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When Christy slides on the stool next to me and smiles in a way she thinks is seductive, I lean into her ear. “Want to play tonight?” I ask, and kiss softly along her jaw to drive my point home. Her dull black hair smells like hairspray, not sweet and floral like Tori’s hair. It’s nauseating.
She giggles, and my gut clenches. The sound is grating, like a squeegee on glass. “Don’t I always, Hunter?” She giggles again. Referring to me as “Hunter” reminds me Christy is part of a crowd I hung out with in high school. She’s the cheerleader every football player fucked at least once. My teammates and I all went by our last names back then, and she’s obviously stuck in that delusional life. If she wasn’t necessary, I’d pawn her off on one of my buddies tonight.
Chapter 5
Tori
Liv leaves me at the table when a guy asks her to dance, promising me she won’t accept a drink if he offers. I eye the crowd for a while until nature calls, and I stand up to go to the bathroom. Slightly folded, I grab the table to steady myself before I move. I wait in the expected line, and cross my legs, bouncing like a toddler. After the longest pee of my life, I wash my hands and look in the mirror to find lipstick smeared across my cheek. No wonder Liv thinks something’s up.
Once I’ve washed off the clown face, I fling open the bathroom door only to see a couple going at it against the wall. The girl’s back is to me, and her jean-clad legs are wrapped around the guy’s waist. I blush, thinking that must be what Brady and I looked like outside.
When I glance down, a flash of familiarity lodges in my throat, and I choke on it, sobering instantly. I recognize those goddamn boots. Tan Timberlands laced loosely, with jeans tucked behind the tongue. Unfortunately, I recognize the guy wearing them, too. Not too long ago he hauled my ass out of this club and had his way with me up against a brick wall. Brady – stomp on my heart – Hunter.
A muffled giggle escapes the girl’s mouth as she buries her head in the crook of Brady’s neck. Brady lets out an erotic-sounding groan and throws his head back against the wall with his eyes closed. His teeth bite into his lower lip, and a light above his head shines along his jaw as it shifts back and forth.
Why I’m watching this? I have no idea. But I can’t move, like the wedges in my sandals are made of bricks. The girl whispers something in Brady’s ear, and a sexy-as-all-getup grin etches deep in his face. She slides down his body to her knees. Her long ebony hair sways as she reaches for his zipper. No way in hell is she going to… Yes way in hell, she is. She is going to suck him off right here in this hallway. I shouldn’t be surprised. That’s just the kind of girl he likes. Brady’s hand is on the back of her head, his eyes still closed.
My fingers cover my mouth as I struggle to breathe. I’m just about to move my feet when his eyes pop open, locking with mine. He shoves his little fuck-buddy aside and is pulling up his zipper when I finally manage to run.
I hear her scream his name and I hear him yell mine, but I keep my feet moving so I don’t have to face him. I run full speed until I get to Liv’s car. Practically ripping her door off, I jump inside and lock the door. Liv never locks her door when we go out, joking she may need to make a quick getaway. She puts the keys in the gas cap so she doesn’t have to carry anything inside the club except her I.D., which she hides in her bra. As many times as I tease her that it’s hard to make a quick exit if your keys are in the gas cap, I could kiss her face right now.
Feet pound into the concrete as footsteps echo off the cement walls of the parking structure, and then his face comes into view. Brady stops, flashing a suggestive gotcha smile. He walks the rest of the way to the car with his hands tucked into his pockets. As mad as I am at him, he’s still the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen, with way more sex appeal than any one person needs. If he only had something decent on the inside to offer me, I wouldn’t be locked in this car right now, seething mad and admittedly hurt.
His face twists irritably when he lifts the door handle, discovering it’s locked. Basking in my victory, I smirk at him through the window, and then his face lifts to something smug, an “I know where the key is” look. I pull my knees up between the steering wheel and my body, and wrap my arms around my legs. When Brady opens the gas cap and unlocks the car, I almost cry. God, I hate him!
The passenger door opens, and he slides in. The door closes, but he doesn’t speak. I will not cry. When his hand slides across my shoulder to the back of my neck, I whip my head around, glaring at him with revulsion.
I unfold my legs, and sit up in the seat. “Don’t fucking touch me, Brady!”
He pulls his hand away, and places it on his knee, sliding it back and forth across his jeans. He breathes a sharp intake of air. “I deserve that.”
I roll my eyes. He deserves much worse than that. “Just go back to your blow job, Brady. I don’t want you here.”
He leans over the console. The space closing between us is too intense, and I’m weak. I refuse to look at him, knowing I won’t stay mad if I do. “I’m not leaving you alone in a parking garage, Tori.”
My face breaks into an indignant smile, and I finally look over at him. “Why the hell not?”
“Because I’ll worry about you,” he answers, his mouth partly hanging open and his eyebrows bunched together.
Oh, now he’s going to be gentlemanly.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “You’re worried about me alone in a locked car in a very public parking garage, but you didn’t worry that I might catch you getting a B.J. from some ho in the middle of a club. God, and I thought I had issues. You’re seriously fucked up, Brady. You know that, right?”
He rests his head against the seat back. His chin lifts when he looks up at the car roof, accentuating the curve of his throat. I chew on the inside of my lip and curse myself for thinking how much I would like to crawl on top of him and kiss that very spot.
His breaths are heavy and regretful. “Yeah, I know I’m fucked up.”
I position my body so that I’m facing him now, anger simmering just below the surface. “What was all that back there, Brady? What was with the whole ‘I’m not done with you’ comment? Were you just trying to hurt me? You succeeded, okay? Now get the hell out of here.”
He twists around so quickly I haven’t even caught my breath when he grabs my face. His hands on both sides of my jaw push into my skin. His forehead rests on mine, and he lets out a long, warm breath of air. My eyes move to his lips. Why do I want him to kiss me again?
“I don’t ever want to hurt you, Tor. That’s why I…” His mouth covers mine, and I foolishly open to him, too weak to stop myself. His kiss is slow and passionate, like he’s apologizing with his mouth. He sucks on my bottom lip and then pulls away, licking his lips before he speaks. “Christ, look, I’m toxic, like fucking poison, nothing instant, though — I’m something slow and painful, and you don’t need that in your life.”
As the words are leaving his mouth, I catch something in what he says. Prying his hands from my skin, I scream at him, “Wait, you did that back there on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted me to see.” I do a lousy job of hiding my rage, and his silence tells me I’m right. “I hate you, Brady.”
“Good, I need you to hate me, Victor
ia.”
