If I Can't Have You (15 page)

Oh, shit. Drake.

The sound of footsteps in the sand pounds into my ears. Or maybe it’s not footsteps; I think it’s the sound of my heart because that’s how loud it’s beating.

It’s not until I think about Drake that I lose the moment of perfection. Not because I want to think about him while I’m kissing his brother, but because of what he’s done me. The way he hurt me. And I’m terrified of letting that happen again.

I pull out of the kiss and a stunned look appears on Elliot’s face. “What’s wrong?” He draws his eyebrows in and a spark of concern flashes in his baby blues.

I don’t feel like explaining everything to him. This triangle between him and his brother is a cluster-fuck and I’m not sure how to explain the way I’m feeling about it without sounding mental.

Elliot is beautiful with electric blue eyes, a bronzed muscular body, and perfect proportional face. Just like Drake. He has a way with words and smiles and somehow manages to make my heart race every time I’m near him. Just like Drake. And he’ll hurt me. Just like Drake.

I’m sure of it.

He’ll use me, abuse me, and toss me from a car window. I’m litter scattered along a winding highway, waiting for a man in an orange jumpsuit to pick me up with a poker and shove me into a black trash bag.

I’ll never let a guy make me feel so useless and insignificant ever again. So when Elliot asks, “What’s wrong, Robin,” again. I ignore him and run away from him as fast as I can.

~21~

True love is when you put someone on a pedestal, and they fall - but you are there to catch them.
 
~Author Unknown~

The party has multiplied in size since Whit and I had first arrived and my eyes sweep over the unfamiliar faces trying to catch sight of Whit. I’m not having good luck.

For a second I think I see her from behind and I walk up to her and yank on her arm. But it’s not her and the girl whose arm I just yanked snarls, “Can I help you?”

“No. I thought you were someone else. Sorry.”

I snake my way through the mass of bodies and sigh in frustration somewhere in the middle of the front yard. There are too many people. Whit has vanished and my situation with the Robertson brothers has just spiraled out of control.

I just kissed Elliot, adding more cluster to the fuck in cluster fuck in currently in and worst of all. I liked it—no—I more than liked it. In fact I’m pretty sure when he slipped his tongue into my mouth my knees wobbled. And what plagued me even more is that the way Elliot kissed me back gave me the impression that he wants much more from me. More than I’m willing to give. And that not only shocks me, but it terrifies me at the same time.

I’m shocked because even though Whit said he liked me and he’d drop little hints here and there, with longing gazes, and random encounters it still hadn’t clicked inside of me until now. And I’m terrified because I’d once been fooled by a beautiful guy and I don’t trust myself enough to not be fooled twice.

I give up on pushing my way through bodies to find Whit and try a different approach. Climbing the porch steps, I slide against the cast iron railings bordering in and hoist myself on top of it. With my acquired twelve and half inches added to my height I hang on to one of the circular columns of the house and squint out into the yard.

Finally, I spot Whit, standing on the far left corner of the yard talking to some tall, muscular guy with black hair. Releasing my hold on the column I wave my hands in the air and call her name. Music bumps from the stereo in the house and the porch is vibrating. “Whit!” She doesn’t hear me. On top of the music the loud chatter from all the people is making it impossible for me to even hear myself. “Whit!”

I continue to call her name a few more times when suddenly, she glances in my direction. She hunches over slightly, squints, then turns to the guy she was chatting with and holds up a finger in a “wait a minute” gesture. She closes the distance between us and I wave my hands over head harder. But the arch on my foot is damp with moisture and I slip falling backwards from the railing. Except I don’t hit the ground. I find the courage inside of me to open my eyes and see who caught me before I fell.

Elliot.

“You always just pop up out nowhere don’t you?” I groan as he helps me to my feet.

“A simple thank you would be nice,” he harrumphs as he folds his arms across his chest. He sounds irritated. He’s probably upset that I ditched him earlier when we were on the beach. “It’s a good thing that I do pop up out of nowhere,” he tells me. “Because if I didn’t you might be lying on the porch with a concussion or broken bone.”

“Well, then,” I say with a smug grin. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Five minutes later I’m still standing on the porch next to Elliot waiting for Whit. And neither one of us says a word to each other. The silence between us is deafening and completely blocks out the ruckus going on all around us. Well, at least for me it does.

During the five minute time span I find myself looking at Elliot. I mean really looking and I notice little things about him that I never noticed before. Features and quirks that make him seem less and less like his brother. For one, I can tell something is bothering him by the way his eyebrows are furrowed together and the slump in his shoulders. Two, he’s got his long, muscular arm wrapped around my shoulder like he wants to protect me from the world. He tightens his grip too, pulling me closer to his chest. Drake never did that. Drake never made me feel protected.

Drake pushes his way through the crowd on the porch and rests his eyes on the way his brother is holding me. Anger flashes in his eyes and there’s a territorial glimmer there too? “What did you do?” he growls at Elliot.

Territorial? Drake told me he didn’t like me like that so why do I feel like that isn’t the case?

“Do?” Elliot scoffs. “I’m sorry, bro, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Drake laughs and the laugh isn’t a normal jovial laugh. It’s a laugh that’s laced with a bit of insanity. Maybe Drake has lost a few of his marbles, if not all of them. “Oh, I think you do bro.” I’m taken by surprise next when Drake extends his arms, palms up and shoves Elliot. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Elliot removes his arm from my shoulder and slides me to the side away from their scuffle that I know is going to going to escalate to the next level any second. Panicked I scan the porch for Whit and she’s on the opposite end shrugging and trying to squeeze through the crowd, but appears that everyone at this party wants to witness a brawl because they’ve all stopped what they’re doing and all eyes are on me Elliot and Drake.

And the only thing I can think about is how I need to get out of here and fast.

All I’ve ever wanted is to feel like I mean something. Like I matter. I also wanted to feel like I’m not being torn. Or feel like Drake is tugging on my right arm, Elliot on my left. Each of them is pulling me in different directions and in seconds one of my limbs is going to snap off. I glance at Elliot, then Drake.

Which way do I go? To the right or to the left? Which one do I choose?

Right now, I’m not sure that I want either one.

Drake cut out my heart, kept it safe for years, then returned to me sliced and diced like minced ham. And even though he hurt me, every time I look at him I can’t help but feel the want for him. The burning desire that ignites inside of me and licks my organs every time he’s near.

And Elliot…

He gives mind-altering kisses, seems to care about my feelings, and assures me he’s nothing like his brother. That he’d never hurt me the way Drake has.

Is it all an act? Or will he hurt me in the end, too?

The possibility of him hurting me is a risk I’m not willing to take.

“You know how I feel!” Drake shrieks as he shoves Elliot a second time.

“I know how you think your ass is made of gold and anybody and everybody should kiss it!” Elliot shoves him back. “And I know how you’ve hurt her! Just like you hurt Sydney!”

Drake’s mouth hangs open and rage burns in his eyes. “You don’t know anything about Sydney!”

A malicious smirk crawls across Elliot’s lips. “I know you cheated on her. But I bet you left that part out.” Elliot’s eyes flash over to mine. “Didn’t he, Robin?”

Before I have a chance to react Drake lunges for Elliot and tackles him and the clash of their bodies against the wooden porch rings out in a loud thud. Then there are several guys pushing through the crowd, making their way toward Drake and Elliot.

A hand clamps down on my arm and I’m being pulled backward away from the chaos and I smack into several bodies along the way.

I can’t take my eyes off Elliot as he and Drake are pulled a part. He stands slowly, adjusts his jaw and scowls at Drake who is thrashing beneath a heavy-set guy’s tree trunk arms.

This is all a little crazy. And un-nerving. And horrifying yet completely amazing. I’ve never had anyone fight over me. Well, I take that back. Whit got in a fight with Daria Jarvis is the fourth grade because she called me a dork. That was during my awkward stage where I wore huge tortoise shell glasses that were like mini saucers and a palette expander. Eek! I shudder when I think of that old yearbook picture.

Not one guy has ever gotten into a fight over me. Now two did and to make things ever more complicated I’m not even really sure why. I mean I know Elliot sort of has a thing for me. But Drake? Really? He flat out told me to my face that he didn’t like me that way. So what’s with all the jealousy?

“What the hell was that?” Whit spats out as we stalk toward the car.

“Honestly, I don’t have a clue,” I tell her. That’s the honest-to-God truth. In a way I’m just as baffled by the Robertson brother’s battle royale as she is.

“Well,” she begins, “I’m going to go ahead and assume that it had something to do with you.” She shoots me an accusing glance.

“I just don’t get it, Whit. Drake told me he didn’t like me like that. Then he starts a fight with Elliot and I think it’s because Elliot kissed me.” Or maybe there’s more to it that I don’t know.

“Wait a second.” Whit stops dead in her tracks and grabs me by the arm. “You kissed Elliot? Where? And when were you going to fill me in on this information?”

“I swear I was going to tell you as soon as I came back from the beach.” I think. At the time I wasn’t interested in spilling the deets involving my mind-numbing kiss. The only thing I could think of was getting as far away from Elliot as quickly as I could.

Seriously that kiss scared me. It made me tingle, made my head spin, my heart race and it was screwing with my emotions big time. On top of the kiss, and the fight…

Yeah, I’m still not thinking clearly.

At the car, Whit climbs into the passenger seat and as I open my door I hear my name. “Robin! Robin, wait!” Peering over my shoulder I see Drake running toward me and a nausea feeling slaps against the walls of my stomach. I don’t feel like talking to him. Too much has happened and He’s broken my trust. I get into the driver’s side and start the car. Drake comes to a halt at my window and places his palms on the glass. “Robin, please. I know I don’t deserve your time, but just hear me out.” His voice is muffled, hidden behind a thin pane of glass.

He’s right he doesn’t deserve my time. “Drake, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Robin, please,” he begs and motions for me to roll down the window. Part of me wants to hear his explanation, but there’s a bigger part of me that’s screaming you idiot, he’s hurt you enough! Why torture yourself more?

So I ignore him, give him one, last agonizing look, and speed down the road, trying to get over the fact that he’s running, chasing after the car still screaming my name.

~22~

Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of trouble, attempts what is above its strength, pleads no excuse of impossibility; for it thinks all things lawful for itself, and all things possible. ~Author Unknown~

When we get back to the house I try my best to push what just happened at the party into a dark corner of my brain, but I’m just not able to do it. My heart is still racing from witnessing the fight and questions pound through my brain as I try to make sense of it all.

On top of that, after Whit and I get out of the car I see Sadie again. And she’s still crying. I give Whit and look telling her that we should go talk to Sadie and she give me a look back that says it’s all me and she doesn’t want any part of it. A second later she dashes into the house.

Thanks a lot, Whit.

I’m not good with girl problems period. And now thanks to two extremely hot brothers I have enough of them to deal with on my own. And even though Sadie and I aren’t friends anymore, my heart breaks for her as I listen to the sound of her tortured howling.

“Sadie?” I approach her slowly and for a second she scowls at me, but the scowl fades quickly and is replaced by a look of agonizing pain.

Sadie sucks back her tears and holds her head high and says, “What?”

“Do you need someone to talk to?”

Sadie lowers her head and looks away. “No.”