Like Brother Like Sister

Chapter 5: There's No Impression Like a Fist Impression

Chapter 5

Brinkley's Pov

"Well, I was never good at first impressions," I thought rolling my eyes as I stared at my unconscious brother, lying in a heap in his driveway.

There were so many different ways I could have told him this life changing news!

I could have eased him into the fact that he has a sister, been a tad bit more gentle; hell, even shown him our birth certificates that show matching heritage!

But noooooo! What do I do? Blurt it out as if we were discussing something as menial and bland as the weather in winter or cream of wheat. Mom was right, I really need to check my filters every once in a while.

And just like that, a sharp pain bloomed in my chest when the three letter word popped in my head. I knew it would get easier, turn into a dull ache and eventually I would become numb to the pain and be able to smile without a mask. But I can't wallow, I swore I wouldn't wallow. She hated when I was throwing a pity party. Which is why I'd have the urge to just party instead.

I gave into that urge last night. Which explains why I ended up at some popular club a few miles from my hotel. I just wanted to dance, get lost in the music, have a drink or two, flirt with a handsome stranger and then come back to my room before sunrise. You know, blow off some steam.

My girl friends and I would do this routine back home all the time. Man the stories we could tell!

We'd sneak out passed curfew and hit the nearest club, get tipsy, stop the feeble attempts of all the douche bag guys, most of the time I wouldn't give them the time of day but my friends thought it would fun to tease them, then the unlucky DD would drive all of our drunk asses home a little after 4.

The next morning, or afternoon mom would have cooked a big brunch for me and we'd sit and talk about my night. She was the best.

Luckily, the Drone turned in early and was staying a few floors below me, so sneaking out was a breeze. Mom must have been looking down on me.

When I stepped up to the club with my shoulders back and head held high. I didn't bother with the line. I was blessed with good looks and knew how to use them. Not in a slutty way, but in a sophisticated I've got standards kind of way. I flashed the bouncer my fake ID and was waved in. I didn't bother with the bar I just wanted to dance.

The rhythm of some new song, that had "topped the charts" relaxed my strained muscles. It wasn't so much the words of the song, but the actual music behind it.

My body took over as I moved to the middle of the dance floor, hips swaying with each purposeful step. My mind went blank as the music filled me.

This, this was therapeutic. I was lost in the beat and euphoria of the music while ignore the amount of sweaty bodies practically having sex on the dance floor I almost didn't notice a pair of arms snaking around my waist. I didn't bother turning around because frankly, I didn't care what this guy looked like. I was here for my escape from reality and if he was going to help me so be it.

His breath tickled my ear, "Usually I'd use some dumb pick-line on you, but honestly you are way too damn beautiful for that bull shit. So will you honor this humble guy with a dance and let him buy you a drink?"

That could have very easily been a pick-up line. If it was, it was a damn good one. The night passed in a music filled haze. We danced, talked, laughed, it felt really good to laugh. I never got a good look at the guy, the dark club and streets to the hotel didn't help. Only learned his name, Ford. I felt bad ditching him, but there was no freaking way I was jumping into bed with him when I'm upset, it's kind of a rule. Sex is for when you're happy not sad, that leads to trouble. I was just lucky that he got a room at my hotel. As I laid in bed I thought it was a shame I'd never see Ford again.