Irreparably Broken (Irreparable 1)

After seeing her naked, I lack the self-control necessary to be anywhere near her. Her naked and in my bed with my dick buried deep inside her is all I can think about. Just the thought of her makes me want to jack off again. As long as she’s in my house, I’ll be doing a lot of that. Her nipples are soft pink perfection. Those fuck-me-handle hips beckon me to bend her over my bed and have my way with her. It’s the arch just above her hips seamlessly defining her waist that does me in. I’ve often fantasized about palming her hips and running my hands up her body until they fall into that curve.

I’ve been with plenty of women, but none of them consumed my thoughts the way she does. With them, it’s a quick lay and an even quicker send-off – a “get the fuck out” goodbye – and “no, I don’t want you to call me." Vanessa was my first official girlfriend. I dated her to forget about Tori, but Vanessa is my best friend, not the one I want to be with. She is the one I settled for, and she put up with my shit knowing I wasn’t in love with her. Tori’s the girl I want to wake up to every morning and lie down with every night, but I can’t do it. I’ll hurt her eventually. She needs a “nice guy,” and that’s not me. Damn it, I need to get the hell out of this cursed house. Coming home was a bad idea. L.A. was miserable, but this place is pure unadulterated torture.

After pulling my Timberlands from my bag, I sit on my bed, slide them on, and lace them up quickly. When I’m done, I fall back onto the bed. It’s a miserable feeling to want someone so bad. To know it’s wrong to touch her. That if you do, you’ll ruin her. Like a newly frosted cake you don’t have permission to touch. You want a taste so bad your mouth waters. When no one’s looking, you swipe your finger through the frosting, and steal a dollop of sugary goodness. It’s heaven on your tongue, but then you look down and see your mark in the frosting — you’ve destroyed it. Fuck, I can’t handle any more guilt in my life. I have to stay clear of Tori. Hurting her is not worth a taste.

My door opens, and Tug strolls in, laughing. I sit up, and my mood brightens up seeing how amused he is with himself. “What’s so funny, little brother?”

He pats himself on the shoulder. “Our sister. She’s so easy to rile.”

I tip my head to look up at him. “Which one?” I ask. Tug grew up with both of them pestering him, and Tori has always been part of our family.

“The one that Mom delivered,” he answers. “The other one is kinda tough to ruffle.”

I don’t seem to have a problem pissing Tori off. I laugh silently and shrug away the thought. “Liv still hasn’t figured out that she should just ignore you, huh?”

Tug says no but looks genuinely confused. “What would ignoring me solve?”

He’s clueless. “Come on, Tug, you have the attention span of a three-year-old. You’d get bored provoking her if she didn’t let you get under her skin.”

He grins and then chuckles. “Yeah, true, but I’d find some other way to make her crazy.”

I stand up, and slap Tug on the back. “You are twisted, bro.”

I’ve missed Tug and Liv. They might make coming home worth the hell it’s fast becoming.

His chest swells. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I laugh. “You would,” I say, and go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Tug follows me.

“Where are you going tonight?”

I lean against the counter, and fold my arms across my chest. A smile comes over me as the familiarity of our exchange sinks in, Tug following me around like this so many times over the years, always curious what I was up to. “Since I haven’t been home in forever, I’m catching up with some friends later.”

His mouth turns down, and I’m reminded what a shitty brother I am for not visiting more often. “It has been forever, but it’s good to have you home.”

“Thanks, it’s good to be home.” I’m only half lying.

Chapter 3

Tori

Liv parks in the garage at Horton Plaza. The club is five blocks away, and the city is bustling. There’s an abundance of people sporting Padres attire, and I assume there’s a game tonight. As we walk, we’re stopped by a homeless man asking for change, and Liv clings to me fearfully. Her nails nearly break the skin on my arm, and I spin to pull away from her. I don’t know what it is, but there is something kind about him. His hair is nearly white and he has crow’s feet around his eyes. He wears a hat that says Big Brother on it, which I find hilarious. Not having any change, I pull a five-dollar bill from my pocket and hand it to him. His smile stretches all the way to his gleaming eyes.

“Thank you, darling.” The man breaks into song, though I can’t make out the tune because Liv drags me away.

Liv lets go of my wrist once we cross the street. “You’re crazy!”

“He’s harmless Liv.”

“He could be a murderer!” she shouts.

I cock my head and laugh hard. “Yes, every murder happens in the middle of a very crowded street.”

She huffs and stomps away.

As we approach the club, the exterior walls vibrate with the bass from the music. The infinitely long line wraps around the side of the building. Liv opted not to pair her outfit with a sweater, and, judging from her pace, she’s freezing.

I struggle to keep up with her. My sandals aren’t made for running. “Liv, I don’t think we’re gonna get in. It’s really packed.”