Brooke & Ben: Before Fate Interrupted (6 page)

“My fault?”

She turned to
poke a finger in his muscular chest. “Mandy is not only one of my best friends,
but she’s also my roommate, asshole!”

Ben glanced at
the closed bedroom door, unsure what to say next. “I’m sorry.”

“How could you
do something so horrible to her like that to her?”

He released a
heated breath. “Look, between you and me, Mandy and I were never going to work
out. She is way too uptight and can’t hold her liquor. I don’t roll with girls
like that.”

“Oh, and just what
kind of girls do you…” She held up a hand. “On second thought, I don’t care.”

He looked her
over. “That costume is entrapment!”

Brooke slapped
him across the face, stinging her hand. “That was a dickhead thing to do, you
cheating bastard!” She shoved him out of the way and went to retrieve her
corset.

He grabbed her
arm and spun her around. “When I first saw you tonight…”

She yanked free from
his grasp and slapped him again, leaving a red mark across his cheek. “Spare me
the love at first sight bullshit.”

Ben stepped
closer, breathing in deep wafts of her perfume. “Are you telling me you didn’t
feel something?”

Brooke turned
her back to him, trying not to let his smoldering looks melt her racing
thoughts. She slid into her top. “No, I didn’t. This isn’t a Nicholas Sparks
movie. You’re just another man-whore who’s watched too much online porn.”

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 doorbell 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.