Christina Lee - Before You Break

Jimmy placed his hand on my shoulder. “Whoa, where is that coming from?”

“Sorry, a little on edge, I guess,” I said. “He doesn’t do shit around the house anymore. He’s only interested in partying.”

“Yeah, dude’s been partying harder than me, and that’s saying something. Drinking for days on end,” Jimmy said, removing his cleats. “I don’t know how that girlfriend of his puts up with it.”

“Yeah, me neither.” My heart clenched at the thought of Ella being around Joel when he’d been drinking. Joel was more of a happy drunk, so he probably just passed out most of the time.

“Pulled that shit with the last one, too.” Jimmy tugged a clean shirt over his head. “Last year, before you moved into the house.”

I’d commuted to classes last year, but it had gotten difficult between the ball schedule, classes, and frat house events. I missed living at home, only because it allowed me the option to rebuild that engine in our garage. The reality was, I hadn’t picked up a wrench since the crash. I’d tried a couple of times, but I just couldn’t do it. I questioned whether I had it in me anymore. But something about what Ella had said to me earlier today about making time had sparked a longing inside me.

Right then and there, I promised myself I’d get back out there during spring break week. Or at least I’d give it a good shot. I’d go home, put up with my parents’ bullshit, and get busy on the one thing I used to love most. As long as I pretended it was a hobby, I didn’t catch any flack from them. Besides, I needed to finally finish the candy-apple-red paint job on the classic that I’d been restoring for years.

I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear what Jimmy had to say about Joel, but I asked anyway. “Pulled what shit?”

“When he wants to get rid of some chick but he doesn’t know how, he acts like an idiot,” Jimmy said. “The other day, he hooked up with this hot piece of ass from the bar and I told him not to bring her back to the house because he . . .”

“Wait a minute, so he’s full-out cheating on Ella?” My fists were clenched so tight, my nails were digging into my skin. “That’s some messed-up shit.”

“Whoa, man. What are you so uptight about?” I had Jimmy’s full attention now as he looked me up and down, from my fists to my tight jaw. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve got a thing for his girl or something.”

“Nope, I just have a great dislike for cheaters,” I said, trying to deflect his thoughts away from Ella and me. All I needed was a rumor to start that I was messing around with her on the side or something. She’d be crucified. But I wouldn’t mind the pleasure of kicking Joel’s ass.

“Been burned that bad by somebody, huh?” he asked, but I didn’t respond. Let him think what he wanted. They all wondered about me anyway.

“I hear you, though,” he said, spinning the combination on his lock. “Ella seems like a cool girl.”

“Yeah.” I shook my head. “What a douche.”

“When it comes to chicks, yeah,” said Jimmy, heading toward the exit doors. “But it ain’t my problem. I just want our booze replaced.”

By the time Rachel and I headed back to the frat house, everyone looked spent. The sun had been blazing hot and everyone had ended up inside with the fans pointed toward the large family room. Some of the sorority sisters had stayed and Brian’s girlfriend, Tracey, sat next to me on one of the couches. Rachel found her ballplayer and was sitting with her legs crossed on the floor next to him. Jimmy, Quinn, and a couple of other players had joined us on the periphery of the room.

Joel was on the other side of me, sweaty and groggy from the sun. I found myself staring at him—really looking at him—trying to remember what it was about him that attracted me in the first place. Sure, he was cute and charming. But could he and I really talk about things on a deeper level? Could I trust him with my feelings?

The answer came as a resounding no.

The longer I hung in there, the less respect I was starting to have for myself. Maybe others were respecting me less as well. Like Avery and Rachel. And Tracey. And Quinn. That thought alone propelled me forward.

As I took in the Sigma crest painted on the far wall, it hit me that I wouldn’t be hanging at the frat house anymore after I broke it off with Joel. I had never truly felt like I belonged here, anyway. Come to think of it, Quinn didn’t seem to belong, either—not that it mattered. It was bound to make things awkward all the way around.

All breakups were awkward, weren’t they?

“Let’s play a game,” Lucy said. We were spread out on the couches and chairs, looking worn and tired, and Joel’s eyes were slits.

At least those other girls weren’t here tonight. The ones that hung around the frat houses all the time. The ones that made me just a little bit suspicious of Joel. Had he hooked up with any of them?

“Like what?” Tracey asked. “As long as it doesn’t involve heavy drinking. I am spent.”

“How about Truth or Dare or Would You Rather,” Lucy said.

“Ugh, sick of those games,” another sorority girl named Katy said.

“I know a game,” I piped in. “We played it in high school. It’s called Five Fingers.”

I hadn’t played the game in years. Avery told me that she’d used the game to get to know Bennett on a weekend trip to one of his art shows.

“How do you play?” Quinn asked as he squeezed himself into an empty spot on one of the couches. Our gazes crashed for the first time in a couple hours. His eyes lit me up from across the room and sent the butterflies in my stomach into a drunken tizzy, slamming them against my sides.

“You ask someone a question and they have to answer in five words or less,” I said, looking at Lucy instead of Quinn. “The more you drink, the worse you become at counting the words.”

“Never heard of it before,” Joel mumbled as if he was suddenly aware I was next to him. He reached for me and attempted to pull me across his lap. My whole body went rigid. Joel was on the verge of being sloppy drunk so when he thrust his tongue in my ear, it had the opposite effect of what he was after.

“Stop it,” I pushed away from him. “Not here, in front of everyone.”

He tried shoving his hands beneath my tank top and I yanked them from under my shirt.

“You’re never any fun,” he slurred.

“If I’m not fun,” I hissed in his ear, “maybe you should find someone who is.”

“Maybe I will,” he said a little too loudly.

Everyone in the room went silent, their eyes on me, seeing how I’d respond.

Quinn’s jaw ticked and his hand balled into a tight fist. Jimmy jutted his arm out as if to hold him back. All at once Quinn yanked a pillow off the couch and flung it across the room at Joel. “Why don’t you go sleep it off, man?”

The other guys piped in, calling him a drunk and a douche, and I was saved from crawling into a hole in the ground.

“Let’s get back to the game,” Lucy said, puffing out a breath.

“We can do boys versus girls,” I said, swallowing roughly, trying to make things seem normal. “One side asks the question and everyone on the other side takes a shot at answering.”

Quinn looked longingly toward the stairs like he was going to call it a night, and I held my breath while he decided. I wondered if he would have gone after Joel had Jimmy not held him off. Was that because he disliked Joel or because of how Joel had treated me?

I needed to break it off with Joel sooner than later. No way did I need to be considered some damsel in distress who couldn’t take care of myself.

“Cool,” Lucy said and all the girls moved over to sit by me on the one side of the room. Joel was too tipsy to move, so he stayed put. But at least a few girls were crammed between us now.

“Ready?” I looked across the room. Quinn had decided to stay and I gave him the hint of a smile.

I thought of a question I’d want him to answer. I was curious about so many things. Who he’d dated. How he’d grown up. Where he’d grown up. Just . . . everything.

“Okay, five words or less. Describe your first kiss.”

The guys groaned but Quinn’s eyes met mine in a challenge. And suddenly I wished Quinn and me were all alone in the room, so I could ask him any question I wanted.

“No talking it out beforehand, just go ahead with your answers,” I said.

“Why don’t you go first, Joel,” Jimmy said. “Before you pass out on us.”

He nodded and I held up my fingers to count the words.

“Sexy redhead . . . behind the bleachers . . . tongue in my mouth before I could . . .”

I mimicked the sound of buzzer. “You went over five words, dude. Not so easy, is it? Take a sip of your beer.”

I rolled my eyes. Like you even need it.

The guys went down the line, using words that would only be found in some erotic novel—and in their wildest dream. Boobs, short skirts, hot, tongue action. Full of shit was what I’d thought. Nobody’s first kiss could be that good. The girls surrounding me were reduced to giggles, and most of the guys had to gulp their drinks.

Then it was Quinn’s turn. His eyes focused in on me. He looked sure of himself, in control, and hot as ever.

“Cousin’s friend . . . backyard . . .” Then he shrugged. “Sloppy mess.”

“Finally, someone with a reality check,” I said and motioned toward him for a high five. His eyebrows drew together right before his hand met mine in midair.

“No one’s first kiss could be that great,” he said. “You have to practice to be good at it. And not with your pillow, either.”