With You (NOW PUBLISHED)

chapter five

Overall, I think it was a pretty great turnout last night." Wes follows me into my office. I throw down my keys and the stack of papers he so graciously shoved at me when I first walked in. Fuck, he's annoying today. I just arrived, and ever since then, it's been a never-ending strand of opinions from him.

I drop my eyes down to my desk. His trail of thoughts finally comes to an end as he collapses into one of the chairs in front of it and says, "She's coming here tonight so I guess we'll see."

"Who is?"

"Who? The new girl I was just telling you about! Man, you never listen." He fumbles with a pen on my desk. "Becks . . . something, I think. She's pretty hot. Great rack."

At the sound of the name, old memories I've worked so hard to bury flood my mind, and an image of another girl—a short, blond in white—resurfaces. The thin-ass top she wore and barely-there skirt showed her womanly features in a way that affected me more than I'd like to admit. It was like no time had passed; everything I felt for her before was back.

I cut my eyes to Wes and watch the confusion build behind his eyes. Jesus, what does he want . . . approval?

"Well, good luck with that." I feign interest at the idea of Becks and him "talking." If only so he'll hurry the hell up and leave.

But I can't hide my smile.

Becks doesn't talk. She eats guys alive. I know from experience, watching her and Mason together. That girl had him so wrapped; he couldn't see that she was just leading him on.

To distract myself, I begin sifting mindlessly through the stack of mail currently weighing down my desk. I expect him to leave, but instead, he shoots out of his seat.

"Wait. You know her?" The excitement in his voice annoys me. Damn it. So much for hurrying this conversation along. Now I'm going to have to give him something, or he'll just keep pestering me.

I sigh and take a seat. "She is . . . was, one of the girls who ran around in my group," I eventually relent. "A freshman, my senior year. Her best friend was my best friend's younger sister."

I pause when another memory resurfaces. The quick flash of Mason's image passes over my mind, and of a young Brielle beside him.

"Oh shit." Wes smiles and nods his head. Seeming to be content enough for now to move on. "Well, I'm just going to see how it goes. I really wanted to talk to her friend, but she had some asshole with her who was being a serious cock block."

I laugh, picking at the frayed edges of a notebook. "Luca." I shake my head. The irony not lost on me that

for the first time, ever, I'm grateful for Luca's, annoyingly accurate, obsession with Brielle. Then I remember the way he slid his hand around her waist, and I'm over it. I take a deep breath and try to relax my hand—the one currently choking a section of Target ads.

"What?"

"Not what, who. The asshole," I tell him. "His name is Luca."

"Huh. Well, either way, I told Becks to bring her tonight. She's a ten, man. I'd fu—"

"Don't . . . finish that sentence," I threaten him. The thought of him in bed with her makes my blood boil. That annoying desire to punch something pricks at my nerves, like an itch between the shoulder blades you just can't scratch. I take a deep breath. "Brielle is off-limits," I repeat the words her brother said to me more times than I can remember.

"Oh, I see." Wes grins. He grabs the paperweight off my desk, tosses it back and forth a few times, then stops. "You like her."

The fuck?

"No. I definitely do not," I say, my answer quick, too quick. And unfortunately, for me, Wes isn't as dumb as he looks. He instantly picks up on it.

"What the hell happened to Katrina, man? I saw you giving her 'the look' just last night," he chokes. The rise of his voice has my pulse racing, and I shoot him a warning glance. The fuck is this? Therapy hour? "Damn. Okay. Point made.

She's yours," he yields. "Have them both."

"Brielle is far from mine, and Katrina and I. . ." Fuck. Why the hell are we even talking about this? "Don't you have inventory to do?" I ask, wadding up a section of ads to toss at him. "I mean, what the hell am I paying you for?"

"Because the girls need something to look at when they come to this club of yours?" He laughs, smoothing his hands down the front of his shirt. "And because you're shit with people."

I shake my head, my daily limit of stupidity getting dangerously high.

Wes stands with his back is to me, as he slowly creepsto the door. He turns around at the last second to add, "You sure you don't like her, man? Because I could get behind a threesome with—"

"Do you want me to kick your ass? Get the fuck out of my office, Wes!" I yell. He's clearly joking, trying to provoke me. That asshole. He always likes to piss me off. Little does he know that I've kicked other guys' asses just for thinking as much. Even being a best friend has its limits. Something I learned a long time ago.

I sit back down and pick up the stack of new hire documents he left on my desk. They're all the same. Nice hair. Big boobs. I toss them down. Instead, I close my eyes and let my mind's eye finds its way back to her—to Brielle—of her standing there, staring back at me, while everyone else had turned away. She was so pissed that I'd sent Devon home, but what she didn't know was that I did it for her own good.

I exhale a deep breath.

Fucking Wes! Why did I let him talk me into opening a club here on campus anyway? It's too close to home. To her and to our past. I knew I was bound to run into her, but I definitely didn't expect for her to show up so soon, especially not with him. Watching Luca lavish her with his hands took everything I had in me not to reach over and strangle him.

He's always wanted her, and now that he has her, I have what I need to move on. Closure. Reassurance that she's okay and that she hasn't been miserable since I left. Not that it would affect me either way if she was, I quickly remind myself.

Brielle Sutton was always too good to ever be with a guy like me. If I wasn't good enough for her then, I sure as hell am not good enough for her now. Not after everything I've done.

In that moment, I stand and grab my keys. There's noway I can fucking work now. I'm too riled up. If I don't leave, I'm only going to continue to think about it until, eventually, I'll tear this club apart. I pull out my phone and quickly dial Katrina, telling her to hurry and get dressed. Like it or not, I needed to feel something. Anything. I just need a release.