Be My Downfall

by Lyla Payne

  “Strangely enough, that’s pretty close to the truth,” I interjected wryly.

  “Excellent. It should be easier to remember, then.” She turned her piercing gaze on Kennedy. “It doesn’t have to be an unnamed perp, Miss Gilbert. Senator Wright made that explicitly clear. Since you will be swearing a statement that Toby here didn’t lay a violent finger on you, he’s happy to help you prosecute the asshole who did.”

  Kennedy bit her lip and shook her head. “No. It got out of hand, but it wasn’t exactly his fault.”

  My stomach lurched. Hurt me, Wright. Someone else hadn’t been shocked by that request, as I had, but excited. In my mind, that meant he deserved, at the very least, the shit scared out of him by a visit from the cops.

  Miriam gave her a long look, and a chance to change her mind, then went on without any judgment in her voice. “Fine. Here’s the statement for Miss Gilbert to sign. Toby, you’ll give a brief statement for the press as we leave—it’s right here, memorize it—and that’s it. Don’t take any questions and try to stay out of trouble.”

  I didn’t bother telling her I hadn’t actually gotten into trouble, because as far as she was concerned, her being sent down here meant that I had. Miriam gave us both a sheet of paper and a pen, then left to go rustle up a cup of “shit-ass hospital coffee”.

  “Sorry about that.” I shrugged, feeling a little sheepish. “The whole politics thing can be a bit hard to take if you’re not used to it.”

  “That was insane. Was that a woman or some kind of hurricane?”

  “Miriam’s good people. She’s been with my dad almost seven years now. But yeah, she’s pretty no-nonsense.”

  “She loves your family. You can tell. Your dad must be one of the rare non-asshole congressmen.” Kennedy gave me a hesitant smile.

  “My dad can be as big an asshole as the next guy, but he loves his job and he takes it seriously. I don’t have any complaints about my childhood.” I smiled back, sensing that might be hard for her to hear. Then again, from what Ruby had told me, it seemed like Kennedy’s parents were loving and nice. She should remember that, instead of how she lost them.

  Easy for me to say, I was sure.

  “That’s nice. You’re like, the first person I’ve met at Whitman who doesn’t have some kind of daddy or mommy issue. Of course, that just means whatever your issue is, it’s more interesting.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Well, you see Dr. Porter voluntarily for one thing. For another, even though you’re friendly with pretty much everyone, you don’t have close friends. I think you and I are more alike than I realized, even if this whole scenario with Miriam makes me feel like I stepped into an alternate reality.”

  “You don’t have to sign the non-disclosure if you don’t want to. I trust you.”

  “That’s sweet, but I have no intention of crossing your dad’s Category Five. It’s fine. The last thing I want to do is hurt you or your family, Wright. You’ve been too nice as it is.”

  “And maybe you want to keep kissing me?”

  Her serious expression morphed into a stunning smile. “Maybe.”

  I leaned over her, drawing her intoxicating mouth back to mine, running my tongue over her bottom lip in an attempt to taste more of her, to communicate something, maybe apologize for the complications of befriending me.

  “Okay, seriously. Can you two please stop making out until you’re in private? Some nurse snaps a smartphone picture of you going at it like horny teenagers at prom and we’ve just made ourselves liars.” Miriam scowled, a hand on her hip.

  Kennedy and I shared a private smile before I sat back and we both read our statements. Mine was four sentences, easy to memorize, and Kennedy signed both of her sheets without reading them. She did take the copies Miriam pulled out of her briefcase, though, folding them into a square and setting them on the table beside the bed.

  “Toby, come with me. Miss Gilbert, the doctor says you’re cleared to go, so please get dressed and meet us in the hallway. Your roommate brought a hairbrush and makeup, and there are cameras. Fair warning.”

  Kennedy paled.

  “Can’t we get away with sneaking out? She’s been through a lot, and this isn’t her world. We don’t have to parade her out there. I can do it alone.”

  “I can’t force you, Miss Gilbert, but Toby has done you a huge solid these past several days. It would go a long way toward solidifying our story if you’re out there at his side.” Kennedy didn’t reply right away, conflicting emotions pulling her expression in different directions, and Miriam grabbed my hand and pulled me from the room.

  “Toby, come on. This is not the time for you to start acting your age.”

  “You realize I actually am a horny teenager. Or I was, until last summer.”

  “You’ve never acted like one in public until five minutes ago. What is it about this girl?” She sighed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “We’re all worried about you. You don’t have anything to atone for. If she needs help, it’s not your job to save her.”

  I ran my hand through my hair, feeling a couple days of grease stick to my fingers. I needed a shower. The inclination to lie tickled the back of my throat, but this was Miriam. She might well be some kind of truth-detecting autobot.

  “It’s not that. At least, it’s not only that. Yeah, she triggers some kind of hero reaction in me, but I also like her. She’s funny, she doesn’t blow smoke, and she makes me fucking feel shit.”

  “It could be because alcohol is a notorious filter-buster.” She smiled, softening the bad joke. “I’ve been wondering when you would meet someone who broke through those emotional walls, kid. It’s not exactly convenient that it’s a girl who is going to make my life a living hell, but I know you can’t choose who makes you feel the fucking shit.”

  She winked, then checked her cell phone when it buzzed. “Gotta take this. You guys wait for me here, okay?”

  Miriam stepped down the hall. The interaction with her exhausted me.

  “I make you fucking feel shit, huh?”

  Kennedy stood in the doorway behind me, dressed in a modest enough outfit. I said silent thanks to Blair’s good judgment even as I longed to see more of the creamy skin hidden by a snug pair of jeans and a Whitman U T-shirt. The university wasn’t going to love our appearance on television regarding a campus incident with Kennedy wearing their logo, but Whitman had a better public relations staff than half of the politicians on the Hill. They’d be able to handle it.

  Heat stung my cheeks at her overhearing my admission. The relationship playbook, at least as I’d observed watching the bumbling efforts of my frat brothers, did not include declarations of feelings before going on a single real date.

  Too late now.

  I tried to hide my discomfort with a shrug. She stared at me, an inscrutable expression darkening her blue-green eyes, but before either of us could figure out what to say, Miriam got off her phone call.

  “What did you decide?” She directed the question to Kennedy.

  “I’ll do it. I just have to stand there, right?” She looked a little green and a lot pale.

  I moved to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist, surprised when she let me take some of her weight. She reminded me again of a wild horse, all nervous energy and wobbly legs. “You don’t have to do this, strawberry.”

  “It’s fine. Let’s just get it over with and get the fuck out of here.”

  “Remember classy language in front of the press,” Miriam lectured.

  “Got it.”

  We stopped at the desk so Kennedy could sign her discharge paperwork and pick up a prescription for painkillers from the nurse, then the three of us headed out the front entrance of the hospital. The Florida sun beat down, merciless in an endless blue April sky. Heat waves shimmered above the pavement and our escape, a black Lincoln Town Car, idled a few feet away at the curb. Between it and us waited a handful of reporters, probably the ones low enough on the totem pole to draw
the politics beat. No matter what people thought, in this country, political news that wasn’t outright scandalous ranked pretty low on the public interest scale.

  There weren’t more than twenty outlets, maybe forty reporters and cameramen milling around the parking lot. They snapped to attention, lights going on and microphones coming out, as soon as they recognized either Miriam or me.

  The shouts of Toby, tell us what happened and Mr. Wright, is this your girlfriend and What happened the other night between the two of you and Miss Gilbert, will you be pressing chargers against the senator’s son mingled in the air and in my ears until I could never have answered a single one of them.

  Miriam held up her hand and they quieted. She grabbed the reporter from the biggest news outlet, a national CNN, and pulled her over. “We’ll be issuing a statement and taking no questions. Miss Gilbert is not pressing charges against anyone, and has made it explicitly clear that Toby Wright was not her attacker.”

  She nodded at me and I took a deep breath, wishing I’d had time to take a shower. Not because I cared how I looked in front of these vultures, but because it made me feel more like a human being prepared to face the world.

  “Two nights ago I received a call from my very good friend, Miss Kennedy Gilbert, stating that she was hurt and needed my help. I went to her and saw that she required medical attention, then brought her here. I stayed at her side, because she’s a dear friend and has no family nearby. Thank you.”

  I put my arm back around Kennedy’s waist as Miriam and the driver strong-armed the throng so we could slide into the backseat of the car. The reporters were still shouting questions, all of which I ignored, but they definitely got more than one photo of my arm around Kennedy. The speculation would be fierce for a few days, but I couldn’t imagine it not dying off, given that there wasn’t a real story here.

  Miriam leaned in to say goodbye, giving me a tight nod that said I’d done fine, then the driver slammed the door, ran around, and pulled us away.

  Kennedy had a hand on my arm, and it caught my attention when it trembled. I covered it with my own, squeezing and forcing her to look at me. Tears shone in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” I ran my fingers over the healing cuts on her face and down her arms, but her only response was to lean into me. I pulled her into a gentle hug, not wanting to press against her bruises. “Tell me, strawberry. Trust me, please.”

  “We’re barely even friends and I’m ruining your life.”

  “What are you talking about? This isn’t even a blip on the radar. I’ve been dealing with this my entire life. I got a speeding ticket the week I turned sixteen and Miriam had to make a statement to the press. They’re vultures, but I promise none of this is ruining anyone’s life.”

  She didn’t say anything for a long time. I rolled down the privacy partition long enough to ask the driver to stop at a local pharmacy so we could fill her prescription. He would run in and conduct the entire transaction, because Miriam would kill me if anyone saw Kennedy and I together running errands.

  The car idled in the CVS parking lot before Kennedy moved. Despite the cool temperature of the Town Car, the heat traded between our pressed-together bodies made me sweaty and just…aware. When her lips pressed against my throat, her tongue flicking out to taste me, my body responded with a swiftness I thought I’d left behind in high school.

  My eyes closed of their own accord and my left hand tangled in that gorgeous red hair. I held still, reveling in the feeling of her mouth as it blazed a trail along my jaw and her tongue found my ear. The heat between us increased as she slid a hand under the hem of my T-shirt, rubbing my abs before dipping into the waistband of my shorts.

  It was hard to breathe and even harder to think with no blood in my brain. My other hand moved on its own, sliding under her shirt and up the smooth, hot skin of her back. My fingers ran into the clasp on her bra and snapped it loose in one movement, and a moment later I had a heavy breast in my palm, fingertips playing with the nipple until she groaned into my neck and climbed onto my lap, her heat rubbing against the hardness trying to escape my shorts.

  Instead of thanking Blair for her sensible choice in clothes, like I’d done before we’d faced the reporters, I cursed the fact that getting Kennedy’s jeans off in the car would be a freaking job. I focused on what I did have access to, enjoying every inch of her chest with one hand and using the other to tip her head so I could explore her mouth with the kind of fervor I wanted to plunge into the rest of her.

  When she whimpered again, it sounded more like pain than excitement. The sound snapped me out of my hormone fog and I pulled away, dropping both hands to her waist. “Are you okay? What hurts?”

  She shook her head, eyes glazed with a dazed look that mirrored how I felt. Her cheeks were an impossibly attractive shade of peach, and watching her chest heave as her eyes fell to my mouth made me throb underneath her.

  Still, when she leaned in for more I pulled back. “This can wait.”

  “You just grabbed a bruise. I’m okay.”

  “I know, but….” I trailed off, my brain still struggling to achieve coherence.

  “I’m not a sex addict, Wright. You said no drinking, not no sex.”

  “I’m not sure you and I could share the same space without ending up in bed together, strawberry. I’m just saying we can wait until you’re not quite so fragile.”

  She stiffened at the word and tried to pull away, but I tightened my fingers on her hips. “No. You can’t do that. I know you’re strong, but I also think you’ve been hurt and in the hospital. Let me take care of you.”

  My heart slowed down and I breathed easier when she relaxed, then I tensed up again when she took her time getting off my lap, dragging legs and palms across my crotch until I had to bite back a groan.

  “We’ll have to discuss exactly what type of caregiving I require.”

  She gave me a wicked grin and this time I let the groan loose. I should have realized she was going to make this anything but easy. Then again, every last inch of me, including my aching boner, would have been disappointed if she had.

  Chapter 15

  The make-out session that had gotten way out of control seemed to tire Kennedy, and she slumped against me, pretty much passed out by the time we got to the SEA house. I had the driver take us around back, to the half-hidden basement entrance I used when I needed privacy, and all but carried her down to my room.

  I helped her into my bed, thankful the room had space for me to shove two standard-issue twins together, giving me a full-sized bed, even if it had a hard spot in the middle. Her eyes drooped and she tried to struggle upright, unbuttoning her jeans.

  I swatted her hands away, undoing her pants and sliding them over her hips and off her ankles. They bared a pair of sexy-as-fuck black lacy boy short underwear, and I looked away before I earned the most epic set of blue balls ever.

  “I’ve never had a guy take my pants off but not climb on top of me.”

  The look on her face said it wasn’t a joke. It said she was inches from breaking, and I knew she probably didn’t want me to watch.

  “Are you okay in that T-shirt or do you want one of my shirts?” It came out gruffer than I’d meant it to, but for some reason my own emotions boiled close to the surface.

  “One of yours please.”

  “Do you want some shorts?”

  “No,” she whispered, sounding unsure of herself. It sounded odd. Like someone else.

  I grabbed one of my old high school baseball shirts out of the drawer. She struggled to get out of the tight girly T-shirt she had on, wincing more than once when she moved against the bruises around her ribs. Despite my tenuous grip on my hormones, I leaned over and grabbed the bottom hem, slipping it over her head.

  The bra I’d undone in the car was back in place—black lace that matched the underwear, but not the barely there, see-through one I’d removed when we’d had sex weeks ago.

  Do not think about havin
g sex with her.

  It didn’t help a whole lot, and even though my lower half protested, I brushed her strawberry waves off her shoulders and bent down to kiss away the lost expression on her face. Kennedy clearly had no idea how to handle someone caring for her but not expecting anything in return. Surely her mother and father had done so when she was small, but how long had it been since she’d let herself remember something like that?

  The fact that no one had done it since made me want to hold her and never let go.

  Neither of us deepened the kiss. Her lips trembled against mine but held on as her hands moved into my hair, keeping our faces connected.

  We broke away a few minutes or an hour later—I seriously had no idea—and I helped her into my too-big T-shirt and under the covers.

  “You good¸ strawberry?”

  She nodded, looking ninety percent given over to sleep. The exhausting nature of the morning coupled with the painkillers she’d taken when we got home had done her in. I watched until her breathing steadied, terrified by the enormity of the pressure in my chest.

  Kennedy wasn’t mine. I had to remember that, or this whole thing would destroy me in ways I couldn’t guess—the way Trent’s leaving had, but maybe worse because I was walking into this quagmire with my eyes wide open.

  I was tired, too, but worried that even curling up on the other side of the bed would disturb her. My homework for the week had been light, and I’d finished it all during free time in my afternoon schedule. I decided to take advantage of the quiet moment to work on my script for the film department seniors. It was a big deal if they picked your screenplay to produce as their class project. The last several years the finished product had been picked up by college networks, and one five years ago had done really well on the festival circuit.