Bad Influence

by Charleigh Rose

  “Mhm,” she prompts, folding her hands under her chin and listening intently.

  “They rented it out to a retired couple, and apparently forgot about it. By the time they figured it out, I was already packed and ready to go.” Not to mention, my mom had already sold the house and was on a plane to Hawaii. But I keep that part to myself. “I was staying with a friend at the dorms, but someone complained and, well… here I am.” I shrug.

  “Where’s your dad?”

  My chest squeezes at the mention of him, and I hope to hell I don’t do something stupid like start to cry. Grief is a weird thing. You think you’re doing fine. You think you’re over it, for lack of a better phrase, but the smallest thing can have you choking on despair. Scents. Places. Songs. Nothing is worse than being blindsided by a song, and with my dad, there’s a song for every occasion. “Alison”—my namesake—by Elvis Costello, “Good Riddance” by Green Day, the song I chose for his funeral, and pretty much anything by Radiohead are some of the biggest offenders.

  When I don’t answer right away, Lo continues. “You did used to come in with him, right? Or am I crazy?”

  “You’re not crazy,” I say, trying to keep my voice light and easy. Unaffected. “I didn’t think you remembered us. He was in a car accident last year. He didn’t make it.”

  “Shit,” she breathes. “I’m sorry. I never know what to say in these situations. Other than that sucks.”

  I huff out a laugh. “That it does.”

  “And your mom?”

  I sigh. “My mom…is a complicated creature.”

  “I get that more than most,” Lo says bitterly.

  “She thinks I’m at my grandparents’ vacation rental, and my grandparents think I have other arrangements until their place opens up.”

  Lo nods, appearing to consider something. Her lips twist as she studies me for long seconds, before seemingly coming to a decision, slapping her palms down onto the table.

  “What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.

  “You do now.”

  “I do now what? I’m not following.”

  “Have other arrangements. Get your crap. You’re coming with me.” She stands, gathering my stuff.

  “Wait. You’re not suggesting—”

  “That you stay with me? Yeah, I am.” Her eyebrow is raised in a challenge.

  “That’s super nice of you and all, but I can’t.”

  “I know that I was in your position not too long ago, and someone took a chance on me when I needed it the most. Without him, I don’t know where I’d be right now.”

  “Dare?” I ask. I don’t know their story, but it doesn’t take a detective to put the pieces together. Lo nods.

  Still, I can’t stay there. Jesse being the biggest reason. Besides the fact that I’d have to see him way more than I’d like to, how would that make me look? Like the stalker of the century, that’s how. Hey, I know we almost hooked up and then you ghosted me, but I’m going to move in with you and your sister. Hope you don’t mind!

  Not happening.

  “Look, I really appreciate it, but I’ll figure something else out.” I stuff my CD player into my backpack and Lo flattens her lips, like she wants to tease me about it, but refrains.

  “Listen, I get it. You don’t want to take handouts. But it’s temporary. Your situation has an expiration date. You’re my friend. I fail to see the problem here.”

  “I don’t know.” I sigh, rubbing at my forehead. It’s tempting. Really tempting. But it also feels like asking for trouble.

  “You can stay in my brother’s room until we get the spare room set up.”

  I give her an incredulous look, instantly shaking my head. Lo smiles her wide smile, laughing at my reaction. “I should probably mention that Jess doesn’t currently live there.”

  Oh. Oh. I assumed he did. Well, that changes things. Slightly.

  “Okay,” I concede. “It’s just for two months. I promise.”

  “Deal. Let’s go.”

  “What, now?”

  “Yeah. From the looks of it, you could use a shower,” she says bluntly, pointing at my crazy hair and wrinkled clothes from the day before.

  “I have to get to class.” I laugh, trying to smooth down my bed head with my hands. I’ll have to settle for brushing my teeth and a quick change of clothes in Halston’s dorm.

  “You have my number?” Lo asks, and I nod. Of course I do. I work for her. “Let me know when you’re coming over.”

  “Are you sure Dare will be okay with this?”

  “You let me deal with that.”

  Super comforting. Note the sarcasm. I swing my bag onto my shoulder and slip into my shoes before hurrying toward the door. If I leave now, I can make it on foot without being late.

  “Allison,” Lo shouts my name just as I’m pushing the door open. I pause, turning to face her.

  “What’s up?”

  She gestures to her chin. “At least wipe the drool first.”

  “How well do you know this chick?” Dylan asks belatedly. I told him I was moving in with Lo about an hour ago, and he just blurted it out. Clearly, he’s still thinking about it. I tilt my head to see him better from my position—lying on the couch with my head on his lap—as we watch some Quentin Tarantino movie.

  “Well enough.” I lift a shoulder. He peers down at me, those dark eyes framed by thick lashes. Silver hoop in his lip glinting in the light cast by the TV.

  “Any roommates?”

  “Just her boyfriend.” I don’t mention the fact that Lo is Jesse’s brother since he seems to have some weird beef with him. I sit up and face him, crossing my legs on the cushion. “Why have you been so weird with me lately?” I finally ask the question that’s been bugging me.

  Dylan works his jaw, his eyes locked onto the screen, not meeting mine. “I haven’t.”

  “You’ve been ignoring me,” I accuse. He doesn’t deny it. “And now you’re getting all big-brother-y on me.”

  He huffs, shaking his head. “What?” I push, needing him to give me something, but getting Dylan to talk to me is like pulling teeth. I know he had it rough growing up, and whatever he went through has made him more guarded than Fort Knox.

  “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

  “Like what?”

  “Not important. So, you want a ride? Show me your new place?” Dylan helped me grab the rest of my stuff from Halston’s dorm after class, so it’s already in his car.

  “Sure.” I know he’s changing the subject, but I let him get away with it. For now.

  “Are you sure this is okay?” I ask. Dare’s on a stool, sketching something out at the counter while Lo cooks. It’s all very…domestic. I feel like an interloper, standing in the middle of their kitchen with my hands in my back pockets, not having a clue how to act or what to do. This right here is why I’d rather be at the restaurant.

  “Would you stop asking that?” Lo says, turning away from the stove to point her spatula at me. “It’s not a big deal.” When Dare doesn’t say anything, she plucks a grape from the bowl next to her and pegs him in the head with it. He looks up at her with a scowl and she raises both eyebrows, jerking her head in my direction.

  “Better you than Adrian,” he says, barely sparing me a glance. I don’t know who Adrian is, but I’ll take it. Lo snorts.

  “This is not an either/or situation. Once Adrian catches wind of her being here, you really think he’ll stay away?”

  Dare drops his pencil onto the pad of paper and stands, making his way over to Lo. He cages her in, both hands braced on the counter behind her. I’d probably shit my pants if I were her, but she simply smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Just another reason we should get away for a while. Just the two of us,” he says pointedly.

  “You know I can’t right now.”

  “Why not?” he pushes, and I get the feeling this is an ongoing conversation.

  “I’m just going to grab a shower,” I say awkwardly, hitching a thumb beh
ind me before I slink away.

  “Towels are under the sink!” Lo yells after me.

  After hightailing it upstairs, I go to Jesse’s room—my room for the time being—and sit on the edge of the bed. “This is weird,” I mutter to myself as I take in my surroundings. The walls are stark white and bare, free of any holes, telling me he didn’t have any pictures or posters on them. Back home, my walls were painted black—one of the few times having a hippie, carefree mother who allowed me to express myself came in handy—and almost completely covered in posters of my favorite bands, album covers, records, and pictures from concerts. My room told a story about my life and who I am. This room is devoid of any personality. This room tells no story.

  Morbid curiosity taking over, I stand and open the drawers of the black dresser. They’re all empty. I check the nightstand next, finding nothing but a pack of condoms. I slam the drawer shut, turning for the closet. Sliding the white wooden door open, I find a beat-up skateboard with the grip tape peeled halfway off the deck. I turn the board over to see faded stickers of various skate brands and Jesse carved into the wood in jagged letters.

  Lacrosse player. Asshole. Playboy. Skater? How many personalities does this guy have?

  I grab a change of clothes from my suitcase before slinging it and my other bag into the closet, then head for the bathroom for a shower. A shower that I don’t even have to wait in line for.

  Home sweet home.

  The first three days at Lo and Dare’s, I felt awkward and on edge. I kept looking over my shoulder, as if Jesse was going to pop up at any moment and I’d have to explain why and how I’m in his sister’s house but, thankfully, he doesn’t come. He may not be here physically, but his face is everywhere I turn, taunting me. In the hallway next to my room hangs a framed diploma, a scholarship letter with his Lobos logo, and a picture of him and Lo at his graduation, cigarette dangling from his lip, appearing aloof as always, but the happiness shining through his eyes is unmistakable.

  The refrigerator is full of pictures, too. Most of them are of Jesse wrestling and playing lacrosse, but there’s one photo that always gives me pause. It’s a young Jesse, sitting on a tattered couch with a southwestern print. His too-long hair hangs in front of one eye as he holds a skateboard on his lap. Jeans ripped at the knee, once-white socks that are almost black on the bottom, and no shirt. The carpet around him is stained and the table in front of him is cluttered with dirty dishes and various takeout boxes. His eyes are purple underneath, and he’s way too skinny, but he smiles like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  Other than the guilt of feeling like I’m hiding something from Lo by omitting the truth about my history with her brother and having to be reminded of his existence at every turn, I like staying here. Both Lo and Dare work a lot, and I have a lot more time to myself than I thought I would. Like right now, they’re both closing tonight, so I have the house to myself. Plucking a black bikini from my bag, I make quick work of getting changed. Lo told me to help myself to the Jacuzzi in the backyard, but I didn’t want to risk using it when other people were around.

  I grab my phone and wrap my towel around myself before heading downstairs. When I don’t see or hear anyone, I make my way through the kitchen and out the back door. Once outside, the night air chills my skin, and I shiver, hurrying to open the top of the Jacuzzi. I spread my towel out on the closed portion of the cover and hit shuffle on my playlist. I rarely ever listen to music on my phone, but headphones and hot tubs don’t mix. “Criminal” by Fiona Apple starts to play as I twist my hair up into a messy bun. I dip my toes into the blissfully hot water and slowly submerge the rest of my body.

  I fiddle with the controls until the jets come on, then sit with my back to one of them, my head resting on the ledge. I close my eyes, singing along, as I feel my body start to loosen with each minute. I don’t know why or how it happens, but suddenly, Jesse pops into my mind uninvited. My subconscious and I don’t get along, because this seems to be her favorite pastime—torturing me with memories of the night I’d rather forget ever happened. I can almost feel him on my skin, feel his hips shifting between my legs before pressing against me.

  I’m pathetic.

  With the hot water on my sensitive skin, the jets vibrating against me, and thoughts of Jesse, I start to feel a familiar stir between my legs. My pulse quickens, and I squeeze my thighs together to ease the ache.

  Hot tongue flicking against my nipples. Hazel eyes peering up at me.

  Fuck it. It’s been too long since I’ve had any kind of release. Maybe if I give my body what it wants, it will stop reacting to Jesse like a bitch in heat.

  My hand snakes down below the bubbles, finding the heat between my legs. I rub myself through the fabric of my bathing suit, slowly at first. I allow myself to imagine it’s Jesse touching me, my legs parting slightly. My hand moves faster, my breath coming in quick, short pants. Biting my lip, I feel my orgasm building. I hold my breath, waiting for it to wash over me…but then it slips just out of reach. Gone. Just like that.

  “Ugh.” I let out a frustrated growl, slapping at the water.

  “Need a hand?”

  My eyes fly open to see Jesse standing in front of me as I jolt up, water splashing everywhere before I sink below the bubbles from the jets. The lingering arousal coursing through me is instantly replaced with dread, my stomach twisting and ears burning with embarrassment.

  “What the hell! What are you doing here?” I shout, folding my arms over my chest.

  “What am I doing here? Last I checked, this is my house.”

  “Not anymore!” I reach behind me for my towel, but I come up empty. I spin around, knowing I left it right here.

  “Looking for this?” Jesse taunts, dangling my towel from his fingers. Oh God. If he was out here long enough to snag my towel without me noticing… I can’t even finish that thought.

  Calling on counterfeit confidence, I stand and step out of the hot tub, ignoring the light-headedness I feel, and march up to him. “Towel,” I demand, holding my hand out.

  “Come get it.” When I get close, he pulls his hand back, forcing me to come closer. I step forward, my wet chest nearly touching his. I’m dripping on him, leaving a puddle at our feet, but he doesn’t back down, and neither do I. I reach for it, but he smirks, raising his arm above his head. I roll my eyes and press up onto my tiptoes. My chest rubs against his and his eyes lock onto where our bodies meet. I take the opportunity to jump up, finally jerking the towel from his grasp.

  “I win.” I smile, quickly wrapping it around me, forcing myself to take unhurried steps as I walk away from him.

  “I just wanted to see your tits bounce, so who’s the real winner here?”

  I look over my shoulder to scowl at him.

  “You played your role perfectly, though,” he praises.

  * * *

  THE MOMENT ALLISON’S OUT OF sight, I adjust my dick that strains against my pants. I knew she’d be here alone, so I couldn’t resist coming over to see my little plan come to fruition with my own eyes. But the boner gods were really smiling down on me, because I never thought I’d find her getting herself off. Half-naked. Wet. Fuck. I got the first good look at her body, because that night in the dark dorm? Didn’t even come close to doing her justice. Small, hourglass figure. Fat ass. Don’t even get me started on those tits.

  After zero deliberation, I seek her out. I already spotted her stuff in my room when I got here, so I head for the stairs. So much for always having a place to come home to. But I’m not complaining. In fact, it makes this all a little sweeter, knowing she’s already in my bed. I take the steps two at a time, then push the cracked door of my bedroom open. Allison’s already dressed, another baggy shirt that falls mid-thigh. Bare legs. Her hair is still up high on her head, the still-wet baby hairs stuck to the skin of her neck.

  “Remind me again why I can’t fuck you.”

  “Maybe because you say things like that,” she says, nose scrunched, cheeks re
d.

  “You’re blushing,” I accuse. She’s actually fucking blushing.

  “I’m overheated.”

  “Obviously.” I take a step closer.

  “From the Jacuzzi,” she deadpans, rolling her eyes. She scoops her wet bathing suit off the floor before walking into the attached bathroom and tossing it into the hamper.

  “You keep telling yourself that.”

  When she comes back into the room, she stands on the opposite side of the bed, putting distance between us. “Look, I’m sorry if it’s weird that I’m here. Your sister doesn’t like to take no for an answer—”

  “Runs in the family.”

  She ignores my interjection. “And it’s just temporary. She doesn’t know about our…” she rambles, trailing off as she gestures between the two of us.

  “Our…?” I prompt, eyebrow raised.

  “Our…transgression.”

  “Transgression? Is that what we’re calling it?”

  “Well, what would you call it?”

  “Blue balls. I’d call that blue balls.” She snorts out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

  “Despite your best efforts, no.”

  “You’re a terrible liar.”

  “Can I ask you a question? One you’ll actually answer with a serious response?” she asks, ignoring my accusation.

  “Shoot.”

  “Why did you leave like that? I mean, you seemed into it, and then…” Her hand falls, slapping against her thigh.

  I give her a lazy smirk. “Is that what you think? That I just lost interest?”

  “What the hell was I supposed to think?”

  I move around the bed, eating up the distance between us. “Leaving before I got the chance to fuck you will go down as one of my biggest regrets. My dick is still mad at me.”

  She laughs, shaking her head.

  “I’m serious. I got a phone call that I couldn’t ignore.” The same kind of phone call that eventually led to me getting kicked from the team. The same kind of phone call that is forever fucking up my shot at a normal life. “Now that that’s cleared up, ready to finish what we started?”