Scarred: A New Adult Romance (The Anderson Brothers Series Book 1) (9 page)

So
my suspicions about last night were right. None of it mattered to her. It was
all a lie. How could I have been so fucking stupid?

I’ll
vent my frustrations out on Kevin. He’s the only one who will listen. The only
one I can trust.

I
remain downstairs until closing time. The crowd starts filing out of the club,
Denise and William nowhere in sight—probably long gone by now.

Thank
God.

I
hop on stage to meet Kevin, who’s busy breaking down his deejay equipment and
setting it back in the carrying cases.

“Great
show tonight, bro,” I say, slapping him on the back.

Kevin
pauses from wrapping up a cord. “Hey, Dom. Thanks.”

I
slip a few used records back in their sleeves and place them in the crates with
the rest. “I got an email saying you were going to be here tonight. Of course I
wouldn’t miss this shit for nothing, especially when it’s at one of my favorite
clubs in Seattle.”

“Aw,
thanks, man. Yeah, it was pretty packed tonight. I’m sure I’ll be back here
again real soon.”

“You
know I’ll be here.”

Kevin
beams. “Hey, you bring your girl?” He turns and looks out at the thinning
crowd.

I
stop packing away the records and feel a lump forming in my throat. “Naw, I
think she’s seeing someone. I fucked up bad, man.”

Kevin
quirks an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“I
don’t know. Last night started out okay. We went out for dinner. It was nice.
But then she started asking me questions. Trying to pry into my personal life.
I get it. She’s trying to learn more about me. But I don’t want to talk about
my fucked up past over a nice dinner.”

Kevin
frowns. “No. You don’t need to tell her that shit. She doesn’t need to know.
That’s personal shit.”

I
sigh and rub my hands over my face. “I don’t know what to do, man. I’m really
attracted to her, but she obviously wants nothing to do with me. I should just
move on, but … ”

“It’s
hard to let go, especially when a chick does crazy shit to you—crazy
good
shit, that is. You didn’t fuck her,
did you?”

I
grimace. “Seriously, man? It’s only been one date.”

“So
that’s a ‘no.’ That’s good, then. You have nothing to lose. Just move on.”

I
resume packing the records to keep my hands busy. “Maybe nothing according to
Denise, but I feel something whenever I see her. No other girl’s ever done this
to me, man. I can’t explain it.”

Kevin
shakes his head and begins unhooking cables from the mixers and turntables.
“Love’s not a one-sided thing. You’re a great guy, Dom. But she isn’t the one
for you. If she’s not interested, then move on.”

He
always makes it sound so simple—and maybe it is. Maybe I’m just thinking too
much on it.

“But
then again,” he says. “Since it
was
only the first date, maybe you just need to give it another shot.”

“I
was going to. I was about to ask her out to the movies, when her
date
showed up.” I scowl.

“Oh.
Maybe she moved on.”

I
sigh.
Maybe …

“Hey,
just ’cause she’s not interested doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with
you,” Kevin says.

“Oh
yeah? Then why the fuck can’t I ever keep a damn girl?”

“It
ain’t your fault, man. There’s someone else out there for you.” Kevin carefully
places a turntable in one of the crates.

But I don’t want someone
else. I want
her. I twist my lips sideways in thought.

“I
know that look,” Kevin says. “It’s the ‘I don’t give a shit what my brother’s
saying, I’m gonna do whatever the hell I want’ look.”

That’s
partly correct—I
don’t
give a
shit—but I
do
want to listen to my
brother. He’s never let me down before. “All right,” I finally say. “I’ll leave
her alone.”

Kevin
just nods and resumes packing away the rest of the equipment.

When
we’re all done packing, I help him load his car, which is parked behind the
club. After we finish, Kevin slams the hatch shut. “Thanks for helping, man,”
he says, then gets in the car.

I
nod. “Anytime. And thanks for the advice.”

“Eh,
you know what you gotta do.” He starts up the engine and puts it in gear.
“Later, li’l bro. Take it easy.”

“Later.”

I
watch him speed down the street until his car rounds a corner and the
taillights disappear.

There
are still a few club-goers milling around the building and in the parking lot.
I don’t see Denise or her friends.

She’s long gone, and never
coming back.

I
return to my bike and begin slipping on my gear. A group of girls nearby spot
me and wave, smiling. I catch their gazes and wave back. At least I can be
polite. Afterward, I mount my bike and reach for my helmet.

“Dominick?”

I
pause just as I’m about to slip the helmet on, and look toward Denise’s voice.
The butterflies return.

She
comes running, waving, from a small cluster of people in the lot, grinning
wide.

My
stomach does flip-flops as she stands before me. I catch a whiff of her
intoxicating pear scent. How the fuck am I supposed to move on from her?

“Oh,
hi,” I finally say in a piss-poor attempt to sound casual.

“I
totally didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” She doesn’t look the least bit
guilty.

“Likewise,
but it was good to see you again.” I glance over to the cluster of people
nearby and recognize some of them as the girlfriends who were with her earlier.
When they meet my gaze again, they all break into a giggling fit.

“My
God, he’s looking at us! Stop being so obvious, Alexis,” one of them says.

I
return my gaze to Denise, who is looking at me apologetically.

“Sorry
about that,” she says. “My friends are crazy sometimes. They invited me for
drinks tonight, so I decided to come. But it seems that their real agenda was
to see DJ Kevitron. They all have a thing for him.”

I
laugh. “DJ Kevitron’s my brother.”

Denise
blinks, then covers her mouth in shock. “Are you serious? Well don’t tell my
friends that.”

“I
wouldn’t think of it. What about you? You have a thing for him, too?”

She
shrugs. “Not really. I mean, he’s all right. But I’m sure he’s got enough girls
chasing him.”

“True
that.” I exhale, relieved to know that she doesn’t care much for my brother. It
would be all sorts of weird otherwise.

She
twists her lips like she’s trying to fight down that beautiful smile of hers.
“Hey, um, can I ask you a weird question?”

I
blink. Totally unexpected, but I’m all ears. “Sure. What’s up?”

She
bites her bottom lip, then gives me a somewhat sly, shifty-eyed look. “What’s
the engine displacement of your bike?”

I
blink. Several times.
Really
unexpected, but fucking hot as hell. Did she just ask me something about my
bike? Something
mechanical
about my
bike?

“Uh … ”
I stammer.

She
tilts her head to the side. “Don’t you know?”

I
open my mouth to answer, then stop myself.
Wait.
What if William put her up to this? Maybe he’s thinking about getting a bike,
too, to impress her. “Yeah, I know. I’m just … well … a bit surprised that you’d
be interested in that kind of thing.”

By
the look in her eye, I know William has nothing to do with this. “I was looking
up your motorcycle online. Ever since you took me on that ride, I’ve been
curious about them. You were right about how I’m missing out on some awesome
fun things.”

“You’re
thinking about getting a bike?” I ask, with raised eyebrows. I’d fucking
explode with happiness—and slight worry since she must be new to riding—if she
is.

She
grimaces. “I don’t know. Probably not anytime soon. It was fun riding on the
back of yours, though.”

I
chuckle. “I’m always up for riding if you are. As for the engine displacement,
it’s 600cc.”

“Oh.”
She nods thoughtfully. “I saw your motorcycle on a review site. It was named
one of the top ten sport bikes last year due to its ‘incredible handling and
rider feedback.’”

God,
I think I’m about to have an orgasm. “Yeah, it handles well because the chassis
is lightweight and the engine is balanced.”

“I’m
thinking about writing about motorcycles for my next lifestyle article. Maybe
even incorporate some fashion trends with it. I saw some pretty sweet jackets
for women riders.”

A
thin layer of sweat forms on my chest and up to my neck. My heart’s pounding.
Call me a fool, but there’s no fucking way I’m ever moving on from this girl
now. “That’d be cool. I’d love to read the article when you finish.”

“I’d
love to get your input, though I don’t know how savvy you are with women’s
fashion.”

I
laugh. “Well, uh, I’ll do my best to help you.”

She
looks over her shoulder, then back to me. “Hey, I need to go, now. Let’s talk
more about it later. Enjoy the rest of your night.” She turns and begins
heading back to her group of giggling friends.

She’s leaving, the tease.
Shit!
“Ah,
Denise?”

She
stops and looks back at me. “You wanna do breakfast tomorrow before class?” I
ask hopefully, my voice cracking as I try mentally to ease the pain of my
hardness.

She
scrunches her face slightly. “I don’t know yet. We’ll see. My ride’s here now,
so I gotta go. Bye, Dominick.”

Dumbfounded,
I watch her leave, the pain in my pants quickly disappearing on its own.
Did I really just get shot down?

When
she returns to her friends, a black sedan decked out with shiny rims and a
custom paint job pulls up to the curb near the group. Denise waves goodbye to
her friends, hops in the passenger side, and rolls down the window, still
chatting away with the other girls. I glimpse the driver—William. He leans over
to her and kisses her on the cheek. She smiles and seems to enjoy it a little
too much.

The
tires squeal, and the car speeds off.

Fuck
my life.

Chapter 9

I see Denise running—running from faceless men who
want to hurt her.
Kill
her. She wears
that same sparkly silver dress from the club. But she’s barefoot now, rather
than in those matching heels. I stand on one side of a glass wall, watching her
run toward me. The men are gaining on her. She hits the wall and presses her
hands against it. I stand before her, putting my hands against hers. But I
can’t feel her. I call to her, but she can’t hear me. The way she frantically
looks around, I don’t even think she can see me, either. I pound on the glass
wall, yelling her name, but she still can’t hear me. The group of men catches
up with her, and, like a trapped, defenseless animal, she spins around, her
back flat against the wall. I continue pounding on the glass, harder and
harder, but it still won’t break, and she still doesn’t seem to hear me. As her
assailants draw closer, they become recognizable.

All
of them bear my father’s face.

And
that’s when I wake up in a cold sweat.

* * *

Happy fucking Monday to me.

I
don’t think I’ve ever had a dream like that before, and I’ve no idea what it
means. But I have to talk to Denise
today
.
Hell, I have to talk to her
now
! I
don’t give a shit if she’s seeing Prettyboy William. My usual morning of
getting ready for class is marred by the dark thoughts of that dream.

Physics
class is dismissed five minutes early, and I head straight for Padelford Hall,
where Denise’s world literature class will be ending soon. I plop down on one
of the benches outside and wait for her. That stupid dream still haunts me, and
the ugly memory of it zaps my appetite, so I decide to skip lunch today.

While
I wait, I text Larry, letting him know that I’ll be a few minutes late for
work, and he texts me back with the okay.

When
I look up from my phone, I spot Denise among a cluster of other students
walking out the front doors. My eyes trace the blue sweater she wears down to
her short floral-patterned dress, which reveals her long, slender dancer’s
legs. Her messenger bag is slung across her, and she cradles a spiral-bound
notebook in her arms.

So beautiful.

I
realize I’m ogling her, and I hop off the bench before she can get away.
“Denise?”

She
stops and looks in my direction, her forehead furrowing. Then her face softens.
“Oh, hi, Dominick. Don’t you have to go to work?”

I
glance around briefly, eyeing passing students who seem oblivious to us. I step
closer to her. “I do, but I wanted to see you.”

She
averts her gaze to the ground. I could swear she’s blushing. “Dominick, I … ”

She
looks even sexier when she’s flustered. I want to hold her and let her know
it’s okay. “Can we talk? Just for a moment? There’s something that’s been on my
mind and I—”

“Sorry,
Dominick. I have to go. I’m meeting someone.” She turns to leave.

I
tense up.
William, I bet.
But the
longer I have to wait to talk to her, the more that crazy shit’s probably going
to keep haunting me. “Five minutes. I promise. That’s all, I swear.”

Glancing
over her shoulder, she purses her lips, her nostrils flaring slightly. “Fine.
Five minutes, and that’s all.”

Five
minutes is all I need to let her know how I feel. I gesture to the bench. She
sits, but scoots to the edge and looks at me expectantly.

I
sit beside her, but not too close. “Okay.” I say in a low voice as I fish for
the right words. “First of all, I want to apologize about the other night at
dinner. I didn’t mean to make you upset or uncomfortable. I just … totally
overreacted when you started asking me personal questions. I was out of line,
and I’m sorry.”