Beautifully Broken

“Both.” She says, her eyes glued to her foster brothers.

I study Piper’s face and find a small yellow bruise on her cheek, carefully hidden by makeup, unnoticeable to the passerby. But I know what happened. The faint discoloration under her concealer jumps out, especially being this close. “Are you okay?” I ask sitting beside her.

“I’m fine.” Piper looks completely out of her element. It might be the party. She’s pretty antisocial and probably isn’t comfortable around all these people. If she’s uncomfortable, she’ll leave and I’m not ready for her to go. I’ve got to make her stay.

“Want to head inside? It’s quiet. No one’s allowed in, and I promise I won't touch you or ask you to do anything.”

“Good because I won’t,” she warns.

“I know that.”

She snorts. “Sure you do.”

Piper has no reason to trust me. A Google search of my name doesn’t paint me in the best light. Not to mention the guys at our school are total douches. So, I level with her, let her have a piece of me, hoping to earn her trust. “My dad’s been the target of rumors for years. Paparazzi love to make shit up. Happy families and good decisions don’t sell papers. Sometimes they’d attack me, put it out to the world how I’m on benders and partying myself to death. So, the rumors about you and your reputation mean nothing. Until I catch you with your lips around some dude’s cock in the bathroom and watch him hand you fifty bucks, I don’t believe it.”

“Were any of the tabloids true?”

I tilt my head side to side. How do I explain that for a year or so, they were? I was young, maybe ninth grade when my parents moved me—not us, me— across the country halfway into my freshman year.

I was settled in Anaheim. I’d wormed my way into the popular group, which at the time felt important. I opened myself up to the idea of having friends because I’d been there for over a year. So when mother uprooted me without warning to New York and didn’t bother to come too...I acted out. I drank. I fought. I fucked the wrong type of girl twice, landing some not so great pictures in some very unreliable gossip magazines. I did everything shy of getting arrested for my parents attention. They never showed, and poor Gretchen was worn out that year.

After that, I made a promise to myself I wasn’t going to try anymore. Gretchen wasn’t my nanny or my friend. I realized she was my true mother, despite the fact that she hadn’t birthed me. I played with her kids; I spent the holidays with her. She wasn’t a part of my family, but I was a part of hers.

However, it didn’t matter that I turned my life around. Tabloids still printed stories, made me out to be a hot-headed, drunken, man-whore when in fact I’ve only slept with six women. “Some of it was true, but even after I got my act together, they kept the stories running. Like I said, good decisions don’t sell papers.”

Gray eyes, dusted with powder blue and silver slivers, finally find mine. She smiles. It’s small and only lasts a fraction of a second, but I see it. “Okay.”

My heart hammers in my chest. Did I hear her right? “Okay, what?”

Our gazes dance together for what feels like an eternity. My heart beats against my ribcage with Hulk-like intensity. It wants her. It wants to hold this beautifully broken girl and show her that she’s worthy of love.

Not that I love her, but I like her.

A lot.

Finally, Piper says, “Let’s go inside. I’m giving you a chance. Don’t make me regret it.”

5

Piper

If someone would have told me back in August that I’d be at a party this year, I would have laughed in their face. If they’d have told me I would be at said party to chase a boy, I would have said they’d lost their mind. And yet here I am, doing both.

Convincing Cooper to drive me after work was too easy. I almost think he wanted to come, although I can’t imagine why. He seemed to lose interest in high school parties the same time I did. Although his newfound interest might be related to his recent late comings and goings.

We parked halfway down the street behind an overpriced Lexus. It’s just one of the two dozen cars lining the sidewalk to Rex’s two story mini-mansion. Walking through the back gate, I was prepared for people. I was prepared for loud music. I wasn’t prepared for Logan to hug me.

In the

ten years we’ve known each other, Logan’s never hugged me.

He’s taking this good-brother thing to the extreme. I appreciate the effort, but I don’t need it. One overbearing Harris man is more than enough. Also, Logan doesn’t know about my issues with being touched, but Cooper does and from my peripheral vision he doesn’t look happy.

The instant Logan’s arms were around me every bit of confidence I had walking into the party vanished, squashed by the balloon inflating in my chest. He set me on my feet and I darted to one of the ugliest patio chairs I’ve ever seen in my life, away from the crowd of people partying and away from the Harris’ so they wouldn’t notice my trembling.

And then, just when I’d begun to worry that I wouldn’t get my shaking under control, Rex came over. Just his presence eases my nerves, but I don’t know why.

After the whole Logan situation, Rex sits next to me, his pinky brushing against my leg with a whisper of a touch. I wait for the tightness in my chest or the shakes or sweats or something from someone touching me to come back, but they never do. There’s nothing but excited tingles and I’m not sure how to take it.