“Well, I guess I’ll see you there,” I say in an awkward huff, then quickly shut the dressing room door.
“Okay, yeah, bye,” I hear her say but I’m already squatted down on the floor, face in my hands, trying to block out the assaulting images of her and Brady together.
He deserves to be happy, I remind myself. I have to let him go, let him take the time he needs to be angry at me. Eventually he’ll see that “we” are too important to risk on a tryst. There can never be more, despite the flicker of hope and tearful musings of how extraordinary “more” would probably be warming my chest.
Chapter Eight
I’m late. Only by five minutes or so, but still late to the most important night of my brother’s life. Guilt eats at me yet does little to quicken my pace.
My excuse, in case he notices, is still being debated. Traffic is always a safe bet but in reality the only thing to blame is my own selfish procrastination.
I dragged ass from the moment I got off work. I watched a little television, painted my nails only to remove it and repaint them a different color, and then finally hauled myself into the bathroom to get ready an hour before the event began.
So here I am, stepping into a grand hotel in the center of town, reluctant to pass through the double doors leading to the ballroom.
And no, my tardiness has nothing to do with the fact that I know I’ll find a gorgeous Brady on the other side, charming the room with a flawless date wrapped around his arm.
Nope, nothing at all.
I hope he is in there; happy, carefree, wearing his usual smug grin, back to his old self. Truly.
I check my coat and square my shoulders, ready to do nothing but celebrate my brother’s accomplishment. He has a lot of work to do to the get the business off the ground, but tonight it’s official, he’s putting the pieces together to bring it to life.
Seems lots of things are changing.
A waiter greets me, handing me a glass of champagne, then steps aside, revealing the room awaiting me.
The quick chug I take of the liquid bravado nearly sputters out as I take in the insanely stunning scenery, decorated in white linens and Dylan’s black “Game On!” logo. The atmosphere leaves me breathless. Never would I have thought it could look so chic. Dylan knows games, but throwing a party? He must’ve found an incredible planner.
Time to go find my big bro and remind him just how amazing he is.
Once I’m fully immersed in the room, I spot Dylan near the band and my face splits into a wide grin. Eager to get to his side where I plan to remain all night, I weave through the crowd of mingling guests, but as I draw closer, my feet trip me up in an abrupt stop. Dylan’s in deep conversation with not just two studious men whom I’ve never seen before, but also Ashley, who’s looking as beautiful as I knew she would.
Brady’s not with them, but he can’t be far. He wouldn’t leave his date alone with all these men, not with the way she fills out that dress. I snatch another glass of champagne from a passing tray and gulp.
Feeling out of place, I move back, unsure if I should wait until she leaves his side or go say hi now. It’s silly and ridiculous. He’s my brother, but still, I don’t want Dylan to see any awkwardness tonight.
Deciding I’ll bide my time before I say hello, I stand there alone and unnatural, wishing I had brought a date. As I try to block out my solo status, a current of electricity sizzles down the back of my neck. I don’t need to turn around to know he’s here. He’s close. I can feel him behind me, my body hyperaware of him tonight.
I wait, expecting him to speak or step around me to say hello when I feel his breath hit the back of my ear, caressing it. Damn him. Friends! Friends!
And then he surprises me yet again when he slips past me, his arm brushing mine as strides smoothly over to his date waiting beside Dylan. She welcomes him over with a sweet smile.
Brady doesn’t look at me once he’s there in the small group, laughing and chatting it up, so I decide to make the most of my night and walk up to the first guy I see standing alone.
“Hi,” I say cheerfully. “I’m Addison Porter, Dylan’s sister. Nice to meet you.”
The guy looks to be around Dylan and Brady’s age; not as built, but cute. His hair is dark and neatly trimmed, no facial hair and dull brown eyes but still…cute.
He gives me a noticeable once over before his lips curl up and he takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Pleasure. I’m Cole. Friends with Dylan for a few years now. Good guy.”
Dylan has very few friends and none I’ve never meant unless he means… “Online gaming friends?” I ask, curious.
He nods with a hint of embarrassment in his smile. “Yeah, I know it’s not the sexiest thing. Most girls hate guys that game, but it’s in my blood. I flew out tonight to show my support.”
“Addison.” I look up to see my brother and Brady walking over, Brady’s eyes hard and zoomed in on Cole.
What provokes me, I haven’t a clue, but I tug my lip between my teeth and lean in and whisper to Cole, “I think it’s kind of sexy.”
“What’s sexy?” Dylan asks, standing beside me now.
“Uh, nothing. Hey, sorry I didn’t come over yet, I just got here and you looked busy.” I give him a quick hug. “I love you. I can’t tell you how impressed I am. And how—”
“Proud you are,” he finishes for me with a chuckle as he releases me. “I know and I’ve been hearing it all night from Mom and Dad too, who are looking for you, by the way.”
“Cole!” Dylan turns his attention to his cyber buddy, leaving me and Brady standing beside each other.
I steal an uncomfortable glance his way just as Ashley appears at his side.
“Gotta say, never would have believed it if I wasn’t seeing it.” Cole laughs, slapping Dylan on the back. “You, of all people, about to run a business.”
“My brother’s one of the best gamers out there,” I defend him instantly, earning me a bashful look from Dylan.
Cole drinks me in. “No doubt about that. But this party—I wasn’t expecting it to be so formal, so put together,” he clarifies.
“Oh.” I slink back, lowering my head. “Yeah, it’s gorgeous.”
“Can’t take the credit for that. It was all Ashley over here.” Dylan nudges his head her way.
Of course she put the party together, she’s superwoman, after all.
Ashley takes the compliment with easy poise then excuses herself to the ladies’ room. Dylan retreats a moment later to go mingle, leaving Brady and Cole standing around me.
One peek at each of them confirms that the “sizing up the competition” thing men do is in play, which is absolutely ridiculous.
“Ashley looks beautiful tonight,” I say to Brady.
His brows pinch. “She does.”
Cole moves closer to me. “Lucky man. How long have you and her been together?” he asks Brady.
Yeah, Brady? How long? Has he been stringing her along this whole time? My temper peeks at the unpleasant pang of jealousy that flares.
“We’re—”
I can’t bear to hear his answer so I cut in. “She’s good for you. I like her.”
His eyes darken at my words then narrow a moment later when Cole’s hand slides around my waist. I don’t push him away, instead allowing the touch from a total stranger.
Cole pulls me closer. “You wanna dance?”
My eyes on Brady, I’m conflicted on how to answer. I don’t want to hurt my best friend, but he’s here with someone else, which means whatever he felt for me obviously wasn’t that strong. Our friendship will rebound and maybe seeing me with someone else will help put things back into perspective for him. I’m not his.
“You should probably go check on Ashley,” I say over the music, “in case she needs your help or something. I’m good here.”
I don’t give him a chance to reply. Cole takes my hand and leads me out onto the dance floor where he wraps his arms around my back, holding me close.
<
br /> Leave it to Brady to deal with things in a mature, classy manner.
Or not.
Apparently Ashley rebuffed his plans or wasn’t fast enough in the ladies’ room, so he’s now latched and I do mean latched, on to the tackiest bimbo in the room. Rolling my eyes and pulling Cole closer against my body, I try not to steal glances over his shoulder at Brady’s antics, but sometimes, like a car wreck, you just have to look.
And when I do, his mouth may be on her neck, his hands groping her ass in true porn fashion, but his eyes…they’re on me. Hard, determined, and challenging, he glares my way but why I’m—for once—not sure.
Is he begging me to pull him off her or outdo his brazenness with my current partner?
Is he pissed off?
I can’t pull my eyes away despite Cole’s whispering in my ear, which is incoherent since my brain is busily processing the sight that’s crippling me with emotions I can’t squash.
As Brady’s fingers tighten and knead her tiny ass, he rolls his hips, pressing his pelvis into her—I have my answer. My brows raise, telling him I won’t back down.
Challenge accepted!
My hand slips down from Cole’s shoulder and grips the hem of my dress, hitching it up just enough to slide my leg higher up Cole’s hip. I dip my head back, my chest pushing forward, and giggle at nothing, praying Brady can hear it above the music.
A deep, low growl escaping Cole freezes me in place and I fight from recoiling at the thick length hardening against my stomach.
“So fine,” he whispers.
I place my hands tighter against his shoulders and pull myself back into our previous, normal dancing position. That should be enough to show Brady two can play that game.
Ashamed for involving Cole, I give him a sweet smile then chance a peek to assess Brady’s reaction and the saying holds true—play with fire and you will get burned.
Which I am, scorching from head to toe in a blaze of excruciating fury as I watch Brady dip the hussy and feed feverishly at her mouth. When he pulls her back up and links his fingers with hers, the motherfucker winks at me while he whispers in her ear, then, to my horror, leads her off the dance floor.
I’m frozen in agony, each of their steps leading to the double doors where their sordid tryst awaits sending a splinter of jealous agony through me till my gut is twisted beyond repair, about to explode.
“Mmm, come back here,” Cole grunts in my ear.
I robotically push him away, eyes still on that damn door. Brady turns back once and catches my stare, a passing flash of I can’t decipher what it is on his face before he turns and continues his exit…officially taking what I thought was a bratty game of torment way too far.
“Mind if I cut in?” my father asks, appearing out of nowhere.
Cole looks to me with guarded restraint. I’ve definitely led him on tonight, but the fury flooding my veins keeps me from feeling the depths of the guilt. I’ll simply add it to my recent list of sins as I never plan to see the man again.
“Of course not, Dad.” I force a smile his way then press myself closer to Cole for a brief hug and whisper, “Thanks for the dance.” I place a chaste kiss to his cheek then turn and take my father’s hand.
Cole leaves the dance floor, seemingly satisfied, after throwing me a subtle wave. It eases a tinge of the rage I have when I glance at the door again.
Just like when I was a young girl, my father twirls me out then draws me back into his arms. I smile for him, always daddy’s little girl, but the thought of Brady out there somewhere with that…my lip trembles.
My head rests against my father’s shoulder as I blink back tears.
“You look beautiful tonight, baby girl.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” I swallow past the knot in my throat. “Can you believe it? Dyl’s really doing it.”
“Yeah, we always knew he’d find his way, just like you did.”
“Right.” My way? Had I found it? Sure doesn’t feel like it.
“Is something wrong?” He pulls his head back and I lift mine, his lowered brows pressing me to talk.
“I’m just a little lost right now, that’s all,” I confess, shuffling my feet, constantly glancing to the infuriating door Brady has yet to reenter.
“Is this about Brady?”
My breath catches and I shake my head with adamant denial. “No, Brady and I are fine.” My lie is smooth.
“Good.” He looks relieved but it doesn’t last. “You’d tell us if there was something wrong, right?” he asks, twirling me out again.
“Yeah, of course.”
He’s staring down at me as though he’s waiting for something, for me to spill some big secret. What exactly does he know? Did Brady talk to Dylan? Or someone else? It’s a small town, after all. I’m not sure what to say.
“Addison, honey, it’s none of my business and you’d probably prefer to talk to your mother about it but…” His voice lowers and a hint of a blush creeps over his cheeks, one that I haven’t seen since he attempted the birds and the bees talk when I was fourteen. “There’s been some talk around town and I’m worried.”
“Talk? About what?” The song winds down and I step out of his arms, suddenly apprehensive at the way his face tightens with worry. Dad’s always loved Brady like a son; I know he’d be thrilled for us to get together and wouldn’t understand my refusal. My head’s a wreck, forming a drawn out explanation why Brady and I are better as friends.
“That you’ve been to doctor’s office a lot lately. If there’s something you need to tell us, please, we’re here for you. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.”
Get through it? Get through what? Then it hits me. He thinks I’m sick. It has nothing to do with Brady. It’s about all my appointments.
I laugh, almost manically so, until his worry turns into horror at my outburst. It’s official—my life can get no worse.
“Addison!” my mother calls out, stepping beside us.
“Mom, hi.” I embrace her, shushing my chuckle.
“I told you not to say anything to her tonight,” she chastises my father in a whisper.
“If my daughter’s sick I want to know it!” he retorts.
They lock eyes, a discussion with no words being held between them. I’ve seen it before; they rarely fight, just exchange looks that put issues to rest, but tonight it baffles me.
“When you’re ready to talk to us, we’ll be there to listen,” my mother says to me.
My father wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her hair; I have to smother a sigh at their easy comfort with each other.
“How do you do it?” I ask. I’ve never questioned their relationship before, but I need to understand why some people have it so easy.
“Do what, honey?” my father asks.
“You never fight. You’re always affectionate, still stealing kisses after all these years. How do you do it? How does it work so well for you?” But not me I want to add but don’t.
“That’s simple,” my mother starts then looks up to my father to finish.
“I married my best friend,” he says.
My mother snuggles him closer, nodding her head.
Best friends. I swallow hard, a tight smile forming to appease them, but it’s filled with sadness and before I can help it, my chin starts quivering, my eyes prickling with tears.
My head bounces in understanding. “I need some air. Excuse me.” I back away and turn quickly, pushing through the guests littering the dance floor searching for an escape.
My mother’s voice calls my name but I don’t stop, rushing my steps, shouldering people aside until I realize there’s only one escape and I refuse to run into Brady macking on some bimbo. I can’t handle it.
Darting my head back and forth, I’m granted a moment of mercy when I spot an exit sign glaring along the back wall. I nearly sprint toward it as imagines of Brady kissing her, sliding his hands under that skimpy dress riddle my flustered mind. I tug at my necklace, now choking me, suffo
cating me. I desperately need air.
It’s not just Brady I picture, but Dr. Reynolds now too, groping her in his office, spreading her legs in his stirrups. She’s probably his patient, after all. It’s all some bad joke.
I knock over a poor waiter, champagne flutes flying off his tray and shattering on the ground, spraying guests with the bubbling liquid. A quick “sorry” is all I can offer, though. I’m too close to freedom to stop.
I spot Ashley beside my brother, laughing at something he’s saying. She’s a sweet girl; I feel bad that she fell for Brady’s charm. I wonder if she spent any time looking for him when she came out of the ladies’ room. Brady’s a jerk, I’m a jerk and this whole mess is deserved.
My palms slam open the doors and I suck in a deep lungful of cool night air. I’m standing on a gated alcove covered with a massive awning overhead with no guests around, nothing but one dying light hanging down. I welcome the darkness. It suits my mood.
Clawing at the back of my neck, unable to remove my damn necklace, my sobs begin to spill out. “Dammit!”
“Shh.” A gentle voice caresses my back as do strong hands that move mine away to easily unclasp the jewelry. It’s Brady that steps around me and places it in my hand, but I already knew at first touch that it was him.
“That was quick!” I snarl, stumbling back, swiping angrily at my damn tears. “Where’d you fuck her? In the parking lot?” My laugh is harsh, cruel even to my own ears. With a sinister sneer, I step back into him. “You’re such a goddamn prick!”
“Is that so?” His voice is steady, indifferent. Nothing but a cool façade, albeit his glittering eyes that sheen with something else.
“Yes! Yes, it is so. Why even bring a date if you were going to screw around, huh? You just don’t care who you hurt!”
His arms fly out to the sides, teeth bearing with his roar. “Oh, I care! I care too damn much! It’s you that’s heartless.”
I recoil at his tone. “Heartless?” I breathe.
When he takes a step closer, the dim light highlights the sharpness of his tense features. “I didn’t bring a date tonight. I asked the only girl I wanted here with me and she turned me down. Like she always does.”
Stirred Up #2 Page 6
