Love Rewritten Read online

  He doesn’t let me go. He just pulls me further into him until our bodies are practically pressed together.

  “Hey man, it was nothing. We’re just friends,” Brian says, back up on his feet and trying to play peacekeeper.

  “Fuck off,” Brandon snaps at him and I gasp at the look of venom in his eyes. “I saw the way you were checking out my girl. You were practically in her face.”

  Jesus, this is bad. Pushing myself back, I twist my arm to try and get him to release me. His grip is bruising and my hand is starting to throb. “Let go, Brandon. Brian is just my friend and you’re being a real asshole.”

  “Me!” he bellows.

  “Let go of her.” Xander’s fierce command startles Brandon as he comes up next to me, trying to maneuver his body in between mine and Brandon’s. “Now.”

  “Ha, like you’re going to do something about it if I don’t,” Brandon says smugly. “She’s my girlfriend. Not yours. I can touch her whenever the hell I want.”

  “You’re hurting me,” I hiss again, twisting my arm until he finally releases me. I take a step back, rubbing my sore arm and holding it up to my chest. Tears are prickling the back of my eyes, but I don’t want to cry. It will only make things worse.

  Xander and Brandon are having some sort of stare-down before Brandon turns to me.

  “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “No way in hell is she going anywhere with you,” Xander barks, and I’m shocked Aubrey hasn’t gotten in on this action. But I don’t see him anywhere, nor do I see Nina, for that matter. Gavin is standing directly off to Xander’s right and Grace is behind me, her hand on my shoulder in a comforting gesture.

  “Is that right?” Brandon takes a full step in his direction. “You think I don’t know the situation going on here? You think I don’t know just how badly you want her?”

  Xander’s eyes narrow into fiery slits of pure rage as his fists ball up.

  “That’s enough, Brandon. Go home and sleep it off.”

  Brandon’s head whips in my direction and his eyes soften a little. “Jesus, Abby. All I did was push a guy out of the way who was standing way too close you. You’re my girlfriend. Excuse me for being protective over you.”

  “But you didn’t need to push him. You barreled into a situation you knew nothing about and hurt my friend.”

  Brandon sighs, relaxing his stiff posture, but Xander’s is still hard as nails and I catch Gavin trying to draw him back out of the corner of my eye.

  “I’m sorry, okay? I am. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I just didn’t like him that close.” Brandon’s head whips around in search of Brian who looks like he wants to bury himself into a hole. “Sorry man. We cool?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  Brandon takes a very deliberate, yet reluctant step in my direction. “I’m sorry, babe. Are you good?”

  I don’t know. I really don’t. He came in here, shoved Brian to the ground and yelled at him. He hurt my wrist in his death grip and refused to let go. How do I rationalize that? How do I say everything’s fine when I don’t exactly feel like it is?

  I don’t think Brandon would hurt me. He’s never been anything but sweet and gentle with me, but tonight he was a different sort of animal. And sure, he’s drunk. But is that really an excuse?

  No. It’s not.

  And this is not the first time he’s been violent recently. He beat that guy’s ass at his house.

  “Come outside with me,” I say, instead of answering his question.

  “Abby?” Xander growls my name with a cautious note, his eyes pleading with me not to be alone with Brandon.

  “I’ll be right back.” I try to offer him a smile, but it’s small and weak because I’m still reeling from that encounter.

  He doesn’t say anything, and Brandon’s head is bouncing back and forth between the two of us.

  “Is something going on here?” he asks, but again, I’m not answering that.

  I grab onto Brandon’s shirt, giving a good yank so that he’ll follow me. Just before I make it to the door, I hear Aubrey ask, “What did I miss?”

  I’m glad he missed that, otherwise there is no way punches wouldn’t have been thrown. The frozen night air bites into my skin and I’m wishing I hadn’t left my coat inside the bar. And I wish I was wearing something that covered me up more.

  I feel absolutely exposed right now and it’s from more than just the cold.

  “Abby, I’m sorry.” Brandon rubs his hands up and down my arms, trying to bring some warmth back into my body.

  I look up at him, his face shadowed by the streetlight behind him. “I don’t know what the hell just happened back there, but it is not okay. I am not okay. You show up here drunk. You push my friend to the floor. You grip my wrist to the point of actually hurting me. You throw out baseless accusations about everyone wanting me.” I shake my head. “I don’t even know who you are right now.”

  Brandon blanches, looking down at the ground and shifting his weight like a scolded puppy. “I know. I wasn’t going to come tonight. In all honesty, I was a little hurt you didn’t invite me.”

  He’s right. I didn’t. But I didn’t realize we were six years old.

  “So I was home having a few beers with Chris and Jake and they urged me to come and surprise you. I don’t know what happened.” Brandon begins to pace, his hands perched on his hips as he breathes out hard. “I just saw that guy talking to you so close and I . . . snapped, I guess. I didn’t like it. It made me crazy.”

  “Nothing was happening. Brian just does that. It wasn’t sexual. You had no right to do that to him or me, or anyone else. I didn’t invite you because tonight is Xander’s birthday, and the two of you weren’t all that friendly at Tuesday dinner. He doesn’t want me and neither does Brian.”

  Brandon takes a step into me, my neck craning to meet his darkened face. “I’m sorry. Can we move past this and pretend like it never happened?”

  Can we? I don’t know.

  “Go home and call me tomorrow, okay?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t want to leave with you pissed at me.”

  “I need to go back in and you can’t come with me. Aubrey will shit an elephant if you do. Please. Just go, and call me tomorrow.”

  His head lowers to his chest as he bobs it up and down. “I’ll go.” His arms slide from my shoulders to my back and he pulls me into his chest. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I’m really freaking sorry.” Brandon kisses the top of my head and the walks off without another word.

  I’m torn.

  On the one hand, I feel bad for him. On the other, not so much. That was a crazy, caveman, testosterone-fueled thing he did back there. And that is not my style.

  I find my way back into the bar and am immediately accosted by Aubrey, who is flanked by a seething Xander.

  “What the fuck, Abby? Tell me you tossed that piece of shit to the curb,” Aubrey fumes, grabbing my arm and looking me over like he’s expecting to see signs of abuse.

  “Can we just go back in and stop this? I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s your birthday,” I say, looking at Xander.

  “I need to talk to you,” he says with a tone I don’t exactly appreciate. It’s authoritative and a bit belligerent, and it rubs me the wrong way. Like all of this is my fault.

  “I don’t want to rehash it.”

  “Humor me. It’s my birthday.” He tosses his coat over my shoulders, before spinning me around and directing me back to the door.

  “I’m going to stay inside because it’s cold out and I don’t really feel like listening to the two of you fight,” Aubrey says with his hands up, palms facing out as he slowly back away from us.

  “Coward,” I mutter, and both he and Xander laugh, which should set me at ease, but it doesn’t.

  I’m led back out into the frigid night and I wrap Xander’s big, heavy coat around my body. It’s warm, despite the fact that he hasn’t worn it since we got to the bar and it smells so good I want to bury my no
se in the collar and inhale.

  I don’t.

  That would be weird and embarrassing.

  Xander is a pacing a heavy-footed circle and I can’t stop the laugh that flies out of my mouth. “What? You’re laughing at me?” He’s smirking, so I know he’s not all that pissed.

  “I am. Why are you storming around? Out with it, Xander. I’m freezing my boobs off.”

  His eyes dip down to my covered chest before coming back up to my face. “Your boobs?”

  “Amongst other things. What’s up?”

  “Did you break up with him?”

  “No.”

  “No? Why the hell not? He pushed Brian down and then squeezed you. Are you waiting for him to hit you?”

  I sigh. “You’re being overly dramatic. He didn’t mean to hurt me and . . . well, yeah, he meant to push Brian, but I think he feels bad about that. I don’t know. I’ll talk to him tomorrow once he’s sobered up.”

  “Jesus, shit,” Xander snaps, walking up to me and grabbing me by the biceps. “I can’t handle this, Abby. I can’t. I wanted to fucking kill him when he had his hands on you like that. You have no idea the restraint it took.”

  I stare at him with wide, unblinking eyes. I’ve never seen this sort of passion from Xander. Ever. I know some of his history. Why he spends all of his vacations and holidays with our family or Gavin’s. I know some, but definitely not all.

  “He’s not good for you,” he whispers, some of his anger dissipating the longer he stares into me.

  I swallow hard, feeling the heat of his eyes bearing down on me. I want to squirm. I want to look away or move or laugh or do something that will ebb the thick tension. But I can’t do anything other than look at him.

  “He’s not.”

  “It was one time. He didn’t even realize he was hurting me. He wouldn’t do that.” I don’t know why I’m saying this to him. I don’t know why I’m suddenly defending Brandon other than I don’t really know what else to say. All of the real things I want to say, the words that are exploding around my mind like a series of grenades going off, I’m not brave enough to utter.

  “Is he what you want?”

  Xander has asked me this before. Right after I told him that Brandon and I were official.

  “As opposed to what?”

  Xander closes the small distance between us, hovering over me like a dark knight.

  His hands are still firmly affixed to my upper arms as he dips his head closer to mine. Our breaths fog between us, mingling in the cool air. He doesn’t respond. He just stares at me with pleading eyes, begging for something he refuses to ask for.

  “Abby,” he whispers softly, sweetly, like my name evokes something warm from within him. “I want—”

  “Are you two coming back in?” Aubrey’s voice interrupts whatever Xander was about to say and right now, right this very second, I want to kill my brother. Was he about to say the words I’ve wanted to hear for years? Was he about to say that he wants me to end it with Brandon? Was he about to say he wants to go back inside the bar and never speak to me again?

  I have no idea.

  And judging by the way Xander jumps a foot back from me like Aubrey just zapped him with a thousand volts of electricity, I never will.

  “You want what?” I press.

  “I want—”

  “Are you coming?”

  “Yes. We’re coming,” Xander snaps out before his eyes refocus on mine. “I want . . . to do a shot with you for my birthday.”

  Goddammit, Xander!

  I can only sigh, and sag with defeat. We’ve played this game before. We’ve danced to this tune for most of our freshman year and it turned into him hating me for the last two. So I’m done trying to read between the lines that are so tightly pressed together, there’s no room for interpretation.

  I can only take him at face value.

  And while we may have a truce going, I have a sinking suspicion it won’t last much longer.

  CHAPTER 16

  I WAKE UP THE NEXT morning with a headache. Not surprising, considering the amount of shots I did last night. Pulling myself out of bed, I shower before heading to the kitchen. It’s empty. That’s unusual under normal circumstances, but Aubrey’s soft snores from his room tell me that he didn’t set his alarm today.

  Just as I finish setting up the coffee, turning it on to brew, the buzzer for the front door goes off. I jump with a start, before flying to the intercom so it doesn’t wake up the sleeping guys.

  “Who is it?” I ask, my heart hammering away.

  “It’s me. Brandon. Can I come up?”

  He sounds like shit. He sounds scared and remorseful, as he should. I don’t really want him to come up with Xander and Aubrey sleeping a few feet away. Not because I’m afraid he’ll hurt me or anything, but because the guys will not wake up kindly to it.

  But I also can’t leave him standing outside.

  “Sure.” I hit the button, unlocking both doors. And then I go pour myself a cup of the coffee I smell percolating. Something tells me I’m going to need this.

  In truth, I hadn’t thought much about Brandon’s little display since it happened. After we went back inside, Xander and I went straight to the bar and he ordered up tequila. I sort of have a love/hate relationship going with tequila. I like the flavor, and taking the actual shot of it, but it wrecks me every time.

  And Xander knows that.

  Part of me wonders if that’s why he ordered it, because as soon as we were done with one, he ordered up another. We took them silently, our eyes locked on one another the entire time. Xander gives me butterflies with a simple look. I don’t really know how to explain the reasoning behind it other than it’s beyond my control.

  Once we were done, he leaned in and said something that I never thought I’d hear him say.

  I’m still not even sure I heard it correctly.

  He stepped into me, nearly toe to toe and whispered in my ear, “I would give anything to be able to taste the tequila on your tongue.” My face flamed and my breath hitched and I swear my knees almost buckled. But then he killed everything when he followed up that epic line with, “But we both know that will never happen.”

  He walked away from me after that, before I could call out to him. Before I could demand to know why it could never happen.

  Because the simple truth is, I already know why.

  Aubrey.

  It’s really that simple and that complex. Aubrey and Xander are best friends. And Aubrey is my over protective brother who told Xander point blank our freshman year that he needed to stay away from me.

  So nothing ever happened between us. And now? Now we live together. And they’re still best friends. And I’m dating Brandon. And most of the time Xander ignores my existence.

  I need to let go of any hope I’ve had sitting in my gut for the last three years.

  I need to let go of him.

  Despite Brandon’s dramatic display last night, he’s a good boyfriend. So, do I dump his ass after one drunken incident, or do I give him another chance?

  I unlock the door, mug of coffee in my hand, but the moment I see Brandon, I gasp.

  He looks like death warmed up.

  His eyes are puffy and bloodshot and lacking all luster that normally fills those light blue depths. His hair is disheveled, and not in a sexy, I-just-rolled-out-of-bed, way either. It looks like he slept on the street. For that matter, he’s wearing the same clothes he was wearing last night, so maybe he did.

  “Jesus, Brandon.” I can’t even finish that sentence. He walks in and immediately pulls me into his massive chest, nearly spilling my hot coffee everywhere. I have to reach around him to set it on the entry table because he’s not letting me go.

  “I’m so sorry, Abby. Fuck, I’m sorry. I feel like shit. I haven’t slept because I feel so goddamn guilty about last night. I’ve never done anything like that before. Ever. You have to forgive me. You have to give me another chance.”

  He’s holding
me so tightly that I have to turn my face to the side otherwise he’ll inadvertently smother me. Brandon’s large body is trembling like he’s barely holding it together right now.

  Is it wrong that I don’t understand him having this type of a reaction?

  I mean, we’ve only been dating a few weeks and I’d hardly call us serious. I’m at a bit of a loss right now. I know he likes me, but the desperation in his voice and the state of his physical appearance sort of screams more.

  But there is just no way it can be anything more at this point.

  “Come in the kitchen and let me give you a cup of coffee and we’ll talk.” It’s all I can say at the moment, because I’m a little too stunned by this demonstration.

  Brandon takes my hand and I pick up my coffee. We silently walk into the kitchen. I pour Brandon a cup and he sips at it.

  “Thanks,” he says, his eyes searching my face. “Do you hate me?”

  I snort out a laugh at that. When did men become so dramatic?

  “No. Of course I don’t hate you,” I tell him, hopping up on the counter. Brandon moves until he’s positioned in between my legs and even with me boosted up on the counter, he’s still much taller than I am. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m really not happy with you right now.” He nods his head solemnly. “I know you were drunk, but you stormed into a situation that you completely misinterpreted and not only attacked my friend, but squeezed my wrist to the point of hurting me.”

  He blanches, staring down at my wrist, which is fortunately bruise free. “Jesus,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “I really fucked up.”

  “Yeah. You did. Can you promise me nothing like that will ever happen again?”

  He drops his forehead to mine, our eyes locked. “I swear I’ll never do anything to hurt you. And I will never charge into a situation like that again. Do you think you can forgive me?”

  I nod against his head, because I think I can. I believe him when he tells me he’ll never do it again. I can see the sincerity in his eyes. Brandon’s whole face lights up, and he presses his lips to mine.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers against my lips. “So sorry.”