“Okay.” I raked a hand through my hair, my chest still heaving. I felt drunk from him. My pulse was still throbbing. I had to get out of there. Making my way back up the stairs, I ignored the kitchen, even though I felt the memory still there, lingering in the back of my mind. I stepped off the porch and headed for the sidewalk when I heard a movement and glanced over.
Elijah was standing on the sidewalk, just a few feet from me. His hands were in his sweatshirt, with the hood up, and he smirked at me. “When are you going to grow some balls and tell him what happened?”
“Shut up.” Now was so not the time. “I only told you because I was drunk one night.”
“It wasn’t your fault what happened to him.”
Yes, it was. “Go away, Elijah.”
He nodded and turned around. Before he left, he glanced back. “I came to make sure you were okay, you know.”
“Just go.” We were done. We were over. He needed to leave. “Focus on whatever you do nowadays. Selling drugs, expanding your fucked-up empire, whatever it is. I’m not a part of it anymore.”
He bit out a laugh and started to move forward. “You never were, Bri. I always kept you pure.”
I snorted at the thought. Pure. I was the furthest thing from that.
A soft laugh came from him as he walked down the sidewalk. The sound faded as he disappeared around the block. It sent a chill through me, but I ignored it and crossed the street back to my apartment building. Not that I expected to get any sleep.
“So, the band’s name is Braille, right?”
I stopped filling a bowl with chips as Dustin grabbed a handful of them, filled his mouth, and grabbed for a second handful. He had become an almost permanent fixture next to me when he showed up earlier. After dinner with our mom, Braden made me come to a party at Luke’s house. I hadn’t wanted to go, but he told me the band would play at some point during the night, so I didn’t feel like I could turn it down. I was in the band. I had to be there. And because I sucked at being social, sign me up for chip duty.
“Dustin, why are you here again?”
“Because you guys are awesome.” He licked his fingers and reached for another handful. I knocked his arm aside and filled a separate bowl. His eyes lit up, but before he could reach for it, I gave him the entire first bowl. He added, “And because of future pussy. I know there’s going to be mountains and mountains of vagina buffets. I already told you earlier that I’m not dumb. You guys are going to be dripping—” He stopped at my glare. “Well, not you, because you know,” he gestured to my chest, “you have a mighty fine rack yourself.”
“Dustin!”
“I’m just stating the obvious. You’re a chick. You’re not going to get those juices, well, unless you bat for the other team. I’d be all for that.” He winked at me.
“I’m going to neuter you.”
“Oh. Kay. Back to the first question.” He continued to beam at me, his cheeks plump and moving around as he ate his chips. Around a mouthful, he asked again, “So, the band’s name is Braille, right?”
I groaned, but went back to the cupboards for more chips. “Yes. Why do you keep asking?”
Keeping his bowl of chips close to his chest, he followed behind me. “The band’s name was kinda named after you, right? Brielle. Braille. I get that part.”
“Yes,” I clipped out, walking around a group of girls chugging their beer. “Brielle and Braden. The guys thought it was funny. Why?”
“I remember when you guys first started the band, but you left it, right?”
I was gritting my teeth. For some reason, this guy was getting on my last nerve. “Dustin,” I warned.
He leaned over my shoulder, too close for comfort. “Yeah?”
“Get to the point and then back the fuck off me.”
“Oh.” He moved his body back, but continued to lean forward so his head was right next to my ear. “That better?”
“No.” I grabbed the rest of the chips and wound back through the crowd. Instead of filling the bowls, I just dumped the bags onto the tables. People could do with them what they pleased. Then I went in search for Braden.
Dustin went with me. “So yeah,” he kept going with his question, “you quit the band, and they kept the name, but now you’re back with them?”
“Yes. So what?”
He stuffed another handful of chips into his mouth and shrugged, cocking his head to the side. “I guess nothing. I’m just trying to get all the history down in my head.”
Spying Braden in a corner with Luke, I veered toward them. They were surrounded by a group of girls. No surprise there.
“For what?” I asked Dustin.
“I’ll make a great head roadie. Putting that out there.”
As I got next to my brother’s side, I rotated my head toward Dustin, taking in his over six-foot frame. He appeared to be a mix of all-American-boy and preppy-douchebag-frat-boy. His blue eyes, blond wavy hair, and square jaw made him look like an innocent, nice guy.
“Dustin,” I said.
“Hmm?” He flicked at his earlobe. “All ears here.” He chuckled to himself, putting another chip into his mouth.
“You were a popular jock in school with us.”
He bobbed his head up and down. “I’m with you. I was.”
“Your parents are rich.”
A second bob, followed with another wink. “Still are, I believe.”
“You got kicked out of Harvard, right?”
“Oh, yeah. Too much booze and chicks.” His head was continuously moving up and down, going along with each question I asked. “Living the carefree life, I might add.”
“And you’re kissing my ass because you’re hoping for a future spot as the head roadie with the band?”
“Yep. If you guys will have me.”
“Why?” I was dumbfounded. “You should be interning at your dad’s company, whatever it is that made Forbes magazine.”
He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “See. That’s why. I don’t want that responsibility, not yet anyway. Here I am. Living a hobo-lifestyle.” He patted the bowl. “Got my chips.” He gestured to Braden and Luke. “Got some future rock star friends.” Then he sent a charming wink at the group of girls who had been talking to Braden and Luke. “And hopefully some future ass, too.”
Elijah was standing on the sidewalk, just a few feet from me. His hands were in his sweatshirt, with the hood up, and he smirked at me. “When are you going to grow some balls and tell him what happened?”
“Shut up.” Now was so not the time. “I only told you because I was drunk one night.”
“It wasn’t your fault what happened to him.”
Yes, it was. “Go away, Elijah.”
He nodded and turned around. Before he left, he glanced back. “I came to make sure you were okay, you know.”
“Just go.” We were done. We were over. He needed to leave. “Focus on whatever you do nowadays. Selling drugs, expanding your fucked-up empire, whatever it is. I’m not a part of it anymore.”
He bit out a laugh and started to move forward. “You never were, Bri. I always kept you pure.”
I snorted at the thought. Pure. I was the furthest thing from that.
A soft laugh came from him as he walked down the sidewalk. The sound faded as he disappeared around the block. It sent a chill through me, but I ignored it and crossed the street back to my apartment building. Not that I expected to get any sleep.
“So, the band’s name is Braille, right?”
I stopped filling a bowl with chips as Dustin grabbed a handful of them, filled his mouth, and grabbed for a second handful. He had become an almost permanent fixture next to me when he showed up earlier. After dinner with our mom, Braden made me come to a party at Luke’s house. I hadn’t wanted to go, but he told me the band would play at some point during the night, so I didn’t feel like I could turn it down. I was in the band. I had to be there. And because I sucked at being social, sign me up for chip duty.
“Dustin, why are you here again?”
“Because you guys are awesome.” He licked his fingers and reached for another handful. I knocked his arm aside and filled a separate bowl. His eyes lit up, but before he could reach for it, I gave him the entire first bowl. He added, “And because of future pussy. I know there’s going to be mountains and mountains of vagina buffets. I already told you earlier that I’m not dumb. You guys are going to be dripping—” He stopped at my glare. “Well, not you, because you know,” he gestured to my chest, “you have a mighty fine rack yourself.”
“Dustin!”
“I’m just stating the obvious. You’re a chick. You’re not going to get those juices, well, unless you bat for the other team. I’d be all for that.” He winked at me.
“I’m going to neuter you.”
“Oh. Kay. Back to the first question.” He continued to beam at me, his cheeks plump and moving around as he ate his chips. Around a mouthful, he asked again, “So, the band’s name is Braille, right?”
I groaned, but went back to the cupboards for more chips. “Yes. Why do you keep asking?”
Keeping his bowl of chips close to his chest, he followed behind me. “The band’s name was kinda named after you, right? Brielle. Braille. I get that part.”
“Yes,” I clipped out, walking around a group of girls chugging their beer. “Brielle and Braden. The guys thought it was funny. Why?”
“I remember when you guys first started the band, but you left it, right?”
I was gritting my teeth. For some reason, this guy was getting on my last nerve. “Dustin,” I warned.
He leaned over my shoulder, too close for comfort. “Yeah?”
“Get to the point and then back the fuck off me.”
“Oh.” He moved his body back, but continued to lean forward so his head was right next to my ear. “That better?”
“No.” I grabbed the rest of the chips and wound back through the crowd. Instead of filling the bowls, I just dumped the bags onto the tables. People could do with them what they pleased. Then I went in search for Braden.
Dustin went with me. “So yeah,” he kept going with his question, “you quit the band, and they kept the name, but now you’re back with them?”
“Yes. So what?”
He stuffed another handful of chips into his mouth and shrugged, cocking his head to the side. “I guess nothing. I’m just trying to get all the history down in my head.”
Spying Braden in a corner with Luke, I veered toward them. They were surrounded by a group of girls. No surprise there.
“For what?” I asked Dustin.
“I’ll make a great head roadie. Putting that out there.”
As I got next to my brother’s side, I rotated my head toward Dustin, taking in his over six-foot frame. He appeared to be a mix of all-American-boy and preppy-douchebag-frat-boy. His blue eyes, blond wavy hair, and square jaw made him look like an innocent, nice guy.
“Dustin,” I said.
“Hmm?” He flicked at his earlobe. “All ears here.” He chuckled to himself, putting another chip into his mouth.
“You were a popular jock in school with us.”
He bobbed his head up and down. “I’m with you. I was.”
“Your parents are rich.”
A second bob, followed with another wink. “Still are, I believe.”
“You got kicked out of Harvard, right?”
“Oh, yeah. Too much booze and chicks.” His head was continuously moving up and down, going along with each question I asked. “Living the carefree life, I might add.”
“And you’re kissing my ass because you’re hoping for a future spot as the head roadie with the band?”
“Yep. If you guys will have me.”
“Why?” I was dumbfounded. “You should be interning at your dad’s company, whatever it is that made Forbes magazine.”
He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “See. That’s why. I don’t want that responsibility, not yet anyway. Here I am. Living a hobo-lifestyle.” He patted the bowl. “Got my chips.” He gestured to Braden and Luke. “Got some future rock star friends.” Then he sent a charming wink at the group of girls who had been talking to Braden and Luke. “And hopefully some future ass, too.”
