Scarred: A New Adult Romance (The Anderson Brothers Series Book 1) (5 page)

“Hey,
man, you just gonna sit there all day?” I ask, heading to the kitchen.

Chris
munches loudly, but doesn’t reply.

I
pour myself a bowl of cereal and join him on the couch. “You should’ve come
with me to the club last night. Ran into some hot chicks that would’ve loved to
take you home.”

He
glares at the TV, still chewing.

I
wave the napkin Adrienne gave me in front of him. “I even got one of their
numbers.”

Fuming,
Chris slams his plate down on the coffee table, milk sloshing out of the top.
“What the fuck, Dom? Gonna rub that shit in my face now?”

“Nope.
Not my type. Got nice tits, though.” I let go of the napkin and watch it
flutter onto his lap.

Chris
picks it up and stares at it. “‘Adrienne’ … You managed to get her
number
?”

“Yup.
Got it while thinking how to help your sorry ass yet again.” I smile a little
at the shock on his face.

Chris
gets a hold of himself. “Dude, you did this for me? I … thanks. Sorry for
being such a dick about things.”

“Mildly
speaking.” I finish my cereal.

“You
said she’s got nice tits? What’re her measurements?” Chris’s eyes widen with
intrigue.

“Uh
… I dunno. Forty inches, maybe?” I throw some random number out there. I’m
definitely
not
a boob connoisseur.

He
looks thoughtful for a moment, then narrows his eyes. “Chest or band?”

“What?”

“Chest,
then.” He does some counting on his fingers. “The way you make it sound, she’s
pretty big, so I’m thinking maybe around a thirty-five band.” His eyes suddenly
go wide. Dude! You realize that’s probably a double-D cup?”

I
blink. Several times.
Did he just
calculate her bra size in his head?
It amazes me that Chris practically has
this down to a science.

“Are
they real?”

I
shrug. “Never said they were real. I honestly have no idea. Guess you’ll have
to find that part out yourself, now won’t you?”

“Damn
right, I will!” He springs up from the couch and marches to his room, napkin in
hand.

The
old Chris is back. Never thought I’d actually be glad about it.

* * *

Noon rolls around and I can’t take it anymore. It’s
seven hours till my date with Denise, but I really want to call her to hear her
voice again. I dig the folded paper out of my wallet and hastily dial her
number. She answers on the third ring.

My
heart pounds. Her voice is beautiful on the other end. “H-Hi, Denise. It’s
Dominick.”

“I
thought I told you to call me when you’re about to leave?”

I
bite my bottom lip. I can’t tell if she’s just joshing me or really annoyed
that I called too early. “Sorry, uh, if you’re busy, I can go …"

I’m
met with silence on the other end.
Did
she hang up on me?

“No,”
she finally says, and I exhale a quiet sigh of relief. “I got back from the study
group not long ago. But I have to go do laundry in a bit.”

“Okay.
Well, I’ll let you go do that. You still up for the date tonight?”

“‘Date?’
I thought we specifically agreed on ‘dinner,’ not a ‘date.’” I can practically
hear the smile in her voice.

“Isn’t
it the same thing?”

“Not
quite, but I’ll let it slide for now. So we’re still on for Jade Fusion?”

“Yep.
I’ll see you around seven.”

“I’ll
be waiting. Later, Dominick.”

I open
my mouth, trying to think of something more to say, trying to think of a way to
keep hearing her voice for a little while longer, when I’m met with the buzzing
sound of the ended call.

My
heart swells with excitement. How ridiculous is this? I feel like I’m back in
high school on my first date. I haven’t gone out on a date—a
real
date—in months, maybe even a year.
The few girls I ended up with since starting college turned out different than
I expected, and they all moved on to the next guy.

But
Denise seems genuine. Like the girl I always wanted in my life but could never
get.

With
seven hours to spare, I can’t keep still. I call the restaurant and make
reservations, and then rummage through the clothes in my closet for the white
button-down shirt that has my motorcycle club’s emblem embroidered on the left
side. The graphic is small and abstract, like a tattoo design. I also find a
pair of casual black pants. With the clothes draped over my arm, I head to the
kitchen, grabbing the iron and ironing board from the hall closet along the
way. While I’m unfolding the ironing board, Chris’s door creaks open from down
the hall.

Chris
stops at the kitchen doorway, his phone in one hand, and a bright smile on his
face. I’ve not seen a smile that wide on him in a very long time. He’d been in
his room all morning on the phone, so I assume his chat with Adrienne went
well. But as soon as he notices me ironing, his glow turns to curiosity. “Holy
shit, we have an iron?”

I
roll my eyes. “You mean
I
have an
iron.”

“Right.
So what’s up with this?”

“I
told you, I have a date tonight. We’re going to Jade.”

“The
Asian place?” He whistles. “All the girls seem to like eating there.”

“It’s
got atmosphere.”

“Heh.
Well, you must really love this new girl or something.”

I
smile.
Sure feels like it.
I turn the
heat setting to Delicate to iron the shirt. “What’s up with you and Adrienne?”
I look back up at him in time to see him beaming again.

“Well,
at first, she was like, ‘who’s this creepy guy calling me?’ so I let her know
what was up. Put the charms on her, y’know.”

I
guffaw.

“She
wondered where ‘the guy from the club’ was, and I told her you were my
roommate, but a bit of a flake, and to not expect you to call her.”

I
reset the iron and glare at him. “You what?”

“Hey,
I had to think of something, dude.” He shrugs. “Anyway, we swapped pics, and
she sounded totally interested. Even said I was hot! Can you believe it?”

Picking
up the iron again, I resume pressing my shirt. “No, I honestly can’t believe
it.”

He
gives me the finger, but I ignore it.

“We’re
going to the movies tonight, then to one of her girlfriends’ house parties.”
Chris’s face lights up. “Dude! You should bring your new girl, too. We can make
it a double date.”

I
gawk at him. “You can’t be serious.”

Chris
laughs. “I’m telling you. We can show off our hot new chicks at that party.”

“Naw.
I’m taking things slow. I’m not gonna fuck up this date. And how the hell do
you know if Adrienne is hot? You haven’t even seen her.”

“I
told you, we swapped pics. Holy shit, she looks amazing!”

I
shut the iron off, set it aside, and carefully fold my shirt and pants. “How do
you know the picture is even real? She could’ve manipulated it or something.”

“Nope.
This pic is as real as it gets. Look!” He shows me his phone.

The
picture is his current wallpaper. It’s definitely Adrienne. She’s wearing the
same red dress from the club. She strikes a teasing selfie pose, angling the
camera in such a way that it looks like the top of her dress is barely covering
her tits. The peaks of her nipples create small beads beneath the fabric. I
wonder if she took that picture last night? Probably intended to send it to me
whenever I called. I’m glad it’s Chris who got the pic and not me. “Yup. That’s
definitely her, all right.”

Chris
nods. “No kidding! Oh, and her boobs are a single D, not double. She looks
between thirty-five and thirty-eight inches. But they are most definitely all
real.”

I
arch an eyebrow. “You can tell all that from a picture?”

“Of
course I can! I’ve seen and felt enough of them to know the difference.”

I
shake my head. “Right. Well, hopefully, for your sake, she’s a keeper.” I pause
and cast him a look. “You
are
going
to try and keep her, right?”

He
stiffens. “I dunno. That depends on her. Why are you so insistent on me keeping
a girl? It’s getting old.”

“Because,
frankly, I’m sick of your shit every time you dump a girl the day after
sleeping with her.”

“I
don’t dump them. They dump me.” He grimaces, perhaps realizing how utterly
pathetic that sounds.

“Yeah,”
I say, “they dump you because they find out you were sleeping with five other
girls just hours before them.”

“Dude,
get off my back about it, all right? I’ve yet to find ‘the one,’ and I’m not
ready to settle. Not everyone’s all prim and proper like you, Dom.”

I
grunt. “I’m far from being a saint, but I also don’t want to be known as a guy
who fucks anything that moves, either.”

Chris
narrows his eyes at me. “What the hell are you trying to say?”

“I’m
saying to just give Adrienne a chance, will you? Please?”

“Well,
she’s my new wallpaper now, so that’s a start, ain’t it?” He looks at his
phone, and the annoyed look on his face lifts.

I’ve
known Chris since high school, and he never sets a picture of a girl as his
wallpaper unless he’s really interested in her. Perhaps there is hope for him,
but I’m not holding my breath. “Fair enough.”

“I
told her to come by here. She’ll be over in an hour or so.”

My
jaw drops. “What? Why the hell did you do that?”

He
gives a light shrug and heads for the living room. “She insisted on coming over.
Who am I to reject a girl with such beautiful boobs who thinks I’m hot?”

“You’ve
lost it, man.” I shake my head.

“What
can I say?” Chris says from down the hall. “That girl makes me
crazy
! Now help me clean up the living
room, will you?”

Chris? Cleaning?
Maybe he really
has
gone
crazy.

* * *

The five hours remaining feel like an eternity. I
sprawl on the couch with the TV on, but I’m too distracted to watch it. I can’t
stop thinking about Denise. I want to call her again, but I restrain myself.
The last thing I want to do is creep her out with my constant calling. Besides,
she’s probably busy doing laundry. I wonder what she’s gonna wear to dinner.

A
sudden knock at the door makes my heart race. I spring up from the couch, rush
to the door, and peer through the peephole.

It’s
Adrienne.

She
knocks again, and Chris suddenly yells from behind me, “Got it!”

I
jump and spin around.
Where did he come
from?

Chris,
wearing one of his favorite pro football jerseys, pushes me aside. “I told you,
I got it.”

I
take the opportunity to disappear. “Keep her away from me,” I mutter then head
for the stairs. I hide in the stairway and listen. When I hear the door open, I
peek around the corner.

Adrienne
enters wearing a short denim skirt and a white spaghetti-strap camisole, which
strains to accommodate her large tits. She furrows her thin, penciled eyebrows
at Chris as she slowly walks around in black, open-toe stilettos, assessing him
like a doctor diagnosing a patient.

I
could swear I see Chris wipe some drool from the side of his mouth.

Adrienne
finally stops in front of him. “Chris?”

He
gawks at her, as if she has him under some magical spell. “Yeah … That’s me,”
he says breathily.

She
grins. “You look even hotter in person.”

You’ve
got
to be shitting me.

“Yeah?”
Chris winks. “Well, you know. I aim to please.”

“So
where’s that flakey roommate of yours? I kinda wanna put my foot up his ass for
not calling me like he said he would.” She says this so innocently, it’s a
little frightening.

“Ah,
you just missed him. He’s a bit unreliable and scared as shit of girls.
Especially the beautiful ones.”

I
clench my jaw.
Fuck you.

Adrienne
flicks a lock of her ebony, red-streaked hair from her face. Her stylish bob
looks like she just left the salon before coming here. “Shame, ’cause he was
cute. Probably has a nice ass, too. Too bad it’s going to have an imprint of my
foot on it when I see him again.” She crosses her arms and cocks a hip.

Chris’s
eyes are clearly drawn downward, most likely to her tits. “Uh … y-yeah, Dom’s
such a dick, isn’t he?” He looks up for a moment, and then his gaze drifts
downward again. “Can I, uh … get you something to drink? Water? A beer?
Milk?”

I
roll my eyes.
Oh for fuck’s sake.
He’s going to blow his chances before the date even starts.

Surprisingly,
Adrienne laughs. “No, thanks. I am a little hungry, though.” She leans up
against the back of the couch, her arms still crossed. “How does Chinese
sound?”

Chris
manages to lift his eyes again. “Sounds great. So this is officially a date,
then?”

“It’s
lunch.” Adrienne uncrosses her arms. “You’re not just some guy looking for a
one-night stand, are you?”

“Yes—I
mean—no!
Hell no
! Fuck it, let’s go
eat.” He takes Adrienne by the arm and leads her out the door.

I
remain in my hiding place and listen to the muffled sounds of car doors
slamming and an engine starting. The sounds fade into silence, and I come out
from hiding.

I
can’t believe that actually worked.

Chapter 6

Six thirty can’t come fast enough. I fiddle around
with the GPS maps on my phone to find the quickest route to Denise’s house. She
lives only ten minutes away, and not far from downtown, where the restaurant
is. I give myself one last check in the mirror and remember to grab a spare
helmet out of the closet on my way out. As I start up the engine, I suddenly
have a thought: what if she’s afraid of motorcycles? I guess if she refuses to
ride with me, we could just take her car. I’m willing to do whatever it
takes to spend time with her, but I hope she won’t be scared to ride.