The Bond That Built Us (2 page)

He drops my hand and turns his head to MJ who is beside him. “Where’s Cara?”

“Oh, God,” she says and rolls her eyes. “Her dad is taking her to the airport. He insisted. Parents are such a drag.” Funny she says that, since they are paying for every dime of this trip.

“Well, I’m all ready to go, and I think Kel is about ready. Let me go check on him.” Josh disappears down the hall to the last door on the right and knocks
before going in. This gives MJ the opportunity to dig into me.

“Listen, don’t embarrass me, okay? These people are my friends. Just pretend to be normal and then once we land back here you can go back to being a loser. Got it?”

I gasp at her directness. Did she really think of me as a loser? All because I read books on the weekends instead of go out and get fubared? She rolls her eyes in typical MJ fashion and sits on the couch. I take this time to look at her… really look at her. Her salon-highlighted hair is slightly overgrown, her natural brown roots showing just enough to piss her off I was sure. Her slightly crooked nose is really the only flaw on her face. Her lips, just as mine, are just full enough to get compliments, but not Angelina huge. Her clothing is sparkly and not at all what you would consider “airport garb.”

“What the hell are you staring at?” Her voice breaks me from myinspection. I blink a few times in a row and frantically look around the place, not settling my eyes on her once. I hear her scoff and from my peripheral lean back on the brown couch and bounce her legs up and down.

“Sit down, you’re freaking me out, freak,” she snaps. I oblige, like always. The TV is on and MJ is flipping through the guide so fast I can’t even see what is on. She settles on
Say Yes to the Dress
just as the boys come down the hallway.

The monstrosity this poor girl has on cannot be considered a wedding dress. I have never seen so many beads and jewels on a piece of fabric ever. I’m sure it weighs more than I do. The mother hates it, I can tell by the way her eyes scrutinize every inch
, though it might be the price tag that she doesn’t approve of. The bestie loves it… probably because she will look better in her bridesmaid dress than the bride in that thing. I immediately feel bad for the girl because she is on national television in
that
. The respectable designer must have been on some serious drugs when wielding that masterpiece.

“
I love that dress! It would look so much better on me though, don’t you think, Josh?” MJ asks in her disgustingly sweet voice.

“Um, sure, yeah,” he replies, obviously uncomfortable with where the conversation
is going. But there was no going back now; the seed was planted. MJ is going to be online designing her own ring before we even get back.

I am apparently snarling at the dress, which the girl finally said “no” to, when someon
e beside me chuckles and asks, “What did that dress do to you?”

I turn and see Josh’s roommate standing next to the love seat I’m occupying. Holy mother of… butterflies take flight in my belly. No, those aren’t butterflies. Those are fucking pterodactyls, assaulting my insides as I take in who must be Josh Duhamel’s younger and hotter brother. His
brown hair falls in little wisps across his forehead and his tall, lean body can only be described as the “baseball player” physique. His honey brown eyes are laughing at me. No, he is laughing at me. His eyes are amused and there are little creases at the sides as he smiles.

“Um… I… wha?” I manage to spit out. Jesus, Aubrey, they are called words and they aren’t difficult. “What?” I annunciate a little better than before.

He is still smiling. Hotness is smiling at me! “You were looking at that dress like it did something wrong. You didn’t like it, I take it?” His eyes glance quickly to the TV and back to me. I decide to do the same. The girl is in another dress and the mother is crying dramatically. When I look back at him, his eyebrows rise, expecting an answer.

“Oh! Um no, I think it’s atrocious, actually.”

“AJ!” MJ squeals. “That dress is haute couture, straight from Milan. That dress costs eight grand. Eight grand! I’m sure with your lack of fashion sense you’d end up picking some trashy dress from a second hand shop. Well, in the crazy chance you ever get married.”

“I think her fashion sense is just fine,”
Hotness says slowly. The pterodactyls are practically playing bumper cars in my abdomen, giving me the sensation of wanting to vomit all over his beautiful face.

“Whatever. You guys ready? I just want to get on the plane and order a damn mojito. God knows security is going to be a bitch.”
MJ examines her nails and cringes. I’m sure she is overdue for a manicure.

“Like you?” Hotness quips and my mouth lets out a sound that is part laugh, part bark. I bite down on my lower lip to prevent more embarrassing noises.
I’m glad he gives MJ the attitude she dishes out instead of allowing her to walk all over him. I’m guilty of that and he doesn’t deserve it.

We all stand and walk out to the parking lot, the boys’ suitcases dragging behind them.

“We can take my car to the airport,” Hotness says. I know his name is Kel or some version of it, but I don’t care. He stops and nods his head to the other side of the lot. Josh stops, too, and looks to MJ who apparently is the boss.

“No. AJ will. My shit is already in it.
She doesn’t care.”

“But
I have a Range Rover, I know our stuff will fit. Will it fit in your car?” he asks me.

“I think so. It’s fine, really. I don’t mind. It’s right over here,” I reply and hit the unlock button,
the lights on my car flashing to life. Granted it’s no Range Rover, but my little Beamer X5 is my favorite thing in the world. I know I’m a little spoiled, but compared to some of my friends, it’s like I drive around in a clunker.

The boys shrug and walk to my car, leaving footprints and wheel tracks from their luggage in their wake. I pop the back hatch and they throw their crap in, just barely fitting. We each hop in, the car rocking a little. I hardly notice him beside me in the passenger seat until I hear MJ’s giggling from behind me. I look in my rear view mirror and see Josh nibbling at her neck.

I crunch my nose together and stick my tongue out in repulsion. Hotness chuckles beside me. “Try living with it,” he says, leaning in just a little as he says it. I smile at him and concentrate back on the road. “So everybody calls you AJ?”

“Yeah. Except my dad.”

“Does he call you by your real name?”

“Nope,” I say, popping the
p
. “He calls me Sweet Pea. The only people that call me Aubrey are my professors, and that’s until someone in class corrects them.”

“Me, too. Nobody calls me Kellan. Well, my granddad does, I guess, when he isn’t calling me Dipshit or Hey You,” he says with laughter in his voice. The way he said
granddad
is endearing, it makes me wish I called my grandpa something else. Grandpa is so… unoriginal and boring. For a moment I wonder if I can covertly change what I’ve called him my whole life and if anyone would notice.

“Do you
like
being called Kel?”

He shrugs minutely, something I shouldn’t have seen since I should be focused wholly on the road and not him. “I dunno. I guess. Do you like being called AJ?”

I think for a second, then truthfully say, “No, not really.”

That kind of ca
tches him off guard. “Why?”

Because it reminds me of MJ and what our relationship
used
to be. “Not sure,” I lie.

“Huh… okay, I’ll call you Aubrey if you want.”

I smile, still facing frontward, refusing to look at him again for the rest of the drive. “Okay. So does that mean I have to call you Kellan? It’s only fair, right?”

He laughs. “You have the slight disadvantage, though.” When I furrow my eyebrows together in confusion, he clarifies. “
Kellan is one syllable more than Kel. AJ and Aubrey are the same.”

I shake my head, the smile not leaving my face. That was such a nerd thing to say.
I sneak a peek at him and his cheeks are a little red from embarrassment. It’s obvious he wishes he could take back that statement.

When we make it to the
St. Louis airport two hours later, I round one of the terminals until I spot the long term parking lot. The three of them argue over who will pay for it: Josh saying we should split it four ways, Kellan saying I should be exempt from paying because it is my car, and MJ saying I should pay it all
because
it is my car. I stay silent and wait until they reach a decision.

“Let’s just figure it out later. We don’t have to pay until we leave,” Josh finally says.

Once we hoist our luggage out of the back, Kellan grabs the handle to mine and says, “Let me get that.”

I watch as he pushes the button and lifts the handle and drags it in his left hand, with his in his right and a carry-on bag on his shoulder. He walks off before I can even contest. I slip my purple carry-on over my shoulder and walk behind him. He is tall, at least a half foot taller than I am. I glance down at the prints he leaves in the snow. I try to mimic his strides but fall short.
And of course, I slip and my ass formally meets the wet concrete. I was hoping I’d be able to be accident free during this trip but not even on the plane and I’ve busted my ass.

The three of them laugh at me, and Josh offers his hand to help me up. MJ won’t stop laughing, and it’s more of the laughing
at
me than the laughing
with
me kind.

After check-in and security we sit near the gate and wait. We are the lucky people who get first class every time we fly. I have always wondered what it is like to sit coach, and if I ever book a flight on my own I might just try it. Kellan sits beside me, our bags respectively on each side of us. MJ and Josh plop down on the chairs in front of us, unaware how their PDA is disrupting the other people around us. We chat about college football and when I tell him just how bummed I am to miss some of the bowl games, he twitches in astonishment.

“Didn’t take you for a sports fan,” he says, though he doesn’t know me at all. When I inform him of this, he laughs and says, “Touché.”

Our conversation flows freely from one subject to another, without a single moment of awkward silence. That is until I hear the most annoying voice on the planet.

“Hey, loves! Oh, and you,” she snarls in my direction. My middle finger spasms, desperately eager to be released. I can never retaliate, though. I’m just too afraid.

Cara. Fucking Cara.

2

Kellan

I told myself before I left that I was not going to hook up with Cara or AJ during the trip. I knew it would lead to complications, like always, when all I want to do is let out some stress and the girl wants more. I want to have fun, not tiptoe around a girl sharing the same villa for a fucking week.

Now my little rule didn’t apply to random girls there. I made sure of that.

When I saw Aubrey for the first time, I had a tinge of regret, wishing I didn’t make the rule. She wasn’t hot like the other girls I usually hook up with. Her wavy hair is a natural golden brown and really shiny. She has the same face as MJ but her features are sweeter, softer. And her eyes are a blue-green color, instead of the icy blue that MJ has.She has freckles that dot her nose and cheeks. She isn’t just hot, she is pretty. Beautiful, even. This is not the same girl MJ told me about. Based on MJ’s description, I was expecting a short, chubby girl wearing a Hello Kitty t-shirt and only talked about books and learning.

But as we s
it together in the car and in the airport, I realize that MJ is a fucking liar. Aubrey is pretty awesome. She isn’t ‘one night stand’ material, though, which is all I really do. I really don’t befriend girls, but I could see us hanging out and having a good time. Ugh, I sound like a pussy.

I hear Cara before I see her. When she makes a rude remark to Aubrey, I have the sudden urge to snap at her. I don’t, though. I look her up and down instead. She is dressed similar to MJ, like she is going to a club instead of sitting on a plane
for a few hours. Even though it is barely above freezing outside, she is in a mini skirt. Her top is purposely low-cut; her entire outfit is just asking some pervert to eye fuck her.

She picks up my bag that’s in the chair beside me and throws it on the floor then occupies the hard plastic seat. Her fingers trail from my shoulder down my arm.

“Kel, I missed you!” she coos. Once her hand gets to my forearm she grabs hold and pulls a little, causing my body to turn from Aubrey toward her.

“Hmm, I doubt that,” I mumble, because it’s not a secret that this chick gets around. I am frankly a little surprised I haven’t screwed her yet. I feel like the only one who hasn’t. We made out one night at a party, but her phone trilled and she had the fucking audacity to text another guy while I was sucking on her neck.

But even though she is probably one condom away from surpassing Wilt Chamberlain, I can’t deny that she is hot. Her dark brown hair is straight and cut just past her shoulders, and she could pass for a Victoria’s Secret model body double. I heard from someone that her tits are fake and she’s had work done on her nose and lips. I don’t judge, as long as she hasn’t gone through a sex change surgery, it’s all good in my book.