My Rose

5. Briggs

Chapter 5

Briggs

“But, I think, if desire were attacking me I’d feel it.” ― Ovid

M y kicks were sloppy, and my fists weren’t doing much better. Every time the black bag spun, I’d stand back and watch until it stilled. The dim yellow lights weren’t changing the color of the bag, no matter how many times I tried to blink it away, or tried to convince myself it was more navy than black. Because black was the color of Rose’s lace bra that peeked out from her jacket as she unzipped it, trying to lend it to me for warmth. Me , the one whose heart was more frozen over than the streets were going to be in the next week or so.

If only she knew.

“Harder, Briggs! You aren’t using your torso!” That’s not the only thing I wasn’t using. I glared over my shoulder at my trainer, narrowing my eyes to the point where most people would feel uncomfortable, but he just stood there and crossed his arms. He was fairly new since the last one had pissed me off and even though I was usually excellent at remembering names and faces, his was unmemorable. I almost pulled the gun from my waistband when I walked in, thinking someone had broken into my gym on the outskirts of town. It was technically a warehouse, but I’d converted it when my father told me to gain more muscle or get the fuck out. I should have chosen the latter, but there was a drive in me to prove him wrong and it was the only thing my father ever complimented me on. Not that I needed his approval.

“You’re done for the day.” The fuck I am. “You should go home, I’ll draw up a better meal plan and give it to Rhonda by dinner.”

I looped an arm over the bag, steadying it. “I’m done when I say I’m done.” A bead of water dropped onto the floor, drawing my eyes down to where it splashed into the puddle of sweat I’d formed over the last few hours. The clock on the wall told me I’d been at it for three. “Kevin, was it? ”

“Carl.” He unfurled his arms and pulled out a clean towel that had hung from his back pocket. “All I’m saying is, you look like you need rest, and possibly food. Dean said—”

“I know what Dean said.” Kevin-Carl was Dean’s personal trainer for years, and after firing my last one, Dean insisted I use his. And I trusted Dean enough to take his advice. That didn’t mean I had to like who his trainer was. Kevin-Carl seemed to have a list of my top irritants and mentally referred to it every time he opened his thin little mouth.

I took the towel he held out for me and picked up my bag. “Rest. Eat. Come back tomorrow.” He raised his brow and opened his mouth for a split-second before snapping it shut again. He probably wanted to point out how I needed to keep my mind on the bag, but he didn’t know my mind was on the tits of a girl who barely knew anything about me, and I doubt he’d have the balls to say anything about my dick needing to stay in the gym as well.

I slid my watch back on and then pulled my phone out from my bag, scowling when I saw Clarissa’s texts that should’ve been about the party tonight. “Tomorrow, two o’clock. Be late and you’re done.” His throat bobbed, then he nodded and started cleaning each piece of equipment I’d touched since I’d gotten there.

I opened the passenger-side door from where I remained sitting in the driver’s seat as Clarissa tapped her foot along the pavement. She bent over the seat, peering inside like someone could fit in the non-existent backseat. “You’re late, Briggsy.”

My jaw worked at the annoying tone she used, and the god-awful nickname I’d always hated. “I’m ten minutes early.” I didn’t bother lifting my wrist to check the time. Punctuality was deeply ingrained into who I was.

“Daddy always says, ‘Ten minutes early is fifteen minutes late.’” She sat down in the seat, rubbing her fingers and tapping her pointed, fake nails along the car door immediately after it shut. “I’ve missed this.” She flipped her red hair over her shoulder, probably trying to accentuate her shoulders or chest or some part of her she wanted me to look at.

“I can’t say I feel the same.” I ignored her scoff and typed in the address she’d given me in one of her several texts before pulling out of the long driveway. Between the five photos of different outfits and one in barely-there lingerie that I immediately scrolled beyond, she’d talked almost non-stop about going to the party and getting out of her ‘boring’ home. Her mother left the day after Clarissa arrived to travel around Europe for the week, and honestly, I couldn’t blame her for wanting to get out of the empty mansion because I never wanted to be in mine, either. But her loneliness usually took the form of sexual frustration, which only seemed to get worse because I wasn’t biting.

“This address is in town.” I knew exactly whose house it was, too.

“Uh-huh.” She twirled her gum around her long nails before popping it back in and smacking down on it loudly.

My jaw worked. “You don’t like Shuster. ”

“No, but I like parties. And alcohol. And I brought party favors.” She pulled out a small, clear bag with white powder inside and flicked the bag between her fingers, settling the powder to the bottom.

“Clarissa.” I held my hand out. “No.”

“No?”

“Fuck no.”

She pouted and I could almost hear her eyes rolling as she whined, “You’re no fun anymore.” She slapped the bag into my hand as my other hand rolled the car window down, my knee taking the wheel. I tossed the bag and closed the window before she could get another word out.

“What if a squirrel eats that?” she shrieked, the false sympathy not coming through as convincingly as she had intended.

I shrugged. “Sounds like the squirrel’s in for a good night, then.”

“Ha! So you do think it’s fun.” She poked my bicep with her finger and I flinched back from her cold touch.

“It’s fucking stupid is what it is. You know what you’re like when you take that.” I didn’t doubt there were close to a hundred guys who knew exactly what she was like on it. In reality, I just didn’t want to put up with her touching me, or anyone else, and having to haul her ass back home after whatever embarrassing stunt she’d inevitably pull.

“You don’t even know what it was. Maybe it was—”

“Molly. Not even pure, at that. Don’t think I could ever forget your drug of choice for parties. Kind of hard to forget.” Because I’d usually find her later that night. With or on top of someone .

“Oh, don’t be so broody. Bygones and all. Besides, I’ve grown since then.” What, two inches because of the stilettos?

“Says the girl who just pulled out a bag of Molly in my car, and sent me, along with possibly five other men, a nude photo.” She eyed me over, folding her arms over her chest as we turned down the road the party was on.

“I wasn’t nude.” Clarissa lowered her voice and slouched in the seat. “And it was only three others,” she mumbled under her breath. Yeah, if that three had a one in front or after it, I’d be more inclined to believe her.

I parked several houses down, not wanting to cause a scene with the car which made Clarissa groan. “Seriously, why do you have to be so weird about being filthy rich? I enjoy it, you should, too.” I didn’t bother replying. She’d never get it, anyway. We exited the car and she cursed as her too-high heel found a crack in the sidewalk. “Briggsy, can you just carry me there? My shoes are going to break before I get to do anything fun in them.”

“No. And I’d prefer it if you kept your promise and didn’t try to touch anyone. That includes, at the top of the fucking list, me.”

“It wasn’t too long ago that you really loved it when I—”

I cut her off, “Years. It’s been years. ” And loving anything about Clarissa was a bit of a stretch.

She shrugged and adjusted the bottom of her black dress that barely skimmed her ass implants. “Right. All the more reason to reacquaint ourselves.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Never happening again.”

“Why, is there a girl? ”

I paused, bending down to fix the ties of my shoelaces. Is there a girl? No, not really. But knowing we were about to be at August’s house was making me tense. I’d wanted to beat the fuck out of the guy for years, but I was fighting that urge knowing that Rose would be there, too. She’d see me for who I was, and that same pitiful look she gave me at Jim’s would turn into hatred. Something about the thought of her hating me, for seeing the monster I really was, was making my teeth grind and my fingers twitch.

I stood, brushing my hands on my jeans before continuing. “You look like you need a drink more than I do, Briggsy.” Clarissa stopped and cursed as her heel found another crack. “Is this town so poor they can’t fix the fucking sidewalks?”

“I’d take that silver spoon out of your mouth for you, but I think you swallowed it on all those dicks you’ve been sucking.” Our friendship was forced from the beginning, but if Dean wanted me to go with her to a party to keep her safe, then that’s what I was going to do. And that was all I was going to do when it came to her.

“So bitter,” she choked out, putting her hand around her throat as she turned back to me with her mouth popped open, her tongue and hand working in unison to thrust an imaginary dick into her mouth. “Are you going to make us leave early, too?”

“Yep.” She groaned more at my reply. “You get three hours, tops. If anyone tries to take you home, you tell me. Got it?”

“What if we’re already at his home?” She wiggled her drawn-on eyebrows at me. There wasn’t much that wasn’t fake about Clarissa.

“I don’t think his dick grew since you last fucked him.” Not since the night when she convinced me to host a party after I turned seventeen where she ended up riding August in one of the guest bedrooms. I’d lied to Dean about why we broke up. He never heard from me that his daughter couldn’t keep her legs closed, but I was pretty sure he figured it out over time.

“No, but alcohol, and—”

I held my hands up. “I can’t babysit you at every party.” It was a lie, we both knew I’d be able to keep her safe, even if a big part of me wanted her to get a taste of what she put me through. But I couldn’t do that to Dean.

“Why’d you come, then?” She raised one brow as we walked up the steps to August’s front porch, music blasting through the front door and vibrating the two windows next to it. His house wasn’t necessarily small, otherwise Clarissa would have had little to no interest in him. He was upper-middle class in a small town, so his home was essentially a miniature version of my main estate.

My jaw tightened as Rose walked by the front window, wearing a tight red dress that hugged every natural, petite curve as she made her way over to August and his friends. I didn’t notice the silence stretching on between us as she stared at me with a fascinated look. “Because Dean asked me to,” I finally answered.

Clarissa followed my gaze and I snapped my eyes back to the door. “Right. Because my dad wanted you to, huh? Just doing as you’re told, like usual?” Her voice was thick with sarcasm.

“Yep.” I put my hand on the doorknob.

“You know, we could just skip the party and go back to your place.” She leaned in closer, and whispered, “You can imagine I’m someone else, if you want.” She reached for my forearm and I pushed the door open to avoid her touch.

My eyes narrowed on her. “Three hours, Clarissa. If you’re not ready to leave by then, I’ll have no choice but to tell your dad you decided to hang back to fuck every guy here. Got it?”

She stomped her heel on the porch. “You wouldn’t.”

I tapped my palm on the door. “Three hours, that’s all you get.”

Two hours went by. Two hours of drinking shit beer from Jim’s Stuff, tapping the keg a few times to find it was the same beer that was in the bottles and didn’t taste any better coming from a keg. Not many people recognized me, so it was easy to fade into the background for a while in the grassy space behind the pool until I needed more alcohol in my system to pass the time. One more hour, and I’d be able to take Clarissa back to her house and Dean would get off my back.

Thanks to the windows that filled the walls from floor to ceiling along the back, Clarissa hadn’t left my sight long enough for me to lose where she was in the house. But there were several times my tracking moved on to Rose, who hadn’t seemed to notice me beyond the curt nod she gave me when I walked in—when her cheeks blushed over, matching the red hue of her dress, her light blue eyes standing out against her dark hair that curled in long waves down her back .

And I’d left her my number right after she unintentionally showed a bit too much skin. However, that wasn’t what made me do it. There was a look she gave me shortly after she fumbled for her zipper—a brief moment when her eyes had said more than any other person’s ever had. I watched her go from eye-fucking me to becoming near-panicked. Guilt twisted in my gut just thinking about that look and how fast it moved from empathy to fear. As much as I couldn’t stop glancing at her slight curves, wondering what she’d feel like in my palms as I guided her hips on top of me, that guilt was still there.

Inescapable and damning.

I snapped my eyes to where Rose was before—next to August at the billiards table outside—but she’d vanished. Probably rushed off to the bathroom to avoid being ogled by more than just me as I hid in the shadows. So instead, I watched August and took another long sip of my beer as he quite loudly talked to his friends about which girl he planned to take to his room after the party.

I didn’t even notice my feet crunching in the cold, dying grass when I heard ‘Rose’ leave his lips in the same sentence as ‘bedroom’ and ‘fucking wants it.’ All I saw was red, like her dress.

“Briggs, didn’t notice you were here. Good to see you, man.” August straightened and closed the gap between us, his hand extended and trembling slightly as I glared down at him.

I didn’t put my hand out. “August. Always a pleasure.” It was never a pleasure seeing his thin face, much less hearing words come from his mouth that were vulgar enough to make me want to toss him into the pool behind me .

He swiped his rejected hand through his greasy hair, looking back at his friends, a faint chuckle weaseling its way through his mouth. “I’ve got a game going. Care to join?” He tossed his thumb over his shoulder like I couldn’t see the set table behind him, his skinny, little throat bobbing as he waited for my answer.

I should’ve declined, but instead, I felt the cockiest grin spread across my face. If I couldn’t beat him physically into the pool, then I could kick his ass in a game and humiliate him while I waited another hour. I didn’t bother acknowledging him by speaking as I walked over to the edge and grabbed a cue stick from the rack along the wall.

“Cool. Alright. Should we flip to see who goes first?” August reached into his pocket, pulling out a quarter from his tight jeans.

“Doesn’t matter who starts, I’ll always win.” I winked back at him, turning my hatred into a competition. Just as August pocketed the coin and took up position to go first, Rose walked back out onto the deck. August tossed his head over his shoulder and let out a low whistle, eyeing her curves in a way that made blood rush into my ears.

“You wanna take the first shot, Rosie?” August moved away from the table, letting Rose step in front of him. Her eyes met mine for a second, her cheeks flushing against the cold as she rubbed her arms. Again, she wasn’t dressed appropriately for the weather, but my agitation fixed on him—he hadn’t offered her the jacket on his shoulders, or if he did, she hadn’t taken it. I chose to believe the latter to resist the urge to toss him in the pool yet again.

“I don’t know how to play, you know that.” She eased up against the table, pushing her lower stomach into it. August came up behind her and positioned his noodle-like arms on either side of her, caging her body with his.

“I can help with that.” He leaned into Rose and shifted her hair to the side. She glanced at me again before he continued, “I just need you to blow on my balls first.”

His friends howled and she wriggled uncomfortably against the table. My fingers wrapped around the cue stick, my knuckles turning white. My shoulders bunched underneath my jacket, the jacket I wanted to take off and throw at her just to make sure she was warm enough to stay outside. Or maybe I should’ve wanted her to go back inside so I could finish the game of pool without thinking about pressing my own body to hers against the table. As unreasonable as it was, seeing him act that way with her was making my anger worse.

Much worse.

August lifted the cue ball and cocked a grin at her, his stained and yellowed teeth from all the cigarettes he smoked more noticeable against the white ball in his hand. “Blow. It’s for luck, Ro.”

“Oh.” The reluctance was heavy in her eyes that strayed to me as she blew on the ball. August set it down on the table and leaned into her body more, directing her to bend in a certain way that made his friends laugh from the sidelines as he fit a cue stick in her hand. Rose flashed them a violent look, and I smiled to myself as they all silenced.

What a little viper.

The rational side of me told me to stop being territorial over what wasn’t mine, but the irrational part justified she wasn’t August’s either. He’d string her along for the ride, as he had been doing for way too fucking long, but he’d never settle, not even if she did think they were the best of friends. He was no friend of hers, and most likely never had the intention of being her friend. He just liked the way she gave in to him.

Maybe it was time to change that.

She awkwardly clutched the stick but still managed to break the rack of balls and send a few into the awaiting slots.

“Good shot.” I nodded at her, and she smiled back.

Yeah, he definitely can’t have her.