Snapshot, p.4
Snapshot, page 4
I don’t get any of my questions asked or answered before a huge guy steps behind her. I wonder for a quick second if it’s her boyfriend, but they look way too similar to be anything but siblings. I’m going to believe they aren’t both.
“Winnie?” he questions, his deep voice booming over the music.
“Uh, yeah. You know my name?”
His shoulders relax, and his harsh face softens into a half smirk. “I think everyone here knows your name.”
“Why’s that?”
He leans closer, totally invading my space, but instead of smelling like alcohol, he smells pleasantly like mint. Plus, he’s ridiculously hot. “Reese has made sure everyone knows the little redhead, Winnie Lewis, is off-limits.”
Shock hits me like a truck, nearly making my eyes pop out of my head. “What?” I screech.
He laughs and pulls back, shrugging. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
I don’t get another word in before someone yells, “Fight.”
Emma dashes away, pulling her friend along with her, eager to see the so-called fight. And her brother—whose name I still don’t know—scowls and follows after her, even though at his size, he can probably see clear over the crowd. I push my way through people, following after them until I’m in the front.
Then my stomach drops.
“Stay the fuck away from my sister.”
Elijah shoves Reese, and he stumbles more than he should. Elijah and Reese are about the same size, but Reese is staggering and his moves are sloppy, meaning he’s probably drunk. Why are they fighting in the first place? And why is Elijah bringing me into it?
Reese stumbles forward, right in Elijah’s face, and gives him that same smirk that was directed at me earlier. “You’re a little late for that warning.” His laugh is mocking, and my stomach twists knowing whatever comes out next is going to make me hate him if I don’t already. “Like two years too late.”
I gasp and throw a hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. Elijah shoots a look in my direction, having heard me since the music has cut out, people probably wanting to hear what the two idiots in the middle of the room have to say.
“Eli, let me ex—“
He whirls around and throws his fist, but Reese is looking at me and fails to block the punch from connecting with his jaw. With a loud thud, he drops to the floor like a bag of bricks. A few more guys—bigger guys—move in on Elijah, but he doesn’t back down. I’m guessing the guys are teammates of Reese’s; they look like hockey players, not to be too stereotypical. That big guy from earlier stays back to help Reese up but isn’t shy about his hatred for my brother, aiming a glare in his direction.
I run over, stopping next to my brother while praying these guys are above hitting girls. Normally when Elijah fights, I stay out of it, and even though I know he’s tough, I’m guessing Reese has more friends than he does. And as much as my brother is a pain, I don’t feel like having to visit him in the hospital—or jail. The big guy gives up on trying to get Reese up and moves in between the standoff, holding up each hand in a different direction.
“He deserved that.” Is he talking about Reese? “Imagine if someone talked about your sister like that.”
That seems to level two of the guys, their heated eyes finding me, then dragging over to Eli. Their jaws tense, but they walk away.
The third guy isn’t as easy to convince, but eventually, the big guy is able to talk him down too, and then he turns to face us.
“Elijah. Always a pleasure.”
“Fuck off, Sawyer.”
Elijah shoves by me, only stopping for a beat to show his disappointment. It’s heavy, and I hate the feeling curdling deep in my stomach.
Embarrassment, hurt, and anger all take their turns ripping through me like a dull knife. I don’t want to go after him, because I don’t know what I would say. I can’t deny it; Elijah knows when I’m lying, and I’m not ready to admit everything to him just yet. I don’t know if I thought I could keep that night between me and Reese from him forever, but I definitely am not ready to deal with it now. Maybe I thought he would find out at one point, but Reese and I would be happy and in a relationship, and he would be forced to get over it. We couldn’t be further from that place right now.
I turn my attention to the pathetic man groaning on the floor, having not yet found his balance to stand. Wiping away whatever angry tears fell, I step in front of him. The shirtless guy trying and failing to help him up lifts his head just enough to look at me through his round-framed glasses. He uses his middle finger to push them up, and I don’t know if that was meant for me or if he always does that, but it’s not like I’m the bad guy here, so he can kick rocks for all I care.
“Get up, Reese.”
His head whips up, and he has the audacity to smile at me like I hang the stars. If I didn’t think he was drunk before, I know for sure now. His jaw is swollen, but his eyes are dilated, and I’m not sure if he’s really looking at me or through me.
“You came.”
“Tricking me into attending your party? Stating I’m off-limits?”
He takes his time climbing to his feet, stumbling and swaying the whole time. The guy holding him doesn’t let go, and it’s a good thing because if he did, I’m convinced Reese would fall on his face.
“You are, baby.”
My shoulders tense hearing baby from his lips. The same term of endearment he grunted in my ear that night. Memories threaten to flash through my head, but I don’t let them. “Don’t call me that.”
It’s not lost on me that we have an audience, and when he reaches for me, I take a step back. He whimpers like a puppy that was just denied a bone, and my anger surges. Growing up, I always saw Reese as untouchable. Even during those late nights on my roof when everything would catch up to him and he would cry, cursing his parents, his life, and anything and everything he could, he always felt invincible. A hard exterior protecting the charming insides not many got to see. Right now, I wonder where that man went. Because this pathetic, blubbering man saying things that aren’t even coherent isn’t the Reese I know. In fact, he’s reminding me a lot of his dad.
It wasn’t often, but on a few occasions, I would catch Mr. Larson on his knees, begging Reese’s mom for forgiveness. And that scares me because right now, his son looks exactly like him.
Not wanting to look at Reese any longer, I glance around the room at the various forms of shock written across so many faces, and it hits me. None of these people know my Reese. They know whatever version of him he has been fronting since he moved here—a version I have no interest in getting familiar with.
He falls onto his knees in front of me and wraps his long arms around my body, pressing his head against my pelvis. If I wasn’t so unbelievably turned off right now, I might’ve had flutters from having him so close after so long, but they couldn’t flap even if I wanted them to.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”
He clings to me, and his weight tugs on my loose-legged pants. The material shifts before slipping over my ass and onto my thighs. I blow out a rushed breath, but I’m not able to get him off me no matter how much I struggle. Gripping the waist with everything I have, I urge them to not slip anymore. But he weighs close to double what I do, and when he slumps to the ground, my pants rip from my grip and go down with him.
I’m in shock, standing in front of a room full of people with both my pants and a drunk slob around my ankles. The same guy who was holding him rushes forward, as well as the big guy I think Elijah called Sawyer. It takes both of them to rip him off me so I’m able to pull my pants back up.
The embarrassment from before is nothing compared to how I’m feeling now that everyone saw my ass and thong. I guess I should be glad I wore underwear at all, but no, that’s not the point. The point is Reese Larson is an ass. Whatever tie I had to him before is completely gone.
I feel nothing—well, maybe disappointment, sadness, and hurt—when I look at him now. But no conflicted feelings other than those.
“I’m sorry, Winnie. He doesn’t usually—“ Sawyer says while the shirtless guy stares.
“Don’t apologize for him.”
Reese reaches for me again, but the guys hold him back, and he doesn’t like that at all.
“She wants me to touch her, don’t you, Pooh Bear?”
My eyes fly open hearing my childhood nickname from his mouth. He knows my dad was always the one to call me Pooh Bear, and ever since he passed, I’ve only heard it a few times from my mom. It was a special name between me and my dad, and he just spit it out like it was nothing.
“Just like old times,” he adds, slurring the words.
I wish I could smack that smirk off his face. My fist won’t do much damage, but I know where to hit a guy with as little or as much force as I want and drop them at any given moment. I pull my leg back and thrust it forward, right between his legs. The guys let go when he cries out, and he falls onto his face with his hands holding his aching dick.
“I wouldn’t want you to touch me again if you were the last man on earth.”
“You love me,” he shouts after me, his voice strangled.
I pause in front of the crowd and glance back, seeing him still rolling around and holding his dick. “Whatever I felt for you died the moment you threw that night in my brother’s face. All I see in you now is a—“ I bite my tongue only for a second because I know it’s going to crush him. But maybe Reese needs a wake-up call, and this will be it. “Younger version of Robert.”
Whatever alcohol he had in his system seems to disperse for a single moment of sobriety. So many bad emotions push to the surface, but I don’t stick around to see or hear anything else.
I don’t let the tears fall until I’m out of that room. People in the hall stare, but I don’t care. I back up against the wall, unable to support my weight any longer, and drop my head to my hands.
Someone touches my shoulder, and I jolt and pray it’s not Reese.
“Sorry, sorry.” Emma frowns. “I—we…” She looks behind her to Laney, Sawyer, and that shirtless guy.
“I had no idea Reese had it in him to act like that,” the shirtless guy mutters. “I’m Schmidt, by the way.”
“Schmidt?” A weak smile tugs on my lips. “That’s an odd name.”
He pushes his glasses up and chuckles. “It’s my last name.”
“Don’t bother asking his first,” Sawyer gruffs. “No one knows it.”
How do none of them know his first name? Whatever, not my business.
“Winnie.” I slip my hand into his, surprised at how soft it is.
“You can hang out still,” Emma offers. “Reese went to bed, so you won’t have to see him.”
“Thanks, but knowing that entire room just saw my ass makes me never want to step foot in there again.”
“Why? You have a great ass.”
Even though the last thing I feel like doing right now is laughing, it tumbles out of me anyway. Sawyer rests a hand on his sister’s shoulder and gives her a disapproving look.
“Er, thanks, but I just want to go home.” That’s not really true, though. I don’t want to deal with Elijah either.
“Yeah.” Sawyer scratches at the back of his neck. “You need a ride or anything?”
“Thanks, but I’m go—“
“Well, well, well. I didn’t think I would see little Winnie Lewis at a college party.”
This night just keeps getting worse. To my pleasure, no one else seems excited to hear Zoey’s voice either.
“Zoey, always a pleasure.” I take a step around her, but she grabs my arm, just like I saw her do to Reese outside the school all those years ago. I hated it then, and I hate it even more now.
She puffs her bright-pink bottom lip out into a fake pout. “I just got here! Let’s catch up. It’s been far too long.”
I’d rather eat dirt. “No, thanks.” I pull my hand away and step around her before she can grab me again. “Sorry if your boyfriend can’t get it up anymore, though. That’s my bad.”
I don’t look back, even though I really want to, and I don’t let out the breath I was holding until I’m in the safety of the elevator. I’m not a confrontational person, but Zoey has always brought out the worst in me.
What a great fucking start to freshman year.
I drop my head back, enjoying the silence before deciding I need to text Elijah. I can’t leave him here.
Me: I’m leaving. Where are you?
Eli: Just go home.
Me: Don’t you need a ride?
Eli: I’m not there anymore.
Me: So you left me at a party all by myself? What the hell, Eli?
Eli: Figured you were in the hands you wanted to be in.
Me: You don’t know anything.
Eli: Yeah, no shit, sis.
I groan and drop my head back, wishing the hard wall would knock some sense into me. Getting involved with Reese is not what I need. Not that I was aware I would be getting involved with him tonight. I knew he went to college here, but I’m not here for him. I’m here because they have a great photography program, and it’s where my brother is.
The door dings, and I wipe my face and suck in a deep breath. When I walk out of here, everything between Reese and me is done. He’s a junior, I’m a freshman. I don’t know what he’s going for, but whatever it is will probably be the complete opposite of my classes. The campus is big enough that I bet I won’t even see him around.
Everything is going to be fine. I’m going to kick ass in my classes, meet some real friends, and it’ll all be good.
How many times do I need to say that for me to actually believe it?
5
Reese
Who the fuck is playing drums in my head? Everything hurts, and I think my dick is broken. What the fuck happened last night? The last thing I remember is drinking and staring at the door, waiting for Winnie to arrive.
I shoot up and instantly regret it when my body cries out against the sudden movement. My head spins and my stomach swirls so much that I’m wondering if I need to head to the bathroom or if I could even make it there before it all spews out of me.
“Well, good morning, sleeping beauty.”
I jolt at the voice next to me. Not realizing how close to the edge I am, I fall off the mattress and groan when my back hits the floor. Schmidt pops his head over the edge.
“Rough night?”
“What the fuck happened?”
“You were a dick.” Sawyer sits up from the floor at the foot of my bed.
Emma pops up next to him. “A huge one.”
“Why the fuck is there a sleepover in my room right now?” I lie back down and rub my aching temples. “And why is my jaw sore?”
“Not just sore, bruised. Same as your dick and probably your dignity. At least it should be,” Schmidt says as he steps over me. I don’t open my eyes, but a second later, his piss stream can be heard from my bathroom.
“Shut the fucking door, there are girls around,” Sawyer demands far too loudly, and I have to shush him.
“Girls?” Is one of them Winnie? But if so, why would she not be in bed with me?
“Yeah,” an unfamiliar voice squeaks. I peek one eye open to look at who the voice came from. A petite girl with warm-blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a nervous smile waves from the other side of Emma. My eyes snag on the scar across her nose, directly under her eye. “I’m Laney. Emma’s friend.”
“Best friend.” Emma squeezes Laney’s face between her thumb and fingers.
“Great. Why are you all in my room?”
“To stop you from escaping—again.” Schmidt wanders back into the room, rubbing his eyes.
“Again?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Emma giggles. “I woke up to you in the hall, shouting about how you had to go get a frog.”
What?
“You insisted on going to the pet store to get a frog, but they didn’t have any,” Sawyer tells me. “So you got a turtle.”
I follow his pointed finger across my room to the small cage and the turtle inside it. What the fuck did I drink last night? Jack and Coke hasn’t made me black out in a long time. I rarely even drink, but the nerves of waiting for Winnie got to me.
“Well, how much was it?”
His smirk is enough to make me want to hurl. “Only seven eighty.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Nope,” the three of them reply simultaneously.
Unable to stand, I crawl over to the cage with the turtle inside, and the others move next to me.
“He’s cute at least,” Emma’s friend—whose name I forgot already—offers, I assume trying to make me feel better about the entire situation. “Did you decide on a name?”
“I don’t know, did I?”
My friends look at each other and swap grins. “Uh-huh. You named him Eeyore.”
Fuuuck me. I named a turtle after the cringey nickname Winnie used to call me just to annoy me? How pathetic am I?
“Yeah, you tried calling it Winnie, but the pet store owner said something about it being a boy.” Sawyer chuckles.
“Well, did she ever show up? Winnie, I mean?”
They swap looks again, but it’s not with a grin this time.
“Yeah, she showed up.” Sawyer flattens his lips, meaning whatever went down isn’t good. “With her brother.”
Really not good.
“He punched you,” Emma blurts as if it was killing her to hold it in.
That’s not surprising. And not the first time I’m sure he’s wanted to do that, but what pushed him over the edge?
Seeing my questioning gaze, Schmidt slaps my back. “Why don’t you get cleaned up, and then we will fill you in.”
Good idea. Alcohol’s oozing from my pores, and it’s making me more nauseous than I already am.
“The entire room saw her ass?” My voice booms over the apartment—probably clear down the hall too.
