Distracted (7 page)

Bryson

“You didn’t…”

My eyes remained on my lap, my head covered with a hood, as I shamefully admitted, “I did.”

“
Bryson…
”

Nothing in the world felt as bad as a legitimately disappointed Leslie. I could make her mad, piss her off to the furthest extent.

But her disappointment?

I always had trouble swallowing that shit.

I don’t know what I expected her to say when I told her that I had summoned Kennedy to the LA trip
and
kissed her, but I knew she wouldn’t be thrilled with the news.

“I know, Leslie. It was stupid, but I couldn’t help it. Everything about the moment felt so…”

She cut me off. “Wrong, Bryson! It should’ve felt wrong.”

“
Should’ve
, but it didn’t. So I guess I acted before the wrongness could surface.” And boy did that shit hit me like a train the second we got in the car. She wouldn’t even sit by me on the plane; had asked the gate attendant to switch her seat and volunteered to pay extra if necessary. She was completely quiet up until the time I dropped her off at her apartment when she offered me a halfhearted goodbye.

“Bryson, I gave you one job; to not ruin her. And now not only are you getting yourself involved with an employee, you’re toying with her feelings.”

“
Toying with her feelings
? This isn’t a game, Leslie.”

I tried not to be offended until she said, “That’s what you always say until the next PYT strolls by and steals your attention. Then you leave the has-been desperate for her fix of you,
doing crazy shit
for her fix of you.” Though there were more than a couple crazies that came to mind, I knew that wasn’t always the case.

Instead of going back and forth, I decided to cut that part of the conversation short. “Okay, you got your scolding out. Now I need some advice on what to do next.”

She sighed into her hands, almost as exasperated as me about the situation. “
What to do next
? What do you mean,
what to do next
? There is no
next
, Bryson. This has gotta stop before it goes too far.”

“It’s already gone too far! I just… I don’t know what to do.”

She spoke like the answer was obvious. “You don’t. You step away and act like none of this ever happened so we don’t lose another good stylist.”

“Not that easy, Leslie.”

“Oh, but it is. And even if it’s not, you’re Bryson Harris. You can make it that easy.” I tried to digest her advice; apply it some way, somehow. But there was hardly any use.

I was in way deeper than I could handle.

&

“Here. There’s enough outfit choices to get you through the week as long as your schedule doesn’t change.”

I looked at the various ensembles, each matched with shoes, that Kennedy had laid out on the couch in order of appearance. When she showed up to my house, she didn’t say much; just went right to work pulling stuff from my closet. I had to be at the arena in less than an hour to prepare for my game later that night, but not even that felt more important than spending time with Kennedy talking about clothes.

“Looks good. Thank you.”

She pulled her hair behind her ear, only offering a smile for a response.

I watched as she gathered her things preparing to go on about her day, but something made me stop her with my incessant staring that always seemed to make her uncomfortable.

“What is it, Bryson?”

“I wanted to tell you that… I’m sorry.” After everything that had gone down, it felt like the right thing to say in the moment.

She seemed surprised as she asked, “Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for… I don’t know; putting you in such a compromising position I guess.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at me suspiciously as she asked, “Compromising, huh? That’s what you call it?
Compromising
?

I didn’t see the issue, so I said, “Yeah, compromising. It was wrong for me to push up on you like that knowing you’re engaged. So I’m sorry.”

She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes zeroing in on mine before she spewed, “Bullshit, Bryson.”

“What?”

“That’s bullshit. You knew exactly what you were doing and you’re hardly sorry about it. If you were really sorry, it wouldn’t have taken you so many times to figure that out. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have dissed Landon over and over again. If you were sorry,
you wouldn’t have
… you wouldn’t have kissed me.” Something about her words opened a whole new can of worms that I hardly expected to show up.

I stood up, going toe-to-toe with her as I said, “You wanna talk about bullshit? Let’s do it. Let’s talk about this bullshit of you kissing me back. This bullshit of you moaning when I made a move. This bullshit of you tryna use Landon as the only excuse for why we can’t go all the way.”

She acted all disgusted as she tossed back, “
Go all the way
? Nobody wants to have sex with you, Bryson!”

“Prove it.”

I pulled my shirt over my head tossing it to the ground at her feet. She looked down at it, crossing her arms over her chest as she said, “You’re pathetic.”

“Pathetic, huh? All of this… is pathetic?” I watched her chest heave up and down as she nodded her head yes. I closed the little bit of space between us so that I could speak directly into her ear. “Or is it pathetic that you want it? You want it so bad that you spend half of the time in my presence squeezing your thighs together to fight off the temptation.”

She shook her head, her ear grazing my lips as she said, “That’s not true.”
My hands found what felt like their rightful place on her ass as I pulled her in tighter. “It is.”

She didn’t remove them, just let out a weak, “Bryson, stop.”

“No.”

“Bryson…”

I released her ass so I could grab her chin and lift it in a way that her eyes were forced to face mine. “Tell me, Kennedy. Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you’re unaffected. Tell me you’re so in love with Landon, so devoted to Landon.”

She closed her eyes as she let out another weak plea. “Bryson, please…”

“Tell me!”

She yanked away, getting as far away from me as she could before she admitted, “Okay! Fine! I want you, Bryson. I want you so damn bad, but I can’t have you because I
do
love Landon. I
am
devoted to Landon.”

“Forget, Landon!”

She fell into the couch, putting her elbows on her thighs as posts so that she could rest her face in her hands. Her speech was muffled as she said, “It doesn’t work like that. Don’t you get it?”

“Actually I don’t.” I mean, who
wanted
someone just to stay with somebody else? It’s not like the shit was forced or arranged. Kennedy had a choice.

She attempted to break it down, but I still didn’t get her logic when she said, “This isn’t about pleasure. Hell, this is hardly about love. It’s about loyalty.”

“So you’re willing to compromise your happiness for loyalty?” Of all of the concepts of the day, that one certainly sounded the most bullshittiest of all.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Whatever, Kennedy. Deny yourself if you want to. I’m through dealing with it.”

Kennedy

I have to quit.

There was no way I could keep working with Bryson after all that had went down over the last couple of days.

We got too heated, too fast.

We said too much

We
... we kissed.

And it felt so damn good.

Scary good
.

So scary that I knew I had to stay as far away from him as possible.

I gave things a test drive by trying to do my job as normal, but even that turned into an
almost, too close
situation. One second I was calling him out, the next second he had handfuls of my ass. Big handfuls as if I really had that much to give. But somehow it was a perfect fit for his greedy palms.

I looked at the clock on the nightstand and though it was well before I was suppose to report for duty, there was no way I could get another wink of sleep. I slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Landon, as I made my way to the living room. I turned on the TV and of course, who was the first one plastered on the screen?

Bryson Harris.

A triple-double. How convenient.

While he was moving on with his life, handling business as usual, I was stuck tight-roping the fine line between business and pleasure. But if he could keep business as business, why couldn’t I do the same?

Because he’s fine as hell and his lips taste like sin and he smells good and….

“Kennedy, what are you doing up so early?” I jumped from my spot on the couch, finding a shirtless Landon who was busy scrubbing his eyes.

“Umm, I… couldn’t sleep.” I left it at that, knowing I would probably talk myself into a corner if I said anymore.

He looked at me suspiciously, his eyes still squinty as they tried to adjust to the light. “You alright, babe?”

The last thing I needed was for him to worry so I answered, “
Yeah
. Yeah, I’m fine. I think I’m gonna… go for a jog or something.”

Because that’s what people do in these type of needing-to-clear-my-head situations, right?

He immediately started to laugh. “Kennedy, you haven’t worked out since I’ve been with you. Do you even own a pair of running shoes?”

“Do sneaker wedges count?” He laughed even harder.

“Babe, you’ll bust your head wide open trying to run in those things. Here, how about we skip the jog and try another… cardio activity?”

“Like what?”

He walked over to where I sat on the couch, dropping to his knees right in front of me. Then he parted my thighs, causing the oversized t-shirt I fell asleep in to ride up. His sly grin told me exactly what he was up to and I certainly wasn’t gonna stop him if
this
was the alternative to running all of the two blocks I could survive.

A little morning sex would be the perfect thing to get my mind off of Bryson.

&

I was humming -
literally humming
- as I rang the doorbell at Bryson’s house. Spending the morning all over the apartment with Landon was the perfect reminder of why I was planning on marrying him.

He was good to me.

He
felt
good to me.

And though he may not always make my heart race, or cause me to fumble over my words and lose my breath with his mere presence, he loved me and cared for me in a way that no other man had shown me before.

Bryson would never measure up to that.

So when he opened the door all shirtless and sexy, I didn’t even flinch. I faced him straight up, telling him good morning before I proceeded right past him into his home like I owned the place. I waited for him to close the door and follow me, but instead he stayed in the doorway just looking at me.

“Aren’t you gonna say good morning back?”

His face was tense as he replied, “No. I’m too busy trying to figure out what the hell got into you.”

I really wanted to answer,
“My man got into me. All over the place. All morning long.”
But that wouldn’t have exactly been professional so I said, “I’m just in a good mood. That’s all.”

He closed the door, but still didn’t look convinced. “Nah, I’ve seen your good moods. And you haven’t exactly been a good mood person lately, so this is different.”

I brushed him off. “Whatever, Bryson. Can we just get to the closet so I can do my job and get out of here?”

He finally smiled, his bicep flexing as he brought his hand to his chin to stroke it. “Actually, I have a special assignment for you. I need you to come to this photo-shoot with me.”

I caught an attitude quick. “What? Why? Don’t they have a stylist of their own?”

He could tell I was flustered so he took a step closer to me, his voice dropping an octave as he said, “But I want
my
stylist there.” I held his eyes for a moment, refusing to back down from the challenge of his presence.

I could do this.

I could face Bryson straight up without falling into his traps.

I could…
damn, that smile.

In what seemed like slow motion, Bryson brought his hand to my face, stroking my cheek as he said, “You look beautiful today, Kennedy. Glowing in fact. Like you got some.” I snatched my face away, heading to his state-of-the-art kitchen to grab a bottle of water. And of course he was right on my heels, each of his barefooted steps matching the clank of my chunky heeled ankle booties against his hardwood floor.

“My sex life is none of your business,
boss
,” I tossed over my shoulder as I yanked the refrigerator door open. The second I bent over to grab a bottle from the bottom shelf, I felt Bryson directly behind me, his hands on my waist and his pelvis right against my ass. I closed my eyes, immediately picking up on the fact that he couldn’t have possibly had on any boxers… or briefs. But no matter how good he felt, I had to handle this the right way.

I had to be strong.

So I stood up -
not panicked, or urgently
- but just enough so that our bodies could separate. Then I closed the door and turned around right into his usual cocky expression to ask, “Where’s the photo-shoot?”

He looked even more confused than I expected. “
The photo-shoot
? That’s what you wanna talk about?
The photo-shoot
?”

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To do my job? The job you hired me to do?”

He was at a loss, rubbing a hand against the nape of his neck and letting out a spacey, “Yeah… yeah, I… I guess so.”

“Good. Now let’s get to work.”