5 Ways to Ruin Casey Brandt

f o u r t e e n

♡ BRIAR ♡

Three days later the pit of dread in my stomach hasn't subsided. Yet, today is Saint Jane's annual Hemmings Gala, so I'm shoving that dread down.

This year the gala is thrown in honor of the late Mrs. Hemmings, a woman who dedicated her life to raising money for various charities, and passed due to a rough bout of breast cancer.

Despite both the fact that Casey's father sent a car service to his apartment, and, that I argued against him redirecting the driver to my place, my "date" insisted on picking me up. Now I open my door to reveal the blond boy dressed to the nines, fitted in a pressed expensive suit.

I hate to admit—even to myself—that he looks good. Great, even. Maybe it's because he was born into the Brandt family—where I'm sure dressing up was a very common occurrence—or because he wears a suit like it's supposed to be worn—confidently sophisticated. Either way, I'm finding it hard to tear my gaze away.

He looks about as starstruck as I feel. His mouth drops open when he sees me. "You look amazing."

I shift uncomfortably, regretting my choice of color. Black was one of his suggestions. He probably thinks I wanted to choose it. He wouldn't dream that I'd go against his request and exhaust every other option. I roll my eyes.

"Sorry," he continues with a smirk. "I should have said you look sexy. Hot. Flaming, actually—."

"Yeah, yeah," I mumble. "That's the last compliment you give me tonight."

My eyes drop from his tamed mess of blond waves to his perfectly straight tie. He always looks so put together. In all honesty, I don't think I've seen him in anything other than a button-down and pants. Even if he's in class at eight in the morning or annoying me in the library late at night. So, I find it completely jarring that his outfit has caught me this off guard. I clear my throat.

He asks, "Is that your daily request?"

"No," I reply. "I'll come up with something better."

"Oh, I'm sure," he mocks. Then he waves a hand up and down the length of his torso. "What do you think?"

"Not half bad," I manage to reply while tearing my eyes off his broad shoulders.

Casey grins widely. First at me, and then over my shoulder when he registers my roommate sitting on the couch.

"You must be Demi," he says, breezing past without an invitation inside. He shakes her hand, which brings a bright smile to her face. "It is an absolute pleasure to officially meet you."

She practically lights up as she says, "Pleasure's all mine, couch boy."

"Ouch," he grimaces. "Love that I already have a nickname."

"Could be worse," I say from my spot in the open doorway. I'm itching to leave and get this over with. "If it were up to me it would be."

"I don't doubt it, Doc," he's grinning, like I'm entertaining him. Again. To Demi he says, "Next time we go to one of these stuffy things, I'll extend the invite."

She just smiles at him. Her eyes meet mine over his shoulder. "I like him."

He walks back over, looking triumphant, and guides me out the door, even as I complain about not having everything in hand. I reach out and grab my purse and the jacket sitting beneath it. Then, after saying goodbye to my roommate, he shuts my apartment door.

"I don't have my wallet. Or my keys—"

"You don't need a wallet when you're with me," he says simply. His hand is still pressing into my back. Heat is radiating off his palm. "And Demi can let you in. Or, if you're feeling lucky, you can come home with me."

"In your dreams."

"How'd you know?"

He holds up his hand, flashing me my keys. I grab them. Then I shove him off of me and beat him to the car door, managing to open it for myself despite his protests. He slides in after me with a scowl that instantly melts when his gaze travels down the length of me. He's smart enough not to compliment me again. Or say anything about my choice of color. The driver nods to Casey in the rearview and then we're off.

I'm immediately starstruck upon arrival at the gala, which is stunning, to say the least. It's held in the ballroom of the Hemmings Hotel—which, had it not been professionally decorated, would still be fairly impressive. The intricate chandelier in the middle of the room, gleaming high as it spills light from the ceiling, is the real attention grabber. Still, my eyes fall on the tables and chairs clad in white drapery and catch on the mingling people with fancy clothes clinging to their bodies.

This is...

"Terrible, isn't it?" Casey leans down to say beside my ear. I shake my head. He places two hands on my shoulders to push me in the direction of the circulating trays of tiny food. "But this makes it better."

Once we're stuffed with tiny appetizers neither of us knows the names of, Casey swipes us each a glass of champagne and we stand at the round bar table. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intimidated. Most of the people here are where I want to be. Career-wise, anyway. This is an entire room full of shiny people and things. Successful people. Food I can't name.

I didn't realize my anxiety was showing until Casey places a hand on my lower back.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he says before tilting his champagne into his mouth. "Don't let them intimidate you, Briar. You'll be one of them one day."

I don't get a chance to reply, as a guy who looks nearly identical to Casey makes his way over. I'm grateful for the save. I'm not sure what to say. He sounds so genuine. He really, truly, believes in me. And he doesn't even know me.

Must be the guilt. Or, the fact that he's an idiot.

"Casey," the guy greets. He looks just as good in his own suit.

Casey says back, "Jake."

The awkward tension between them is almost palpable. I feel like I could reach out and grab it. Yet with the way they're trying not to look at each other? I'm sure it'd burn my hands.

Jake turns to look at me instead. His lips sport an easy grin similar to the one Casey wears more often than not. It's not exact, though, and almost appears out of place. Both of the brothers seem to be missing something.

"Forgive me." He extends a hand for me to shake. "I'm Jake Brandt. You must be Casey's girlfriend."

"Yes," the word tumbles out before I can stop it. It snuck past my lips as I fumbled to accept his outstretched hand, betrayed me as I worked through the anxiety just being at the event gave me.

Now it hangs there, waiting.

Until Casey wraps an arm around my waist and tucks me into his side. When I glance up at him, he's smiling. A real one. Brighter than the one Jake gave me a second ago.

To his brother, he says, "Yes. This is Briar. My girlfriend."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

☺ A/N ☻

annnnnd it's happened. the fake dating has begun!

apologies again for not updating, i had some serious writers block on top of a busy life! hopefully i can get back to a consistent schedule:)

💌
xoxo, Jill