Fade Back (A Stepbrother Romance Novella) by Stephanie Brother

ventured, and Karen shook her head and grinned broadly.
    "Nope! You've done your wallowing, girl. It's time to take your medicine."
    Becka groaned and drank from her fizzing glass. 
    "So, that salad looks great, guys, but I for one am going to need to eat it on top of a pizza,” Jerome said, bouncing into the kitchen with his empty glass and phone, dialing on speaker before wailing down the receiver: "Yeah, a large cheese pizza, stuff that crust from both ends, and if there's any olives, I will destroy your world, ohhhhhhh and extra sausage? You know I'm going to need extra hot thick sausage..." 
    The other three looked at each other and smiled, and then they laughed.
    "You gays,” Karen snorted at Jerome when their giggling finally subsided. "Always with the god damn sausage cracks. That pizza place must be so over it."
    "Oh, come on, Karen, it's the highlight of their day! Who doesn't want to hear fifty cracks about thick sausage pizza from drunk gay guys?"
    "Well if it get's them through the day, then well done, Jerome!"
    "To Jerome!" the man himself called out from the kitchen, and the three started laughing all over again, clinking their glasses and draining the cocktails therein, toasting to dear Jerome and his bottomless reserve of penis jokes. He returned bowing and bearing the bottle, dispensing with the niceties of lime and soda in favor of the simpler slugs of white rum as required. Becka was at the warm heart of their group, cradled by the couch and her dearest friends, and she thought that maybe all this wouldn't turn out so bad after all. But rather than think of the future, she simply sat there, and just let herself enjoy the moment.

Chapter Fourteen
    B ecka inhaled sharply and took the first few steps toward Dickie’s Emporium. She thought about stopping for a chai latte but she didn't feel like facing the cute guy behind the counter. Alex? Yeah, Alex. Becka was determined to start using names if she knew them. Her old habit of discarding every detail of her conquests didn't seem so fun anymore from her new perspective.
    She’d finished the Bacardi and ate pizza and salad with her friends, as they did a full inventory of their bad habits and vowed to be better. Becka knew Jerome wasn't really going to stop scaring people with outrageous proclamations, and Karen wasn't going to be nicer to customers, and Mick wasn't going to call his mother every week. But even beset by these minor issues, to Becka, her friends were perfect. It was she who needed to change. 
    She started by booking an appointment through Karen. She kind of hated that she wasn't strong enough to just call Fitz and get things going again, but she really wanted to be face to face the first time she spoke to him after their forced fall-out. She didn't want to hear that doubt-tinged voice, the hints of sadness and dashed hopes; she didn't want to hear Fitz tell her No over a tiny little speaker. 
    So she kept her appointment. She showered and dressed. She didn't bother trying different outfits, or twiddling with her hair. She knew she looked a little sallow in the reflections of the store windows and sleek cars lining the curb. She was here to get her tattoo finished, and maybe, maybe, convince the love of her life to ignore their parents and start things afresh. Her palms were sweating, and she wiped them on the flanks of her black jeans. Her heartbeat rang in her ears as she wrenched the door to Dickie’s open, and the familiar scene beckoned her further. She and Fitz had kissed leaning against this desk, under that light, on that couch. After her first session, they'd kissed their way to the door, unable to extricate themselves from their passionate grip. It felt like a movie now, or a cartoon. Two grown people making out like lovestruck teenagers. It dawned on Becka that everyone was like a lovestruck teenager: that's what love does. Young or old, everyone is as fresh, and new and vulnerable in love as the very first time. Some just