Halfway Girl

by Bailey, Tessa

Like I know if I asked him to pull the truck over—right here and now—just so I could sit on his lap in the silence for a while, he wouldn’t even question it. He would provide that perfect, sweet solace for me, knowing I’m here to give it to him in return. I definitely don’t need solace right now, though. I’m freakishly content. That should scare me, right? It doesn’t. I’m feel more like myself than I ever have in my life.

  “I texted Naomi to tell her we’re coming,” I say. “She’d never forgive me if I didn’t give her time to perfect a signature drink for our visit.”

  Jerimiah’s lips twitch. “Did she tell your brother we’re coming?”

  “No.” I smile against my folded hands. “But I asked her to make sure Jason is holding the baby when we arrive. He’ll look a lot less terrifying with my nephew in a sling around his chest.”

  Briefly, he glances over at me. “Do you think I’m terrified?”

  “You don’t seem to be.” My brow knits. “Why is that? I’m probably going to have a panic attack when I meet your parents.”

  He glances over with an alarmed expression.

  “Not an actual panic attack,” I say softly. “I’ll just be nervous.”

  His big body relaxes. “I’ll admit to being kind of worried. That your brother won’t be on board with us moving in together. You’ve only been at school for a month and…” He expels a breath and shoots his reflection a glance in the rearview mirror. “I’m not exactly Prince Charming.”

  “Prince Charming was a chump. Wreck-It Ralph is more my type.”

  Jerimiah’s laugh makes me sigh like a lovesick fool. “Lucky for me.”

  “I’m the lucky one,” I murmur, reaching over to rest a hand on his thigh, my body tingling over the way his muscles shift beneath my palm.

  “Birdie.”

  I shiver over the way he rumbles my name. “Yes?”

  “What do you need from me?”

  This is what I love most about Jerimiah. His directness. I never have to guess with him. He doesn’t play games, he doesn’t lie, he doesn’t procrastinate. Not when it comes to me, anyway. He decides what needs to be said or done and goes to town. I’ve always played my emotions close to the vest, but direct is the only way I know how to communicate with him, too. As if we’ve stumbled upon the only other person in the world that speaks this one language. “I don’t need anything.” Noticing the way his huge thighs shift on the seat, my tongue escapes to wet my lips. “Not right this second, anyway,” I amend. “I was just wondering why you decided today was the day. To meet Jason and Naomi.”

  “You miss them. Yesterday you couldn’t say either of their names without slumping afterward. ‘Naomi loves that book’.” Jerimiah lets out a big sigh and his shoulders droop. “Like that.”

  My lips tug at one corner. “I didn’t notice I was doing it.”

  Jerimiah grunts.

  “Is my Eeyore impression the only reason?”

  “You know it’s not, Birdie.” He slides me another one of those forever looks. “When you go home at night, it feels like I’m being separated from my heart. It’s hard to sleep empty.”

  My breath rushes out, my fingers curling into the leather seat. “I hate it, too.”

  “I know. That’s the worst part. Knowing it’s hard for you.”

  I close my eyes and focus on the sound of my breathing. Sometimes the love between us is so intense, it’s an effort to keep my belly from flying away in the basket of a hot-air balloon.

  “Was that too much?”

  “No,” I say right away, my eyes popping open. “No matter what you say or do, it’ll always be the right amount.”

  His throat muscles shift, fingers stretching on the wheel. “Do you want to pull over?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  The word is barely out of my mouth when Jerimiah turns off onto a rest stop. He drives around back of the public bathrooms, easing the truck into an empty spot and cutting the engine. We unclick our safety belts at the same time he reaches for me, but when I normally would have straddled his hips and buried my face in his neck or kissed him…I find myself shaking my head. Crossing over the console and sitting in his lap, facing the steering wheel, my thighs open and draped over his larger ones.

  My back molds to his front automatically, his groan shifting the ends of my ponytail. That heavy, male part of him grows thick under my butt and I circle around on it, enjoying the feelings of being trapped between his big, strong body and the steering wheel.

  “I doubt we’ll be allowed to sleep in the same room tonight,” I whisper, drawing my skirt up to my waist, leaving one less barrier between my bottom and Jerimiah’s erection. His hands slide under the hem of my shirt to find my breasts and I gasp, loving the confident way he touches me now. Playing with my nipples, pinching them lightly. “Maybe we should be together now. While we can.”

  His hips lift and my mound presses against the bottom of the steering wheel, right there. Right over my clit. Zowie. “You know that won’t make me ache any less later.” He grinds me against the hard leather and I whimper, grabbing on to the wheel, hips tilting and flexing. “It might even make it worse, because I’ll still be fresh from your pussy. From feeling it, touching it, smelling it.”

  My neck muscles slacken and I moan. “Does that mean you want to stop?”

  Not even bothering to answer that stupid question, he reaches under my writhing backside and tugs down his zipper. “Push your panties to one side and work yourself down on me, beautiful,” Jerimiah rasps into my hair. “Until I can’t get any deeper. Give me what little room you’ve got.”

  Instantly, I’m a hot mess. Who wouldn’t be when he’s huge, hot, ready and saying things like that? I have no choice but to find his thickness with a shaky hand, position it between my thighs and gasp as I sink down slowly, until my ass meets his lap and we’re both breathing heavily, our lower bodies joined together so completely.

  “This is new,” his voice scrapes into my neck, his hands everywhere, riding up my throat, fisting my hair, smoothing down my thighs, squeezing my breasts. All the while, I sit on his lap and reel, so full I swear he’s occupying my stomach, my need multiplying with every rough, upward rock of his hips. “You don’t think I felt the way you’ve been watching me? You’ve needed me inside you since we left.”

  I gasp as he pulls out halfway and pumps me full. “I can’t help watching you. You’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful,” I ramble through gritted teeth.

  “If you’re the only one who ever believes that, baby, I’ll die happy. That’s all I’ll ever need.” His fingertips ride up my inner thighs, his middle one finding my clit and petting it lightly. And God, it’s such a turn on, the way he tries to be gentle with me because of our size difference. He can usually manage to hold back until the very end and I love that, too. When he’s lost control and needs to take. That time is growing close. I can tell by the way his hips are beginning to pump, lifting me and letting me smack back down, impaled to the hilt.

  “Jerimiah. God God God.”

  His finger presses tighter to my clit and jiggles it fast, the way I showed him. “You’re so tight and wet. Still can’t believe you give yourself to me like this. Christ, it feels so fucking good,” he rasps. “Next time, just say, ‘pull over and fuck me.’ Or lift your skirt and show me this pussy. I’ll find a way. I need you just as bad. Always, Birdie. Always.”

  That thick male part of him butts up against my G-spot again, again, again—and I come with a whimper, clinging to the steering wheel for dear life. Relief sweeps me from head to toe, twisting and releasing my muscles, leaving them limp. Though my body is replete, I focus on staying in the moment with Jerimiah. I force my thighs wide and I ride his slippery erection up and down, savoring the grated curses and the way he holds me like a priceless artifact while pounding up into me like nobody’s business.

  “Birdie,” he groans, ramming my hips up against the steering wheel, pressing me there as his muscular frame shakes and sticky moisture
fills me. It’s a glorious feeling giving someone I love pleasure—almost as addictive as taking it for myself—and I lay my head back onto his shoulder and revel in his bliss, memorizing his slack jaw and the teeth marks on his lower lip.

  “I love you,” I whisper, moments later. “Let’s go find out if we can live together.”

  “I love you, too.” Still panting a little, he kisses me softly on the mouth. “And it’s not a matter of if. It’s a matter of when.”

  Comforted, I turn on Jerimiah’s lap and let him stroke my hair until I start to get groggy. Half asleep, I’m only semi-aware of him climbing out of the truck with me in his arms, rounding the bumper and buckling me back into the passenger side. I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

  *

  Jerimiah

  Birdie wasn’t exaggerating.

  Jason is one big, mean-mugging motherfucker.

  Meaning, we’re roughly the same height and level of fear-inducing as we size each other up on the porch of his St. Augustine house. If there wasn’t a baby gurgling in the sling draped across his body, I might be less inclined to shake his hand, because he looks like he wants to break mine. I don’t blame him one bit. This is Birdie we’re talking about. I know what it’s like to want the best for her. To want her protected and happy.

  I’ve mostly stopped hating what I see in the mirror, thanks to my girlfriend and the way she looks at me. Like I’m her hero. But old habits don’t die easily, so I’m very aware of what Jason sees. His little sister just showed up with a giant whose default expression is pretty intense—I’ve tried to remedy that and it’s not something I can control. Not to mention, I’m a senior and she’s been in college for five minutes.

  Truthfully, I was ready to move in with her the night we met. I know that’s crazy. But if I hadn’t been worried about coming on too strong or scaring Birdie, I would have made this drive to St. Augustine much sooner. Jason can frown at me all he wants, but my soul mate is holding my hand with total trust so I already have the world. My goal is to make her world safer and I would go through fifteen Jasons to do that. I just need him to hear me out.

  A blonde woman peeks her head around Jason’s waist, a flawless white smile taking up half of her face. “Don’t you worry, Jerimiah. He looked at me the same way when I showed up.”

  “It’s true,” Birdie laughs. “He almost closed the door in her face.”

  The color bleeds from Jason’s face. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Imagine if Naomi had just gotten in her Range Rover and headed into the sunset,” Birdie continues, pursing her lips. “You would have missed out on getting to know what a great person she is. The last year never would have even happened—”

  “I get where you’re going with this,” Jason grumbles.

  “Good,” Birdie chirps. “That’s out of the way, now I can hug my nephew.”

  “I want a hug first!” Naomi says, teary-eyed, squeezing past Jason to throw her arms around Birdie, leaving me and Jason to continue sizing each other up.

  “My wife asked me to hold the baby on purpose,” Jason sighs, rubbing the infant’s bald head. “Lucky for you. I’m usually a lot more intimidating.” He squints one eye at me. “You’re not just here for a casual visit, are you?”

  “No, sir.”

  A muscle ticks in Jason’s jaw.

  I hold out my hand.

  He chews the idea over for a moment, but finally shakes it. “Naomi…”

  “Right. Oh! Right.” Birdie’s blonde sister-in-law bounces back into the house, calling over her shoulder. “My husband knows I like to play a proper hostess. Just give me ten seconds…” Silence ticks past as we all stare at each other. “Okay come in!”

  Jason steps aside to reveal Naomi holding a tray of what looks like lemonade in mason jars with little umbrellas sticking out of the ice. I bite the inside of my cheek and look down at Birdie, but she’s already patting me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s sugar-free, right, Naomi?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  I notice Jason watching me closely, but again, he’s rubbing circles onto the baby’s head, which really takes the bite out of his glare. “Birdie, come get Miles,” he says, dipping his bearded chin at me. “That’s the look of a man whose got something on his mind.”

  “Jason Bristow,” Naomi says, the South twined around her words. “We’ve barely exchanged pleasantries and you’re already carting off our guest.”

  “He’s right, ma’am,” I say, a picture of Birdie catching my eye from its place on the mantle. She’s on stage at what must be the beauty pageant she told me about—the one she competed in for her sister—speaking into a microphone and looking too gorgeous for words in a red dress. I wish I could go pick up the picture and examine every detail, but there’s too much on my mind that needs saying. “Thank you for the lemonade. But if you wouldn’t mind, I was hoping to speak with Mr. Bristow.”

  Naomi sets down the tray of drinks, plucks one up and pushes it into my hand. “At least take it with you.” She lays a hand on my forearm and whispers to me out of the side of her mouth. “Don’t worry, Jerimiah. He’s all bluster.”

  “I heard that,” Jason says, in the process of handing Birdie the baby boy, after which he gives his wife two, three, four lingering kisses, as if she might evaporate when he turns his back. “Come on. Let’s go talk in the kitchen. I have a feeling I’m going to need a beer for this.”

  With a nod, I start to follow Jason out of the room, but Birdie intercepts me, laying her head on my shoulder for a moment. I stand there and let her, enjoying the sight of her holding a baby. Enjoying the way contentment rolls off of her, just from being around her family. If coming home makes her this happy, I’ll bring her here every weekend if I have to. I’m not sure how long we stand there, but Jason eventually clears his throat and Birdie straightens, giving me a long, encouraging look before returning to Naomi in the living room.

  Jason and I enter the kitchen a moment later, and true to his word, Jason uncaps a beer at the refrigerator, pulling from the long, brown neck. “You want one?”

  “No, sir.”

  He sighs, jaw flexing once. “I don’t like surprises.”

  We face each other over the marble island where I set my lemonade and I wonder, as an ex-Special Forces soldier, how often Jason has been in this situation. Interrogating the witness. “I don’t like surprises either.”

  “Let me clarify.” Jason plants his fists on the island and leans forward. “The fact that you’re dating my sister is not a surprise. Birdie told my wife about you.”

  “So you already know everything about me? I was expecting that.” He raises an eyebrow at me and I raise one back. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  Jason regards me in stony silence. “It’s the showing up out of the blue. That’s the surprise I’m not too thrilled about.” His expression softens somewhat as he glances at the kitchen door. “Not that I don’t love having her home.” His eyes tick back in my direction. “All right, let’s hear it.”

  I tried to arrange talking points in my head on the drive to St. Augustine, but as I suspected, all of them sound like some lame business presentation now. There’s no choice but to open my mouth and start speaking, the way I would do with Birdie. The way she’s made it possible for me to do. “I haven’t told Birdie yet,” I begin, “but the football program is bringing me on next year as a defensive coordinator. After I graduate.”

  Saying nothing, Jason slowly tips back his beer and drinks.

  “I wouldn’t have had the confidence to speak to my coaches about the position if I hadn’t met Birdie. Wouldn’t have found my voice at all.” Thinking about the girl in the next room, I have to clear the creeping emotion from my throat. “I’m only telling you this so you’ll know, I’m not going to leave once I graduate and Birdie still has three more years in school. So many changes for her after Natalie—” Jason glances away. “I’m just letting you know I won’t be another change. I’m rooted.”

&nb
sp; He sets down his beer and crosses his arms. “Keep going.”

  “We want to move in together.”

  “Nope.” His smile is more like a baring of teeth. “That was easy.”

  “I’m just asking for you to hear me out. If that’s still your answer when I’m done, I’ll respect it.” I rub a hand over my short hair. “I know what this looks like. Believe me. I’m a quiet guy with very few friends. Real ones, anyway. I’m physically threatening. She’s almost four years younger than me—”

  “Thanks for making my case.”

  My mouth snaps shut. Too soon. I attempted this way too soon. Recognizing a forty-foot-high stone wall when I see one, I accept the fact that I won’t be scaling it today. Someday, though. I won’t give up. “You mind if we talk about one more thing?”

  Jason grunts.

  I take the brochure out of my back pocket and lay it down on the island. “I know Birdie can take care of herself, but she keeps putting off talking to you about getting a glucose monitor. She knows you’ve been busy with the baby, and…” He’s just staring down at the glossy booklet, so I flip it open and show him the contents. “It would mean no more finger sticks and it’s supposed to be pretty damn accurate.”

  Birdie’s brother peers down at the pamphlet. “Her endocrinologist recommended this last time I took her for a visit, but she didn’t bite.”

  “All due respect, I think she didn’t want to be a hassle.”

  “She could never be a hassle.” A few beats of silence pass. “When we talk on the phone, Birdie tells me everything is fine. That she’s taking care of her diabetes.” He blows out a breath. “Is she?”

  “She is. Yes,” I hedge. “Sometimes she forgets to eat breakfast, though. When she’s late for class or oversleeps. So I’ve started stashing granola bars in her bag. And juice, in case her blood sugar drops low.”

  Jason shifts. “Thanks for doing that.”

  I shrug off his thanks. To be honest, I don’t want to be thanked for doing things for Birdie. I just want it to be understood that I would do anything and everything for her. “Like I said, she can take care of herself. She’s…so amazing.” I swallow hard. “But she doesn’t want her condition to be a big deal, so sometimes I think that’s how she treats it.”