Flaw (The Flaw Series) (16 page)

Becca

My eyes stay glued to the flashy costumes on the screen that are sparkling and twirling in front of me. I’m parked in the leather chair that was left behind. I’m having a rare night hanging out with Aidan, now that he and Jordyn have become…whatever the heck it is. He hasn’t exactly been overly chatty about it, not that I’ve been all too interested, either. I just know he’s happy. Who knows, maybe I was wrong about Jordyn? Maybe she can be trusted.

The next pair of dancers enters the dance floor. Glancing back at Aidan, I notice him typing into his phone and not paying attention. It’s not a big deal. I know he doesn’t like the show. But I mean, it is the semi-finals; a little bit of acknowledgment wouldn’t exactly kill him.

“Josh used to watch this with me,” I say. When this season started, I had someone to watch this with. He may not have loved the show, but he watched it. He commented. And the show was ten times more fun to watch when he was here. Josh is fun. When I just let myself relax and didn’t fight over how I was feeling about him…we had the best freaking time.

Aidan tosses his phone over on the couch. “I’m watching it,” he says, his face instantly glossing over in boredom.

The commercials come on and my butt slides against the soft leather, turning to face him. “So was it weird the first time you met Jordyn’s friends and family?” I can’t avoid the subject of Jordyn forever. I’ve got to bring her up sometime, so why not now… .

“Oh, nah, we’re not there yet,” he mumbles and I immediately pick up that I’ve touched a nerve. He shifts his legs and sits up, focusing on the television. All of the sudden dogs chasing after bacon strips have his full attention.

“What about when you guys go out? I figure when you guys go out you must run into, like, a million people, being she knows everyone from school and the bar and of course all of her wonderful charity work.” The last part is said like I’m an absolute jealous bitch. But I’m a girl and I’m human. Never mind that only a few weeks ago, I spent time trying to convince myself that Aidan was more to me than just a friend.

“We haven’t really…I don’t.” He scratches his forehead and then his chin, a frustrated breath jutting out. “Your show’s back on.” He raises his eyebrows towards the screen.

He’s acting weird. I’d press it, but the next couple up is my favorite. Their mini-interview and introduction ends and the lights in the studio dim. The music begins. The Paso Doble. Awesome. My eyes are fixed on the screen with a cheesy smile plastered on my face. The blonde professional dancer stomps her way over to the male celebrity. He clasps her hand and pulls her in. The costumes are incredibly sexy with red satin flashing underneath their black capes as they move in rhythm to the dramatic song choice. I’m positive it will be ten’s across the board.
Pound, pound. Stomp, stomp
. The celebrity reaches out his hand and the female dancer grabs hold in an attempt to be swung. The celebrity stumbles and the dancer loses her grip, her satin rhinestoned butt landing on the floor. They recover enough to finish the last few seconds of the routine, but holy crap, they just blew it. My jaw drops and I twist, gasping, to see Aidan’s reaction. He’s back looking at his God damn phone. He missed it.

The celebrity blames himself and the dancer hugs him and accuses herself of making the mistake. She wipes a few tears away. They play the slip up over in slow motion.

“What? She fell?” Aidan asks, glancing backing up.

“Yes!” I exclaim. “I feel so bad. They worked so hard and the routine was so perfect and then right before it ended, they messed up. And one of the stupid judges just gave them an eight.” I actually might cry for them. “I wanted them to win so bad.”

“Calm down, Becca. It’s just a show. Why are you getting so worked up?” He laughs.

I turn back in my seat, huffing, and cross my arms over my chest. Me and Aidan have the same taste when it comes to television, with the exception of this one show. He does not get this show at all. And right now that just pisses me off.

I wish I knew someone else who watched this. My mom, a friend… anyone.
Why the hell does nobody I know watch this show?
I need my phone so I can at least go on Twitter and search hashtags. I gotta see what people are saying about this. Grabbing my purse, I reach for my phone. One missed text message.

Josh:
Are u watching this? She fell?!

Oh my God!
I stare down at the text. Stare. Gape. Gawk.

My stomach drops, getting a light and feathery feeling.
He sent me a text? He’s still watching?
I think about what to reply. We haven’t spoken since before he left. Another floppy wave fills my belly.
What’s up with my stomach?
I can’t believe he’s watching the show. He didn’t even really like it.
Is he watching because of me?
I reach down and touch the piercing in my naval, trying to hold back the spinning that’s taking place inside me. I feel an excited giggle rise in my chest as I’m about to reply.

No.

Instead I click the button on the side of the phone, shutting it off. They’ll be no texting Josh back.

This weird feeling inside me…it’s butterflies.
Mother Fucking Butterflies! Why?

“He’s a charmer.”
His mother’s own words flash in my mind, giving me the answer.

This cannot happen. If I can’t stop these feelings, these butterflies in my stomach will take over and destroy my heart.

Jordyn

It’s only spaghetti, simply boiling water, tossing in the pasta and adding a jar of sauce. But I’m in awe at the gorgeous guy cooking me dinner in my kitchen. His eyes have a gleam that reels me right in. They’ve captured me since the first moment I saw him.

“Don’t look. I’m about to add my secret ingredient,” he says, motioning with his finger for me to turn my head. I close my laptop and push it aside. No more pretending to study for now. I look away until the plate is placed down on the table in front of me.

I twirl up a small amount on my fork and wait until I’m finished chewing. “Yum, I think I know what the secret ingredient is.” It’s pepper. I can see and taste it. “Is it love?” I ask playfully.

He looks over from the counter where he’s preparing his own plate and chuckles. “That’s the main ingredient but it’s no secret.”

“No wonder this tastes so good.” I bring another forkful up to my lips.

“I was thinking about making us reservations for dinner one night. We can drive into Philly and go somewhere nice.” Aidan joins me at the table. “Maybe Saturday?”

I take the fork away from my mouth and set it down. “That sounds nice, but I was thinking Saturday we could stay in and I could cook for you.”

“We’ve been doing that a lot. I thought going out might be fun.”

I bring the wineglass up to my lips for a long sip. “That would be fun, but the city is so close and we’ll probably run into a ton of people. I’m sure we wouldn’t get a moment of privacy.”

“What are we, rock stars?” Aidan laughs. “I really doubt our privacy will be a big issue.” His face falls sullen. “I’d wear the glasses and…eh, maybe you’re right, it is best if we just stay in.”

I toss my hair back, shaking it out seductively. “The truth is I just want to have you all to myself this weekend.” I tug hard on one of the long strands.
If it’s the truth, why do I feel guilty saying it?

“Okay.” He pushes the spaghetti around on his plate with the fork. “We can pick another night for us to go out.”

“Yes, definitely.” I would love nothing more than to go out with him. Just not around here. All the local places are mind-numbing. Everybody is always in each other’s business, talking nonsense about each other. The things I’ve been approached with since becoming friends with Josh have been appalling. I always just wave the talk away. But with Aidan, I’m afraid. The talking people might do about him could be cruel. I don’t want that. “How about you let me take care of planning a special night out for us?”

“Really? Okay, I’ll let you be in charge.” One seriously sexy grin returns to his face. As he goes to take his first bite from a heaping forkful of spaghetti, he loses a strand and it lands on his shirt, leaving a trail of sauce. He shoves the pasta into his mouth and picks up the fallen strand, tossing it into his mouth as well.

“Oh, here, give that to me. I’ll pre-treat it and throw it in the wash.” I jump up holding my hand out for the stained shirt.

Aidan mashes the sauce into his shirt with his fingers. “It’s fine. You can’t even see it.” He continues eating.

“If you give it to me now, the spot will come right out. So, just give it to me.”

“Jordyn, this is a black shirt.” He looks down, “I can’t even see where the spot is. I’m not taking my shirt off in the middle of dinner so you can wash off a drop of spaghetti sauce. Chances are I’ll spill more before I’m done.”

I want to insist. Actually, I want to walk over and tear the shirt off of him so I can wash it. Lucky for him the phone ringing tears me away from my over-obsessing. It’s the house phone. That means it’s my mother. She’s the only one who calls on the landline. I excuse myself from the table, dabbing the corners of my mouth with a napkin, and grab the cordless.

“Hello sweetheart, are you busy?” she sings into the phone.

“No,” I look over at Aidan and take the phone into the other room.

We discuss business mostly, the bar, the hospital, a form I was looking over for her. I try to wrap up the conversation quickly so I can get back to my guest. Aidan yells from the kitchen, asking if I would like another glass of wine.

“Is someone there?” my mom questions.

“No, it’s just me.” I only lie because I don’t want to deal with a million questions. “Mom, I have a lot of studying to do tonight. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” We hang up and I walk back in to the kitchen, placing the phone back where it belongs.

As soon as I sit back down at the table my eyes dart directly down to the stain on Aidan’s black shirt.

He sighs. His fork clinks down on the plate and he lifts the shirt up over his head. “Here.” He tosses the shirt to me.

“Thank you.” I hold onto the shirt, taking a second to admire his chiseled chest; make that two seconds, three seconds…four.

“What happens if I spill more?” he asks in a husky voice.

My eyes remain on the magnificent ink staining his muscles. I stick the tip of my tongue out to lick my lips. “I’ll have to help you clean it up,” I purr out suggestively.

Aidan nods with a smirk, taking his saucy fork and smearing it across his left pec. “Oops.” The chair scrapes across the floor as he pushes away from the table. “Now what?”

I stand up over him and he pulls me down onto his lap, the shirt still gripped tightly in my hand.

“Let it go,” he says with a throaty whisper in my ear. His masculine scent takes over my senses, and I clutch onto the shirt tighter before relaxing my hand and dropping it onto the floor. He presses his hand into my back, pushing my chest against his, the red sauce on his upper body staining my own shirt. Jerking back I look down at the fresh spot setting on the white linen. No longer just one, now there are two marked shirts.

Does this matter?

His fingers tangle into my hair, pulling my mouth down to his. The spicy taste of pepper on his tongue adds to the fire of our heated kiss. I undo my buttons and throw my shirt down on the floor next to his. Bowing my head down, I lick the small remainder of sauce from the smooth skin over his heart. This is something I could have never imagined myself doing in a million years.

“I must really love you,” I say, reaching for his fork and adding more sauce to the defined muscles of his glorious body.

Becca

I’m the only one who hasn’t been there.

According to Aidan, everyone has been there to show Josh support. Everyone except me.

Aidan gave me the keys to his car and urged me to at least stop by, even if it was only for a quick visit.

Sitting in the parking lot I stare up at the brick building with the large blue cross. St. Peter’s Hospital. What do I even say when I see him? It’s been over a month since I’ve seen him. His father was admitted a week ago and I never even called him. I grab the crinkly bag from the passenger seat before stepping out of the car. A wave of nausea hits as I walk through the automatic doors and check in at reception for a visitor pass.

Still unsure if being here is the right thing, the security guard, a short older man with big eyes peering through thick glasses, mistakes my hesitation as confusion and walks me over to the elevators. He looks down at my pass, steps in, and pushes the correct floor for me. “Make a left once you step out of the elevator and follow the blue arrows along the floor. They’ll take you right where you need to go.”

“Thanks,” I mutter. My heart sticks in my throat as I watch the numbered buttons light up until it reaches the fourth floor.

The room I’m looking for is written on my pass in thick black marker. I follow the arrows like instructed and search for room 425. Clicks, beeps, coughs, and moans come from the darkened rooms.

When I reach my destination, I carefully peek my head into the room. I can see one bed is empty and a curtain has been pulled around the other, giving privacy to the patient. There’s motion behind the curtain and I step away from the doorway. This was a bad time to come. Maybe I don’t even have the right room. My head tips back, hitting the hallway wall and I close my eyes, wondering if I should just leave. Am I better off calling Josh or sending him a text? He probably doesn’t even want to see me.

“Becca?” A hand grazes my shoulder, causing me to jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Oh, Helen. Hi, how are you?” I reach my arms out to hug Josh’s mom. She squeezes me in tightly and plants a kiss on my cheek. “I’m so sorry. How is Mr. Brewster?” I feel funny calling Josh’s dad by his first name being I’ve never officially met him.

“We still don’t know how bad it is. The doctors said it was a massive stroke. We’re still discussing the different options for his recovery.” Helen sighs. Her eyes are weighed down with black circles. She looks weary and exhausted and I feel the strong need to lean over and hug her again. The bag I’m holding crumples against her back.