Heather called from the dance floor as she swirled her hips around. “Come back to dance with me.”

  “Are you okay?” Easton asked as he helped me sit back up on my barstool.

  I was too flustered to answer him. So instead, I just looked at him like a deer in headlights. His eyes were filled with anger, and his jaw was tightened. I was surprised at how upset he was with his friend. I was also surprised at how much he was ignoring his date, who kept calling for him from the dance floor.

  “Dude, if you’re not going to go dance with your girl, then I will,” Max said as he walked over toward Heather and thrust himself right between her moving thighs.

  “Ivy,” Easton asked me again. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said as I gathered my wits about me. I suddenly felt as if the room were spinning and I was going counterclockwise. I hadn’t even had that much to drink; it was just the series of events that had sent me spiraling.

  “I’ll take you home,” he said as he looked me over to make sure that I was as okay as I had said I was.

  “No, don’t worry about it. I’ll call Bridget to come to pick me up,” I said. “Go back to your date, and don’t worry, I’m totally fine.”

  “No, I’ll take you,” Easton insisted.

  I had had just about enough of being told what to do for the night, and as much as I wanted to let Easton drive me home and maybe even come inside the apartment for a bit, I just couldn’t deal with anymore tonight.

  “No,” I said as I put my hand on his chest and pushed him away.

  He looked at me as if I had hurt him, even though I knew my hand hadn’t hurt him at all, but perhaps my word did.

  “Ivy,” he said with an audible regret in his voice. “I’m sorry about tonight; I just wanted to—”

  “It’s fine,” I said as I got up and started to walk toward the door. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  His speech was slurring, and it just wasn’t the time to get into any sort of actual conversation in a noisy bar anyway. As much as I didn’t want to leave him here with all these beautiful women who would like nothing better than to touch him all over, I just knew that it was best for me to go.

  “Do you need an escort out?” the bartender asked me.

  “No, thanks,” I said. But no sooner had the words come out of my mouth than a small gaggle of guys started inching their way out from one of the corners. Honestly, there were so many beautiful women here in the bar that I had no idea why any of them would be trying to stalk me on my way out the door.

  “On second thought,” I started to say as I turned around to find the bartender again.

  He was already standing beside me and had flung his bar towel over the top of the counter to come and walk me out. I turned and glanced over my shoulder one last time to see if Easton was still sitting at the bar, but he was already back to dancing with Heather and the others across the club. I looked longingly for a split second at him and then left the bar.

  The bartender was really nice, and he stood with me the entire time until Bridget arrived.

  “Thanks,” I smiled at him before I got into the car.

  “No problem.” He smiled back. “I’m sorry that you had such a shit night here, but for what it’s worth, that guy really likes you.”

  “Which guy?” I asked. “The one who tried to shove himself into my lap?”

  “No,” he laughed. “The guy who was about to punch that other guy.”

  “Oh, Easton. Yeah, we’re best friends.”

  “If you say so,” the bartender winked.

  He turned and walked back into the club.

  What was that supposed to mean?

  Bridget gave me an inquisitive look as soon as I got into the car, and I could tell that she was ready to interrogate me about the night’s events. But as soon as she pulled away from the bar and I had a moment of quiet in the car to think straight, all of the thoughts about what had happened tonight came flooding into my mind. When I looked up at her, all I could do was start to cry.

  5

  Chapter Four (Easton)

  I didn’t even remember anything else that happened after Ivy had left the nightclub last night. The last thing that I remembered was watching her walk away with the bartender as she left the building. I got up to go back to dancing with Heather because I couldn’t stand to just sit there and watch her leave. I wanted to go after her and tell her that I was sorry for dragging her into this, sorry for my pseudo-friend being such a jackass, and sorry for literally everything, but I knew that I had already had too much to drink to engage in a coherent conversation, especially about anything that mattered.

  I was still sober enough, though, to make sure to watch for the bartender to return. I wanted to make certain that she hadn’t ended up going anywhere with him after he had walked her out. He seemed like a decent guy, though, and he was back inside the bar after a few minutes. After I had danced some more and had a few more shots, I went back up to the bar to thank him. I was basically ignoring Max at that point. He was lucky I hadn’t beaten the shit out of him for what he had tried to pull with Ivy. If I had been any soberer, I probably would have.

  “Thanks, man,” I said to the bartender as I sat down on a stool and took a break from dancing.

  “For what?” he said as he looked at me with a rather condescending expression.

  “For making sure my friend was okay.”

  “If she’s your friend, shouldn’t you have been making sure that she was okay?” he asked.

  I would have gotten mad, except for the fact that he wasn’t wrong. “I was,” I answered. “As soon as I saw my other friend acting like a dick, I came over here to stop him.”

  “Seems to me,” he said, “that one of those two people is a pretty shit excuse for a friend.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed as he handed me another drink. “You’re not wrong there. The term friend was used loosely with Max. But not with Ivy, she’s my best friend in the world.”

  “Ivy is her name, huh?” he said as he dried a piece of glassware behind the bar. “That’s a pretty name. Beautiful girl, too.”

  “Yeah, she is,” I agreed again. “Honestly, I feel really crappy about what happened tonight. I should never have brought her out here, and I should have taken her home.”

  “Nah, it was good that her girlfriend came to get her. I think she’d had enough of the male species for one night. Look, I don’t know anything about the reasons you brought her out here, but I can tell you the reason that she came.”

  “You can?” I asked with curiosity. “Did she say something to you about it?”

  “No,” he said as he shook his head. “But it was pretty obvious to anyone with eyes; anyone except maybe you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That girl is in love with you.”

  What?

  “That’s impossible,” I laughed. “Ivy and I have known each other since we were practically kids. We’re best fr
iends, really close best friends; that’s all.”

  “Uh, huh,” he said as he went ahead and poured himself a drink as well. “That’s what she said, too.”

  “She did?”

  “Yep, while I was walking her out. But let me tell you something, friend…you know that way that you were looking at her all night in that beautiful dress she had on? That’s the same way that she was looking at you while you were on the dance floor. That girl might be your best friend but trust me when I say there’s a lot more in her eyes toward you than friendship. You’d be stupid not do something about it.”

  “Do you have these deep conversations with all of the people that sit at your bar?” I asked him.

  “Only the ones who really need it.”

  I heard Heather calling me from the dance floor. She was getting so tipsy that she was practically taking off her clothes while she danced. I got up to go head back to her since it was almost time to leave. I was going to need to call a cab and leave my car here for the night.

  “One last word of advice,” the bartender called from behind me, and I turned to look at him and saw him motion his hand toward Heather. “Don’t take that girl home tonight.”

  6

  ***

  But—I did.

  I just couldn’t seem to help it, especially when I was drunk and especially when I didn’t have Ivy to talk to about things. I just felt like I wanted some physical distraction and release, and Heather was so pretty and so into me in the cab that she had already put her hands down my pants and had started to rub me off, even before Max had gotten out of the car. When the cab dropped us off at my apartment, we stumbled inside together, made it over to the bed, and then had a vigorous session of sex before we both passed out.

  When we woke up in the morning, I hurried to make a stiff pot of coffee to combat both of our raging hangovers, and then Heather left to go home and sleep off the rest of the day. I, on the other hand, needed to get to work. I took a minute to sit down on my couch and checked my phone messages while I nursed my pounding headache with a steaming cup of black coffee and a handful of aspirin.