Page 44 of That One Moment

“Cool, cool. Let’s move this party into the lounge,” he suggests. “Why don’t you take off your top, let me see your pretty body?”

Straight to it, I guess. My heart thuds against my ribcage and heat burns in my cheeks as I pull my t-shirt over my head. Oliver makes a grunt of approval, then scoops up his beers and carries them into the lounge. Ford is asleep on the sofa but he makes a quick exit as soon as he notices the other man.

Cooper once told me that animals can sense when a person is bad. Not for the first time do I think I should heed the warning my cat is so clearly giving me. But the restlessness I felt earlier is back. My muscles are tense, and my chest aches. I know a sure fire way to find release - he’s sitting in my lounge with his feet on my glass coffee table.

There’s a distant pain in my head still - it hasn’t quite left since the hospital and the nurse told me it's not advisable to drink too soon after suffering a concussion, but I grab the bottle of vodka anyway. Forgoing the shot glasses and taking a large gulp. The liquid burns and a shudder climbs up my spine as I swallow. I do it again for good measure. Without any food to soak it up, it quickly works through my system and I can already feel a fuzziness dulling my thoughts.

Oliver pats his thigh. A wordless command that I obey. Straddling his thighs, the bottle still in my hand, he sips from his beer and runs a hand up and down my back. We don’t kiss, I don’t allow that, so instead, he leans forward and runs his lips along my neck, moving down my body.

Bringing the glass bottle to my lips, I swallow a gasp as his lips find my nipple. He grazes his teeth along the sensitive flesh, his cock swelling beneath my ass. My own sits at half mast in my pants. Oliver moves up and bites at the soft spot in the dip of my collarbone, no doubt leaving a mark. His hands roam up my sides, then down again until he’s holding fistfuls of my glutes in his hands. My eyes close as he thrusts up, groaning as he does.

Arousal simmers at a slow burn in my blood. Not quite reaching the surface and at no risk of setting me on fire. Behind my eyelids, emerald green eyes fill my vision, and suddenly my mind betrays me and it’s not Oliver sucking a bruise into my neck, but Jamie. With my eyes still closed, I bring the vodka to my lips, pouring the cool liquid down my throat as I feel my cock swell. My head swims in alcohol and thoughts of my stepbrother.

Another large sip of vodka and I feel like I’m floating. My eyelids and limbs are heavy but it doesn’t matter because Jamie is carrying me now. I picture him laying me down on the bed, climbing over my body and gripping me tightly around the throat. He smiles and it’s seductive and sinful and my body surrenders to him, melting into the mattress. My legs part and Jamie shifts to settle between me. He kisses his way down my naked chest, to the waistband of my jeans.

“Jamie,” I say, his name, a whisper of air. He starts to undo my jeans. My heart trips and panic gnaws at my lungs as he flicks open the button and works down the zip.

“You finally letting me get a taste of your cock?” A voice that is most definitely not Jamie’s asks and I tumble back to reality, my eyes shooting open to find I’m on my bed, the lights in my room turned to dim. Brown glossy eyes staring at me in question.

Oliver. Not Jamie.

My stomach protests, the vodka swirling around like a tidal wave, and I roll over, batting Oliver’s hand from my waistband.He knows the rules. No one touches my dick. Sex doggy style, preferably in the dark. That’s it. That’s how it’s always been.

He chuckles, though there’s a tinge of annoyance in it. I work my jeans and boxers off, then bury my face in the pillows, lying on my front. My stomach lurches and I swallow down the bile sitting at the back of my throat. Oliver mutters something to himself before thick, lubed fingers enter me. Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to picture Jamie, but it's no use. All I can see are dark waves crashing, pulling and pushing, grabbing me and holding me under. I choke on the water as I drown.

Chapter Twenty

Jamie

It’s busy along the river tonight - which isn’t surprising given it’s a Friday and the early summer air is warm and humid. Weaving my way around a couple standing near the edge of the river wall, I turn left and head up a small flight of stairs, coming out on the main high street. Late night shoppers and more restaurant goers make running in this area difficult, so I hang right and head back towards the river but in the opposite direction of the restaurants.

My pace increases the further into the residential area I get. My chest protesting the way I’m pushing myself forward - my lungs burning on every inhale. Sweat lines the back of my neck and I could really do with something to drink. I worked remotely from my cramped hotel room all day, not taking a single break, so despite the pain, this feels good. I focus on the things that count right now - the movement of my feet, the length of my stride, the position of my back and shoulders. There’s no roomin my thoughts for stepbrothers, or suicide attempts, or broken hearts or girlfriends or hotel rooms or bad choices.

It’s not until I round a corner and come face to face with a familiar building, that I realise just how far I’ve run. Stopping short, I bend down and catch my breath then look up at the five storey apartment block wedged between a similar complex on the left and a large Victorian house on the right. A tall tree stands at the front like a sentry and a patch of green lawn runs to the edge of the pavement where I’m standing. Street lights paint the area in a light yellow glow and I take two steps forward, my shadow falling over the pathway that leads to the entrance of Caiden’s block.

I failed today. Failed to keep him out of my thoughts. Failed to pack a bag and head home. I hate that he hurt himself, and I’m angry. But not at him. No. It’s me that I’m mad at. I’ve practiced my apology a million times. Planned out what I’d say to him if I ever got a chance again and then when he was right in front of me, I drew weapons instead of words. Like the day at Cooper’s funeral, last night, I knocked Caiden down becauseIwas hurting.

He’s not the only one who acts without thinking. What a pair we are.

I thought about messaging him today - he changed his number when he left, but I have it now, and I could use it. I was so tempted, typing and deleting message after message before finally throwing my phone on the bed. He wants me to leave him alone and Sage could be right - she so often is - maybe that is better. I don’t believe it though - there’s something about the way he looks at me, like his eyes are begging me to stay even when his words tell me to go.

So, it’s no coincidence that I’m here now. He consumes my thoughts, and until I do something about this - until I talk to himand fix the rift between us or say goodbye for good - I’m stuck. Maybe it’s selfish, hell it probably is, but I need to see him.

Two more steps forward. And then another. And then another and suddenly, my hand is on the glass door that opens into a small lobby. I pause, looking down at my white and blue trainers and sweat soaked running top. I should leave. I shouldn’t be here. I turn to head back down the path but then turn around again, shaking my head, and pull the door open. I don’twantto leave.

Inside the lobby, I untie the black hoodie from around my waist and pull it on. It smells faintly of him as I slowly pull it over my head. Then, I run a hand through my hair in a feeble attempt to tidy what I can only imagine is a sweaty mop of brown untidy waves.

On the second floor, I hover on Caiden’s doorstep. There’s music coming from inside. A heavy monotonous beat like a record player stuck playing the same thing over and over. It’s not the angsty, indie rock I know he likes, but then again, maybe I don’t know him at all.

My fist raps against the wooden door. Once. Twice. Three times. There’s no response so on the fourth knock, I hit the wood a little harder. When no sound but the beat of the music meets me, my pulse quickens. A million and one thoughts of what could have happened to him barrel into me. I should never have left him alone.

“Caiden!” I yell, knocking again in quick, frantic succession. “Caiden! Open up.” Nothing. Just theboof boof boofof music matching theboom boom boomof my heart. Looking around, I contemplate my options - calling the police, kicking it down (unlikely), asking a neighbour for help. In the end I try the simplest thing first. The handle moves easily under my hand and the door to Caiden’s apartment swings open. Inside, the music is louder and a pair of shoes too big to be his lies in the entry.

My legs tremble as I dash towards the short corridor to the left of his kitchen, following the source of the music. As I reach his bedroom door, I stop abruptly, my vision narrowing as I take in the scene in front of me. I swear for just a heartbeat the world goes red.

Standing over Caiden’s bed, completely naked and fully erect, is a guy I vaguely recognise. He’s sipping from a bottle of beer while his nails rake red lines into the soft skin of Caiden’s naked ass. Caiden, who is lying with his eyes open, staring blankly into the distance with the side of his face pressed to the sheets. His lips part when he sees me but he moves only to wipe a strand of hair from his forehead.

There’s this buzzing in my veins, like the flapping wings of a thousand angry bees. My fists clench and unclench, then close again, squeezing so hard my nails dig into the soft skin on my palms. My jaw tenses and I know,I know, that I have no right to the turmoil of emotions igniting inside me.

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