Friends & Forever (3 page)

Nicholas threw up his hands. "I'm
out."

Carmine chuckled, watching as Amy took the
dozen roses, the crown and sash being donned on her. "Guess that's a bust,
huh?"

"That's what you get," Dom said.
"You're supposed to be with a girl because you want her—because you
like
her—not because you want to win some bet. Screwing a girl for twenty
bucks? That makes you a prostitute, bro."

"A whore," Tess sneered.

Dom laughed. "A cheap one, at
that."

Carmine ignored the insult as he turned
his attention back to the football field. He'd certainly been called worse. He
wasn't even offended. A whore? Hell, he didn't doubt it.

The second half of the game was a haze as
he finished off his liquor. He and Nicholas jetted out early in the fourth
quarter as Durante fell further and further behind the other team. The game was
a definite loss, but the night?

The night was only just starting.

* * *

Party after party, house after house… the two made their way
around town before ultimately descending upon Aurora Lake once again.

Carmine, at some point, had lost his shirt
as he strolled along the stretch of sandy beach, clutching a beer, untied Nike's
once again loose on his feet. Same shit, every day. He was who he was, and he
had no plans to change for anybody.

His eyes scanned the shoreline under the
cloak of darkness, recognizing some friends, ogling some strangers. A sense of
peace settled over Carmine as he infiltrated the crowd, feeling contentment in
the chaos. This was when he was in his element, when he felt on top of the
world. He could forget about the outside world—forget about his family,
about his life, about everything he lost and everything he once loved—and
just exist for a while, the nucleus of society,
the
center of the fucking universe. It was his kingdom, and they were his people,
and nothing felt better to him than taking his place on his throne.

Because
these people?
These girls? They practically worshiped
him.

He strolled toward the water, nearing Nicholas
as he slung his arm over the shoulder of a small brunette, a fellow sophomore.
Carmine couldn't remember her name.

Fuck, his memory was shot.

"So, uh, what's brown and
sticky?" Nicholas asked the girl. Her face contorted in confusion as she
thought it over.

Carmine strode right past them, so close
he elbowed his friend. "A stick."

"Foul, DeMarco," Nicholas
grumbled, trying to kick Carmine with his bum foot, but he dodged out of the
way.

"A stick?" the girl asked, her
brow furrowing.

"Yeah," Nicholas said,
"it's brown and, you know… stick-y."

She forced out a laugh. "I get it!
That's funny!"

Rolling his eyes, Carmine guzzled the rest
of his beer as he strode further down the shoreline, toward the dock not far
from the Barlow residence—the one Nicholas had earlier crashed into.
Somehow the jet skis had been removed from the water, back in their place at
one of the neighbor's houses.

Carmine crushed the beer can in his hand
and tossed it toward the metal trashcan. The crumpled aluminum ball hit the
side of it and ricocheted off, but he looked away, not caring.

A throat dramatically cleared behind him,
so close the hair at his nape stood on end. He turned back around, coming
face-to-face with Amy. She snatched up the beer can and clutched it tightly in
her fist, shaking it at him. "That's littering."

"So?"

"So I
live
here," she
said. "You're practically littering in my yard."

"So?" he said again. "I
litter in your
actual
yard."

She shook her head. "You're
ridiculous."

"And you're kinda cute for being such
a raging bitch."

Her gaze darted straight to his. He
expected to see her feathers ruffled, to see her furious, but she appeared a
little shell-shocked instead. "What did you say?"

He raised his eyebrows, waving her off.
While he liked to press her buttons a bit, he wasn't really trying to offend
Nicholas's sister. "Don't worry about it. I didn't mean it."

She recoiled, like his words hurt.
"Didn't mean it?"

"Yeah.
Bitch
… it's just a
word. I didn't mean it. Although, well, you know…" She
was
sort of
a bitch, as far as he was concerned. "Yeah."

"Oh, no, I meant…" Her cheeks
flushed. "Never mind. It's nothing."

"Okay."

He turned to walk away again when she
groaned loudly, throwing the beer
can
straight at the
metal bin, missing just as badly as he had. Instead of picking it up, though,
she kicked it and stomped off.

"That's littering!" he yelled
after her, smirking.

The group eventually migrated to the
Barlow residence, music blaring from the house as speakers were shoved up
against the open windows. Joshua Barlow worked almost as much as Vincent
DeMarco, which was practically all-the-fucking-time. Carmine sat down on the
front porch, a haze of smoke clouding around him as the steady flow of alcohol
simmered in his bloodstream. Sky-high, drunk off his ass, he could hardly see,
let alone
think
. Nothing mattered, nothing was more important, than that
moment, in that place. It was what he lived for—the nothingness, the
euphoria of teenage recklessness, as it washed away all of his painful
memories.

It washed away everything.

It was something he had in common with
Nicholas, the thing that fortified their friendship. Most people lived for the
moments they'd remember forever, but him and Nicholas? They lived for the
moments they could finally fucking
forget
.

The screen door slammed behind Carmine as
he took a deep drag from a blunt, the smoke burning his lungs as it infiltrated
his system. Familiar laughter met his ears—laughter he rarely heard,
because Tess was always harping and never laughing at anything. He looked behind
him and blanched, rapidly blinking, when he saw his brother wrap his arms
around her and pull her to him. Tess giggled—she fucking
giggled
,
like a bitty schoolgirl in a goddamn plaid skirt—as Dom kissed the corner
of her mouth, his lips roaming down her jawline to her neck.

They paid Carmine no mind as they bounded
down the steps, away from the house, kissing and touching. He gaped at them,
stunned. "What the fuck?"

"Back to that?" Nicholas asked,
somehow suddenly appearing at Carmine's side. He'd been so in a daze he hadn't
heard his friend's approach. "That's all you said this morning."

Nicholas grabbed the blunt from Carmine
and took a hit, closing his eyes as he
inhale
deeply,
savoring it.

"Do you see that shit?" Carmine
asked, waving toward the silver Audi parked in the grass nearby.
Dom's car.
Dom, who had Tess on the hood of it, where he
stood between her legs and greedily kissed her lips. "Just… what the
fuck?"

"Ah, yeah." Nicholas nodded, not
appearing surprised. "He's definitely been hitting that."

"What?" Carmine asked, eyes wide
with surprise. "What the fuck?"

"Come on, you
had
to have
known," Nicholas said. "It was obvious, the way they were always
being all touchy-feely, lovey-dovey."

"No, I just…
no
."

No.

Not happening.

His brother couldn't be doing that.

No fucking way.

Nicholas started to say something else
when someone called his name. "Shit, I'll be back. That's Jane. You
remember Jane, from Biology? I got a Dick she wants to meet. Get it, Dick and
Jane?"

Nicholas laughed, shoving him jokingly, as
he hobbled down the steps and wandered over toward where the young brunette
from earlier stood. Ah, that was her name.
Jane
.

Shaking his head with disbelief, Carmine
stood up, swaying a bit on shaky legs. He felt like he had slipped into some
other dimension. He didn't like it over here. He preferred
his
world, for fuck's sake.

He headed inside, going straight for the
kitchen, snatching one of the cheap beers from the refrigerator. He popped the
top and took a swig as he started toward the bathroom. He made it halfway there
when a door opened and rambunctious laughter streamed out from a room. Someone
stepped out into the hallway right in front of him, away from the group
gathered in a bedroom. His footsteps faltered when Amy hesitated right in front
of him. Her gaze scanned him, eyes narrowed. "Pathetic."

"You're so fucking childish."

"Me? Childish?" she scoffed.
"
You're
the little boy."

"There's nothing little about me,
Amy.
Nothing
."

"You're right," she said.
"Your ego certainly isn't little."

"You know, you remind me a little of
Tess," he said. "Always flinging around your petty insults, like you
think they actually might hurt me."

"Tess, huh?" She crossed her
arms over her chest. "Another one of your conquests,
Don Juan
?"

He narrowed his eyes at her bitter tone.
"What did I ever do to you?"

"Nothing," she said.
"Nothing at all."

He stared at her for a moment before
stepping right toward her, closing the distance between them. "Is that
what the problem is? Huh?"

"You're a jerk."

"I am," he replied. He was. He
knew it. "Is that why you hate me so much?"

"I never said I
hate
you."

"You don't have to say it."

She narrowed her eyes at him, standing her
ground. "Fine. You wanna know?"

"Yes."

"Why is it you look at every girl
around here but me?" she asked. "I know your reputation, but I don't
know
it. Never once have you made a move on me. Never once have you even looked the
slighted bit interested. Why is that? What's wrong with
me
?"

He stared at her. Not exactly the reaction
he'd expected. "Ah, bruise your ego, did I?"

She glared at him, huffing as she started
to storm away, but he stepped in front of her to stop her. Christ, he didn't
want to hurt her feelings. Despite everything, he liked Amy… about as much as
he could like a girl, anyway. She gave him hell, but she looked out for
Nicholas, and by extension,
him
.

"There's nothing
wrong
with
you. You're crazy if you think I haven't imagined doing things to you that
would drive you fucking wild."

"Then why haven't you?"

He was taken aback by her bluntness.
"Because you're Amy Barlow."

"And you're Carmine DeMarco,"
she said, stepping right to him, so close her breasts pressed up against his
chest. "So what?"

He wanted to put up an argument… he had
one, he was sure of it. He knew it, deep down inside. He knew there was a good
goddamn reason he didn't pursue her, a reason he kept his distance, a reason
their barely-tolerate-each-other-publicly relationship worked beautifully. But
at that moment, as she stood toe-to-toe with him, the challenge in her bloodshot
eyes—drunk, too—he completely forgot what it was. Here he was,
standing there with the homecoming queen as she practically
dared
him to fuck her.

Nail the homecoming queen… that had been
his goal tonight, right?
Fuck it
.

He didn't think anymore. He didn't even
try to put up a fight. His hands were all over her, his lips on her neck, his
teeth nipping her skin, her freshly manicured fingernails digging into his back
as she clung to him.

Zero-to-sixty
in the blink of an eye.

He dragged her straight past her bedroom,
where her friends gathered, into the closest vacant space: Nicholas's room.
Carmine kicked the door, slamming it closed with his foot, and the two of them
stumbled through the mess toward the unmade bed. Amy gasped, steering him a
different direction instead. "Ugh, not on the bed."

"Why not?"

"Really? That's my little brother's
bed.
Gross
."

Her
brother's bed.
Those words washed through Carmine,
barely sinking in. Her brother.
His best friend.
This
was wrong, so fucking wrong…
you don't fuck with your best friend's sister
.
He reminded himself that, silently chastising himself, internally protesting
the entire time, but he was too far-gone, the inebriation severing body and
mind.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Yep, that's what he wanted.

To fuck.

Carmine fumbled with his clothes, pulling
a condom from his wallet and rolling it on in the darkness as Amy tugged him
toward the grubby couch where Carmine camped out whenever he stayed over. Amy
started stripping as she lay back on the couch, and Carmine hovered over her,
easily sliding between her slim thighs.