Too Sweet (Hayes Brothers #3)(18)
“Yeah, I figured that much,” he mumbles, gently stroking my back. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
Three more sniffs and I tuck the bottle back in my bag.
The first person I see when Cody hauls me to my feet is Blair—Brandon’s self-proclaimed girlfriend. She must’ve seen him invade my personal space and her jealousy is on display, foretelling trouble. She silently simmers thirty feet away, glaring at me like she imagines ripping the hairs from my skull one by one.
Cody drapes his arm over my shoulders, but the protective gesture doesn’t faze Blair. She stilettoes toward us, wearing a fake smile with a matching hard edge in her light brown eyes.
“You have a death wish, bitch?” She kicks the drama up a notch, hurling the contents of her takeaway cup in my face. “Whoops,” she chirps, beaming when the caramel latte drips from my eyelashes, down my chin, and the front of my knitted dress. “I must’ve tripped.”
“What the fuck!” Cody booms, taking a threatening step forward. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”
The only upside is that the coffee wasn’t hot enough to burn. I’m on the verge of projectile-vomiting again when I hear Blair’s friends laughing, and in the distance, Brandon throws his head back, cackling like a demented hyena.
I’ve lived through fifteen years of this. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but the shame doesn’t lessen with time. It’s even more humiliating the older I am because this is juvenile. It shouldn’t be happening in college. I really hoped it wouldn’t. We’re adults for crying out loud!
Too bad not everyone got the memo.
“Get the fuck out of here, Blair, or I swear I’ll—”
“What?” She licks her lips, taking a second to look him over, her gaze lingering on his broad, muscular chest. “You’re all talk,” she adds, then her ponytail whips Cody’s face as she walks away with a triumphant smile, her head high, eyes on the green Mercedes parked where it shouldn’t.
Cars have no access to the courtyard, but just as Blair didn’t get the adult memo, Nico didn’t get the not-allowed memo.
I doubt he understands the meaning of the phrase.
He stands by his sporty car with Conor and Colt, Wayfarers pushed up the bridge of his nose.
I’m back in the hot seat. Ruled by him. Consumed by the pull whizzing between us. Mint won’t help me this time. It was bad enough being laughed at by half the students, but knowing Nico witnessed the adolescent drama is too much for my spineless self.
A tight pinch of pain squeezes my stomach when I turn on my heel, keeping a steady pace up the concrete steps.
Once inside, I sprint to the nearest restroom and slam the door with a bang. I burst into the first cubicle, hugging the toilet at the last moment.
Today’s breakfast, lunch, and two cups of coffee make a reappearance. My eyes water. Bitter bile burns my throat. Cold sweat coats my back as I heave, gasp, and shake, ejecting wave after wave of partly digested food.
This is why I always have mouthwash in my bag—to keep the puking incidents to a minimum. They started in middle school when Blair stole my clothes while I showered after gym class, right before lunch break, during which the football team had an emergency meeting ahead of their homecoming game.
Before the teacher came to my rescue, I sat on the floor, my arms and legs covering as much flesh as they could while the boys hollered, throwing cups of cold water at me so I’d flinch and accidentally flash them.
I’ve not taken a shower at school since.
Once my stomach’s empty, I lean on the cubicle door, breathing in through my mouth and out through my nose. I’m not surprised when the door opens again. Heavy footsteps reverberate through the space, the walk easily recognizable.
“You good, Mia?” Cody stops by the cubicle, his shoes peeking under the door.
“Yes. Same old, same old.” I force out a pathetic chuckle, wincing at the vile taste of vomit greasing my tongue.
With the mouthwash still in hand, I gather myself off the ground and leave the stall to rinse my mouth.
“You gonna tell me what Brandon really said?”
“Nothing new.” I spit green liquid in the sink. “He wants me in his bed, same as always.”
“I wish he’d back off,” he sighs, massaging his temples.
“He’s unhappy about missing the parties.”
I pull a toothbrush from my bag and brush my teeth twice before we leave the building. The courtyard cleared during the last ten minutes. It’s just me, the triplets, and Nico left.
He’s still casually leaning against the hood of his car, Wayfarers now resting on the top of his head. He slowly takes me in, bit by bit, the intensity of his gaze heating my cheeks.
I’ve been around him a few times, but I can’t get over his masculine energy: all testosterone, threat, and sex.
“I’ll drop Mia home and meet you at the dealership in an hour,” Cody says, but Nico’s silent, incisive attention remains on me.
“You go,” I say, picking my nails. “I’m going shopping.”
Cody frowns, wrapping an arm around my middle.
I shouldn’t have agreed to be his plus one for the Charity Ball. The triplets and I are like family. We’re physical. We hug. Colt spends most lunch breaks sleeping with his head in my lap, and Conor has me sitting in his when we share a box of ice cream. It’s purely platonic, but Cody... something’s changed lately. He kisses my head, holds my hand, and touches me more than his brothers.