Exposed: Book One of The Love Seekers Series (13 page)

              “I don’t know.” The tears fell down my face once again.

              “Trust me. This will be good for you, and when you get to the other side, you’ll find the man of your dreams waiting for you…just not Bryan. Anyone but Bryan. You deserve better than a man-whore. I love him to death, but he’s a slut. Great guy, but no. Just say no.” She started to snigger and it grew into a full laugh.

              Unable to resist, I joined her. No, Bryan may be as sweet as molasses, hot as hell, and I my crush may be growing, but he did not hold the title of my Prince Charming.

Chapter 15

Emma

              I had to say, I felt kind of irritated with Bryan. Since Mel left after lunch, I’d sat in my apartment stewing for hours. I tried to come up with good excuses on why he would talk to her, but for every one of them, I conjured two reasons that made him out to be the bad guy.

I tried to write to take my mind off of him and my anger, but I almost killed off the hero of the story. Funny how emotions wreaked havoc on a story sometimes. When that didn’t work, I tried to read, and managed to read the same paragraph at least ten times. Curley was the only distraction that worked. We sat outside while I threw his toy for him to fetch, but that reprieve did not last long. After less than an hour, I walked back into my apartment, flopped down on my couch, and stewed some more.

Vegas rules? Did he need a refresher course on what the term Vegas rules meant? He said he wouldn’t say anything to Mel, and then he went behind my back and asked her about me? I know I hadn’t been 100% forthcoming, but this felt like a stab in the back. Why did everything have to happen when he said it did? After he told me he didn’t expect me to change overnight, he decided a few online conversations should have been enough to completely remake me. It wasn’t.

              I’d bottled things up and kept them inside ever since I was a child. When I was younger, my sister got a lot of extra attention due to a few issues in school, and even though I wanted extra attention, I didn’t say anything, even when I felt left out. But it didn’t stop there. The issues I had with love, with my sister, with school, with friends—I internalized it all and held it all deep within me. Gia managed to get me to open up to her only after we had been friends for over a year, and only initially when she backed me into a corner. After that though, she became my outlet, and I still counted on her.

              Maybe I was overreacting—given my anxiety issues, I probably was—but to me, Vegas rules meant he kept his trap shut. And not only that, but after the breakdown and crying fit while she was here, my embarrassment had skyrocketed. I had to take my aggression out on someone, why not him?

              I wanted to know exactly what he asked. Could it be he wanted to know how to let me down easy because he realized I was beyond help? No, if that were the case, she wouldn’t have told me to let him help me.

              So what then? Did I dare demand answers from him? Order him to tell me exactly what they talked about? Yes, I did.

              Grabbing my laptop from the coffee table, I logged onto FaceSpace faster than ever before, swiftly found his name on my list of friends, and clicked on it. The green dot and mobile icon were both missing, which meant he wasn’t available even though it was a little after 9:00 P.M. my time, but that did not prevent me from sending him a message he would see later. The problem was deciding what I wanted to type.

              My point had to be made without Bryan believing I had a mental breakdown, and yet, my message had to be firm and rip him a new asshole.
Decisions. Decisions.

             
My fingers flew across the keyboard, and before I realized what I typed, I hit enter, and then continued my tirade.

Me:
I had the most interesting conversation with Mel today.

Do you know who and what we talked about? Vegas Rules? Ring a bell?

Do you even know what that phrase means? What the hell did you tell her?

Am I so pathetic that you decided you had to call in reinforcements?

Did you have a good laugh? I hope so because now I know I can’t trust you.

You want me to believe that there is a good guy out there for me, but how am I supposed to believe what you say when you lie like the dog you are?

              At least it wasn’t in all caps like a few of my messages from the past. Part of me wondered what he thought the night I reamed him in all caps. I kind of thought he took me seriously because he backed off slightly and gave me space, almost as if he were talking to a skittish horse. Maybe in a way, I resembled one. Trust, a concept that seemed so easy to most, was difficult for me to master. And the start of my trust issues lay further into the past than my illness.

              Bryan had been right. My self-esteem problems took root way before I got sick, and I had admitted that much to him. But the lack of trust in people, I wasn’t ready to face those things yet. Needless to say, if someone wanted me to trust them, they had to earn it, and I did not make it easy for them.

              I waited with baited breath for my phone to alarm me to the fact Bryan had read and responded to my message. My computer had long ago fallen asleep, yet still I waited. I wanted to know what he had to say. Would he make some sort of pitiful excuse, or would he tell me the truth?

              Lolling from side to side, my head fell backwards as my eyelids dropped lower and lower. My body craved sleep, but I forced myself to remain vigil and awake—kind of. My eyelids slid closed and my head shifted to the side, placing it at a weird angle, and it mattered not. Sleep slowly shut down my brain and told my body to relax and give up its watchfulness.

              Tonight would not be the night I ripped him a new one. I began to push to my feet tiredly, my brain so focused on sleep, I could already envision sinking into my bed…

              A loud chime startled me, making me yelp. I fell backwards onto the couch, my walker crashed to the ground, and I hissed when my elbow caught the arm of the couch.
Shit that hurt!
Why did they call it a funny bone when there was nothing funny about the pain? At least I didn’t fall on the floor or crash into the coffee table. Both of those things could have resulted in worse injuries.

              Damn phone. Damn person who decided to message me at…

              With one eye shut and the other squinted so I could check the time without cursing my double vision, I saw that it was only 10:24 P.M. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the middle of the night, however, I had been half asleep, and having to wake up deserved a little morsel of my irritation.

              Settling my glasses back on my face, I unlocked my phone, peered at the screen, and seeing whose name appeared, my attitude changed instantly. Bryan. A little of my irritation? Try a bucket full of my wrath. Not only had he spilled his guts to Mel—in my head he had fully betrayed me—but he had the audacity to wake me up. Never mind the fact that I was the one who had messaged him first. I didn’t care about those minor details.

              My thumb hovered over his face, and then I smashed it with as much ferocity as I could. It didn’t do anything to him, but it gave me a tad bit of relief. My brown eyes glared back at me in the mirrored edges of my phone, almost scaring me with their intensity. I forced them to focus on the black and white message lighting up the screen, and my brow lifted. Was that how he was going to play it?

Bryan:
I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.

             
Straight denial. I wished my thumb would have smashed his real face and not the one on my phone.

Me:
Really? So, u didn’t talk to Mel last night? U didn’t ask about me or tell her u were talking to me while at the same time talking to her? U didn’t have a discussion about the fact that u and I have been communicating for a while now?

             
If someone walked in on me now, they would’ve probably thought I completely lost my marbles. Deep within me, I knew he didn’t deserve this much anger, and I didn’t know why I lashed out at him so harshly, except embarrassment. I hated knowing that one of my friends had heard that I was so hard up for a date, a complete stranger had to help me find love. And maybe, I wanted to put those walls that I had dropped around him back up. Without those walls, without his betrayal, I was vulnerable and that scared me. No, it terrified me.

Bryan:
Wait. Hold up and rewind.

Me:
Rewind? Y? Is it because u fucked up and want to undo what u did?

              My bitchiness level raised to DEFCON 3. Not as bad as it could be, but far from safe for anyone who stood in my path. He needed to be on alert.

Bryan:
Woah! You need to slow down and stop chomping at the bit to bite my head off.

Me:
I’m not a fucking horse.

             
I refused to admit or think about the fact I had compared myself to one earlier in the evening.

Bryan:
I NEVER SAID YOU WERE!

              Oh look who decided to use all caps. Before I could type anything, he continued without the caps lock on.

             
Bryan:
Yes, I talked to Mel.

             
At least he admitted it. I could tell from the moving dots in the chat window, he was still typing, so I waited to see what he had to say for himself. My teeth bit my lip, digging into the flesh while I sat there impatiently. My fingers tapped out a quick rhythm on the back of my phone as he continued to type. 

Bryan:
I talked to her and asked about you because I wanted to know what your story is. I wanted to understand you a little more. Sometimes we don’t see something in ourselves that others do, and I wanted another opinion from someone who knows you better than I do.

Me:
And?

Bryan:
And that’s it. She asked me if I was interested in you and I told her no. She gave me hell for chatting with you, and that’s it. And she gave me hell because I kept laughing during our conversation and she called me on the carpet for it like she always does.

Nothing is sacred when it comes to that woman.

Me:
Uh huh.

Bryan:
Don’t believe me, ask her.

             
I wanted to hold onto my anger and irritation, but I couldn’t. Reluctantly, I admitted Mel’s side of the story.

Me:
She basically said the exact same thing as u.

Bryan:
See.

Me:
And Vegas rules?

Bryan:
Still intact, honey. I didn’t tell her shit about how much we talk or what we talked about. I asked her about you in a casual conversation.

Slightly calmer, I pulled my computer into my lap so the small chat screen would be easier to see. And a keyboard was so much easier to type on than a touch screen. Plus, I needed a minute after reading his “honey”.

Me:
You could have just asked me.

Bryan:
No can do. I had to get someone else’s opinion.

Me:
And what did she say?

Bryan:
That you’ve been burned in the past and she doesn’t know much about it. I thought she was your close friend.

Me:
She is.

              Mel might have been one of my close friends, but I didn’t share everything about my past with her. Gia had been there since we were younger, ergo, she knew everything. Mel came along later, and by that time, the past remained the past and the door shut tightly.

Bryan:
But?

Me:
But nothing. I trust Mel, and I do confide in her as a good friend.

Bryan:
But?

             
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. My skin started to tingle and sweat with nervous anxiety
.

Me:
The past is the past.

Bryan:
Except when it intrudes on the present and future.

             
Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I tried to calm my churning stomach. Without looking at my hands or the computer, I responded to him.

Me:
Not discussing it with you.

Bryan:
Ever, or just today?

Me:
Probably ever. I’m not sure I trust you that much.

Bryan:
I told you what Mel and I talked about. That was it. Could it be you were looking for me to fuck up?

Me:
No.

Bryan:
That’s a big yes. You answered too quickly. Don’t be in such a rush to blow me off.

             
Taking his advice, I waited exactly three minutes before I responded next, allowing him to stew and me to calm down. My stomach still felt queasy, and I sweated bullets.