I amnotin love with him. I’ve never been in love with anyone. I don’t believe that a love like that can exist. Everyone is out for themselves, and you can’t trust anyone to love you enough to stick around when shit gets tough.
“You’re delusional, and borderline insane,” I hiss, trying not to sound as frazzled as that statement made me feel. “I am using you for a ride home and that’s it. It doesn’t require talking. So just… shut up.”
“You can use me for a ride anytime, baby,” he winks. “Whenever, wherever, and however.”
I scoff, feeling a strange tingle in my core as I let that image fill my head for the briefest of seconds before coming back to reality.
“You are so gross,” I say. “I should have taken the Uber,” I mumble, resting my elbow on the window and leaning my head in my hand. We’re almost home, and then I can get of this car that suddenly feels way too small and get into the shower to wash away the feelings I’m having right now.
When Holland pulls up in front of my campus house, I have a brief feeling of déjà vu as I unbuckle and step out of the car.
Before heading for the door, I turn around to thank him for the ride home, but he’s out and rounding the car to stand in front of me. I stand frozen in place for a moment, letting me alcohol-soaked brain catch up to what’s happening.
“W- what are you doing?” I stumble over my words. I blame it on the alcohol and not the fact that he’s standing so close to me that I can smell the distinct vanilla and sandalwood scent of his cologne.
The tight, dark navy-blue shirt he’s wearing under his coat shows every ridge and bump on his stomach, and his hair is contained by a black beanie. He looks so much more grown up that I have to remember he’s not the same punk kid I grew up with.
His eyes roam over me once before landing on mine. I’m sure I look confused, because I am. Why did he get out of his car? He could have just left, but he’s standing in front of me, looking like a sex god.
Oh god, Lainey. Shut up. That’s your best friend’s brother. No matter how much their mom tried to get us together when we were younger, Ellie would surely have something to say about it.
No matter how much you want to see what he must be packing under those jeans. I’ve seen the man shirtless, and it is a sight to behold. But never down below, and right now, my vagina wants to see.
Shut up, vagina. You don’t get a say. You’re not in charge here.
“Are you okay?” Holland asks, looking slightly concerned. It feels like a bucket of ice water was just poured on me. My eyes narrow and my arms cross over my chest like armor.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask, a bite to my tone. I’m fine. I’m perfect.
I’m not having confusing as fuck feelings about my best friend’s brother, a guy I practically grew up with. I’m not worried about my parents and why I haven’t heard anything from them in weeks. I’m just peachy.
“Well, you were pissed at me, so-” he begins.
“I’m always mad at you,” I interject. Holland rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, okay. Anyway, you seemed pissed off and kind of upset and I just wanted to-”
“I’m fine, Holland. I’m great, honestly,” I say, my voice a pitch higher than normal. I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself.
His brows furrow and he crosses his arms over his chest. Why won’t he just leave?
“Have you heard from your-” I don’t even let him finish that sentence. He knows the answer. It’s the same almost every time someoneasks.
“Thank you for driving me home. I have to go take a shower.”
Turning away from him, I begin to head for the front door, but a hand grabs my wrist, stopping me from moving any further. My head falls back out of annoyance. I don’t want to talk about this, especially not with him.
Holland and Ellie know more about me and my life than anyone, even Gwen. Gwen knows the gist of it, but she didn’t grow up with me.
She didn’t see the nights where I’d curl up in a ball and cry because I hadn’t seen or heard from my parents in weeks. She didn’t see me when I was sick and calling out for my ‘mommy’ because all I wanted was her comfort. Holland and Ellie did. They saw it all.
Their mother was the one that stepped in most of the time. My nanny wasn’t very attentive, especially when I was sick, which left Mrs. Monroe to help, and thankfully she did. I don’t know where I’d be without her.
Letting out an exasperated breath, I turn back to face him. He looks like he wants to say something, but he just looks down and shakes his head.
“Can you let me go? I have things to do,” I tell him. I don’t have anything to do but get away from him and erase all of the emotions I’m feeling right now.
He runs a rough hand through his hair and blows out a breath. If I weren’t so irritated, I’d probably chuckle at the fact that he seems so uncomfortable. Holland doesn’t get uncomfortable often, so this is entertaining to say the least.
