I sit there stunned, fucking what in the fuckery fucks of all things that have—literally—fucked, hugging the steering wheel, staring at the little digital display on the car screen; six-fifty.
Definitely early enough. Because I’ll guarantee you one thing, I’m straight up outta this bitch!
Trey scavenges behind me, searching for something, and then I feel the frantic wipes against the small of my back, his fist still gripping the bottom of my shirt, almost between my shoulder blades. While I appreciate the fact that I won’t have a stiff patch of jizz on my shirt... what the fuuuuuccckkkk!?
I’m not exactly sure of what he’s using—my eyes blinking absently as the little stitching of the wheel remains embedded in my cheek—if I had to guess, I’d say judging from the scratchy feeling, it’s a cheap, takeout napkin.
And that’s exactly how I feel right now.
And I’m about to take myself outta this equation.
This douche nozzle seriously just pushed me off of him and blew his load all over me. And can I say, getting right to that cusp where you’re about to explode with a mind-blowing orgasm, only to be denied, is enough to put anyone in a shitty mood. And not just that. I came down here, yes, totally rushed and forced on him, I get it. But anyway, I’m gonna act like everything is alright and cool with him picking me up to ditch me? Leaving me to... what? Wait for him while he goes and does whatever or whoever it is he’s doing?
It’s a no for me.
Why didn’t I even say shit? Imagine if that shoe were on the other foot. I’d have zero qualms about telling Jonathan to dick off, or I’d just come clean. So, I’ll drop you off!?
The dazed part of my brain finally kicks off, and flooding in is that wild rush, the signal from my amygdala—the only thing being stimulated at the moment is my hypothalamus. Wow, that A and P class I took during undergrad really stuck with me. Anyway, I feel my temper flare, pushing my palms against the leather binding of the wheel, sitting straight up.
“Get off me,” I growl out the words, referring to his hand that is still holding tight against the bare skin of my waist, his grasp slackened from my shirt. Obviously it’s my ass that is in fact still on him, on his upper thighs to be exact. Still feeling the heat from his body, the tensing of his palm which falls from my hip. I feel the pure frustration and utter humiliation seeping through every cell in my body. An inferno of heat surging up my neck.
Well... here’s Johnny!
Man, I pegged this guy wrong. Not to mention, in my sick and twisted state, I’d really like him to get a pegging of his own right now. Okay, no. I’m not a masochist... but I’m pissed!
“Save it!” I quickly shake my head, clambering back over to the passenger seat, nostrils flaring, my breaths coming out hard as low grumbles accompany each exhale.
“I didn’t mean to... I thought I should—”
“Splooge on me?” I snap back, not bothering to look at him. Furiously fumbling to get my inside-out jeans leg, inside-in, or outside-out... hell, who gives a shit! He remains quiet, but I can feel his stupid eyes burning into the side of my face. “Well, congrats, your pull out game is fucking strong.”
Yanking my pants onto my leg, Trey reaches back, retrieving the shoe I’d ditched, grabbing it from the back seat, a timid hand offering it to me. I snatch it from him. Again, no shot I’m looking at this dick-lick, ass-bag, proven to be like—
“I’m sorry... You threw me off. I freaked out... and I—”
“Back to the stuttering!?”
That’s right folks, the bitch game is on full blast at the moment. I finally bring myself to look at him, eyes wide as he draws in a deep breath, head shaking with his lips parted, an apologetic type of look on his face.
But fuck that noise.
I’ve known my fair share of selfish men.
And sadly, because I’m seemingly always a poor judge of character, I just added another one to the list.
“Briar, I’m sorry. How you looked... when you said what you said... I just—”
“I missed your dick!”
God, I’m an idiot. Why’d I say that other shit out loud?
As I struggle to pull the jeans up, I glance down at the tiny shred of what used to be my black lace thong, half ripped, dangling from my upper leg. I grip the material, giving my own swift and hard pull. Holy fuck, that hurt! I ignore the burning sting on the inside of my thigh... guess that little lacy scrap was stronger than it seemed.
Anyway, I feel a desperate need to dry up that damp, moist—threw up in my mouth a little with that word—swampy, sex feeling still coating between my legs. I keep my glaring eyes on Trey’s pained expression, my lips curled and pursed up under my scrunched nose.
Taking the shred of fabric and wiping the remnants of him. Well, not the ones he already got to—you know what I mean. I hold my death stare to his widening eyes as he watches me. And I do the more mature thing.
Nah, fuck that.
I’m currently a woman scorned.
I take the sex-coated, ripped up, overpriced panties, balled up in my fist, and I pelt them at his face, before jumping out of the truck.
I hit the ground, mostly dirt with little patches of grass with a solid thud, thankfully sticking the landing.
“Oh, and you know how you wanted me to tell you”—I spin around to face him, my hands working overtime, flailing wildly in front of my face—“how your whole new you bullshit was going?”
He opens his mouth, about to say something, working desperately to pull his own pants up.
“Well, it’s not!” I blurt out before slamming the silver door to his truck with a loud bang, stomping around to the back, trying to reach up into the bed and grab out my suitcase. Though I’m tall, it seems to have shifted to the opposite side, which I’m about to make my way towards when Mr. Southern fucking hospitality beats me to it.
Trey stands on the opposite side of the truck, directly across from me. I let out a loud, highly bratty, and exaggerated groan, catching that sweet look on his face, brows pulled together over his eyes as he lifts his hands. He says something so low, I can’t hear over the loud whizzing of the cars passing by, probably wondering what this crazy ass is doing as I attempt to hoist myself up the back tire to gather my things.
“What are you doing?” he asks, jamming a hand back through his hair, brows furrowed as a frown spreads across his lips.
“What’s it look like!?” I shout back, snippy as fuck, letting a frustrated grumble sound from my throat as my flats slide off the sides of the tires—how high is this damn thing!? “I’m getting my shit, and I’m out.” I attempt to reach for my obnoxiously loud, pink suitcase. Whatever, makes it super easy to spot in baggage claim. Trey slides it towards him, clutching onto it, throwing me a challenging look.
“You’re not gonna talk to me?” he asks, well, shouts over the background traffic noise. Okay, this road is most def busier than I’d been thinking before when we were... Ugh!
I give up on my futile attempts to climb into the truck. What am I gonna do, anyway? Wrestle around with him to get my things? His eyes on mine, squinting as I mutter things in some sort of language I’m not even sure I understand. Spouting off the wildest insults I can muster up. “Assbag, fucknut, bitch tits, dick turd—”
“Dick, what?” He lets out a chuckle, clearly amused by this—which is so obviously not amusing—head jerking to the side.
I stick up my middle finger as he does a not-so-subtle eye roll. “Listen.” Scrubbing a palm over his face, a weird kind of pain shoots into my chest as I see the look softening around his green irises. “Please, just get back in the car, and talk to me?”
Fuck it, they’re just clothes.
Folding my arms tight across my chest. “No,” I say, simply and totally salty. Okay, I’m maybe acting a bit like a bitch here, but fuck it, I’m committed at this point. I start walking in the direction we came... can’t be that far, I’ll just hoof it back to the airport. We drove for a bit, that might not be the best plan. Where the hell am I!? I scan my surroundings, looking for a sign, a mile marker, anything to ping an Uber to.
Lifting my phone in the air, a cooler breeze giving me goosebumps, shit... left my jacket in the truck, I’m going to need that. Anyway, I stand on my tiptoes, as if the foot or so of my arm span will actually get me any cell reception. Letting out multiple huffs. “No fucking service,” I mutter.
“You’re not going to get any out here,” he calls after me, as I’m maybe ten feet or so down the tiny sliver of the shoulder that exists in East Bumfuck, or wherever the hell we are.
“Fantastic,” I mumble, trying to ignore the hint of amusement playing on his lips. I got the head bobble going on strong, spinning on the heel of my foot, loose gravel grinding into the asphalt making a cringeworthy sound.
Coming here really was a dumb idea.
“Would you stop throwing a fit and get back in?” Trey yells out, his lips curling up on one side, eyebrows raised.
“A fit?” I question with a mocking laugh.
“That’s what I said,” he claps back, mirroring my stance, arms crossing over the front of his white tee, as the smirk remains on his face.
“I’d say my fit”—ew, totally air quoted that one—“is pretty warranted. You busted a nut all—”
“I know.” Trey looks down, kicking a rock or something with his shoe, before his eyes travel back to mine. “I’m sorry about that. Like I’ve been trying to tell you, I was just—”
“Selfish,” I chime in with the last word, tilting my head, offering a shitty grin.
The look on Trey’s face changes, his soft expression shifts to a more hardened look. A scowl forming, creasing between his brows. “You can call me a lot of things, but that’s not fucking one of them.” I can tell by the heavy dose of venom in his tone that I’ve struck a nerve.
“Call it like I see it,” I clip with a light shoulder lift, my hands warming my arms, still crossed, as the sun starts to disappear. I walk the several feet towards him, dropping my palms to clamp over my hips, lifting my chin, meeting his shaking head. “Not to mention wishy-washy as fuck,” I continue, watching his jaw tense. “You want this or that. You wanna ditch me, you want me to be here, you don’t. So which is it?”
His eyes lower to mine, sucking in a deep breath, chest rising under those golden tanned arms—no, stay focused. Trey lets out a long exhale, a light groan accompanying it. “I think you’re selfish,” he says, pressing his lips together.
My jaw drops. I choke out a single cough as I stand there, gawking at him, blinking multiple times. “Excuse—”
He holds up a palm in front of him, cutting me off. “You still doing the whole honesty thing?”
“I... yeah... what?”
“Because the way I see it is, you made it clear as a fucking bell you wanted anything between us to be casual. Am I right?”
I hesitate for a moment. Wait, how’d this get turned on me!?
“Yeah. But I—”
“I said you were my fucking dream girl, and you didn’t respond.”
“I literally had just woken up.”
“You told me to take care, so I did. I took the fucking hint, Briar.” The way he says my name makes me wince. “I’ve spent most of my life always doing things for other people, going with the flow, being the nice guy... and it’s gotten me nowhere. ”
“There’s a difference between confident and cocky.”
“I know.” He sighs. “Truth is, I don’t know how the hell to act around you.” He blows out an exasperated breath. “I don’t know which version of me you want. I tried to respect your boundaries or whatever, tried to forget about you. Not that I regret anything.” I scoff. “Honestly, I feel all messed up around you. And you wanna talk about wishy-washy?” He shoves a hand towards me. “You randomly called me, which I was glad, by the way, I am happy to see you.”
I open my mouth to interject, but he keeps talking. Holy shit, this is probably the most I’ve heard this dude speak.
“But you can’t act like you want one thing and then look at me the way you did.” He gestures with his head to the front of the truck. “You can’t say shit like you miss me and no one makes you feel that way and not expect it to fuck with my head.”
“I didn’t... I didn’t mean it,” I stammer, looking away from him, my eyes avoiding his searching gaze.
“Whatever,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe you should try really being honest.”
“I think...” I mull over the thoughts in my head, averting my eyes from his, realizing that it’s all seriously a matter of wrong timing. “It’s just better if I go... clearly we aren’t on the same page.”
“No flights till tomorrow.” I groan, clicking away on the airline app. Seriously, so many all damn day and the last one, direct to Philly, is at seven.
“I’ll just drop you at the hotel,” he responds, pulling up to a gas pump.
“Fine,” I say in a sharp tone. Okay, so I do actually feel a little bad here. I mean yes, he busted a nut like what the fuck. However, I get it, I understand... I didn’t expect to feel anything. Shit, fuck, damn!
Angling his head to look at me, his light green eyes apologetic, a frown curling on his lips. “Briar, I’m sorry,” he begins, heaving out a sigh.
“Why didn’t you try to call me?” My voice comes out quiet, and if I’m being honest, a bit sad.
“I didn’t think you wanted me to,” he explains, tearing his gaze from mine, staring out the windshield.
Fuck. Talk about something that would definitely never get either of us anywhere.
“I’m just gonna... get some stuff.” I stick a thumb out towards the store as he nods.
I hear a female’s voice before I see her, standing outside of Trey’s truck, her palm pressed against his chest.
He looks over and I quickly duck down out of sight, with my hands filled with snacks and a few drinks to get me through the night, hiding. Seriously.... I’m hiding!? My shoulder leaning into the passenger side of the silver truck.
“I am, we are.” I can hear the nervousness in his voice. Are you shitting me!? “I just gotta take care of something quick, then I’ll meet you there, I promise.”
Take care of something?
“Wow,” I snap in a condescending tone, stalking around the front of the car to where Trey, and who I’m guessing is whatever skunt-stain he’s dating, are standing.
Perfect, mid-length, lighter brown hair following, waves sweeping over her shoulders as she turns her body to look at me, a confused expression spreading across her face. God, she really is pretty.
“Nah, don’t bother.” I sputter out a breath, shaking my head. “Maybe he’ll give you a better go than he just gave me.” I nod my head to the truck, lifting an unapologetic shoulder. “Hopefully you’ll have more luck”—I click my tongue—“crossing that finish line.” I shrug, zero fucking fucks.
Trey’s eyes grow large as a flash of red flushes his cheeks, shaking his head behind the woman who is now staring at me blankly, lips in a straight line. Her gaze shifting back and forth between me and him, mouth hanging open.
“Uncle Trey!” A blue car door opens from the other side of the pump, a curly haired little girl climbs out, squealing his name, running over and wrapping her arms around his legs. “Are you coming to my party?”
I crinkle my nose, eyes darting between the three of them, who look shockingly similar. Don’t even...
“Trey.” The brunette smacks a backhand against his upper arm. “You should know better than to leave anyone hanging. Not that I want to know anything about any of that.”
“I’m Teagan, this is my daughter Molly.” She tilts her head to the little smiling face, still holding tight to his leg. The adorable maybe five or six-year-old beaming up at me.
“I’m... I’m...” I stutter the words, glancing at Trey, who forces a grin, eyes still wide. My head putting it all together. I clench my teeth, mega cringe.
“Briar,” she finishes for me, shooting a smirk behind her before directing her attention back to me. Oh, my God, they look strikingly alike. I frown, opening and closing my lips, feeling like a fucking idiot.
She, Teagan, lets out a soft chuckle, extending her arm to me. I try to readjust all my road snacks, my face feeling like it’s on fire. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, already knowing what she’s about to tell me.
“I’m Trey’s sister.”
A/N: Ahhhhhahahahhahahahahaha! Oops on that one. Anyway, thoughts? Comments? Trey got a back bone. While I love Briar, I felt like it was important for his own development that he spoke his peace!
As always, thanks for reading, commenting. Sorry it took me so long, life be acting up right now and shit! 😘