by Jade Webb
Gabby
“I’ll take the blueberry cobbler à la mode. And a slice of the cheesecake, too. Oh and coffee, please.” I hand over the plastic menu and drop my chin onto my hand as I slide my credit card to the cashier.
“Ooh, rough day,” the waitress comments, a pitying look on her face.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
She hands me back my card, along with a large mug of steaming hot coffee, and I trudge my way over to a table and drop down into the plastic chair. I dump creamer and a few packets of sugar into my coffee, twirling it with the spoon. I’m eager to take the first sip, to erase the taste—and the memory—of Liam from my lips.
The coffee spills down my throat and I lean back in my seat. I feel like a fool. The image of Daphni, standing across the street, watching us, is burned in my memory. She had set me up. She had sent her goon to distract me, because the thought of me being with her “arch nemesis” was just too much for her to swallow.
The waitress brings over my pies and I greedily dig in, stuffing my face in a sad attempt to temporarily dull the ache of the steady streams of humiliation that Liam has generously provided me.
I’m about ten minutes away from putting myself into a diabetic coma when I hear the door of the bakery jingle behind me. I don’t think anything of it until I see my waitress turn suddenly, wide-eyed, nearly dropping the coffee mug she’d been cleaning.
“Oh my God, you’re Daphni Monroe!” she stammers out.
I whip around in my seat to find my sister standing behind me. Helpless, I drop my head onto the hard, metal table and let out a pathetic whimper.
Daphni slides into the seat across from me and I pop my head up to stare at her. “Seriously, Daphni? Just go away. Haven’t I experienced enough humiliation today?”
Instead of responding, she grabs my fork and scoops up a piece of my blueberry pie before taking a long drink of my coffee.
“I know you think I’m some kind of monster, Gabby, but I didn’t send Liam to you. That—that kiss—it was all him.”
I groan. “I am not talking about this. God, how did you even find me?”
She takes another bite as she shrugs her shoulders. “You used dad’s credit card. I just asked to see where you last used it.” She takes a look around the bakery. “But I could have skipped all that. I should have just assumed you would be stuffing your face in the nearest bakery.”
I snatch my fork out of her hand and stuff the remaining pie into my mouth. As I chew, I narrow my eyes down at her, which just makes her roll hers.
“Okay, while you’re busy eating your bodyweight in pie, maybe you can hear me out for once. I didn’t send Liam to seduce you, or whatever. Sure, Jordan is an asshole and Liam is actually a really good guy, but I wouldn’t—”
“Enough!” I shout as I stand up from the table. My outburst catches the attention of the wide-eyed waitress, who quickly looks away when I catch her eye. “Enough, Daphni. I’m so tired of all your schemes and your drama. For the past four years, you have conveniently forgotten that I exist, and now, because I’m dating your ‘enemy,’ you decide to try and sabotage it by sending your hired help to mess with me. I’m actually happy with Jordan, and if you gave two shits about me, you would be happy for me, too. I’m here so dad will pay for law school. The minute the tour is over, I’m done. With the tour and with you.”
The words rush out before I can stop myself, though I’m not sure I want to. My body is almost vibrating with anger and I can feel myself losing control. My tirade has completely shocked my sister into silence and I take advantage of it, grabbing my bag and rushing out the door. I see a parked town car, obviously belonging to Daphni, and I scurry away in the opposite direction, down a side street, where I hail a cab back to the hotel.
Back inside my room, I pull out my phone to find a series of texts from Jordan starting over four hours ago. Shit.
I need to see you.
Okay, sorry if that came on too strong. I’m trying to play it cool.
Screw it. I need to see you. Come out with me tonight? Stupid promo at a club but I want you with me. Willing to bribe you with food.
Okay, forget the club. Whatever you want. Tell me when and where.
I can’t help but feel my lips quirk into a wide smile reading through Jordan’s texts. Why can’t my sister be happy for me? And even worse, why would she send Liam to manipulate me like that? She knew how embarrassed I’d been after my birthday fiasco, how hurt I’d been by his rejection. How could she use that against me? Her own sister?
And while a large part of me wants to hole up in my hotel room for the rest of the day—to draw all the curtains, turn off the lights, and sulk—a small part of me wants to see Jordan, to explore what we have between us.
And yet…I can’t help but wonder. Would he be able to measure up against Liam and the way he seems to dominate every single one of my senses when he’s in the room? Would Jordan’s lips make my body tremble with an unspoken need? Would one look from his clear blue eyes send an electric sliver of want and heat through me the way Liam’s charcoal gaze does?
I groan loudly into my pillow before reaching for my phone and finalizing plans with Jordan tonight. Because in the sage words of one Daphni Monroe, “The best way to get over a man is to get under a new one.”
33
Liam
I take a deep breath as I hear the unmistakable click of heels on the wood floor. They are clipped and hurried and I know they are headed straight toward me. There is no use hiding or trying to blend into the curtain behind me. I’ve been spotted, and I know Daphni is going to unleash hell on me.
She doesn’t even speak when she finally makes her way to face me. Her eyes are unreadable behind dark-tinted, oversized sunglasses. When she reaches me, she curves her finger, gesturing for me to follow. I dutifully follow behind as she leads me into a small office off the main lobby. She flicks on the lights and, once sure there is no one else in the room, she slides off her sunglasses, perching them on top of her head. Instead of blind anger, I’m surprised to see puffy, red eyes and blotchy cheeks.
“Daphni?” I ask, concerned when she looks at me with wide, sad eyes.
Even though she’s in her trademark stiletto heels, without all her makeup and attitude, her wide, emerald eyes reveal so much more. They show not only her obvious sadness, but her vulnerability, too.
“She hates me,” she says, her voice a soft whisper.
“Daphni, I’m sure she doesn’t—”
“No!” she interrupts. “She told me. The minute this tour is over with, she’s done with me. She never wants to see me again.” She lets out a little sob and I dig my hands into my pockets.
In the two months I’ve been working for her, I’ve never seen Daphni cry. Even when her shit boyfriend would insult her and openly cheat on her, she still never let anyone see the chink in her armor.
“Daphni, love, you just need to give her a little time,” I say gently. “Let her simmer down a bit.”
She shrugs her slight shoulders and weeps silently. I close the distance between us and wrap her in a hug. She doesn’t push away, but instead pushes herself into my arms and lets out a loud, shaking sob. I get the impression she hasn’t had a good cry in a very long time.
I continue to hold her, gently rubbing her back. I’d been terrified that she’d led me back here to fire me. I was counting on my remaining salary and had already budgeted it all out. Though I do feel a bit of relief, I still feel a twinge of guilt for having sparked Daphni’s fight with her sister.
Daphni disentangles herself from my embrace and sniffles. “You smell nice,” she hiccups.
I can’t help the smile that springs to my mouth. “Thank you, Daphni.”
She takes a deep, calming breath and shakes her body. Offering me a nod, she suddenly narrows her eyes down at me before lightly punching me on the shoulder. “Hey, what were you doing macking on my sister anyway?”
“Daphni, I can explain,” I say.
She sha
kes her head and holds up her hand. “No, trust me, I get it. Gabby is amazing.” Grabbing my arm, she perches up to plant a kiss on my cheek. “And so are you.”
With that, she slips her glasses back on and slinks out the door behind me.
34
Gabby
I squeeze my eyes shut as I hit the “enter” button on my laptop. Letting out a long breath, I finally open my eyes.
Shit.
I reluctantly scroll down the page and click onto the second and third pages of my Google search.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Last night I had gone to yet another club event with Jordan, and a paparazzo had snuck in and snapped a picture of Jordan and I kissing in a VIP booth. And now, thanks to the clever detective work of those stalker journalists, I was easily identified.
I click on the first article and read through it. It’s aptly titled: “Meet Jordan’s new mystery lady: Daphni Monroe’s little sister!”
Great. Even though I’ve somehow managed to snag an incredibly gorgeous, world-famous boyfriend, I’m still relegated to being “Daphni Monroe’s little sister.”
The article goes on to include an interview with a source “very close” to us who shared that we fell in love on tour, even though my jealous sister, who is also in love with Jordan, tried to tear us apart. Apparently, Jordan felt that Daphni, at twenty-six years old, was too old, so he settled on me. Wow, this was definitely some high-quality journalism at work here.
Every other article somehow managed to report the same garbage while reprinting that mortifying picture of me and Jordan, his hand on my thigh and tongue down my throat, surrounded by bottles of liquor in some dark club. It was not my most flattering picture. Still, we had been dating for three weeks now, spending almost every single night together, so I should count myself lucky that we’ve made it this long.
I close my laptop and shoot out a text to Jordan. Did you see?
Yeah, babe. I’m sorry.
Not your fault. I write back. People suck.
Still, let me take you out tonight. Make it up to you ;)
I can’t help the small smile that inches up my face as I read his message and type out a text back. Can’t say no to that…
We finalize our plans for tonight and I decide a hot bath is in order. As I wait for the tub to fill up, I clean up the books I had sprawled across my bed and tuck them back into my bag. We are scheduled to leave first thing in the morning, and this nomadic lifestyle is beginning to wear me down. For the past three weeks, my entire life has revolved around studying for my LSATs, spending my free time with Jordan, and spending every other free minute evading Daphni and Liam. Luckily that hasn’t been too difficult, since Jordan is on an entirely different PR schedule with a whole different team, entourage, and most importantly, plane. When I do see Daphni, I’ve managed to keep it brief and make an excuse to quickly leave. I do feel a twinge of guilt when I see how sad she looks, but then I remember all the shitty things she’s said to me and I easily get over it.
I make my way back to the tub and pin my hair up before sliding into the hot water. The different jets in the tub each hit me at a different angle on my body, helping to unleash some tension in my muscles I hadn’t even realized was there.
I let out a soft moan as I feel the stream of water coast over my exhausted body. I sweep the lavender-scented bar of soap down my arm and gently shift my body so one of the jets in the large tub skims my upper thigh. All this tension from fighting with Daphni and the stress of studying starts to fade away as the warm, soapy lavender water envelopes me. Still, the jets are far too tempting for me to ignore. After all, nothing like a little self-love to help ease all the stresses of life, am I right?
I move again, adjusting my body so when I settle in the bath water again, the jet now directly hit at the folds enveloping my clit. I slowly start to sway, rolling my hips to grant the jets more liberal access to that perfect spot. I close my eyes and let my head roll back as my own hand reaches to grasp my breast and gently pinch my nipple.
I let out another moan as I continue to thrust toward the jet, letting the stream hit my hard nub and send gentle vibrations throughout my body. As I ease into the rhythm, teasing and kneading my breast, I remember the picture of Jordan and me at the club, with his hand on my thigh, brushing my skin and my mouth open to his. What the picture thankfully hadn’t caught was Jordan’s other hand coasting over my breast. In fact, if the photographer hadn’t found us, there was a possibility that I may have gone back to Jordan’s hotel room that night. After we had seen the photographers, I had been so shaken up that I had wanted to head back to the safety of the hotel immediately.
I try to remember Jordan’s touch and the excitement of his hands on my body. I slide my hand down my belly until it finds its way down to the warmth between my legs. My fingers join the jet's gentle assault on my clit and I let out another loud moan.
I stroke myself more frantically, imagining what it would feel like for Jordan to be inside me, pumping into me. Another moan escapes my lips and my body clenches. I am so close. I feel my toes curl and as I feel my orgasm approach, I clench my eyes closed. Except now, instead of seeing Jordan's body over mine, I see Liam's dark-grey eyes staring down at me as his thick arms, covered in black ink, pin me down and his large cock sinks deep inside me. The image of Liam, lost in lust and pleasure as he mercilessly fucks me, sends me over the edge and I let out a cry as I feel my own release.
As I freeze, letting my climax take hold, the images of Liam slowly fade. I almost feel a wave of disappointment and loneliness as I come back down from my orgasm, realizing that I’m alone in this tub. And that the one person I do want is not the same man I am seeing tonight.
35
Liam
“Daphni!” I shout as my fist connects with the door. I’ve been trying to find her for over an hour now, and after my fifth knock, I slip the key card into the door and let myself in.
“Daphni!” I call out into the empty hotel suite. I look around, but all I see are empty bottles of Patron and piles of discarded clothes. There’s no sign of a neon-haired Daphni, and I’m beginning to get nervous. She was supposed to meet Melissa downtown an hour ago, and though she had a habit of being fashionably late, she never completely blew off a meeting.
A sound coming from the bathroom grabs my attention and I make my way over. Slowly opening the door with my foot, I see Daphni in the corner of the large, walk-in shower chugging from a bottle of Tequila.
She looks like shit. Her hair is plastered to her face and her mascara is halfway down her cheeks. She’s wearing an old T-shirt, some underwear, and one sock. She hasn’t even noticed me yet, and I can tell she’s completely blitzed.
“Daphni,” I say louder, so she can hear me.
She looks up at me when she hears her name and slowly brings the bottle down. Her eyes are wide, her pupils completely dilated. I make a quick scan of the room, but don’t see any pill bottles. Still, I know that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have any floating in her bloodstream right now.
I slowly walk toward her and crouch down to sit beside her. Gesturing to the mess around her, I look at her. “Daphni, what’s going on?”
She doesn’t say anything, but offers me a pathetic shrug of her frail shoulders. I gently take the bottle out of her hands and place it to the side.
“You can’t keep living like this, love.”
“It’s the only way I know how,” is her sad reply.
I nod in understanding. I had seen many of my own friends succumb to the temptation of drinking their phantoms away. It was an easy choice compared to facing them down.
I loop my arms around Daphni and pick her up. I set her on the toilet and turn the shower on, making sure it’s not too hot.
“Arms up,” I order, and she obediently raises both her arms. I take off her shirt and guide her back to a standing position in front of the shower.
“Take off your knickers and then go on in. Soap up—I want you in there for
at least ten minutes.”
As she steps inside, I drop down onto the covered toilet. “Are you going to tell me what lead you to this latest binge, Daphni?”
The shower is open, with no curtain shielding us, so I know she can hear me.
“You don’t strike me as the type who wants to hear a rich girl’s sob stories,” she replies after a long moment.
“Fine. Don’t tell me. But you’ve got to stop with this drinking, Daphni. Don’t think I don’t notice what’s in all your water bottles. You’re crossing into dangerous territory here.”
“I’m just going through some stuff right now, Liam. I don’t expect you to understand. The drinking helps.”
“Aye, trust me when I say that I know it helps. But it only helps in the short term. That’s your mistake,” I reply.
“Well, it’s all I have.”
“No, no it’s not. And when you get out of that shower, I’ll show you that it’s not.”
_________
“You cannot be serious!” Daphni moans as I finish wrapping her hands in the black tape.
“Aye, yes I am, girlie.”
“My head is fucking killing me,” she whines.
“That’s why I gave you the Advil. Now shut your mouth and watch me,” I order. I bounce on my feet, shifting my weight from my left foot to my right. Keeping my hands up by my face, I punch out a jab and hit the black punching bag straight in the center. As my knuckles hit the hard bag, I can feel the tension sift out my body. I look over to Daphni who, thanks to her shower, looks a little more like a human.
“Your turn,” I tell her, gesturing to the bag.
She rolls her eyes but takes a deep breath. She mimics my bouncing and strikes the bag with her right hand. It barely moves and she pulls her hand back, swearing. Before she can walk away, I grab her by her shoulders and pierce her emerald eyes with mine, forcing her to look at me. “Look at that bag, Daphni. Look at that bag as the fucking traitor that it is. That bag hurt you, it destroyed you, it took advantage of you. That bag wants to defeat you. Don’t let that fucking bag defeat you, Daphni. You defeat it.”
