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I wake, hearing talking in the other room. Rubbing my eyes, I look at the clock on his dresser to see that I’ve been asleep for almost three hours. Pushing the covers off, I get out of his warm bed and pad down the hallway toward the living room.
The three have their heads together as they talk. As I make my way closer, I hear them mention Dax. My mind goes back to class and the creepy way he stared at me. How freaky it is that they look almost identical. They could be twins.
Jagger looks up. “Hey, little girl.” He lifts a hand for me. As I make my way to him, the others don’t say a word, almost like they’re okay with the idea of us together.
“Hey,” I say, grasping his hand and squeezing. He moves to wrap his arm around my waist. None of them ever wanted Jagger and me to be more than just friends. Every time one of them caught me watching him, I would get told to stay away from him and that I deserved better.
Their warnings never did anything but push me closer to him, made me want him more. Maybe it was wanting to be the one to change him, but it didn’t matter. As long as his attention was on me for even a brief moment, it was worth it.
“What’s going on?” I look between the three of them, but no one says a word. When I take a seat on Jagger’s lap, their mouths hang open.
“You realize you’re playing with fire, right?” Mad asks.
“Oh, good. You still remember how to speak.” I roll my eyes and stand back up, putting a little bit of distance between Jagger and me. When he starts to laugh, I punch his shoulder. He can be such a dick sometimes. I know he’s baiting them, but so was I. I wanted to find out how they’d feel if Jagger and I ever got together.
“Hitting me only turns me on,” Jagger whispers just loud enough for me to hear him, causing chills to break out over my skin.
“If you two start whatever this…” Beckett motions between the two of us, “is, you’re out of the group fucking. We don’t need more shit to deal with, and jealous girlfriends aren’t part of the deal we have.”
I raise an eyebrow, placing a hand on my hip. “Who says I even care that he’s fucking whores?”
They all look at me like I’ve grown a second head. Perfect.
“We all know you’ve been in love with this dick since you were, like, thirteen. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.” Beck grins at me. I wrinkle my nose, shaking my head as I take a seat next to Jagger. “Plus, we all know you fucked last year…and probably last night.”
I’m sure my face has now turned a few different shades of red. I bury it in Jagger’s shoulder, but I can feel the silent laughter as it wracks through his hard, sexy body. I pinch his side, which just causes him to laugh out loud.
“We aren’t stupid, kid. We all know you’ve always had feelings for him. That’s why, when you hit seventeen, Ridge kept you two apart. He didn’t want you guys fucking, even though Maddox and I knew it was just a matter of time before it happened.”
“So why is everyone so against us dating then?” My curiosity is killing me. If they knew it was bound to happen, why be dicks about it all the damn time? I look around at their faces, but not one of them says a word. “Is it because of Ridge? What aren’t you telling me?” I look at Jagger. He typically doesn’t lie to me. He’s always told me the truth, even when he knew it would hurt me. During the time my brother was in rehab, he was the one who told me about Ridge’s addiction. “Jagger?”
“Bres, let’s just say that your brother would use some pretty bad shit to ruin Jagger here,” Mad says sullenly.
My eyes widen as I continue to stare at him. What could he have done that is so bad? Why would my brother try to hurt him if we dated?
I watch his teeth clink slightly on his lip ring as his expression turns dark. Whatever he did must have been bad for him not to tell me about it.
I grab my wine glass from earlier and down the rest of the contents before stomping into the kitchen like a child. I know it’s not very mature, but I don’t care. I will continue to act like a damn child until one of those assholes tells me the truth. Nothing can be that bad.
Pouring a healthy amount of wine into my glass, I leave the bottle on the counter and start to stalk toward his bedroom. Turning around, I walk back into the kitchen to grab the bottle so I don’t have to come out again. Since they want to be secretive dicks, I’m getting drunk. It’s not like I have any other plans tonight since I haven’t heard from Ireland since she ditched me for Mr. Football.
I feel all their eyes on me as I make my way to the bedroom. I raise my hand, the one holding the wine bottle, and flip them off. Curses and chuckles fill the room, but I don’t care. Fuck them.
The splitting pain radiating through my skull right now is the only thing I can concentrate on. Once I finished the first bottle of wine, I stumbled out and grabbed another from the kitchen. Seeing me having trouble opening it, Jagger told me to go to bed. I tried to punch him in the junk again. I missed, but he got the message loud and clear. He opened the bottle before sending me back to his room.
My stomach rolls as I open my eyes, push his arm off me, and run to the bathroom, collapsing on the floor in front of the toilet. After puking up my guts, several times, I feel even worse than before. Warm hands reach under my arms and lift me up to my feet. I hear the shower get turned on, and it doesn’t take long for him to nudge me under the stream of hot water.
His naked body presses against mine as he holds me up for a few minutes while I try to get my bearings. Never again am I drinking that much wine. My stomach rolls again and I hunch over, pressing my ass into his front. He reaches forward and pulls my hair back so I can dry heave for the next five minutes.
“You, little girl, are never dull,” he chuckles. As much as I love the sound, it irks me, sounding louder than I ever thought possible.
“Shut the fuck up,” I moan. Rubbing my fingers against my temples, I try taking deep breaths to keep from puking again. This is why I never drink. I get the worst hangovers ever. I learned that in high school, so I never drank much after that. But with everything that happened last night, it was only way I could cope. Plus, those shits still never told me what the secret was.
I’m still bitter about that.
“Don’t worry. I got you.” he whispers, running his hand up and down my back gently as he blocks most of the water from hitting me in the back of the head.
When I know I’m not going to throw up again, I turn and press my body to his. My face rests against his warm skin and I close my eyes. “I feel like I might die,” I whine, not wanting to move. He’s comfortable, and I like feeling his fingers brushing against my skin.
