14. Chapter Fourteen
Earlier that afternoon…
Getting rideshares around town is going to drain my wallet. Not that I have much left, but whatever’s there will be used to pay for rides from point A to point B. I’m going to have to stop going out, or if I do, I’ll have to make sure I go when Chris does. Or suck it up and walk.
The moment I set foot out of the car, I’m hit with heavy rock music.
Mark’s band plays loud as hell, and I bet the entire block can hear them.
I smile as I make my way to the recording-studio-slash-hang-out around the back of the house. Back in high school, Mark and his band mates turned the garage into a place they could jam so they wouldn’t piss off the neighbors. Much good that did, considering no matter what they did to soundproof, it didn’t work.
There’s a crowd in front of the garage, blocking most of my view, but I can certainly hear them. The group of people take up the driveway and the small yard. The area looks smaller than I remember, but not much has changed.
The old basketball hoop is still up by the house, and I remember coming here after school and playing two on two with the guys while Mila studied. That girl was always studying. She’s the reason Mark and Chris passed high school. Not that they’re stupid, because they’re not. They just had other things on their minds. Like girls.
Mila spots me and bounces over, giving me a tight hug. “I’m so glad you came.”
“They sound good,” I say, gesturing to Mark’s band. “They still going by Accidental Atrocity?”
Mila rolls her eyes. “Unfortunately.” She turns to face them, watching them for a moment. Her smile is slow forming, but bright and proud. No matter how much her brother annoys her, she’s proud of his talent. The two of them barely have anything in common, but they are always there for each other—no matter what. “They have gotten better though, haven’t they?”
I nod, turning my attention back to the band. When they finish the song, something I don’t recognize, they go right into another. The crowd is full of people bobbing their heads, head banging, and singing. I realize no one looks familiar, though I’m sure I know some from school.
“Where’s Chris?” I ask Mila, looking around.
She crosses her arms over her chest and huffs, “Inside.”
I groan internally, giving her a side hug and head into the house to look for him. Her response tells me he’s up to no good.
There are even more people in here, liquor bottles all over the kitchen counters and table. I didn’t think this would be a full-on party.
This house was Mark and Mila’s parents’ house, but they passed away when we were in high school. The twins lived with their aunt for a while, but once they turned eighteen, they got the house and have been here ever since. As far as I know, they don’t plan on moving or getting rid of it.
I make myself a drink—rum and cola—then go in search of Chris, so I can let him know I made it.
I check the entire downstairs and don’t find him anywhere, which means only one thing.
He’s upstairs.
Where the bedrooms are.
Damnit, Chris.
Now I know why Mila wasn’t happy when she told me where he was. If he’s hooking up with someone in her house, I’m going to be pissed. That’s a low blow no one deserves.
Mark and Mila living together is quite a surprise, considering their lifestyles are so different. Last I knew, they had a ton of rules in place that they both follow, no matter what. One of them is that Mila gets the downstairs to herself, and it’s off-limits to everyone. The space isn’t big, just the basement that was finished up, but it’s enough for her. Complete with a full bathroom and small kitchen. Another rule was only one party a week, but if I remember correctly, that’s since changed because once a week is a lot. Now that Mila works full time, I can’t imagine her being okay with this many people being here so often. I also think it’s Mark’s responsibility to clean all this shit up, since he’s the one who throws the parties. Mila is the bookworm; Mark is the rock star.
I head upstairs, going to the right. Mark took over his parents’ old bedroom, which is the master bedroom to the left. There’s all but one door open up here. So if Chris isn’t in this room, I have no idea where he is. I knock, and don’t get a response, so I put my ear to the door to listen. There’s some grunting. Not sure if it’s Chris, but if not, I’ll apologize and move on. If it is, he’s going to get an earful because what the actual fuck is he doing?
I twist the knob and push the door in, and yep. There’s Chris lying on the bed with a girl on his dick. It’s barely four. How is he this drunk already? Honestly, that better be his excuse. Because if he’s doing this shit sober? I’m not sure what to think about that.
“Christopher,” I bark at him. He turns his head toward me lazily and smirks. “What the fuck are you doing?” I snap.
The girl turns toward me, winks, and grabs her tits.
I scoff and bring my attention back to Chris.
“He ain’t interested in you, babe,” he says to her, smacking her ass.
“Oh? Do I get to watch some guy on guy action?” she responds.
“Don’t be gross,” I snap.
“I’m offended,” Chris barks out.
“What the fuck are you doing? Mila is downstairs.”
“Yeah, and?” Chris says, holding onto the girl’s hips to keep her in place.
She’s still riding him, and I swear to god, if he comes while I’m standing here, I will knock him the hell out.
“Don’t play dumb, Chris,” I seethe.
“There’s nothing going on with me and Mila. She knows it. I know it. Now, if you don’t mind?” He shoos me with a flick of his wrist.
I can hardly contain my anger. But I do, because I don’t want to make a scene in this house.
“When you catch herpes, don’t come crying to me,” I hiss as I slam the door shut. The girl screeches some annoyed sound. I suck down my drink as I stand outside the door. The second it’s done, I hurry downstairs to make another because after what I just saw? I need it.
The amount of people in this house is making my skin crawl, but I make my way through them and to the kitchen where I go heavy on the rum when pouring my drink.
“Bryson, right?” I look to my left and find a vaguely familiar looking guy standing there.
“That’s me,” I say, topping off my rum with some cola.
“Tomas,” he says, pressing his hand to his chest. “We know each other from that stupid dating app.”
I take in his bright smile, shaggy blond hair, and honey brown eyes. He’s cute. I search my brain, forcing away the image of that girl on Chris’s dick, and focus on the task at hand. Tomas, from a dating app? It hits me.
“Oh, shit. How’s it going?” I ask, picking up my drink and sipping from the top so it doesn’t spill. I may have filled it up quite a bit.
I’m glad I remember this guy and don’t have to pretend I do or make him feel awkward by admitting I don’t. My senior year, I’d tried out a gay dating app. Met a few guys, but never met up* with any of them. I was too chicken.
“Not much. Didn’t realize you were coming back to town. You moved to New York, right?” he asks, reaching for a bottle of vodka and the cranberry juice to make himself a drink.
“Rhode Island, actually. But yeah. I graduated, so here I am.” I gesture around, smiling.
“Congrats. That’s great.”
“The graduating part, maybe.”
He chuckles and we make our way outside, drinks in hand.
“So how do you know Mark?” he asks.
“We went to high school together. How do you?”
“Their bassist, Rex, he’s my older brother.”
“Small world,” I comment. I’m not familiar with any of Mark’s bandmates. They aren’t the same people I remember him playing with in high school, which is probably why they’re doing much better.
“Small town,” he responds.
“Ain’t that the truth?”
The music stops, and Mark comes on the mic. “We’re going to take a break to get some dranks!” The crowd whoops and applauses, and they all flood toward the house. So glad I got out here when I did.
Knocking echoes around the yard. I look around, trying to figure out where it’s coming from, noting many people are doing the same. The sound isn’t a normal knocking on wood or on a door but sounds almost underwater. When someone points up to the house, barking out a laugh, I look that way.
“Holy fuck,” I mutter, shaking my head.
There is no way in hell…
Chris has the blond girl against the window, her tits smushed against the glass, fucking her from behind, holding up the universal symbol for rock and roll. I look away, and immediately my gaze finds Mila, who looks like she’s going to throw up. She stares for a moment, turns green, and rushes off.
“Hey, I gotta go,” I say to Tomas, hurrying after Mila who ran to the front of the house. I toss my drink in a can I pass on the way, but not before guzzling as much as I can without choking on the ice.
She’s getting into her red Buggy when I round the house, which is parked in the small semi-circle driveway.
“Mila!” I call, hurrying over. She waits for me to reach her, but when I get there, I have nothing to say.
“I just need to get out of here for a bit,” she says calmly.
“Can I come with you?”
She smiles, but it’s sad. “Sure.”
I move around to the other side and get into the passenger seat. I’m not worried about her doing anything stupid, like hurting herself or running away. Mila has always been clear-headed and logical. Though, I say that, and she’s still somehow a mess over Chris. She backs out of the driveway and heads away from town. We end up at a park that has a few walking trails, so we get out of the car and walk one.
“How long has he been like this?” I ask after about five minutes of silence.
Mila shrugs, shaking her head. “Little over a year. He drank often the moment he turned twenty-one, but something about this last year has made him worse. I don’t know…”
“So much has changed here, yet so much is the same. It’s confusing as hell. I was so happy to come back home and see my best friend, and I walk into this. It’s like he’s a different person.”
“That’s how we all feel.”
Though it shouldn’t, it does make me feel better that I’m not the only one who recognizes he has a problem. That something is going on with him.
I throw my arm around her shoulder and pull her closer to me. We stop walking, so I pull her into a full hug.
“Why do you deal with it?”
“I don’t. At least, I don’t want to.” She sniffles, and I hug her tighter. “I can’t help the way I feel. I try not to talk to him as much as I used to. We don’t hang out like we did, but we have the same friends, so it’s inevitable.”
“I really want to kick his ass,” I mutter.
“I really don’t want you to do that,” she says.
I huff out a laugh, and step back. “He’d deserve it.”
“Probably, but fighting isn’t the answer.”
“Mila, Mila… too wise for your age.”
I pat her head, and she swats me away, letting out a little laugh.
We walk more and end up at the top of a hill that overlooks the park. There are a couple of benches, and no one is here, so we sit at one.
“What made you come back?” she asks.
“There was nothing for me in Rhode Island outside of school.”
“If you need anything, Bryson, just ask.”
I smile at her and take her hand. “I appreciate that. Seriously I do. But the fact so many people keep offering me things, because they know I have nothing, isn’t helping my ego.”
She laughs, resting her head on my shoulder. I appreciate her so much. The fact I can be honest about things like this and know I won’t get any judgment from her is great. Female friends are so much different from male friends. They’re needed for all the emotional stuff, and I’m grateful for her.
“You can’t look at it that way, Bry. We just want to help you because we know you’d help us if the tables were turned. You did the right thing. You graduated high school, then college. It isn’t easy for everyone all the time. Sometimes people need help, and that’s okay.”
“Thanks, Mila. That helps.”
“Does it really?” she asks with a raised brow.
“No, not really.”
We both laugh.
We sit together, chatting about nothing important for an hour before we decide to leave. Mila drops me off at the Harper’s and tells me she’s going to the movies with one of her girlfriends.
Her mood is a little better when she leaves, but not as good as it could be.
I’m so mad at Chris. So fucking mad at him.
The door is unlocked, so I let myself in. I should probably ask for a copy of the key. Or just hold on to the spare.
Cole pops his head out of the kitchen, a confused look on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he says, stepping into the hallway. He’s wearing that concerned father look. Like he really wants to know what’s wrong. I know he could make it better, for me at least. But we can’t do that.
“It’s just Chris, he’s—”
“Drunk?” he adds harshly.
“Yeah.”
“He’s been drinking a lot lately,” he says.
I move further into the house, leaning against the wall a short distance from Cole.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. He won’t talk to me about it. Says he’s just having fun.”
“I’d believe that if I didn’t just see what I saw.”
Cole sighs. “Should I be concerned?”
I shake my head and answer honestly. “The drinking is the worst thing. What I saw has nothing to do with him getting into trouble or anything like that. Just him being a dick.” I flinch the moment the word leaves my mouth. “Sorry, I know he’s your son, but…”
I’m grateful when he doesn’t react.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asks.
I huff out a laugh. “Thanks, but the less I have to recall what I saw, the better. I’m gonna take a nap.”
Cole nods, moving out of the way for me to head up the stairs. I lay down in bed and fall right to sleep.