Chapter Three
“What will I do while you’re gone?” Charlotte Hollingsworth moaned before kissing Brian’s chest. Her light British accent tingled his ears.
He swatted her on the butt. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“I know I won’t,” Nikki Thatcher pouted.
Spooned between two voluptuous women, Brian lay on his back on his king-sized bed in his spacious one-bedroom apartment. While other students had to share suites, Brian’s parents had hooked him up in style.
One auburn-colored head and another dark-haired head graced each arm. He crossed his legs. What a place to be. “I’m sure neither one of you will suffer with your choice of men. Besides, I’m not going anywhere until the end of May.”
Nikki’s hand grazed his body. She gave him a sly smile. “We’ll keep you busy till then.”
“How did I get so lucky to have both of you?” Brian mused, bobbing back and forth between the two of them. Honestly, if he could merge the two of them into one being, he would have the perfect woman. Knowing him, however, he would still find something wrong. The problem was they were not a certain someone, who would remain nameless.
“It isn’t luck,” Charlie said. “It’s called skill. This has been one of the most satisfying eight months of my life.”
Nikki kissed his cheek. “I agree.”
“I need to help Karlie,” Brian explained for the third time.
Nikki shifted to rest her head in his arms. “What does she have that we don’t?”
Before he could answer, Charlie stood. “I’ve got to use the bathroom and head back to my dorm. I have papers to grade.”
“She’s my best friend,” Brian said to Nikki, once Charlie closed the door to the bathroom. “Karlie is like a sister to me.” He swallowed.
Liar.
Brian ignored the inner voice. He wasn’t ready to delve into those emotions.
Nikki snorted. “Please. I don’t believe you two never smashed.”
Brian turned to face her. “We’re friends. It is possible for a male and female to be platonic.”
Charlie opened the door and caught the tail end of the conversation. “What are we talking about? Let me guess, Karlie?”
Nikki sat up, unashamed of her nakedness. Eyeing her, Brian knew she had no reason to be. Her body was well toned from hours in the gym. “Yes. He’s trying to convince me, or rather himself, that they’re just friends.”
Charlie wiggled into her jeans and searched under the bed for the rest of her clothes. Though the lights weren’t on, the moonlight provided enough light to help in her search. Nikki dressed as well.
“You’re leaving too?” Brian asked.
The Puerto Rican beauty faced him. “I have a practicum at five-thirty in the morning and two classes to teach in the afternoon. I need my rest because you wore me out. I can’t be next to that soft butterscotch skin and not want more.”
It was half-past eleven, and Brian cracked a self-satisfied smile. Another satisfied customer. He looked at Charlie. Or, rather, two satisfied customers.
His cell rang. Karlie’s face flashed on the screen. Brian sat up and swiped to answer. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
Brian waved off the two women who blew him kisses. His mind was now preoccupied with the other person on the line. He swung his legs to the floor and switched on the small bedside lamp.
“It’s almost midnight, so this is not nothing.”
“Did I disturb you?” Karlie asked. “I didn’t even think that you might have company.”
He heard the slight hesitation in her tone and quickly reassured her. “I did, and they’re gone. Get on with it. What’s on your mind?”
Karlie sighed. “I can’t sleep. Winona called me. The record label isn’t sure they want to back my next project after such lackluster reviews.”
“That’s why I told you to start a YouTube channel. Once your stunts go viral, that will all change. Believe me.”
Another dramatic sigh resounded through the line. “I guess.”
“Where is your faith, Christian woman?” Brian asked. “You’re always telling me about God, and how He can do anything. Why can’t He do this for you?”
Karlie chuckled. “Not you voluntarily bringing God into the conversation. I’m usually the one trying to convince you to trust Him.”
Brian smiled. “Well, He must be growing on me.” He stood. Ugh. His lower back hurt. Uh-oh, he knew what that meant. While Karlie rambled about telling Jamaal and her parents about their plans, Brian ambled over to his closet. It boasted a huge mirror so he could investigate what was on his back. Sure enough, he saw the beginnings of an outbreak. Brian groaned, knowing what was coming next.
“Brian? Are you listening to me?”
Huh. What did she say? His brain couldn’t recall. “I got a little distracted for a second. Repeat your last sentence.”
“I said that I’m meeting up with Jamaal tomorrow to talk. I told him about my taking a semester off, and he wasn’t too thrilled.”
“Yeah, I saw him at the gym, and we talked about it. I tried to persuade him to tag along, but he shut me down.”
Brian wandered into his bathroom and opened a drawer. Rummaging around, he searched for his topical cream. It had been months since his last outbreak, and he had foolishly believed that he had been cured.
“I . . . Maybe this isn’t a good idea . . .”
He could almost visualize her playing with the bridge of her nose. That was her habit whenever she was deep in thought or unsure about something.
Brian put the phone on speaker and unscrewed the cap to his prescription ointment. “Karlie, there’s a time when you have to be decisive. The last thing you want is to look back at your life and have regrets. Consider this an adventure before you and Jamaal settle down to the proverbial white picket fence with two-point-one children.”
Karlie’s laughter echoed in the small space. “Thanks for being a good friend to me.” She emitted an unladylike yawn. “I’d better get some sleep. Professor Stewart does not tolerate tardiness. Her words, not mine.”
Brian saw The end sign flash across his screen. He twisted his body to get a look at the red blister on his lower back. With deft maneuvering, he applied the ointment. Then he washed his hands and trudged over to his bed. He lay on his stomach not wanting to soil the five hundred-dollar linens Patricia had insisted on purchasing when she decorated his space.
Psoriasis. How he hated the disease. He’d been twenty-one when he had suffered his first outbreak. At first, Brian had thought it was a rash or an insect bite, but then debilitating pain followed. That was when he had called his mom. Patricia referred him to a dermatologist who slapped him with the diagnosis. He had researched for hours to learn more about the incurable immune attack.
To make matters worse, Brian had psoriatic arthritis, which is why he felt such pain. Besides his lower back, his feet flared up sometimes. Lucky for him he could hide it. And he did.
No one except his parents knew about his psoriasis. None of the women Brian had been with knew, and he planned to keep it that way. The condition was not contagious so he was not worried about spreading it to anyone. But he was afraid. Afraid of being scorned and rejected.
Brian touched his lower back. His fingertips told him that this was a small flare-up. Relief seeped through him. That meant he would be able to function. He would know in a few hours if he would make it to his eleven o’clock class. Sometimes, the pain would become so unbearable that he cried like a baby.
Brian curled onto his side. He took deep breaths to relax his body and mind. He knew from experience that he needed to rest. With quiet determination, he closed his eyes.
“Lord, please,” he whispered into the night.
No one knew he prayed. It was always just those two words, but Brian prayed. When it came to his condition, he had no other choice.