Rash Decisions

by Alex Rosa

  “Troy I—”

  “It’s not a question, Jules.” He smirks, but the look doesn’t meet his eyes. “The Soleils will be here tomorrow to sign the contract. I need us on the same page.”

  He isn’t talking about work, or maybe he is.

  Where am I again? I can’t breathe.

  All I can do is nod. I guess there isn’t any escaping Troy after all, and I’m in so much deeper than I could have ever imagined.

  Finally I find my voice, seeking a sense of direction as I speak, showing Troy exactly how this is going to go down if he gets to demand my time. “Fine. I agree. We do need to be on the same page.”

  Boldly I turn to face Noah, pressing a chaste kiss against his cheek. “Talk to you later. Have fun at lunch.”

  The corner of Noah’s mouth perks up. “Will do, babe”

  My insides cringe while at the same time an odd laugh erupts from Troy.

  I fling my eyes to him, and his crystal orbs show unexpected amusement among the chaos.

  Noah releases me, completely unaware of what’s going on as he makes his way back to the elevator.

  It isn’t until Troy walks up to me that he leans in and whispers, “I can do better than babe,” as he pulls something from his pocket and discreetly places a wad of fabric in my hands before following Noah and disappearing into the elevator.

  I peer down at my hands and find my missing panties.

  I left my office grumpy. Only because Troy never returned from lunch, nor did he offer so much as an explanation to anyone other than a quick e-mail to Claire a little too late.

  She peeked her head into my office before leaving at 4:30pm, smiling weakly as she saw me looming over my sketchpad. I had been sketching away all day and I wanted to be able to present some ideas to the Soleils tomorrow even before choosing a location. I wanted to get them buzzing with excitement before the project began. However, my nerves got the best of me and I felt each design fell flat, even if Claire did compliment my yellow and gray palette.

  She politely informed me that Troy had let her know that he wasn’t feeling well and took the rest of the day off.

  Jerk.

  I grimaced at Claire and she scampered off.

  Now here I am, hours later and still a bundle of nerves in my apartment. I slip on my college sweatshirt and tug on some shorts in hopes it’ll help me relax.

  I had already devoured an entire bag of Doritos in one weekend, so comfort food is out of the question since I already consumed my favorite go-to junk food in a time of need.

  I open my fridge, and everything seems lack luster, just like my designs. I grumble loudly as I slam the fridge shut.

  I don’t want my mistakes to bleed into my work life, especially since that’s where I find solace most.

  It’s the Troy effect, I guess.

  I let out another loud, angry grunt at the thought, deciding my stomach could use the night off and has enough Doritos stored away to pull energy from in a crisis.

  I wander my apartment, wondering what to do with myself. It feels odd. I wish I had something to cuddle. I was tempted to tell Noah to come over, thinking maybe spending more time with him can make me forget about my mistake. However, Noah has the night shift and is sure to hibernate for the next day because of it, so I didn’t bother asking.

  I had a billion questions swimming in my head today. At one point I actually couldn’t wait for Troy to come back demanding answers, because I need my own!

  I collapse backwards onto my couch.

  It’s weird to be in limbo between crying and screaming. I’ve only ever been here a handful of times, and the tears always win.

  Brothers? How did I not see that?

  I try to remember every conversation I had between both men, Troy and Noah, and nothing comes up as remarkable. Noah mentioned a brother once, and a sister. He said his brother was kind of a jerk like his father, but didn’t seem too fazed by it. He must’ve been talking about Troy. They are only half-brothers, so what a funny thing for Noah to say. I assume they share a mom since their last names are different.

  A whole slew of different questions flood my mind. Noah and Troy are so different, and then the realization that I’m only starting to get to know both men hits me.

  I grab for a couch pillow and smother my face with it. I’m about to scream, deciding to screw the tears for once.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I spring up from the couch, looking at the time. Eight o’clock. It must be Megan. The fact I actually might have a friend to confide in has me eager to open the door. She’ll know what do about my predicament. Or maybe she’ll call me a cheating whore. It might be what I need. Regardless, I need human interaction and a reality check, stat.

  I sprint toward the door with reckless abandon, my socks sliding on the worn wood as I stop. I fling the door open without looking, ready to scream out my blasphemy, but my words get choked off when my vision crashes with searing ocean eyes. That’s if hell could have an ocean that boiled with fear, frustration and lust.

  I rub my eyes just to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Troy’s linen shirt and tie are still on, but the blazer is gone and instead replaced with the same worn leather jacket he was wearing that one night I babysat. His hair is stripped of gel, and as he threads his fingers through his hair, I think I know why.

  “You didn’t come back to work,” is the first thing out of my mouth, and I must admit, it surprises the both of us.

  He leans against the doorframe, and I have to take a small step back from the static vibes he puts out. He looks pained, but I really wish he wouldn’t look so good in pain.

  “I’ve had a lot on mind, don’t you think?”

  I cross my arms. At least I don’t feel guilty when I’m near him. It’s almost refreshing to breathe the same air as someone and not feel miserable. I just have this natural inclination to want to hate him, that’s all. “That makes two of us. How did you know where I live?” I stand on my tiptoes to peer over his shoulder, but there’s nothing behind him but the silent, empty hallway.

  He raises his brows wryly, and I can’t see what there is to be playful about. “You’re the one who ran away. And I know where you live because I picked you up, remember?”

  I feel like I was just verbally shoved. “Did you just say I ran away?”

  He stands up straight, and his mouth does that thing. “Yeah, because that’s exactly what you did. Now, please invite me in.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “Did Troy Dillinger just use the word please? How kind of him.”

  He rolls his eyes and tries to hide his smirk. Then he just walks past me.

  “Excuse you!” I harp as I close my door behind me, trailing after him in a fury.

  He begins to do the same thing I had been doing all weekend. He paces my living room back and forth. I can do it in five strides; he manages it in only three before swiveling back around to pace to the other side.

  He’s manic as his eyes stay down on the floor until finally he looks up as if finding his starting point.

  “Let’s ignore the fact that you’re dating my brother for a second, okay? Why did you sneak off the next morning from my apartment?”

  I vice grip onto the barstool next me, chewing my lip raw as I stare at him.

  He raises his hand and closes his eyes briefly while he pulls in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little tense.”

  “Aren’t you always tense?” I ask, finding that my voice apparently lies in the thick layer of sassiness that coats my existence.

  “I don’t think I was tense Friday night, do you?”

  He strokes his jaw, and when the corner of his mouth twitches I can see the hint of family resemblance, but everything else is so different. The look tugs at a feeling low in my belly, but my brain is reaching out for some sense of logic.

  “How are you and Noah related?”

  “We share a mother. My Dad died when I was two, and
my mother moved on a year later. She met Donald Weston, and popped out two more kids with her loving hubby to be. Now, I was kind enough to answer your question, care to answer mine?”

  I shake my head, trying to focus and then realize how shocking it is that Troy is standing in my living room. He’s too beautiful for my vintage couch, and worn chic pillows.

  “Obviously, we made a mistake and I got scared.”

  He seems more stoic than before, his features looking chiseled in stone as he replies. “You think it was a mistake?”

  I gulp down this time. The truth is I don’t know the answer to that.

  “I have a boyfriend. It wasn’t the right thing to do. Plus—“

  “Let’s say hypothetically you weren’t dating Noah, would you regret it?”

  I hate that Troy doesn’t waste a word. There are no secret phrases in the question that I could easily divert down.

  “—See! Don’t act like you didn’t want it to happen as much as I did.” He explains, finding the answer somewhere in my eyes.

  My guts knot, and my cheeks flush as I remember his diligent hands, and perfectly placed kisses, thinking that at the time I didn’t want anything else, but it doesn’t make it right.

  “Don’t put words in my mouth!”

  “I’m not! If you actually said what you were really thinking, I wouldn’t have to speak for you!”

  I fume, shaking off a tantrum as I take a bold step toward him. “Troy, you want to know the truth?”

  “For God’s sake, it’s all I want.” He throws his hands in the air, letting them collapse at his sides.

  “The truth is, sure, if I wasn’t dating Noah maybe I’d be curious, but the fact of the matter is, that’s not the case. We both had poor judgment.” I pause, waving my hand between us. “Actually, no. I did something wrong. You just read my signals, and I’m a terrible person … an awful person … a horrible excuse for a human being—“

  “Stop.”

  “What?” I ask realizing I had blindly babbled myself into a self-deprecating stupor right in front of Troy.

  “I did what I did knowing you had a boyfriend. I knew it was wrong. I just thought–I just…”

  “You thought you could convince me?” I ask with a goading brow, allowing a smile to peek through. It’s almost a cute of him to say.

  “Not exactly,” he huffs hiding his own arrogant but slightly adorable embarrassment as he licks over his teeth. “You shouldn’t be with Noah.”

  If I had managed a smile, it vanishes in an instant.

  “Stop. You’re just saying that.”

  He squares his shoulders as if he had prepared for this. “I think you should dump Noah before things get out of hand.”

  I squint my eyes, shaking my head, utterly bewildered. “Have you lost your fucking mind, Troy?”

  He grins, which shocks me because that seems like the entirely inappropriate thing to do, but then I see the transition. Troy can flip his sex god vibe like a light switch. I wonder if he’s aware that he does it.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but you can’t possibly like Noah.”

  I laugh. I actually blurt out a spastic laugh. “What? Have you met your brother? He’s kinda like the most charming, hunky cop in the city!’

  This time Troy’s look of disgust is even more laugh worthy.

  “You’re just saying that because you barely know him.”

  I shake my head again, transitioning back into anger. “Since when do you think you have any say in my life? Just because you stuck your dick in me you think you know what I want?”

  His brows tense and his eyes blaze in anger. He takes a step toward me, popping my personal bubble.

  “I did not just stick my dick in you. Don’t say that,” he says more irate than that one time I told him his designs sucked. Okay, I only implied it that first meeting.

  I stand up straighter, challenging him right back. “You most certainly did. We got drunk, and you just stuck your dick where you think it belongs.”

  He takes a step forward again and I’m back against the wall of my hallway. How does he always get me trapped like his?

  “Jules, if I just wanted to stick my dick in you, I would’ve fucked you in the elevator and called you a cab. We both know that we didn’t just fuck.”

  I can't seem to figure out if the fresh flush to my skin is because I’m so mad, or because I never considered the fact that he’s right. It wasn’t fucking. Even in my drunken stupor I know that every gentle caress and every patient touch was more than a one-night stand. I felt it, and I hate that it’s taken this moment, right now, to realize it.

  I decide to follow through with the only thing I’m good at. Sarcasm. Don’t fail me now.

  “Is this supposed to make me like you, because I’m confused?”

  He grunts. “Break it off with Noah, Jules.”

  “No. I know this might kill your ego, but I want Noah, and not you.” I gulp down the last few words, and it feels like I’m swallowing sand as they drag slowly down my esophagus and plummet into my stomach, bungee-ing back with a heavy helping of that guilt I’ve become so acquainted with.

  He’s so close now. He leans into me, placing his hand against the wall on either side of my face. Our bodies don’t touch, but I can feel him around me like a summer breeze on the beach. He smells crisply of spice and the ocean, and if I were able to close my eyes I can maybe picture myself back in Californ—

  “—You know how I know it isn’t a good idea?”

  “Can I tell you stop if I wanted to?”

  His voice gets mischievously low as he leans in closer and I forget how to breathe. “Noah doesn’t have any idea that you like to be kissed here.” Boldly he presses the fingertips of his right hand to my hipbone, quickly lifting his touch as if not cross the boundary any further than he already has. “And he has no idea that you shiver every time you’re kissed here.” He lifts the same hand and lightly feathers the spot behind my ear, and I have to do everything in my power to repress goose bumps.

  I want to tell him he isn’t playing fair, but my mouth filter has abandoned me.

  “How do you know Noah doesn’t know all of those things?”

  Troy’s wicked, knowing smile causes my insides to pool between my legs. I want to hate him so bad.

  “Because you haven’t slept with Noah. He told me at lunch today. He said that you told him you wanted to take things slow, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, Jules, it’s that you don’t do things slow.”

  “You can’t go toying with your brother, prying for personal information, when you’re the one who slept with his girlfriend.”

  He scoffs this time, but still traps me. I don’t fight it, and he doesn’t budge.

  “Do you think I actually wanted to hear about your relationship? He’s so ga-ga over you he wouldn’t shut up. That’s just the part of the story I found the most interesting. You see, I felt like shit, Jules. Don’t get me wrong. My guilt kills me as much as it does you, okay? Just make the right choice for the both of you before someone gets hurt.”

  “I want to try things out with Noah. Do you hear me Troy? I don’t understand what we’re talking about. Is this all because you don’t want me with your brother, or is this because you just want me?”

  He stiffens. Even the air around us becomes thick.

  “Both. He’s not the charming, innocent you make him out be, either. This is what I’m talking about. You barely know each other, and the signs are all there that it isn’t working.”

  “He isn’t innocent? Why the hell would you say that to me?”

  “Because it’s the truth. Everyone likes to peg Noah like the hero. He isn’t. He’s done the same shitty things that we’ve all done. Just because he recues kittens from trees, and helps old ladies cross the road doesn’t make him a saint.”

  “Why do you hate your brother so much?”

  “I don’t hate him. We just have our
issues, that’s all. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s important to me. Blood is blood, even if it’s half.”

  “Then why do this? What am I supposed to do? Dump Noah, and then jump into your arms and think he wouldn’t be bothered by it? That’s not how this is going to go.”

  “If I can stomach the pain he’s put me through then he can survive a few dates and your doe eyes.”

  “What are you talking about? You can’t come in here, barge into my apartment, and say things like that!”

  “It’s up to Noah to tell you about himself, not me.”

  I slump, and make the disastrous mistake of leaning my forehead against his chest, my arms slack at my sides trying figure out how I feel. I need space.

  “I think you should leave.”

  I lift my head up and step out of his grasp, walking toward the door. He follows, but he sulks as he does it, and it’s very un-Troy of him.

  I open the door. He looks out into the hallway.

  “You’re kicking me out?”

  “I’m not kicking you out. I’m politely asking you to leave.”

  He steps out into the hallway but turns around, and finally the boundary feels like it’s there, but I find I hate it instantly.

  “Ya know, I don’t know what I’m doing, Jules. I didn’t know what to do with myself when I saw you with Noah earlier. I didn’t know how to handle lunch, and hell, I didn’t know how I was going to face you when I got to work. I made the rash decision to come here even though I knew I shouldn’t. I’m not telling you to dump Noah because I want to be a shitty brother, or even because I want to be your boyfriend. That’s not it. I’m just confused. I had a good time Friday night, and it felt different. I don’t want to go pick out what curtains we want in our living room or anything, I’m just saying it felt worth giving it a shot. Plus …”

  I roll my eyes. “Plus what?”

  “He called you babe. You told me you don’t like that name, and you won’t tell him you don’t. I don’t know why, but you won’t. You’ll wince every time he says it, but let it go. Yet, you have no problem telling me exactly what you want, when you want it, and I think that’s a way better foundation than what you have going on.”