CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

HOLLY

 

“Holly!”

My eyelids struggled to flicker open at the sound of Liz’s voice bellowing through the house, followed by the giddy banter that could only come from Anna. I groaned as an ache came from somewhere deep inside my skull, leaving me disoriented to the point of not knowing where I was. I mean, the cat was there, coiled between my legs as usual, and I recognized the feeling of my lumpy bed beneath me, and there was certainly no mistaking the sound of Liz’s currently overpowering voice; the sound ricocheted through my head like a bullet in a room made of plexiglass.

But none of that accounted for the man snoring softly above my ear with a pool of what I assumed to be my dried drool collected in the middle of his t-shirt. His arm was wrapped comfortably around my shoulders while his head rested against the top of mine, laying there as though this were the most natural position for us to find ourselves in.

What the hell did I do last night? Did I have sex? Was it good?

The wave of nausea rolled over me like a bulldozer as I brought a hand up to cover my eyes, shielding them from the sunlight that streamed through the open blinds of my room.

“Oh, my God,” I groaned with a mouth full of cotton. My voice didn’t sound like it belonged to me; it was husky and hushed without even trying.

“Holly! Are you in here?” Liz knocked on the door to my room, sending my head into a fit of pain.

The man beneath me awoke with a start at the sound of Liz’s voice and pounding.

“Holy shit,” he moaned, speaking with the voice of Brandon and in that instant, the fragmented memories of events from the night before came back to me with a groan and a smile. “I stayed here last night,” he mumbled, reminding himself of where he was.

Clearly, he was as disoriented as I was.

But he bounced back quickly, and his hand found my hair and stroked absentmindedly as he nuzzled his cheek into the top of my head. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” I croaked, wrapping my arm around his waist, vaguely aware of how unusually comfortable it was to wake up with him. My nostrils opened to the sour smell of vomit. “Ugh, did I puke last night?”

That brought a rumble of a laugh against my ear. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so. A few times.” He teased the ends of the ponytail I could only assume looked like a Brillo pad. “You owe me a new shirt, by the way.”

I pulled away, covering my face with my hands. “Ugh, I’m sorry.” I peeked at him through my fingers to find him smiling with a heavier shade of stubble peppering his jawline. “You took care of me,” I stated, dropping my hands to my lap, squinting in the light.

“You really didn’t leave me with much choice,” he laughed, bringing a hand up to tuck hair behind my ear. “It was either that or leave you alone, and I couldn’t live with myself if you had gotten hurt or …” His voice trailed off as Liz knocked on the door again.

“Holly, are you alive?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I’m miraculously still a member of the living,” I called to her through the door, wincing at the volume of my own voice.

The door flew open. “Are you oka—oh, God, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had, uh—” Liz stood in the doorway, stammering at the sight of Brandon. Her eyes dropped to the floor, unable to look at him as though he were lying there unclothed.

“You remember Brandon.” I shielded the blushing of my cheeks with my hands.

Brandon lifted a hand with a polite smile in some attempt to hide his own embarrassment. “Hey Liz.”

“Oh, right. Guy from the bookstore. Hi.” Liz waved with an awkward smile that unsuccessfully disguised her excitement, finally looking at him but for only a moment, and then turned her attention back at me. “Um, Holly, do you have a minute?”

Reluctantly I slid my feet off the bed. “I’ll be right back,” I said to him, in mild disbelief that I was leaving him lying on my little bed as I walked into the hall.

Anna played in the living room, the clattering of her toys against the floor crashing like thunder in my head, and I reacted by pressing my palms against my temples. Liz’s expression had changed from one of awkward discomfort to one of confused astonishment as she leaned in close and began whispering with excitement.

“Um, okay, two questions.” I nodded my reply, wincing as the world spun. “First, why is that ridiculously hot guy in your bed? And second, does Ben know about that?”

Oh God. Ben.

“Ben knows nothing,” I said, massaging in little circles against my temples, praying for the strength to not throw up again. “I think I’ll call him today to … to end things.”

Liz nodded, not seeming all that surprised by the news. “Oookay, that’s my second question. What’s up with the guy in your bed?” I told her my side of the story, what I could remember of it, and she flashed me a look of skepticism, cocking an eyebrow. “So, you’re telling me this guy stayed over all night with you drunk and throwing up, and he didn’t once try to make a move? He just took care of you?”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah.” I wrapped my arms around my stomach, nauseated and not from the hangover. I dropped my voice a little lower and leaned closer to her. “Who does that?”

Her mouth stretched into a wide grin and shrugged. “Someone who really cares about you, I think.”

I entered the room again and smiled at Brandon, who had preoccupied himself with petting Camille and flipping the pages of a romance novel I hadn’t yet read. He looked up from the paperback, spotting my sister and I standing in the doorway.

“Are you ladies done whispering about me?” he asked with a knowing simper. Liz flashed me a sideways glance, and he sniffed a laugh. “If you want to talk about someone, don’t do it right outside the door.”

I walked into the room, sitting down next to him with the sensation that the world was falling around me. My hands grabbed at my head, and I felt the gentle touch of his hand against my arm, pulling me down to lay against his hard, sturdy body. I found a comfortable place in the crook of his arm, resting my head on his shoulder as my eyes closed. There wasn’t any more spinning or mind-splintering headache; just the stability and ease of being with him.

Now this… This is right. He’s always been right.

I had forgotten Liz was still standing in the doorway. “Um, okay. I, uh … I’m just going to take Anna out to, um, run some errands,” she said before closing the door behind her.

I knew she was making herself scarce after witnessing whatever she thought she was seeing, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t grateful as I listened for the sound of the front door.

“Are you enjoying your book?” I said with a smile, listening as the pages turned.

“Mm,” he mumbled before clearing his throat. “Oh, yeah, it’s great. You wanna know what’s happening?”

“Sure,” I grinned, snuggling into his shoulder. “But can you talk quietly? My head is fucking killing me.”

“Oh, right,” he said, bringing his voice down to a gruff whisper, causing the hairs on my arms to stand on end. His arm wrapped tighter around my shoulders. “Okay, so right now, this guy Raoul is meeting with his housemaid Angeline in the water closet. He’s apparently very wealthy and she’s been trying to seduce him for a long time, because she wants to marry rich, but she never thought she’d fall in love with him. So, they’re talking about what it is that’s happening between them, when he forcefully kisses her full on the mouth, running his tongue along her full bottom lip, and ... Jesus.”

“Did you open right to this part?” I laughed, and I pretended to not notice the way he readjusted himself.

“Oh, of course. I think most of these have convenient breaks in the pages at the good parts. Unless … you put some extra creases in the spine …” His voice was teasing, but his hand continued a gentle stroking of my arm that did nothing but soothe me into a drowsy comfort.

“It does get very lonely here all by myself,” I half-joked.

“Well, hey, if you want really good book sex, you should check out some fantasy books. You know, if you’re into elves and orcs.” I heard the book close and drop back on my nightstand. His other arm crept around me into a full hug,

“Hot. You’ll have to recommend some to me.” I sighed, knowing I was well on my way to drifting back into sleep and not sure I wanted to fight it from happening.

The stubble on Brandon’s cheek rubbed against my hair as he got himself comfortable. “I could definitely do that,” he said drowsily, “but first, I think maybe a nap is in order.”

“We just woke up, though,” I protested without making any effort to show I cared.

My hand smoothed over his t-shirt, finding a place on the side of his chest. My fingers stroked lazily, opening and closing against the fabric and the contours of the muscles beneath it. Without putting any thought behind my actions, that hand slid up and over his collarbone, over the side of his neck, and up into the thickness of his hair. My hand slid between the strands, separating them with my intrusion. I tangled my fingers in it as I gently massaged his scalp with my fingertips, rubbing in a way to soothe myself without any conscious attempt to be at all sensual. 

I felt him move against the top of my head, and without a single thought to prevent me from doing otherwise, I tilted my chin up in hopes that my lips would somehow make their way to him. With my fingers still manipulating his hair, my nose nudged against his and our lips grazed; not kissing, but just … there, daring the other to make the move.

“Holly.” His breath was hot against my mouth, and the sound of my name passing through his lips was enough to make my toes curl. I heard him swallow hard before he spoke again in a voice that suggested he was just as tormented as me. “Call Ben.”

I pulled my hand from his hair, laying it back down on his chest, and my head moved back to his shoulder. My eyes opened to see him looking down at me, the clear blue irises emphasized by the still-painful rays of sun streaming through the window blinds.

“I don’t want to,” I stated in a whine, all of a sudden wishing Mom could be there to call him for me.

“I know it sucks,” Brandon sympathized, “but you’re doing it. It’s the right thing to do.”

I groaned, crawling off the bed. I walked to the dresser to find a shirt he might fit into. “Do you have any objections to this?” I asked, holding up an old band t-shirt.

He grinned. “I’ll never say no to the Foo Fighters.” I tossed the shirt over to his open hands.

“Remind me why it’s the right thing to do,” I whined, clutching my stomach.

Brandon laid the shirt out in front of him and without looking up at me, he said, “Because you’re keeping yourself from being happy.” And whichever way I interpreted the statement, I knew he was right.

“You want me to make you some coffee?” I asked, obviously stalling.

“Oh no, I’ll get it,” he insisted with a knowing smirk, as he sat up straight to pull the dirty t-shirt over his head, “and you can call Ben.”

I didn’t intend to let my eyes linger, but I found it impossible not to stare at his tattooed flexing muscles. Men looking like that belonged in the pages of magazines or on TV, and not on my puny little twin-sized bed after spending the night holding my hair back.

What the hell is he doing with me?

Brandon looked up to catch my gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched. “What?”

I shook my head, diverting my eyes to the TV on the dresser. “N-nothing,” I stammered, overcome by a rush between my legs.

“Oh, come on. Now you’re just watching me in the reflection of the TV,” he stated with a chuckle before standing from the bed, elongating his torso and giving me a good look at his toned stomach before turning to showcase the mural that encompassed his back, leaving me breathless.

He was teasing me, I acknowledged, as he purposely flexed the muscles along his arms and down his spine before pulling the shirt down, and I couldn’t say I minded all that much.

With it resting comfortably snug over the contours of his arms and chest, he straightened the plaid flannel of his pants before glancing in the floor-length mirror hanging next to the door and ran his fingers through the disarray of his hair. He glanced over at me with an effortless sexiness that sent a wave of heat over my body.

“Do I look like we had sex last night?”

If my mouth hadn’t been dry before, it was then and my jaw dropped open at the thought of sleeping with him and forgetting about it. “We, um … What?”

Brandon shook his head and chuckled. “Holly, I’m kidding.”

“We didn’t have sex?” I confirmed, simultaneously disappointed and relieved. I’d want to remember if I had seen him naked.

He shook his head with a little crooked smile. “Being puked on and sleeping better than I have in years was the extent to our intimacy last night.” I breathed a sigh of relief as I sat on the edge of the bed.

“Now, where do you keep your coffee?” I gave him instructions, navigating him through the kitchen, and he stopped me when I told him Liz owned a Keurig. “Say no more,” he said, bending to kiss me on the forehead. “I’m married to my Keurig. I know my way around one better than I know my way around a woman’s body.”

“I’m not sure that’s something I’d brag about.”

His lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. “Yeah, maybe not.”

With that, he headed out of my room with the purpose of retrieving coffee, while I crawled back up to my pillows, burying my nose in the one that had supported Brandon through the night. Tom Ford’s Tobacco Vanille floated through my senses as I closed my eyes, protecting myself from the pain of my hangover that had since dulled with the thrill of seeing him half-naked. I listened as he opened cabinet doors, placed a pair of mugs down on the countertop, and got the Keurig fired up while mumbling his way through the process, saying things I couldn’t hear, but he made me smile nonetheless.

Camille nuzzled against my hand, coaxing me to give her a good scratch behind the ears while I contemplated what was unfolding. It had only been a matter of time before I was buckling under my feelings for him, but whether he allowed himself to succumb to the same fate was a whole other story. It was ridiculous and wonderful, I thought with a smile, and I grabbed my cell phone and found Ben’s number to let him down easy.

“Hey Holly,” he said in a somber voice, immediately setting the tone for the talk he seemed to already predict. “Happy New Year.”

“Yeah, you too. How was your chili?”

“Um, it was good. The rice was a little overdone, but you know … It was okay.” He paused, a gust of breath hitting the phone’s receiver. “I ended up falling asleep before midnight. There just wasn’t a point to staying awake.”

“Yeah, I didn’t watch the ball either. I, uh, had a lot to drink last night.” I tried to remember just how much, but the exact figures were escaping me and I figured it was better to just be grateful I didn’t suffer from alcohol poisoning.

“So, uh, my friend slept over last night,” I said abruptly. Why I thought this was the best way to lead into the conversation, I have no idea.

“Oh … Cool,” Ben said with the slightest bit of suspicion.

I stood up from the bed and paced to the dresser and back again. “A guy friend,” I said in a quiet voice, hardly believing it myself.

There was a heavy awkward silence before Ben finally said, “I see.”

“Nothing happened,” I blurted out, “but I don’t think I would have stopped it if it had. I know that sounds terrible, but I, um …”

To my surprise, Ben laughed. Not a little bitter chuckle or a sarcastic snicker, but a real knee-slapping belly laugh. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my expression perfectly matching my thoughts.

What the fuck?

“Oh my God,” he finally breathed, attempting to catch his breath between giggle fits. “Holly, I’ve been thinking about breaking up with you for a couple weeks now.”

“But the necklace …” I thought about the sparkling little garnet sitting in a box on my dresser. “And … last night …”

Ben sighed. “I know. I just thought you deserved something nice, and just because I don’t want to be with you doesn’t mean I don’t like you. I know I should have ended things sooner, but I guess I felt bad ditching you after everything you’ve been through. That’s why I invited you over last night. I thought … I thought you wouldn’t want to be single on New Years’ Eve.”

Despite the sting of knowing he was with me only out of pity, a sigh of relief passed through my lips, my shoulders instantly feeling lighter at the sensation of being free. “Are you serious? I’ve been ready to break up for … a while,” I said, not wanting to give him the exact answer, because telling him that I wasn’t feeling him the first night we slept together seemed cruel.

“I have feelings for someone else,” he stated without warning, and I felt lighter still. “Nothing has happened while we’ve been together, I wouldn’t do that, but I’ve been ignoring my feelings for a while, and—yeah, I think it’s time.”

I smiled at that, sticking my head out the door of my room to see Brandon in the kitchen, poking through the refrigerator. “I know the feeling.”

Ben let out a light and airy laugh. “Holy crap, I’m so relieved—but hey, what we had was okay. It was fun. I think I needed it to jump back into the whole relationship thing.”

“Yeah, me too,” I sighed with a smile, sitting back on my bed. “Well, good luck with her. I hope everything works out for you.”

“You too, Holly.”

 The heavy footsteps came down the hall just as I was hanging up the phone.

“So, you find yourself single once again,” Brandon mused, handing me a mug before taking a long, thoughtful sip from his own.

I nodded my confirmation before taking a long, slow sip of the steaming hot black coffee. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know you’re single,” he said with a lopsided smile. I took another sip and grimaced at the bitter taste. “I actually have no idea how you take your coffee,” he mentioned apologetically. “You’re always drinking that damn leaf water.”

I laughed. “Black is fine.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t look fine but thanks for saying so.” He reached his fingers out to run them over Camille’s back, and she immediately arched in appreciation at his touch. His breathtakingly blue eyes looked into mine, sending an icy chill down my spine as they seemed to beg me with a sadness I couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Spend the day with me, Holly.”

“What do you want to do?” I asked, never once considering no as my answer.

“What should have happened months ago.”

 

***

 

A grocery store.

That’s what he had in mind.

I mean, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when I had finished my coffee, chasing it down with the appropriate amount of Advil, and Brandon instructed me to get dressed. When I asked what I should wear, because I hadn’t the slightest clue what the dress code might’ve been wherever we were going, he looked at me as though I had just sprouted four additional heads.

“Wear whatever the hell you want,” he said with a laugh before heading off into the kitchen to make himself another cup of coffee. 

With determination to prove to him that I owned something other than yoga pants and sweatshirts, I dug my way through drawers of clothes that hadn’t been touched in six months at the least and prayed to every power I could think of that, after my shower, I could still squeeze my ass into the leggings and sweater I had chosen.

I brushed my teeth (twice), coated my lashes with too-old mascara, managed a quick sweep of black eyeliner, slapped on a bit of lipstick, and dusted my cheeks with a little blush. I even raked a brush through my hair a few times, apologizing to the knots that once had big dreams of becoming dreadlocks.

When I felt I had sufficiently cleaned myself up enough to make a lasting impression, I zipped an old pair of boots over my calves, a bit startled that they didn’t fit as well as they once did. I walked down the hall to find Brandon lying comfortably on the couch with his head and feet resting on opposite armrests, his thumbs tapping wildly across the screen of his phone.

He’s huge.

The thought popped into my head, stating the fact as though I hadn’t been previously aware of it.

“How tall are you?” I asked, startling him from his texting.

“Six foot four,” he replied with a warm chuckle, turning his head slightly before looking back at the screen.

He was wearing the Foo Fighters t-shirt I had given him, and his pants had miraculously changed from his pajamas to a pair of jeans that had been worn almost completely through to the knees. I thought about asking if he were a wizard or just anticipated spending the night, but I didn’t have to.

“I had them in my car from an overnight business trip.” He stood, slipping the phone into his pocket before taking a moment to observe my thrown together ensemble. “You’re not wearing your uniform.”

My eyes rolled playfully. “I do own something other than yoga pants and sweatshirts, you know. Remember the dress?”

“I do, and I remember it fondly, but I had the illusion going in my mind that your wardrobe consisted of too casual and too formal with not much in between.” He reached over to grab his leather jacket from the arm of a nearby armchair. His eyes never left me as his arms pushed into the sleeves. “But you look very nice.”

A little too nice for the grocery store, I soon found out, stepping out of his car and staring up at the Stop & Shop sign. “This is what you had in mind for today? Grocery shopping?”

Sliding his sunglasses on and stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets, he rounded the car to stand beside me and extended his elbow for me to take. “Well, a few months ago you told me that you used to cook dinner when you had your own place, and if I recall correctly, you also mentioned it was one of your favorite things to do and that you miss it.” I hooked my arm through his and we walked toward the store as he continued talking. “So, I thought I’d put you to work on your day off and ask you to cook me dinner, because I can’t remember the last time I ate a home-cooked meal on a day that wasn’t Thanksgiving or Christmas.”

Stepping into the store from the cold, I hugged his arm to me, touched by his thoughtful and very likely romantic gesture. “Where am I going to cook, though? Liz and Anna will be back at the house, and that’s fine by me, but—”

Brandon reached for a hand basket. “Actually, I know of a kitchen where you will have the freedom to do whatever you want. Just get everything you need, and leave that part to me.”