Fixation, page 2
I was certain my roommate would be a spoiled brat, but, in fact, she’s the most down-to-earth, kind person I’ve ever met.
I grew up with my mother being a teacher and my father a farmer in a very rural area of Kansas. They struggled for everything we had, and I knew if I wanted to go to college at a big state school, I’d have to work to get it. So, I wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of having a “rich” girl for a roommate.
I was wrong to judge and have made it a point not to do that in the future, but Mr. Douchebag sitting in front of me?
I’m not wrong about him.
“I don’t remember you.”
His eyes meet mine with an icy, confident stare. “You will now.”
What an arrogant motherfucker.
I walk back to Brandon’s house, a few blocks from the Aggieville diner I chose for breakfast to try to curb the hangover from last night.
I have no idea why I decided to seek Brandon out. I hadn’t even seen him since Christmas like what, nine months ago?
He’s living the sober, miserable, fucking mundane life now. He used to be one hell of a partier, I mean, we met in parent-appointed rehab, for Christ’s sake. Neither of us had ever taken it seriously, but then he met Gabby, and everything changed.
I’m happy for the poor bastard. At least, as happy as I can be. He left me with his late father’s house and moved into a shitty little apartment in Kansas City until he decided to uproot and move to Manhattan while his girl finishes school.
He left me a voicemail telling me where I could reach him, but even though we lived in the same area code, I didn’t see him much.
He tried to get me to see the light once after he chose his new path, but I quickly shut that shit down.
I’m not like Brandon. I mean, sure, we come from the same privileged background, fancy cars, bigass houses, unlimited funds, all of that, but I don’t have a tragic past that lead me down a “bad” road. His life was totally fucked-up with an abusive father who pimped him out when he was really young.
And I don’t have a problem with drugs and alcohol, I just like them. A lot.
I reach the porch of the rental house right off campus, and Brandon is sitting on the steps. “Feel better?”
I laugh at that and hop up to the top step, taking a seat next to him. “Nah, I’ll grab a pick-me-up tonight.” I look around his neighborhood. “There have to be some parties the night before classes start, right?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
I roll my eyes, completely over this AA version of my friend. “Oh, you fucking know. There was a time when college parties were your bread and butter.”
“Blake . . .” I know Brandon’s warning tone by now, but it doesn’t bother me. To be scared, you have to be capable of fear, which means you’ve allowed yourself to feel, and I don’t do that.
“What? Can’t even talk about the old days?”
“I said you can stay here, even took a little heat from Gabby for it, but if you fuck with my sobriety, you’re gone.”
“Aw, is that what’s wrong? She withholding pussy? Because looking around . . .”
I notice his fists flexing at his sides. He’s still the same Brandon, just locked in the cage of so-called normalcy. “Stop.”
“Right.” I hold my hands up in the air, mocking surrender. “Only Gabby for you.”
“Damn straight.”
I stand up on the top step. “More pussy for me. You know me, I’m a fan of all you can eat.” I look around seeing a pair of blond co-eds, both dressed in short shorts and sports bras jogging past, their eyes locked on Brandon and me as they run past, giggling. “And this looks like the best place for me.”
Brandon stands, and I hear him sigh. “Why did you come here all beat to hell?”
He didn’t ask for an explanation when I showed up early this morning in a cab from the airport. It’s not his style, and I’m sure he assumed from my eye and hands that I was in some sort of fight.
The truth is, after I was released from the hospital a few days ago, I realized I was getting slightly out of control in my boredom and maybe I needed to pull it back a bit.
Not entirely. But enough so I don’t end up six feet under any time soon. And what is a better cure for boredom than a college town with a ton of hot chicks looking to party?
Of course, the waitress chick at the diner didn’t really scream “good time,” although she did slightly amuse me until I remembered why she looked so familiar to me.
She’s Gabby’s best friend, and I’m smart enough to know that makes her off-limits while I’m staying with Brandon and Gabby. That fucker gets mean when it comes to his girl, and I don’t mess with him when he’s mad, unless I’m really fucking out of things to do.
But she was fucking hot, that’s for sure. And she seemed slightly impervious to my charm, although I’m certain most of that was an act. Her light, brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun on her head, and those stormy, gray eyes were almost haunting when she walked over to my table, worn and tired but still beautiful.
Barely any makeup on that pretty face that frankly didn’t need it. Pale, pink lip gloss on those full, heart-shaped lips. Her thick, perfectly-shaped eyebrows gave away her real emotions and how irritated she was with me, which of course I ate up.
I couldn’t stop picturing her naked the entire time she served me with quiet repugnance. The jeans she had on didn’t give too much away, but they did show off a firm ass with at least a palmful of each cheek available. The white t-shirt, with orange collar and the word “trouble” printed on it gave away even less, but I could tell by the white, cotton bra I could see underneath that she has a nice set of tits, on the smaller side, but still full.
Of course, I’m not a total idiot, so I say none of that to Brandon. He doesn’t even need to know I ran into Elle. I think that’s her name. I remember him mentioning her once or twice. I think she’s the only friend Gabby has. “Just needed a change of scenery.”
“What the hell are you going to do while you’re here?”
I shrug, winking at a girl across the street unlocking her car. She smiles over at me, tosses her hair and climbs into her car. “I’m sure I can find something.”
“Look, I’m not the same person I was a few years ago, drinking and debauchery aren’t my things anymore.”
“And that was your fucking choice.”
He’s in my face now, not happy with me. “That’s right. It was my fucking choice to be sober and stay away from my old life. If you’re going to be here, you’re not going to be shoving your bad fucking decisions in my face.”
His jaw ticks, and I stand tall, perfectly fine with his anger. “I’ll be on my best behavior when I’m under your roof.”
Gotta love loopholes like that.
“You wanna come work with me?”
Do not laugh at him. He doesn’t like that. He started working for Gabby’s older brother at his custom car place and said he really liked it. So, he found a place out here to hire him. I personally think it’s bullshit, knowing how much he has in his bank account after his father died. I mean, he was the only heir to a massive fortune and still the fucker wants to work? An actual job? It doesn’t make any sense to me.
I take a seat on the top seat again and people-watch. “No thanks.”
“It’ll keep you busy.”
“I’ll be busy enough.” I hold my hands up, silencing him before he can lecture me again. “When I’m not here.”
He takes a seat next to me. “You ever think about rehab?”
“Nope.” Now that I’m not a minor, my mother has given up. She’s since gained praise for trying so hard with me while I was under her care and then letting me go for my own good. Of course, I still have access to my trust fund, can’t have me living in squalor. That wouldn’t look good, and her reputation is important to her.
It’s about the only thing that is.
He knew that would be my answer. “Okay. So, what happened to your face? I know it’s your pride and joy.”
I laugh at that and cringe, smoothing a hand over my still sore ribs. “Big motherfucker.”
He nods, and I let him continue to assume. “Never could keep your mouth shut.”
I smirk. “Never wanted to.”
“Just stay out of trouble, and you’re welcome to the spare room.”
He stands up and walks inside as I stay seated out on the porch, looking around at the town I’ll call home for a few weeks until the mood strikes to leave.
I make no fucking promises, Brandon.
“Oh my God, I’ve missed you!” I hug Gabby, and she laughs lightly as I hold on to her.
“I saw you last night.”
“I still miss the hell out of you.” I finally release her, and we both sit down at one of the tables of our favorite coffee house.
“I know, I miss you like crazy already.”
Enough to come back?
That’s a terrible thought. I know she’s happy. I won’t impede her happiness.
“You ready for school to start tomorrow?”
I love school. I grew up in a small town with very few people, which was the way I liked it, but there wasn’t much of anything else. No fancy coffee houses, no bookstores, no real means of learning besides the public school with overworked teachers who just wanted to get through the day.
Of course, there were some good teachers, my mom included. But even her passion for teaching and learning extinguished over the years.
“I am. What about you, Gabby?”
She nods her head happily, enjoying her education as well. “I am. I hope I can get everything else unpacked tonight.”
I look at the clock on my phone. “I have to be at the bar in thirty minutes and can’t leave until eleven or I’d offer to help you.”
She smiles. “You’ve helped enough. And do you ever sleep?”
Not really. “I’m fine. I’ll sleep when I get home. My first class isn’t until nine tomorrow morning.”
I notice the look of concern in her eyes. Gabby can’t help it. She’s a beautiful soul who wants to rescue everyone she meets, and she’s always offering to help me. But I like staying busy. I’m okay with hard work, knowing that someday my dreams will come true and I’ll graduate and land the job I’ve always wanted.
“I just hate how difficult this road has been for you.”
“It’s really not that bad, Gabs. I’m fine.” She doesn’t believe me, but I now know she has her own problems. “So, a guy came into the diner today . . .”
“Tell me more.” Her smile is bright and hopeful as she sips her caramel macchiato.
“Total douchebag.”
She snorts in laughter as she clears her throat and pats her chest. “So, not a love story.”
“I’ve told you a million times, Gabby, I’m not looking for a romance. Book boyfriends are more than enough for me.”
“That can’t be true, Elle. I love you to death. And I love books, but no one can live with only their company.”
I shrug. “I use the occasional penis when I need to.”
She bursts out laughing again, her beautiful, light laugh enough to make me join her. “Not at all interested in what’s attached?”
“Never.”
It’s true. There are rarely any men who can even momentarily gain my attention, so I go on the occasional, quick app-date here and there. Get mine, and then I’m out. I don’t need any distractions anyway.
She takes another sip of her sweet drink. “So, this douchebag? Why is he worth the mention?”
“Because he’s now living in your house.”
Her shocked expression tells me he didn’t say a word. “Blake?”
Is that his name? I never asked, and I couldn’t remember it earlier. “If that’s the douchebag staying with you, yes.”
I miss living with her already. This would have been thoroughly talked about by now if we did. Of course, would that mean Blake would be staying with me too? I don’t know, my head hurts.
“Are you okay with him staying with you?’
Her small shoulders sag, and she sighs softly. “I’m worried. He showed up, bag in hand, at our front door at five in the morning with a black-eye and cut hands, just expecting to stay with us indefinitely. And Brandon, of course, asked me first, but what was I supposed to say?”
Hell no. “If you were concerned, I think you could have told Brandon. He loves you and will put you first.”
“I know, but I couldn’t turn Blake away either. He clearly needs help.”
“Clearly.”
She laughs slightly at that. “I’m afraid it’ll cause Brandon to use again.”
Gabby is a superior human. She has the ability to not push shit away and actually voice her fears, unlike most people. Her only fault is that she cares too damn much. She’s the type who’ll rescue every lost puppy no matter how many times it bites her.
“Did you tell him that?”
She shakes her head. “He doesn’t need to think I believe he’s capable of failing because I know he won’t. But Blake is . . .”
“An asshole.”
She laughs again and then nods her head with her bottom lip poked out. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t know him well and haven’t been around him much even today, but yeah. He’s arrogant and acts as if he literally doesn’t care about anything.”
“I don’t think that’s an act, Gabs. I don’t think that guy does care about anything short of getting high and getting laid.”
“Well, I won’t let him wreck Brandon’s progress. I just need to be diligent.”
“And what? Babysit him? And Brandon? These are grown men we are talking about, Gabby.”
“They’re addicts. One who won’t admit it and one who is teetering on the edge.”
It’s not my place to tell her to kick that asshole to the curb, but I’m incredibly worried about my best friend.
And Brandon by default.
Then she does what Gabby does and brushes it off, changing the subject. “So, no dates lately then?”
I groan, placing both my hands over my face. “No.”
“I just want you to be happy.”
I lower my hands slowly. “I am happy. I truly am. I work a lot. I know that drives you crazy, but it keeps me happy. I go to school and am working toward my degree, and then if I have free time, I hang out with my best friend in the world or get lost in a book. I’m happy, Gabby.”
She smiles as she nods and then sighs again. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be annoying, and believe me, as someone who had everyone telling me who I was, I get it. Just know you can talk to me.”
“I know that. And you need to know that I don’t leave things out.”
“We don’t live together anymore. It’s going to be harder.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her to me. “Not for us, Gabs. It’s you and me.”
She rests her head on my shoulder and sips her coffee. “You’re welcome over any time.”
“Same. And I offer a boy-free zone.”
“Now that, I may definitely need soon.”
I miss her so much already, but I just have to keep my focus.
“Elle, help Ophelia man the bar for me will ya, gorgeous?” I look over at my boss, Knox—twenty-nine, tall, rugged, dark hair and eyes, and a fucking British accent. All the girls who work here seek this fucker out like he’s the last drink in the Sahara.
And he is fucking delicious, don’t get me wrong. But he knows it.
He adds a wink for good measure, knowing, like all the other pathetic hussies around, I’ll do what he wants.
Sad really, but what are you gonna do?
I’ll never forget when I came into the bar, looking for a job when I turned twenty-one, I may have actually drooled during my interview. But as usual, there’s no spark there, no real connection. Occasional flirting, but nothing real.
And I’m more than okay with that.
“God, when in the hell is he going to take me up on my offer?”
I look over at Ophelia, the petite, gorgeous, auburn-haired beauty who’s been working here a year longer than me. I really like her, which is saying something for me. “You mean to let him take you to his office and defile the hell out of you?”
She laughs at that, handing a customer their drink. “God, yes.” She watches him as he makes the rounds through the crowded bar, flashing his white smile and working the thirsty bitches in the bar.
It’s a Wednesday night, but the bar is flooded with students celebrating their last night of freedom before classes start tomorrow. That, coupled with the drink specials, has led to a busy night. I was supposed to be off by eleven, but Knox asked me to stay until midnight, and I didn’t pass up the extra money.
Thirty more minutes and I can head upstairs to my apartment, maybe get in a chapter or two before passing out or staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the bar to close at two and quiet down.
“Well, holy shit. Screw Knox.” My head turns toward Ophelia. The girl is in heat, fanning herself as she zeroes in on her prey. “This guy looks like a sure thing.”
I roll my eyes. Like I said, I like Ophelia, but she is relentless, always looking for her next “relationship,” and I use that word lightly, considering she dated the last guy for all of six days.
But honestly, to each their own. I say do what makes you happy. I laugh and look up just as the next love of Ophelia’s life approaches the bar. My heart jumps in my throat as I’m met with cold, icy blue eyes.
Ophelia tosses her hair over her shoulder, throwing her shoulders back and putting forward her impressive double-D assets but looks over at me with curiosity when I groan. “No.”
Blake just smirks, zoning in on me and missing Ophelia’s stacked cleavage. “Elle.”
Ophelia looks at me with eager questioning. “You know him?”
“No.” My eyes stay trained on the asshole from the diner this morning, the man who’s now living with my best friend.
Three regulars at the end of the bar struggle to get Ophelia’s attention, and she reluctantly leaves us to tend to them, eying me suspiciously as she walks away.
