Unsocial (43 page)

Dylan and I are finally alone, nothing different than usual
because we always have a visit before I leave, but, this time, is different
because now there’s a shared intimacy that can’t be ignored by either of us, no
matter how damn hard we try.  But I will say so that I don’t make him
uncomfortable. For him, I will keep it together.

At least,
I hope I will.

Dylan

The kids are gone. Now it’s just the two of us. It was hard enough
not to grab her when she came through the front door. Now that we’re alone and
I can smell her, even from 10 feet away, every part of me wants to drag her to
my room, lock her in there, and never let her go.
Christ, what am I
thinking, never let her go?
The hardest thing I’ve ever done is walk away,
leaving her in my bed.

Knowing that she was coming today had me on edge, but I refused to
make her uncomfortable in this house and around the kids. But it’s been hard
for me, especially my aching cock, to have her sitting in the same space as me
and listening to her speak. All my synapses firing just from smelling her damn
scent, the same scent I still can’t bring myself to wash off my sheets. I’m a
certifiable fucking pervert.

It’s hard not replaying that night on a loop in my mind. Maybe
because there hasn’t been much time to forget the way she tastes, the way she
felt, the sounds she made and what she looked like when she came, all five damn
times. Each one was more beautiful than the last, and I would have gladly spent
hours more making her come again and again. I’m beginning to think I may have
fucked up bringing her to my bed because now I lay there unable to clear my
mind enough to sleep without remembering what it was like falling asleep with
her and waking up with her.
I’m fucked
.

The thing that’s bothering me the most is that since she’s walked in,
she’s acting totally unaffected.  I know we agreed that it’s going to be
strictly professional between us, but goddamn, couldn’t she act the least bit….
something?
Shouldn’t she feel sad or like that night meant something to her to her?  She’s
carrying on like not a goddamn thing happened and it’s just business as usual.
I’m sitting over here as far as I can get from her and about to crawl out of my
skin. Fine, if she can be this cool then by God so can I.  I have years of
pretending I don’t give a shit, especially when it comes to needy chicks.
You
stupid fuck, you’re the only one here who’s feeling needy.

"How have you been?" I ask.

I want her to tell me to drag her to the garage and fuck her
crazy.  All I get is, “I'm good, work has been crazy, but what else is new?”

I clear my throat, "And you’re okay after the other
night?"

She instinctively looks around, like she's afraid the kids will
hear. "Yes, of course.  I’m more than fine. It was wonderful, Dylan.”

Shouldn’t that make me feel good?  She’s fine, not going to go all
chick crazy and beg me for more, tell me she loves me, try to get my ring on
her finger? Of course not, because it was
wonderful,
and she’s
fine.
What the fuck ever. "What about Alex, was she there when you got home?"

She smiles, "She had no idea that I was even gone. You could
say she had a nice distraction, and I’m pretty sure you know what that was.”

Does she mean Jax? "Was Jackson there?”

She nods, "Yeah, he didn't tell you?"

I shake my head, "No, but he’s been in Oklahoma since after
New Year’s.  Some pissed off client started blowing up his phone and wanted one
of the owners. Naturally since I had the kids, he decided to go. He should be
home tomorrow, I think.”

She laughs, "Well then, I must be spreading gossip.”

I shrug because I don’t ask unless he volunteers. “He may say
something about it.”

"Don’t you guys talk about the girls you sleep with?"

I laugh. “No, we don’t go into details about who we hook up with.
Well unless something sticks out which is usually the chicks who might be hard
to shake off.  Kind of like a warning to not go there.” She looks concerned, so
I add, “I would never go into detail about us, Brooke. What you and I did is
not up for any discussion, and he wouldn’t ask.”

I figured Jax would take Alex to his place; I had no clue he would
take her to Brooke’s. It doesn’t seem that he said anything to her, or she
wouldn’t be acting okay with it. “He promised me he wouldn’t hurt her.”

"He won't. Jax is a straight shooter like me.  We don’t make
any promises.”

She nods her head and looks a little,
sad
? "I believe
you. No relationships.”

“That’s true. Neither one of us have had a girlfriend in the years
we’ve known each other. He did have a few go-to girls in Oklahoma when he was
too lazy or didn't feel like going to a bar. He doesn’t exactly follow any
rules that I know of, just an understanding that there’ll be no commitments.
He’s not a heartless asshole, Brooke. I'm sure they talked about it."

She nods, "You’re probably right, and they’re both adults.
Not to mention I guess it's none of my business.” She sits up straighter and smiles
at me. “Anyway, it seems like everything is okay here.”
Okay, subject change,
now it’s back to business.

"Yep, things are great so far. Doesn’t mean we won’t need you
in the future, though.”

That makes her smile, "I should hope not. I love doing what I
can for you guys.”

I hate already how sterile this conversation is going. "I
told the kids not to ask you to stay for dinner.” She jerks her head back as if
I slapped her, and I immediately regret the sharp tone of my voice, so I soften
it. “I told them because you’re probably tired from working. Just didn’t want
you feeling awkward.”

"That's thoughtful of you, but I don’t see how having dinner
would be awkward, Dylan.  I’ve had dinner with you guys plenty of times. I
don't want what we did to have any effect on my responsibility to you and the
kids or the relationship I’ve built with them." Her tone is distant and
chilly, nothing like the usual sweetness I associate with her when she speaks.

“Glad to hear that. I was worried you might feel like pushing them
away again, but you seem fine with everything. So if you feel like dinner, feel
free to join us.  I know they would enjoy having you.” Obviously, our night
together worked great for getting past any sexual attraction to she had.
So
why the fuck didn’t it work for me?

I stand up, "Alright, you’re always welcome here,
Brooke."

She stands too and smiles widely, "So what are you making
me?"

"Yeah, I think you mean what are
we
making?"

She laughs, “Of course. So what’s on the menu?"

"Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn."

"Yum, I’m starving."

In the kitchen, we gather everything we need.  Brooke, of course,
looks right at home in here, but why shouldn’t she? She sets her phone on
Bluetooth for music, because Brooke can’t cook without music.
Why do I sound
so bitter?
Then comes the innocuous small talk about everything but us,
which there is no
us.
Shit, I wish she would just cook in silence. Get
this shit over. “Dylan, did you hear me?”

I look over at her questioningly.  I have no clue what this
conversation is even about. I heave a sigh, “No, sorry. I spaced out a moment.”

“I was just asking if Gabby’s psychologist has talked to you about
how well she’s recovering. I think it’s something the judge will be looking at
when he reads updates.”
Blah, blah, blah, kids, judges, cases. What about just
me and her
and amazing fucking sex
. Shake it off man.

She picks up the flour container and continues, “Well, if you want
we could get him to write a report just for the judge, and I thin…..”

That’s it; she has to go home, now. I just can’t take this
anymore.

 
I grab the container out
of her hands, placing it carefully on the island. Facing her I take a deep
breath, “You have to go, Brooke
.
This has to be
professional
.
Cooking and eating together is
not
professional, and so I need you to
just. Go.” I turn her to toward the front door and give her a slight push, but
she whirls on me.

“Why? What’s going on that all of a sudden I need to leave?” She
demands.

Does she really not give a shit about…?
  No
, fuck this shit.
“It’s just not right for my social
worker to be here cooking and having dinner with my family. We agreed that
after Thursday night we are back to who we’re supposed to be, and you aren’t
supposed to be here. Time to respect those boundaries you were always going on
about.”

“So, what’s so different this time than any other time?” She just
won’t give up.

“Before we hadn’t fucked, now we have.”

“That doesn’t even make sense….”

I raise my voice to get my point across this time, “Just go,
Brooke. Please.”

She stares at me; I’m sure she’s confused, maybe hurt judging by
the look on her face, then turns.  She doesn’t even put on her coat, just grabs
it and closes the door.  I look at all the preparations for dinner left on the
counter and sweep them in the sink. “Luke, Cassie,” I yell. They come running
up the stairs as I head for the garage door.

“What?” Luke asks.

“You two get this shit cleaned up and order pizza.  I have to go.”

Cassie looks around worriedly at the mess I created in a fit,
“Dylan, what happened and where did Brooke go?”

“Not now.  You two just clean this and feed you guys.” In the
attached garage I pass Luke’s SUV and head for my Camaro, but once I see it, I
keep going to the unattached garage.  No way can I drive that car right now
remembering Brooke driving it the other night. Driving like she’s chasing the
checkered flag, like the flag tattooed in the perfect place on her perfect
fucking body. When I reach the other garage, the first car I see is that damn
Roadrunner. I try averting my eyes, but of course, they go automatically to the
spot I had her pushed against while we fucked us both stupid,
the first
time.
My fist slams down on the hood before I can stop the stupid move because
fuck that hurt like a mother.
At least, my truck is safe.

Fifteen minutes later I’m downing my third shot at the first dive
bar I see. It’s not full, but there’s certainly plenty of bar bitches milling
around, and it goes without saying I’m the best fucking thing on the menu
tonight. All the men are the ones that would rather be any place other than
home with the missus.

I pick up the shot that the bartender just slides across and slam
it back, anything to numb my fucking mind. I’m trying to forget so many things
right now that there’s probably not enough liquor in this place to wipe it
clean. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice one, not so bad looking, chick
making her way toward me, probably thinking she’s the lucky one for the night.
Hell,
maybe she might be.

She slides up next to me and faces me, “Buy me one? It’s a shame
to drink alone, you know?” Her voice is sultry. She’s obviously very willing.
Her tits are big. The face is okay. Like that red lipstick.
Mmm, might leave
a nice ring around my cock.
She’s exactly my type for a ‘happy hour.’

I slide my hand up her bare thigh, “So, you alone?”

”All by my lonesome, just like you.” She smiles at me, but it
looks all wrong. Fake, cold.

I’m drunk.
I tap the bar for
another round, and, this time, order four.  “Hope you don’t mind Jack,” I warn
her.

“Sounds good to me.” We down our first shot and reach for the
other.  The burn of the liquor is long gone, and it slides down so damn smooth,
just like my hand up the short length of her skirt.
This is going to be so
damn easy.

She leans in close giving me a good eye full of her deep cleavage,
and I think how hot it would be to slide my cock between them, right before I
release cum all over her fake tits. My brain is all in, now if I could just get
my dick on board we could move this party to a bathroom, definitely not outside
because I think there was snow. “There a bathroom with a sturdy counter in this
place,” I slur.

She slips her hand towards toward my groin, “What’s your name,
handsome?”

“That shit don’t matter.  Now about those bathroom counters?” I
signal for four more shots and get a dirty glare in return. That shit pisses me
off, so I give my glass a couple of sharp taps.  “Four more down here for my
new friend.” He turns away impatiently to grab the bottle and four clean
glasses. I don’t need his shit right now. I turn back to big tits. Our shots
are set down in front of us, and just as quickly I grab one, she gives my still
flaccid cock a hard squeeze, and still there’s nothing.

I’m wondering what the hell it’ll take to get it interested in the
party that’s under her barely-there dress. I grab another shot, and I slam it
and nearly fall off my stool. Her laugh grates on my nerves, but I ignore it.
I’m not interested in her laugh, more like what she can do to make me forget
about my goddamn social worker.
Fuck, she’s not invited to this playground.

The room was already spinning, now its full-on whirling and
picking up speed. I lean in to face plant against the generous chest of this
chick and fall forward so hard I nearly knock us both to the ground. “Okay,
buddy, that’s it.  You’re cut off.”
Say what?
I look up at the scowling
bartender.