Rule, page 20
“Jesus.” I exhale. I was going to tell Brett Powers that I’m in love with him. I close my eyes, trying not to beat myself up, but seriously, What am I doing?
This is not the time or place to do this. I take another calming breath and open my eyes to see Brett and the bartender carrying plates of food.
Brett places some nachos with what looks like the kitchen sink on them and a Caesar salad in front of me. The bartender goes around me to place fried cheese sticks and potato skins on the table.
“Can we get two shots of Jameson, also?” Brett calls out.
“A salad?” I say, looking at the table.
He smiles. “Balance, my love, it’s all about balance.” This time I’m the one laughing as he scoops up a glob of sour cream on a cheesy chip and feeds it to me.
“Oh God, that’s really good,” I groan.
His eyes darken, and he feeds me another bite, then leans down to take my mouth, his tongue twisting with mine, stealing all the nachos from me as I moan.
“Here we go.” The bartender clears his throat.
Brett slowly lifts his head, but stays focused on me while the bartender places the two shots in front of us.
“How about we make a bet?”
I arch a brow. “Sure.”
“If I win, you sit on my face.” He winks as I freeze midbite, eating a cheese stick.
“God, Brett.” I shake my head. “Sure, since I know I’m gonna kick your butt. What if I win?”
He shrugs, eating a chip. “Name it.”
My eyes narrow as the crowd at the bar cheers at something.
“Hmm.” I stand, pulling my dress down. “Anything I want…?” I walk over to the pool cues.
“Anything.” He motions to the screen. “And your brother just scored a touchdown.”
The bar explodes again, and I turn.
He laughs as he backs up, raising his hands. “This is not my fault that you’re distracted and not watching the game.”
“It is too,” I snap, watching the replay, digging my nails into his bicep. “I’m so proud. Look at him, Brett.”
“You should be. He’s gonna go all the way. I bet he goes pro.” He walks over to the pool table and starts racking the balls.
“You think so? I don’t know. I mean, my dad has made it really clear he expects him to get his degree in case something happens.”
Reaching for my drink, I try to stay focused, which is not easy because Brett is moving the rack in place with his strong hands. It’s enough to almost make me groan out loud.
“What do you think he should do?” He looks up at me, and the world stops when I lose myself in his fucking blue eyes. And for the first time in my life, I actually say what I think, not what my dad or even Jude would say.
“I think he has a million-dollar arm and should go for it.”
He straightens and grins. “I think you’re right. You want to break?”
“Yes,” I puff out, trying to calm myself as my nipples harden. I reach for the chalk to use on the end of the cue stick.
Smiling, I can feel his eyes on me when I lean over. Getting ready to break, I look up.
“If I win…” Leaning forward, I gracefully snap the cue ball hard. The balls scatter like mice, and I pocket two.
I smile triumphantly. His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel like I just scored a touchdown.
“Lay it on me, Baby Girl.”
“If I win…”
ALEXANDREA
I smell coffee and the ocean… I groan, blinking my eyes open only to close them at the bright sun in his room.
“Oh my God.” Resting my hand over my eyes, I try to decide if the alcohol I drank is going to stay down, or if I need to puke.
“Drink some water.” Brett’s voice makes my fevered body pebble with goose bumps.
“Why? Why, why?” I groan as I dramatically slap my arm down on the bed. He needs to understand that I feel like crap.
“Why are you so beautiful? Accident of birth…”
I glare over at him as he sits with a huge, dimpled grin, pillows propped behind him. The white sheet laying right at the end of his muscled abs, at the end of that V…
“Here, let me help you.” He reaches for me. “I have something that will cure your hangover.” Lifting me on top so I’m straddling him, he slides down.
“Grab the headboard, and if I can talk, you’re not fucking my face hard enough.” God, he’s just so nasty. Grabbing the wood headboard, I stop him from lowering me onto him.
“Brett, you didn’t win the bet.” My voice gives away my dark need while my head’s slightly spinning. Not sure if it’s the alcohol, or just him.
“I let you win,” he murmurs, biting the inside of my thigh as I look down at him, unable to hold back my smile.
Yesterday might have started off as a nightmare, but it ended up the best day ever. His blue eyes, which are a bright turquoise in the morning light, stare up at me in challenge. That pull, need, grows every day. It’s almost as if it gets stronger with each second.
Hunger.
Power.
It surges through me. I can feel he’s connected to me. This obsession goes both ways.
“You didn’t win. I kicked your ass, along with everyone else’s.” I smile as my hands tighten on the headboard.
“Fuck my face, Alex,” he demands as I slowly lower myself. “That’s my girl, sit on Dean Powers’s face.” He praises me.
And while his hands dig into my hips, I do. Closing my eyes, I let go and rub my pussy hard on his face, fucking him like I need to get to the finish line as if my life depends on it, and at this moment, it might.
“Oh fuck.” I dig my nails into the headboard as I climb, chasing it, aching into his mouth while he holds me still. Coming, not caring that I might be smothering him, unable to think about anything other than this all-consuming pleasure. All I can do is sob out his name as the ecstasy flows through me.
He pulls me up, and I look down at him. His eyes… I shiver. With his face covered in my juices and cum, he says, “Now fuck me, just like that.”
I obey, sliding backward. His turquoise eyes have gone almost black as he watches me take his thick, pulsing cock in my hand and thrust my slick, wet pussy on it.
“Fuck,” he hisses, and I whimper, my nails digging into his chest.
I’m so sensitive, but it feels so good. I raise myself up and let go, slamming down on him again and again.
“Jesus Christ, that’s it. Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.” He grabs my hips and prompts me to rub my clit on him.
“Deep, you feel it?”
I almost scream, How can I not feel you? Your cock is giant-size, but I’m rubbing and pulsing, ready to explode and take him with me.
“Brett…” I whimper. “I’m going to...” And I come, can’t help it. Everything is heightened as I shatter into a million pieces. His fingers pinch my nipples as he goes over, pulsing his own release inside me. I float in this magical world that’s just us and this feeling.
“Fuck.” His voice sounds hoarse.
I collapse on him, my own breath needing his; my lips part to steal it. His hand caresses my back, and I never want to move. If I could, I’d keep him inside me forever.
“I love you,” I whisper into his mouth.
He reaches up to hold the back of my head, almost as if he hasn’t come down from his own high, and he kisses me, his teeth lightly biting my lower lip as he sucks on it for a second, then lifts me off. Together, we groan at the loss.
I smile, lying on my side, watching his chest rise and fall while he catches his breath.
“Brett?”
The room is silent, save for the ocean. He stands and walks to the bathroom. And suddenly I’m cold, like everything that seconds ago felt right, might not be.
“Brett?” This time I sit up, clutching the sheet, because I just told him I love him, and he said nothing.
Horror stains my cheeks. No. This can’t be happening. He can’t seriously think he gets to walk away.
I may not be his age, but I’m not stupid. I know what I feel, and I know he has feelings for me. I mean, what exactly are we doing here? The toilet flushes, and he walks out, saying nothing. I stare at him. And my world that seconds ago seemed magical, dies.
I pull my knees up, clutching the sheet tighter as if that can shield me from this pain. Fuck it, I said my truth. Now he can tell me his. It can’t be worse than this silence.
“Did you hear me?” I’m hating how raspy my voice sounds, like I’m going to cry, but I’d rather die than cry right now.
He stares at me… and that’s all he does.
Time. It’s a tricky thing.
Moments that are powerful, so fucking incredible, all we want is to freeze time, allowing us to cherish them. A desperate need to cheat Father Time so that we can keep that moment with us longer.
Then there’s this…
Awful.
Humiliating.
That sick feeling that can’t be gone fast enough, but it stays, attacking the brain. Like a fucking virus, it spreads, fighting to keep itself alive. Eventually, it wins, because as much as we try to lie to ourselves, it’s there inside us, haunting us day and night.
He walks over to his dresser and jerks it open.
“I said I love you.” I try to swallow past the lump in my throat.
He pulls on some Adidas sweatpants.
“I heard you.” His voice… that voice that makes my stomach flutter and heart skip is gone.
I look up at the ceiling. My eyes are stinging, my face is on fire, but I will not give in and let those burning tears out. Standing, I jerk on my black dress, which was laying on the floor.
“I won,” I state, straightening my shoulders.
He walks over to his window and looks out at the view, arms crossed.
“You won what, Alexandrea?”
“I won yesterday. You said name it. I want your truths.” I take a breath, grabbing my $750 pair of Jimmy Choos and walk toward him. He stands, not moving as I wait.
“Silence?” I try to swallow. “What are we doing?”
He looks over at me, and I take a step back because his eyes… his eyes are nothing. Just blue eyes staring into my pained ones.
“Am I just a rush? Is that what this is? You getting off on taking me to the edge?” My voice cracks, and for a second, I see a flash of pain, maybe even fear, but it’s gone as he turns and stares out the window.
“I’m a scientist, Baby Girl. I’m not wired for these things that you seek. I don’t want anything that takes me away from my work.” His eyes travel over my face, and he turns back to the ocean.
And this is my second, my moment that I understand what true pain is. Because that lecture, that speech that just came out of his mouth is bullshit, lies only a fucking robot that’s programmed would say.
Not Brett.
Not the man who makes me breathless with just a look… Reaching up, I brace myself against his cold window.
“What’s wrong with you?” I whisper accusingly.
Silence, nothing but my own harsh breathing. My head pounds so hard I might have a stroke.
“I’m going to go.” I shake my head as the tears I swore wouldn’t fall somehow win. Hot, salty tears wet my cheeks. “Let me ask you one more thing.” At this point, I don’t care anymore if I’m humiliating myself. Things like that mean nothing now.
“How long was this going to go? Had I not told you I love you, would you have continued sneaking around? Fucking me in your office like a… a… dirty secret?” I can barely get it out I’m crying so hard.
Turning, he tries to pull me into his arms as if I’m a charity case who needs a pat on the back.
“No!” I slap his hands away. “Fuck you. I thought…” I look up at the ceiling. “I thought you loved me, the same way I love you,” I scream at him, shaking with anger.
“Alexandrea, enough!” he yells, and though it’s the first real emotion to come out of him, I’m done.
“You’re right, Dean Powers. It is enough,” I spit. Turning, I grab my bag, not caring that I’m barefoot as I run outside, almost slipping on the sand.
I drop my bag on the driveway, frantically searching for my keys in my purse. Thank God, Iain returned my Honda from Jett and Raven’s last night before Brett and I got home in an Uber.
“Where are they?” I scream like a crazy person, wiping enough of the tears that won’t stop for me to find the fucking key fob.
“Alex, Jesus Christ, come back inside. I’m not letting you drive like this.”
Hands shaking, I grab my pepper spray and stand, holding it straight at him.
He stops.
“Don’t. Fucking. Come. Near. ME!” I’m panting, but so is he. Our eyes lock, and suddenly, I’m strangely calm.
I crouch down, and this time, I instantly find my key fob. I pick up my bag, sling it over my shoulder, grab my shoes, and unlock my car.
I don’t look back at him as I pull out. I don’t care that as soon as I’m away from him I start to cry again.
In fact, I don’t care about anything.
BRETT
“Pam, is Dean Murphy in?” Barely waiting for her to stop talking on the phone, I head toward Richard’s office, or should I say my office in two days.
“Dean Powers, he’s on a call…” I don’t stop and open his office door because that’s how I roll these days.
It’s been eighty-two hours since she left my house. My mind cannot let go of her pain as she aimed that pepper spray at me. Her love, pain, and anger spurred her forward while I stayed and drank.
I just walked back into my house and cracked open the bottle of Jack Daniel’s. It’s never failed me before, and I’m still waiting for him to come through this time.
Richard looks up as I burst in, boxes scattered around, all his diplomas and pictures already gone, nothing but his large desk and his big wingback leather chairs remain. He frowns when I drop into one and continues to talk.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, because I’ve come to confess. Christ, maybe I’m still drunk from last night, but he needs to know.
“Okay, that sounds excellent. He actually just walked into my office. I’ll pass on the good news.” Richard smiles, his wise eyes narrowing on my face because I’m not hiding.
Not anymore.
“You got it. I’ll send you a postcard.” He laughs, then hangs up.
“Christ, you smell like a goddamn brewery,” he says, sitting back in his large chair. “That was Ted Johnson. He’s excited about you taking over—”
“I need to stop you, Richard.” My voice is harsh, but then again, I’m starting to get used to it since that seems to be my new tone.
“You know that I think of you not just as my mentor, but as a friend?”
Richard leans forward, and his old hands reach for a box at the end of his desk.
“Why do I feel like I need one of these?” He pulls out a cigarette.
I don’t stop him as he lights up and closes his eyes, inhaling deeply as if he’s stealing a kiss from an old love, a secret, private obsession.
And there my own obsession floats around in the smoke, her big green eyes blinking at me as her lips whispered her love.
Christ, I’m tired. I just want peace. Just one second when I don’t see her.
I clear my throat and he takes another deep inhale, then opens his eyes to look at me.
“I broke the rule,” I state.
“Go on.” He exhales.
“I fucked a student.”
His hands shake. Nodding, he leans forward to snuff the cigarette out.
“Diane would kill me if I had more… her and my cardiologist.”
“I will, of course, put in my letter—”
He holds his hand up, stopping me. I lean back in my chair.
“Is it over?”
“Yes.” The pain in my chest makes me stand and walk to the window. Otherwise, I might actually rub it, like that can make it stop burning.
Unacceptable.
“Does anyone know?” His voice sounds way stronger than I thought it would.
I look over my shoulder at him sitting calmly, hands crossed on the desk. “Only my family.”
“Then what’s the problem?” He looks at the massive piles of paper on the desk.
“Richard–”
“Let me stop you, Brett. You’ve been like a son to me. We all make mistakes. I don’t know why you feel like you need to confess your sins, but we’re not Catholic priests, for fuck’s sake.” He shakes his head.
“I heard nothing, Dean Powers. Friday, I will be honored to stand in front of the faculty and students and welcome you as head dean. It is everything you’ve worked for all these years and deserve.”
I cross my arms and stare at him. “Richard, if you’re worried about the project–”
“Worried? I’m not worried about anything. Brett Powers doesn’t disappoint, ever.” He cocks his head at me.
“Is there anything else?” he goes on. “I’m having the painters come tomorrow morning. Are you still wanting the walls white? I, myself, think a color would be better, but it’s your office.”
“Green. I want that wall green, almost emerald. The rest can be white,” I snarl, not sure why I feel almost robbed.
He just absolved me. Richard looks behind him at the wall I pointed at.
“Interesting choice.” He reaches for the phone. “I’ll call Freddie and let him know. Anything else?” But he’s already talking to Pam to get Freddie on the line.
“No, just let me know when I can start moving in.”
Walking out, I nod at Pam who lowers her reading glasses.
“See you on Friday, Dean Powers,” she calls after me.
I keep walking. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I text Derrick to go to my office and get it ready for the move. Then I text Josh.
ME: Going to work from home.
I turn the corner, my phone instantly vibrating.
JOSH: Is everything okay?
Is everything okay? I almost laugh because on paper it’s better than okay.
ME: Fine.
Pocketing my phone, I throw the glass doors open. I took my bike this morning and walk over to my reserved spot. The sight of two Lime scooters parked on the sidewalk makes my head pound. I straddle my bike, ignoring them, blocking out any thoughts of her, or the way she looked that day with her hands gripping the handlebars, her face when the cars passed her and drivers yelled and flipped her off.
