The Other Guys

Chapter 2

“There you are,” he murmurs in my ear, kissing the tender spot on my neck before gently setting me down on the ground. When I turn around to face him, his amber eyes are smiling down at me and I almost forget I’m supposed to be mad at him for bailing now that he’s here, which leads me to my next question-

“What are you doing here?” I suddenly ask, remembering that he’s blown me off for Emily and I step out of his arms because our close proximity is not making it any easier for me to think straight since I’m too busy fighting the urge to jump his bones and trembling down to my toes.

Surprise passes over his face before Brady actually answers and reaches out for me. “Didn’t you get my message?” he wonders and I belatedly realize he’s talking about the text he sent me that I never got around to reading because of everything that went down with CeCe, but Brady goes on talking without waiting for me to reply. “We decided to come after all,” he says in a way of explanation, shrugging.

“We?” I echo, blinking up at him confusedly, wondering if I’ve heard him right.

“Yes, we,” he repeats, uncertainty lining his voice and not realizing how many things are wrong with the picture as he steps aside and there she is, Emily, standing right behind us.

My heart immediately catapults into my feet and I swallow my pride and the bitter taste of disappointment mixed with rage.

“Hey… Emily,” I eventually manage to get out, fake-smiling at the blonde that comes over to me and doesn’t even bother to return my smile.

“Hi,” she says simply, glancing away from me and looking around, watching all the people around us dance, or laugh, or make out, or drink while we’re the only ones who are too sober to fit in.

As Brady touches her elbow and whispers something in her ear that I can’t hear over the noise, I get so mad that I can barely see anything because I feel like there’s smoke coming out of my ears.

“You know what?” I blurt out, catching their attention and they both stop whispering to each other long enough to acknowledge me. “I’m thirsty. I’m going to get a drink. Does anybody else want a drink? No. Okay, I’ll see you in a bit,” I ramble, talking a mile a minute, all the while determined to keep the smile on my face, even if it kills me. I spin around and go back to the kitchen where the booze is, not giving Brady the time to react as he watches me walk away.

I heave out a sigh when I realize he hasn’t followed me, but then I get so angry that he’d have the nerve to bring her here, I’m almost shaking with rage.

No, I don’t just want a drink. I need one if I’m to survive that night without actually killing somebody.

The jealousy is going to destroy me one day, I know, but I can’t help feeling like I’m fighting a losing battle. I can’t help feeling like even though Brady keeps saying he loves me, his actions prove me otherwise. And it’s a guy’s actions that speak volumes, not his pretty words. It’s like it’s only a matter of time before Brady realizes he cares for Emily more deeply than he thinks and it’s just maddening attraction (and that will also pass) that he feels for me, not love. It’s common to mistake lust for love, isn’t it?

So, I sit around and wait for him to either see the truth that he’s in love with Emily or… to fall for me, his girlfriend, but I feel like I’m praying for the impossible to happen.

I’m making myself a drink, mixing vodka with rum and cranberry juice when Brady eventually finds me.

“So, what just happened? Did I do something wrong?” he asks curiously, blinking with concern as he cuts straight to it. He leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest, threading the water carefully and smartly keeping his distance.