Chapter 7 Rush
RUSH
My back is killing me, and my body feels like a damn furnace. I groan as I come to, my head splitting from a night of drinking with Freddie and my teammates. The TV light is bright, and I hear a heavy throat clearing. I’m acutely aware of something heavy pressed against me.
My eyes flutter as I try to focus, but I can see a large shadow against me, and one looming over me.
“What the hell…” I rub my eyes, clearing my vision and the first thing I see is…exactly what or who is pressed against me.
Nora fucking Brighton.
Brett’s…ex. The woman he stupidly let go. She did say they broke up, or rather he broke up with her because the bastard cheated on her.
My memory is hazy at best as I try to remember what happened, but I barely have time to think because Freddie speaks.
“We need to talk, Russ,” he says bitterly. Panic and anxiety lace through me as confusion chases the wandering thoughts.
I glance from him to Nora, who rests in my arms underneath the blanket. Her body is warm and solid against mine, and I like how it feels. Too much. Not enough. Something in between.
My cock jumps in my sweats because it’s morning, and because I’ve got Nora curled up against me.
Like it should have been.
Like it always should have been…
I saw her first, technically—at one of Brett’s victory parties, but before I could swipe right, my brother did. He waltzed over to her and gave her his Captain Charisma “I’m Brett Sterling” smile, and the rest was history.
I never told Brett, of course. The only person who knows how I feel or what happened that night is Freddie.
He’s always been my confidant, and that hasn’t changed.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel some sort of relief having someone to be able to talk to about the feelings I know I shouldn’t have.
It helps to be able to just…vent. To be able to gripe about my brother and how I don’t think he deserves her. Eleanor Brighton is the kind of woman you wife up fucking immediately.
Not the woman you cheat on with some other woman.
Fuck, Brett is an idiot, but me…
The way Freddie is looking at me—no, glaring at me—right now makes me feel like I’m not far off from the idiot label, myself.
I open my mouth, but no words come out. Nora stirs in my arms, and Freddie grunts, his shoulders tightening as he says, “I’ll be in the kitchen. Making breakfast.”
It’s the way he says the words. Sharp. Like knives.
He’s pissed.
Fuck.
My heart races as Nora shifts in my arms and Freddie gives me his back and heads for the kitchen. Her movement against my body makes my cock twitch, and I absentmindedly adjust myself under the blankets, realizing how fucking hard I am right now. Thank God Freddie couldn’t see that.
I’m sure he’d kill me if he knew about my issue right now.
I shift away from Nora regretfully, because I don’t need her to see or feel my overactive cock right now. Not when I can barely remember what happened.
She opens her eyes and glances at me, and then I watch her pupils go wide.
Shit.
I fucked up, and I know it.
Whatever happened between us…shouldn’t have happened.
“Rush…” she says shakily as she sits up, pushing away from me. I hate it. Hate the feeling of her getting further away.
My stupid cock voices his protest too. But for the moment I’m thankful for the distance if only so she can’t see my damn cock trying to punch through my sweats right now. That would for sure be a bad thing. Not that I don’t want Nora to know how I feel, but…I know this situation is delicate.
I won’t pretend I’m not happy to hear she and Brett are broken up. I might be pissed at him because of what he did, but I also know how I feel. How it almost feels like the universe is trying to send me some sort of message, push me toward what it knows I want more than anything.
But this situation is delicate. I know that. Whatever happened between us…well, we were drunk. That much I know.
But no matter how much I ransack my brain trying to remember, I can’t remember much beyond riding home with Freddie, and Nora throwing up on the side of the road…
“Nora.” I swallow hard. “Are you…okay?”
“I…” She runs a hand through her messy red waves, looking around the room. “I don’t know, I think so, I just…uh…”
She moves to the other side of the couch, pulling her knees to her chest. The blanket slips off of her, and in the morning light pouring through the living room, I can’t help but appreciate the view.
Even first thing in the morning, hungover, she’s breathtaking.
Her bright red hair is messy, her waves more pronounced.
Her pale skin contrasts beautifully with my boxy white tee, which does nothing to hide her nipples peaking through the fabric, likely because it’s early and it is a bit chilly in here.
Her blue eyes glance at me with panic. Fear.
In the distance I can hear Freddie banging around in the kitchen, and I’m acutely aware of the tension, the unspoken words between us.
“What, um…” She tucks some fiery red hair behind her ear. “Do you remember what—”
“Not really,” I admit, running a hand through my own messy hair. I don’t look at her when I say it, because I can’t. I can’t remember much. Just bits and pieces, and not everything makes sense. “Given we’re still clothed, though, I doubt anything much happened,” I say carefully.
Nora’s eyebrows furrow and she bites her lip. “Right. Of course. I mean…I wasn’t that drunk,” she says defensively.
“I mean, neither was I, but—”
But I can’t remember what happened after walking in the door.
Shame and guilt wrecks me.
The sound of footsteps pull my attention and I note that Tommy is up, walking down the hall already dressed like every other morning. His gaze carries over to me before he looks at Nora.
She turns to look at him, and I note her pink cheeks as she says, “Oh, good morning, Tommy.”
He grunts out a sound as he waves, and I notice his pace speeds up. “M—morning, Nora.”
He stops, looking between me and her, and I realize what he must be thinking, given the fact that Nora is not the first woman to grace this house. Or this couch. With me.
“Freddie gave Nora a ride last night because she got sick. At the club.”
I have never felt so judged by my baby brother before. The way he’s looking at me, I swear if he could murder me, he would.
All he does is nod at me, his gaze drifting to Nora. “Hope you’re feeling…better,” he says carefully.
Nora lets her knees down, her bare feet grazing the top of the carpet. Her shoulders relax as she looks at him, and a spark of jealousy bounds inside me, which is weird. I have nothing to be jealous about when it comes to Tommy. Especially women and Tommy.
I love my baby brother, but he’s not exactly Cassanova or anything.
He’s never had a girlfriend that I know of, and I’m pretty sure he’s still a virgin.
I’ve offered to help him before, build his confidence or whatever, take him out…
but he always declines. Refuses to get on dating apps.
If he gave a shit, maybe put some effort into talking to women or dating, I know he’d give me a run for my money in the pussy department.
He’s got that whole boy next door vibe going on with his big green eyes and dishwater-blond hair.
Can’t grow a beard to save his life, so he’s always got that sleek, clean-cut look, and underneath all those big anime shirts and athletic pants he wears, he’s just as built as me, though no one would ever know it.
I try to shove the weird jealousy away. I’m definitely hungover. That’s probably all this is. The weirdness.
“Yes…well, a little, I guess. My head is killing me, and I feel exhausted, but then again I’m not exactly twenty-one anymore,” Nora says with a nervous laugh.
Tommy laughs, but it’s awkward. Like he’s forgotten how, or like he’s trying to mask.
But why would Tommy need to mask himself in front of Nora? He knows her. Even if it’s odd to see her here, it’s not like she’s never been here. It’s not like she hasn’t been around for a whole year.
Because she was dating your brother.
And now she’s single, wearing your clothes, on your couch, and you can’t remember what fucking happened.
Freddie waltzes back into the room. “And…Sleeping Beauty has awakened,” he says, his voice softer than it was earlier.
Nora stiffens. She shakes her head, pushing herself off of the couch. “I need to go,” she says hurriedly, looking around the room. “Where the hell are my shoes?”
Tommy coughs. “Think I saw them in the bathroom…” He points down the hall.
She nods, running off toward the bathroom, and I don’t think. I just get up and follow her.
Along with Tommy and Freddie.
We nearly knock one another over trying to get down the hall, but Nora is in and out of the bathroom, holding her heels, within seconds. She stops, nearly knocking into the wall that is the three of us.
Freddie moves to the side, giving her ample space to move, and I don’t miss the blush in her cheeks as she does so.
I glance at Tommy as Freddie casually takes off after her.
“Why don’t you have something to eat first, Nora?” Freddie asks. “Then I can take you home.”
Tommy looks at me for a second, his eyebrows furrowed before he gives me a wide berth and follows Freddie, leaving me in his dust.
I shake off the weirdness and follow him until we get to the kitchen, where Nora is sliding on her heels, and I have to smirk because the sight is downright funny, but also strangely cute.
Nora Brighton in my T-shirt, my sweatpants, and heels.
“It’s fine, I’ll just uh…call an Uber…”
“No, you will not,” I say as I push forward toward her. “One of us can—”
“Oh, I couldn’t be a bother. I mean, you did enough already, and I…I don’t want to ask you to go out of your way to drop me off at my brother’s, and—”
“I’ll take you,” Tommy says, and I nearly have a heart attack.
I turn to look at him, the shock on my face evident because Tommy is not one to volunteer for anything, and his conversational skills are about as lush as a desert most of the time. Freddie must be as shocked as me, because he turns to look at our baby brother as well.
“I mean, your brother Matt lives on Caraway, right?” Tommy says. “That’s like…two streets over from campus.”
“Um…yeah, it is. How did you—”
Tommy shifts his weight, and I can tell from his sudden twitching fingers he’s nervous, which makes me nervous. “You uh…told me last year when your brother bought the place. Remember?”
I try to think back to when she would have said something, but I can’t seem to remember.
But then again, my brain is fucked up this morning in general, and Tommy’s always been the one with the insane memory, so I’m just going to have to take his word for it.
“Oh, right,” Nora says, clutching her dress to her chest.
Freddie clears his throat as Tommy says, “Besides, I have to leave for campus anyway, so I don’t mind—”
Nora looks at him, her bottom lip between her teeth. “I guess, if it’s on your way…”
Tommy nods. “Okay.”
“You should eat something first,” Freddie says, and I blink out of my haze.
“Freddie’s right, you should—”
“I’m good.” She clutches her clothes to her chest and nods. “No, thank you, but I can’t. My…stomach’s just not feeling the idea of food right now, and I think…I think I should just go.” She looks at me, her gaze roving over me with an expression of guilt and remorse and something else.
Intrigue, maybe?
Of course, I could be projecting. She might not remember much either. At least that’s what I tell myself, because I can’t ask her right now what she remembers. If she remembers anything at all.
Freddie nods. “Okay, then.”
Tommy pushes past me and pulls on his backpack strap, nodding for Nora to follow him.
And she does. Because of course she does.
She doesn’t want to be here, that’s clear. I try and tell myself it’s not me. But I know that’s a lie. I saw her face when she woke up. Felt her in my arms.
I may not be able to remember what happened completely, but there’s enough room to speculate given the fact we were cuddled together like a damn couple.
So I don’t fight Tommy’s suggestion. I don’t even protest when she follows him out the door. Because I’ve never felt so guilty in all my life.
It’s quiet for a moment before Freddie speaks. “Russell—”
“Don’t.” I hold up my hand, not wanting a lecture from him. I swear, despite the fact that he’s not even thirty yet, you’d think the guy was older, like he was our father or something.
Technically, Brett’s the oldest at thirty-two, and Freddie’s just a few years older than me at twenty-eight.
But you’d never know it. You’d think living with two guys in their early twenties would ease him up, make him a little less of a damn square, but that would be the furthest thing from the truth.
We may live together, but that doesn’t mean he has any right to tell me what the fuck to do.
“I don’t need to—”
He sighs, and I push past him, toward the kitchen. “I’m tired as fuck, hungover, and I feel like shit right now, so excuse me if I’m not in the mood for one of your damn lectures.”
“And whose fault is that?” he asks, and I turn to glare at him. He stands in the kitchen, arms crossed and a resting asshole face that pisses me off as much as it comforts me.
“Fred, I said I don’t want to do this right now,” I gripe as I head for the coffee pot, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee hitting me hard. I set to fixing myself a cup as he shakes his head.
“That’s the problem, Russ,” he says calmly. “You never want to deal with your actions. And most of the time, I can let that go, but when it comes to Nora—”
I sip my coffee, not wanting to respond to him or his judgmental voice. I need to get a shower, eat something, and head to the gym.
Yeah, that’s what I fucking need right now. The gym…I need to work out this weird frustration and guilt, get Nora and the feeling of her warm body next to mine out of my damn mind.