by Nicole Dykes
“Fuck you, I was not prissy.”
He laughs at that, “Yeah you were. Sundress with a matching cardigan and ribbon pulling up your hair. Your arms were full of books. Priss. I knew I had no chance with you, but Brooke looked corruptible. Besides, Evan said that he knew you from science class and was dying to get a piece. Figured you were a virgin.”
I scrunch my nose at that and smack his chest, careful to aim at his good side. “That’s disgusting.”
He holds up his hand in surrender. “Hey, it’s how guys talk, especially in high school. And he said it, not me.”
I search his eyes again. “Wow you really aren’t lying are you?”
He shrugs and then takes another drink, not looking away. “No. Homecoming, we were both single, kinda drunk, and I had hung out with you enough to know that the whole prissy persona was just to please mommy and daddy and not who you actually were. I had a hunch by then anyway. So, I went for it.”
Thinking about that kiss brings a flush to my cheeks. I lean over and sit my drink down. That’s enough of that. Shriller does the same and moves even closer so his legs are touching mine. He’s looking at me the same way he did that night.
“Brooke and I didn’t talk for weeks after that night. It was a mistake.”
“Says who? You guys are friends now. It all worked out.”
I subconsciously run my tongue along my dry lips and I see his eyes notice the movement. “I should go.”
“Why?” His voice is raspy and low.
“Because we have been drinking way too much, and funerals are emotional. I don’t want anything stupid to happen.”
“Again, who says anything that would happen would be stupid?”
I stand up from the couch. I need some space from this situation and to clear my head that is clearly foggy from the alcohol. “I do. Shriller, I’m engaged and we are good friends.”
He stands up, stumbling but manages to balance on one leg before propping himself up on his crutch. “I know that, Alex.”
“Good. So, I’m going to bed.”
He smirks and looks over at the door leading to the bedroom of the hotel suite. “Sounds great. Wanna help me with my pants?”
I shake my head at him, sternly. “I’m going to my bed and you are going to yours and we are never talking about tonight again. Goodnight, Shriller.”
I start toward the door and he follows me. “I was half kidding, anyway.”
I turn to him, not able to help the stupid grin on my face before turning my expression to fully serious and placing a hand on his bare chest. “Shriller, if it would have been you today, there were have been a lot of devastated people.”
He looks down into my eyes and scoffs. “Fans.”
“No you idiot. Us. Your family. None of us would have come back from that. Not as the same people anyway.”
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing like he needed to hear that.
I meant every word.
Chapter 11
Shriller
F
uck! Hangovers in your thirties suck ass. I sit up slowly in the comfortable hotel bed, gripping my head with my left hand. Memories from last night with Alex flood back to me. I was a real asshole. For some reason, I just couldn’t cope with the things Billy’s mom had said.
I know there are a lot of young kids that look up to me. I’ve known that for a while, but I’ve never really taken it seriously until now.
Nine years old. He wanted to be just like me because I made it look fucking great. Well, it is. For me, there are very few downsides but still, it is dangerous. It’s not a cake walk, like I make it seem.
I still can’t believe Alex remembers that race out at Dragon Creek. Brooke was so pissed off at me. Truth be told, I was scared shitless that night, but I survived and I won. I was a cocky prick even back then.
Her bringing me down memory lane kind of snapped me out of the deep depression. Then I fucked up. I looked at her like I did back then. She was a mystery to me. A total conundrum because she was the chick in the matching sweater sets, but she had a dark edge to her. Something inside of her was just screaming to come out and I wanted to be the one to bring it out.
Of course, I was dating Brooke off and on at the time and she was doing the same dance with my friend Evan. I hadn’t thought about the night I kissed her for a really long time. She went from being Brooke’s friend, Alex, to my friend, Alex, and that was it.
Last night though, in the haze of way too damn much alcohol and self-hatred from Billy’s death, I let everything get all fucked up in my head. I wanted to kiss her. Hell, I wanted to do a hell of a lot more than kiss her.
I rub my temple with two fingers, praying I don’t puke. Shit. She probably thinks I’m a total asshole. Even worse than before.
I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. Alex is my friend. She’s helping me out, and that’s how I treat her? I’m lucky I woke up with my balls intact.
When I finally feel like I can stand up without throwing up, I grab my crutch from next to the bed and pull my aching body up.
I run water from the sink through my hair and clean up the best I can before dressing casually in shorts and a t-shirt for the plane ride back to Kansas City. When I’m leaned over doing my best to pull on socks, I hear Alex knocking at my door.
I hobble over to the door and let her in. She’s dressed in jeans in a t-shirt and looks tired from last night, but not really hungover. I’m grateful she didn’t drink nearly as much as I did. Lucky for us both she had a level head last night, although I’m not sure Alex ever loses that. Unless she’s pissed off. Then watch out.
She gives me a quick, “hello” and I notice she has her bag in her hand ready to go. I walk back over to the couch, slipping on my shoes, while trying not to show pain. Then once I get them on, I realize I can’t tie them.
Alex still hasn’t said anything else, but she notices and bends down to tie them quickly.
“Thanks.”
She stands up, “No problem. You ready to go?”
I nod my head. So she was serious and we really aren’t going to talk about it? I feel like I owe her some sort of apology or something. “Alex…last night, I’m…”
“Don’t,” she looks down into my eyes where I’m still sitting on the couch.
She’s so damn stubborn, but so am I. “Alex, I shouldn’t…”
“Shriller, I’m telling you, I don’t want to talk about it. Last night was nothing. It was emotional with Billy’s funeral, and going down memory lane with alcohol is just plain stupid when you are already in a dark place.” Her eyes are deadly serious.
Maybe she’s right though. Alcohol and reminiscing don’t always mix well. “Okay, so we’ll just leave it at that then.”
She nods her head and crosses her arms over her chest. “Yes. Besides nothing happened anyway.”
“That’s true.” Maybe I’m exaggerating it in my mind. It’s not like I haven’t flirted with her from day one. It’s just part of who I am. Fuck, I’ll flirt with anyone.
Chapter 12
Alex
W
hen we get back from Houston, I leave a very hungover Shriller on my couch to go and meet Brooke at the gym. We didn’t talk on the plane. Shriller just left his dark sunglasses on and slept. I’m not sure when he’s going to learn that he can’t drink like he’s in his twenties anymore.
I know that he was trying to apologize for the night before in his room this morning, but I didn’t want him to. First, we didn’t do anything wrong, even if the conversation was a little intense. I still have no idea what made him think about that stupid kiss years ago. Second, I told his dumb ass I didn’t want to talk about it ever again.
Honestly, I’d never seen Shriller so…raw. Of course, in the end he tried to make it all into a joke because it’s Shriller after all, but I know he was in a bad place. I’m hoping that once the hangover subsides he will just go back to being a pain in my ass and that will be it.
I p
ull my car into a spot in the gym parking lot and hop out to hit the automatic lock button. I smile to myself as I look at my little blue Prius. Jax, Dylan, and Luke have all tried like hell to convince me that classic is better and all have offered to find me a car and customize it for me. Shriller gives me constant shit about it too, but I love my little gas saver. It’s just a bonus that it drives them all crazy.
When I walk inside, I see Brooke is waiting for me at the entrance. “Hey! How was your flight?”
“Not bad. Fairly short.” I answer as we walk inside and put our bags in our lockers before heading over to our favorite spot to stretch.
Brooke looks over at me and asks hesitantly, “How was the funeral?”
I reach my arms above my head, trying to stretch out the tension from the night before. “Awful. I mean the kid was nineteen-years-old. I’ve never been to a funeral for someone so young before. I’ve been to celebrations of life, but this kid’s life just started.”
“Yeah. There is definitely a huge difference.”
I see sadness wash over my best friend’s face and I’m reminded of the horror that comes with her job sometimes. Brooke has been to a few funerals for teens and even younger children in her lifetime.
We both head over to the treadmills and run before slowing down for a cooldown walk. Brooke looks over at me, wrapping a towel around her neck. “Wow. You okay?”
I look over at her, confused by why she’s asking that. “I’m fine. Why?”
She laughs and points at the stats on the expensive machine I’m walking on. “I think that’s a new record. You just kept turning it up. What’s up? Is Shriller driving you insane?”
I must have zoned out for a bit, letting everything run through my mind. I’ve been spending a lot of time at the gym the past few months. Even when Brooke doesn’t join me. I guess I’m trying to work off the sexual tension. I shrug my shoulders. “Not really. Shriller has been fine.”
“Are you sure? We all have a bet going you know?”
“What kind of bet?”
Brooke smiles easily and continues her walk next to me. “To see when you will either kick Shriller out or kill him.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” I slow my machine down a little more and then say, “It’s really not him. He’s not a bad guest. A lot cleaner than I expected and quiet.”
I usually tell Brooke everything. Now would probably be a good time to discuss the weirdness I’ve experienced since he moved in. The odd flirting and reminiscing about the past, but I don’t. I know why. I don’t want her insight on this. She would read way too much into it.
The root of it all goes back to my fiancé. I subconsciously speed the treadmill back up and hear Brooke as she pushes the down arrow, slowing me back down. She’s stepped off of hers and is looking at me with that signature look of concern. “What’s going on?”
I groan, knowing I’ve messed up and she isn’t going to let this go. I turn off my machine and we go to sit on a bench close by. “It’s not a big deal, Brooke.”
“Liar.” She laughs and takes a drink of water, “I’ve known you for a long time, Alex. Just tell me. We tell each other everything.”
“Yeah, except when you started fucking your client.”
Her eyes roll and she shakes her head, laughing at me. “You are never going to let that go, are you?”
Truth is, I understand why they kept it quiet, but I still like to bring it up occasionally. “It’s just kind of embarrassing.”
“Oh God, you didn’t sleep with Shriller, did you?”
I look at her horrified. “What? No! Of course not.”
She breathes a sigh of relief. “Dylan, Jax and Luke have that bet going on.”
“That’s fucked up,” I say as I look over at her.
She shrugs her shoulders. “Yeah I know that. I mean you killing Shriller, sure. You sleeping with him? Please.”
I think back to washing his hair yesterday before the funeral. I felt like a horny teenage girl. I swear the close contact made me dizzy. He smelled good, way too good for someone who hasn’t been to take an actual shower for days. Feeling his breath on my breasts that were right in his face and running my fingers through his hair. Then watching the water pour down his chiseled chest.
Damn. My cheeks already flushed from my workout, grow even hotter just thinking about it. It’s what I do for a living. Washing someone’s hair shouldn’t be erotic, but holy hell, it affected me big time.
“Alex?” Brooke snaps her fingers in front of my face, trying to bring me back to reality.
“Yeah sorry. No, I’m not sleeping with Shriller. I’m not sleeping with anyone.”
Brooke’s eyebrow crooks up and she gets my drift. “Oh. So, it’s been a while with Stephen?”
I nod my head. “Yeah, he’s just so damn busy all of the time and isn’t ever in the mood.”
“Well how long has it been?”
I hesitate, not wanting to tell her. “Three months.”
“Holy shit! Three months?” Brooke exclaims way too loud and even makes a few people’s heads turn in the crowded gym.
“Damn, Brooke.”
“I’m sorry, but damn. That’s a long time. I mean three months. No sex?”
I shake my head and dry my neck with my towel. “None.”
“Wow. Even when I was pregnant we didn’t go that long.” She looks stunned, which irritates the shit out of me.
“I know, Brooke. I get it.”
She puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. Has he given a reason?”
I take a big gulp of my water. “No, just that he’s really busy and wants to make partner in his firm before our wedding. It’s been his goal for a long time. I want him to achieve it.”
“Still. Can’t he just take a couple of minutes out at least? Something else must be going on.”
I turn to her defensively. “What the hell else would be going on?”
“Don’t get pissy. I’m trying to help. Maybe it’s a physical thing.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
She shrugs her shoulders, treading lightly, “Well, I mean he’s like seven years older than us and you said he’s under a lot of pressure…”
“You think his dick isn’t working?” I ask.
“You never know. It happens to young guys too from what I’ve heard.”
I shake my head adamantly. Surely if that were the case he would have talked to me about it. “No.”
She bites her lip nervously, overthinking this like I knew my best friend would. “Have you considered that he might be having an affair?”
I stand up from the bench. “Brooke. How can you even suggest that? He’s a great guy. I would suspect Dylan of cheating before I would think Stephen could be capable.”
She stands up too. I struck a nerve for sure. “Dylan would never cheat and he screws me quite frequently. I’m trying to help.”
I soften a little. I feel antsy and irritated, and I’m taking it out on her. “I’m sorry, okay. I know Dylan would never cheat, but Stephen wouldn’t either. It’s just a feeling. I can’t explain it, but I know he’s not.”
She sits back down and I join her. “Then what the hell is it?” She asks me quietly.
“I don’t know. I’m lost.”
She turns to me excited. “You know what you should do?”
“What?”
“Surprise him. Go to his office sometime wearing sexy lingerie. Don’t even give him the chance to turn you down. Maybe he just needs a little push to get you guys started again.”
“Isn’t that a little sad? I mean having to seduce my own fiancé?”
“Would you rather go another three months?”
Good point. Maybe I could try that. I’ve tried everything else.
Chapter 13
Shriller
W
ednesday after the funeral, I tap my foot on the tile floor in Dr. Stewart’s office. He’s a specialist that my manag
er’s assistant found for me. Alex is sitting in a chair right next to me and I feel her hand push on my knee down flat, effectively stopping the tapping. “It’s going to be fine, Shriller.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Things have pretty much gone back to normal since we got back. Except Alex seems to have an even shorter fuse. “Then quit tapping your damn foot,” she barks.
See.
Dr. Stewart walks in and takes a seat behind his desk. “All right, Mr. Shriller. I will get right down to it. You need another surgery. The damage was quite extensive on your knee and your collarbone, but I am confident that I can fix them both during the same surgery.”
Fuck, I knew it. “You think you can fix them properly or will I have to have a few more surgeries.”
“With another surgeon? You are probably looking at three or four more surgeries. Me? I can get this done with one.”
I have to admit I like his confidence. It’s something I can relate to. “And you have experience with this shit?”
He nods, “Absolutely. We have top athletes come here from all over the country to see me, Mr. Shriller. You are in good hands, I assure you.”
I feel the stubble on my chin, thinking it over. “How long will the recovery be?”
“Well you’ll stay in the cast on your knee for about four to six weeks and keep the sling on most of the day for about two to three weeks. Then after that, work your ass off in physical therapy.”
“And with all of that?”
“Six months.”
Better than six months to a year. “How soon can I have the surgery?”
“I can book you for Friday.”
“That quick?” I hear Alex ask.
The doctor gives a confident grin. “Well, it’s Adam Shriller. I can bump a couple of things.”
Alex just shakes her head, folding her arms over her chest.
“Book it.” I say and can feel the surprise coming from Alex.
Dr. Stewart nods his head happily. “Wonderful, you won’t be disappointed. So no food after midnight tomorrow and we will see you on Friday.”
