Chapter Three.

Approximately six years ago...

It was one of those balmy California summers where everyone gathered around the beach and their swimming pools to cool off. Donning their cute, s.e.xy sc.r.a.ps of bikinis, they sipped their beverage, laughing and enjoying a lazy, hazy afternoon.

Desperately needing to get away from my problems, I sought out a pool party that was thrown in the Spanish-style mansion of Brody's parents in Montecito.

It was also one of those rare moments where Lindsey wasn't around, and Brody was being chased by the girls from school he flirted back with ceaselessly. Hormones raged and it was a given that, if Carter, Brody, or Cooper chose you to be their "girl," you were the lucky one. They were dubbed the hot, s.e.xy trinity, and every girl I knew wanted them, any one of them. The girls could have the rest because I only wanted one-the one I had been secretly in love with since middle school or maybe even way before that. Who the h.e.l.l knew?

My parents were being their usual rotten selves, and that night, things had somehow escalated to a breaking point. I was an only child, one they had then kept pointing out that I wasn't planned, that they had gotten married because my mother had gotten pregnant, and back in their heyday, it was imperative for a man to marry the girl. Since Mom came from an influential family background, my father had been left no choice in the matter. Shotgun marriage, it sure was.

I wasn't sure what was worse, really: to be born into a family who couldn't care less if I vanished or died somewhere or to be endlessly criticized for not being smart enough, pretty enough to be granted a sprinkle of attention. It seemed the only time they cared was when I got in trouble.

It began when I angrily beat up my cousin Benson, who was two years older than me, with a heavy, silver hairbrush because he wouldn't stop mocking me. Back then, my anger had been channeled into a lot of throwing and destructive things, but it was the first incident that I had hurt someone intentionally. My anger coiled and rolled off me as if I was possessed by it. I couldn't control it; the deep-seated need to keep on going was inevitable. It gnawed at me, blinding me from what I had truly become. So in the shroud of its darkness, I didn't realize what had happened until Benson was shaken to his core, his eyes gla.s.sed with tears as he look at me with that big, painful gaze of his. In it, I found something-he was terrified of me. For the first time, I had found a way to make him halt his demeaning taunts, and I felt empowered by it.

His forehead was cut open, and it drew a deep crimson-colored blood trail, somehow freezing me in amazement at how easily I could actually hurt anyone even at such a young age. Benson's mother, my mother's sister, obviously was hysterical and didn't waste any time before she started lecturing and shrieking at my mother's incompetence, blaming her for my lack of respect and foul att.i.tude.

At first, I was mortified at what I had done, but in the end, I realized that, by doing such awful things, it reflected on her and my father. In some weird way, it got a reaction from her, letting her know I had inflicted hurt the way she and my dad consistently did without remorse.

This was one of the focal points where I became accustomed to the word and lifestyle known as addiction.

"Hey there, Amberini."

Upon hearing his warm, deep, honeyed voice, the war-the pain and all the painful things that were compressed in my chest-immediately vanished.

"Hey," I meekly replied, barely giving him a glance.

Brody ... He was here, and all would be fine.

Composing myself, I tried to look less eager than most women around there, those who didn't even dare mask their intentions with him.

Amberini-it was a nickname he used to tease me when no one was around. I wasn't sure why, but he never called me that when any of our friends were in hearing distance. I was simply too happy that he had a name for me. It felt like it was our secret, so I didn't dare ask what was with the name.

He came up close, standing next to me, and I felt his hand touch the side of my hip before he leaned close to my ear. "Everything okay? You look glum." His voice was teasing, but there was evident concern in there, as well.

"Just stuff..." Showing vulnerability wasn't what I was about, yet hearing him ask if I was okay turned me into a puddle of goo-goo s.h.i.t.

"I'm all ears if you wanna tell me," he persisted with his calming voice, urging me to open up to him.

I shrugged, contemplating if I should or shouldn't. "Family stuff. It's no big deal, really." Admitting a part of my problem was a major deal for me; however, I wasn't prepared just yet to divulge the kind of ugliness I was sure he had never been exposed to. Hiding things and running away from them was what I was accustomed to; talking about it wasn't.

Still holding me close, he used his strength to maneuver me out of the pool area and into the garden section of his home, somewhere quiet, somewhere he could grill me to open up to him.

"Family stuff can be the biggest deal most of the time," he finally said as we started to walk around the green, lush haven littered with palm trees and all sorts of pretty, exotic-looking flowers.

One thing I knew was that Brody had a way to bring out my emotions. He did it better than Trista or any of my friends, maybe because I loved him. Today, I wasn't sure why, but I felt as though I just couldn't talk about it. I simply wanted to forget them and everything in between.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it." Wanting to eagerly brush this whole thing off, I threw a brave smile at him. It was one that should tell him I was fine, that he had nothing to worry about. "Why don't you go ahead and party? People will be looking for you soon."

Around the pool area was already chaotic and loud, and I found myself being comforted by the noise of it-the laughter and plain, simple fun of being young and reckless.

"I don't really care for the party." His gaze didn't waver, zeroing in on me as though he could see through my facade of bravery. "Something tells me you're not okay, so I'm staying and keeping you company, instead. This can take all night you know, and I just want to tell you I won't care if it does."

Why was he pressing on this? Was it because Lindsey wasn't here and he was bored out of his mind? I wasn't sure. Besides, it wasn't like I had the guts to really ask him. Anything involving Lindsey and him ... Well, I clammed up. I knew it wasn't my right to like-love-him the way I did. That was why keeping it a secret was highly important to me, and seeing there were a lot of school people around, I didn't deem it wise to be caught leisurely walking around the garden with him only wearing his board shorts and with me in my somewhat too skimpy bikini.

"There's no need for that. I'm not a pity party."

"Who said anything about pity?" He seemed offended, caught off guard by my comment. "Maybe I like being near you."

Now he was just f.u.c.king with me.

"Maybe you don't, but who cares, anyway?" I was trying not to snap at him, but I failed miserably.

"You do," he said in the most calming manner, as if he hadn't just declared what we both had known all along.

I opened my mouth to reject his belief, to argue about it, but I found myself conflicted by my wayward emotions. I loved Lindsey, and I was a loving, loyal friend, yet I was falling in love with the guy she was in love with. It didn't scream loyal, loving friend. I wished I had someone to blame for this emotion, for this behavior, but I was dumbfounded and even more confused.

My love for him wasn't a question. I didn't have to scream it at him or spell it out loud. He knew. With one look at me gazing at him, everything was there for anyone to see.

If I were a shameless woman, I would snake my way in into his heart, seduce him whenever I could just to secure a small part of him that was mine and mine to keep. However, I didn't want to do any of that. I had no right. He was Lindsey's, and I should simply try to forget that I loved him, too.

Feeling my heart crack a little, I braced my arms around myself, giving him an apologetic face. "You know what? I can't do this, not tonight, not right now." Biting my bottom lip, I spun around, speedily walking away from him.

I was a few feet away when I heard him chase after me. Wrapping both of his arms around my stomach, he smashed me against his hot body.

"Hey," he softly said above my head, his arms like steel bands around my body. "Where do you think you're going?"

Anywhere, any place that could distract me from this intense energy I felt from being near him. Having his body wrapped around mine, I didn't want my mind to pursue a different route to things, perceiving his intentions in the most f.u.c.ked up ways and leading me into believing he might want me, like me the way he did for my friend.

Competing with Lindsey was out of the question. Not only would she hate me, but anyone with eyes could also tell Brody was nuts about her. After all, whenever she was around, though he tried to play it off that he didn't give two s.h.i.ts about what she did, I would always catch him watching her flirt with other men, or when she was simply being her-laughing and joking around-there was something in his face. It was the look a man would give when he couldn't have what he wanted the most.

Although it was wrong to watch them closely, I did it in a way where it wasn't blatantly obvious. I knew they liked each other a lot, but Brody didn't want to break Carter's trust, so he never dared cross the line with her. He loved her the way I loved him-loving and worshipping from a great distance and suffering within.

Trying to stop loving someone ate at my soul and the very heart of me, but I was left with no choice. I had to do it for Lindsey. I needed to do it for her.

"I'm going to another party. Maybe I'll have more fun there," I reluctantly said as I tried to get away from his grasp. It wasn't necessarily a lie since I had been invited to a few parties that day. It was a Sat.u.r.day after all. House parties ran rampant in this party town.

Feeling guilty for locking me down, he slowly let go of me, but he didn't move to step away from my s.p.a.ce. With the use of his hands, he gradually spun me around so we were face to face.

"Don't go. I'm sorry, okay?" He looked it, and I was sorry for all the things I hoped and couldn't wish away.

If we were in different circ.u.mstance, maybe it wouldn't be so hard..., but even this close friendship with him would get me in trouble. I could see it clearly-Lindsey's angered face-and I didn't want to be the one to hurt her.

I disconnected from his intense gaze, needing to gather the strength and courage to keep on fighting my feelings for him. "Tonight's just not that night, Brody. I can't handle being teased or any of this. It's just very hard for me."

When he looked into my eyes, I felt as though he felt it, too, as though he truly knew the kind of torment I was in. It was confusing.

"I'm sorry..." he rasped out, appearing conflicted. "It's just you're always around whenever I need someone to speak to, so let me be that person for you, too."

Why the sudden urge to be my person? I didn't get him. Going down this route would only hurt both of us. More importantly, it would surely hurt me in the long run, which was the last thing I needed since I already had a lot to tackle.

I didn't want to come off like a b.i.t.c.h, but at the same time, it was essential for him to understand that this-our budding friendship and whatever else was there between us-wasn't possible.

"Why are you doing this?" There was a slight persistence to my voice, maybe even a little hurt because he knew how I felt about him. "We both know you love her..." I trailed off as I watched his reaction play across his handsome, scruffy face.

"Lindsey..." he began saying, as if he was trying to conjure the right words to describe what he wanted to convey before he nipped the side of his lip, drawing breath through his teeth. "Well, she's Carter's baby sister, and she's too much to handle sometimes."

I knew as much. He valued his friendship with Carter too much to mess it up.

"But you're in love with her even after all of that." It was a fact, one I told myself every day. "Does she even know how you feel about her?"

Shaking his head, he then murmured, "No. h.e.l.l, no."

f.u.c.k, that was painful. It was one thing seeing him fall in love with her from a distance, but it was another monster altogether hearing him openly admit it. I wasn't sure why I didn't want to direct our conversation to something light or consider walking away from him, but instead, I stood my ground, ready for the punches to keep on rolling.

"Do you plan to tell her?"

"Never," he vehemently said, frowning. "Not if I can help it."

He was in love with her, yet he wanted to suffer by not telling Lindsey. I understood that he respected Carter, but come on, he needed to grow some b.a.l.l.s and get over it. No one was worthy of him except for my dear friend, and even though it was cutting me to shreds thinking about them together, I would be content knowing two people I cared so much for were indeed happy as a couple. A part of me insisted it would be better off to leave the subject alone because, let's face it; it wasn't my business what he did or didn't do with his love life. At the same time, the other good side was persistent. If I could convince him to drop his inhibitions and dive into it, maybe I wouldn't feel so guilty any longer.

"What are you so scared about?"

"Everything."

I shouldn't, yet I couldn't stand him looking glum. Though I was young, I knew enough that I could be selfless in wanting him to find happiness.

"Maybe you should take the risk. Maybe it'll be worth it in the end."

An impatient sound came out of him before he gave me a pointed look, as if he was ready to challenge me.

"Maybe it won't, but I don't want to talk about that right now."

Of course he didn't. He would rather dwell on my problems than face his. Typical male redirection.

I was about to say something sarcastic when my phone rang in the small clutch purse that was hanging off my wrist. The size was enough to carry money, phone, car keys, and mints. It was imperative during summer months.

"One sec," I exclaimed as I dug in to fetch my phone before placing it against my ear to answer it.

All the while I was taking the call, I could feel the heat of his stare. If I had the guts, I would look him straight in the eye, raise my brow, and give him a 'take it or leave it' look. I knew my body was in the best shape, and I admit his admiring eyes didn't go unnoticed. Though I was delighted by his attention, I couldn't really revel in it without having to deal with the guilt that never ceased to always sprout whenever I strayed away from my mission of keeping it platonic between us.

"Who was that?" his brooding self immediately asked the moment I hung up the call and inserted the little device back into my tiny, golden, glittery clutch.

"Russo."

His handsome face frowned deeper, like he couldn't fathom why one of the guys on the soccer team with him was calling me out of the blue.

"And what does Russo want with you?"

He wasn't the only male friend I had. Did he even consider that option? I mean, I knew I wasn't the hottest piece of a.s.s around, but c.r.a.p, I had a few men fawning over me. I wasn't about to point that out just yet, though. Given his dark expression, it wouldn't be a wise move on my part.

"He's wondering if I wanted to head out to Cece's party. She's having some shindig with a hired club DJ or something like that."

My response didn't seem to matter to him, because he was off to the next question, giving me a foreboding look.

"And what did you tell him?"

"I said sure." It was a party all the same. Maybe I might even have a great time with no Brody to worry about since he would be stuck here with his own bash.

"You're not going anywhere. You're staying here."

He was ordering me what to do now? Since when did that happen?

Peering towards him, I tried to stand my ground. "I already told him I was going, Brody. It'd be rude not to show up."

"You're drunk, and I don't want you near perverts like him!"

"A couple bottles of beer doesn't get anyone drunk. I'm not a lightweight, so I'm all good to drive. Besides, what's the difference between perverts and flirts, anyway? It'll go down the same route if I let it happen. So, if you have a problem with that, that's too bad, 'cause I don't see it as one."

The fiery pizzazz and abrasive att.i.tude wasn't welcomed given the look he was giving me. In fact, that was the first time I saw him enraged. He was always happy-go-lucky with everything. This was ... different, refreshing even.

Pressing his lips together, he studied me with utmost intensity, not daring to even blink his eyes as he considered me fully. "You don't see it as a potential danger to hang out with perverts? Heck, you could be drugged, raped, or even killed, yet you don't give a rat's a.s.s about that. I wonder how your parents will feel about that if I decide to give them a call."

He didn't want to f.u.c.k me with me, not today, most especially not today.

"You wouldn't dare!" I growled in his face, heated at the threat of what he was willing to do just to get his way. "That's breaking code!" We all made a pact that, when we partied, we figured it out ourselves before we got our parents involved. As long as it wasn't jail, bail, or the emergency room, we never-ever-bothered with parents. He knew this as much as I did.

His eyes lit up, mocking me as he gave me a cruel yet uber s.e.xy smile. "Oh, I f.u.c.king dare, Amber Harrison." Facing me smugly, he stepped in close, too close for comfort, before he finally uttered the words. "So I dare you to dare me."

He was all male, and the intoxication of his minty breath with a hint of beer and the sweet aroma of his sun-kissed skin was playing havoc with my body.

Gathering all the courage I could, I ground my teeth together before I growled in protest. From him being too hot, from his uncalled for threats to call my parents, and this weird sudden s.e.xual tension that seemed to hung between us today, I just wanted to scream.

"What's your problem, huh? If you're having a bad night, there's no need to spread that s.h.i.t around."

"I am having a bad night, and I did say I liked having you near." I expected him to come at me with att.i.tude; instead, he seemed to have mellowed out, almost complacent. "So call me selfish, but I think I need you more than Russo does."

s.h.i.t, why did he have to speak to me that way? If I'd had more to drink, I would have thought he was telling me he wanted me for himself. I knew better, though. I should know better. Always.

"Brody-" I began protesting, but he was quick to silence me by drawing me near to his face so that I could almost taste his breath on my tongue. Close, intoxicating proximity was too much. He was too much. I was a quivering mess because I wanted him so badly, and at the same time, I was reeling it in.

"Shh, it'll be all right." His endless pools of dark eyes magnetized me. "You're upset, and I want to keep a close eye on you," he said soothingly, leaving me with dry mouth, almost panting while he continued to trap me without any effort other than speaking closely to me. "Don't be mad at me. I just want to know you're going to be okay, preferably with you staying here at my party."

d.a.m.n.