Brie Sheridan has had her heart broken way too many times. Rhett Price is usually the culprit, but, this time, he might be the solution.
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Brooke 'Brie' Sheridan wouldn't necessa...
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RHETT
Every sound in my brain turns into white noise, static fading into silence.
There's no crowd, no heavy bassline thudding in my chest. There's no Cole What's-His-Name. There are no phones pointed at me, ready to capture the exact moment I make one of the biggest mistakes of my life by taking the bait and getting into a fist fight.
There's just peace and quiet, and then the pressure of Brie's lips against mine.
This isn't supposed to be real. Everything about our fake relationship was meant to serve a bigger goal—guarantee we fulfill our goals to secure our careers after graduation—and, even though I've been trying to fix the aspects of us that I fucked up years ago, things weren't meant to take a turn towards this path.
With all her ambivalence regarding public displays of affection, especially after being so stressed out about my hand staying on her thigh for longer than strictly necessary, I expected the actual kissing part to be off limits unless the situation was so dire we'd die unless we kissed.
This isn't one of those situations, but she's right here and she's kissing me, and it's so foreign and familiar at the same time. It's been years since we last did this, but my muscle memory activates, remembering exactly how it feels—it's electric from head to toe, jolting me awake, and it's the only thing that has ever made sense.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, hard, then move to the sides of my neck when I kiss her back, lips parting to swallow the gasp that escapes from her mouth. My palm presses against the curve of her waist to pull her flush against me, eliminating the already minuscule distance between us, and she melts in my arms when my tongue gently brushes against hers. Tentatively at first, then with more fervor once she returns the intensity, and I finally realize what kind of fire she was talking about the other day.
The fire has never left. Even when I thought I had burned out in that aspect, she managed to reignite the flame like she's gasoline and the whole world is highly flammable. I don't think I've ever been this brave and this vulnerable all at once, especially when nothing about this was planned and I need my whole life to be organized to perfection if I don't want to collapse under the heavy weight of my anxieties.
House parties are a quintessential college experience, and everyone I know has hooked up with someone during one of these. A few months ago, I would have selected someone at random, taken them to an empty room, go in and come out and move on with my life. Tonight, the thought never even crossed my mind, not even once.
When I wasn't occupied having a silent mental breakdown about how nothing in my life is going right or as according to plan, I was busy feeling completely intoxicated by Brooke Sheridan. I haven't looked at other girls, like this is a guys-only birthday party (Paige would never be an option for obvious reasons), and Brooke is the only person I can see.
