No matter how unaffected she tried to act, I knew she was nervous. She did not want to go back to the club. Otherwise she’d never have asked me to come along. She would never put Devon and me in a social situation together unless she was completely and totally freaking out.
“Why would you want to go back there?” I asked sharply. I tried to rein in my bewildered accusation. As much as I hated the reason she was asking, I couldn’t help but feel a smidgen of hope that her asking at all was a sign that our friendship could be salvaged.
Because I missed Renee Alston. A lot.
Renee’s jaw tightened, and her eyes became flinty. “Look, I knew asking you was a lost cause. God forbid your weekend consist of something other than watching The Vampire Diaries for the millionth time while Brooks makes his super-witty comments that no one finds funny but him,” Renee snapped. I felt a flash of anger.
“Look, if you want me to go anywhere with you and that loser you call a boyfriend, you’re going about it the wrong way, sweetheart,” I countered sarcastically, allowing myself to unload some of my anger in her direction.
Renee sucked in a breath. “Fuck off, Aubrey,” she bit out.
“So this is how it’s going to be from now on, I guess. Us barely talking. Me biting my tongue in half instead of telling you what I really think of your f**khead boyfriend. Both of us ignoring the fact that you’ve changed. Big-time,” I challenged, my voice rising the angrier I became.
Renee’s eyes became glassy, and I recognized the tremble of her bottom lip all too well. Her imminent tears made me feel like shit.
“Forget it,” Renee whispered, and left the room before I could say anything else. I pressed the heel of my hands into my eyes and swallowed down the urge to scream. I took a deep breath. Okay, she was being a bitch, but I could have handled it a little better myself. She had tried to reach out in the only way she seemed capable of at the moment, and I had smacked her hand away. And while hanging out with Devon and his idiot friends for the night didn’t sound like my idea of a good time, being with Renee in whatever capacity was possible seemed like a positive step forward for us.
I went into the hallway with every intention of making peace.
But just as I was about to call out to her, to accept her invitation, however strange and awkward it had been, I heard the front door open and then shut with a decisive slam.
Not two minutes later, the door opened again, and I hurried to the living room to try to repair the unfortunate situation with Renee.
“I’ve told you a thousand times to lock that door,” Brooks scolded as he headed into the kitchen. He really didn’t understand the concept of personal boundaries. Somewhere along the way, my house became his house. My chips became his chips.
My chocolate became his chocolate? Oh, hell no!
I grabbed the bag of Hershey’s Kisses from his hands. “There are lines you can’t cross, Brooks. Hands off,” I warned, putting the bag back in the cabinet.
Brooks looked unfazed as he instead reached for a box of Ritz Crackers and went into the living room.
“I passed Renee in the hallway. She looked as though her ass was on fire. Oh, and she was dressed like a hooch. Let me guess, hot date with her boyfriend, aka I like to kick kittens with steel-toed boots?” Brooks asked, rolling his eyes as I started wiping his cracker crumbs from the couch cushions.
I handed him a paper plate, which he accepted with exaggerated slowness, just to irritate me.
I sat down beside him with a flop. “She went back to Compulsion, can you believe that? And she wanted me to go with her. Sorry, but I just don’t see the appeal of worrying about whether you will be knifed in the bathroom for your lip gloss,” I muttered.
“Shit! Really? You wanna go?” Brooks asked, perking up.
I leveled him with my version of his patented “are you crazy?” look.
“So we can be humiliated when we’re told to go home by the Barbarian Bouncer?”
Brooks tossed the box of crackers onto the coffee table and wiped his hands on his jeans, making me cringe.
“Aubrey, seriously, we should go! Ever since last time I’ve really wanted to check it out, and you know you want to keep an eye on Renee,” he countered.
I started to voice my protests but was rudely cut off by Brooks placing his hand over my mouth.
“Don’t you dare deny it! You won’t be able to relax tonight for worrying about that flaky roommate of yours. So come on, get dolled up, and let’s go get our club on!” I smacked Brooks’s hand away and tried in vain to stay irritated with him, which was damned difficult as he started to wiggle his shoulders in a poor imitation of dancing.
“I don’t think I have anything in my closet that remotely resembles what a dominatrix would wear. There’s no way we’ll get inside,” I reasoned, hoping he’d drop it while simultaneously hoping he’d wear me down.
Because, damn him, he was right. I wanted to go. Though I wouldn’t admit that I had other reasons than just to keep tabs on my friend, that I was actually a teensy bit curious about the world Compulsion offered.
Okay, more than a teensy bit.
Even though I had been in level-ten panic mode during my last visit, something about the music, the atmosphere, the thrilling taste of danger that danced on the end of my tongue, was compelling.
The desire to escape made me anxious. Ever since the phone call with my mother, I had again been held prisoner by memories that I had tried very hard to keep tucked away in my subconscious.
It only took the sound of my mother’s voice to blow open the door I kept resolutely shut.
So the idea of letting go, of submerging myself in a world so completely outside my norm, was a lot more enticing than it ever would have been before.
And then there was the mystery man . . .
My decision was made.
“Okay, let’s do this,” I said suddenly, getting to my feet. I laughed at the wide-mouthed stare I received from Brooks.
I put my hands on my hips and rolled my eyes. “I thought you wanted to go. Come on, help me find something that is sufficiently slutty to get me inside,” I taunted, enjoying the shock on my friend’s face.
I didn’t surprise people very often, but I figured when I did, I might as well make it a doozy.
“Uh . . . okay,” Brooks stammered, following me into my bedroom.
Twenty minutes later I was standing in a sea of clothing that was about to make my OCD tendencies go into full-on meltdown.
“When did my penis become a freaking vagina? I’m a guy, Aubrey! A guy! I don’t know what the f**k you should wear! I’m all about taking the clothes off. Not putting them on.” Brooks was talking from his perch on my bed, where he had stretched out, watching my one-woman whirling dervish imitation.