My Best Friend's Brother (A Bashir Family Romance Book 1) (6 page)

Rhett and I strolled through the colorful fall leaves down a well-worn trail behind the house and in the direction of Berry Creek. The weather was typical for Texas that time of year: crisp, cool, perfect for a walk. We made good conversation—he was charming and witty—and I soon forgot the ugly encounter with Dev.

Still, at moments, I wondered.
Why wouldn’t he want Rhett to know me? Am I that much of an embarrassment to him?

When we got closer to the creek, the trail became uneven. I struggled over a large rock and lost my footing. Rhett caught me before I fell.

“Why don’t you hold my hand…just in case,” he offered.

I accepted his offer with a slight blush. His hand was warm and strong. I liked touching him. Still my thoughts defaulted to Dev.

He could learn a thing or two from Rhett.

Finally, we made it down to a secluded area near the rushing water. Tall oak trees framed the bank and lush grasses made a perfect spot for us to rest a moment.

After we sat down, he immediately leaned in. It was a little too close for me.

“It was nice of you to take me out here…to
release some pressure
,” he whispered in my ear as he stroked my hair. I moved away out of reflex. What was he getting at? I tried to diffuse the heady atmosphere.

“Um, sure, no problem. Hey, we should go look at the water. We might see some trout.”

I started to get up, but he leaned over me before I could stand up and pressed his weight against my chest. My mind raced.

Is this really happening?

“Rhett, please move…”

I pushed his chest away, but it was like pushing on a brick wall.

“Don’t play coy with me, Miss Scarlett. You know you want this,” he said in an exaggerated Southern drawl, centimeters from my face. I could smell alcohol on his breath, and then I could taste it when he kissed me full on the mouth—a sloppy, frantic kiss. Not at all like the one in my dream…with Dev.

I turned my face away and realized I need to end this—
now
.

“Stop! Get off of me!” I yelled, hoping someone would hear. Nothing but crickets chirped in reply.

With his free hand, he grabbed at the buttons on my blouse. I realized in that moment, he was going to rape me.

I screamed this time. “Noooo!”

His hand found my breast, freed from my bra. He pinched my nipple and then moved his mouth toward it…his other hand now between my legs. My eyes filled with tears. This was not how I wanted my first time to be.

I was going to be statistic. A victim of rape. The white trash girl who asked for it. Who deserved it.

I pleaded through my tears, “Please don’t do this…”

And then, just like that, he was off of me. Free of his weight, I instinctively rolled over to protect myself.

I looked up to see where he had gone.

Dev was there.

Dev was here
.

He had Rhett in a choke hold. I had never seen him so enraged. The two men struggled with each other, but Dev had the clear advantage with his height…and sobriety. Rhett was able to break free for just a moment before Dev punched him square in the face. He fell to the ground in a pathetic, unconscious pile.

I scrambled to my feet and took several steps away. My heart was racing and I had to force myself to breathe for fear of passing out.

“Oh god…” I choked out, in shock.

In a second, Dev was next to me. He put his arm around my shoulder protectively, as a big brother or a father would. I turned to him and fell against his chest. Weirdly, it was the only place I wanted to be at that moment.

I don’t know how much time passed, but I stayed in his embrace until I heard police sirens. I only vaguely remembered when he called them from his cell phone. Perhaps I was blocking out everything except the reassuring feeling of him against me.

The police took our statements and arrested Dev’s college friend for attempted rape—
the college friend with the rich and powerful father who would probably not give Dev a job after this.
The father who probably had the power to ruin his career in banking if he were so inclined.

It occurred to me that Dev never expressed the tiniest concern about any of that as we stood by the creek. He could have handled it a hundred different ways that might have preserved his relationship with Rhett…and preserved his chances of having a career at Franklin Bank. But he acted honorably. And decent. And good. He made me feel important and worth protecting.

At once, my childhood disdain for him started to fade.

It was dark out when Dev drove me home. He had given me his sweater to wear since my blouse was ripped. I glanced at him in his white dress shirt. He was stoic, deep in thought. I wondered, would he regret his decision to defend my honor and have his friend—and all the connections that went along with him—smashed to a pulp?

We didn’t speak at all during the short drive. And when we got home, no one seemed to realize we had been gone for several hours.

Dev walked behind me up the stairs to my room, like a protective shadow, while the remainder of the guests cheered over another soccer game in the family room, and children laughed and romped around in front of a Pixar movie under Annika’s watchful eye on the other side of the house.

Maybe I deserved what happened for betraying her in order to prove something to Dev. I was an idiot.

I’m sorry, Annika.

When we made it to my door, I faced him. Once the shock had worn off, my mind had started working. I had questions.

“Dev, how did you know that would happen?”

He looked distressed. Tortured.

“I didn’t know. I never would have invited him here had I known…what he was capable of,” he answered, quietly.

“Then why did you ask me not to go with him?”

He paused before answering, as if trying to find the right words.

“I don’t know. I just knew he had bad intentions. I can’t explain it. It was the way he looked at you. Like he wanted to eat you alive.”

Dev’s eyes locked onto mine. That feeling in my stomach returned. It was as if
he
wanted to eat me alive.

After a moment, I broke the spell.

“What are you going to tell your parents? Oh god, I hate that I’ll have to tell them!”

He shifted his weight, folded his left arm across his chest, and rubbed his chin with right hand, like he always did when he was thinking.

“Don’t worry about it, Scarlett. I’ll handle everything so you won’t have to think about it ever again.”

“Thanks.”

I tugged at his sweater. “Let me give this back to you,” I offered.

“No. You keep it.”

He turned to go.

“Goodnight, Scarlett.”

“Goodnight.”

I think that was the first time in all the years I knew Dev that we had said “goodnight” to each other. I shut my bedroom door and wrapped my arms around my chest, breathing in Dev’s scent…and reliving the memory of his strong embrace.

A
fter the Thanksgiving fiasco, I found that Annika was strangely cool to me. Apparently she had looked for me that night and when she wasn’t successful, it got her feathers ruffled having to watch over the kids by herself. She wouldn’t admit to it, but I think she knew I had gone out with Rhett and she was jealous, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what happened. I wanted to lock it away in a box, never to be opened again.

I was good at locking things away.
Most things,
anyway.

What I couldn’t ignore was my near-constant thoughts about Dev and how I felt connected to him in way that made me catch my breath. He had left for school without saying goodbye, but I had stayed in my room for most of that weekend, so I couldn’t blame him for giving me my space. He must have done a convincing job with his family because no one ever questioned Rhett’s hasty departure; they believed he had left early to meet his parents in Rome for a last minute reunion.

Not more than a week after Thanksgiving, I got an email from Dev. I didn’t even realize he had my address.

Scarlett-

Just checking in to see if you’re alright.

Please let me know.

-Dev

I didn’t know what to make of it. I waited a day and then hit “reply.”

Hi Dev,

I’m fine. Thanks for asking. Thanks for everything, actually.

How is school?

Scarlett

I could have told him I was fine and just left at that. But a part of me wanted to keep the exchange alive. The next morning, he had written again—this time, a bit more. He told me about his classes, the ones that bored him, the ones he actually liked. And he mentioned some of his favorite places in the city.

He was…
friendly
.

I replied and teased him about the frigid weather in New York by mentioning how it was 75 in Texas, and how I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. I also sent him a link to a new article I had contributed to for Texas Monthly.

He wrote back that same day with sincere congratulations and told me how much he liked my writing…and asked me what type of writing I most interested in pursuing after college.

Dev,

Don’t roll your eyes, but I want to write about poverty and social inequalities. It might sound nuts, but I want to make a difference in the world on some level with my writing.

His reply made me smile and my confidence soar.

Scarlett,

You don’t sound nuts—at least not about your writing. ;) Truthfully, if only there were more people in the world like you, it would be a much better place. I feel honored…to know someone like you.

We wrote voraciously to each other for the next week. I learned more about him—his thoughts, philosophies, fears and passions—than I ever gleaned from the years I knew him growing up. Finally, after all this time, I was getting to know the
real
Dev—not the cold, calculating image he had crafted while growing up. And I felt like I was…falling in love with him.

I wondered if the feeling was mutual.

I thought maybe he hinted at something one morning when I opened an email from him with a decidedly different tone. The time-stamp was three AM the night before.

Scarlett,

I wrote you a long email but second-guessed it and hit the delete button. Some things are better said in person. Just wanted you to know I was thinking of you.

-D

P.S. Do you still have that pink sari? The one you wore in my room…when I caught you rifling through my things? ;)

I had to catch my breath. Was he falling for me like I was falling for him? Was he thinking of me at this very moment? Something inside of me knew the answer.

I waited until after dinner that night to write back.

Dev,

I wrote you an even longer reply but deleted it. Now you’ll share my pain of having to guess what it said.

Yes, I still have the pink sari. And no, I was not rifling through your things. I was delivering towels like a good houseguest. You just happened to have a book opened to something interesting, and I’m a sucker for a good poem—and why am I explaining myself to you again?

Scarlett

I got a reply moments later.

Can I call you?

I felt instantly nervous. Talk to him over the phone? Hear his silky voice, his measured breathing? It was infinitely more intimate than email. Before I could write back, my cell phone rang.
Oh god, it’s him.

I grabbed the phone and but let it ring one more time so I wouldn’t seem anxious.

“Hello?”

“You don’t mind that I called you, do you?” His voice was relaxed, calm, like he was lying in bed. It felt strangely intimate to think we were both in bed talking to each other. I forced myself to sound normal.

“Dev, hi. No, no, of course not.”
Why am I so nervous?

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

“In bed. It’s eleven here…which means it’s one AM there. Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Can’t,” he explained.

“Have you tried warm milk?” I cringed realizing how domestic I sounded.

“I don’t think warm milk can cure my problem.”

“Oh? What problem do you have?” I asked, innocently, though I sensed he was leading me on.

“I can’t stop thinking about…someone.”

I guess I would play his game.

“That’s interesting. Who is it? Your sadistic professor in business economics?”

He laughed, his voice silky and deep. “No, someone
infinitely
more attractive than Professor Hicky.”

A painfully long pause. I didn’t know what to say, but I was relieved he couldn’t see me bite my lower lip, my cheeks reddening. I chickened out of his open invitation to flirt and changed the subject.

“Your mom brags about your grades all the time. And the fact that you’re going to an ivy league school. Annika is getting tired of it. I think she’s jealous.”

His response was strangely sullen. “She shouldn’t be.”

“You don’t realize that around here you’re the golden boy—a prince. Your parents really love you.”

A pause.

“Not everything is as it seems, Scarlett.”

It was as if he was hinting at some dark secret. Before I could ask, he spoke again.

“Scarlett…”

“Yes?”

“Can I call you again? Tomorrow night? I think it will help me sleep better.”

“I wouldn’t be a friend if I didn’t help you with your insomnia.”

“I’m happy we’re friends.”

He made my heart pound and my breath quicken. I tried to sound calm.

“It’s late…”

“You’re right. Sweet dreams, Scarlett.”

From that day, our daily emails turned into nightly phone calls, sometimes lasting into the early morning hours. He was increasingly holding my mind hostage. When I woke up each day, I thought of him. And he was the last thought I had before I fell asleep each night. And no one in the house suspected a thing. What would his parents think? What would Annika think?

I wasn’t ready to find out.

I often pulled out his sweater—the one from that night—and wore it to bed, enjoying the soft cashmere against my skin, and delighting in the knowledge it had once been against his. I longed to see him again…and with the holidays around the corner, I hoped he would be coming home soon.

But not everything turns out the way you want it to, does it?