Scared of Forever (Scared #2) (15 page)

Walking over to grab a
drink, I eventually see her without her annoying other half. She’s
talking to a very elegant and attractive girl, about our age, and her
date, possibly the only guy in here who looks more uncomfortable than
I do. She looks so comfortable in their company that I assume they
must be friends. I walk over and tap her on the shoulder gently.

I’m thrilled when her
eyes light up as she turns around and sees me. “Tyler!” she
exclaims. “What are you doing here?”

“Making my compulsory
one night only public appearance,” I say with a smile.

“Oh. This is Maia,
and Jackson,” she says, stepping aside to introduce me to the
couple. “Maia is really involved with this charity. Guys, this is
Tyler, Blake’s brother.”

“Nice to meet you
both,” I say with a warm smile and a nod. They both smile friendly
and, hallelujah, sincere smiles. “It’s a great cause,” I say,
looking up at the large banner over the stage.
An initiative to
stop domestic violence in our community.

“It’s ironic,”
the girl says to Emily, “that most of the domestic violence victims
in this community are standing here next to their husbands, smiling
as they write checks to help stop it.” There is a clear sadness in
her eyes. Jackson puts his hands protectively around her waist and
kisses her temple.

I stay and chat with
the couple and Emily. I find them to be so down to earth.
It’s
refreshing
. Jackson and I immediately hit it off. When
Emily and Maia leave to the ladies room, he and I stand at the bar
and continue to talk. Blake is at the opposite end of the room. I’m
sure he’s so self-absorbed and fixated on networking that he hasn’t
even noticed me yet. Jackson clears his throat.

“Sorry,” I
apologize, turning back towards the bar.

“No problem, I just
figured that I’d distract you from wanting to kill him, that’s
all,” Jackson says with a small smile.

“Is it that obvious?”
I ask.

“To be honest, I
tolerate Blake because he and Maia are friends. That’s not to say
that he didn’t try to get in her pants a few months ago,” Jackson
says.

“He has a habit of
doing that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m
glad he got past it, otherwise I might have been moved to break his
fucking neck,” Jackson says with a scowl.

I laugh.
I
like this guy
. He sees through Blake. Not many people have
that ability.

“And Emily’s a
great girl,” he adds.

My eyes trace the path
that her and Maia took to the powder room. “So what do you do,
man?” I ask Jackson, distracting myself.

“I’m at Brown, Maia
and I both are,” he says. “I’m from Atlanta. These bullshit
parties really get on my nerves. I only come because Maia has a
foundation that deals a lot with these assholes.”

“I hear you,” I
say. “I’ve been to every corner of the world to get away from
this shit.”

“So, you’re nothing
like your brother, then,” Jackson surmises.

We both glance over at
Blake, who is talking animatedly to a grey haired man and his wife.
They all look like idiotic jack-in-the-boxes, laughing at each
other’s every sentence.
Ten to
one he hasn’t even noticed that Emily is not standing next to him.
But I am willing to bet my every last dime, and I have a lot of
dimes, that when the photographers outside come storming in to take
photographs, or crowd around outside next to the exit at the end of
the night, Blake will make sure she’s right there with him.

Maia and Emily leave
the restroom, but instead of walking back over to us, they find a
seat at a table across the room. Jackson and I continue to talk, both
of us happy that we’ve actually managed to find decent conversation
in this suffocating place.

“How are things with
Blake?” Maia asks, washing her hands. Just as I’m about to
answer, a woman walks out noisily from one of the marble tiled
stalls. I avoid answering, knowing that gossip spreads in this town
quicker than wildfire.

We walk out together,
but rather than go back to Jackson and Tyler, we find a seat in the
far corner of the expansive ballroom. From my vantage point, I can
see Blake, guffawing at some old lady’s presumably hilarious story.
I can also see Jackson and Tyler standing casually, still chatting at
the bar where we left them.

“Jackson seems to be
getting along well with Tyler,” Maia observes. “I’m glad. He
usually spends these things pretending to enjoy himself, while
silently cursing everyone around him.”

Across the room,
Jackson laughs at something Tyler says. “Tyler is very likeable,”
I sigh. “He’s nothing like Blake.”

Maia laughs. “Are you
saying your fiancée is unlikeable?”

“No,” I defend
quickly. “I’m just saying that more and more, I’m feeling like
Blake is not really the person I want to spend the rest of forever
with.”

“Does it have
anything to do with him?” Maia asks, nodding her head towards
Tyler.

“Maybe a little,” I
admit guiltily. “Blake is public enemy number one to Tyler, and
vice versa. Both of them are so interested in this pissing contest to
best each other all the time. Tyler has been so nice and kind. And
Blake is, well Blake is the man I am supposed to be marrying. It’s
all so confusing. Blake wants to marry me. So I know he cares
genuinely for me. And Tyler, well, I can’t really tell whether
Tyler is taking such an interest in my friendship because of me, or
because he lives to piss his brother off. Why else would he show up
here tonight?”

“Blake is my friend,”
Maia says. “But after lunch last week, you know how I feel about
your relationship. And I can only tell you what I see. I see Blake,
who at this very moment reminds me a lot of my father. Working the
room. Socially in his element. What I haven’t seen is Blake
actually scanning the room, looking for you. And I’m guessing Tyler
is here
because
of
you. Even before he walked over, I noticed him because he’s a new
face. And all he did was scan the crowd. He looked relieved when he
walked over to us earlier.”

Maia looks pointedly at
me. “And I also didn’t miss the way your eyes lit up when you saw
him, either. Em, you will end up hurting someone here. It’s
inevitable. But being with Blake, if there’s somewhere else you’d
rather be, isn’t right either. How did you manage this Em, getting
your feelings trapped in the middle of two brothers like this?”

I shrug miserably. I
don’t even know the answer to that myself to be able to give it to
Maia. A waiter strolls past us and I grab another glass of champagne
from his tray. I knock it back quickly, though I don’t even usually
drink. But as the jumbled thoughts try to sort through themselves in
my head, I find that having the glass in my hand makes it all feel
infinitely easier to digest.

After a good half an
hour of talking and counselling from Maia, and a few more champagnes,
we walk over to Tyler and Jackson. Tyler is punching Jackson’s
number into his phone as we arrive.

“I leave you alone
for a few minutes, and you’re already giving your number to
strangers?” Maia teases, leaning up to kiss Jackson.

“Tyler’s going to
join in on a game of ball before he leaves next week,” Jackson
replies. “Wednesdays lunchtime. At Brown, the casual courts. Do you
know where they are?”

“I think I remember
from orientation,” Tyler replies, shoving his phone back into his
pocket.

“You went to Brown?”
I ask, looking up at him.

“Nope, just
orientation,” he says with a smile. “I decided to fly around the
world taking photos instead.”

The champagne begins to
take effect right about now, as I feel slightly unsteady on my feet.
Tyler notices and takes a gentle hold of my elbow, righting me.

“
I
don’t think anyone noticed
,” he whispers in my ear.

I
noticed
. I noticed how, from the time he found me, he
hasn’t left my side. I also noticed Blake, blissfully unaware of my
presence at all, and especially not presently connected to the
brother whom he hates.

Maia and Jackson excuse
themselves, and Tyler and I stand at the bar, alone.
I
need to talk to him
. From the corner of my eye, I see
Eliza Carson across the room, staring intently at the both of us.
Thankfully she averts her gaze when I look at her, and walks in the
opposite direction.

“I need to talk to
you,” I say to Tyler, parroting my thoughts. “And I need to get
out of this room. It feels too stuffy.” I say, feeling suddenly hot
and uncomfortable.

Tyler shoots a
cautionary glance at Blake, laughing in the sea of silk, voile, and
gold. “Come on,” he says, looking concerned.

I follow him down the
same corridor as the ladies bathroom. “I’m not going to be sick,”
I say reproachfully.

“We’re not going
there,” Tyler answers. He takes my hand in the empty corridor and
opens the fire exit’s door. We descend down one set of stairs, onto
the maintenance level of the building. The air down here feels clean
and cool, even though it smells like a mixture of bleach and fried
foods. I sit on an upside down milk crate in the long corridor, not
caring that my dress is splayed untidily on the floor around me.

Tyler crouches in front
of me. “What’s going on?” he asks gently.

“I don’t know,” I
answer honestly, tears welling in my eyes. “This whole situation is
so fucked up! Why couldn’t I have met you first?” The words slide
out of my mouth, possibly propelled by the champagne, before I can
stop them. “It’s always the same. Even before you arrived, we’d
come to these things together, and Blake would virtually forget I
existed. Then you arrived, and when you stand next to him in
comparison—well, you make me see the things in Blake that I ignored
before, for whatever reason.”

“You do have the
ability to change your mind,” Tyler says quietly. “You aren’t
married yet. It isn’t too late.” His eyes search mine, looking
for an answer.
Some sign of
hope.
They bore into me intensely. My entire body lights
up, a burning warmth coursing through my mid-section. I’m so scared
of my actions around Tyler now, especially when I’m so uninhibited
by alcohol.

I grab his hand
silently and we walk down the corridor. I open the first door we see
and turn the handle. It opens easily. In the dark, with only a small
amount of moonlight illuminating the room from a small, high window,
I see rows of crockery and cutlery on metal shelving down the center
of the long room. I push the lock button on the door, sealing us both
in.

Tyler eyes me
cautiously. “Emily, I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“Are you saying you
don’t want to be alone with me?” I ask, taking a step forward,
meeting his eyes in a silent challenge.

“No,” he says. “I’m
saying I don’t trust myself alone with you.” Tyler snakes an arm
around my waist. My skin burns under his touch.

“We’ve been alone
before. Why is this time different?”

“You know why,” he
whispers. Tyler looks as if it’s taking all of his willpower to
maintain his resolve against me.

“I don’t,” I say
softly. “Tell me why.”

“You’re beautiful,”
he says with a smile. “But you’ve been drinking. And believe me
when I say that I’m using every ounce of restraint that I have to
stay away from you. How will you feel about this in the morning?”

“I may have been
drinking, but you will still be Tyler in the morning. The world may
end. But you’ll still be you. I’ll still be me. We’ll still
have been here, alone. And I’ll still remember why I locked that
door,” I say softly. “Your brain may be telling you one thing,
but your body—” I stop speaking as I let my eyes wander down to
the very obvious hard on in his pants.

Tyler takes a step
forward and crashes his lips into mine without a second’s more
hesitation. My mind finally catches up to my body, realizing that I
have wanted this for so long. Our lips dissolve into each other’s.
My god!
His lips.
This kiss.
So sweetly erotic
.
Tyler grips me firmly around the waist and moves in closer, pushing
me gently against the cold wall. I don’t even register the
temperature. My own body feels like it has been lit on fire. His hand
reaches back to unclip my hair, and it falls freely over my
shoulders.

My hands grab hungrily
at his shirt, yanking it from his pants. I feel him, hard in every
way imaginable, pressed against my thigh. My fingers move fluidly up
his back, feeling his muscles clench under my touch. He gently turns
my face and leaves a trail of soft, delicious kisses down my neck. I
move to undo his belt. I want to feel him.
Need
to.
To know, just once, what Tyler Carson feels like. The
smell of him is intoxicating. As he delivers kiss after mind-blowing
kiss, his hands roam freely, as if memorizing every curve of my body.
His fingers leave blazing trails on my skin wherever they venture.