Distraction (Westbrook Series Book 1) (33 page)

I reach up and slip my fingers through his perfectly messy, tousled, damp hair. He pulls me over so he can cradle me in his lap without losing our connection. His hands slip under my pajama tank top, causing me to shiver. His fingers don't waste any time finding my bare chest. He’s just picking up where we had left things earlier.

He suddenly flips me over so I am on my back with him carefully leaning over me. His hands are busy exploring the curves of my chest while he leaves a trail of kisses down my neck. My body feels like an inferno of intense need. The craving for him to be closer becomes so strong, that my mind yet again fades away, completely powerless.

I don't know how to slow things down, but I know that I should. My tank is now hiked up over my right breast. I am not expecting it when his hot, wet lips go there. The contact instantly sends a million prickling sensations rocketing through my body. I keep trying to tell myself to stop, but my body refuses to listen. It is completely lost in the magic of Sam.

He brings his lips back up to meet mine, pressing more of his body weight into mine. His hand is still cupping my breast. I reach my hands under his shirt and dig my fingernails lightly into his back. He moans deeply in between kisses, while his other hand moves down my bare stomach towards my shorts. Just as he inches the tips of his fingers under the elastic waistband, we are startled by the sound of my door being thrust open.

"What
the fuck?
What are you doing with my sister?" Kyle's voice is so loud, it echoes in my ears for what feels like minutes afterwards. Sam quickly rolls off me, while I pull my tank down, and attempt to straighten out my rumpled pajamas.

"You
fucking
bastard
.
Who
do you think you are? That was
you
earlier, wasn't it? In the pool?" Kyle's accusations rip through the air, leaving a bile-like tension that is making me nauseous.

Uh oh. He's mad. He's really, really, really mad.
I know this, not just because our cheeks are a matching shade of crimson. It is because he is outright cussing. Not only that, but he is dropping multiple
F-Bombs
. That definitely means
something
coming from Kyle.

The reason he doesn't cuss isn't because it's vulgar, or because our parents don't approve. Mom and Dad don't, but that isn't the point. He looks at cuss words the same way some people look at the word
love
. He says
,
"You can't just throw it around all the time to everybody you run into, or it loses its meaning." He jokes, "A good cuss word
demands
respect, if it is used properly." He saves them for those very rare occasions when he wants to further emphasize just how angry or upset he is.

In this case, he is expressing his extreme disapproval of one or all of the following things:

A. He is not happy to find his best friend alone with his baby sister in her bedroom.

B. He does not like the way our bodies were positioned on my bed.

C. He does not appreciate the fact that we practically had our tongues shoved down each other's throats.

D. He does not like how Sam's hands were all over my body, especially how they were groping unmentionable areas that my brother would like to pretend I don't have.

I completely get it
. After all, this was never supposed to be how Kyle finds out about us. He probably wants to rip Sam's head off for messing with his little sister. Sam isn't just messing around with me, though. It's more than that, and I wonder if Kyle realizes this.

"Kyle, just calm down. This
isn't
what you think it is," Sam tries to reassure him.

He is cautiously staying on the other side of my bed, which is wise, because Kyle's knuckles are turning white as he pulls them tightly into a fist, over and over again. It looks like he's about ready to start boxing any moment now.

"What the
fuck
is
that
supposed to mean?" Kyle is anything but calm. He has crazy eyes right now. In fact, he looks a little bit like Jack Nicholson from
The Shining
.

"It is
exactly
what it looks like. You are in my little sister's room. I found you
on
my sister, in her
fucking
bed, you
asshole
. That is
not
okay, not in any way, shape, or form. Do you
realize
that my dad would
murder
you if he knew? He would actually
go to jail
because of your
stupid
,
selfish
,
prick
behavior."

Kyle is pacing the room frantically, balling his hands into fists repeatedly. It must be taking everything in him not to deck Sam right now.

"Kyle, just
listen
to me," Sam tries once again reason with him, but Kyle won't let him get a word in edgewise.

"Sixteen years old, Sam. She's
fucking
jailbait,
for
fuck's sake
. Forget about the fact that she's my
goddamned
little sister
, you
perverted piece of shit
!"

"I'll be seventeen next month, Kyle," I remind him sheepishly.

"Stay out of this, Laila," he snaps at me. "Sam should
know
better." Kyle looks at Sam and shakes his head in disgust. His anger seems to be easing up a little, but the disappointment that follows is almost worse.

"Kyle . . ."

"No.
Don't
. You're supposed to be my
best
friend
. I thought you were a part of our family. How could you
do
this?" Kyle looks like he could burst into tears at any minute, which is crazy because he does not cry, either. He didn't even cry at Nana's funeral, even though I know he was just as crazy about her as I was.

Sam drops his head down shamefully and stares at his feet. His chin is pressed against his chest, making him look like a kid that is being scolded by his parents.

"Kyle, cut it
out
. You are being
so
unreasonable," I say, as I reach for Sam's hand. Sam pulls away from me before I can make contact, which makes my stomach drop.

"This is none of your business, Laila. This is between
him
and
me
." Kyle says sternly.

"Um, it kind of
is
my business. I mean, we are in
my
room, and last I checked, those were
my
lips Sam was kissing." Kyle cringes upon hearing me. "If you are going to be pissed at anyone, you should be pissed at
both
of us, not just him. Plus, Sam isn't taking advantage of me. He's my
boyfriend
, Kyle. We're dating." I am trying to explain everything, but I can tell Kyle is not even listening to me. He is way too focused on glaring hatefully at Sam.

I glance at Sam again, but he just shakes his head in defeat. I just want to wrap my arms around him and comfort him, but I don't. That kind of thing might just send Kyle right over the edge.

"Do you even
hear
what I am saying, Kyle? We are
dating
," I repeat louder and with more emphasis. I tap Kyle hard on his shoulder, demanding that he acknowledge me. He shrugs me off like I'm a gnat.

"You have to actually
go
somewhere to be
dating
, Laila. He's in college.
You
are in high school. You are
not
dating." He sighs, and steps toward Sam.

"And
you,
" Kyle says more forcefully while pointing violently at Sam's chest, causing him to stumble backwards. "Are sure as hell
not
dating
my
little sister." Kyle's voice is shaky, yet stern.

I feel guilty because none of this is fair. It's not fair that Kyle had to find out like this. It's not fair that Sam has to take the brunt of the blame. It's not fair to either one of us, to see everything unraveling so quickly.

Sam slumps down onto the edge of my bed, and buries his head in his hands with his elbows on his lap. He runs his hands through his hair a few times.

"Kyle, you
have
to understand. I didn't
plan
for this to happen. It just . . .
happened
. But it isn't
just
a hook-up. I mean I
really
like her." He sighs, as he wipes his sweaty palms on his basketball shorts. "Do you remember how I was trying to tell you about that incredible girl that I met? I was talking about Laila."

"So what you mean to say is that you
fucking
lied to me." The protruding vein on my brother's forehead looks like it is going to burst, as his angry eyes bore into Sam.

"No, not
exactly
. Even though we technically didn't
just
meet like I said we did, it feels like we did because we are now seeing each other in this whole new way." He is still trying his best to reason with Kyle, but it is clear that anything Sam says is going to be about as effective as throwing stones at a brick wall.
No amount of rock throwing is going to break through Kyle's stubborn exterior
.

"This is
not
okay," he repeats to Sam. He lets out another frustrated growl, before pounding his fist right through my wall. He rubs his hand and leaves the room.

"
Holy crap
. What is
wrong
with him? Kyle, get your
ass
back here." I call after him, but Sam pulls my arm back, preventing me from leaving the room.

I survey the damage on the wall. It's bad,
really
bad. I peel away the dangling piece of drywall and chuck it into the trashcan.
How am I supposed to explain the huge hole in my wall to my parents?

I look at Sam, but his head is still buried in his hands. I keep expecting clumps of his hair to come out with his fingers because he is yanking on it so hard.

"Okay, so this is
bad
.
So very bad
, Sam. What are we going to do?" I ask, as I run my fingers along the rough edge of the exposed drywall, half expecting a few hidden splinters to prickle me.

"I have no idea." For the first time I can remember, Sam sounds completely defeated. "I need to go talk to him," he says quietly. He doesn't even look at me on his way out. He just keeps his head down, and quickly slips out of my room.

My stomach is wrenching so badly that I feel like I might lose my dinner. Part of me wants to go with Sam, but I don't. If he really wanted me there with him, he would have said so. Plus, everything I had tried to say before to Kyle only seemed to make matters worse.

Instead, I hide out in my room, staring hopelessly at my damaged wall through an endless stream of tears. When the tears finally dry up, I realize that Sam and Kyle are probably not coming back any time soon. I might as well try and to go to bed.
Maybe, I can close my eyes and wake up to find that all of this was just one big nightmare
.

Even though I am beyond exhausted, I am having trouble falling asleep. I keep hoping that they will come back up to my room to tell me that they worked everything out, and that it's all going to be okay. That never happens, though.

When my door finally does open, and the hall light stabs me in the eye, waking me from my restless, half-slumbered state, I see Avery's small shadow creep into my room. She is trying to sneak in quietly, without waking me.

"I'm awake," I announce to her groggily.

"Oh,
thank God
." She sighs dramatically, while flipping on the switch to my bedside lamp. "I thought I was going to have to wait until tomorrow to find out what is going on."

She plops down on the edge of my bed. I reach up and rub my tired, stinging eyes. When my eyes finally focus, they immediately find the big, gaping hole in my wall, reminding me of my real life crisis. I groan with frustration, and throw my pillow at the wall. I had really hoped what happened earlier was all just a bad dream.

Avery covers her mouth when she sees the hole. "Laila, what happened to your wall?" she asks, before retrieving my pillow, and handing it back to me. I prop myself up onto my elbow and shove the pillow underneath me, as I prepare to rehash my very real nightmare.

"So, um
yeah
. . . Kyle kind of walked in on Sam and me . . . when we were making out."