Craving You (TBX #2) (10 page)

Lifting my head back up to Kelsey’s direction, I now have two angry sets of eyes staring daggers at me.
Shit.
Brealynn grabs her hand and drags her through the house, away from me.

I haven’t seen Kelsey in a while. Maybe I took it too far?
Nah
, my drunk brain informs me. Once Karina learned that I wasn’t interested, she finally left my side and found a new man to make out with. Rounding the corner back into the living room, my eyes are assaulted. Kelsey is sitting on the couch with some fuckin’ guy, making out.
FUCK ME
. This backfired tremendously.

Stalking away from the living room is my only option or else I’ll lose my shit. I’m too pretty to serve jail time. When I reach the top of the stairs, Tim is playing pool with my little sister, Jamie, and her friends. We decided if she’s going to get wasted, she might as well be where her big brothers are.

“I got winner.” I need something to help distract me and regroup. A hard shove to my shoulder jolts me forward.

The fuck?

“I hate you!” Kelsey yells, drawing attention to us. Grabbing her arm in a hurry, I drag her into the nearest room, which happens to be mine.

“No, you don’t.” My voice is stern. When will she stop lying to herself? She has unshed tears in her eyes, and it tugs at my heart. Fuck.

“I just wanted you to know that I hate your guts and I’m going to fuck him tonight. Do you hear me? I’m going to fuck you right out of my system!” Turning for the door, I grab her arm.

“The fuck you are!” I say, roaring like a lion. Over my dead body will she fuck him.

Kelsey freezes for a second under my anger. “Watch me!” Freeing from my grip, she runs out of my room and down the stairs.

“You better fuckin’ not!”
Yeah, that was my brilliant threat.

Sitting down on my bed, I gather my fuckin’ self together before I do actually end up in jail. This fuckin’ woman brings out emotions in me I never knew existed. If she fucks him ...
FUCK
… I won’t be able to handle it. A stabbing pain shoots through my chest at the thought. What the fuck is that feeling? Is it a heart attack?
Oh shit, I’m having a heart attack
! My anxiety over having a heart attack voids out the feeling, and it’s soon replaced with anger again.

She can’t be with him if she has nowhere to go to. Digging under my bed, I pull out my toolbox and head toward her room.

Kelsey

I just threw up my heart – by the lump in my throat.
I do want to vomit
. The nerve. Here I am, just minding my own business, and then,
BAM
, he kisses some chick. RIGHT. IN. FRONT. OF. ME. What’s this I feel?
Jealousy?
I gasp. Why do I even care? Caring is
so
-
exhausting
. When Parker smiles that cocky ass smile of his at me- with another girl’s teeth clenching his lip- I lose my shit. He has flipped my bitch switch sending sparks flying all over the living room. Brealynn’s fingers grip my bicep pulling me away from the crime scene that is my sex life before my brain can manage another coherent thought.

Smack!
“Snap out of it!” I look at her shocked and grabbing my cheek to help numb the sting. “I’m sorry, Kels, but you were losing it there for a second.”
She’s right.

“I can’t believe he kissed that girl - right in front of me. I feel … oh, damn …” Rushing to the sink, my empty stomach contracts as I dry heave. A small hand rubs up and down my back comforting me while the other holds the brown strands of hair out of my face. The music switches over to another song as people buzz around us, none paying any attention to the
‘drunk’
girl in the sink. Kelsey’s breakdown of the century is happening right in front of their eyes.
Bastards.

“You’re going to put yourself back together, Kels. Once you do, you are going to go find someone else. You need to give him a dose of his own medicine.”
She’s right,
again. I’ve kissed Derek, but it wasn’t spiteful and damn sure not in front of him. My stomach sank to the lowest depths when my eyes landed on his smirk with her lips
still
attached.

“Yeah, okay.” Lifting my head out of the sink with as much grace as possible, I right my posture before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

“He’s being such a prick.” The growl in Brealynn’s voice helps cement my spine while I collect myself and walk back out into the party with a new mission: Boy Toy.

My body feels warm, and if I l decided to look in the mirror, I’m sure the gray in my eyes would have a nice shiny glaze to them. However, I don’t want to judge myself for what I’m about to do, so that’s why I just drank my weight in keg beer.

The target in question: Brad Cunningham.

He’s cute, in a good boy kind of way. Blond hair and stunning green eyes, he isn’t lacking in the looks department. He’s the exact opposite of
him
-who should not be named. Batting my eyelashes and praying to the heavens I don’t look like a stroke patient, my body moves to travel the few feet to speak with Brad, who’s been eye fucking me for the past twenty minutes it has taken me to arrive at this numb state.

“Kelsey Whitten, what a beautiful sight you are.” Ever the ladies’ man, he is.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Sliding up next to his stocky build, a fake feeling but what I hope is a convincing smile takes over my face. Eyeing Brealynn from across the room, she gives me a knowing smile. Colt glances in our direction, his icy stare penetrating through me before he excuses himself. Walking away from their group, he heads into the kitchen. I don’t know what his deal is. His brother is the asshole, not me.

Brad talks on and on about … well, him. The next half hour, I learn all about Mr. Cunningham without having another drink, and my buzz is wearing off quick. His major is business. His daddy owns a nationwide gun store that he plans on saddling up with right after graduation. Brad has his arm slung around my shoulder. Parker walks past us not once looking in my direction. I smile, lean in, and laugh like my life depends on it right before my lips hurriedly meet his. Startled, Brad quickly recovers and an arm snakes around my lower back, pressing me to his body. Cracking one eye open as he assaults my mouth, I locate Parker heading up the stairs to the game room, unaffected. He can just walk right by me making out with someone else? It doesn’t fucking gut him like it did to me? Untangling myself, the effect of what I just did hits me hard. I feel dirty and used, even if I was the one using Brad. It just doesn’t feel right. This feeling—the dirt I want to wash off my body, grime that’s seeping into my blood, this label on my forehead that reads easy—is what I’ve tried my hardest to avoid. I use
them
and toss them aside before they can do the same to me.

Brad’s face sports a lazy grin before I take off up the stairs without a response. My anger flares to a level I didn’t even know existed. The last step comes within reach when Parker casually tells Tim he will play in the next pool game, as if I don’t matter, as if
we
don’t matter; I lose all the control I was clinging to. With all my strength, I charge him hands held out from my body and shove with all my might.

“I hate you!” Although my voice is loud, it isn’t believable; the pain evident in the crack. All eyes in the room land on us. He quickly grabs my arm pulling me into his bedroom.
How fucking convenient.

“No, you don’t.” His voice is commanding and all knowing. I try to hold back the tears that threaten to fall at any moment. My eyes burn and begin to blur.

“I just wanted you to know that I hate your guts, and I’m going to fuck Brad tonight. Do you hear me? I’m going to fuck you right out of my system!” An emotional scratch invades my throat with my shaky declaration. Turning on my heel, I leave before the tears fall.

“The fuck you are!” His voice strong with authority booms through the room and vibrates through me.

My body stills before I yell, “Watch me!” and begin back down the stairs. “You better fuckin’ not!”

His threat is void.

After another thirty minutes of flirting and faking interest in Brad, we make our way up to my room. I’ve refilled full of alcohol, so I’m hoping this goes smoothly. I feel every bit of the slore I look like walking up the stairs hand in hand with him. Eyes follow me and I dismiss it and allow Brad into my room.

Once we pass the threshold, I move to shut my door and miss.
Damn, am I that drunk?
Whirling around, I see that my door is completely missing. Stomping out of my room like my father just grounded me by removing my door, I have one target in mind. Sitting with a cocky smile on the side of the pool table is Parker perched on a barstool, pool stick in hand. I get right in his face, fuming.

“Give me my door back, you lunatic!” I ground out.

I can smell the mint and alcohol mixing on his breath when he leans in and says, “No.” The whisper of his words against my skin further pissing me off and turning me on at the same time.

“Fine, I’ll fuck him in the closet or … the bathroom.” I’m hoping my low tone was only heard by him. In a jolt, he’s left the barstool and stands just inside my room.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” His anger shocks me.

“He’s my guest! He doesn’t have to leave. Don’t leave.” I glare at Brad, trying to freeze him in place.

“Fine. He can stay and watch me fuck the stubbornness out of you!” My mouth falls open at his crassness. And Brad’s face drains of color before he exits my room. I just stand there dumbstruck at Parker’s outburst.

“I’m fuckin’ done. I’m done watching you suck face with that asshole. I’m done trying to avoid you and pretend nothing is going on between the two of us. I’m. Fuckin’. Done. Sweetness.” He crowds my space enveloping me in his arms. I try to ignore how good it feels, but it’s hard.
Really hard
.

Everyone saw our exchange and is still aware considering I no longer have a door. Looking up at his serious face, his breath tickles my earlobe. “Tell me what I want to hear and I promise to fuck you sweet, just how you like it.” My knees go weak at his admission. Being in his arms causes my heart to think up all kinds of nice things, things I know will never actually happen or even be true, but I can’t help it. When his strong arms surround me, all rational thought flies out the window. I begin to think of how nice he feels, how safe I feel with him, and one of the scariest things I feel is cherished. So when I reply back to him, I blame my stupid, careless heart. She should know better.