Everything boils up inside of me, and the floor vibrates under my feet, my bones shake, my heart bumps. The stitches unravel out of the shirt I’m wearing, my heart unspools like cotton and I can’t handle ten more seconds of not kissing him. I put my hand on my hickey and bite my lip. I clench everything so I don’t make a sound.
He convinced me last night that I’m beautiful. From the look in his eye, I convinced him he’s a sexual genius. The faintest smirk touches his lips. “Darce? You want a bedroom, right?”
I cough to clear my throat. “Make it a room fit for a princess. Wallpaper and a fireplace and a four-poster bed. Make someone fall in love with that room.”
“Sure, like it’s so easy,” Jamie replies to me with some snark in his voice. “He’s not your slave.”
“Oh, ’cause he’s your slave?” Tom’s phone buzzes in my pocket. “Tom, it’s your mom. Gosh, pretty early for her.” I hand him the phone. Then I round on my brother. That familiar feeling is in the air. A Barrett Battle.
“So, you got Tom to knock down my fireplace.” I know this is wrong. This won’t lead to anything good. But I have to start getting Jamie used to the fact that Tom is going to choose me over him from now on.
“I told him I trust him. Isn’t that what you do? Trust him? Why not now?” Jamie plants his feet right where the fireplace was and holds out his arms. “The room is huge. There’s some chance of making it look modern now.”
Tom is speaking in soothing tones on his phone and slips out the front door. “He’s going to crack,” I say as I watch him leave. “How much more can get piled on him? I’m trying to help him.”
“You’re never going to help him. Ever. You’re a monkey on his back.” Jamie hopes that hurt. When it doesn’t, he tries again. “He’s only here because I asked him to be.”
“He’s only here because I’m here.” I’ve just blurted the wrong thing, and this time Jamie doesn’t mistake what I mean. He laughs and looks me up and down like I’m nothing special.
“Who do you think you are?” He asks it sweetly. It’s those same words he used in our big fight. The words that echo in my head every time I take out the trash at the bar or open a box of fifty novelty mugs.
“Who do I think I am? I’m Darcy fucking Barrett!”
Jamie laughs now. My short charade is over, clearly. “You think you have a chance with him?”
My temper is an erupting volcano. “I do have a chance!” I point at my neck. “That’s his! He’s mine now!” It’s so satisfying, watching the air leave Jamie’s body. It’s luscious. I’ve won. “He’s mine. He loves me. I’m keeping him.”
“Keeping him,” Jamie splutters. “Keeping him? You’re sleeping with Tom? Darcy, what did we talk about?”
“You can’t stand to see me happy.”
“Oh, and Tom looks so fucking happy,” Jamie counters. “Did you at least handle the morning after like a grown up?” He sees the minute hesitation in me and swoops on it. “You just did what you always do. You enjoyed yourself, did zero feelings, and you’re going to be gone the next time a flight goes on sale.”
“Not this time I won’t.” I even surprise myself with my intensity. Jamie blinks and backs up, but he quickly rallies.
“Only because you have no passport. Ever find that thing?”
“Give. It. Back.”
“I don’t have it,” Jamie says, and he’s telling the truth. He looks out the front window, distracted. “Seriously, Darce, why’d you have to pick Tom? He’s way too good for you. You took advantage of him. He’d do whatever anyone asked him.”
“Well I asked an awful lot of him last night.”
“See? Compare yourself to him, would you? He’s nothing but good and honest and deserving of a happily-ever-after. You’re just …” Jamie racks his brain. “You’re human flotsam, you know that?”
The phrase hangs in the air like a gong.
“What did you just call me?”
Jamie recovers seamlessly. “You’re trash compared to him.”
“No. Call me what you called me the first time.” I feel like my veins are full of hot water. “You called me human flotsam. Human flotsam.” I advance on him and he begins to back away. Images of Truly’s phone flashing with repeated notifications begins to make sense. Her blush. Her averted eyes. The way she changes the subject from Jamie, every time without fail. “How? How did you get to her? Truly is your worksite mole?”
I pick up a brick and throw it at him. It hits the wall and takes a chunk out of it. Jamie bends down for a brick of his own. Now it’s on. It’s World War IV, with bricks instead of a dinner set.
“I can talk to whoever I want,” he yells back at me, and throws the brick past my hip. “I don’t have to fucking answer to you.”
“She’s mine. My friend. My best friend.”
“Well, he’s mine.” We circle around each other, furious. This is the fight that we never got to finish. A thin trickle of water runs between us but I barely register it. All I can see is my brother’s furious face, red embarrassed ears, and the sheen on his brow.
I scream in frustration. “How? Tell me how you got her. Explain it to me.” I pick up another brick and weigh it in my palm. I imagine throwing it at his face and it’s vivid. “You couldn’t just leave that one person alone. The one person I wanted all for myself.”
“She’s my friend!” Jamie roars.
“No, she’s not!” I throw the brick and it takes a devastating chunk out of the floorboard. “Just because you think you’re God’s gift to women doesn’t mean she’ll fall for it.”
That knocks some wind from his sails. I remember what he said—She thinks I’m a nightmare. “I’m telling the truth, Darcy. She’s one of my best friends. We’ve been emailing each other.” I laugh derisively at that, but Jamie silences me. “I needed a way to keep an eye on you after our fight. I emailed her from the Underswears website. She replied. I liked it.”
I advance on him with my hands outstretched. I’m going to kill him. And her. And everyone. “Jamie, you little fuckwit.”