Breaking the Plan: Mill Street Series #1

by Calla, Jessica

  When he pulled his mouth off me, he panted through his slightly parted, slightly swollen lips. I couldn’t help my smile. He grinned and kissed me again. Quick pecks, biting at my lower lip, his hands all over me.

  Sitting on the stair, I let my head drop back as he kissed down my neck. “Please,” I begged again. “Upstairs.”

  He nodded against me, and then pushed his hips into mine. Dizzy, a pure moan of pleasure escaped me. Being wrapped around him—the cold metal behind me, his warm body on top of me—may have been the best feeling in the world.

  My phone vibrated in my back pocket, clanging against the metal stair. We laughed, and he pulled it out of my jeans, tossing it onto the stairs. When I glanced at it though, I heaved a long sigh. “Oh no.”

  Ollie pulled back, his swollen lips wet from my kisses. “What’s wrong?” He buried his face in my neck.

  Turning away from him, I grabbed my phone while he wrapped his arms around my back and rested his chin on my shoulder. I showed him the screen. An IG notification from Vi. With a shaky hand, I tapped it.

  Oliver nibbled at me, pulling my hair back to expose my neck, while I waited for the app to load. I turned my head to kiss him, then looked back at the screen.

  A picture of Vi with a group of girls. Great night with new friends but missing my bestie. She’d tagged me.

  Oliver froze, his lips on my neck. He could see the post over my shoulder.

  He didn’t move, but I had to. As much as I hated to, I twisted out of his arms.

  He reached for me. “You okay, Bella?”

  I nodded but took a step back. “I…”

  “Don’t say it,” he whispered. “I already know.”

  “Vi.” I held up the phone.

  “Vi,” he repeated. “We can’t. As much as I want you, we can’t, right?”

  I couldn’t figure out the answer. There wasn’t a way for us to be together and keep Vi in our lives—and Vi was important to both of us.

  “We can’t.” He answered his own question, his voice shaky.

  My eyes blurred from the tears. I didn’t want to let him go, but what we were doing wasn’t right. Not that it was wrong either. Maybe Vi would understand?

  But I remembered that just weeks before, Ollie had wanted her, not me. What was happening between Ollie and me wasn’t real—it was a fantasy for both of us. I wanted his attention, his caregiving nature, and he wanted… I didn’t know what he wanted. A beauty contestant? A forbidden romp? Hell, maybe he was just horny and I was the most willing target for that.

  But then he grabbed my cheeks and kissed me hard on the forehead. “I think you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

  My tears fell. He gave me one more glance before walking away. Watching him turn into the alley, back to his life, hurt my heart in ways I hadn’t known possible.

  Chapter Eleven

  Oliver

  I didn’t realize how badly I’d reinjured my hand until I got back to the apartment. Josh, who was passed out on the couch, stirred when I flung open the freezer and rattled around with the ice. With my mind on Taryn—the kiss in her alley, the way she’d felt against me, the little noises she’d made—I hadn’t noticed that my hand was throbbing and swollen.

  I pulled the dish towel from the counter, threw some ice cubes in it, and then wrapped it around my hand.

  Josh stumbled into the kitchen area, pointing at it. “Is that from Danny?”

  I nodded.

  “Fuck, man. I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” Josh had done what he could to keep the asshole away from me. “Guy’s a prick though.”

  “Yeah, I’m done with him. That’s bullshit what he did to Taryn.”

  Without making eye contact, I pushed past him and headed to my room.

  He followed. “What’s going on with you and Taryn anyway?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut against the images of her, her hard ass in my hands and the soft skin of her shoulder between my teeth. That damn vanilla. “Nothing.”

  Josh tsked. “You fell for her.”

  I turned to face him. “It’s not like that.”

  “Yeah, right,” he said. “What happened?”

  “It’s nothing,” I barked. “I slipped up. It’s not going to happen again.”

  “Did you fuck her?”

  “No, you asshole.” I tightened the ice around my hand to keep from hitting him. “Not going to either. Violet comes back soon.”

  “Thought you forgot,” he murmured.

  I pretended I didn’t hear and walked into my room, slamming the door behind me. Pacing calmed me while I nursed my damn hand. I probably re-broke it. Too exhausted to think about going to the ER, I fell into bed.

  With one hand, I scrolled through my phone to find Vi’s Instagram post. What happened in the alley with Taryn wasn’t me. That wasn’t part of the plan, and it didn’t make sense. I had to get back to being me.

  I commented on the post. Missing my bestie too.

  This is why I had started talking to Taryn in the first place. We were supposed to be getting me back together with Vi. I wasn’t supposed to fall for Taryn. I wasn’t supposed to be kissing her, defending her, and wanting her.

  Within thirty seconds, my phone dinged with Vi’s response. A smiley face. This is how I followed my plan. This is how I would get my future back.

  One thing was perfectly clear. Taryn and I couldn’t see each other again.

  * * *

  Taryn

  “Come on, go out with me next weekend.” Grant, Mr. Johnson’s son, leaned over the counter next to the register I operated at the store. Since the alleyway incident, I’d taken on more hours in hopes of keeping myself busy. Officially, I hated everything—school, my best friend, her ex-boyfriend, myself—and now, because Grant wouldn’t leave me alone, my dumb job. “It’s a Halloween party. You can dress up like a slutty nurse.”

  Grant followed me around the store like a lost puppy, waving the clear plastic costume bag containing the nurse getup at me. He was cute. Blond and bearded, tall and built, a little older, but he had just a bit too much “guy” in him. That aggressive sort of entitlement that I sometimes saw and hated. When I’d confided in Rachel about him, she’d suggested that I kick him in the balls and then tell his dad on him. I couldn’t do that though. The store was his future, not mine, and he hadn’t done anything to scare or hurt me. Simply put, he was a nuisance.

  “Ew. No way am I dressing up in that.” I’d hated Halloween ever since I was a kid and my parents would go to work, leaving me to watch scary movies and open the door to trick-or-treaters on my own. Obviously, they shouldn’t have been so trusting. I could have been kidnapped, or poisoned, or any of the other horrors that Halloween brought with it. Before living with Violet, my preferred way to spend Halloween had been hiding in a dark apartment and pretending I wasn’t home. Freshman year, Violet had tried to convince me that Halloween was “fun,” but I hadn’t bought it.

  “What about Rachel, the redhead?” He squinted, rubbing his beard. “She was in here for a costume the other day. Hook me up?”

  The entire student body had descended on the store for Halloween costumes. “Rachel? You should know that she wanted me to kick you in the balls.”

  “Shit, what did I ever do to her?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  He watched me check out more students buying Halloween makeup. After he thanked them, he directed his attention back to me, furrowing his brow and looking at me like I was nuts. “You’re just going to sit around on Halloween? Why not come out with me?”

  “Because, for the hundredth time, I’m not interested.” I pretended to scroll through my phone.

  He hit his palms onto the counter, making me jump. “But why not?”

  This was the overboard guy-ish behavior that I’d come to associate with him. For all woman-kind, I felt compelled to educate him. “It’s not your business why. I say no; I mean no. You don’t have the right to
a reason, but you have to respect me.”

  “Fine,” he muttered. Scowling, he turned and walked away.

  When the store closed, I rushed through the alley to the stairs. Flashes of my kiss with Oliver invaded my mind. Stupid stairs. Would I ever be able to walk up them without thinking of him?

  I licked my lips, like I could still taste him. I’d had no idea that Ollie could turn me on like that. I didn’t think he could turn me on at all, but that kiss was everything. The kiss to end all kisses. I used to tease Vi that he was skinny and scrawny, but when we were making out, I hadn’t even noticed. His arms had held me tighter than any of the jocks I’d slept with. I’d felt his hard-on through his pants, and he’d seemed pretty well-endowed on that end too. When my hands drifted to his ass, it had felt tight and hard. And I kind of dug how I could hug him all the way around his waist, enveloping him into me.

  I hated myself for thinking about it as much as I had for the past five days. But what sucked most was that from now on, whenever I thought about being with another guy, I’d have to compare him to Ollie.

  I’d seen his comment on Vi’s IG post. Missing my bestie too. Asshole. He hadn’t been missing her when he was grinding into me less than an hour earlier. But chances were that they’d get back together. I wasn’t sure I could be across the hall from them anymore, knowing what I knew about Ollie’s kisses and feeling so much for him.

  Upstairs, when I was safe in my apartment, I texted Josh.

  Me: How is he?

  I’d been texting Josh every day to check on Ollie and his hand. It was clearly starting to get on Josh’s nerves since each return text had gotten snarkier and snarkier.

  Josh: Same as yesterday. Why don’t you two talk to each other? He’s asking me about you, you’re asking me about him. I’m going to group chat your asses if you don’t leave me alone. I graduated eighth grade a long time ago, motherfuckers.

  I texted Josh back.

  Me: He asked about me? You think I should call him?

  The three dots blinked while I waited.

  Josh: YES FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING FOR FIVE DAYS.

  Ew. I grimaced at the phone and typed out a reply.

  Me: Settle down and stop the shouty caps.

  Just as I hit send, my phone dinged with a text from Ollie.

  Ollie: Josh is losing his shit. I’m sorry. I should have just checked on you myself, but I didn’t want to overstep. I’m worried about you being alone with morons like Danny around.

  I took a deep breath. Here we go…

  Me: I’m fine. How’s your hand?

  While I waited, I powered up the coffee maker.

  Ollie: I re-broke it. Back in a cast.

  “Shit,” I said to my empty apartment.

  Me: I’m sorry.

  Ollie: I’m not.

  I couldn’t do it. If I kept texting him, I’d ask him to come over and we’d be back at square one. There were no easy answers for Ollie and me, especially since Vi was due to return in a few weeks. I stopped texting and hid my phone in a drawer.

  When I checked my phone again, I realized that he hadn’t texted back anyway. He understood the same thing I did. That we were each other’s danger zone and had to stay away.

  Without anything better to do—and to keep myself from texting Ollie—I called my dad. “Just come live at home,” he said, after I finished whining. “You don’t need to pay rent here, and it’s only an hour commute.”

  “It’s not really about that,” I told him. Since my parents had struggled all their lives with money, their interpretation of my problems was always financial in nature. They thought money could fix anything since they’d never had it. But the best thing about my parents was that they loved each other and they loved me, and that always came first.

  “We miss you. We want to have you home.” Aw. My heart swelled knowing I had such a great man as a father. A hardworking, honest family guy.

  But their apartment was smaller than mine and Vi’s. “No offense, but I don’t want to move back with you guys.” I shuddered at the thought. “The school gave me a stipend for work-study, so I’m okay with money. And I couldn’t leave Vi.” It was a lie. I didn’t know how I’d live with Violet after my sexy stair session with her ex.

  I couldn’t figure out a way to tell my parents that everything else sucked, so I hung up and pouted into a pint of chocolate chip mint. I’d have to figure it all out soon. For now, all I wanted to do was tap into the ice cream and pass out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Oliver

  As November rolled in, I tried to concentrate on my classes and getting into law school. Even though my parents were alumni and managing partners at the biggest firm in Manhattan and I’d gotten a top score on the LSAT, I still needed to secure my Harvard Law admission. In an effort to study and keep my sanity, I sat in the library every night. When that got to be too boring, Josh and I drove to our favorite hiking trails in Pennsylvania.

  Being outdoors in the cool fall air helped me think. Problem was, sometimes I didn’t want to think. Thinking meant questioning and debating. I didn’t mind doing all that stuff academically, but when it came to my personal life, I tried to avoid it.

  I wanted to miss Violet more than I did, but the situation with Taryn had me confused. Logically, I knew that Violet and I had a plan. When we were together, we were happy. We’d be happy.

  But out on the hiking trail, bigger questions would pop into my mind. Does being happy mean what I always imagined it to mean? I never found answers, so instead, I just pushed the Oliver Stoneridge Philosophy on Life debates out of my mind.

  Sometimes, when I was feeling brave enough, I’d let myself miss Taryn. I’d go to the arcade at the Student Center and play Donkey Kong, somehow still able to smell the vanilla scent of Taryn in the air. I’d walk by the store just to check on her. While peeking through the storefront window, I’d catch sight of her helping customers or organizing stock. On Halloween, I’d lurked in her alley and kept an eye on her apartment, just to make sure everything looked in order. Once I’d caught a glimpse of her on campus and followed her a little—not in a creepy way, just to get an indication of whether or not she seemed that magic word. Happy. She didn’t necessarily seem unhappy.

  Seeing her settled me mentally, but physically, it turned me into a Neanderthal. My body had a mind of its own as I walked behind her, my eyes on her ass, thinking about kissing her in the alley. How when I pressed up against her, she felt so hard and soft at the same time. Especially with her vanilla flavor, kissing Taryn was like getting a taste of the cake but not the icing. Of course, the icing wasn’t mine to take, and I’d respect whatever she wanted to do with her icing.

  Cake? Icing? What am I even thinking? I’d never acted like a nonsensical adolescent about women, even when I was an adolescent, but Taryn… She was different. Every reaction I had to her was different.

  But she wasn’t my Violet. I hadn’t promised my life to her the way I’d committed to Vi, and she wouldn’t want the life I was seeking anyway. My attraction to her didn’t make sense, logically speaking.

  Logical or not, one night after a particularly grueling hike with Josh, I had to leave my phone in his car to stop myself from texting Taryn. But that didn’t stop me from firing up my laptop and searching the Miss Lovely America pageant, or from clicking the link to the Miss Lovely New Jersey site. Nor did it stop me from signing up for the Miss Lovely New Jersey newsletter. And in my research that wasn’t research, I may have seen that she’d be appearing at a charity event that my parents’ firm attended.

  I ran to Josh’s car to get my phone and called my mom.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Mom asked.

  “I spoke to you a couple days ago, and I text you every day. What more do you want from me?” My mother was way too obsessed with me. If it were up to her, I’d be living at home and commuting so she could study me and make sure my life was in order. Order was the Stoneridge way.
r />   “But I need to hear your voice. Say something to me. Let me remember what you sound like.”

  I sang. “My mother is so dram-a-tic…”

  “Alright, smarty. So why are you calling? You need money?”

  I gasped, feigning shock. “Can’t a son just call out of love?”

  “Well, how sweet of you.” I could tell she wasn’t buying it. “Your father and I are about to go to dinner. Want to meet us? You can tell us what you need then.”

  With them being right across the river in Manhattan, I’d often pop in for a quick meal. I was tempted but didn’t want them to see that my hand was recasted, so I declined. “But before you go, I wanted to ask you about the Parson House Charity Ball.”

  The Parson House was a non-profit agency that worked with the homeless population of the tristate area. Every year, they organized a fundraiser ball, where wealthy folk would pay thousands of dollars per seat, hobnob with each other, and pat themselves on the back for being awesome benefactors.

  “It’s next weekend.” The firm sponsored the charity and Mom and Dad always attended the ball. “Your father and I are going, and the firm bought five tables. What do you need to know?”

  “Got an extra seat?” I cringed, waiting for her response.

  “For you?” From her increased volume, I could tell she was shocked.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Why? You never wanted to do these networking things before.” The hilt in her voice let me know she was on to me. She knew I was up to something, but I was prepared. Again, preparation was the Stoneridge way.

  “Since I’ll be working at the firm over Christmas break, I thought it would be good for me to meet some people, show my face around at firm events. Sort of ease myself into the population. It’s going to be hard enough to be taken seriously with you and Dad running the show there. I’d like to try and impress people in a social setting.”