Pretty Thing (Naughty Things 1)

I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck as he reaches over, feeling for a blanket, and covers us up. The sudden warmth and closeness feels like protection and safety all at once and even though this day was one of the worst in my life, it ends better than it started.

“Good night, Kali,” he murmurs, already drifting off.

“Night,” I say back, suddenly wide awake. I can still feel the buzz from the whiskey but it’s not enough to erase what just happened.

I just had sex with Aiden Edwards.

No. That’s not what happened.

I just had sex with my brother’s best friend.

Right after his funeral.

What kind of horrible sister am I? Why did I do this?

But of course, I know why.

I wanted to. And Kyle wasn’t here to play interloper and stop us. For the first time in my life I was alone and Aiden was all mine.

I sigh and this makes Aiden shift position. A sudden urge to leave overtakes me. Just get my shit and walk out. But he’s not sleeping that deep yet. If I move, I’ll wake him up. Plus, I’m too drunk to drive all the way back to the city.

So I lie there. Forbidding myself from enjoying his loose embrace. Forbidding myself from replaying our first time over and over in my head.

Doesn’t work.

I do enjoy him and I do replay it.

Especially the kisses. And the way he responded to me. And the way he nibbled my earlobe as I came. And the way he forced my head to stay in position as he came down my throat.

Then I get one of those irrational fears. Can Kyle see us? Is his spirit still hanging around? Did he just witness our ultimate betrayal?

I don’t believe in ghosts, or God, or spirit realms, so I tell myself that’s all nonsense.

Still, I can’t get the image of Kyle out of my mind. I picture him pacing the room at the foot of the bed. Screaming at me. Screaming at Aiden. Taking a swing at him and unable to connect.

It’s bad enough he’s dead, but now we just went and made things worse.

I want to leave. I need to leave.

But I remain still.

I tell myself that I just need him to sleep deeper, then I’ll get up and walk out.

But time passes. Hours pass and I’m still here.

Aiden has shifted position so many times he’s now lying on his stomach, arms gripping the pillow under his face.

Light begins to seep in from the window and I can see his bedroom a little. It’s small, just a bed and one nightstand off to the side. The curtains are sheer and blue. So is the comforter covering me.

But he’s all the way on the other side of the bed now. There’s no excuse for me to still be here. So I carefully—quietly—get up and walk into the living room. Put on all my clothes, grab my shoes, and leave the way I came in. Through the back, down the alley, and out onto the street.

My parents live about a mile and a half away and I walk the whole thing barefoot. It’s early, barely six AM, and it’s Saturday. Our sleepy little town isn’t quite ready to wake up yet, so thankfully only a few cars pass as I walk.

When I get there I slip in the back door, find my purse, and then walk straight out to my car.

I know I should stay. Talk to my parents, at least. But I can’t. I can’t be here in this town without Kyle. And after what Aiden and I did, I don’t think I could even look my parents in the eyes.

So I walk out to the guest parking area, get in my car, and drive two hours back to the city.

I’m just walking into my apartment when my phone buzzes an incoming text.

Aiden: Where’d you go?

I don’t answer.

Just turn the phone off, take a shower, and climb into my bed.

When I wake up it’s already late afternoon. And when the memory of what I did the night before comes rushing back, I dread looking at my phone.

But what I find waiting for me is both surprising and expected.

Three messages from my parents.

None, other than that first one, from Aiden.

Hmmm. I guess his regrets are as real as mine.

I make a cup of coffee real fast, then settle onto my couch and call my parents.

“There you are,” my mother says, not even bothering with hello. “We’re been calling you all day. Where are you?”

“Home,” I say.

“Oh,” my mother says. “We were expecting you at the reception last night.”

“Right,” I say, closing my eyes. Because I feel like I could sleep for another three days. “Aiden and I went to his place afterward. We stayed at the grave for a while, just talking. And then we went back to the garage and… got drunk, to be honest.”