Flaw (The Flaw Series)

Copyright © 2014 Ryan Ringbloom

All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without the prior written permission of the author, with the exception of short quotes for purposes of review.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Edited by Ebook Editing Pro -

Lisa, Thank you for knowing all the words I totally meant to say! -Ryan

ISBN: 9781483517629

The BF – Jennifer Weiser

The Brother – Erik Jack

The Pimp – Christina Gobin

The Annotator – Shealy James

The Reader – Rachael Bailey

The Guider – Sussu LeClerc

&

The Original – LoriMarie LaSpada

I couldn’t do this without you guys. You all encourage and inspire me to keep dreaming and reaching. I am beyond thankful for each and every one of you!

To the Ringbloom Men, Jeff & Will: I love you!

Part One

Josh

“Let’s go back to your place.”

I make the suggestion into the darkness of my car once she leans over the front seat and her hand lands right in my lap. Her place or my car are pretty much the only two options there are, being that my place is still my parents’ place.

“We can’t go to my apartment. My roommate is having people over.” She leans in, drunk and giggling, wanting to be kissed.

I back my face away from her smeared red lips and look down. Enough with this game; it’s time to shut her up. “Well then, go ahead.”

“Really?” Her eyes follow mine to the front of my jeans and she frowns. The intoxicated giggles come to an abrupt stop. All of a sudden she’s not quite so drunk anymore. “You want me to just do that right here? In the car? What if someone sees us? The bar is right there.”

“No one will see us.” Someone might, but I don’t give a shit. Basically, I just want her to give me head and hit the road.

She swings her blonde hair around, glaring out the window, trying to make up her mind on how low she’ll stoop. “No,” she shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

If college has taught me anything over the last few years, it’s that God damn college girls think they are too good to hook-up in a car. It was a whole lot easier in high school to convince a girl to make bad decisions in this Mustang than it is now.

“Are you sure, beautiful?” I ask, in one last attempt to try and persuade her. Usually meaningless words are all it takes to seal the deal. She bites her lip, wavering, still unsure. A small group of girls walk out of the bar, their laughs and chatter getting louder as they approach their car, which is not far from where I’m parked. She looks over at the girls and shakes her head. All that work getting her out here and now she’s gonna bail on me.
Shit
.

“Sorry, I really just can’t. Not like this. But after we go out next weekend I’m sure we’ll be able to find a better place where we can be alone,” she says.

She says that because I promised to see her again when we were sitting at the bar. I gave her my standard, “You’re beautiful and I want to take you somewhere special next weekend.” I lied about both things. This girl is a six. If her boobs are real, maybe I can bump her up to a seven.

“All right, well, I guess we’re done here, then.” I let my annoyance be known. No need to pretend anymore.

She opens the car door, hesitating before stepping out. I know exactly what she’s waiting for. She’s waiting for me to ask for her number. Tell her when I’m gonna call and make plans for that special date. Never gonna happen. The sweet talk and false promises are for before, when I’m reeling her in. Not now.

“Have a nice life,” I say, starting up the car, pressing my foot on the gas pedal. The loud rev it makes adds nicely to the whole dickhead effect I got going on.

Her mouth hangs open in disbelief for a brief moment. “Asshole!” The car door slams shut. Two things. They always call me asshole and they always slam the door. I shrug it right off and watch the trashy short skirt and high heels go storming out of sight.

Sliding the key out the ignition, I exit the car and head back into the bar. Looks like I’ll be settling for the other one, the blonde with the smaller chest whose desperate eye contact I tried avoiding all night while I hit up my first choice.

The small boob chick lights up with a big smile when she sees me come back in the bar. I run a hand through my thick hair and slap on a seemingly interested grin. Time to let her know it’s her lucky night.

Aidan

“You always look so motorcycle-y for a guy who doesn’t have a motorcycle.” Becca makes one of her typical, random Becca observations.

“What does that mean?” I have no idea why I’m encouraging her.

“Just that you always wear black and your coat with the hood and those big white sneakers you always pull the tongue out of,” she says. “No one would ever suspect that you drive a boring gray Civic.”

“Yup.” I acknowledge her silly statement and shove the orange juice back into the fridge. She hops up onto the kitchen counter, reaching out so she can rub her hand over my buzz cut.

“I’m gonna be bored when you’re at work tonight.” Her rub turns into scratching. I close my eyes, enjoying the way it feels. “I hate when you have to work a late night.”

“Well, I’m more of a night time guy than a day time guy.” I pat the left side of my gruesome face and she frowns.

“Stop,” Becca scolds, pushing me away. She doesn’t like when I make comments like that, however true they may be. Becca lives across the hall but more of her time is spent over here in my apartment. Hanging out, watching TV, and mooching through my fridge for something to snack on.

“I’m sure you’ll find something to do tonight.”

“Yeah, I guess I could study for a while. I have a class in the morning and then amazingly, I was scheduled some hours to work in the afternoon. I swear they’re getting so chintzy with the hours lately. I’m gonna barely make my rent this month. I don’t even know why I bother anymore at that stupid place.”

“So then, you should look for a different job.”

“No way,” she squawks. “I love that job.”

She works in a card store that she spends most of her time complaining about, but the minute I say anything against it, she claims to “love it.” This is why I usually don’t voice my opinion on things with Becca. She already has too many conflicting opinions of her own going on in her head. I can’t keep up.

“Toss me the keys to my boring car, please.” I hold my hands up to catch her lousy throw.

“Do you want me to wait to watch Dancing?”

“No, actually, please watch it while I’m at work.” Watching celebrities dance is torture. She knows I feel this way. Sometimes she says things just to say them.
Pain in the ass
.

“Are you sure?” she teases. “I know how much you love it.”

Becca loves being silly. If I didn’t love her so much, it would drive me crazy. I mean it…bat-shit-crazy. Luckily, I do love this girl and have built up a tolerance for her nonsense.

“Goodnight.” I lift her pink-hued bangs and place a kiss on her forehead, ready to head off to work.

“Goodnight,” she says, sighing, tugging at the strings of her fuzzy pajama pants.

I grab my duffel bag off the counter and toss it over my shoulder, pulling the hood of my coat up. To cover up even more, I reach for my trusted pair of aviators, slipping them into place. It’s a quick walk to my car, but I don’t want to risk frightening anyone. I take a bottle of water for the road before walking over to the door.

“Wait.” She runs over, stopping me for one more hug. “I love you.”

Instantly, comfort washes over me. Every time she says it, it takes me to a secure place, a place where I’m content with my new life and thankful for this person who loves me.
The only one
. I pull her in tight against my chest.

“Me too,” I say.

Pretty, pink, and silly,
my friend Becca,
I don’t know what I’d ever do without her.

Josh

Roommate wanted

I fold the ad and shove it in my back pocket. “Can’t you trust me to check this place out on my own?”

“Son, I just don’t want you signing anything you don’t understand.” My dad puts his hand on my shoulder in that supportive fatherly way.

“Sweetheart, I don’t understand why you want to leave.” My mom’s sniffs turn into weeping before she even finishes the sentence.

“Mom, it’s not that I want to leave.” I have to look away from her. The tears are killing me. I love my mom. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. But living at home has become a total cock block and I can’t exactly tell her that’s the real reason I want to move out.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” my dad asks. His face shows all too well that he doesn’t think I’ll be able to handle being out on my own. That only pushes me to want this more.

“Guys, I’m twenty-one. I think I can handle living in an apartment.” I hold up my cars keys, jiggling them as I go strutting away.

“How do you plan on paying for this apartment? Are you planning on getting a job?” my dad calls out to me and my mother gasps. My feet stop and I whip around to face them.

“Joshua, no. No job. Focus on your studies.” My mom uses two hands to swat my father’s upper arm. “Why would you say that to him?”

Shit. A job?
No, I hadn’t planned on getting a job. I figured… I thought…hmm. I guess I didn’t really think about it. “Yeah, I’m gonna get a job.”

The statement nearly causes my mother to faint, but my father puffs up a bit, proud that maybe I’m finally stepping up. I haven’t exactly given him much to be proud of. I enjoy watching sports but was never an athlete myself. I played one year of soccer and hated every minute of it. Once I became aware of the opposite sex, my good grades fell to average. And more times than I’d like to admit, my reputation as “an asshole” has resulted in a bruised up, swollen face that I could never explain to my parents. I never understood why the boyfriends always came after me. Hey - It’s not my fault your girl’s a slut. But I’ve never been one for fighting back.
I’m a lover, not a fighter
.

My mom stops me in front of my car and wraps me up in a big hug. She stretches up on tiptoes, lifting her plump frame, so she can tell me something privately. “We’ll give you whatever money you need,” she whispers in my ear. “You know that, right?”

I nod my head. Thank God for Mom. She takes good care of me, always knowing what I need. And well, I am still gonna need their money for a while. With school and everything, it may be a long time before I can find a good job.
Doing what, I have no fucking clue
.

Less than fifteen minutes later, I’ve traded the cushy part of the Pennsylvania suburbs for the cluttered, bustling downtown. I park between two cars on a street lined with small shops and restaurants. Shielding my eyes from the glaring sun, I search for number three twenty one, and find the door in a narrow entrance next to an alley that’s right in between a hardware shop and a Chinese restaurant. All right, not too bad. I could eat Chinese food every day. That’s a total plus right there. The door opens up to stairs, and one long flight later I’m in a hallway with four doors, two on each side, with letters nailed to the front. I knock on the door with the crooked C and wait for the guy who posted the ad looking for a roommate to open up. Hopefully he’s normal and will think I am too, so I can move in as soon as possible.

The door flies open. “Hey.” I’m greeted by the guy standing in the doorway.

My eyes immediately dart away from him. Staring down at my feet, I mumble a hello back to him. What the hell happened to this guy? He’s all sorts of banged up. The quick glimpse I got of him showed one nasty ass scar covering half of his face and a messed-up eye.

“Just get it over with,” the guy directs me. “Take a good look. If you can get past what you see, you can come in and we can talk about the possibility of you being my roommate.”

“What? You have a scar. I don’t give a shit. That’s cool.” I swallow and a nervous chuckle escapes. “Did that sound believable?”

“Not really, but come on in.” The guy reaches for sunglasses off a small table by the door. He slides them into place over his mangled face, making it a little easier to look up at him. “I’m Aidan Turner.” His hand reaches out to shake mine. My knuckles crack under the tight squeeze of his grip.

“Josh.” I step inside and give the small apartment a once over. There isn’t much to the place. We’re standing in the living area and to the left is the small kitchen. It’s too small to even have a table. There’s a marble counter separating the kitchen from the living area with two tall stools in front of it. The whole place reeks of Chinese food, but I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Aidan walks me over a few steps and opens one of the three doors along the back of the apartment. “This is the available room.”

I step in and look around. It’s dingy and bare, with small heaps of dust piled on top of the scratched hardwood floor in the corners. The room is so small I wonder if it will even fit my king-size bed. We step back out and Aidan pushes open a door to a bathroom that’s covered in filth. The toilet seat is up, towels are thrown on the floor, the sink has whiskers and a ring of shaving cream coating it. I usually leave the bathroom the same way but Mom’s always there to clean it up. Who the hell is gonna clean this up?