Always Have: A Bad Boy Romance(7)

“What did he say?”

Selene pulls the blanket tighter around herself. “He tried to deny it, but not very hard. At first he played it off like it was meant for a colleague, but I could tell he was lying. I asked to see his phone and he got really angry. He yelled at me, Ky—saying I was paranoid, and if I didn’t trust him, maybe we shouldn’t be together. I said he needed to prove I could trust him by showing me his phone. He tried to put his phone away, but I grabbed it out of his hand. For a second I thought he was going to take it back, but he just slumped down in a chair and put his face in his hands.”

“Caught red-f*cking-handed,” I say.

“Yep,” she says. “He had phone numbers, and photos … and the texts. Fuck, Ky, he was dirty texting them on days when he and I were together.”

“Oh my god,” I say. “What did you do?”

“I broke his phone,” she says. I see the slightest hint of a smile.

“Good girl,” I say. “You should have broken his face, too.”

I wrap my arms around her shoulders and draw her to me. We snuggle in on the couch, and Selene sniffs a few more times.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “So what are we doing? Are we badmouthing him?”

“Definitely badmouthing.”

“Fuck him, then,” I say. “Dirty bastard. He should f*cking die. I hope one of those bitches gives him a disease.”

Selene laughs. We sit for a few minutes in silence.

“What do you need, babe?” I ask. “You hungry?”

“No,” she says.

“Vodka?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Good girl.” I squeeze her, and she moves so I can get up.

We hit the vodka, hard. It’s a weeknight, and I’m going to pay dearly for this tomorrow. But it’s my duty. A girl can’t shirk her duty, can she?

After who knows how many drinks, Selene and I are still sitting on the sectional—sitting being a relative term. Selene is spread out along one side, dressed only in a t-shirt and underwear. I have no idea when she took off her pants. I look down and realize I took my skirt off at some point, and I’m wearing one of Braxton’s old shirts. Something about that strikes me as hilarious.

“Selene, when did I change clothes?” I ask. It’s hard to get the words out, because I’m laughing.

“You wanted out of your work clothes,” she says. I can tell by her sleepy eyes that she’s pretty tossed, but she’s not slurring her words. “I grabbed you a shirt.”

I smell something and look around, sniffing. “What do I smell?”

“Vodka?” Selene asks.

“No, it’s something else,” I say. I grab the collar of the shirt and bring it up to my face. Oh my god. It’s Braxton. “This smells like him.”

“Gross.”

“No, it smells so good,” I say. I take another deep breath with the shirt over my nose.

“God, Ky, my brother does not smell good.”

There’s a hitch in her voice that cuts through my buzz. I smooth down the shirt.

“Well, my love life is shit,” Selene says. I’m glad she’s changing the subject. “How’s yours? What happened with what’s his name? The one who was out of town.”

I sigh. “He blew me off again.”

“No.”

“Yeah,” I say. “We went out one more time, that weekend after Valentine’s. It was fun, but it didn’t go anywhere, you know? So after that, nothing. He said he’d text me, but he didn’t. I texted him a week later to see what was up, and nothing. Then a few days later, he has some story about a disaster at work. He’s sorry, can we hang out, blah, blah, blah. I don’t know what his game is, but I’m not playing it. I told him to kiss off.”

“No kidding,” Selene says. “Screw that. What’s wrong with all these f*cking men?”

“What men?”

We both turn at the sound of Braxton’s voice. I didn’t hear him come in.

“Asshole men,” Selene says.

His eyes move around, like he’s taking in the scene. His gaze comes to rest on me and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. I look down and realize that not only am I wearing his shirt, I’m also not wearing any pants. I scramble to get Selene’s blanket over my lap.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Nathan had a bunch of trip whores,” I say.

The anger that crosses Braxton’s face sends a little jolt of fear running through me. “He what?”

Selene explains what happened with Nathan. Braxton opens and closes his fists as he listens.

“But, it’s fine, Braxton,” Selene says, after she finishes her story. “Don’t do anything. Please.”

“Fuck,” Braxton says, looking away. His thick chest rises and falls rapidly. “Fuck, I want to kill that guy.”

“You don’t need to kill anyone,” Selene says. “Just come have a drink with us.”

He rubs his stubbly chin, and I can see the cords in his neck straining.

“Come on, Brax, please?” Selene says. “I broke his phone and called him lots of dirty names.”

“And think of it this way,” I say. “Now he has to suffer, knowing he’ll have to live without Selene for the rest of his worthless life.”