Beautiful and Broken (2 page)

Hmm. Cool.
 

The music is upbeat but a few couples dance slow, like they’ve blocked out the rest of the world. I feel as if I’ve been kicked in the gut. A week ago, I was like them, and then my world came crashing down.

Megan lays a hand on my shoulder and smiles. “You good?”

I nod and continue to push through the crowd.
 

Plush sofas and chairs litter the space around the dance floor and most of them are occupied. Three bars line each of the walls and I head for the closest one.
 

Amy waves and smiles to practically everyone, and they all return the gestures. She stops for some and they hug or kiss each other on the cheek. For others, she keeps going.
 

“It’s like she’s famous,” Megan yells over the booming music, and I strain to hear her.

“Tell me about it!” I scan the place. “Meg, want to grab that table and I’ll get us some drinks?”

“I’m on it.”
 

“Get me a drink too,” Amy says, raising her hand up to get my attention.

“For sure.” The lineup at the bar is spectacular. There are at least four people in front of me and double that at my sides. At some point, a guy grabs my ass, but I can’t tell who did it when I spin around so I fume and glare at everyone instead. My guard is up and I’ve only just got here. When I get to the bar, a guy in a dark suit winks at me and raises his glass, right before his gaze drops to my chest.
 

Sigh.
 

“What are you drinking?” His full lips curl into a grin.
 

“That’s okay. I got it.”

“Come on. Let me buy you a drink. Just one.” He waggles his eyebrows.
 

I want to roll my eyes at him but I resist—only just. “I just got out of a relationship.”
 

“I’m just looking to buy you a drink. Maybe…take you home?”

Ugh. I ignore him and buy my own. Each minute that passes, I feel more and more uncomfortable. While I’m at the bar, I take it upon myself to get good and tipsy and order four shots of tequila. If I’m going to stay here, I need to be drunk, otherwise I’m going to run for the bathroom and start crying.
 

I down the shots and return to my friends with martinis. They’re sitting at a table with three men. One, I recognize from Amy’s firm; his name is Charlie. Amy introduced us before at an event she dragged me to a few months back. I’d asked my fiancé to come with us but he’d refused, saying he didn’t want to spend his free time with people he didn’t care for—he meant Amy. They’d never got along and I could never understand why. So Charlie kept me company for most of the night while Amy handled business. I like Charlie, and though he and Amy hang out sometimes, she keeps him at an arm’s length, like she’s done with every man since I’ve known her.
 

I wave to Charlie and say hey. The other two men are tall, muscular and mean-looking, and completely foreign to me. I peg them for athletes but I couldn’t say which sport. Football, maybe? Hockey. The one closest to me has a scar through his left eyebrow. His eyes are very black, almost onyx, and his hair is just as dark. Tattoos reach from the hem of his short sleeves to his wrists. Tribal art. The other guy is leaner, but also tattooed and has blond hair and ink-blue eyes.
 

“Molly! What happened to you?” Amy calls out. I can barely hear her over the music. I swear the music got louder.

“Sorry. Huge lineup.” And…I drank at the bar. But they don’t need to know how much I’ve already consumed.
 

“Molly, you know Charlie. And this is Ben and Sawyer. They’re Charlie’s clients."
 

I smile and nod to each of them.
 

The one called Sawyer—the guy with the dark eyes and hair—studies me as I sit down. His gaze feels uncomfortable on my skin. What is he looking at? I run my hands over my ponytail and avert my eyes. I doubt I look like the girls he’s used to hanging around. Hell, I wasn’t good enough for my own boyfriend, but do I really look that bad? I try not to notice his eyes on me when I all I really want is to tell him it’s rude to stare.
 

“How do you know Amy?” he asks, shifting in his seat so he’s turned in toward me.

“Friends since kindergarten.” I put the olive between my teeth and pull it off the toothpick. I force a smile while I chew.
 

“That’s a long time.” He gazes at my mouth, and I quickly cover it, wiping it with the back of my hand, figuring I have something on my face.
 

“Yeah, it is.” I adjust the collar of my sweater, feeling suddenly warm and tingly. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or my nerves. This guy is kind of intimidating and not at all like the people I usually surround myself with.

An awkward silence passes between us as I tap my fingernails on the arm of the leather sofa. We have nothing to say to each other, and we probably have even less in common. As the minutes tick by, I’m starting to feel drunk. My face is so flushed right now, sweat beads on my forehead and my whole body feels weak, like every muscle is on fire and begging for rest. I finish off my martini and slap it on the glass table in front of us.
 

A leggy blonde walks by soon after and winks at Sawyer. He follows after her. Guys are such pigs. So easily led by their dicks. Maybe I can’t even fault Jason for what he did when there’s girls like this chick just begging to be mounted. I shake my head, telling myself to stop it or I’ll cry in front of everyone in the bar.
 

Megan slides over. Amy is laughing with the other two guys but I can’t hear what they’re saying.

“You okay?” Megan asks.

“Yeah. Great.”

“Liar.”

“I’m a little tipsy. I think I should go. I’m just not much fun right now.”

“Not a chance. We came to have some fun, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.” She hops up and with a wide smile, she outstretches her hand for me to take. I shake my head and she tries to yank me up, but I pull back. After a minor tug of war, I finally relent and we inch our way through the crowd. Several arms from the surrounding dancers hit me, and a woman with long, golden hair flips it, catching me in the face. A single strand sticks to my lip and I pluck it away, tasting her hairspray. Megan sways to the music, bobbing up and down and I’m just trailing behind her, wondering how long I need to stay before they’ll let me leave. When we get to the middle of the floor, I sway to the music, not really feeling it, my arms hanging and swinging by my sides…and that’s when I see her.
 

Mia. My sister.
 

She’s with a couple of her friends. They’re laughing and talking, using lots of hand gestures. Seeing her infuriates me. Look how
happy
she looks. Her life goes on while mine is a wreck. Her smile drops when she sees me stalking toward her. She pushes her friends aside and hurries forward, trying to get to me before I can embarrass her.

“YOU!” I yell.
 

“I know you’re angry, Molly, but let’s not do this here, okay? I’ve been calling and calling you, trying to explain what happened.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is it inconvenient for me to yell at you for screwing my fiancé here at this bar? Should I spare YOU the embarrassment?”

“Molly, I’m so sorry. You know I am.”

“He was the only guy that ever preferred me to you, and you couldn’t stand it. You had to take him from me.”

“That’s not true. Please let me explain. Just come outside with me, I’ll tell you everything...”

She reaches for me and I throw my hands up.
 

“Don’t you touch me. You want to tell me something? Tell me now. Right here.” I scream at her so she can hear me over the music, and my voice cracks and my throat becomes hoarse. People are staring. I can feel their eyes on my skin and I don’t care. My sister’s cheeks are red. Good.
 

She tucks blonde strands behind her ears and takes a breath. “He was having second thoughts, Moll.”
 

“Liar! You took him from me.”

“He wanted to be taken. He told me he'd had a crush on me for years and I tried to lend him a shoulder, to help him work through it so he could still marry you, but then he kissed me and I…was surprised. I kissed him back before I even realized I was doing it.”

“I hate you. I hate you,” I cry.
 

“It was a stupid mistake. I got caught up in the moment.”

“Don’t ever talk to me again. You’re NOT my sister.”

I feel a hand on my shoulder.
 

“Molly, come on. Let’s go,” Megan says.

“Gladly.”
 

Mia stares as I turn to walk away. I can’t even stand to look at her. My own sister betrayed me in the worst way possible. I never thought her capable of something quite so despicable but clearly, she’s capable of anything. I’ll never forgive her for as long as I live.
 

I head back to the bar and steal a shot of whiskey from a tray on the way over. It burns my throat and warms my stomach. I puff hot air out through pursed lips. “Two shots of tequila,” I tell the bartender.
 

“Somebody’s thirsty,” Sawyer says with a smirk.
 

I shoot the tequilas, one after another, slamming each glass down on the bar. Then I turn my head to stare at Sawyer. I want to tell him off, tell him to leave me the hell alone and go find another blonde, but for some reason he seems interested in me and with all the liquor in my stomach, I’m game. For some reason I need to do this, if only to prove to myself that I’m someone a guy could want, desire even, and not just someone you settle for. Plus he looks pretty fuckable right now…
 

I pull him away from the bar, not caring if he wants my company or not. He doesn’t resist. The music switches, something up-tempo, and I hop up and down, nodding and flipping my hair around. I lose myself in the music, forgetting about everyone and everything. When the music slows, Sawyer pulls me close. He’s either attracted to me—'cause I can feel it on my leg—or he just can’t keep it down. His chest is hard, and he’s big and strong and tall and handsome. He’s probably a pig, but then…I don’t care right now. Amy was right. I need a hook up, someone to get my mind off Jason…and Mia.
 

“Come with me.” His warm breath tickles my ear, and it radiates down my neck and body as his hands graze the sides of my breasts, then my waist, before finally curling around my ass.
 

Mia watches me like a hawk from the edge of the dance floor, her arms folded across her chest. She shakes her head at me, frowning like she’s some moral princess who can stand there and judge me.
 

“I’m all yours,” I tell him, leaning in close to whisper back in his ear.
 

His eyes turn dark and he pulls me tight against him. His presses his lips onto mine and kisses me with so much force, I swear he’s bruised my lips. It’s awkward, but I go with it. His lips are both soft and hard. His tongue flicks inside my mouth, tasting mine. He tastes minty. Okay. I can work with this. Not the best kiss in the world, but he sure is nice to look at. And hey, we’re both pretty messed up right now. I run my hands through his tousled hair and it’s slick. He’s sweaty. I’m sweaty. He pulls me in even closer. I swear his dick is longer than my forearm. I gasp at the outline of it beneath his jeans, earning me a sly smirk from Sawyer. Now, I’ve only ever seen or experienced one penis in my whole life, so I have to admit I’m curious right now. And my panties are sufficiently wet.
 

Huh
. Well, okay then.
 

“I want you,” he whispers. “Now.”

He leads me from the bar after I wave to Megan. My stomach rolls as I realize what I’m about to do, but the alcohol kicks in and says
whatever,
and means it. I’ve never done anything like this before and I know I won’t ever again, but right now, it doesn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. In fact it might just be the best thing I’ve ever agreed to.
 

Maybe.
 

Two

EVERYTHING IS A blur. He’s inside of me, his face hovering over mine. We’re in a bed and the lights are low. I can make out his face and his eyes are closed. For a moment, I imagine Jason. His hand glides down my side and caresses my ass before gliding lower, hitching my leg around his waist. His touch is soft and gentle. He rocks on top of me, making quiet sighs and groans. It feels good, and my vagina is throbbing—no, aching. I want him deeper so I tilt my hips up, and he drives further inside of me, but when I open my eyes it’s still a stranger I see. It isn’t Jason. And I want it to be. So much so that the alcohol can’t dull the empty feeling in my heart and my stomach.
 

Tears slide down my cheeks and I bite my lip to keep from whimpering.
 

His eyes open and he slows, then stops. A flash of realization overcomes him and he reaches up to touch my cheek. “Am I hurting you?”

I shake my head at first because I can’t talk.
 

“Are you sure?”

He attempts to pull out of me, but I grab his hips to stop him. “No. Please don’t stop.”

“I…what’s wrong?” He cups my chin and forces me to look at him. “Tell me.”
 

“I’m just messed up. I’ve never been with anyone but my fiancé and…he just broke my heart.” I sniff through the tears.
 

 
His voice is quiet, soothing. “I…don’t know what to say. Should we stop?”

“No. I need this. I need to feel something other than this crushing feeling in my chest. Please don’t stop.”

He hesitates. His forehead creases, but whatever answer he’s looking for, he must find, because he continues pushing into me, this time slower and deeper. I clutch at the sheets beneath me. But he never closes his eyes as my tears continue to fall. Not once.
 

I feel the build up inside me, that tugging, throbbing sensation in my core that spreads down deep in my pelvis and makes me tingle. It’s glorious and I wait for it, focusing on that and only that. Anything to keep my thoughts off of him. With each thrust he takes, I gasp and moan and dig my nails into his shoulders. His skin is slick and so are my hands.