Not Just Another Romance Novel Page 24

  “I’ll be back in ten.” He disappeared, and I stared thoughtfully at the doorway. How the hell was I going to work up the nerve for this?

  My mom chattered on about some new client of Heath’s who loved the golf course, and I half tuned her out while I tried to push out the thoughts that kept creeping their way back in.

  Easton reappeared ten minutes later, true to his word. His hair was flat and damp from the shower, and he wore a t-shirt and basketball shorts. He plopped in the chair next to me at the table.

  “How’s everything?” he asked me once my mom had stopped talking long enough for him to get a word in.

  I shrugged. “You know. The usual. Busy with school.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah. How are classes?”

  “Fine. I’ve got a six hour Stats class that’s killing me.” And a former Stats tutor who just broke my heart by telling me he loved me.

  “Shit. Six hours of Stats? No thanks.”

  My mom shot Easton a look at his curse word, and Easton rolled his eyes. I giggled.

  “Want to hit Grayson’s tonight with me and a few of my friends?”

  I nodded. A bar seemed like a good place to hit on my stepbrother. A few shots of something strong would certainly help.

  I couldn’t believe I was really, actually thinking of doing this.

  But it was for science. It had to be done.

  After an enjoyable dinner catching up with my family, I headed up to my bedroom to get ready to go out with Easton. I picked up my phone.

  I had three new messages.

  My heart skipped a beat as my eyes hurried to see who they were from.

  Dax.

  Shannon.

  Austin.

  Nothing from Scott. And when I realized that, my heart slowed back to its normal beat in disappointment.

  Dax’s text told me he hoped I was having fun with my family. Shannon’s and Austin’s both asked me what happened with Scott.

  I wondered how they already knew. Maybe they’d seen Scott.

  I wished I could see Scott. I wished I could hug him and tell him nothing had to change.

  My heart was breaking, and I knew it was because I’d lost him. But he hadn’t replied to my text. I wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or hurt or something else. I wanted to leave him alone to start healing. I wanted him to try to forget about me.

  Or maybe I was just telling myself that so I wouldn’t feel guilty that I wanted hug him and tell him everything would change, but it could change for the better. What if we could try? What if we could be together?

  And then guilt hit me every time those thoughts slipped into my mind because of Dax.

  I thought about just telling him what Scott had said to me, but I wasn’t ready for the inevitable questions that he would ask. Especially ones that inquired whether I felt the same way.

  I had no idea how I felt, and as much as I’d hoped being in Vegas would be a reprieve, I actually sort of hated being away from home. Funny how I was in the home I’d grown up in, yet San Diego felt like home now.

  I let the texts go for the moment, focused on my goal for the night. I had to put everything out of my mind for my research. I could only hope that concentrating on something else would help me let go of the confusion in my heart.

  Easton drove. It was nice to know I could get as drunk as I wanted to, and after the past twelve hours, I felt the need to get obliterated.

  As soon as we were seated with Easton’s friends, I ordered my first shot—a Fireball—and my first beer along with it.

  “Way to go,” one particularly cute friend of my stepbrother’s said to me, holding his hand up for a high-five. I slapped his hand and thought about Scott.

  “Who are all of your friends?” I asked Easton.

  I looked around the circular booth. Easton sat beside me. He pointed out each of his friends. On his right sat Flynn. Next to him sat Kate, and then Eric and Valerie. On my left sat Dallin and Jenny.

  It was far too many names for me to remember, but I remembered Dallin just because he sat next to me. Everyone at the table had model good looks, and then there was me.

  I tried to feel like a part of the group.

  After the Fireball warmed my chest, I slammed my beer. I felt pretty good and we’d only been at the bar about ten minutes. I leaned in toward Easton, ready to make my move, when I felt a hand on my thigh.

  “So Easton tells me you’re studying Psychology?” Dallin said.

  I turned toward him, mentally calling him a Cock-Block.

  “Yep. I plan to graduate in May with my master’s.”

  “Awesome. I’m thinking about staying in school for my MBA after I graduate.”

  “How long until you graduate?” I asked, trying to feign an interest even though I had a job to do. I didn’t want to be rude to Easton’s friends, and Dallin was cute with his broad shoulders and floppy blond hair.

  “Year and a half.”

  Then our conversation got a little awkward. Dallin had run out of items he knew about me, and I didn’t have much to say to him since I didn’t really care. I ordered another shot and another beer, knowing I needed the liquid courage for the task ahead of me.

  Easton sat between me and Flynn, a boy with warm eyes. He was more of a hipster than the rest of the group. The boys in Easton’s circle were all muscles and brawn, while Flynn reminded me a little bit of Scott. He just looked more academic with his dark framed glasses. The similarities ended there, though. He had brown eyes, dark hair, and a well-kept beard. Scott didn’t have any of those things.

  I forced thoughts of Scott from my brain as I threw back my second Fireball. Dallin was impressed, and I was tipsy.

  I leaned in toward Easton again, who was deep in conversation with Flynn. I looped my arm through his and laced my fingers together around his bicep.

  “What are you doing?” he finally asked, turning in my direction with irritation.

  He wasn’t catching my drift. Maybe I should’ve leaned my head on his shoulder, but I wasn’t liquored up enough for that bold of a move. Plus I didn’t want to embarrass myself—or him—in front of his friends.

  I supposed a few more drinks would help me make my plan a little more obvious and drop the need to protect both of us from embarrassment.

  “Nothing,” I said coyly.

  He rolled his eyes and turned back to his conversation with Flynn.

  Dallin started talking to me again, not at all catching my drift that I wasn’t interested. My head was fuzzy, but I let go of Easton’s arm so I could tip back my beer.

  “You like SDSU?” Dallin asked.

  I nodded. “Lots of good looking men.” Oh God. My voice came out all slurry.

  Dallin’s smile widened. He took my comment to mean I was interested in all of the good looking men, and apparently he placed himself in that category.

  I hated big round booths, especially when I’d been drinking. The sudden urge to use the restroom hit me. Immediately. Like emergency level.

  I scooted toward Dallin because there were fewer people on his side. “Mind if I get out?” I asked.

  He nodded and turned toward the girl next to him. They moved out to accommodate me. The fake leather of the booth squeaked under me as I scooted out, but luckily the music was loud enough to cover the embarrassing sound.

  Easton shot me a look when I got to the end of the booth, as if to ask where I was going. “Restroom,” I mouthed to him, and he nodded.

  It was nice someone was looking out for my well-being. I appreciated it.

  What was not so nice was the long line to use the restroom. I hopped back and forth on my feet, trying to focus on anything other than the insane need to relieve myself.

  There were six girls in front of me and only two stalls. I shouldn’t have waited so long.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse for a distraction. I found a new text from Dax. Going on stage in ten. Feels weird without you here.

  It was sent about an hour earlier, which meant h
e was in the middle of his set.

  I suddenly missed him with an ache. It was odd how severely it hit me in that moment. I was also pretty drunk, which may have explained it. I just wasn’t lucid enough to realize it.

  I texted back, focusing on my phone with one eye and backspacing about fifty times until I finally spelled all of my words correctly. Wish I was there watching you. I miss you.

  I knew I wouldn’t get a reply until after the show, but at least the text would be waiting for him when he saw his phone.

  I pulled up my last text to Scott. It showed that it had been delivered, which meant he had seen it. It didn’t necessarily mean he had read it, but I had to assume he had. And he hadn’t written me back.

  It hurt knowing I’d poured myself into a text he hadn’t bothered to respond to. But the unknown hurt more. I didn’t know where we stood. I didn’t know how things would change now. I didn’t know when I’d see him again. I didn’t know how he felt now that he’d confessed his secret to me.

  And I didn’t know how I felt about him.

  As much as missing Dax had hit me over the head only seconds earlier, I felt an equal ache for Scott. I missed him, but I’d been missing him much longer than I’d been missing Dax. I’d missed Scott since he’d started pulling away, which I supposed was right about when I started getting close to Dax.

  I started typing out a new message to Scott, but I didn’t even know what to say. I typed “I think I might have feelings for you,” but I didn’t hit send. I was a little drunk, but not so drunk I thought sending that text would be a good idea. If Scott and I were going to have a talk about feelings, it was going to be face to face.

  Besides, I was with Dax.

  I really had to figure out what I was going to do. They each had attributes which I loved, but I knew I couldn’t have both. I didn’t want to lead anybody on, but at the same time, I was selfish. I wasn’t willing to let go of either of them.

  It was finally my turn to use the restroom, which pulled me from my thoughts for at least a short time. I washed my hands and stared at myself in the mirror, wiping my face with a paper towel and feeling just the tiniest bit more sober. When I exited the restroom, Dallin was waiting in the hallway for me.

  He grabbed my hand and led me to the dance floor. This was not at all the boy I wanted to be dancing with. Not that I really wanted to dance with Easton, either, but at least Easton had a bigger purpose. Dallin not only had no chance, but he would only confuse things further.

  I tried to politely decline, but he just grabbed me around the waist and twirled me around. I looked back to our table for help, but Easton was paying no attention to the dance floor. He was looking past Flynn to one of the girls at the table—I couldn’t remember any of their names—clearly putting his flirting skills to the test.

  I allowed Dallin to pull me around the dance floor for exactly one song. “I’m just going to head back to get my drink,” I told him.

  He nodded and followed me back to the table. He picked up my beer and handed it to me, and then he pulled my hand back to the dance floor.

  I shot Easton a pleading look, one he actually caught this time.

  I watched him scoot out of the booth with one of the girls. They headed toward the dance floor, and then he was next to Dallin and me. I felt a huge measure of relief, and I guzzled down the rest of my beer.

  “Slow it down, Piper,” my stepbrother warned as he shook his head.

  I grinned widely, trying to figure out some way to switch partners so I could dance with him instead. And then the music did it for me.

  The full beer hit my system just as “Pump Up the Jam” by Technotronic started playing. I looked over at Easton with wide eyes. His eyes were lit with laughter when they met mine.

  “Pump Up the Jam” was a song from our shared childhood. The song was older than me, but Heath played it every morning when he drove us to school the first year he and my mom were married. He claimed it would pep us up for our day. Even when I was in a bad mood or crabby because it was too early, the song always managed to pump me up for my day.

  And so when it started playing, it was like a sign. I ditched Dallin, Easton ditched his dance partner, and the two of us started jumping around like idiots to the upbeat music. We both reverted to children with our dance moves. Easton pulled out the Running Man while I did my best Sprinkler, and we both laughed hysterically. It was the kind of laugh where tears were running down my cheeks and my stomach hurt and I couldn’t pull in enough breath to sustain the laugh. And Easton’s reaction was exactly the same. We switched up our dance moves. He started the Shopping Cart while I moved onto the Lawnmower. We both continued laughing through the entire song, and it felt so freeing and good to be laughing after the heavy day I’d had.

  I gave Easton a tight hug after our dance, and my tears of laughter somehow morphed into sadness.

  Oh God. I was one of those emotional drunk messes. It wasn’t pretty.

  Alcohol tended to fuel emotional highs and lows, but I’d never been hit with the high immediately followed by the low only seconds later.

  Suddenly I was sobbing as my stepbrother held me in a hug. “You okay?” he asked in my ear, and I pulled back and shook my head. He grabbed my hand, pulled me to our table, and threw a few bills down. He said some quick goodbyes, and then the two of us headed out to his car. My tears hadn’t subsided. I was an emotional wreck, and I wasn’t even sure why.

  Easton helped me into his passenger seat, and as soon as he started the car, he started the questions. “What’s going on?”

  We’d never been especially close, but we were both adults now. Maybe he’d have some insight to help me with my major issues.

  And if not, maybe I’d figure out some way to hit on him.

  I didn’t answer his question, and he kept shooting me worried glances throughout our car ride home. I cleared my tears and worked up the courage to do what I’d come here to do. Well, to do what I’d come to do aside from celebrating Thanksgiving with my family.

  I was about to hit on my stepbrother.

  Oh, fuck.

  He pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. I put my hand on his thigh, and he looked down at my hand. He studied it for a moment, and then his eyes looked up at me.

  “Why is your hand on my leg?” he asked quietly. His eyes held none of the heat and the lust men usually directed at me when I put my hand on their thigh.

  “Oh,” I said, removing my hand and feeling like an idiot. “Sorry. I, uh, thought that was my leg.”

  He gave me a strange look and sighed heavily. “Are you okay, Piper?”

  I looked over at him and worked up every last ounce of liquid courage remaining in me. I unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned in toward him. He backed away evenly with my movements, his eyes wide, until his head hit the window.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” He unbuckled his seatbelt and scrambled out of the car. He practically ran into the house, and I sat in his car for a few minutes, wondering how I was ever going to face him again. He had asked a pretty good question. What the fuck was I doing?

  26

  The next morning greeted me with a pounding headache. I turned to check the clock, and my stomach roiled, threatening to lift up the contents of everything I’d consumed the night before.

  And not only did my stomach and head hurt, but my pride was severely damaged after I had tried to kiss my stepbrother and had been denied.

  I would have to play it off as a drunken mistake. That was clearly the only way I’d possibly get through my week at home.

  I took a long, hot shower, and I felt somewhat human again afterward. Every part of me longed to call Scott to tell him how things had gone with my stepbrother the night before. He’d laugh with me and make me feel better. He was one of the few people who knew what I’d been planning aside from Austin and Shannon. Somehow I knew neither of them would offer the same insight as my (former) best friend.

  I picked up my phone after my shower to che
ck my texts, and I had two new ones.

  The first one was from Dax. Wish I was heading to your bed now instead of sleeping alone tonight.

  I felt better that at least he was sleeping alone, even though a small measure of guilt hit me when I thought with disgust about how I’d tried to kiss Easton the night before.

  Another measure of guilt hit me when I saw the second text.

  This guilt was a little bit bigger, though.

  It was from Scott. And when I clicked it to read it, I saw the message I’d typed out the night before. Only it wasn’t in draft mode.

  I’d somehow sent it.

  Oh, fuck.

  My text told Scott I thought I had feelings for him.

  Scott’s reply acknowledged that. You think you do? Or you KNOW you do? Because I can’t watch you with the rock star while you figure it out. Use your time away to decide what you want.

  Tears filled my eyes. It was like a leaky faucet up in there lately.

  His text had been harsh. His words were harsh. But they were words I needed to hear, and there was an honesty behind them that made my heart ache.

  I just wasn’t sure who my heart ached for. It was the same dilemma, only it was getting more and more intricate. I had Dax the Rock Star telling me he missed my bed, and then I had Scott the Best Friend telling me I needed to decide what I wanted.

  The words from Dax fit the sexual nature of our relationship, and the words from Scott fit the emotional side of our relationship.

  So did I want the mind-blowing sex that could turn into a deep emotional connection down the line? Or did I want the deep friendship that may or may not come with a bonus side of amazing sex?

  Hungover the morning after hitting on my stepbrother didn’t seem like the most appropriate time to make that decision.

  So I left my phone in my bedroom and headed down for breakfast. Or, as I noticed the time…lunch.

  Lucky for me, my stepbrother was already out doing his thing when I slipped into my chair at the kitchen table. My mom poured me a steaming cup of coffee, kissed the top of my head, and sat down next to me.