9. Preston
PRESTON
There’s something wrong with my brother, and there’s only one reason I can come up with.
We barely said a word to each other yesterday on the way to and from the hospital for our volunteer hours.
The air in the truck was so thick, it was almost hard to breathe.
We drove to school separately today—he has class before me but usually checks to see if I feel like coming in a little early just so I don’t have to drive. He didn’t ask this time.
The only thing that has changed about our lives is pearls being part of them. That’s it. Everything that’s been fucked up since meeting her is her fault, so if he’s acting differently than usual, it only makes sense that she would be the reason why.
Maybe that’s what I need to tell myself.
Maybe I’m starting to get a little desperate by the time I reach campus on Monday morning.
I don’t know what she did, exactly. Was it kneeing him in the balls?
Maybe he’s feeling bitter because I witnessed that?
It’s pretty fucking lame, if I’m being honest with myself, but who knows?
If that is the reason, the bitch owes him an apology. She owes him an apology either way. And if she thinks me pulling her wig off—totally by accident, I didn’t even know she was wearing one—makes us even, she’s dead fucking wrong.
I don’t have to look hard for her, as it turns out.
I’m not out of my truck yet before I spot her car passing, then parking two rows down.
What a piece of shit. It sort of fits with her, really.
She’s like this fucked-up puzzle with pieces taken from all over the place.
They don’t even fit together or make one complete picture.
That’s her. Walking around in pearls all the time like she’s somebody special, but driving a beat-up piece of shit that belongs in a museum. Or in a scrap heap.
Before I can think about it, I’m out of the truck, following her at a distance.
She’s got balls, walking around and even looking back at the people who look at her.
Instead of avoiding them, keeping her head down, it’s like she’s daring them to say something.
Who the hell is she, and where did she come from with an attitude like that?
No wonder she didn’t think twice about ignoring our warnings and narcing on us to security.
It’s like she just doesn’t give a shit. I can’t tell if that’s something to admire, or if she’s a little off-balance.
What I do know is she’s not looking behind her on her way to the library, meaning it takes nothing to sneak up and catch her off guard as soon as we reach the glass doors, and she spots me over her shoulder.
“Good morning, pearls,” I say with a grin that widens when uncertainty washes over her pale face.
“Going to the library?” she asks once she gets over the surprise. “I didn’t know you could read. Congratulations.”
“And your wig almost looks natural today,” I counter. A bolt of satisfaction zigzags through me when she scowls.
“Would you grow up?” She storms into the building, and I follow close behind, ignoring everything but her.
She’s so fucking strange in so many ways.
She might be the only girl around here I’ve ever been close to who doesn’t wear a shit ton of scented lotions and perfumes, and I don’t know what else.
I like it when girls smell good, but sometimes it’s too damn much.
“We have unfinished business.” I try to keep my voice low—I don’t need some librarian on a power trip, making my life even more of a challenge than it already is right now.
I’m happy enough there’s no volunteer work to be done today.
I don’t need to give Dad an excuse to take up every one of my afternoons.
She ignores me until I corner her in the stacks, where a wall at the opposite end means there’s no escape once I stretch my arms out to the sides and block her from doubling back.
“Jesus Christ.” She closes her eyes and leans against the bookshelf to her right, gripping the strap of her backpack like it’s a lifeline. “I just got here. All I want to do is catch up on a little extra reading before class. Could you just let me live my life?”
“First, you need to apologize to my brother.”
“And why would I do that?” She means it, too. She honestly doesn’t understand what there is to be sorry for. I see it in the weariness written on her face once she opens her eyes to look at me again.
“For starters, you assaulted him.”
“Spare me,” she mutters. “Anybody looking at the recording from the security camera would be able to see you two were menacing me, and I did what I needed to do to get out of the damn elevator. Try again.”
Her spine goes stiff when I take one slow step toward her, then another one.
“Do you really think I care? Do you think either of us cares? We didn’t hurt you.
And if it wasn’t for you and what you did the night you first saw us, none of this would be happening in the first place,” I remind her.
“You stuck your nose where it didn’t belong.
You decided you were better than us. This is what you get for that.
So don’t start acting like a victim now, pearls. ”
Does she notice the way she touches a hand to those pearls once I mention them? “It was two against one. That is never okay.”
Arching an eyebrow, I ask, “Never, ever? What if I told you we were kicking the shit out of the prick who abused our little sister?”
“Bullshit,” she hisses. “Of course, that’s what you would say.”
“It’s the truth. He’s her boyfriend, or was,” I explain. “His name is Brody. They tried to convince us she fell, but we finally got the truth out of her in the ER that day. Then the stupid bastard showed up—probably trying to make sure she wouldn’t tell anybody the truth.”
Her eyes flutter before she gulps. “Really?”
“Do you wanna know the best part? He didn’t press charges against us, so long as she doesn’t press charges against him.
That’s the kind of person we’re talking about.
And my sister is about as small as you are,” I conclude.
“He’s a pretty big guy, in case you couldn’t tell from what you saw. He got what he deserved.”
She believes me. I know she does. She’s not standing as tall. And that fuck you look is draining from her eyes. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have taken your personal stuff out on him in the middle of a parking lot if you didn’t want to get in trouble.”
Another step, another, until she has no choice but to back away, closer to the wall behind her. “Would you give it a rest already?” I ask. “Admit you were wrong.”
“Get away.” Her eyes dart around, an animal looking for an escape. She’s wasting her time. The closer I come, the closer I want to be. This is what I’ve needed. To watch panic settle in. I need to witness her realizing she’s fucking with the wrong person.
“What if I don’t? Not until you promise you’re going to apologize to Easton for what you did to him.”
Her soft laughter is still defiant. “Get real. It’s not happening.”
Her back hits the wall, and she gasps softly before I close in. “You really do like making your life worse than it needs to be, don’t you? Are you stubborn, or do you enjoy pain?”
“Speaking of pain, is it true twins can feel when the other is hurt?” There’s a slightly panicky edge in her voice, but she still refuses to drop the badass act. “Did you feel it when I kneed your twin in the balls? Or maybe you need to find out firsthand what it feels like.”
“Why does everything have to be such a fight?” Before she can react, I turn her in place, shoving her against the wall. When her backpack starts to slip, I pull it off her shoulder, dropping it on the floor.
“What are you doing?” she demands, pushing back against me. “Don’t make me scream.”
“I bet I could make you scream,” I whisper, leaning down, my mouth almost touching her earlobe. “That’s what you need, isn’t it? I finally figured it out. You need to get laid. You’re too tense all the time.”
“Get off me.” She slaps the wall weekly with her palm. It’s almost cute. “You sick fuck.”
She shoves her body against me, which is something she needs to stop doing if she’s serious about getting out of this without ending up with my cock jammed inside her.
As it is, I’m getting a little harder every time she rubs her plump ass against me.
It’s not enough to stand here with my palms pressed against the wall. I need to touch her.
One of my hands finds her hip, and a shudder runs through me from head to toe at the contact. Like this is what I needed all along. Having her like this, so close, warm and wiggling, grunting with every ragged breath she takes.
“That’s right,” I whisper in her ear, letting my lips skim the seashell curve and closing my eyes to soak in the sensations fighting for dominance.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it. Don’t pretend this isn’t what you wanted all along.
Maybe it’s time for me to give you what you want. What do you think?”
All she does is breathe louder than before. No, she’s panting like she just ran all the way here from her car at full speed. There’s something in the sound that slides a needle into the balloon of lust that was starting to swell.
The world slides back into focus, and I lift my head. “Wait. What’s happening? Are you okay?” Instinct makes me back away to give her more air, but it doesn’t help. She’s still out of breath, still leaning against the wall with her cheek touching the surface.
And now I’m thinking about how pale she always is. How weak she seems right now. “Are you sick or something? You could’ve told me before I got close to you.”
A breathless laugh bursts out of her before she shakes her head.
“Even that would be my fault, wouldn’t it?
If you got sick?” Before I can put together a response, she picks up her backpack and shoves her way past me—weakly, still, but I don’t have it in me to stop her after hearing her fight for air the way she did a minute ago.
Besides, I need to process what just happened. It wasn’t that I got hard—if anything, I’d be worried if I didn’t, being pressed up against a firm ass that wouldn’t stop moving against me.
What has me questioning myself is how much I enjoyed that. Beyond getting hard, beyond the thrill that came from touching her. Even beyond listening to the panic that started to leak into her voice. Just touching her, being close to her. I don’t know if I can go without that again.
And I don’t know if I would have been able to stop myself if we were someplace private instead of in the library. If she hadn’t had that panic attack or whatever it was. There wouldn’t have been anything to stop me from finding out what she tastes like.
And I don’t know what to think about that as I emerge from between the shelves, not surprised when I don’t find Emma anywhere nearby before I head for the door.
I followed her, thinking I’d come up with a solution for the weirdness between Easton and me.
All I did was give myself more questions and uncertainty than before.
And plenty to think about later, when I’m home alone. In my room, where I’ll be able to indulge in my fantasies of everything I could’ve done to Emma. Everything I still want to do.