Big Mistake Page 3

  He looks down at me. “If we want to make the salsa lesson, we have to get moving.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Happy birthday, Beck. Did you enjoy dinner?”

  “Yes, I did. Thank you. You didn’t have to take me out—take us all out.”

  “I wanted to,” he says, tucking my hand into the crook of his arm. “And the night is still young. Ready?”

  I must have imagined his rudeness to the waiter, or misunderstood. He seems fine now. “Ready,” I say.

  Brianna hustles us through Beacon Hill and across the Commons. It’s getting dark, and I think to myself that we probably shouldn’t walk back through here once night falls. I let go of Garrett’s arm and lengthen my stride to come up next to Brianna.

  “Are you meeting someone at the club or something?” I whisper. “You’re, like, on a mission.”

  “Nah, I just really want to get there and shake my ass,” she says. “You gonna try out the salsa lessons?”

  I nod. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Then let’s go shake our asses and make boys cry,” Brianna says with a grin. She takes my hand and we walk on, giggling.

  Chapter 3

  Garrett

  Jesus. I thought we’d never get out of that restaurant before I killed the waiter. He spent the entire meal drooling over Beck—didn’t even bother to hide it. He had to be pushing forty. It was sketchy as hell.

  And she was drinking more than usual. I’m not sure if I should have tried to stop her or not. She’s old enough to drink, of course, but she’s Beck. I look after Beck; I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember.

  My dad took me aside when I was eight, and told me that Beck had cancer, and we had to help her, make sure she got healthy and was okay. That’s where it started for me. From then on, I’ve looked after her. It’s what my parents expect, it’s what her parents expect, and frankly it’s just the right thing to do. I’ve always wanted to protect Beck.

  But if I’m being honest, something has changed.

  When I went off to college, she was still finishing high school. She felt like a little sister, just like she always had. Beck’s pretty—I’ve got eyes, don’t I?—but she’s Beck.

  But now she’s graduated from college—she’s an adult—and I only see her when we’re both home and our families get together. She’s grown more and more beautiful, in a way she wasn’t when we were kids together.

  Sometimes I look at Beck, and I don’t see the sister I used to see.

  I see full lips, and pale skin that has a dusting of freckles in the summer. Her big brown eyes see right through me. Her dark hair curls kind of wildly, and when she doesn’t bother to tame it, I find myself wanting to run my fingers through it.

  You don’t pet your sister’s hair.

  As if being beautiful isn’t enough, Beck’s probably the nicest person I know. None of my girlfriends have ever liked her, which I didn’t understand at first—but lately, I understand perfectly. If I were a girl, and dating a guy who had a best friend like Beck, I’d hate her, too.

  I’d never tell anyone—not even Levi and especially not Beck—but Val, the girl Levi teased me about over dinner? We didn’t have the kind of amicable this has run its course kind of breakup I”m used to.

  She dumped me. Because, she said, I rolled over one night, sound asleep, wrapped my arms around her … and called her Beck.

  I don’t remember it, but shit. It’s like the thought wormed its way into my head and got me all turned around.

  The fact is, Beck is amazing, and every damn time I see her, I have a harder and harder time remembering that I’m supposed to look after her like a big brother.

  When she brought that guy Sam home with her, I found myself battling anger. I washed it away with more beer than I usually drank around my parents, but it simmered the whole night. When no one was looking, I saw him caress her back. It wasn’t overtly sexual, but there was caring and tenderness in that touch. I knew—absolutely knew—they’d slept together.

  Beck’s not like me. She takes relationships seriously, and she’s only had a few. I know he was her first lover. I know he caught me glaring, too, but I couldn’t help it. The thought of another guy with her, kissing her, touching her, feeling her lips everywhere—

  Not. Thinking. About. It.

  This is dangerous territory—this is not my business—but it’s a place I keep finding myself lately.

  Fuck.

  And then the next thing I knew, they were broken up. Beck’s mom told my mom, who mentioned it to me. He dumped her for some other girl. Beck never told me directly. We didn’t talk about it. But I wanted to drive up to fucking Lewiston and wrap his tongue around his neck. How could anyone do that to Beck?

  She’s been moping ever since.

  This weekend seemed like a good idea when I thought it up, but that shit with the waiter at dinner showed me that I’m in some trouble here. I need to get my head back on straight. Beck’s not mine to be jealous of.

  But then, as soon as we walk in the door of the club, Beck unbuttons the long sweater-wrap thing she wore to dinner, and whips it off to expose this fluttery, floaty, barely-there spaghetti-strap shirt that looks like it’s about to fall the fuck off her. Oh, and she’s wearing leather pants painted on like a second skin.

  Fuck.

  She looks fabulous. Every cock in the joint just stood up. How could they not?

  Holy shit.

  This night is going to be even worse than hell. It’s getting harder to remember this girl is not mine to look at this way.

  Even if she’s wearing tight, sexy leather pants and a wispy little flyaway top that makes her look like a fairy princess—although I will never, ever admit that to anyone, ever.

  All the dude-bros around us eye her as we make our way to the bar. A guy at a barstool lets his eyes do a long sweep of her, from head to toe, and I see him signal the bartender, then point at her, like he wants to buy her drink.

  I push my way between them and toss my Platinum Amex to the bartender, pointing at the four of us. “Tab, all four,” I say. “No one else buys the ladies anything, you get me?”

  The bartender nods.

  My parents are big on not making a scene out of the fact that they’ve been really successful, and they’d be mortified if they saw me flashing it like that, but if I have to watch a bunch of guys trying to buy Beck drinks, I’m going to commit murder. It’s better this way.

  “What do you guys want?” I ask, like I’m not seething inside.

  Beck throws an arm around Brianna. “I want a shot!”

  Oh, fuck on a stick. I clearly didn’t think this through.

  Levi leans in and yells in my ear. “Hey, man, I can buy my own drinks.”

  “It’s good,” I say. “You can get me next time.”

  “Good man.” Levi claps me on the shoulder, then steps closer to the bar in between Beck and Brianna. “What do you want?” he asks me, shouting to be heard over the noise.

  “Whiskey,” I shout back. No sense doing this half-assed.

  Beck and Brianna pick up their shot classes, and Beck passes another to me as soon as the bartender sets it down. “Let’s do it, Garrett!”

  As I toss the shot back, one thought keeps rolling through my brain: I am so fucked.

  * * *

  If I thought walking into the place was bad, I had no idea how bad it could get. We line up for the salsa lesson, and I can see guys checking Beck out. She’s clearly the hottest woman in the place, so it makes sense.

  Doesn’t mean I like it.

  As the teacher takes us through the steps, I find myself partnered with a number of women, a fair number of whom seem nice, single, and willing to be interested.

  But I can’t stop watching Beck, and all the guys she’s dancing with.

  The teacher calls out, “Okay, this is the last one, and then I let you go out on your own! Make it good!”

  The music starts up again, and Beck goes into a set of mo
ves that really need to be illegal. Where the hell did she learn to shake her ass like that?

  “Hey, um,” a feminine voice says next to my ear, “those are my feet.”

  I look down. I’m stomping on my dance partner’s shoes.

  Shit.

  When the dance ends, I thank my poor partner, then move over to where Beck is talking to the guy she was dancing with. It’s that same guy from the bar, earlier.

  “Hey, you want to dance?” I ask her, putting on a winning smile.

  The dude gives me a big eyeful of fuck off. “Dude,” he says.

  But Beck turns to me and gives me a hug. “Absolutely! Evan, this is Garrett. He’s my best, best friend.”

  She giggles, and it’s ridiculously cute. Beck’s giggle makes all kinds of heat go to all the right—wrong—places in me.

  Even as she places me firmly in the friend zone, right in front of some guy who clearly wants to bone her.

  He sizes me up. “Best friend, huh?” There’s a look in his eye I don’t like one bit.

  I straighten my shoulders. “Among other things.”

  Beck tugs at my hand. “I thought you wanted to dance.”

  I resist the urge to smirk at Evan. “I do.”

  Beck pulls me toward the larger dance floor, Evan clearly not even a thought in her mind anymore. When she drags me further into the crowd of people, she stops and starts dancing, moving closer to me.

  Holy God, I can smell her, even in here, with all these people. She smells floral, with a hint of something deeper and darker underneath. She smells enticing, delicious. Dangerous.

  I make myself take a step back. Beck doesn’t seem bothered, just smiles at me, then moves in close again.

  Jesus Christ.

  The dance goes on forever, and all I can feel is her body moving and writhing against me, making my brain—and my groin—go to all the places it shouldn’t go with her. Places it should just not go at all.

  But I can’t help it. She looks fantastic.

  Finally—finally!—the dance ends, and I take her hand. I ignore the spark I feel when I touch her, and start to lead her back to the bar.

  “Hey! No!” She digs in her heels and tries to stop our forward momentum. “Let’s dance some more!”

  “I need a drink,” I say.

  “Then you go, and I’ll just stay and dance.”

  No fucking way. “Come back with me, and let’s find Levi and Brianna.” I haven’t seen them since the lessons, and don’t care. I’m not leaving her on the dance floor, with her moves, and her floating fairy shirt, waiting for the next dude to pounce on her.

  “Aren’t you cold?” I say. “Maybe you should put your sweater on.”

  She looks at me like I’m nuts. “I’ve been salsa dancing,” she says. “I’m literally dripping sweat right now—are you blind?”

  No, I’m not fucking blind. I see the sweat beading on her skin. I wish I didn’t. I tear my eyes away and keep us moving.

  Back at the bar, Brianna grabs me. “Hey! Where’d you guys go?”

  “Sorry,” I say. “Beck wanted to put the lessons to good use right away.”

  “I still want to,” Beck yells, giving me the stink-eye. “Bri, come on! Come dance! Garrett is all about the bar!”

  She drops my hand and grabs Bri’s, tugging her off toward the dance floor.

  “Okay,” Brianna says. To me, she adds, “I’ll make sure to get some water in her.”

  Like everyone, Bri knows how to look out for Beck.

  “Jesus,” I mutter.

  “You all right?” Levi asks.

  “Yeah.” I force myself to relax. I can’t tell him. I can’t tell anyone. “Let’s take the opportunity to have a drink in peace.”

  “Right?” He rolls his eyes, indicating the entire bar. This, at least, I don’t have to explain. “The things we do for friends.”

  I find us a couple of empty barstools down near the end of the bar and settle in, then signal the bartender. “I think I’ll dial it back to beer for a couple rounds,” I tell Levi.

  “What?” Levi says. “Are we staying for a while?”

  I gesture toward where Beck and Brianna are dancing, having the time of their lives. “Do they look like we’ll be going anywhere soon?”

  “You got a point.”

  The bartender pulls our beers for us, and mine slides down my throat just fine. I welcome it. It’s going to be a long night.

  Chapter 4

  Garrett

  Levi and I hang for almost an hour at the bar, drinking and watching the girls. I actually lose count of how much I drink, which is not normal for me. I’m going to regret this in the morning, but I don’t care. I keep an eye on Beck as she moves around the dance floor, swaying and grinding in time to the loud club music.

  She floats. I don’t know if it’s her, or her clothes—or both—but she just floats across the dance floor, captivating every eye. She’s like a flame that all the moths are drawn to. I see guy after guy try and dance with her—it’s Club Havana, and this is what it’s all about.

  But Brianna’s really good at moving them away after a dance or two, so in spite of my growing anger and frustration—because I want to keep her safe, I tell myself, not because I want to be the one dancing with her—I don’t feel like I need to go out and beat anybody’s ass.

  I’d like to. It would probably make me feel better, right up to the point where the cops were called.

  I sigh.

  “Holy shit,” Levi says, “Beck’s on some kind of mission tonight.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “She looks hot—I know, man, not supposed to look, but she does—and she’s on fire tonight. I think that the guy that broke up with her did a number on her.”

  “Yeah?” I know I can’t look too interested, so I go for bored instead.

  “That’s what it sounds like. Bri told me a little about it. He really messed her up.”

  “Being cheated on will do that,” I say shortly. Every time I think of that asshole sleeping with Beck, then dumping her, I see red.

  “Is that what happened with Val?”

  I shake my head. “She’s just too busy for anything but school.”

  “Yeah,” he says. “Sure she is.”

  I’m saved from having to answer him—or punch him for insinuation I’m a liar—by the girls returning from the dance floor. They’re flushed, laughing. There’s still a sheen of sweat gleaming on Beck’s chest. I think about how it would taste against my tongue—salty, but also like Beck. I don’t know what Beck tastes like.

  Stop it! Of course you don’t know what she tastes like. She’s practically your sister.

  Then why can’t I stop looking at her?

  “Hey!” Beck yells, and throws her arms around me. I can smell the floral, and the extra something, and her sweat. It nearly kills me. I pull away. Fortunately, she doesn’t seem to notice. “Let’s do more shots! Something fruity!”

  “Okay, calm down,” I say, laughing in spite of myself. I turn to the bartender. “You heard the lady.”

  “Lemon drops!” Brianna shrieks.

  He gets them ready, lines them up in front of me. Levi and Brianna move in to flank me, and both of them pick up a shot glass. We clink glasses.

  But where the hell is Beck?

  I turn, and that fucking Evan guy is back. Beck’s standing a foot or so away, smiling up at him. As I watch, he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

  What the fuck? I see red. Literal red.

  They laugh, and Beck throws her head back. The line of her neck is staggering.

  Before I have time to even understand what’s happening, she darts over, ducks under my arm, and grabs the shot, the lemon, and the sugar packet. She carries them back and hands everything to Evan, then—oh, shit.

  She boosts herself up on the bar and lays back, pulling that fairy shirt up to expose a subtly muscled expanse of tanned midriff.

  Evan smiles at me—a smile I recognize, one guy
to another, a smile that says You lose, buddy—and pours the shot onto Beck’s stomach. She shrieks with laughter as he hands her the lemon wedge, and a little bit of the shot runs down the side of her waist and drips on the bar.

  Everything seems to be happening in slow motion. She pops the lemon wedge in her mouth. The dribble of alcohol slides across her skin. Evan tears open the sugar packet and the grains trickle down to form a small mound just above her navel.

  Nope.

  I don’t even think; I just act. Two long strides, and I shoulder-check Evan out of the way. Beck’s eyes go wide. I lean in and slurp the shot out of her belly-button, then lick the mound of sugar off and move up over her body.

  She’s hot and sweaty, and when I nip the lemon wedge out of her mouth, my sticky lips catch on hers for just second. I can’t think. I can’t see. I’m rock-hard in my jeans, and I just want to climb up on top of her and bury my hands in all that hair. Take that mouth.

  Evan’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Hey—” he begins.

  I spit the lemon wedge onto the bar beside Beck and swing around. He’s bigger than me, but apparently he sees something in my eyes that makes him think twice.

  “Hey, man, sorry.” He holds up his hands, palms out, then backs up and disappears into the crowd.

  Beck’s struggling to sit up. “Garrett—”

  “What the fuck, Beck?” I pull her upright and glare at her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she counters. “You licked me!”

  I did. I did lick her. She tasted like lemons and sugar and booze—and like Beck. Even with the puckery taste of the lemon and the sweet taste of the sugar, it's only Beck on my tongue. I didn’t know what Beck tasted like before now. I feel like I want to keep tasting her forever.

  “I wouldn’t have licked you if you weren’t being so irresponsible,” I snap. I pick her up by the waist and swing her down onto the floor.

  She shoves me away from her. “I’m not irresponsible!”

  “Yes, you are.” My head is reeling, and I lash out at her. “You’re so sloppy drunk you’re gonna let some strange dude do body shots off you? That’s the definition of irresponsible.”