Need

by K. I. Lynn

  I wanted more with her, and I’ve never wanted that with anyone. I was going to date a girl for the first time ever, have a girlfriend, then my dad fucked everything up, effectively ruining my life.

  She’ll never be mine.

  “Come on, man, we’re not that bad. Stop sulking around like you hate having us here.” Ryan punches my arm. Even he can’t stand my moody ass nowadays.

  “That’s not what this is about,” I grumble and leave it at that. It’s cool to have him as my brother, because he is anyway, but her as my sister?

  My chest burns again, just as it’s done ever since our parents told us they were getting married. Luckily, it was a small civil ceremony and not some lavish deal. Not that I was there anyway. I refused to go.

  I really would’ve taken Kira away then.

  Fuck, I miss her. It hurts so much I can barely stand it.

  “Sorry, it’s really not you,” I tell Ryan.

  His gaze flickers to Kira’s door across the hall from my own, to the spot I’ve been staring at. I know his observing ass has seen the change. He sits back and watches, but never asks. Maybe he does know how I feel about her.

  What he doesn’t know is that I kissed her, multiple times, and that I was hours away from talking to him about dating her when the world blew up.

  “She’s been locked up in there for weeks.” I continue to stare at the door.

  Doesn’t help my case that she saw me fucking Jen.

  Doesn’t help I was imagining it was her.

  The look on her face . . .

  I rub the damn spot on my chest, a pain made worse when I remember her text message. Worst fucking timing ever. I didn’t even see it until after Jen left, and it made sense why Kira was in the tree, the one she’s climbed so many times. I don’t think she’ll ever climb it again. The sudden urge to cut it down enters my mind—it’s nothing but a constant reminder of that night and the remaining hope I had that was crushed.

  I wish I’d gotten that last moment with her, the one she asked for, the one she was coming over for, but I also don’t think I could’ve handled having her only once. Knowing it wouldn’t happen again after taking her virginity would kill me.

  Pushing her away is the hardest damn thing I’ve ever done in my life, because it kills me, too. I needed to fuck, to forget the shit storm my life had become, and forget my sunshine. I never meant for her to see that, never wanted it, but it was good that she did, in a way. It’ll keep her away from me, from the arms that want to pull her in and the lips that want to kiss her.

  “She’ll come out eventually. It’s a big change on all of us.” His lips move into a thin line. “Though the last time I saw her like this was when Dad died.”

  Contemplative fucker. Way to twist the damn knife. I already feel like shit. I know she’s hiding from me, that’s why she won’t come out. She doesn’t want to see me, be reminded of what I did.

  The wedding would’ve separated us naturally, but I did it by force, tearing what we had, and would’ve had, to shreds.

  I destroyed our friendship in the process.

  I destroyed any and all incarnations of us.

  And, although I know it had to be done, I can’t help feeling like it’s going to haunt me forever. Like one day, it’ll end up biting me in the ass harder than it already has.

  Ryan pushes off the wall. “I’m gonna make some lunch. Coming?”

  “Not hungry.” I continue to stare at her door, and in my periphery, he does the same.

  “So you’re going to continue to pout like a bitch?”

  I glare at him. “Shut up.”

  “Fine.” He turns back into the hall. “Oh, we going to Kyle’s party this weekend?”

  “Yeah, sounds good.” The best way to distract myself from all this shit is to fuck someone, and the parties are the best place to hook up.

  “Which one this week?”

  My lip twitches. “Thinking I need a little Aubrey time.”

  Ryan rolls his eyes. “Fucking entourage of girls ready to spread for you.”

  Sex with them is meaningless. A way to get off. There’s only one I want, one I crave, and I can’t have her.

  “One to talk, man. Amy practically humps your leg every time you see her, and you’re stuck on Dana.”

  He shrugs. “If I sleep with Amy, she’ll think there’s something there and want something more. I don’t like her. I like Dana.”

  I haven’t figured out what’s holding him back. “But you haven’t asked her out.”

  His lip twitches and he hangs his head. “No, but I’m working up to it, unlike you.”

  I furrow my brow. He really has no idea. “You know I don’t do relationships.” I try to make my voice even so he doesn’t suspect.

  I don’t do relationships, but I would’ve done anything, been anything, for Kira and only Kira.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He shakes his head. “Go bust a nut so you’ll stop being an asshat, and meet me in the basement for some PS3. Halo if you’re good.”

  I nod, but know getting off won’t put me in any better of a mood.

  After he heads off, I fall back on my bed, throw the pillow over my face and yell into it. How can I live like this? It’s so wrong and cruel. I want to rewind to our time under the tree, tell her I want her to be mine. Say fuck you to our parents and run away.

  Our parents delivered the first blow, and I delivered the final one. Now, we’re broken, and I don’t know if we can ever be fixed. I’ll never forget the feel of her warmth, from her smile and her body pressed into mine. The soft caress from her soothing touch.

  Then there’s nothing but the memory of me pinning her to the wall, seeing my mark on her skin, kissing her lips, and the promise of happiness and desire to come.

  A few minutes of lying there and I decide to take Ryan’s suggestion, because all I’ve done is think about Kira, and now my dick is hard. I tug at it, adjusting it in my pants as I walk next door to what used to be my bathroom and is now a communal one. A quick shower should help.

  I scowl at the closed door, and slam my hand on it. “Come on, Ry, I can’t bust it with you in there.” The door swings open and it’s not Ryan in front of me. My eyes go wide at the object causing my cock to tent my pants. “Kira . . . ”

  She glares up at me. Fuck. I’ve missed it. Missed those hazel eyes, even when they're like now, staring daggers at me. “Move.”

  I realize she can’t get past me and grab hold of the frame, trapping her inside the bathroom.

  What am I doing?

  “Asshole, I said move.”

  The way I’m positioned is bad for the both of us. I’m hard for her, and she’s standing in front of me in her little shorts and tank. She’s angry and hissing,making her more kitten-like and me more lion-like wanting to pounce on her.

  “Not until I get my birthday present.” I don’t know where that came from, but I’m pretty sure I’m out of my mind with want.

  Her eyes widen before narrowing on me, her arms crossing her chest. Does she know how that pops her boobs out? My dick twitches and I lick my lips. How long have I resisted touching them? What good has that done me?

  None.

  “Why would I get you something?”

  I can’t even joke about being her brother, because I’m not. I can’t even think about that. It’s just a stupid legal title. I’m not her brother.

  “I turned eighteen yesterday and you didn’t even wish me happy birthday. That hurts.”

  She looks away from me, refusing to reply, to say anything, to interact at all.

  I want to grab her, shake her, make her acknowledge my fucking existence. Life without her and her smart mouth is wrong.

  I’m not as strong as I thought I was.

  I’m so fucking miserable I can’t even stand myself.

  The only one who can make it better won’t even look at me. All I want is to wrap my arms around her and hug her. Simple touch. I miss it so much my skin crawls, begging, itching for any contact wit
h her.

  I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without her.

  “Happy birthday,” she all but mutters, hoping that will appease me and I’ll let her pass.

  “Brayden.” My voice cracks. Why is this so hard? “Say my name.”

  She lifts her head, empty eyes meeting mine. “Happy birthday, brother.”

  Fuck!

  The word slashes me in the chest.

  She won’t even let her voice caress me if I can’t get her flesh to. I want to hear my name roll off her tongue with happiness like it used to, with the lust I'd heard from her long ago, but bitterness greets me instead.

  Everything is fucked up. Wrong. This isn’t how things were supposed to be. She was supposed to be my date to prom.

  She was supposed to be my girl.

  I reach out and grab hold of her arms, pushing her back and against the wall. My lip twitches into a snarl.

  “I’m not your fucking brother!”

  I lean down and smash my lips to hers. Proving a point, taking what I need . . . whatever. I’m desperate and harsh and needy and so messed up.

  Her nails dig into my arms and she tries to push me away. I growl into her lips, pressing harder.

  Why did she have to provoke me?

  The fight dies in her as her tongue laps against mine. Tiny whimpers and moans cross between us, and I grind into her until I know she can feel how hard I am against her. Small fingers tangle into my shirt, my hair, and we’re lost.

  She tastes so sweet I never want to stop. I can’t stop. My hips rock into her as I nip my way down her jaw, her breath coming out harsh next to my ear, and it’s the most erotic music I’ve ever heard. I suck on the spot behind her ear, hoping to leave another mark. I groan when I see the purplish spot forming.

  “Kitty, my kitty.”

  She freezes in my arms and before I can ask what’s wrong, her foot stomps down on mine. I release her, cursing as I grab my toes, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

  She takes the opportunity to push me back against the sink and runs out the door, back to her room. “Asshole!” she yells before slamming her door.

  I stand there for a second as it stews. Frustration explodes as I reach out and throw the door shut as hard as I can; my fists pound onto it as my chest constricts.

  Her taste lingers on my lips. I want her, but we’re so fucked up. There’s only a few months until college starts and I can get the hell out of her presence.

  If I can last that long.

  I can’t live like this—so close to what I want and unable to have it.

  Space will help. We’ll forget all about it, all about each other, and the shit I’m feeling will disappear.

  Please, let it all disappear.

  July 9, 2012

  The summer has been rough, harder than I thought it would be. I’ve kept myself busy. Between working, getting ready for college, and partying my ass off, there hasn’t been much time to think. I won’t let myself.

  I’ve fucked almost everything that came my way, trying to purge my system, to get my body in line with the program. To try and forget because I’m at my limit. I can’t take it anymore. The silence, the hurt oozing off Kira, the grating but necessary distance that I put between us.

  “How am I going to do this?” Ryan asks as he throws another box into my car.

  “Do what?”

  “Get through the rest of the summer without my wingman?”

  I smirk at him, throwing my arm over his shoulder as we walk back into the house for the next load. “Just look at it this way, man. More pussy for you.”

  He shakes his head. “Not the same. This is the first summer in seven years my best friend won’t be around.”

  “Are you getting all girly and needy on me?”

  His gaze narrows, then his hands slam into my side, pushing me away. “Fuck you.”

  “Wrong. You’re supposed to be saying that to Dana. You gotta be more seductive, though.”

  Ryan looks away, his face turning red.

  “Dude, are you blushing? Shit, you are, aren’t you?”

  “Shut up!”

  “I thought you just wanted to do her. You’re that into her?” I grab the door handle and push, still looking back, waiting for his response.

  “Bro, I know you don’t think so, but someday, you’ll find a girl you’ll want more . . . ” he trails off.

  I follow his gaze to the stairs, and the answer to his unfinished sentence is taking her last few steps, landing in the entry. Kira’s hair is still wet, cheeks flushed from her shower, and she’s wearing skimpy clothes designed to give me another hard-on. She looks up at us, her gaze flickering to me for a second before settling fully on Ryan. The knife that’s shoved in my chest twists, hopefully for the last time.

  This is what we both need. Space. Time. Distance.

  To forget about what could have been, what we feel, and settle into the new relationship reality has dealt.

  “About time you showed up, runt.” Ryan walks to his sister, jabbing her in the stomach, earning him a couple of well placed swats. “Of course, it’s after the car is mostly packed.”

  Her brow scrunches for a moment, then she nods, remembering the conversation over dinner the other night. “Yeah, my master plan.” She gives a half-hearted smile.

  Ryan shakes his head and walks toward the kitchen. “Always getting out of the manual labor. There’s still a few bags left for you.”

  I start toward the stairs, but stop next to her. Her downcast eyes are locked on the floor, refusing to look at me.

  “Kira, I . . . ” My jaw clenches, and I swallow. “Have a good summer. Don’t take too much shit from Ry.”

  She nods and turns to go in the direction Ryan went. “Have a safe drive. See you.”

  Fingers flex at my side as I watch her walk away. No hug. No “I’ll miss you.”

  Nothing but misery.

  After loading the last few bags, I give Ryan a hug, Kira nowhere in sight.

  “See you in six weeks, roomie. Purdue, here we come!”

  “Text you later.” I take one last look at the house, one last peek for her, and climb in.

  Leaving shouldn’t be this hard, and I can’t keep from glancing at my rearview mirrors, hoping, wishing to see Kira running out after me. All that reflects is Ryan giving a last wave, then heading in.

  My skin is crawling again, begging, dying for the simple touch that can make it all go away. I crank the volume of the radio, blasting some Linkin Park, and make my way across town.

  The hard, steady beats keep my mind off Kira as best they can. When I pull into my mom’s apartment complex, a moving van is out front, blocking her allotted parking spots and forcing me to borrow one of the neighbors.

  Two guys are loading a dresser into the truck, and inside her apartment, Mom’s wrapping something in newspaper, stuffing it into a box. The room is looking pretty bare, most of the furniture gone along with some of the boxes. Mom’s black hair is kind of wild, blue eyes large with bags under them, and I wonder how many cups of coffee she’s consumed.

  “Someone call for a big, strong guy?”

  Her head snaps up and a smile lights up her makeup-less features. “Brayden!” The object drops from her hand into the box, and she steps around the wall of miscellaneous things blocking her, arms open wide. They wrap around my waist and I pull her in for a hug, kissing the top of her head as she pulls away.

  When I was a kid, she always seemed so tall, but she’s almost a foot shorter than me now.

  “Still in your scrubs? What time did you get off?”

  She swats her hand back and forth as she continues her packing. “There was a huge crash on the interstate right when I was leaving. Driver fell asleep, drove through the divide, right into a semi that jack-knifed and fell trying to swerve, causing the cars behind him . . .”

  “The domino effect? On your last day?” Un-fucking-believable. “What time did you get home?”

  She sighs and lo
oks up. “About an hour before the movers arrived.”

  I shake my head. “Mom, you can’t drive to Indianapolis like this. You need sleep.”

  She scoffs. “They’ve already loaded the beds. No sleep until tonight.”

  I move over to the corner of the room and pick up where I left off the other day. “It’s a two-hour drive. Do you want to end up like the people that came into the ER?”

  She gives me a small pout, accentuating her exhaustion. “Well, what the hell else am I supposed to do?”

  I wrack my brain, trying to come up with anything, someplace she can get a couple of hours of sleep. Outside, her Ford Escape sits in the shade, blocked in by the movers.

  Stepping forward and reaching out, I take the plate from her hand. “You’re going to grab a pillow and crawl into the back of your car. I’ll take care of everything in here.”

  “Brayden.” She shakes her head, giving me the “that isn’t going to happen” look I’ve seen so many times before.

  “Now, Mom. Leave the packing to me. Go take a nap.”

  “When did you get so bossy?”

  “I’m a teenager. I know everything, remember? And I kind of want you around for a while, so go. Sleep.”

  The fight leaves her, but not before trying one more time. I throw a blanket at her, stopping her before she starts. With a roll of her eyes, she picks her purse up from the floor and the stack of pillows next to it, then heads out. I keep watch, making sure she climbs into the back seat.

  It takes two hours to finish boxing and loading everything up. The movers are locking up the door to the truck, getting ready to start out.

  The sun has moved, now shining down on Mom’s car. The windows are open, and when I peek in, she’s fast asleep, curled up in a pile of pillows with her earbuds in. I hate to wake her, but it’s almost noon and we have to get moving.

  She downs an energy drink as we walk through her apartment, making sure everything has been grabbed, then we load the fragile items and extras into her car. Once I’m convinced she’s good to drive, we head out.

  A couple hours later and a stop for lunch, we arrive at her new place, a rental. It’s a nice townhouse in Carmel, a suburb north of Indianapolis and near where her new job is.