by K J Bell
irreparably broken
K J Bell
Dedication
To my girlfriends, for encouraging me to write this, thank you.
I love you all.
Chapter 1
Tori
“Remember, since you’re living here now, you’ll have to follow the house rules,” Liv says, mocking her parents and I chuckle. “And the first rule is that you have to go out with me whenever I want you to, and tonight I want you to.”
“Olivia Rene Hunter,” I mock her back playfully. “I’m pretty sure your parents meant I had to follow their rules, not yours.”
Liv stands in front of a mirror that hangs on her closet door, brushing mascara onto her thick black lashes, her long dark-brown hair straightened and framing her pixie features. She’s still in her silky bathrobe. I laugh inwardly as I watch her apply blush across her cheeks, the exact shade of pink as her bedroom walls.
Liv loves pink. The day she took me shopping for paint she blithely ignored my preference for "eggshell" and "ecru," labeling them "fancy words for beige" and picked a color that matched her own personality. Her choice, "foxy pink."
She eyes me roguishly through the mirror as I lounge on her bed. As I flip through the pages of a shiny new gossip magazine, I do my best to ignore her. I love the smell of a new magazine. Not quite as much as the smell of a new book, but close. She spins around on one toe and tosses the tube of mascara onto her dresser.
Liv skips across the room to the bed, and lies down gracefully next to me, posing like she should be modeling inside the magazine. The two of us side by side on her bed underlines how completely opposite we are – me with a squeaky-clean face, in cotton shorts and a cami-tank and Liv with her impeccably applied makeup, dressed in silk
“Victoria Marie Preston, are you listening to me?” Liv starts off sounding parental but giggles out the last three words.
I narrow my eyes at the brat when she peeks up at me with a sweet-as-candy grin.
“Don’t call me that!” I snap. I rarely shout at Liv, so my tone visibly surprises her. Her nervous eyes meet mine
“All right, jeez, Tor. I’m sorry, but you need to get over him already.” She wraps long strands of shiny brown hair around her fingers and somehow makes twisting them into a bun behind her head look effortless.
By him she is referring to my ex-boyfriend, Jake. He’s the only person who calls me Victoria. Even my parents call me Tori or Tor, never Victoria.
I sneer at her playfully.
“We were together for three years. I lost my virginity to him, and he broke my heart, as I’m sure you remember. It’s a lot to get over,” I remind her, and swat her with the magazine. It’s only been a year,” I add, trying not to sound defensive, and start looking at pictures of celebrity dogs again.
She bolts upright and folds her skinny legs in front of her. Elbows on her knees, her freshly manicured hands dangle in front of them. The floral scent of her hand lotion tickles my nose. “It’s been a whole damn year already! Yeah, you definitely need to get over him. That’s why you have to go out with me tonight, pretty please.”
Really? She threw out a pretty please? While keeping my eyes on the magazine, I say, “I don’t want to go out. I’m exhausted. I spent all day unpacking.”
She pulls on the top of the magazine, and I toss her a dirty look. “You just moved in today. You could have waited until tomorrow to unpack. So tough if you’re tired, you’re going out with me.”
God she’s tenacious.
I yank the magazine from her grasp, and flip to an article about a heated celebrity breakup. “I needed something to do to take my mind off the fact that my parents sold the home I grew up in and abandoned me to move to Minn-e-fuckin-sota.”
She stands, thrusts her hands onto her hips, and looks me up and down. Her previously tied hair slips out of its knot, and falls perfectly back into place. “Okay, drama queen. They didn’t abandon you. You should be happy for your dad. He got a sweet deal to transfer there. You could’ve moved with them if you’d wanted.”
Oh, boy. Liv is about to go into “mommy knows best” mode. I have to stop her before she analyzes me further. “That’s the point, — I didn’t want to. I’m happy for my dad, but I love Pacific Beach. All my friends are here, including your sorry self. Besides it’s freezing-ass-cold in Minn-e-fuckin-sota.”
Liv laughs and rolls her eyes. “They do have a summer in Minn-e-fuckin-sota, ya know?”
“Yeah, well, I like it here in sunny-ass San Diego, where it’s always summer. I’m a toes- in-the-sand kinda girl.” I smirk.
As she shakes her head, a lock of her perfect hair sticks to her glossed lips. She pulls the hair from her mouth and smiles. “My parents were thrilled you agreed to stay, by the way. It’s like you’re the daughter they never had.”
I stick my tongue out at her. I love my crazy best friend and her crazy family. Liv’s parents aren’t actually crazy at all; in fact, they’re pretty close to perfect. My parents, while I love them dearly, are the unstable ones. I’ve practically lived at Liv’s for the past five years anyway. Now, it’s just official.
Liv springs back up onto the bed and starts jumping. Great, we’ve gone from mama bear to five-year-old. “I’m not gonna stop until you say you’ll go out with me tonight. You might as well give up now.” Her breathing is rapid, and she shouts in between breaths.
My head bobs up and down as I watch her. When she lands facing away from me, I reach up with my leg, and kick her right in her bouncing derrière. I bury my head back in my magazine and snicker. She shrieks loudly and hits the wood floor with a thud.
“Ouch! You bitch!”
I move the magazine to the side and hold in my laughter. “What was that?”
Her head pops up above the mattress and she is making puppy-dog eyes at me. “Please go out with me, Tor. It’ll be fun.” She’s whining, which — my fault — usually works. I have a bad habit of enabling my best friend.
Now I hurl the magazine at her. She ducks, and it sails over her head. “Not tonight. All I wanna do is snuggle up on the couch and watch one of those shows where people rummage through storage lockers and argue with each other.”
She climbs up on the bed next to me, and lies flat on her belly. As she rests on her forearms with her fingers laced together, she eyes me like I’m completely hopeless. “I honestly don’t know how you can watch that crap.” She’s annoyed with me, like she always is when we discuss my nonexistent love life. It’s the only time she’s judgmental about my taste in television shows.
I plop my arm across my forehead, and stare at the ceiling. “Their lives are so much more interesting than mine, that’s how.”
Her sigh is overly dramatic. “That’s exactly why you have to go out with me tonight. Please, for me. For your BFFAA.”
I watch her with amusement as she peers over at me, sticking her bottom lip out. She gives me the puppy-dog eyes again, only this time she actually whimpers.
Briefly I consider finding a new BFFAA. As I watch her chocolate brown eyes light up, I can’t hold back my laughter. Like our mothers before us, Liv and I have been best friends since birth. Liv likes to add her own flair to everything, so rather than BFFs (Best Friends Forever), we are Best Friends Forever and Always. Giving it some thought, now that we’re finished with our first year at San Diego State, Best Friends Forever Always Alcoholics, is more appropriate.
Liv’s door slowly inches open. A long arm reaches in through the crack in the door, a lacy white bra dangling from the hand attached to it.
“Tug, cut it out.” Liv sits up in the bed. Her feet hang off the side, and she glares at Tug, who’s standing in the doorway.
Tug saunters into the room, and wraps the bra around his head like
a bonnet, his light brown curls flipping out under it. I burst out laughing, thinking, Little Tug Riding Hood.
Liv reaches over and slaps me on the arm. “Don’t encourage him, Tor.”
“Ouch!” I squeal and rub my arm. That hurt.
“This must be yours, Liv, because I don’t have any use for an over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder.” Tug removes the bra from his head and twirls it around his finger by the strap.
Laughter erupts from me again. I just can’t help it.
Liv levels a warning glare at him. “God, Tug, you’re so disgusting. Give it back.”
Tug ignores her, and holds the bra up in his hands like a rubber band. He flings it across the room before spinning to face me. He smiles wolfishly, and I already know what he’s up to. “Hey, Tor.”
I hold my hand up, offering him a sideways wave. “Hey, Tug.”
“You want to go out with me tonight?” Tug wags his eyebrows. His bright eyes – as chocolate brown as Liv’s – wait for my answer.
Completely straight-faced, I respond, “I’d rather have my nipples chewed of by a pack of wild dogs than go out with you, Tug.”
He begins belting out the lyrics to “You Give Love a Bad Name” by Bon Jovi while stumbling backward as though wounded, and clutching his hands to his chest. When he’s finished singing, he flips his bangs from his forehead dramatically.
Laughter escapes me until I snort.
“Thank you. Thank you very much,” Tug drawls in his best Elvis voice.
This is how conversations go with Tug and me, particularly in the last year. Tug asks me out, and I throw back an I’d rather joke. There have been many. I’d rather suck cow snot through a straw. I’d rather masturbate with a cheese grater. And my personal favorite, I’d rather suck a fart out of your sister’s ass. Living here means I’m going to need to stockpile some I’d rather jokes.
Tug is Liv’s little brother by exactly nine months. Liv is forever joking that after his birth, her parents bought a television. As I look at Tug, I remember how Liv and I bestowed the nickname on him when we were little because he would tug on our shirts to get our attention. Tug suits him, and most people don’t know his real name is Aidan. He’s exceptionally smart, genius-like, which only makes him more offensive at times. He’s younger than Liv and me but graduated high school a year before us. He has a photographic memory and is a wiz with numbers.
Tug and I are buddies, but he’d be more than that if I ever agreed to go there with him, which I won’t. He’s the little brother I never had, just like Liv is the sister I never had. For the last year he’s asked me out incessantly, and I eagerly await our daily banter. It adds substantial humor to my life – not to mention, Tug’s attention does wonders for my ego.
Liv stands up, pushes her palms into Tug’s chest, and nudges him toward the door. “Get outta my room.”
Tug mocks his sister by making faces and mumbling blah, blah, blah. “I’m going, but next time one of your boobie baskets ends up in my room, I’m hanging it from the tree in the front yard,” Tug threatens. He smiles wickedly and floor-surfs out of the room on his socks. He loves to antagonize Liv. She never ignores him, no matter how many times I tell her it’s the only way he’ll stop.
“You do, and I’ll kick your ass, Tug. I mean it!” Liv shouts at the doorway. With her head tilted, she cocks a brow at me. “Why are you laughing?”
I go to the dresser, and open several drawers, trying to remember which one I put my pajamas in. “Aw, come on, you gotta admit, he’s a riot.”
“He’s obnoxious, and you know it,” she argues. She talks with her hands, as she always does when she’s irritated, and it makes me laugh harder.
“True, but he’s also hilarious.” After opening the right drawer, I pull out a pair of PJs and turn to her with a sly smirk. “I’m going to take a shower and then find me some crap show to watch.”
She flashes me an annoyed grin and sits at the chair in front of her vanity. “No, you’re going to take a shower and then squeeze your sassy ass into a pair of jeans that show off your adorable curves, and then we’re going to hit the Gas Lamp for some fun.”
“The only thing my curvy ass is hitting is the cushion on your couch,” I sass-mouth her.
She smiles saucily. “Whatever, bitch, you’ll cave. You always cave.”
I do always cave — but not tonight.
“We’re leaving at six,” I hear her shout as I walk down the hall.
Brady
I told myself coming home this summer was a bad idea, yet here I sit in my truck, parked in the driveway of my parents’ house. I tap my thumbs on the steering wheel, contemplating what I hope to accomplish by being here, and slam my fist angrily on the dashboard as I growl my irritation.
On the outside, everything looks exactly the same as it did when I left. The trimmed palm trees and the manicured grass look as they always have, perfect. Unfortunately, while the inside may also give the same impression of what a home should be, that’s all it is. An illusion, designed to cover up what scheming and untrustworthy people my parents are. At the moment, there’s only one place I hate more than my apartment in L.A., and it’s the house I grew up in. But she’s here, and I have to see her.
I’ve never cared what women think about me. Hell, I’ve never cared what Tori thinks about me, but all of that changed the night I realized I might have feelings for her.
Thinking about Tori sends chills up my spine and heat to my groin. Much like the thoughts in my head, my gut is churning, twisting and pulling with nerves and anxiety. She has no idea how much I want her, and the last time I saw her was explosive. I don’t have a plan, but I should because when she finds out I’m here, it’s going to royally piss her off.
The desire to see her does nothing to convince me this isn’t an extremely bad idea. “Fuck,” I groan, recalling how shitty I treated her before I left. I’m sure she still hates me. It’s what she said to me the last time I saw her, I hate you, Brady. That’s only slightly worse than the knife-piercing question she followed with: How could you do this to me? My intention wasn’t to cause her pain, and I have to live with knowing it did, but that bed-jumping ass Jake wasn't worthy of her. She needed to know what kind of person he is before she moved away with him. I’m sorry I hurt her, but I’m not about to apologize because they broke up.
What I need to do now, is grow a pair and get my ass inside to face the music. I have to talk to Tori eventually, because I promised my ex-girlfriend Vanessa I would. Not much with Vanessa and me concluded well, but I still love her immeasurably. I have to keep my word. As my best friend, she read me like an open book. She flipped through the pages and knew Tori is the girl I want to be with. Vanessa convinced me that admitting my feelings for Tori is what I need to do. Now I’m home to try and do that. Even though things ended badly between Vanessa and me, I owe it to her to follow through on the last promise I ever made to her, no matter how grueling it’s going to be. Jesus, after what I did to Tori, I might have to deliver her the moon and the stars to earn her forgiveness.
Admittedly, the bigger predicament concerns my parents being here. They were the ones to withhold the truth from me my entire life, yet they expect me to continue the farce, and pretend everything is status quo when I walk through the door. I will — not because I’m weak, though. I’ll act accordingly because I love Liv and Tug, and they deserve the blissfully happy family they believe exists within the walls of their home.
I blow out a fractious blast of air, and swallow my pride like a nasty dose of cold medicine before I swing my truck door open with so much force it nearly comes off its hinges. When my feet hit the concrete, another wave of doubt hits me. My heart’s already racing and I haven’t even made it to the front door. No matter how I try to convince myself otherwise, this place will suck the life right out of me if I forget to breathe. Not giving a damn is easy. Facing your fears and desires is hard, as is reality, which right now is the beautiful, sweet girl living in my house. I have to try.
With my guard up, I reach for the knob on the front door. When my fingers wrap around the cold metal, panic strikes me like lightning, zipping through my body and electrifying every nerve. I’m not ready to face my parents, but I have to see her. When I open the front door, the house seems unusually quiet, and I reluctantly step inside. No one's in the front room and my shoulders relax. I close the door behind me and set my bag down just as Tug comes barreling down the stairs. He smiles crookedly. I smile back and nod a greeting with my chin. He lunges for me, wraps me in a bear hug, and slaps me twice on the back. I shake my head, and wonder when my runt of a little brother turned into a full-grown man.
“What’s up, Brady? It’s good to see you. Mom and Dad said you’d be home for the summer, but they didn’t say when.”
His confused expression doesn’t surprise me. They knew I’d be here tonight. I figured they wouldn’t make it a special occasion, but Tug doesn’t need to know that. Things don’t appear to have changed between him and me. I plan to keep it that way.
“Yeah, I’m not sure if I told them when to expect me,” I respond. “Are they home?”
“No, they went to dinner with friends.”
That’s a relief. At least I won’t have to deal with them tonight.
“It’s good to see you, too, Tug.”
His closed-lip smile stretches his face, making him look every bit the little brother I’ve missed a great deal. “Well, I’m glad you’re back. You want a beer?”
Before I answer Tug, her beautiful laugh flits down the staircase, stirring my emotions as well as my male anatomy. Wound tightly, my heart begins beating furiously as though it wants to leap through the front of my chest, like a jack-in-the-box just before the final turn of the handle. The annoying music plays in my head, increasing my anxiety. Ha! The monkey chased the weasel. That’s fucking irony. I’m home to chase Tori. Hopefully, our song will end differently and my eagerness won’t carelessly hurt her.
Tug elbows me, interrupting my thoughts. “You want a beer or what?”
