Torn Apart (Torn and Bound Duet 1)

“Why? Curtis seems cool.”

“I like Curtis too,” she agrees. “He’s always nice and seems worried about Ashton. You can’t tell him that, though.”

I sigh, knowing full well what she means. It’s like when I try to tell Bray anything. He refuses to hear it.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs.

“Could have fooled me.”

She laughs. “I hate being here. My mom is my issue. She’s just so…”

“Bitchy?”

Another laugh. “That too. Pretentious. Overbearing. At times, borderline cruel.” Her voice cracks. “I love her. She’s my mom.”

“But you wish you could throttle her ass?”

“Yes,” she says with a giggle. “I’m sorry I left you to babysit Ashton. I just… I can’t bear to see him in pain.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“A friend. Seems as though that’s all I’ll ever be.” Her tone isn’t bitter, just resigned.

“Sometimes, we want to do so much for our best friend, but they won’t let us. It’s maddening.”

“You speak from experience,” she says. “Does this have something to do with you and Brayden?”

“Yeah. I want to be there for him…” And more. “But I hurt him, Mia. I hurt him and I hate myself for it. All I want is to repair that hurt. I just don’t know how.”

“Maybe give him time. Start small. Be there for him even when it’s hard.”

“Are you following your own sage advice with Ashton?”

“I guess I need to.” She’s quiet for a minute. “I’m sorry for what happened between us.”

“It’s okay. I get it, short stuff. I really do.”

“It wasn’t fair to you.” She swallows audibly. “For what it’s worth, I enjoyed that night. Where it was leading. Who it was with. My mind’s just a mess. And now you’re…”

“Same,” I grunt out. “It was a good night…” I let my words drift off so she can repaint the picture in her head.

“Very good,” she whispers. “Thank you. I needed that.”

The line goes silent and her breathing soothes me.

“How do you normally cheer that asshole up in there?” I ask. “Last night was hell.”

“Feed him. Ashton loves food.”

“For someone who has such a sweet tooth and eats everything in sight, he’s extremely fit. It makes me hate him a little.”

We both laugh.

“I agree—hold on. Someone’s at the door. Probably my mom.”

I smile as I think about what comes next.

“Brayden! Oh my God! What are you doing here?”

Her squeal of delight and then giggles warm my heart.

“Drew, I have to go. Call me later.”

“Bye, short stuff.”

The phone clicks off and I rub at the ache in my chest. It’s bittersweet knowing Brayden is happy. He likes Mia. Mia deserves someone like Bray. Just sucks when you’re on the outside. I’m attracted to Mia and obviously we had a connection, but Bray is just…

He’s everything I’ll never have.After a quick shower, I start on breakfast. Ashton hasn’t surfaced from his room until I begin cooking the bacon. Then, like the human garbage disposal he is, he stumbles out of his room following the scent of food. His hair is wet and he’s dressed, but he still looks like shit thanks to his obvious hangover.

“Hey,” I greet. “Hungry?”

“Like a hippo.”

I smirk because sometimes he seems so much younger than me. Truth is, we’re the same age.

“Grab us some juice while I finish up,” I tell him.

Ashton starts some coffee and then roots around in the fridge for the orange juice. We move in amicable silence until it’s all done and ready.

“How do you like your coffee?” he asks.

“Two sugars and a teaspoon of creamer is fine.”

He makes a face but obeys. “Just like Mia.”

I watch in absolute horror as he dumps way too much sugar into his own glass. Then, he pours in the creamer until his coffee can no longer be considered that. It’s damn near white. Fucking sick. It reminds me of how Brayden likes his. The total opposite. Straight with nothing. Black like his hair. I’d find this humorous in some way or even ironic since I kissed them both this week, but it only makes me miss Bray.

“What?” he asks.

“You. I bet your dentist hates you.”

He flashes me his pearly whites. “Dr. Redkin loves me.”

“Because he makes a shit-ton of money off you.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Used to send me home with suckers after each visit. It’s probably his fault I’m this way.”

We both chuckle and set our plates down at the coffee table. He flips on the television, landing on a music station while I bring in our coffee and juice. As guitar riffs fill the silence, we eat. Even hungover, Ashton is a sight to behold. His black T-shirt fits him well and his holey jeans look good on him. He’s what I’d call effortlessly cool. Guys probably want to be him, but can’t pull it off because they don’t have his devil-may-care attitude.

“Want to hit the gym with me later?” I ask. “After eating this, I’ll need it.”