Hurt slashed across his face.
“Zip me up.” She sucked in a deep breath.
He collected her hair, brushing his finger against her neck. Her skin tingled with his touch. Her mind reeled. Maybe Mandy wouldn’t remember any of it when she woke up in the morning. Even if she did, maybe she would realize Ben - or Roger, or whatever the hell his name was - wasn’t the right guy for her in the first place, and they could laugh about it in a week or two. A dark mental cloud rolled in. Or maybe she would hate Brooke for the rest of her life. After all, Mandy was going to give up her virginity to him. Brooke’s shoulders slumped. She was sure Mandy was out there balling about it right now. The entire party would come to a complete standstill and offer their sincere, somewhat buzzed, condolences. And when the time finally came, they would slowly turn their heads as Brooke crept from the bedroom with her tail between her legs, shamefaced and disgraced. Nowhere to hide.
Ben zipped her up and she turned to face him. “If I were you, I’d go out the window.”
He glanced at the bedroom window. “What about my friend?”
“Oh, you mean your fake friend, Todd?” she whispered, resting her hands on her hips.
“His name is Hicks and he’s a real friend.”
“I’ll tell him you’re out at your car. The one you will be leaving in as fast as possible.”
“We’re on bikes.”
She stared dully at him.
“Motorcycles.”
“I don’t care, you idiot!”
“Come with me.”
Brooke tightened her glare. “Why’d he call you Dragon anyway? The truth this time.”
Ben rolled his shirt sleeve up, exposing a green dragon coiling around his forearm.
She crinkled her nose. “Is your entire body tattooed?”
“No.” He pulled the sleeve back down. “Just the good parts.”
“And who tattoos their dick anyway? What are you fourteen?”
A sheepish smile stole across his face. He opened his mouth to answer but she cut him off instead.
“Let me guess: you were drunk.”
A loose shrug lifted his shoulders. “Maybe a little.”
“Seems like you make your best decisions that way.” She pointed to the window. “Go.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going out there.”
“You’re crazy. You can’t go out there! They’ll tear you to pieces.”
The music suddenly turned off and they both turned to the door with matching lumps in their throats.
“Aw hell,” he muttered. “I wouldn’t go out there if I were you.”
“I have to. I live here,” she whispered.
“I’d wait till everyone leaves.”
Brooke started pacing the room. “I can’t believe this is happening. How could I be so stupid? This isn’t like me. I’m not like this. I don’t do this kind of stuff.”
“Come with me?”
His words snapped her from her frenzied rambling. She jerked her chin toward the window. “Why are you still here?”
“You can hop on the back of my bike.”
Her stoic response spoke volumes. She pushed him toward the window, ignoring the rock hard abs against her palms.
Ben looked the window over while Brooke slid it open and popped the screen. “Can I at least get your number?”
“Are you high?” She shoved him through the square hole. “Don’t answer that. Just leave!”
“But,” he said, lifting a leg through the window, “I think we really have something here and, as responsible adults, owe it to ourselves to investigate further.”
“You call this responsible?” she scoffed, stiff-arming him out the window.
Ben pushed back, the window sill perilously close to splitting his balls in half. “Maybe we should do some research on it. Ya know, go out to dinner, see a show, pour over some microfilm at the library. See what’s up.”
“There is no we. That’s what’s up.” Brooke gave him one last shove that sent him tumbling into a bed of wilted hostas. A loud oomph burst from his lips when he hit the ground. She slammed the window shut and locked it as he scrambled to his feet.
Ben opened his mouth to take one last stab at changing her mind, but placed a hand on the window instead. The look in his eyes gave Brooke a moment of pause, her gut feeding her nothing but lies. When the moment passed, she clenched her jaw and yanked the curtain shut, leaving her alone with her unpleasant thoughts in Mandy’s room. She turned to face the door, the one leading out to the party, heart beating a million miles an hour. She took a languid step closer. And then another. And another. And then something broke out in the living room. Something that sounded like glass.
She froze like a startled possum and held her breath, staring at the door through wide eyes, blood pumping thickly in her temples. She waited for Mandy and company to come bursting in at any second, brandishing pitchforks and torches in their angry fists.
Somebody screamed.
No, not somebody. Mandy.
More glass shattered. Soft murmurs of consolation floated beneath the crack in the door, a dark feeling blooming in the pit of Brooke’s stomach. She glanced back to the window and let the option run its short lived course in her mind. If she hurried she might still be able to catch him. She released the breath and buried her face in her hands knowing she could run, but could never hide. Not for long. She pulled her face away and quietly stomped her boot one time. A tear rolled down her cheek as her hand found the cool glass knob. It was quiet now. After a few flip-flopping seconds – spent looking between the window and the door – Brooke shut her eyes and took a steadying breath that lifted her bosom.
“Shit,” she whispered, turning the knob with a sweaty hand.
Chapter Four
Outside of a fresh coat of yellow paint and white trim, the three bedroom/two bath ranch looked the same. Same meticulously trimmed bushes, same porch swing dangling from a tall oak, and the same extraneous amount of Halloween decorations her dad went overboard on year after year. The thought of Halloween now made Brooke sick to her stomach. She had singlehandedly ruined her favorite holiday until the end of time and would never forgive herself for it.
A forlorn sigh escaped her. If she had to come back to this place, she wished it was when the porch swing used to be a tire swing. Her dad pushing her higher and higher while making cracks about the tree branch breaking at any second. Running through the sprinkler with her friends or planting flowers with her mom and sister until their knees were dark with dirt. Good times. But not like this. Not now.
A low groan rattled from her chest as she shut off the red Ford Escape. The suburban silence settled in around her, thick and heavy with the smell of burning leaves in the air. She wondered how she would ever explain herself. Hating herself for having to explain anything.
Finally, Brooke got out and retrieved a box from the backseat, using her leg to shut the door. Her eyes dipped inside the box in her arms, glumly processing what her life now boiled down to: a purple iPod, a green hairdryer, flat iron, her Kindle Fire with every Sylvia Day book ever written. Makeup, lotions, and her favorite red heels and yellow purse now defined her. It left a bad taste in her mouth. She traipsed up the driveway, feeling like she had gone back in time, passing fake tombstones in the yard as she went, the cardboard box nearly as heavy as her legs.
Balancing the box on one knee, Brooke found her keys and unlocked the front door. The smell of lemon Pledge and sausage greeted her as she stepped inside and hip-checked the door shut. Her parents’ house broke her heart all over again. Not only had she lost a wonderful friendship, but she had lost her freedom as well. No more cat naps whenever she felt like. No more pouring a glass of wine at two in the afternoon because she had the day off and half a mind to. And no more cranking her iPod dock to eleven while getting ready for a night out with her girls. What was left of her girls. The way everyone had moved on with college and careers and babies made her feel
left behind. They were growing up and she was growing down.
“What are you doing here?”
Brooke’s head snapped down the hallway leading to the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”
Evy shrugged, a copy of Cosmopolitan in her hand. “Laundry while mom and dad are at church.”
“Where’s your car?”
“Richie dropped me off. He’s got paintball, but we’re going to lunch when he’s done if you wanna come.”
“No thanks.” Brooke deposited her prized possessions on a glass sofa table, where her parents set their car keys and mail just inside the front door.
Evy shifted in her lavender heels and stood taller. “What’s in the box?”
Brooke blew a loose strand of chocolate colored hair from her face. “Everything I can’t live without for the next few days.”
“Uh-oh, what happened?”
“I don’t feel like talking about it right now. I’m tired and hungover.”
A bright smile dug into Evy’s rosy cheeks. “Then you have to come try my latest invention. It’s perfect for hangovers!” She headed for the heart of the house. “Came to me in a dream last night.”
Brooke grudgingly followed her into the sunlit kitchen where the smell of grease mixed with pancake batter and a Glad Plug-In hidden beneath a breakfast table.
“Here,” Evy said, holding up what looked like a corndog. “Dip it in that syrup.” She nodded to a small bowl of maple syrup resting on the island table centered in the spacious room.
Brooke took it by the stick and held it up, twisting it in the light. “A corndog?”
“It’s not a corndog. It’s a sausage link deep-fried in waffle batter.” A proud smile made her glow. “I call em Waffle Dogs.”
Brooke’s eyes slowly traveled back to her sister, her forehead wrinkling. “This is what you dream about at night?”
“Just try it.”
She set it back on the plate with the others and brushed her hands together. “Sorry, I can’t put anything in my mouth that even remotely resembles a penis right now.”
Evy tucked her dark hair behind an ear and set the magazine down. “What’d you do now?”
Brooke dropped heavily into a tall chair and rested her elbows on the island, massaging her temples with both hands, unsuccessfully trying to rub away the guilt and pain. She felt Evy’s hand land on her shoulder and looked up.
“Spill it.”
Brooke gave her a brief look of dismissive contempt, then inhaled a deep breath and clung to it for dear life. “Mandy and I got into a fight over something stupid and she kicked me out.”
Evy’s eyebrows drew together. “What? Why?”
Her gaze drifted to the vacation photos covering the stainless steel fridge. “I can’t talk about it,” she said, bursting into tears. “I just lost one of my best friends and it’s all my fault.”
Evy frowned and scooped her little sister up into her arms, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Brooke buried her face in her neck, a clock softly ticking against the wall. Evy pulled back and held her out at arm’s length. “What happened?”
Brooke shook her head, shaking more tears loose.
Evy stared at her and finally sighed. “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure Mandy will get over it.”
Brooke wiped tears from her face. “I don’t think she will, even though it was all some horrible misunderstanding.” She looked up, a grim look upon her face. “I’m afraid she’ll never speak to me again.”
“That won’t happen.”
“I’m not so sure,” she replied, breaking down again. “I feel so awful!”
Evy rubbed Brooke’s arms. “Come stay with me for awhile and we’ll figure everything out. It’ll be fun. We’ll have a Sex and the City marathon and eat cupcakes until we get sick.” A comforting smile pulled on her lips. “Just like old times.”
Brooke lethargically shook her head. It was all her energy reserves would allow.
Evy glanced down the hallway to the box on the foyer table. “You want to move back in here?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Do mom and dad know you’re moving back in with them?”
Her bloodshot eyes rose to find Evy’s. “Not yet.”
Evy inhaled a slow breath through clenched teeth and poured Brooke some coffee before topping hers off. “Good luck with all that,” she said, sliding a black mug with Witch’s Brew printed across it in orange letters in front of Brooke.
Brooke studied the trails of steam rising into the air, her mind unable to stop replaying last night’s events in living color: the punch, masks and music, Mandy driving the porcelain bus, Ben’s scruffy face, the golden lasso, the questions, Ben’s face, the closet, his touch. But the thoughts always ended with the same image trumping them all: Mandy’s horrified expression. Brooke blinked it away and shook her head like she had just snapped out of a bad dream. Her chest sank with a longwinded sigh.
Evy watched, drumming her nails on the counter. “Just tell me what happened.”
Brooke turned to a pumpkin carved into Halloween Jack’s face, her eyes blurring it into an orange blob. “Mandy was thinking about giving her Big V up to this douchebag last night and I blew it for her.”
“How’d you manage to do that?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” she said, avoiding Evy’s eyes.
Evy shook her head. “You probably saved her from making a big mistake.”
“Oh, I think I did.”
“Mandy needs to be sure before doing something like that.”
“Like you were?” Brooke asked, seeing an opportunity to shift the focus to someone else.
“Yes, like I was. I knew Richie was the one for me and I’m glad I saved myself for him. We’ll always have that together.”
Brooke stared dully at her for a few seconds. “Aren’t you the least bit curious what it’s like with someone else?”
“Not really.”
“You need to try something different.”
Evy pressed her lips together. “For your information, we tried something different last night.”
Brooke arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “You finally had a threesome with his hot brother?”
“Ewe, no!”
“Anal?”
“God no! That is so gross.”
Brooke’s posture slumped. “Oh Evy, please don’t tell me you let him cum in your face. That is so demeaning.”
Evy laughed hard. “No, you idiot, I didn’t let him cum in my face.”
“Well, then what?”
She took a calming breath and held Brooke’s steady gaze, biting her bottom lip. “We…used an electric cock ring.”
Brooke went slack-jawed, her mind now completely bogged down. “You did what?”
“And I’m not even going to lie; when I first heard that buzzing I was terrified. But it was so…”
A loud knock at the front door made them jump. They slowly looked from the door to each other in the eerie stillness that followed.
“Probably Joe from next door,” Evy whispered. “Every time he sees me over here he stops by to borrow a rake or something.”
Brooke frowned. “He’s married.”
“Doesn’t stop him from looking at my chest.”
“I hate that. You know they’re storing up mental images to masturbate to later on. It’s a violation of my right to privacy.”
The knock came again.
Evy glanced at the door, drumming her red painted nails against the soapstone slab covering the island table. “You answer it.”
“No way. You answer it.”
“You live here now.”
“Temporarily.”
“So.”
Another knock, this one louder, drew their attention again.
“Let him keep knocking.”
Evy pressed her lips together. “He sees your car in the driveway.”
“I don’t care.”
The pounding came again, followed by multiple presses of the d
oorbell which vibrated Brooke’s head like a gong. An irritable sigh seeped from Evy as she went to the front door. Brooke watched her go, wondering how she could possibly stomach making small talk with someone she hadn’t seen since her father’s annual Memorial Day cookout at a time like this.
Evy pulled the large door back and stood silent.
“Hi Evy.”
Her voice hitched before speaking. “Tasha?”
“Is Brooke around?”
“Are you okay?”
Tasha looked down. “Oh yeah, it’s just a costume.”
Evy stood stone-faced and then stepped to the side. “Come on in.”
Brooke cringed when Tasha’s bloody outfit triggered flashbacks from the night before. Ben towing Tasha by the rope now missing from her wrists, Abraham Lincoln, and the look of sheer horror on Mandy’s face all took turns jabbing her with pointed sticks. “Why are you still dressed like that? And how did you know I was here?”
Tasha traipsed into the kitchen, looking just as tired as Brooke felt. “I just came from Mandy’s.”
“You did?”
“I can’t believe that happened last night.”
Brooke’s face turned red. “I didn’t know he was her boyfriend!”
Tasha screwed her nose up. “Huh?”
“Wait, what are you talking about?”
Evy’s gaze bounced back and forth between them. “Whose boyfriend?”
Tears began spilling down Tasha’s filthy cheeks. “Something’s wrong with me.”
“Yeah, you’re covered in blood,” Evy said, coming around for a better look in the sunlight spilling through the kitchen windows.
Tasha turned to Brooke, dark trails lining her face. “Something’s wrong.”
“What’s wrong?”
She dropped Brooke’s concerned eyes and twisted her soiled fingers. “I went home with Craig last night and he…” She stopped to swallow. “He couldn’t get it up.”
Evy’s puzzled eyes bounced from Tasha to Brooke. “He what?”
Tasha sniffled, blinking more tears down her cheeks. “He blamed it on the punch but I know it’s me.”
Evy traded a baffled look with her sister.
Brooke & Ben: Before Fate Interrupted Page 5
