Chapter 9: Too Sweet: Chapter 9

OBE EVENING. That’s all I asked of Aisha. One evening together to catch up. I thought she’d endure a few hours since it was my birthday yesterday.

Unfortunately, I was born the same day as Aisha’s new boyfriend’s friend. Not even the peacock feather can grant me time with my sister anymore. I know it’s childish, but it represented something important when we were younger.

Not now. If not for Dad making her promise she won’t move out till I graduate, she’d be long gone. And she probably wouldn’t keep in touch.

I’m surprised she hadn’t stayed in London with Mom since it was the only place Dad couldn’t forbid her from moving to.

“Not good?” the bartender asks when I place my almost untouched drink on the bar. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh, no. Nothing, I’m just leaving.”

He offers me a curt nod, snatching the spritzer off the counter. Before I take five steps, someone wraps their hand around my middle, pulling me back.

“Not so fast, Mia,” Justin purrs in my ear, grinning when I spin to face him. “I’ll get you a drink.”

“No, thank you. I’m leaving.”

“Come on, one drink, sweetheart. Let me take you back to my place tonight. You won’t regret it, I promise.” He spreads his fingers over the small of my back, making me shudder.

“Let me go, Justin. The answer is no, and you have—”

“Until you count to three, right?” He dips his head, speaking into the crook of my neck. “I won’t be such a fucking ass about this as Brandon.”

My heart thumps faster, jinxing my ability to focus and assess our position. “One,” I mutter, though I can’t concentrate enough to plan how I’ll break free. His hold isn’t strong, but he’s angled his body away like he knows my best shot is his groin. “I’m not interested, Justin.”

“Don’t make such a big deal out of this. It’s just sex. An hour with me, and Brandon will stop plotting how to get you in bed. He’s getting creative, you know?” He drags his free hand down the line of my waist. “You won’t enjoy what he has in store for you next.”

“What does that mean? What’s he planning?”

“I wish I could tell you, but I like my teeth too much. Believe me, I’m trying to do you a solid here.”

“Two,” I say, shuddering at the thought of Brandon’s creativity. “You’d be doing me a solid if you convinced Brandon I’m not worth the hassle.”

He chuckles softly. “What’s the fun in that? I’d much rather have you so I can rub it in his face that you chose me. He’ll break you, Mia. It’s just a matter of time. You’re not escaping this.” He grips my butt, squeezing hard. A ball of nausea sinks into my stomach.

“Three.” I brace against his chest, my hands weak, mind in tumult.

I’m more concerned about Brandon’s newest idea than Justin. He won’t hurt me. He’s actually the only decent guy among Brandon’s friends.

Point invalidated by his hands groping my ass, but still… there are worse guys in Brandon’s shadow.

“We’re in public,” I remind him. “You won’t get away with touching me against my will here.”

His hold loosens before I even try to shove him back. He’s not stupid enough to manhandle me while dozens of people watch—bartender and security guard included.

I spin on my heel, aiming for the door, my heart falling to my knees. More guys from the football team lurk by the window, their amused eyes following my every move. I don’t want to check if any of them have a similarly noble idea of using me to stick it in Brandon’s face.

Maybe Aisha could wait with me for a cab…

But instead of her, my eyes find Nico, still where I left him, a look of mulish bad temper carved into his face.

I thought he left, but no… he saw the whole thing.

Of course he did. Just my luck.

Justin grabs my wrist, yanking me back. “I’d never fuck you without permission,” he growls. “I’m not a rapist, sweetheart. I’m simply giving you an alterna—”

His words die a sad death when a clenched fist connects with his cheekbone, swishing less than an inch from my face. A kind of disturbing, nonchalant violence buzzes in the air like spent gunpowder, and my stomach somersaults back, nausea in the highest gear.

“What the fuck?!” Justin cries, holding his bleeding lip. “What’s your problem, Nico?”

“Beat it, kid. She’s not yours.”

“How do you know? Maybe she is!”

Nico moves his searing gaze to me, and I shake my head, my vocal cords tangled together. All color drains from my face. Body-wide shudders don’t help me focus enough to get words out. I’ve never been more afraid of a person in my life. Not even Asher scared me as much as Nico does right now, glaring at me like some prophet about to invoke the wrath of God.

“I told you I’m not interested, Justin,” I stutter, swallowing back the bile coating my throat.

I drop my bag on the ground and sink, digging in there until my fingers come across my mouthwash. The peppermint smell doesn’t stop my hands trembling or my heart racing, but five deep breaths settle my stomach enough that I won’t puke my guts in the middle of the bar.

Just when I think I have a hold on myself, Nico crouches before me, all fire, brimstone, and death. I jerk back, startled by the sinister edge in his almost black eyes.

“Don’t make a fucking scene,” he clips, every razor-sharp word punctuated with pure disdain. “You let him touch you. Don’t pretend you’re distraught now.” He reaches for me again, but I’m so taken aback by his tone that I fall flat on my butt. “Get up. I’m taking you home.”

“No, no, I-I—” I pause, closing my eyes briefly.

You let him touch you.

I didn’t, I… I just… ugh, my head is spinning, and the thunder of my pulse gets in the way of my concentration.

I didn’t let Justin touch me. It’s just that flashbacks of the night I was almost raped seize my mind whenever someone grabs me unexpectedly.

I kicked and screamed as much as my mellow, drugged body allowed when Asher spiked my drink. I fought him, using the little strength I had, but the effect was different than I hoped. Instead of letting go, he slapped his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet.

My mind blanked.

I couldn’t form one coherent thought. I couldn’t break free or make a sound. That night, I learned I have a better chance of getting out of trouble if I remain calm and plan my moves.

That’s why I gave Brandon to the count of three before I sent my elbow flying. That’s why Justin got the same. It’s not time for them to grope me. It’s time for me to find courage, assess my position, and believe that I can break free.

“I said get up, Mia. Now,” Nico says, his words sharp enough to cut glass. “Up.”

I do as told, gathering myself off the ground as I tuck the mouthwash back into my purse. “I know my way home.”

“I bet,” he snaps, towering above me. “I won’t let you take a cab alone, so get moving. I don’t have all night, kid.”

The anger radiating off him finds its way into me, latching onto my nerve endings and igniting my mind with an unexpected burst of courage. Words I’d never normally even think roll off my tongue without hesitation.

“I’m not a kid, and you’re not going with me. Join your friends. I can take care of myself.” I walk around him, heading for the door, but he doesn’t let me get away.

He grips my arm, making me shudder for two unrelated reasons. One: I’m no longer comfortable around him, and two: an unhealthy thrill sweeps me from head to toe, contradicting the first thought. He’s riled up, ticking like a bomb, but in all his brute glowering annoyance, he’s gentle.

“I’m not asking for permission, Mia. I’m taking you home.” He ushers me outside, taking no care to make sure I keep up with his long legs. He basically drags me, but his touch is still nowhere near bruising point.

“That’s very thoughtful.” I snatch my hand free and open the door to the closest cab. “I’ll be okay on my own. I’ve done this before. Whatever your problem is, go stew somewhere else. I don’t need your attitude.”

Before I can theatrically slam the door shut, he’s there, holding it open, getting in, and forcing me to scoot over. “The address?”

“I said—”

“I know what you fucking said! Believe me, the last thing I want to do tonight is babysit a juvenile drama queen, but Cody wouldn’t be happy to know I left you alone, so be a doll and don’t fucking argue.” He pulls his phone out, his thumbs tapping against the screen. Half a minute later, he pats the driver’s shoulder. “Number nine Peony Drive.”

I want to ask how he knows my address, but there’s a clog in my throat the size of an apple. If I open my mouth, I’ll cry.

Most girls love bad boys: their charm, the aura of danger, their controlled arrogance… Aisha’s books are full of guys like that and they sell out like warm cakes.

But bad boys are only great in books.

Nico holds his jacket over his knee as we pull away from the curb. The expensive silver watch adorning his wrist contrasts the black tattoos marking both of his hands and arms.

He’s worth a fortune, but money isn’t what I’m attracted to. Or was attracted to before he made assumptions, not letting me explain.

It’s his confidence I adored. The way he knew exactly how to handle me and watched me like I was something important that should be cared for.

Disappointment floods my system, settling deep in my gut. For a moment, I thought he could be interested in me, but that ship sailed. Even if he didn’t mind the ten-year age gap, I’m not the type he goes for. He likes short skirts, big boobs, and glamorous makeup.

I don’t fit him. Not in the slightest.

He’s a predator. Tall, broad, strong. Everything about him screams testosterone: from his smell, style, and stance right down to his voice. He’s rough around the edges, his chin peppered with two-day stubble, eyes framed by thick eyebrows. Tattoos mark every inch of his upper body… and I’m like that girl from A Walk to Remember Aisha compares me to. Small, spineless.

I wish I could be more like my sister—outgoing and unafraid to act on my desires—because I’ve never felt so overwhelmed in a man’s presence.

Maybe if I had the guts to seize the opportunity, he wouldn’t be watching me like he can’t wait for the ride to be over.

“Do me a favor and stay away from my brothers,” he clips, pushing a long calming breath down his nose. “They don’t need problems, and that’s all you’ll bring.”

I stare at the back of the driver’s seat, my chest constricting again. He’s not wrong. The triplets get into pointless fights on my behalf, no matter how much I beg them not to. It takes as little as some guys calling me weird to set them off.

“You won’t talk to me now?” Nico asks, his voice dripping with annoyance. “Very fucking mature.”

My nails bite into the palms of my hands. “Why are you acting like this? I didn’t do anything wrong. I—”

“You let the guy touch you! You didn’t stop him, but you did look at me for help. I’ve dealt with girls like you before. I lived through this shit. It doesn’t end well.”

“I didn’t mean to look at you. I didn’t need help,” I force the words past my lips, though all I want to do is tuck and roll out of the moving cab. “I was looking for Aisha so she’d wait with me outside, and… I didn’t let him touch me, Nico,” I whisper the last part, not trusting my voice anymore. “I pushed him away. I just needed a moment to—”

“To what? Get enough attention on you? Maybe you didn’t let him, but you sure didn’t fucking stop him.”

God, why is defending myself so difficult? It shouldn’t be. I did nothing wrong, but thanks to Nico’s attitude, guilt sprouts in my stomach, making me feel so, so small. I should react faster. I know I should… it’s just that if I make one false move, I lose.

“It gets very noisy and overwhelming inside my head when I’m touched by someone I don’t want touching me,” I say.

The need to change his mind about me burns a hole in my chest. Or maybe the need to retaliate spurs me on.

It’s an odd, disturbing feeling. I’ve never gone down the eye-for-an-eye route before, always the one to give up, but Nico’s attitude awakens part of my character I didn’t know existed.

“Things resurface,” I continue, even though he probably already karate-chopped me dead in his mind and doesn’t give a damn about my excuses. “I get nauseous, panicky… I need a minute to get a hold of myself. A moment to push the panic down, assess my position, and find a way out.”

“It’s not rocket science, kid. You shove the fucker away, and you tell him not to touch you.”

I swallow hard, chancing a glance his way. “Stop calling me that. What did you say when you taught me self-defense? That I should stay calm because fear will choke me, correct?”

His jaw ticks, but he bobs his head once.

“That’s what I do.” I glance out the window, watching as we exit the town center. “Do you know how I met your brothers?”

Nico huffs quietly, either losing his patience or growing bored. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“More than you’ll ever understand. We may have been at the same schools since kindergarten, but we never talked until last year at Q. That night, I did what you said I should’ve done today. I pushed a guy away.” I adjust myself in the seat, toying with the hem of my skirt. “And then I kicked, screamed, and tried to fight him, even though I couldn’t hold my weight properly because of whatever he slipped in my drink.”

Nico doesn’t say a word, his unease betrayed by a nervous clenching and unclenching of both fists. I’ve got his undivided attention, and by the look of him, he knows where I’m going. He knows this story doesn’t end pretty. He probably heard about it from the triplets, Shawn, or maybe even the guy who owned Q at the time.

“The harder I fought, the worse it got. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t see a way out because I panicked. For some reason, your brothers kept an eye on me that night. And it was only thanks to them that Asher didn’t get what he wanted. When Conor pulled him off me, he already had his hands under my skirt.”

I pinch my lips, tasting the salty tears silently escaping my eyes. I hate reliving that night. I hate the scar Asher left on my thigh when he caught his signet ring in my flesh, ripping it open. I still feel his hands on me sometimes, and wake up drenched in sweat at all hours of the night. I’m not ashamed of what happened, but it doesn’t mean I enjoy talking about it.

“So, yes,” I admit, wiping my face. “I didn’t push Justin away immediately. I took a moment to assess our position and check where I could hit if saying no wouldn’t work.” The car halts outside my house, the driver as silent as Nico. “It’s not what you’d expect me to do, but I won’t apologize for keeping myself safe the only way I know how. It’s been a year, and so far, no one’s trapped me the way Asher did.” I unzip my bag, pulling my wallet out, but Nico covers my trembling hand with his.

“Look at me,” he rasps, his guilt swirling in the air like fine dust. “Please, baby… look. At. Me.”

I wipe my eyes once more, suppressing the agonizing need to let the tears run free. Faint heart never won the battle, and this is what it feels like. A battle to see who’ll come out on top. I might be weaker than a frail stem holding the weight of a sunflower blossom, but I am holding it. I won’t let Nico reduce me to a pathetic, whimpering mess.

“You’re sorry, aren’t you? Sorry about what you said, how you acted, and sorry that Asher almost raped me.” I bite the inside of my cheek, meeting his haunted stare. “That’s nice, but I don’t need your sorry. I don’t need your pity. It’s done. I could let it define me or use it to toughen up.” I take a fifty out of my wallet, passing it to the driver. “Can you wait a moment, please? I’ll be right back.”

He nods, glancing in the rearview mirror, his face a picture of embarrassment. “Sure thing.”

I exit the car, cross a narrow pathway, unlock the door, and click-clack down the hallway into my bedroom. The gift I chose for Nico’s birthday waits on my nightstand. He doesn’t deserve it after how he acted, but getting it took time, effort, and many favors. Despite how big of a jerk he’s been, I want him to have it.

When the triplets invited me to his party, I pulled all the strings to get Nico Aerosmith’s first LP in mint condition, signed by the band. You can get one online for a few hundred dollars, and I’m sure he already has one in his collection but working in the industry comes with its perks.

The LP on my nightstand, wrapped in pink paper, came straight from the band with a personalized dedication.

Moments later, I’m back standing by the car, holding the door open. Nico’s eyes meet mine, his face full of contradictions. He’s angry, worried, and… I’m not sure what I see there, but it wraps itself around me like a thick, fluffy blanket.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make your party last night.” I hold the gift out for him. “Happy birthday.”

“You got me a gift?”

“It would be rude to turn up empty-handed.” I wipe the last tears from my eyelashes, waiting for him to take it. “Almost as rude as you not accepting it.”

He grabs it immediately, frowning like he doesn’t know what to say. “Thank you.”

“Goodnight, Nico.”

The cab stays on the driveway as I kick my heels off in the hallway and sit in front of the piano, playing every song that soothes me until late into the night.