I don’t think I’ve ever used the word immaculate to describe someone before, but trust me, it fits him.
His eyes widen as he takes in the sight of me—standing at the end of his bed, naked from the waist down—and he blinks twice. “Elise?” His voice is pure gravel, and my stomach tightens.
“Yeah?”
Realizing he’s naked, Justin sits up, tugging the sheet up to cover his lap, like he’s suddenly self-conscious—like he wasn’t inside me a few hours ago.
Oh God.
He’s still watching me but he doesn’t say anything else as I free my leggings from the blankets and pull them on. Yeah, I really might vomit. Shit, this is awful.
He pushes one hand through his messy hair, his bicep flexing with the effort. “Last night …” Confusion is etched across his gorgeous features as he works on remembering what happened, and I swear to God, if he doesn’t say something in the next three seconds, I’m going to cry.
Tears threaten behind my eyes and I take another slow, shaky breath.
Some part of me needs him to acknowledge this mountain between us. Needs him to laugh and make some joke that we’ve really cemented our friendship now— or any lighthearted remark that will make last night mean something more than just being a colossal mistake, a huge dark mark on our friendship. I need him to say something that will make it all better. Anything but silence.
But he stays quiet, as if he’s trying to piece together what happened between us. The silence stretches on and on, and I start to grow uneasy. If he doesn’t remember last night, I’m going to die of humiliation. Was I that unmemorable?
“Nothing happened,” I blurt, unable to take his stony silence any longer.
“Right. Nothing happened,” he echoes. He looks more convinced than I feel.
My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. Does he really not remember?
His phone chirps from the bedside table, but Justin makes no move to grab it. He’s still watching me. He’s still naked. And he doesn’t look nearly as worried as I feel. Does he seriously not remember last night? Any of it? The soft grunts he made into my neck as he thrust above me will be forever burned into my brain. The feel of his body moving over mine is a memory I’ll never be able to erase. The ache in my thighs and the tingle of my lady parts will fade, but I have a feeling my tattered heart will take much longer to recover.
“Don’t panic, okay?”
“I’m not!” I snap, a little too quickly. He must have read the panic in my eyes, in my stiff posture, but I can’t help it. I am panicking. Big freaking time.
His phone chirps again, filling the awkward silence between us. An empty condom wrapper rests next to his phone and oh my God my cheeks are as red as a tomato. I can feel it.
“You should probably grab that. I’m going to go,” I stammer.
Some unreadable emotion flashes across his features, but he reaches for the phone and I scamper toward the door, needing to get away from this fucked up situation as fast as possible.
4
Secrets
Elise
The apartment is quiet as I move through the living room and kitchen. Thank God Owen’s not up yet. I’d much prefer to do this walk of shame in private. In fact, I don’t know how I’ll ever meet my brother’s eyes ever again. Last night was completely out of character for me.
I find my phone and my purse where I left them and turn toward the door when I see movement from down the hall that stops me dead in my guilt-ridden tracks.
It’s my brother. Dressed only in a pair of athletic shorts, his hair is sticking up in six different directions.
“Hey,” Owen says, eyeing me curiously. His voice is gravelly from sleep, and he stretches his arms over his head. “You stay here last night?”
“No!” I say quickly before composing myself. I have to swallow the bile in my throat before continuing with my lie. “I just came by to see if you guys wanted coffee. Figured you’d be hungover.”
“You’re the fuckin’ best,” Owen groans. He either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t call me out on the fact I’m still wearing last night’s clothes. “I need coffee. Like eight Tylenol. And maybe a breakfast sandwich from Tito’s?” he asks, mouth curving into a hopeful grin.
I roll my eyes and let out a sigh. It’s a little breakfast place we all love, but it’s always packed on a Sunday. “Fine. But if I have to wait in line for Tito’s, you have to come to my classroom on Career Day and tell my students about your job.”
“Deal,” he agrees.
“And you’re paying.”
Owen grabs his wallet from his bedroom and emerges with his black card, which he hands me no questions asked. “Thanks, sis.”
“And I don’t want to run in to any of last night’s conquests. Get rid of them before I get back.” I narrow my eyes at him and shove the card in my purse.
“Done.” Owen never lets his bunnies sleep over, but there are bound to be a few of them lingering. His gaze cuts over toward Justin’s bedroom door, which is still closed. “I think Brady had an overnight guest too. I heard them going at it. But yeah, I’ll clear everyone out by the time you get back.”
My heart hammers wildly in my chest. My own brother heard me fucking his friend last night. And Justin doesn’t even remember it. Welcome to the worst best day of my life. It doesn’t get much worse than this, folks.
When I make it back to the apartment thirty minutes later, Owen and Justin have made a significant dent in the cleanup efforts.
I pass out the coffees and breakfast sandwiches to the guys—Teddy and Asher are still here too, and everyone is nursing an obvious hangover. Luckily, Owen stuck to his end of the bargain because any overnight guests are gone.
I sip my coffee and listen to my brother and Asher trade stories about their conquests from last night.
“You disappeared early last night, Brady,” Owen says to Justin, a smirk on his lips. “Who was the hottie in your bed last night?”
I wait for Justin’s eyes to stray over to mine, but thankfully they don’t.
“No one,” Justin says in a voice so convincing I can’t help but believe he means it.
I keep it together just long enough not to arouse any suspicions, and then I leave, ducking out into the hall where the tears start falling before I even reach the elevator.
Fleeing the scene of the crime is a necessity, but going home alone is the last thing on my mind. I text my bestie, Becca, while in route to her place.
I need alcohol.
She replies when I’m sitting in the back of the Uber. She doesn’t bother pointing out it’s only ten in the morning.
What happened?
Justin Fucking Brady.
She knows how I feel about him. My stupid, secret crush wasn’t a secret I could ever keep from her. We have very few of those between us, if any.
Oh girl.
She follows up her last text up with the knife emoji and I chuckle alone in the back of the car like a crazy person.
A few minutes later, the driver pulls to a stop in front of her apartment, and Becca lets me inside and pulls me into a big hug.
“What the fuck did he do now?”
I knew she was probably thinking that he’d done something insensitive like hooked up with a jersey chaser right in front me. The truth is obviously much worse. And not something I’m going to blurt out on her doorstep.
Becca leads me inside and then stops in the kitchen to pour herself a mug of coffee. “Want some of this? I have vodka too if you were serious about the alcohol.”
“Oh God,” I groan. “I’m never drinking vodka again.”
I help myself to a bottle of water from her fridge and follow Becca into the living room.
“What the hell happened after I left?” she asks.
Becca had been at the bar with us after the game. She’s close friends with my brother too, but she’s not a big partier, so she’d opted to go home instead of come back to Owen and Justin’s place.
I let out a heavy sigh. I might as well get this over with. Time to rip off the band aid.
“I slept with Justin last night.” It feels so weird to say that out loud.
Becca’s hand flies up to her mouth. “Oh my God. Like …?”
“Yeah.”
“But,” she starts.
“Yeah,” I repeat.
“What happened? I don’t understand.”
That makes two of us. One second I was standing in his room, and the next I was on his bed with my hands in his hair as he kissed the daylights out of me.
“We drank together. He seemed so sad. It wasn’t like him. Then we started kissing and …” Tears form in my eyes and I blink rapidly.
“Where did this happen?” Becca asks.
“In his room.”
“Owen doesn’t know?”
I shake my head, curling my legs up on the couch. “No one knows. Not even Justin.”