Irreparably Broken (Irreparable 1)

An unfamiliar voice fills my ear as I watch her walk away. Oh shit! I forgot I’m attached to a strange guy. “You want me to get you a drink?”

What the hell. I’m already drunk. “Sure.”

My hips continue swinging to the beat, and I close my eyes.

“What’ll you have?” I barely hear him over the bass in the song.

“Long Island,” I reply.

“I’ll be right back.” When his warm breath enters my ear, I recoil. My intuition screams he’s a creep, but my foggy brain ignores it.

While he’s gone, I continue to dance, if you can call it that. Atrocious cologne lingers in the air. It’s bitter on my tongue, and I try to scrape it away with my teeth. I’m a little tipsy – okay, the dizziness started a while ago – but it’s downright overwhelming now. Three drinks is my limit, and that is over several hours, not twenty minutes.

Brady

When I exit the restroom and return to the bar, I don’t see Tori or my sister. All the clubs in this town, and Tori and I end up in the same place, as though she’s destined to torment me.

Where the hell did they go?

My heart is still sputtering after seeing Tori with Jake earlier; his closeness not only painful, but rage-inducing. Every ounce of self-control I have is being put to the test tonight, because my instincts want nothing more than to pound his cheating face. His arrogance astounds me. How can he think it’s acceptable to speak to Tori after what he’s done to her? As I remember how close he got to her lips, I nearly lose it. The reaction Liv had to him was priceless. I’m proud of my little sister for handling it and sticking up for Tori.

I look over the top of my Jack and Coke and see Jake standing ten feet from me, fake smile plastered on his dumb face. His number’s finally up. Now that he’s away from Tori and my sister, I have the urge to start some shit. I rise from the stool, and shoulder past a few guys. Jake turns away from me before I reach him, and I grab his arm. He sways from side to side as he turns to face me. Lightweight never could handle his liquor.

“Hey, man, what’s up, Brady?” His words are slurred, and tiny spit bubbles spray from his lips. He holds his hand out like he expects something from me. He thinks we’re friends. Fucking rat bastard! We aren’t friends.

My eyes glance at his outstretched hand, and then I shove him back. Rage bolts to the surface, and I struggle to control it. I breathe in calmly, and step up to his chest. “Get the hell out of here, Jake, and stay the fuck away from Tori.”

He cowers instantly, and steps back. He looks all offended, like he’s a stand-up guy and he doesn’t understand why I’d be pissed. “Jesus, Brady. What the hell is your problem?”

“You’re going to be the one with a problem if I find out you even so much as breathe near Tori. I’ll fucking hurt you if you touch her again. Now get the hell out of here before I decide to hurt you anyway.” My fingers twitch, and I wait for what he’s going to say. One wrong word, and he’s going down.

“Shit, all right. I’m outta here!”

He grabs some slutty brunette by the hand and storms toward the exit. My eyes travel up and down the brunette. Her skirt is too tight and short enough to expose her cottage cheese thighs. She’s a skank, not even close to the same league as Tori.

After I sit down, my boots tap the metal bar along the bottom of the stool, and I watch them walk away. I keep my eyes on him to make sure he keeps his word and leaves. He darts me a look and yells over his shoulder, “It’s just pussy, Brady. She’s a priss anyway.”

The derogatory babble spewing from his mouth sets me off again. I fly off my stool, and head for him. I am going to enjoy kicking his ass. How can he say that about Tori, a girl he supposedly loved? She’s definitely not just pussy. Before I reach him, I spot her on the dance floor out of the corner of my eye.

She takes my breath away, with her arms raised above her head as though she’s lost in the song. I forget about Jake the dickwad, and stand fixated on her movements, the way her hips sway effortlessly and her lips part sensually with each breath of air. I picture holding her hands like that while I thrust my hips, burying my cock completely inside of her. My dick presses against my jeans just thinking about it, and I have to look away before I’m not able to walk back to the bar. It’s wrong to think about her like this.

I sit back down, and motion to the bartender for another Jack and Coke. The guy next to me orders two drinks. The excessive amount of cologne he’s wearing burns my nostrils. Greasy in appearance, he’s the type that frequents these clubs, hooking up with a different girl every weekend. Not like I’m one to talk. I’d once been this pathetic guy, getting horizontal with a different girl every night of the week. Who am I to judge, just because it’s been a while? Since before Vanessa.

He notices me watching him, and nods. I do the same and turn away before he assumes something else is going on. I try like hell to look at anyone but her. It’s pointless, and as masochistic as it is, I can’t help but watch Tori dance.

As I bring my eyes back to the greaseball, he pours something from a small plastic baggie into one of the drinks. What a loser. He’s even more despicable than I thought. I’ll never understand why a guy has to drug a chick to get a piece of ass from her. It’s sickening. There are plenty of women who give it up willingly. Why not find one of them? I sure hope whoever he’s with is smart enough to toss the drink.

His chin lifts in the air like we have some silent understanding. Mentally I shout, Fuck off, loser! If I wasn’t obligated to babysit Tori and my sister, I’d follow him and let the girl know what a scumbag she’s with. Whoever she is, she’s someone else’s problem tonight. I have my own shit to deal with.

My eyes land on Tori again. I imagine moving my hands over her body while she dances and what her warm sweaty skin would feel like. I think about it, but I will never let it happen. Even if she forgives me, my life’s too screwed up right now to bring her into it. She deserves someone without a giant fucking trunk for baggage.

I turn from her, and finish my drink. I tell myself to quit staring at her. It’s wrong, like I’m some obsessed stalker. The “obsessed” part might be accurate. I order another drink, take a sip, and chew on a piece of ice. Fuck it, there’s no harm in watching. She doesn’t even know I’m here. Here lurking, like a psycho. I turn my head, stare at her thighs, her curvaceous body, and her sultry smile. And then I see red.

Chapter 4

Tori

The friend of Liv’s latest conquest returns with drinks in hand. Now that I get a good look at him, I’m completely bummed and a little grossed out. Even with my beer goggles on, he’s so not my type in any way, shape, or desperate form.