by K J Bell
I snap my head back to him. “Oh, no thanks, Tug. I’m going to unpack a few things and take a shower. Maybe later, though.”
“All right, bro. ’Night.” Tug smiles.
After Tug goes into the kitchen, I pick my bag up from the floor, and inhale long and slow. As I remind myself to breathe – so I don’t suffocate on my angst – I follow the familiar stairs up to my lonely room.
I should go back to L.A… Nothing good can come from this. It’s going to be a disaster.
Chapter 2
Tori
After shutting off the water, I poke my head out from behind the shower curtain to see that the white fluffy towel I’d brought in with me is neatly folded on top of the toilet seat, right where I left it. I think it might be laughing at me from the other side of the bathroom. Ordinarily this wouldn’t be a problem – today it is. Yesterday, the lock on the bathroom door mysteriously stopped working. I’m positive Tug did something to it in hopes of catching me in this very predicament. When I confronted him, he denied it, of course, right before he asked if I wanted to go out with him. I’d rather eat the Tootsie Rolls out of the litter box.
When I don’t hear noises on the other side of the door, I decide it’s safe, and slowly step out of the tub. I tiptoe across the squishy bath mat toward my towel, which is now smirking at me. The exact moment I stand in front of the door, it flies open. I grab my girls with my right hand and my hoo-hoo with my left, for all the good it does me. Instantly, my body is on fire as embarrassment crawls all over my skin.
“Whoa, shit! Sorry, Tor.”
Okay, he said he’s sorry. Now, please tell me why the hell he’s still standing there, staring at me, wearing a look of pure enjoyment? If I wasn’t standing in my fresh-from-birth attire, I’d punch him right in his provocatively grinning face.
I immediately turn sideways, hoping to keep some of my dignity intact. “Jesus Christ, Brady. What the hell? Get out!”
With his hands over his eyes, he backs out of the room, peeking through his fingers the whole time like the pervert he is. I rip a tissue from the box on the counter, and hurl it at him angrily before slamming the door. A small laugh escapes my throat when I realize I just chose Kleenex as my weapon of choice. Then I fume. He is probably just as amused by the thought. Asshole!
Brady is Liv’s older brother by nearly four years. Both of Liv’s brothers are annoying – the difference is that I love Tug to pieces. Brady, on the other hand, I want to rip to pieces. What the hell is he doing here? Brady is the asshat I hold personally responsible for my breakup with Jake. Why isn't he in L.A., instead of here, ogling me in the bathroom?
My shoulders slump in defeat and I sigh. His green eyes twinkling, and his flawless smile when he laughs, are bringing on a rush of familiar feelings. Feelings that make my body tingle all over with illicit emotions I’ve stored away for far too long to let them out now. No matter what my traitorous body suggests, I will not let Brady Hunter back into my heart.
I dry off and start to put my PJs on, then decide if Brady is home, I’m definitely going out with Liv. Still red with humiliation, I wrap the towel around my body and cautiously open the bathroom door. It creaks as it opens, and I freeze. I glance down the hall to make sure Brady isn’t hanging around like a peeping Tom, carry my things out of the bathroom, and intentionally stomp down the hall like a rebellious teenager.
When I swing open the door to our room, Liv is sitting on her bed, texting with someone.
She grins triumphantly. “Told you you’d cave.”
I storm into the room, drop my dirty clothes in the wicker hamper, and shove my unworn PJs back in the dresser drawer without folding them. “You bitch. You knew he was here, didn’t you?”
When I look at Liv, she lifts her eyebrows and tilts her head. “Correction, I knew he would be here.”
Traitor! I exhale a noise which sounds something like a growl, and throw my hands in the air. This makes my towel slip, and I quickly catch it before it falls. I’ve already flashed one person this evening. “Shit, Liv. This sucks. He just walked in the bathroom and got himself an eyeful of all my pink parts.”
She grins, a big toothy smile, one I despise because it means something absurd is going to come out of her mouth. “Not like Brady hasn’t seen a naked girl before.”
She’s attempting to ease the humiliation stewing inside me. Instead, it increases my disgust with her womanizing, sperm-ejector of a brother. Does she think just because Brady’s a walking STD I’d be fine with him knowing what I look like with my clothes off?
I roll my eyes at her and sit on the bed next to her. “I so don’t need to be reminded what a filthy man-whore your brother is.”
Her superior smile fades away. “He can’t help it. I mean, when he won the state championship and got into USC to play football, the girls started falling all over him.”
Liv’s always ready with an excuse when it comes to Brady.
Girls do flock to him like lambs to the slaughter. That’s how they usually end up, too – with a slaughtered heart. The term use ’em and lose ’em is one I've heard come out of Brady’s mouth more often than I can count.
“He doesn’t have to say yes to all of them.” I flash a sour smile her way. “Besides, you think all that would have stopped when that 300-pound monster from Mission put him on his ass. These girls have to know if his football career is over, they aren’t going to end up married to some NFL player.” Then I remember that he attends USC because, despite the injury, his stellar grades got him in. He’s studying law. I guess girls envision just as many dollar signs marrying a lawyer as they do a pro football player.
Liv frowns, twiddling her thumbs in her lap. “That’s cold.”
As I take in her downcast expression, I absorb a miniscule amount of guilt. Without a glance, she stands and opens her closet. She wishes things with me and Brady could be different. But they aren’t, and they never will be.
Her back is to me as she surveys her wardrobe.
“How long is he going to be here?” I ask. “I thought he had to stay in L.A. because he was interning all summer.”
She doesn’t answer, and rummages through her closet for something to wear. She pulls multiple items from the hangers, holding each piece up to her slim frame. As she grumbles her annoyance, she tosses one garment after the other to the floor. Liv will go through fifty things before she decides on an outfit. I suddenly realize the fashion show is an attempt to avoid my question.
“What aren't you telling me, Liv?"
She squeaks into the closet, “The internship kind of fell through, so he’s home for the summer.” I hear the guilty-as-hell grin in her voice, though I can’t see her face.
“What, he’ll be here all summer?” I throw my head onto the pillow, scream into it and then sit up and glower heatedly at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She spins to face me with an apologetic pout. Her shoulders are hunched forward as she shuffles toward me. “Because I knew you would never move in here if I did.”
Damn right!
“Well, duh! You do remember Jake’s graduation party, right?” She nods and begins fidgeting with the ring on her middle finger. I’d like to give her the middle finger. “It was Brady who fed Jake the ten shots of te-kill-ya and then pushed Savannah-whatever-her-last-name-is to take Jake in the closet and pleasure him.” I cringe, remembering Jake’s oafish fuck-face at eye level and the blonde bobbing head of Savannah-whatever-her-last-name-is at waist level. Worse than that, though, I remember Brady’s malicious laughter when I found them. He’d wanted me to see the two of them together and relished it jubilantly, like my humiliation was a scene from a reality show. Real Girlfriends of Pacific Beach. I’ll never forgive him.
“You can’t hate him forever.” The bed dips when she sits down next to me. I resist the urge to shake her and tell her that, in fact, I can hate him forever, and I will. “I know it was hard, and you blame Brady, but in a way, he did you a favor. He’s only here for
the summer. With his social life, he won’t even be around that much. I promise.”
Without answering, I pad across the room on my bare feet and remove my white terrycloth bathrobe from the hook behind the door. I pull it on, cursing myself for not remembering to take it into the bathroom with me. “I thought there was some girlfriend he’s currently addicted to. Won’t he go into withdrawal or something?”
Liv frowns and shakes her head. “He and Vanessa aren’t together anymore. He won’t talk about it and gets upset if I bring it up. I don’t think it ended well.” I hear in the dismal tone of her voice that she’s worried about Brady.
I don’t give a shit about Brady or how his relationship ended. “What do you know? Brady Hunter finally got a taste of his own medicine for once. Wish I could have been there to see that.”
“Tor!”
“I’m sorry, Liv. I just wish you had warned me or something.”
“Well, I didn’t, but since he’s here, does this mean you’ll go out with me?” She’s bouncing and clapping her hands together enthusiastically.
The girl seriously has a one-track mind. As much as I don’t want to go out – especially to a meat market full of horny, ass-grabbing men – I’m not staying in this house tonight if Brady is going to be in it. “Yes, I’ll go out with you, but promise, no matchmaking tonight. I don’t need a boyfriend, okay?”
She’s looking at me in the devilish way she does right before she tells me how wrong I am about what I need. “No kidding. What you need is to get laid!” Liv is so tickled with herself she cackles.
“Liv!”
Her hands roll in a continuous motion in front of her body. “No, seriously, Tor. You have all this sexual tension. You’re literally going to combust soon.”
I let my silence express my irritation. Why does she think I’m unhappy because I’m not having sex? It’s a stupid assumption. Like someone could pop simply because they don’t get laid on a regular basis. This desperate way of thinking is what leads her to sleep with idiot after idiot. No, thanks! Finally I reply, “Thank you, Dr. Phill.”
“I make no promises,” she taunts before leaving the room. There’s no point in arguing. She doesn’t listen.
While I'm blow-drying my hair, all of my attention is with Brady. Recalling our impromptu and mortifying reunion in the bathroom has me fuming mad. My immediate goal is escaping this house and Brady as quickly as possible. I force all thoughts of him from my mind, and continue getting ready.
After brushing my long blonde waves up and twisting them into a messy bun on top of my head, I apply a minimal amount of makeup: on my eyes, light pearl-green shadow and brown mascara. I dust a hint of sienna blush on my cheeks and glide an apricot gloss across my lips. It’s enough to keep Liv from nagging at me. I pull on the jeans she picked out for me, and pair them with a black halter tank and some strappy sandals.
Tug strolls into the room without knocking. “Goddamn, girl, did you have to paint those things on? Curves like that could make a grown man cry.”
I detest my goddamn curves, and it makes me ape-shit crazy when people point them out. But it’s Tug, and I’ve learned to expect nothing less from him.
He jumps up onto Liv’s bed and sits, leaning against the headboard. His hair is its typical mess, which somehow always looks right on Tug, and he’s wearing nothing but pajama bottoms. I steal a look at him through the mirror’s reflection, and blush a little. Tug’s been working out, and it’s starting to show. He’s always been long and lean, but now that he’s filling in, he’s kind of hot. Because I would die if Tug ever caught me checking him out, I don’t let my inspection linger. Without a doubt, Tug would hound me relentlessly for the rest of my life about it.
I shake away my not-so-pure thoughts about Liv’s little brother, and turn toward him with a flirty glance. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Tug.”
With a big smile on his face, he runs his fingers through his hair. “Don’t I know this? Maybe if you went out with me, you’d change your mind.”
“I’d rather eat mothballs.” It isn’t my best one, but I’m caught off guard, and it’s the first thing that pops into my head.
“All right, just putting it out there.” Tug chuckles. “Where are you girls headed?’
I swipe some perfume from Liv’s dresser, and spray a little on my neck. “Not sure, some new club your sister wants to check out.”
Liv bounces into the room. She stops and huffs when she sees Tug. “God, Tug, do you ever give up?”
My mouth falls open when I get a look at what she’s wearing, or rather, not wearing. While I can’t see the back of her black stretchy skirt, I’m positive it barely covers her bum. Her top is electric-pink and she might have bought it in the toddler department.
Tug looks up with a guilty grin, his hair hanging in front of his eyes. “What? We were just chatting.” He pauses and looks Liv up and down. “Working the boulevard tonight, sis?”
I laugh and Liv scowls at me.
“You’re an asshole!”
Is she talking to Tug or me?
Tug laughs, and says, “I might be and asshole but at least I don’t walk around with my cooter hanging out.”
I cover my ears. “Ew…Tug, I hate that word.”
He quirks a brow at me and laughs.
Liv waves her hands at Tug like a queen shooing her servant. “You’re so rude, Tug. Get out! Now, scram. Go on, beat it!”
Tug laughs and rolls off Liv’s bed. He shuffles toward the door, and his hand smacks my ass on his way by. I squeal.
Liv rolls her eyes. “How can you tolerate him?”
I shake my head, and laugh. Liv doesn’t understand Tug’s and my relationship. It is a little warped, but I adore the hell out of him.
With critical eyes, I glare at Liv’s wardrobe choice again. “You’re not seriously going to wear that skirt, are you?” My eyes lift to her barely there top, and I pray she plans on wearing a sweater over it.
“Why? What’s wrong with it?” The sly smirk that crawls up the side of her cheek tells me she knows exactly what I’m referring to. Only to her there’s not a goddamn thing wrong with it.
I wrinkle my nose, and point from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. “Umm…how about, I have underwear with more fabric.”
Her hands glide over the dip in her waist as she challenges me. “That’s the point.”
Liv is a total exhibitionist. I swear, if the guys at Black’s Beach were younger than fifty, she would move there and walk around bare-ass naked all the time. I let her take me there once, and I’m thankful the first man she saw naked was not a day under seventy, and his junk was shriveled up like a walnut. I say “thankful” because I don’t have to worry about her dragging me back there anytime soon.
Liv shamelessly shoves her hands into my top and repositions my girls so I’m showing much more cleavage than I want to. Since I am not an exhibitionist, I tug on the top until it fits properly. “I can’t believe you just did that. Have you no shame?”
She giggles. “Nope, none at all.”
Brady
The sight of Tori wet and naked will be etched into my mind until my last day on earth. I intentionally peeked through my fingers, like the pervert I am. She knew I did it purposefully, too. It pissed her off so much she chucked a tissue at me. A fucking tissue! I’m picturing how irritated she must have been when she slammed the door and gave that one some thought. Her anger turns me on in a strangely obsessive way. Tori’s a beautiful girl, but naked, Tori is every man’s dream. The fact that she’s utterly clueless about her looks or the effect she has on men somehow makes her even sexier. The memory of her golden-tanned skin with beads of water rolling down the curve of her breasts makes me rock-hard. Quickly, I try to think of something gross to tame the thing. Tug naked, maybe that will do the trick. Nope. Nothing works. I end up in the shower stroking it with my hand, like I’m fourteen again.
I’m completely screwed where Tori is concerned. There’s a gr
eater chance of being struck by lightning than of her ever forgiving me. Her wide blue eyes were fierce with anger, and she hates me just as much as she always has. It’s for the best. My life is in a downward spiral, and Tori’s better off if she doesn’t get involved with me. No matter what my promise to Vanessa, Tori deserves better. The moment I saw her face again, I knew. I’m bad news for her, and it’s best if I stay away. I’ll ruin her, just as I do everything else meaningful in my life. I have no idea how I'm going to manage to avoid her, since we currently live under the same roof. Maybe I’ll hide out in my room and have Tug bring me food and water.
If I break my promise to Vanessa, it will haunt me for the rest of my life, but hurting Tori again will fucking kill me. I won’t be the one to inflict my poison on her innocent world. I can’t risk popping the weasel.
Once I’m out of the shower, I put on some jeans and a T-shirt. I call some friends, and we make arrangements to meet at a club downtown later. There’s no way I can stay in this house all night with her in it.
After seeing her naked, I lack the self-control necessary to be anywhere near her. Her naked and in my bed with my dick buried deep inside her is all I can think about. Just the thought of her makes me want to jack off again. As long as she’s in my house, I’ll be doing a lot of that. Her nipples are soft pink perfection. Those fuck-me-handle hips beckon me to bend her over my bed and have my way with her. It’s the arch just above her hips seamlessly defining her waist that does me in. I’ve often fantasized about palming her hips and running my hands up her body until they fall into that curve.
I’ve been with plenty of women, but none of them consumed my thoughts the way she does. With them, it’s a quick lay and an even quicker send-off – a “get the fuck out” goodbye – and “no, I don’t want you to call me." Vanessa was my first official girlfriend. I dated her to forget about Tori, but Vanessa is my best friend, not the one I want to be with. She is the one I settled for, and she put up with my shit knowing I wasn’t in love with her. Tori’s the girl I want to wake up to every morning and lie down with every night, but I can’t do it. I’ll hurt her eventually. She needs a “nice guy,” and that’s not me. Damn it, I need to get the hell out of this cursed house. Coming home was a bad idea. L.A. was miserable, but this place is pure unadulterated torture.
