My Brother's Best Friend Read online

  MY BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND

  by

  BECKY ANDREWS

  OTHER BOOKS

  In Your Arms

  The Forgotten Night

  My Brother's Best Friend. 1st Edition

  Copyright © 2013

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously.

  All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Also By Becky Andrews

  Special Note

  Updates

  Chapter One

  “God, I hate you!” I screamed at my laptop. “When do you ever work? I could throw you across the room, you piece of junk!”

  A soft chuckle sounded from the doorway of my room, and I looked up. “Oh, it’s you,” I said contemptuously.

  “Don’t sound so annoyed,” Devin Malone chided. “You know you love me.”

  “You’re talking to the wrong sister,” I told him, referring to my younger sister, Emily, who had a huge crush on him. “I don’t worship the ground you walk on, nor do I idolize you.” I smirked.

  Devin Malone was like a family of fruit flies. I could never get rid of him, no matter how hard I tried. He was my brother’s best friend, so he was always hanging out around our house. I’d long ago decided I hated the arrogant bastard. He could be the sweetest, most caring guy one moment and a self-important asshole, full of himself and proud of it, the next.

  “Shouldn’t you be bothering my brother?” I asked.

  “He’s not here yet,” Devin said, walking into my room and taking a seat at my desk. “Is there a reason you don’t sit at your desk?”

  I sighed. “You know I don’t like it when you’re in here.”

  “I like to think that’s because you can’t control yourself when we’re alone.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

  I stared at him for a moment, trying not to notice how handsome he was. His light brown hair was charmingly mussed, and his hazel eyes twinkled as he teased me.

  “Can you try not being an ass for once?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “All right, you got me.” He shrugged his broad shoulders.

  “Why do you always pretend to be something you’re not anyway?” I asked. I never understood why Devin went out of his way to treat girls rudely.

  “If I didn’t, the girls would be all over me.” He smiled when I shook my head. “Okay fine, the real reason?”

  “Yes.”

  He paused as if he were trying to think of something plausible. Something that I would believe. Instead he said, “Because if I wasn’t always such an ass, you might actually like me.”

  I crumpled up the piece of paper I had torn from my notebook and threw it at him. He only chuckled and threw it back at me.

  “Your reputation is that important, huh?”

  “No.”

  I gave him a quizzical look. “I’m confused.”

  “The right girl just hasn’t realized how great a catch I am.”

  “You are full of yourself, Dev.”

  He smirked. “That’s just what you choose to see. You just haven’t seen the true meaning behind my words. Think that one over, Sherlock.”

  I narrowed my eyes but shook my head. He was impossible sometimes. He was always so cryptic.

  “Christy, have you seen my hairbrush?” My baby sister stumbled into my room. I was sure she was just looking for an excuse to see Devin.

  “It was in the bathroom the last time I saw it, Em,” I said, slightly perturbed at her obvious ploy.

  She was a senior in high school, four years younger than me. She had almost every guy at school fighting for her attention, yet she still only had eyes for Devin. It made me sick, not because I liked him, of course not, but because Emily was not suited to Devin. Or maybe she was. She seemed like just his type. Blonde, heavy makeup, perfect tan skin, designer clothing—paid for by her brother and sister, I might add—and the shallowest personality imaginable. I’m not saying I don’t love my sister—don’t get me wrong. I would die if something happened to her. I’m just saying she could have done with a few more years of maturing. Maybe if she had concentrated more on school and actually learned something, rather than focusing so much on fashion magazines and cheerleading, I wouldn’t have been so annoyed with her.

  She was my complete opposite. It would be safe to say we were like day and night. I had straight, long dark hair and brown eyes, not the Barbie type at all. I was more concerned with my grades and how we would pay the bills on time, while she was more worried about her nails and what to wear to school.

  “Oh, hi, Devin. I didn’t realize you were here,” she said innocently.

  I almost burst out in peals of laughter. I mean, really? Could she hear herself?

  “Hey, Emily,” he said nonchalantly. He had learned over the years not to give her too much attention and that included calling her Em, as my brother and I so often did.

  “What are you guys doing?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” I replied. “Devin was just leaving. Maybe you two could go downstairs and watch some television or something? I’m working on an essay.”

  Devin glared daggers at me, giving a whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘if looks could kill’.

  “Really?” Em sounded bubbly.

  I regretted the words as I looked from my sister’s hopeful expression to Devin. I sighed.

  “Sorry Em, I was only kidding. Devin was actually helping me with my essay. I need someone to proofread it.”

  “Just get Mitchell to look at it later. I’m sure it’s not something Devin has to do,” she argued.

  “No, CJ’s right, I’m helping her with the last couple of paragraphs. I took the same class,” Devin said, rolling my desk chair towards the bed.

  Em glared at me. She hated it when Devin called me CJ. No one called me CJ except him. For that reason, it was an effective form of getting Emily off his tail when she was on the prowl.

  She gave a short, aggravated huff then marched out of my room. Her door slammed seconds later.

  I rolled my eyes. “Dev, you know she doesn't like it when you call me that. She hates me enough already. You’re just throwing fuel on the fire.”

  “Oh, she doesn’t hate you, CJ. She just hates that I call you, not her, by a nickname. Besides, it’s an effective form of inoculation. It’s a needed punch in the gut.”

  I shook my head. “You would think seeing you with a new girl every other week would deter her enough. God knows it deters me.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” I blushed then quickly looked down at my computer, which had frozen again. “God damn it. I hate this freaking computer!” I pushed it forcefully away from me.

  He chuckled “Why don’t you just get another one, if it’s giving you this much trouble?”

  “A little something that we don’t have just lying around for the taking. Money.”

  “Borrow Mitchell’s computer then. I’m sure he doesn�
��t use it while he’s at work.”

  I nodded and restarted my computer.

  “So did you lose what you wrote on your paper?”

  I looked up from the login screen. “Huh? Oh, no. I made the whole paper thing up. But I did lose the game I was playing. Man, I was up to five million points too.”

  “Pinball?” He laughed, wheeling the chair around to face my computer screen.

  “Yeah, I almost beat your score too. This sucks,” I added, annoyed.

  “You’ll never beat my top score.” He smiled.

  I couldn’t help but smile back. “If I do get a new computer, you are not allowed to play pinball on it, got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, trying to hold in his laughter.

  “Good.”

  “Christy?” I looked up and saw Emily standing in the doorway.

  “Hey, Em, what do you need?” I decided to play it cool. For all she knew, Devin and I were just messing around while my computer loaded again.

  “Mitch just called and said we shouldn’t wait up for him. He said you should just order pizza for dinner.”

  “Really? I wonder why he didn’t just call me?” I wasn’t sure if it was another ploy by my sister—this time to get rid of Devin—or if she was being serious. It was hard to tell with her.

  “I don’t know. He just told me to tell you.”

  “All right, what do you want?”

  Em hated anything greasy. “Whatever. Just get me a salad,” she said, walking off. Her door slammed shut again, and I turned to Devin.

  “Well, I guess you don’t have to wait here for Mitch anymore,” I tried to hint.

  “What and miss the pizza? Forget it, I’m staying. Besides we have a cover to maintain.”

  I just rolled my eyes. This was going to be a long night. I had my phone next to me and pulled it out.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Texting Mitch.”

  You really going to be gone for dinner?

  Yes, I’m out with Megan.

  Dinner & Movie.

  Just order something.

  I’ll be home late.

  ———————————

  Sent from the iPhone of Mitchell Walsh

  Fine.

  But Devin’s here and he won’t go away!

  Suck it up, Walsh.

  You can handle Devin.

  Tell him not to try anything.

  I’ll kick his butt.

  And you better not try anything.

  Or I’ll kick your butt

  ——————————-

  Sent from the iPhone of Mitchell Walsh

  EWWWWWW!

  I can’t believe you just said that.

  You are NEVER allowed to say

  stuff like that or I’LL kick YOUR butt.

  Tell Megan I said hi.

  Hahaha. Megan says hi and apologizes.

  She thought it was over the line too.

  So I’m sorry. You know I’m kidding.

  See you later, kid.

  ——————————

  Sent from the iPhone of Mitchell Walsh

  While I was texting Mitch, Devin pulled out his own phone. “What do you want to eat?”

  I looked up, putting my phone down. “You’re not staying,” I tried once more.

  “Why not? I’ll pay.” He smiled, and as much as I hated to admit it, his cheeky smile could get anyone to do anything.

  I narrowed my eyes, giving him no indication that I was susceptible to his charm. “Fine, but you’re buying me a Diet Coke.”

  He chuckled. “Deal. So what did you want to eat?”

  “I don’t care. I’m not paying.”

  “Yes, but you are eating it, so if you don’t want me to call the Indian place down the street, you’d better say something.”

  “No, please! Not that one! Anything but that!” I leaned forward and grabbed his phone from his hands and ended the call.

  Devin chuckled again. “Fine, what do you want?”

  “Stefano’s?” I suggested, handing him his phone.

  “Good choice. Olives and pepperoni?” he asked as he was no doubt looking up the number from the Internet on his phone. Lucky duck. The only feature my phone was capable of besides making phone calls was text messaging.

  “Yeah. Can we get another one with onion and bacon?” I asked, and he raised his eyebrows. “Mitch likes it. Stop looking at me like that. I’m not going to eat two entire pizzas.”

  “Maybe I should get a third, you know, just in case.”

  “I resent that,” I said, punching him in the arm.

  He laughed. I’m sure my punch was more like a tap to him. “All right, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just order the pizza. Oh, and don’t forget the garden salad for Em.”

  “Oh, yes, I can’t forget the salad,” he said sarcastically. “Does that girl ever eat anything other than a celery stick?”

  I laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask her tonight.”

  “Yeah, right. After what you pulled earlier, she’s going to be thinking I want to hang out with her in a non-‘she’s-my-best-friend’s-little-baby-sister’ kind of way.”

  I smiled as he put the phone to his ear and began talking to the restaurant. I turned to my computer and lost myself in a new game, determined to beat Devin’s score.

  “They said twenty minutes,” Devin said.

  “Uh huh, okay,” I mumbled. Seconds later, he jerked me toward him, and my hands slipped from the keyboard. “Damn it, Dev! You ruined my game.” I glared at him.

  He was trying to hide a smirk. “I’m sorry, CJ. I didn’t mean—”

  “Yes, you did!”

  “All right, so maybe I did mean to mess you up, but it’s only because you’re ignoring me.”

  “You’re Mitch’s friend, it’s not my responsibility to keep you entertained.”

  He shook his head and feigned sadness. “Are you saying you’re not my friend? I’m just Mitch’s friend to you?”

  I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly. “You can be so annoying sometimes, Dev.”

  “But that’s why you love me.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. I tolerate you.”

  “You’re a regular cynic.” He chuckled.

  “And that’s why you love me ,” I joked with him.

  “Finally, you understand.” He smiled back, nudging my side.

  I shut my laptop and climbed off the bed. “Come on, let’s go kill some brain cells.”

  “TV?” He sounded hopeful.

  I sighed and shook my head. “It’s a wonder you haven’t gone completely mental already. I still can’t believe you want to come home and watch television after you’ve been working with it all day.”

  “Okay, technically I don’t work with ‘television’ itself.” He smiled mockingly. I just rolled my eyes. “I work for a television show, but I work behind the scenes, making the magic come to life.”

  “Mixing sound in a studio,” I stated blandly.

  “Hey, it’s what brings everything together.”

  “I have to admit, you do make it sound very nice,” I admitted. “The actors aren’t bad either.”

  “Nice? That’s like saying I look pretty, rather than handsome. Nice is not an adjective you use to describe sound mixing. Brilliant, maybe, but not nice,” he said with no hint of a smile.

  I chuckled. “Fine. The work you do is brilliant, Dev.”

  “Wow, is Christy Joy actually complimenting me?” He laughed.

  Devin worked for ABC studios, specifically with their newest hit show. The show was in its third year and one of the most watched non-cable shows. It was about high school students (the actors weren’t even close in age to being in high school, I’d like to add) who were in an a cappella club, fighting their way to the top. I had to admit Devin did a great job of “sound mixing,” whatever the hell that meant. All I know is that every Wednesday when the show comes on at nine, it s
ounded crisp and clear, and I could set the volume level at 20 and never turn it up or down and still hear everything perfectly.

  “Yes, I suppose that was a compliment. And no middle names, Devin Theodore!”

  “That’s a family name. I couldn’t control that,” he said, collapsing onto one of the lounge chairs in the living room. He grabbed the channel changer off the coffee table and turned the TV on. “Anything you want to watch?”

  I shook my head. I was usually up for watching anything. I could even watch sports—shocker, I know. About the only thing I couldn’t watch was news and politics. I had to be in the right mood or it would just suck my spirit. Oh, and also some of the Health Channel programs. I could just about vomit with some of the stuff they showed on that channel.

  Devin flipped through the channels and even looked at the cable guide and found nothing he wanted to waste his time on. “Want to just watch Lost ?” he asked, getting up from his chair.

  “Sure, you know I’m always up for it. But put in Season 5, because I love it when they jump through time.”

  “You’ve always had a fascination with Season 5. I don’t understand it.”

  “I appreciate the absolute genius behind the two different timelines and how everything eventually comes back together. I mean come on, they are back in 1974! And then, by unearthing an atomic bomb, buried by their own advice back in 1956, they use said bomb to destroy the Dharma Initiative. I mean, seriously! How do they come up with such craziness? And by setting off the bomb it creates two futures.” I huffed in excitement and admiration.