Flow (Grip, #0.5)

by Kennedy Ryan

She gives me the same knowing look she leveled on No-Game guy. Like guys have been looking at her like that for a long time. Like she can smell lust from fifty paces.

Like she’s telling me it isn’t happening. Oh, it’s happening, baby girl.

This is Rhyson’s sister. Shit. The hottest girl I’ve met in ages, and I should probably try not to sleep with her.

I know what he sees and probably what he thinks. Big black dude, arms splashed with tats, “First Weed. Then Coffee” T-shirt. He’s probably ready to piss himself. He’s like the Diary of a Wimpy Kid all grown up but still wimpy. I could squash him with my eyelashes.

It seems we’ve arrived at the same conclusion because No-Game Wimpy Diary guy turns without a word and pulls his suitcase behind him, docile as a lamb. “Impressive.” Bristol smirks but still doesn’t flash teeth. “Been trying to shake that jerk since La Guardia. I felt like spritzing every time he looked at me.”

Ever since he called my name and I looked up into eyes the color of darkened caramel, I haven’t drawn nearly enough air.

I’m actually here in part to convince him of it. I’m staking my entire college degree and career aspirations on him seeing things my way. People usually do see things my way if I play my cards right. My mother taught me to play my cards right.

She may not be much of a mother, but she’s a helluva card shark.

“The operative words being ‘Rhyson’s sister’, so pick your jaw up and say ‘Goodbye, Bristol.’” “Goodbye, Bristol.” A delightful smile creases Amir’s face.

I told myself that if he wanted to be my brother again, he’d call. Except he never did, so I called him.

It hurts to feel so connected to someone who obviously doesn’t feel as connected to me.

I roll my eyes so he won’t think his lines are actually working on me, though he does actually make me feel a little better.

Why am I even here? It’s obvious I’m the only one looking for any connection, any reconciliation for our family.

I give her a pointed look. I mean, seriously. How does she know Grip and I aren’t a couple? I’d be insulted if he were mine. Hell, I’m insulted, and he isn’t.

I’m not that guy. Usually I fuck them and then I leave them. That’s it. That’s all. And I can’t do that to Rhyson’s sister.

My shoulders, which have been tight since we pulled up in front of my dump apartment, relax an inch.

Grip. He’s an unexpected fascination, a tantalizing riddle I keep turning over in my head.

I’m the one who said he doesn’t have to keep me company, and now I’m complaining because he isn’t.

I learned early on that people aren’t careful with your emotions. They’re too self-involved to consider how their actions affect others.

I’ve seen it in Rhyson’s own disregard for our relationship and how easy it was for him to walk away, forgetting he had a twin sister on the other side of the country.

I protect my heart because no one else will.

Again, my heart is a scale out of balance, with my end taking all the weight.

‘Don’t wait for nobody to give you nothing. Even your education you have to take. If the one they offer you isn’t enough, make your own.’”

“I’m not wasting my lines on you. You’re the kind of girl who wouldn’t respond to bullshit anyway.”

I NEED TO put the brakes on this. It’s one thing to be secretly attracted to Rhyson’s sister. It’s another thing altogether to encourage her attraction to me.

“She looks good.” It’s so quiet that I finally look up to find Rhyson staring a burning hole through my forehead. We know each other too well. “She’s my sister, Marlon.” A warning lights his eyes. “Don’t mess with her. None of that chocolate charm shit you put on these other unsuspecting girls.”

“Rhyson,” she whispers, none of the irritation and hurt I’ve seen her fight all day evident. “You’re here.” “Yeah, I’m here.” I wonder if she notices how his laugh catches a little in his throat. “You’re here, too.”

She isn’t the kind of girl you mess over.

No, she isn’t the kind of girl you mess over. A guy needs to be very sure he wants her, and just her, before he makes a move. Yeah. A guy would have to be very sure.

I’m struck again by the contrast from last night when he was warm and open. This morning, he isn’t so much cold as he is indifferent.

“You know not to get all giddy over Marlon, right?” Rhyson watches me with big brother eyes. “I mean, he’s a great guy. My best friend, in fact, but he goes through girls like toilet paper.” “You mean he wipes his ass with them?” I ask with false innocence.

“Seriously, Bris, all the girls fall for Marlon, and he isn’t ready to be good to any one girl.”

If I hadn’t reached out, there’s no telling when we would have reconnected. Maybe never. Maybe he would have been fine with that.

“And me?” I blink at the tears blurring the vision of my brother in front of me. “Do I get anything else?”

“Then why are you here, Bristol? What do you want?” God, I come here with my heart bleeding on my sleeve, and it’s still not enough for him.

He isn’t ready to be good to any one girl. And I am but one girl.

“Sound Management?” Rhyson bunches his brows. “They manage some huge acts. What’s your major?” “Business. But my emphasis will be entertainment. Entertainment management is what I want to do.”

“Did Mother put you up to this?” Rhyson levels a cold stare at me. “I knew it. You come here all ‘I want my brother back’, but this is your agenda. Their agenda. To get me under their control again.” “Fuck you, Rhyson.” The words erupt from the pool of lava boiling in my belly.

“I’m the one who has made any effort to maintain a relationship between us, not you.”

“They couldn’t get me back themselves, so they use you to manipulate me.”

“Use me?” A bark of laughter hurts my throat. “Why would they ever think I had any influence over you? When have you ever cared about me, Rhyson?

If they didn’t know by the absolute disregard you had for me when you lived at home, surely they would have known by the way you cu...

“What would they know, Bristol?” “That you haven’t ever given a damn about me.” Emotion over- takes me, inundating my throat, burning my face, saturating my eyes. “They have to know that. I certainly do.”

“Look, this escalated fast. I shouldn’t have—” “No, you shouldn’t have.”

Rhyson propels a sigh, looking at me. “Bristol, I—” “Are we going to this club or what?” I cut him off, slicing a look Grip’s way. “Uh . . .” Grip’s eyes skid from me to my brother. “Maybe you should—” “Never mind. I’ll go by myself.”

How dare he question my motives? I’ve gone above and beyond to show him how important he is to me, and he insults me? Doesn’t trust me?

“He’s hurt?” I turn in my seat to face him, the seatbelt cutting into my chest. “He’s the one who left five years ago. He’s the one who acted like I was a nuisance every time I reached out. And then I come out here on my spring break, just to have him work the whole time. I swear he’s using it as an excuse not to deal with me.”

“You can’t control him, Bristol.” “Contr . . .you’re on his side.” Even though Rhyson is Grip’s best friend and I’ve only known him a day, I feel betrayed.

I believe he should be doing his own music, too, and he will. But he has to come to it for himself.”

“Were you serious about moving here when you graduate?” I nod and swallow my nerves as I wonder if he’s asking for Rhyson or if he might have a personal interest in my relocating to the West Coast.