Irreparably Broken (Irreparable 1)

As I take in her downcast expression, I absorb a miniscule amount of guilt. Without a glance, she stands and opens her closet. She wishes things with me and Brady could be different. But they aren’t, and they never will be.

Her back is to me as she surveys her wardrobe.

“How long is he going to be here?” I ask. “I thought he had to stay in L.A. because he was interning all summer.”

She doesn’t answer, and rummages through her closet for something to wear. She pulls multiple items from the hangers, holding each piece up to her slim frame. As she grumbles her annoyance, she tosses one garment after the other to the floor. Liv will go through fifty things before she decides on an outfit. I suddenly realize the fashion show is an attempt to avoid my question.

“What aren't you telling me, Liv?"

She squeaks into the closet, “The internship kind of fell through, so he’s home for the summer.” I hear the guilty-as-hell grin in her voice, though I can’t see her face.

“What, he’ll be here all summer?” I throw my head onto the pillow, scream into it and then sit up and glower heatedly at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She spins to face me with an apologetic pout. Her shoulders are hunched forward as she shuffles toward me. “Because I knew you would never move in here if I did.”

Damn right!

“Well, duh! You do remember Jake’s graduation party, right?” She nods and begins fidgeting with the ring on her middle finger. I’d like to give her the middle finger. “It was Brady who fed Jake the ten shots of te-kill-ya and then pushed Savannah-whatever-her-last-name-is to take Jake in the closet and pleasure him.” I cringe, remembering Jake’s oafish fuck-face at eye level and the blonde bobbing head of Savannah-whatever-her-last-name-is at waist level. Worse than that, though, I remember Brady’s malicious laughter when I found them. He’d wanted me to see the two of them together and relished it jubilantly, like my humiliation was a scene from a reality show. Real Girlfriends of Pacific Beach. I’ll never forgive him.

“You can’t hate him forever.” The bed dips when she sits down next to me. I resist the urge to shake her and tell her that, in fact, I can hate him forever, and I will. “I know it was hard, and you blame Brady, but in a way, he did you a favor. He’s only here for

the summer. With his social life, he won’t even be around that much. I promise.”

Without answering, I pad across the room on my bare feet and remove my white terrycloth bathrobe from the hook behind the door. I pull it on, cursing myself for not remembering to take it into the bathroom with me. “I thought there was some girlfriend he’s currently addicted to. Won’t he go into withdrawal or something?”

Liv frowns and shakes her head. “He and Vanessa aren’t together anymore. He won’t talk about it and gets upset if I bring it up. I don’t think it ended well.” I hear in the dismal tone of her voice that she’s worried about Brady.

I don’t give a shit about Brady or how his relationship ended. “What do you know? Brady Hunter finally got a taste of his own medicine for once. Wish I could have been there to see that.”

“Tor!”

“I’m sorry, Liv. I just wish you had warned me or something.”

“Well, I didn’t, but since he’s here, does this mean you’ll go out with me?” She’s bouncing and clapping her hands together enthusiastically.

The girl seriously has a one-track mind. As much as I don’t want to go out – especially to a meat market full of horny, ass-grabbing men – I’m not staying in this house tonight if Brady is going to be in it. “Yes, I’ll go out with you, but promise, no matchmaking tonight. I don’t need a boyfriend, okay?”

She’s looking at me in the devilish way she does right before she tells me how wrong I am about what I need. “No kidding. What you need is to get laid!” Liv is so tickled with herself she cackles.

“Liv!”

Her hands roll in a continuous motion in front of her body. “No, seriously, Tor. You have all this sexual tension. You’re literally going to combust soon.”

I let my silence express my irritation. Why does she think I’m unhappy because I’m not having sex? It’s a stupid assumption. Like someone could pop simply because they don’t get laid on a regular basis. This desperate way of thinking is what leads her to sleep with idiot after idiot. No, thanks! Finally I reply, “Thank you, Dr. Phill.”

“I make no promises,” she taunts before leaving the room. There’s no point in arguing. She doesn’t listen.

While I'm blow-drying my hair, all of my attention is with Brady. Recalling our impromptu and mortifying reunion in the bathroom has me fuming mad. My immediate goal is escaping this house and Brady as quickly as possible. I force all thoughts of him from my mind, and continue getting ready.

After brushing my long blonde waves up and twisting them into a messy bun on top of my head, I apply a minimal amount of makeup: on my eyes, light pearl-green shadow and brown mascara. I dust a hint of sienna blush on my cheeks and glide an apricot gloss across my lips. It’s enough to keep Liv from nagging at me. I pull on the jeans she picked out for me, and pair them with a black halter tank and some strappy sandals.

Tug strolls into the room without knocking. “Goddamn, girl, did you have to paint those things on? Curves like that could make a grown man cry.”

I detest my goddamn curves, and it makes me ape-shit crazy when people point them out. But it’s Tug, and I’ve learned to expect nothing less from him.

He jumps up onto Liv’s bed and sits, leaning against the headboard. His hair is its typical mess, which somehow always looks right on Tug, and he’s wearing nothing but pajama bottoms. I steal a look at him through the mirror’s reflection, and blush a little. Tug’s been working out, and it’s starting to show. He’s always been long and lean, but now that he’s filling in, he’s kind of hot. Because I would die if Tug ever caught me checking him out, I don’t let my inspection linger. Without a doubt, Tug would hound me relentlessly for the rest of my life about it.

I shake away my not-so-pure thoughts about Liv’s little brother, and turn toward him with a flirty glance. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Tug.”