Torrid Affair (9 page)

* * *

W
hen I strolled back
to the room, Julian was sitting on the edge of my bed, his head hung low. “Hi,” he whispered.

“I'll let you two talk.” Delaney pushed off her bed and grabbed her toiletry bag.

He waited until Delaney was out of the room before he spoke.

“Brie . . .” Julian’s voice was hoarse. “I’m so sorry I overreacted. I don’t know what came over me. I should have never left you there. You know this isn’t me.”

Placing my stuff back in the drawer, I cleared my throat. “Julian, you can’t act the way you did last night and then think you can come here and all will be forgotten.”

“I know.” He nodded. “I’m sorry, Brie.”  When I didn’t respond, he rushed to my side. His hands framed my face. “I’m so sorry. I was a shitty friend.”

I was so ready to yell and scream at Julian, but was I any better? I almost kissed Nate. If I hadn’t puked I couldn’t say that nothing would’ve happened. He can be a better man but can I be a better girlfriend? I shook my head, not wanting to hear the thoughts in my head or his apology.

“Julian, I have exams coming up and then Christmas break. I think maybe we jumped into this friendship. Maybe we should let the dust settle.”

“Brie, I’m so—”

“I know you’re sorry, Julian. I need a little bit of time, okay?”

I noticed his Adam’s apple bob. “Yeah.” He bowed his head. “I can give you time.” He pulled me toward him and hugged me once again. I felt him fill his lungs with air one last time before he let me go.

I stood there in the middle of my dorm room, my hair still wet from my shower and my heart filled with emotion, none that I wanted to analyze at the moment. I wanted to get this semester over and done with, and start the new year on a different foot. The following semester I wouldn’t have a class with Nate, so he wouldn’t be a distraction.

Six weeks without Nate would help.

T
here are
things in life that are out of your control. My father leaving me. The foster families I was tossed around from. Everything was out of my control.

Including what I felt for Brielle.

The feelings I had for her had a mind of their own. It was as though they had their own blood supply, and regardless of how many times I tried to shut it down, I could never find the source. Each time my heart beat, it fed them, forcing them to grow. It didn't matter how hard I tried to forget her. It didn't matter how many times I tried to focus on Delaney.

All I wanted was Brielle.

It was the way she smiled. When I made her laugh and she bowed her face, a small grin grew across her lips as she gazed up at me through her lashes. I walked around aimlessly trying to make her laugh. It was the way her cheeks flushed when she was frustrated. The way her lips puckered when she was amused. The way she looked at me.

How she teased me and slapped my arms when I said something inappropriate, or she tried to push me away by slamming her delicate hands on my chest.

It was the soft glances she gave me while the professor was discussing some building.

The way she bit her lower lip while she sketched that building.

I was done for.

She had cast her line with the most delectable bait possible.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

I was a fucking goner.

I tried to stay away. I tried to repeat to myself constantly that she was with Julian, my goddamn brother. Julian loved her. I couldn't blame him. I was dating her best friend, and her best friend loved me.

It was out of my control.

And things only got worse after our Christmas bash.

I had lost the bet, so I was forced to dress like Sexy Santa. I knew this would be a problem for Delaney, but a bet was a bet and this party was a tradition.

Our small house filled with our friends and their friends—people I’d never seen before. I made my way through the crowd and said hello to a few buddies, but every time the door opened, I looked for her.

I knew she was coming. I knew my brother was coming with her. And hell, my girlfriend would be there, too. But the need to see Brielle drove me mad.

I strolled into the kitchen and grabbed a beer. It was a mild December so the party had been pushed outside. Taking a swig of my beer, I made another lap to say hi to people I’d never seen before. I did anything to keep my sanity.  

Stu stumbled over to me as I made my way to the beer pong table. He had a bottle of Patron in his hand and a cocky smile on his face.

“Dude,” he slurred. “Take a shot.”

“Nah, man, I'm good.” I lifted my beer and took another swig.

“You're supposed to be fun, not an ass.”

“You don't want me to get fucked up before the party even starts, do you?”

Stu slurred something incoherent, poured another shot down his throat, and swallowed dramatically.

It was then that I spotted her. Ignoring Stu’s rant, I turned to face her. She was holding Julian's hand as she walked, and Delaney was to her left. She looked as if she belonged in a beauty magazine. Her hair was down in long loose curls that made me want to grab them at her nape. Oblivious to my own girlfriend, I watched from afar as she and Julian exchanged words. She slid her coat off her shoulders.

Fuck.

I begged my dick to stay down.

When Julian stormed away, I knew he was pissed and I know exactly
why
. In the few months I’d known Brielle, I’d never seen her in such a provocative dress. It made her legs look miles long even though she was petite. Brielle always looked innocent.

Until tonight.

I strolled over to them and was greeted with Delaney’s attitude. One glance from her and I knew to stay away until she had a few drinks. Ignoring the desire to be near Brielle, I let them go and focused on the party.

A few hours later, I spotted a happy Brielle on the dance floor. I knew she was a bit intoxicated as her eyes were glassed over and her cheeks were flushed. At first I was pissed because she was wandering the house alone, but then I realized she was
alone
.

Julian had left and Delaney had disappeared.

She smiled when she looked up at me, and I thought I would have a few moments with her, but then I was called away to take pictures. I only hoped that Brielle would still be alone when I returned.

But Brielle surprised me when she got in line to greet Santa. She stood, gnawing her lips until she was called to sit on my lap.

“Have you been naughty or nice?” I asked.  Her legs pressed against mine and I felt my erection grow. Resting my hands on the small of her back, I tried to focus on the task at hand. There was no way she couldn’t feel what she was doing to me.

“I want to be very naughty,” she whispered.

She’d crossed the line we’d both been dancing around for the past few months. She was drunk and her inhibitions were gone.

“Naughty?” I dared to ask. “I can help you with that.” I locked my gaze with hers.

“I need some air.”

I guided her out and to the side of the house. Shielding her from any bystanders, I desperately waited for the right moment to kiss her. I was almost there, mere inches from her lips. I ran my nose up her cheek, inhaling her scent.

It was then she got sick and the timing was ruined.

I held her hair as she emptied the contents of her stomach on the grass. Even puking she looked adorable. Her eyes were watery and her lips puckered in repulsion. “I need to go home.”

Brushing my hands through her hair, I cursed fate. She was the girl I wanted. “Come on, let's go.”

Within five minutes, I had her in my car and was heading toward her dorm. “Do you need to puke again?” She sat in the front seat, her gaze on the road.

“No, I need gum.” She searched for a piece until she found my pack in the center console. “I can’t believe I puked. I’m so embarrassed.” She covered her face. “It’s a good thing I won't remember this tomorrow.”

“You won’t?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “And because you’re my best friend, you have to never mention this night to me.”

“Really?” Since she seemed better, I decided to take the long way to her dorm.

“Yep. Julian is an ass, and Delaney left me. You’re all I have.”

“Delaney is probably knocked out in my bedroom,” I muttered when we got to a red light.

Brielle turned and faced me. “Can I tell you a secret?” Her words were meshed together. I nodded. “Pinky promise you won’t tell anyone?” She held up her pinky. I nodded again. “I kind of really hate the fact you’re with her,” she whispered. “I’m jealous she has you.”

Her words were music to my ears. “Can I tell you a secret, too?” I whispered. Her eyes widened and she nodded. “I really hate that you’re with Julian.”

Her gaze locked with mine until the asshole behind me beeped. The car was silent until she spoke a few minutes later. “You don’t have a right to be mad. Besides, we broke up after Thanksgiving. It’s not like I slept with him.” She shrugged.

“You broke up?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn't care to tell me?”

“Nope. I wanted you to feel a bit jealous.” She leaned her head on the seat and looked at me. “I like making you jealous because you do it to me. You’ve marked her as yours, and I hate it when she doesn’t come home because she’s with you.”

“So you do like me?”

Brielle rested her head on the seat and closed her eyes. Minutes later she responded. “You always want what you can’t have.”

“Trust me, I know.”

By the time we pulled up to her dorm she was peacefully sleeping. “Brie.”

“Hmm.”

“We’re here.”

I jogged around the car and helped her out. She leaned on me as we walked up the stairs and she fumbled with the key.

Handing it to me, she mumbled, “I can’t do it.”

I slid the key into the slot and pushed the door open. Brielle strolled to her bed, pulled the covers back, and climbed in. Digging through their make-shift kitchen, I found a bottle of water and some Advil.

“Nate,” she muttered.

“Yeah.”

“Half kisses are stupid.”

“I know.” I wrote out a note for her. “Maybe one day you’ll let me kiss you.”

“That’s if I don’t throw up on you first.” She giggled.

Placing the bottle of water and the note on her side table, I tucked her into bed. “It sucks that you won't remember this.” I brushed her hair away from her face.

“Maybe it’s better that way. I won't fall any further for you than I already have.” She smirked.

Shaking my head, I leaned forward and gently pressed my lips to the corner of hers. It was another half kiss, because when I fully kissed her I wanted her to remember it. “Goodnight, Brie,” I whispered and left her dorm knowing there was no way I could forget her.

Julian was out of the picture; he would be going home for winter break, while I stayed on campus to work. Delaney would be with her parents. I would find a way to spend every possible chance with Brielle.

C
hristmas Eve
.

Most of the student body had returned home for the holiday season. There were a few stragglers who stayed back and I was one of them. I realized after my first semester that traveling home for the six weeks wasn’t worth the trouble. I’d spend a fortune on gas and tolls, and there was always the chance of a snow shower along my drive. And after I got home I’d only miserable for the entire month and a half until I left again. Even though I loved my mother dearly, I hated my father. And my mother turned a blind eye to his whorish behavior.

I’d settle for staying on campus, jump-starting my workload for the following semester, and enjoying having my room all to myself. I loved Delaney, but being able to blast the music as loud as I wanted and not worrying about bothering my roommate was liberating.

Christmas alone
did
suck, though. I considered myself a tough person, but even I had a warm place in my heart when it came to Christmas. My father wasn’t always an asshole. If I dug deep, I’d find a memory of him carrying a Christmas tree into our house. My mother’s illness became severe when I was a young girl. I did have many happy memories, even though the bad outweighed the good.

Delaney had gone on her family’s Christmas vacation, and Julian was with his family, so I planned to throw myself a Christmas party with alcohol, carbs, and chocolate.

I placed my items on the conveyer belt of the local grocery store near campus and was greeted by a kind and familiar smile.

“Hey, Chloe,” I said as I grabbed a Snickers bar from the rack. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Brie.” She slid my items over the scanner one by one. “I thought you usually go home for the holidays.” Chloe was one of the few students I knew who actually lived in Charlotte.

“The drive is really long and it snows a lot in Chicago.” I shrugged. “I'm better off here.” She scanned another item and I tried to change the subject. “Working on Christmas Eve must really suck.”

“It's really not that bad. My parents don't do Christmas Eve dinner till much later in the evening, and since I'm working I don't have to help clean up the dishes while my mom cooks, which is kind of nice.”

I smiled. I’d forgotten what it was like to have a happy Christmas or what it was like to help my mother cook.

“Hey, thanks for taking Delaney home that night. I knew she had a lot to drink.” I put my items in a bag.

“What night? “She cocked her head to the side as she scanned my package of Oreos.

“The Christmas bash. At Nate's house.”

Chloe shook her head. “I didn't take her home.”

“Oh.”
Had I confused Chloe for someone else?
I shook my head quickly. “I'm sorry, I guess I misunderstood her.” I gave her a big smile. “Del gave me way too much to drink that night.”

“No biggie.” Chloe shrugged. “Your total is forty-six dollars and thirty two cents.”

I swiped my card, entered my pin, and waited until she gave me my receipt. “Thanks, Chloe. I'll see you around. Have a happy New Year if I don't see you.”

“You too, Brie.”

* * *

I
pulled
my car into the almost empty lot as I contemplated what to eat first, Oreos or ice cream. I had spent the last few hours at the market; I was obsessed with walking up and down every aisle. You’d be surprised how many people were in the store on Christmas Eve.

I popped the trunk open and hopped out of the car. It was then that I spotted him.

Nate
.

I hadn’t seen him since I puked. Our last two classes together were spent writing up papers about the buildings we saw, and I never contacted him again. Things between him and Delaney had changed, as well. She was still pissed that he was Santa. Thankfully, her anger bought me two weeks without his presence in my room, but she announced before she left that they made up and all was right in the world again. I was convinced he would be spending the holiday with Delaney as it was their first Christmas together.

Julian had gone home to his mother's house, and though he invited me a bunch of times to join them for Christmas dinner, I simply said no, and he gave me the space I asked for. He texted me periodically that he hoped I was well and that he missed me, but usually I ignored him.

Nate’s gaze met mine and he rubbed his hands together to warm them before he walked in my direction. “What are you doing here?” I asked, pulling the bags from my trunk.

“I do security around campus during the winter break. Need help?” He reached inside my car and took the three paper bags.

“Thanks.” I smiled up at him, a little more eager to see him than I should have been. “Where’s your security car?” I turned my head side to side. “And your uniform?”

He shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Fine.” A boyish grin grew on his face. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. I haven’t seen you since the Christmas bash, and when I didn’t see your light on, I figured you were out.”

“You could’ve called. No need to come all the way out here.” I cocked an eyebrow and began to walk toward my dorm.

“I could’ve and would’ve but I never got your number.”

“Ah.” I twirled back toward him. “That is true.”

“Plus, I figured I’d let you thank me in person.”

‘Thank you for what?”

“Well, let’s see. Holding your hair back as you puked. Bringing you home and carrying you up the stairs. Putting you to bed—”

“Okay!” I raised my hands for him to stop. “You’re right. Thank you, for taking care of me that night.”

Nate winked at me and Pandora’s box began to shake, demanding to be opened.

We walked up the two flights of stairs and I pulled my room key out of my purse. I pushed the door open and flicked the light on.  “Thanks for carrying those up. It would have taken me two trips.”

“No problem.” Nate lowered the bags to my computer table and looked over at me.

This was the first time we were alone—
really
alone. I fidgeted with my keys and refused to meet his gaze.

He cleared his throat. “What are you making?”

“Coquito.” I shoved my keys in my purse and removed my jacket. “My first semester here, Del and I shared a room with a Puerto Rican girl named Analia, and right before she left for break she made us each a bottle of it.” I walked over to the bags and pulled out the rum, condensed milk and other ingredients. “It’s like eggnog but so much better.”

“Looks like you’re planning a party.” He lifted a large bottle of Bacardi Silver.

“Do you want to try it?”

“Sure.” His green eyes were bright like emerald gems. His gray zipped sweater was loose around his torso but hugged his strong arms, and his black jeans were broken in and faded.
God, he looked delectable.

“Will it take long to make?”

I backed away from where we stood and opened my small fridge. Pulling out another bottle of Bacardi that was already filled with a milky concoction, I lifted it to show him. “I have a batch all set.”

“And this stuff?” He pointed to the ingredients in my bag.

“I’ll sip on this all night while I watch every Christmas movie known to man. And tomorrow is Christmas day, so in the event I run out, I have a backup stash.”

“Spoken like a true lush.” He shook his head in mock disapproval.

Ignoring his comment, I poured the Coquito into two red Solo cups and handed him one. “Cheers.” I lifted my cup up to him.

“Merry Christmas, Brielle,” he whispered.

I ignored the butterflies that instantly fluttered in my stomach and took a gulp of my drink. “Are you going back home tonight?”

I walked over to the couch. he pulled out a computer chair and sat across from me. “Nah, I’m staying around here. I’m working full time while we’re on break, so there’s no point.” He lifted the cup and took a sip. “Why are you still here?”

“The drive home sucks, and my dad isn’t the best person to be around.” I exhaled and took another gulp.

“Care to share?”

I pointed to the liquor bottle and motioned for him to hand it over. “I need more of that if you want the ugly truth.” His gaze met mine and he raised one eyebrow. “Oh,” I said sarcastically. “Don’t think I forgot about
your
ugly truth. If I give you mine, I need yours.”

“I guess you can kiss that bottle good-bye then, because my ugly truth isn’t ugly. It’s horrifying.” His voice was laced with seriousness and my heart clenched.

I filled my cup to the brim and handed him the bottle. I took a few big gulps and let the rum burn my throat going down. “My dad is an asshole.” I shook my head, I couldn’t believe I was finally about to admit to someone how fucked up my life at home really was, but there was something about Nate. He made me feel safe. Or maybe it was the alcohol, but if I had to guess, it was him.

“When I was five, my mother was diagnosed with Eisenmenger syndrome, a rare heart disorder. All of my parents’ savings went to pay her hospital bills. Since she was in and out of the hospital a lot for treatment, she was let go from her job.” I paused, not knowing if I could continue. I closed my eyes for a brief second and looked up at Nate. In his gaze I saw compassion.

“My dad worked two jobs to cover our mortgage and we eventually had to downsize from my mother’s dream home. She felt it was all her fault because she couldn’t find work, and my father turned to women and liquor as a way to relieve his stress. It wasn’t until much later that I learned my mother turned a blind eye and ignored that my father had affairs with countless women. She felt he resented her because they’d wanted a big family and she had a hard time getting pregnant with me. After her heart ordeal, they simply stopped trying.”

With a shaky hand, I brought the cup to my lips and took another sip. “We had to downsize again when my father stopped paying the mortgage.” I swallowed back the knot in my throat. “He pissed away my college tuition that my grandparents left me. My mother now works three odd-jobs to keep up with the household bills, and they live in a tiny two-bedroom home in a shady area. Any extra cash she has she gives to him because she feels he saved her. My mother will never see that the man she loves is a monster.”

My eyes closed for a brief moment and I felt a lone tear drop from my face. His finger brushed away the moisture and I gasped. I opened my eyes and found Nate crouched down in front of me.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke for the first time. I nodded and he returned to his chair. We sat in silence as I gathered my emotions.

“You might need more liquor for my story.”

I scoffed and kicked up my legs onto the coffee table. “Lay it on me, Wright.”

He poured more into his glass and took a few gulps before he began to speak. “My dad left my mother when I was two.” Confused, I felt my eyebrows pinch together. “Shortly afterward, she began using drugs and sex to cope with him leaving her. That’s what the foster system told me, anyway.

“When I was six years old, I went to live with a family in Mississippi. It was there I met Julian. He was four at the time, and he was a tiny kid. The people we lived with had five foster kids, and they beat the living crap out of us any time they had a shitty day. The first time Roger, my foster dad, hit Julian, was the first time I began to fight back. I was big for my age, and older than Julian, and if Roger wanted to hit one of us, I wanted it to be me. Julian was new to the system. He didn’t know that the people who were asked to care for him were worthless souls. And when you have an innocent child crying on your shoulder, it does something to you. So I stood up for him. From that point on, I became Roger’s punching bag. We lived with them for two years, and eventually the beatings didn’t bother me. I learned not to do things to piss them off, and the other kids, including Julian, were on their best behavior most of the time.”

Nate held his head low, his hands wrapped around the plastic red cup. His gaze was locked on the floor. “When I was eight, Roger was working on his car while we all played in the yard. He called out for me and asked me to go to our neighbor’s house to get him a Phillip’s head screwdriver. The second I placed it in his hand, he clenched his hand shut and slammed it across my face.”

I closed my eyes, hoping that this story would end soon.

“He chipped my tooth and I fell back on the gravel. He stood over me and swung a few times, hitting my ribs and face. It wasn't until he kicked me in the gut and I spit up blood that I realized I had enough. I stood up and spit blood at his face. I shouted that one day I would be as big as he was and, when he was least expecting it, I would kill him.”

I gasped.

His gaze locked with mine. “I was eight years old when I tried to kill him.” I closed my eyes, terrified of was he was about to tell me.

“A week after I threatened him, I took a knife from the kitchen and hid it under my mattress. He always rose during the night to use the bathroom. Most nights he was piss drunk and stumbled his way back to his room. I figured that would be the best time to do it. That night after dinner I told Julian I planned to kill Roger. We all went to bed, and when he got up to pee I reached under my mattress, but there was no knife. Someone had taken it. I heard footsteps from the bathroom and rushed to open the bedroom door, but to my surprise it was Janice, my foster mom, standing in the hallway. She told me to get to bed and to thank my little brother for saving me from doing something stupid.”