3:AM Kisses (24 page)

“He called me his girlfriend.” I shake my head, with tears pooling in my eyes because Bryson has something so frighteningly sad buried deep inside him, and he won’t let me in. “I know it’s silly, but it made me all kinds of happy.”

“It’s not silly.” Roxy runs her fingers through my hair. “It’s
beautiful
. And, it’s nice to know that some guys still believe in the sanctity of a committed relationship.”

That cheating boyfriend of hers clots up the air like some fornicating poltergeist.

I give a hard sniff. “Bryson is amazing.” It comes out a little guiltier than I reasoned, considering I’m gushing over my boyfriend in front of a girl who was just brutally dumped by hers.

“Bryson
is
amazing.” Laney touches her hand to my shoulder. “Just know that you’re helping him heal, and, when he’s ready, I’m sure he’ll tell you everything.”

When he’s ready. It almost sounds cryptic. What if he’s never ready? How long do I let such a big mystery linger between us?

Hopefully not long. In the meantime, I’d better double down on the ibuprofen. Something tells me this is the type of pain I’m going to come to appreciate.

The week drifts by with Bryson and I stealing kisses while Cole showers—while Cole beds down an entire sorority house in his bedroom (no joke). Bryson and I take leisurely bike rides up to the Witch’s Cauldron before class and hold each other while eating donuts and coffee, but we’ve yet to free my vagina of its inferno of pain by way of his curative friction. And, by the way, that doesn’t even sound sane because it probably isn’t even true. But, nevertheless, I’m up for another session of the lust and thrust, and Bryson Edwards is the only person on the planet I want thrusting anything in my direction.

I’m headed off to my music appreciation class, which isn’t as easy as I thought it’d be, for one, there isn’t a whole lot of appreciating going on as much as there is rabid memorization of classical snippets. I keep having to associate the music to different times in my life when it would actually suit the mood. Like, for instance, the time I was nine and I spotted my parents going at it in their bedroom. It was a trauma that left me bouncing all over the house in a panic because my brain didn’t know how the heck to organize that clusterfuck of information. So, naturally, when I hear “The Flight of the Bumblebee,” by Rimsky-Korsakov, it takes me back to that traumatic day.

A body slams into me on the main thoroughfare in the middle of campus, and I tumble back to find the bumble bitch herself—Alpha Chi’s own—Aubree Vincent.

“Well, if it isn’t little Baya Brighton.” She wrinkles her nose at me like I just let off a foul sent. “Rumor has it you still want in. Is this true?”

“It’s true.” I swallow hard because it’s sort of not, but maybe with me away from my brother, Bryson and I will be free to spend more time together—in my new bedroom.

“I talked to your brother this weekend.” A thin-lipped smile glides across her face. Aubree would be beautiful if she didn’t spackle a vat of foundation and adhere poor defenseless tarantulas to her eyelids for the hell of it.

“He mentioned it.” God, I hope she’s not planning on becoming his latest victim or, as it would more appropriately be—he would be hers. “So when’s this alternative rush taking place? Can my friend Laney join?”

“Nope, just you. Be at the bridge Sunday at midnight, and come alone. Admitting members after rush is completely against the rules. I’m doing this as a personal favor because I just so happen to like you. But, if you so much as whisper to anyone where our secret meet and greet is, I
will
find out, and you’ll be booted back to Prescott on your shiny white ass. Don’t blow this.” She breezes past me in her printed silk scarf, her long leather boots the color of honey.

“Wait!” I call after her. “Where’s the bridge?”

“Figure it out,” she shouts back.

Sunday. Why does Sunday sound familiar? Am I going somewhere, Sunday?

The picture of a ghost taped up on the window in Hallowed Grounds sends it all rushing back to me. Sunday—that’s right, it’s Halloween.

She wants me to meet her at midnight on Halloween?

Creepy.

I finally make it to class, but my mind keeps drifting back to Bryson and those electric kisses of his. I drop my pen three times, and the dark-haired boy in front of me is nice enough to return it each time.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were hitting on me.” He gives a little smile. He seems sweet. Roxy should go for someone like him. “My name’s Luke.”

“Nice to meet you. And, by the way, you
don’t
know better.” I give a little smile. “Sorry.”

He spins around, and my thoughts migrate back to Bryson and the bump and grind that played out for hours.

All I can think about is how beautiful it was last weekend. Bryson and I finally had a chance to be ourselves, and it only annunciates the fact that Cole has got to be dealt with. I’ll recruit a pair of brass knuckles if necessary. It’s becoming painfully obvious that Cole is the only one standing in our way of behaving like any other rational couple. And, once his mad cock blocking skills have been taken out, and he generously gives us the thumbs up, Bryson and I will be free to take our relationship public by peeing circles around one another in the quad. Of course, I’ll make mine in the shape of a heart.

I let out a heated breath just thinking about what a task it’s going to be to talk to my brother. I’ll let him know I appreciate his efforts, but that he could kindly fuck the hell off because I’m pretty much going to date whoever the heck I feel like. Okay, so I’ll be a little more gentle than that—a heck of a lot more gentle than that, but I need him to understand I’m more than just his little sister, I’m my own person. Also, I wouldn’t mind addressing his tally mark addiction. He’s beyond stupid for throwing everything away for a good time when there’s a perfectly good girl out there waiting for him. Cole deserves to be loved just as much as Bryson does.

And if Bryson found someone special, so can my brother.

I run my idea past Bryson that night at the Black Bear Saloon in between waiting tables.

“I don’t know.” His eyes enlarge the size of beer cans. “Look, let me talk to him first. Normally, I wouldn’t interfere, but I know Cole.” He closes his eyes remorsefully as if he wished he didn’t. “And, as much as he’s your brother, I feel like he’s my brother, too. This is going to gut him a little more than if I were just your average guy. He’s going to think I betrayed him.”

The music pulsates in and out around us. People from school have already started donning their Halloween costumes, albeit two nights early.

“Okay, but do it quick. I don’t think I can handle too much more.” I lean in and press my hand to his chest. “I miss you.” I glance down at his Levis to get the message across loud and clear.

Bryson drops his towel and picks it up before spinning around like he didn’t even hear me. A gentle tap lands over my shoulder, and I turn to find Cole and some beefed up linebacker next to him. That explains a lot.

“What’s up, sis?” Cole gives a light sock to my arm. “Have you met Luke Carter?”

He looks vaguely familiar. He’s got dark hair and incredible dimples. I can see why girls might drop to their knees in front of him, but, unfortunately for both Luke and Cole, I won’t be one of them. All of my knee-dropping skills are reserved for Bryson.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I offer. “You guys want a table?” I point over to the back where most of the people from Whitney Briggs hang out.

“No, thanks.” He slaps Luke over the shoulder then it comes back to me, Music Appreciation—Luke is the boy who’s good at picking up pens and, apparently, girls. “I thought maybe you and Luke could catch a movie or something. I feel bad that you haven’t seen much of Hollow Brook. You in?”

Crap. Leave it to Cole to hand select a boyfriend for me. I’m sure he paid him not to touch the merchandise. Just the thought makes my blood boil.

“I’m working.” I nail Cole with a look that says we’ll talk later. “Or, trust me, I’d want to.” I glare into my brother. “Because I am thoroughly ready to spread my wings.” His face bleaches out. Okay, so maybe I could have chosen another analogy, but still, the premise is the same.

Bryson pops up and knuckle bumps Luke and Cole.

“What’s going on?” He sharpens his gaze at my brother, and it feels like the temperature in the room just went up ten degrees.

“Baya and Luke were just about to hang out. You mind giving her the night off?”

Bryson’s mouth opens as if he’s about to say something, but he aborts the effort.

“Oh”—I widen my eyes at Bryson as if begging him to hoist me out of this verbal quicksand—“I’m not wearing anything decent.” I look down at the shorts I swiped from Jeanie, my crop top, coupled with a pair of patent leather FMs. Surely my conservative brother wouldn’t want me roaming the mean streets of Hollow Brook in what amounts to brothel-ware.

“I thought that might be the case, so I brought these.” Cole holds up a bag, and I snatch it from him only to find my pink Whitney Briggs sweat suit staring back at me. Figures. Cole is still very much interested in me maintaining my V-card for another twenty years. Little does he know I turned it in last weekend to his beefcake BFF.

“Look”—I sigh into poor Luke who doesn’t even realize his balls are on the line if he tries something with me—“I’m kind of not feeling that great. I really just want to finish my shift. I’m shy a few books for class, and I need the cash.”

“
Baya
.” Cole pulls me to the side. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you needed money? You know that’s what I’m here for. I want to help you in anyway I can.” His eyes melt over mine with a layer of heartbreak underneath.

I cut a quick glance back at Luke. “I see what kind of help you’re offering, and, by the way,
no
thank you. Do you honestly think I’m that desperate to have my brother hook me up? Don’t you think I have what it takes to find someone on my own?”

Cole lets out a heated breath. His fingers fly through his hair in frustration.

“No, Baya”—he shakes his head good and pissed—“I’m afraid you
do
have what it takes to get a guy,
lots
of guys. I also know you lied through your teeth about where you went last weekend.” His eyes remain over mine, and my stomach explodes in a ball of acid. Holy shit. Cole knows.

The air clots up in the room. The speakers blare some yodeling country song that mimics all of the disasters in my life, and I just want to crawl under a table and stay there while trying to avoid both Cole and old gum.

“I don’t have to tell you everything.” I practically spit the words in his face. “You’re not Dad. You never were. You pretended you were, but you never came close.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His dark brows knit together. “I care about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt by whoring around with a bunch of guys.”

“Isn’t
that
the pot calling the kettle black. I think you’ve perfected the fine art of ‘whoring around,’ or haven’t you noticed the writing on the wall? I believe you’re in the lead by almost fifty points. I hope to God your dick doesn’t fall off, but, if it did, I wouldn’t call it a loss. If you keep throwing yourself away like that, then you don’t deserve to have one.”

I hurry to the restroom, lock myself in a stall and just lose it.

Less than three minutes later Laney comes in, and I finally open the door.

“Sometimes big brothers suck.” She pulls me into a strong embrace.

I don’t think Cole will ever accept me being with anyone—let alone Bryson.

Cole’s not at all like Dad.

He’s a hypocrite of the highest order.

Bryson

Fucking Cole.

He’s such an ass for treating Baya like she’s still fifteen. He took off soon after their blowout, and, lucky for Luke, he took off not long after, too. I have nothing against the guy, but, if he thinks he’s hitting on Baya, he’s got another thing coming, namely my fist.