What They Don't Know (Won't Hurt Them Trilogy #1) by O. Y. Flemming

type.”
    “Bullshit, Bria,
Bullshit!”
    “You asked; now you
don’t believe what I'm telling you? That's bullshit!”
    “Look at me.” He
grabs both sides of my face. “You look at me and tell me that
you’re not the girlfriend type, and that's the reason it won't
work.” I pause for a minute before I speak.
    “Honestly, Bry, it's
not me at all. It's you I have a problem with. It's not what you
think.” I lie… I have to lie. I've never lied to Bryant, but it
has become necessary these days. It'll hurt him, and me. Seeing him
hurt, seeing him pained because of me, my words will kill him. “I
can't be the girlfriend you need me to be. Your level of success; you
come from a different league, Bryant. I'm not trying to compete with
that. As your friend, you can say shit to me, which won’t phase me.
Things I normally feel; I don’t have to defend myself to you. As
your girlfriend, my feelings are more exposed, things change. Your
standards set for me would be too high. We both know I'm not a
high-standard type of chick. As your friend, I'm weird, annoying, and
that's fine. As your girlfriend, I'll have to be presentable and not
so lazy. I'll have you and me to be responsible for.”
    Bryant’s head is
lowered; he’s shaking it in disbelief. “And how is any of this,
because of me, Bria?”
    “Your standards are
too high, Bryant. I can't meet your standards.”
    “Again, I'm the
issue?” he questions with a high eyebrow.
    “Yes!” I yell.
    “BULLSHIT!” he
yells as he walks out of my bathroom.
    I follow him back to my
sitting room, where this conversation started. I know Bryant has a
mean streak, but I've only witnessed it once, so I'm cautious with
what I say.
    “It's not bullshit,
Bry; it's the truth.” Again another lie, where are they coming
from?
    “How long have I
known you, huh? This is the bullshit you feed me? My standards are
too high?” He scoffs. “Un-fucking believable, Bria?”
    “What do you want me
to say?”
    “The truth, why don't
you want to be with me? I’m successful. I'm easy on the eyes. My
body is healthy. I'm not a total ass to you. You said it yourself;
the sex is incredible. Do I not do it for you?”
    BING!
    I look away, and he
takes a step towards me. “Is that what it is? I don't do it for
you? Bria, answer me.”
    I stutter, “Wh-what
are you talking about?” I walk over to the island that separates my
kitchen and sitting room to put distance between us.
    “Do I do it for you?”
    “Do what?”
    “Don't insult my
intelligence, Bria; answer the damn question.”
    Bryant stops with his
pleas. He grabs my arms to hold me in place. In a low, angry voice,
he asks me, “Do I do it for you, Bria? Do I make your stomach flip?
Does your heart stop when I enter the room? Do you get wet at the
thought of me?”
    How
did he—?Lie, Bria, lie . “Bryant.”
    He scoffs. “That's
it; that's fuckin’ it!”
    He tightens his grip on
my arms, and I yelp. He lifts me to the center island in a swift
motion. “Bryant, please.” He lifts both my arms and locks my
wrists with one hand. He tears away my shorts with the other.
    “Bryant, no, please!”
    “Please what, Bria?”
    “Don't do this; this
isn't you, Bryant!”
    “What isn't? The part
of me making you so wet, you drip at the thought of me taking you
like this, huh? Is this what you want?”
    He rubs his fingers at
my sex; and of course, the body doesn't lie. I'm wetter than I've
ever been before, only from him forcefully handling me. He's never
gotten me this wet without drawn out foreplay.
    “Ah, so that’s it.
Bria likes to be man-handled.”
    “No, Bria doesn't!”
I yell.
    I try to break his
hold. I knew he was strong; but damn, he'll leave bruises on my
wrists at this rate.
    “Bryant, please, this
will definitely put a hole in our friendship; not like this, please.”
I start to panic because I'm scared. My eyes tear up because my best
friend is forcing himself on me, when there's no reason to. He can
have