Sophomore year of high school, she walked into the building, and Chad’s first words to every guy in the school were, “Stay away from Stacey.”
The day before she moved in, he gathered every guy on the team and threatened their lives. “Stay away from Stacey or else.”
I was used to it by then. Hell, I’d made a childhood career out of making her social life a living hell. Part of it was for her own good. The rest, well, Chad and I certainly had some fun times. Bygones were bygones in college, and we were all going to live like the reverse Three’s Company.
That all changed the minute I saw the guys drool over her at the apartment. That porn incident had me clenching my fists for the first time in my life. It was a mistake, I knew, but she stuck to her guns, and I had to do everything I could not to look at her because when I did, I saw her not as a girl, but as a woman.
And then she went to the frat party.
I never had a sister, but I just assumed that was why I didn’t mind being so protective of her for Chad. It was like my mind knew I had to keep her from all the wrong guys while he was running around with Nicole.
But Dammit, Stacey had to push. She challenged me, and the lines started to blur. I fought it. I told myself she couldn’t be with anyone because no one was good enough for her, but that wasn’t true. It was because I wanted her and I knew for a fact that I couldn’t have her.
It scared the shit out of me.
I shouldn’t have crossed that line. I knew it was wrong. I knew Chad wouldn’t approve, and he acted exactly like I’d thought he would. He was right though.
I deserved it.
Just like my dad has said to me a thousand times before. I’m a complete fuckup who will never do right and only ruin the lives of the people around me.
Only difference between Chad and my father is, I absolutely deserved every mean, hurtful thing Chad said to me.
That’s why I knew I had to leave. He was right. I had done it time and again to girls, and he’d seen every one. I always felt he knew me more than I knew myself. He just proved my dad was right this entire time. I’m no good for anybody.
I couldn’t fight it because I understood why. Not only had he heard my innermost feelings about relationships and things I never wanted, but I’d also only made one promise to him. Multiple times. And I broke it.
I broke the trust of my best friend, the only real friend I had.
And now, he hates me.
It guts me to my soul, knowing I let him down. Knowing I became the man my father always said I would be. A total fuckup. I fucked up my friendship. I fucked up the only family I had. And I fucked with Stacey’s heart.
I knew we couldn’t be together, and yet I still let it happen. I let my dick lead me.
No.
I take a deep breath.
It wasn’t my dick at all with her.
It was my heart. But the heart only wants what it can’t have. I should have known that.
Moving out of our place was painful, but it needed to be done. I wouldn’t put Chad through anything else. Breaking my promise to him was bad enough.
But hurting Stacey was the hardest of all of this. I had to. I had to sever the line completely, so she’d never want me back. It was a dick move and selfish of me, but that’s me, a major dickhead.
Getting in my car, I still can’t believe I’m doing what I’m doing. Going to visit my parents is the last thing I want to do, but it’s fucking Christmas, and apparently, that’s the shit you do on the holidays—visit family and pretend you like each other.
Who am I kidding? This is a total fake Christmas. My parents went to Monte Carlo for the week between Christmas and New Year, so they’re having a celebration now with their only son to make up for it.
Gee, aint that sweet?
Their new house is in Silicon Valley. A Spanish-style mansion in a gated community, surrounded by palm trees.
I ring the bell and have to stand there for a solid three minutes while I wait for someone to answer the door.
“Wesley,” my father says when he finally does.
He’s wearing his golf attire, which is interesting because it’s supposed to be a holiday dinner. Even I came in fucking slacks.
“Hey, Dad.” I hand him the bottle of wine I brought. It’s a three-hundred-dollar vintage he likes. When I went to the Brightmores’ for Thanksgiving, I brought a hundred-dollar-bottle that Laura raved about all night. I doubt my dad will even uncork this one.
As the door closes, I notice he’s staring at me with raised brows, like he’s waiting for me to announce something.
I hold my arms out in confusion. “What’s up?”
“What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.” I search around. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Do you need money?” His words are said slowly.
“No.”
“Then, why are you here?”
The breath I take is so deep that my nose is suctioned to my face. “Because you invited me over for Christmas.”
He snaps his fingers, as if he just remembered something. “That’s right. We were going to do our little holiday thing today. That was on the calendar, but it was canceled. Did your mother not tell you?”
“What?” My chest starts to pound as I clench my jaw. I just drove for almost two hours in horrible traffic to be here on time.
“She flew out to Vail. A friend of hers is opening a gallery—or is it a restaurant? I can’t remember. She took off two days ago, and I haven’t heard from her since. I probably won’t hear back from her until next month.” He levels his eyes with mine. “You know we were just together for a week. We needed a breather.”
“Can’t imagine why,” I grunt.
“Well, I have a tee time, but you’re welcome to stay and help yourself—”
“Can’t you stay? I drove over here for a holiday that you forgot to tell me was canceled. Least you can do is sit and have a drink with me.”
“Wesley, really. You know how I hate to cancel on Mike and the guys. It’s our bonding time.”
“Fine. I’ll see you after. We’ll have dinner.”
He doesn’t even pretend to be upset as he says, “I have dinner reservations with Pamela.”
I roll my eyes. Pamela is one of the women he’s been seeing. She’s an heiress from Santa Barbara. My parents won’t divorce because of how it will look in the eyes of the community, yet everyone knows they have a horrible marriage with multiple counts of adultery against the both of them.
I turn to leave. “Good seeing you, Dad.”
“Now, wait. I can spare about ten minutes. You’re here, and clearly, you want to talk. What’s going on with you? I haven’t heard from you since the alumni game.”
I stop on the cultured stone walkway. “I took all my finals.”
“Aced them, I’m sure.”
“I think so. GPA is 3.7, last I checked.”
“Why not 4.0?” he has the nerve to ask.
I bite down and control myself. “Because I thought, Why would I want a perfect score when I could piss my dad off?”
“Wouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always fallen just shy of perfection. If you just applied yourself and stopped partying, then you would be something.”