Rogue (Real #4)(61)
“Oh, Mel.” She sighs and sags against me like she can’t take loving this man any more than she already does.
They bring another man up for Riptide, and I swear these opponents get bigger and bigger as the seasons pass by.
“Remy!” I scream again as the men start fighting up on the ring.
Brooke squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back and lift her hand in mine, high in the air as we watch them fight. “Remy! Your wife is hot for you, Remy!” I scream.
Brooke has always been the reserved one of us two, a little shy about speaking out with conviction, but I know that she loves it when I do the screaming here.
“Remington, you’re so f*cking hot!” I scream on her behalf.
And then Brooke stuns me when she leaps up to her feet and cups her mouth so her voice carries farther, and she starts screaming with me, “YOU’RE SO FUCKING HOT, REMY, KILL IT, BABY!”
And he instantly kills it.
The public goes wild as his opponent falls down with a thud, and I stupidly blink at my best friend. “Omigod, so you scream now? And how well trained is Mr. Riptide to immediately please his sweet little wife?”
I’d go on, but Brooke is too busy grinning up at Remy because he’s grinning down at her, all sweaty and lickable, and I fall quiet while something squeezes hard in my heart.
I will never be the first person Brooke turns to now when she wants to cry, or talk something out, or vent, or go out for a run. My best friend is deeply, madly in love with this man who I know would go through hell and back for her—because he already has.
So, in a way, my best friend has a new best friend now. And he’s a husband too, a father to her baby, a lover to her.
But me? My guy likes to f*ck me. He says he’s bad for me, but I sense he needs me. I sense he misses me. Is it my gut talking to me, or my silly hopes? All I know for certain is that I’m falling in love and I’m so far in deep now that the sheer gravity of it all makes it seem impossible to stop myself from continuing deeper and harder into this dark, unknown, scary plunge.
God, I’m so f*cked.
Brooke seems to notice I’ve fallen quiet, and I hadn’t realized she’d been watching me intently.
“Do you want to talk about him?” she asks me softly, surveying me with the keen perception only a best friend could have.
I nod and I have to lean closer to her in order to be heard through the crowd. “When I don’t have to scream over these *s!”
When the fights are over for the night, Pandora and I take a cab to our hotel, which, unfortunately, is not where the Tates are staying—their hotel is much too expensive. Pandora didn’t want to take anyone’s “charity” and I’m a world past broke, so we’re staying at a small three-star hotel a couple of blocks away.
Pandora, however, decides to opt out of visiting Brooke’s suite for the evening.
“Why?” I ask her, nudging her in the back of the cab. “Come on, it’ll be fun. I need to see Racer! Last time I saw him he was growing just a little buzz of hair and he smelled like talc and grinned at me with this one lone dimple that’s going to kill a lot of ladies someday. Come on!”
“Nah, I’m tired. You two should catch up. I’ll order pay per view and wait for you later.”
“You sure you don’t want to come?” The cabdriver seems to be getting impatient, so I open the door and wait for a second longer.
“Yeah I’m sure. You know I’d rather pet a dog than a baby.”
I nod slowly because I think I get it. I get her more than she knows. She thinks because I try to have fun, that I don’t hurt, or want anything, or take anything seriously. I laugh away my hurts, but she uses anger as a barrier. And I know it hurts her too when she sees Brooke sometimes, because Pandora used to be in love.
All I can guess is that she loved him very much. “Pan,” I say softly, “the guy who hurt you so bad . . . he wasn’t the only guy you’ll ever love.”
I don’t even know what else to say because I’m no expert on feeling like this—I can barely stand the way I feel for Greyson and I’m afraid to call it love. I feel even more awkward when we stop at Brooke’s hotel and the cabdriver complains, “Ma’am, you either in or out?” so I quickly step out and shout at her, “I’ll see you later. Watch a comedy!”
She flips me off as the cab takes her away, and I smile and wave. But as I get on the elevator, I just don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore except that a couple of months ago I didn’t know Greyson King. How can I miss him so bad now?
You’re in my veins, you f*ck.
You’re in me one moment, you’re lost the next. You take me, you leave me, and I still wait, trembling for you to come back and do it again.
Ugh. When are you coming back?
Brooke swings the door of her suite open and babbles out, “I want deets and I want them now!” pulling me into the first bedroom, away from the group of guys in the living room.
She sits me down at the edge of a bed and then plants her hands on her hips like some demanding angel-bitch, her eyes gleeful with excitement. “Tell me. Tell me all about him!”
I laugh in excitement but then I groan and jab a finger into her chest. “I’m experiencing some déjà vu, except the poor sucker thinking she’d fallen for a guy who may be wrong for her was you.”