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Audio CD
First published July 16, 2019

Karma finally bit him in the ass. He’s hurt.”
In the last few years, they’d merged his name with a Victoria’s Secret model and a handful of Hollywood starlets.
Why was I standing before him like a lovesick idiot?
This was the man who broke it all apart.
But I’d met him first. He was mine. I found him and brought him home. Nathan just stole him out from under me. That’s how I lost Brayden. The first time.
On the rare occasions I wandered by his locker, I never found him alone. The last time I’d ventured by, he hadn’t found a chance to even notice me. His eyes remained closed while he half-molested some girl. Her back was pressed up against the lockers, but the rest of her was pressed firmly up against him. I tried not to play the voyeur, but it felt like flipping through channels and happening upon an R-rated movie your parents would never let you see.
I struggled not to mentally outline the differences between what I saw in the mirror and the girls Brayden always picked. They were polished and beautiful, ripe with womanhood. I’d only ripened with envy.
Every guy in school would have stood in line to take my place. Whitney Hamilton had the body of a Playboy model and a reputation for loud sex. She was a screamer.
We saw him at the movies a couple weeks later with a tub of popcorn in one hand and Tanya Forde in the other.
Then, he dropped Nathan off at the marina one afternoon with Hannah DeSantos in his passenger seat.
Tanya Forde beamed up at him, too dumb to know his attention would never last.
“Keep your lips to yourself. Lay off the whiskey. And, don’t mistake me for one of your playthings ever again.”
I’d spent the summer working my way through a handful of girls most guys would have been more than happy to have bouncing on their dicks. Miranda Ramos. Leona Merritt. And Heather fucking Franco.
I’d gotten drunk and somehow ended up with Coral Lynn one night, after another bonfire just like this one.
Ashley had also been there the night I ended up having sex with Whitney and Hannah—not together, just on the same night.
The good news was, she’d stopped talking. The bad news was, her tongue down his throat was what had cut her off. Coming here had been a very bad idea. Brayden didn’t need a superhero. He already had someone giving him mouth-to-mouth.
“Get off me. Don’t you dare touch me with hands that were just up Coral Lynn’s skirt. I saw you with her before. I’m not some cheap slut who takes seconds,”
“You can’t waste yourself away, waiting for him to figure things out.”
Tell me when acting like a cheap slut became your idea of a good time?” “I guess it started when I had to watch you, drunk and high, with your hands all over Coral Lynn.” As her name crossed my lips, I batted his hand away.
Please, baby. Tell me this is still all mine.” “Brayden, I’ve never wanted anyone else to touch me like this.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank fucking God. I was so scared I was too late.”
Naked sheets and tangled up legs. The smell of sex and the jagged remnants of my heart.
Brayden lay on his back. Stark naked. His arms stretched out on either side of him. Head tilted back. Eyes closed. His body kind of twitched a little, wavering like he swayed to the drumbeat of a song stuck in his head. He hadn’t heard, hadn’t noticed, or didn’t care that we’d entered the room. Oblivious or irreverent. I couldn’t tell. The foil of a guilty condom wrapper lay torn on the nightstand beside him. Shiny purple. His brand.
“He took some junk that stoner guy gave him,” Coral Lynn sneered. “Whatever it was, it went straight to his dick.”
“What’s going on is, you decided to fuck Coral Lynn.”
“What’s going on is, you’ve just made it official,” I added. “You’ve completed your schooling. Congratulations. You are hereby declared a graduate of the Jackson Ross School of How to Fuck Up Your Life. You’ve completed the circle, Brayden. You should’ve driven over to the school, so you could’ve gotten high and had sex with the whore in a locker room. Just like your daddy.”