The Guy on the Right

by Kate Stewart

  “How much has she had?” I ask, nodding toward the way she went.

  “Not enough to knock her out, unfortunately,” she mutters annoyed while trailing Devin’s retreat over her shoulder before looking back at me. “She’s curious because I spoke so highly of you. I apologize.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I like her. She’s your other half, right?”

  Laney bobs her head. “Oh, most definitely.”

  I can tell she’s mildly buzzed.

  “I had a friend like that back home.”

  “Yeah? Where is home?”

  “Houston.”

  “Ah, big city boy,” she says, casting her eyes down.

  “Not a fan of Houston?”

  “Sure.” She licks her lips.

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “Meh, my dad lives there. We don’t talk much.”

  “Oh, sorry to hear that.”

  She shakes her head in annoyance. “Let’s not let this get weird, okay? No matter how hard Devin tries to rile us.”

  “Fine with me.”

  She raises her foamy beer. “To living our realest life. Cheers.”

  “Cheers.”

  We finish our beers, and I head to the bar to order more. When I get back to the table, the girls are warding off the advances of a group of guys. I nudge my way in and pass out our beers.

  “Thanks,” Laney spouts loudly, “but, you can go, we’re all set.” I meet all inquiring eyes and see the confusion in each of their faces. I shrug in a ‘what can I say?’ way.

  “You’re serious? You’re with this guy?” The taller of the milk and grain fed three—who all have my height beat by a considerable amount—asks, scrutinizing me with clear skepticism.

  “No offense taken,” I salute him with both my beer and stretched middle finger.

  “I can guarantee he’s got several inches on you,” Devin joins in snidely, “and I mean horizontally.” She stretches out her hands in length for demonstration and gives me a wink.

  I wink back.

  The clueless dick leans in while snaking his arm around Laney. His hand slides dangerously close to her ass, just as she lifts a book of matches from the unused ashtray on the table.

  “You ever seen a match burn twice?” she asks him with a sickly-sweet voice.

  I bite my lips to keep from smiling as he leans in with a “No.”

  She strikes a match studying it as if it has some mysterious power and he leans in watching it with her, oblivious and gullible to her charms before she shakes out the flame and presses it to his offensive hand. He jumps back with a curse.

  “And now you have. Now kindly get your paws off me before I show you my next trick.”

  “Whatever,” the guy grumbles before he lifts his chin in signal and the three of them stalk off.

  “That’s right, boys, fuckoffsky!” Devin yells at their retreating backs.

  She giggles and Laney rolls her eyes, grinning up at me. “She’s ten sheets. We’re going to have to call it an early night.”

  “Oh no, you don’t! I’m living it up tonight. My fiancé will come fetch me when I’m damned good and ready. You will not police me, Elaine Cox.”

  “I’m not babysittin’ you, either.”

  “Lordy woman, you’re like the damn Hitler against happiness these days.” Devin raises her finger beneath her nose to make a fingerstache. “Is dat a smile, Fräulein? No smiling, Fräulein! Nech bin doust nech plaque!” she spits between us.

  Laney jumps back and dramatically places a hand on her chest. “I’m pleasant. Damnit! I saw Drum Eatenton this morning at the Piggly Wiggly, and I smiled at the son of a bitch ‘fore I could help myself!”

  I look between them, both confused and entertained, as they crack up.

  “Inside joke,” Laney snorts, gauging me. “It’s from a movie.”

  “Blasphemy! It’s not just a movie, it’s the southern woman’s bible!” Devin proclaims, raising her beer to toast Laney.

  “Amen.”

  They both drink as the music changes, morphing into a steady thrum of bass and Devin’s eyes widen. “Oh my God, we need to dance, now, right now.”

  “Because a minute from now is too late?” I ask, egging her on.

  “Such a smart ass,” Laney grins at me.

  “I love it!” Devin proclaims before turning to Laney. “I like him so much.”

  “You love everyone right now, Devil. They don’t call it Jesus’s Juice for nothing.”

  Devin facepalms her and grins at me. “She said you were adorable,” her head wobbles on her neck as she begins to slide down the side of her chair. “And I must agree.”

  The foot-long dick I just gained by word of mouth shrivels up as I avoid Laney’s eyes while she hoists Devin back up in her chair, sitting her upright and snatching her beer.

  This is most definitely not a date, not if the word ‘adorable’ was used when she described me.

  Adorable translation—my penis will never enter her vagina. But she will use me at her leisure, like a stuffed animal. I’ll be there for comfort on long, lonely nights; and she will drag my ass around by the arm until I’m filthy, my limbs are ripping apart at the seams from neglect, and my insides are coming out.

  I’ve most definitely been friend-zoned, or in my case, Teddy’d.

  “I meant that in a good way,” Laney explains after weighing my expression. I chew it over for a second.

  “You know, I thought the same thing about you when I first saw you.” It’s the truth. I did think she was adorable. And I’d thought the same tonight when I saw her. It’s just far more flattering on her side of things. For me, it’s the kiss of fucking death.

  For the next half hour, I watch as Laney stomps on the foot of any guy who gets within a few inches of either of them. I’m mildly entertained but feel like I’m a third wheel. While I watch, I try so hard not to memorize her movements, but it’s proving impossible. I’m so in tune with the way she works herself that I have to adjust my junk twice. She is far more than adorable, but I refuse to let myself fixate.

  Laney is the first to make it back to the table, lifting her hair to wave a hand beneath the sweaty strands. “Whew, hot.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to agree, but that’s flirting. And I shouldn’t be flirting, because I’m adorable.

  Fuck.

  It occurs to me then, that on some level I had hoped it was a date.

  She looks over to me and thanks me for the water I gathered while they were grinding on air. “I only came here because she loves it. She doesn’t get out much. I got over this place after a few semesters at Grand.”

  “Is she a student?”

  “Part-time at Junior, her dad owns Hardin Sports. She works at the headquarters here.”

  “Ah.”

  “So, if you need a discount on balls, I’m your gal.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” More silence ensues as we both observe our surroundings. I can feel her eyes on me. “You talked a whole lot more in the yard, and at the grocery store,” she sips at her water.

  “I gave you a lot to work with.”

  She lifts her palm, moving it in a circle as she speaks. “And now you’re being all mysterious.”

  I shrug. “No good can come from showing your full hand all at once.”

  “Hmmm. Going to make me work for it? Okay. Well, you’re going to have to be the one to suggest the next…” she twists her lips, weighing her words, “place we go.”

  “Am I?”

  She nods.

  “Alright.”

  She gives me a smile that steals the breath from me. I’m having a hard time not imagining the tickle of her hair on my skin. We both move to speak because, despite our pact to keep it light, it’s becoming awkward.

  “You owe me a dance—”

  “I should probably go.”

  She frowns. “Really?”

  “Yeah, make it a girls’ night. I don’t want you to feel obligated to c
ater to me. I’m wiped anyway. I’ll text you.”

  “Well, okay.”

  I turn to leave and catch her watching me with disappointment. I give her a wink and take my leave. I’m not in the right frame of mind to be the adorable new friend. Mere steps out of the bar into the cool night air, I jump when I feel her latch on to my back and let out an “ugh.”

  “Theeeeoooo,” she says on an exaggerated breath.

  Chuckling, I stand uncomfortably with my keys halfway out of my pocket.

  “Yes, Laney?”

  “Don’t turn around,” she whispers fiercely.

  “That would be kind of impossible.”

  “Right. Well, I appreciate you. I just wanted you to know that.”

  “Are you okay to get home?”

  “Yes. Devin’s fiancé is coming for us. I just sent the SOS.” She loops her arms around my waist and squeezes tighter as a few passersby give us odd looks. I couldn’t give a shit. I smell the mint and citrus, and instantly I’m back in that yard. My head goes fuzzy, and it has shit to do with the beer I drank. My chest restricts just a little when she sighs out an, “I like you, Theo.”

  “I like you too, Laney.”

  I place my hands on hers and wait as she talks to my back. “Your band is amazin’.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I promise to always watch you, instead of getting more beer or peeing.”

  “O-kay.”

  “I mean that. Just because I’m buzzed, it doesn’t mean I’m not sincere. And I will collect on that dance eventually.”

  I feel the weight and imprint of perfect tits on my back and remain mute while clenching my fists to keep me from embarrassing myself. “Night, Theo,” she whispers, just before letting go. I turn back in time to see the toss of her hair and swish of her skirt just before the door closes.

  Theo

  I have this theory that men who score easily with the ladies don’t put in enough effort in the sack. Case in point, Bethany. She sits at our cheap folding kitchen table swallowed by one of Troy’s T-shirts with her head in her hands, while I pour pancake batter. This is not a woman who has been sexually blissed out. If so, she wouldn’t be cloaked in morning-after regret. As a guy who’s been sexually deprived most of my adult life, I have no intention of making these kinds of mistakes.

  Laney’s words strike me then. She told me it’s awkward until you find the right chemistry.

  The second half of my theory is sex is the Olympics for the sexually underprivileged, and I’ve been in training for quite some time. I’ve got way too many pent-up fantasies in my arsenal for the girl I find the chemistry with. I might practice my P’s and Q’s out of respect for the ladies, but I’ve got a smut-filled brain, no doubt due to the deprivation.

  And there’s no way in hell I’ll ever let a forlorn sigh, like the one sounding out behind me, come out of the mouth of any woman I bed, the morning after.

  Well, except for that one time.

  CLICK, DELETE.

  “Coffee?”

  “Please,” she says softly.

  I greeted her when she hit the bottom of the stairs to try to put her at ease. She had no bounce in her step when I lured her into the kitchen, and her smile hasn’t reached her eyes through any of our exchange.

  Troy’s either underperforming or they’ve had some non-committal morning-after chat. But since he’s into avoidance, I assume it’s a bit of both.

  “You don’t have to cook for me,” Bethany says softly behind me where I stand at the stove.

  “I was cooking anyway, it’s no trouble,” I assure, looking back at her with a smile before flipping a perfectly golden cake. I hate the skittish look in her eye. It makes me just as ill at ease as she is. I didn’t start out cooking breakfast for the house conquests, it just kind of happened. They aren’t all this sullen when they come down, but Bethany is different; and I’m sure Troy noticed on some level, but it didn’t stop him. Then again, it didn’t stop her either.

  “So, I’m thinking I’m not the first girl you’ve cooked for.”

  This is the part where I resent my roommates the most. I’m not good at the bullshit, it’s not my job to placate them, but I’m typically the one stuck making the excuses. “I have two roommates on the team, so there’s always someone to cook for.”

  “I’m sure.” The snark in her voice isn’t for me.

  “It’s all up to you,” I plate up the fluffy cakes and set them on the table in front of her.

  She zeroes in on her plate and then looks up to me. “What do you mean?”

  I shrug. “I mean, you can leave here hating yourself for something you wanted to do, or you can own it and move on.”

  “Well,” she says with an ironic chuckle, “that answered my next question.”

  “Which was?”

  “Have you ever cooked for the same girl twice?”

  “You want the truth?”

  “By all means,” she says, grabbing her fork.

  “No, no repeats, and I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon.”

  She nods and grabs the juice in front of her as I lean in on a whisper when it’s halfway to her lips. “You’re still the same girl you were before you walked through that front door. It’s not you, it’s him.”

  “That’s original.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  She swallows a lump I know is forming in her throat and nods before sipping her juice. “So, you’ve been in the same position?”

  “Used to the point of feeling violated? Ironically, yeah, it was recent, and I have the battle scars to prove it.”

  “You’re nothing like him.”

  “He’s not so bad. Just…oblivious for the moment.”

  She pulls the chair out next to her and gives me a smile that reaches her eyes. “Eat with me, Theo.”

  “You ever going to settle on one?” I ask, tapping out a text to my sister as Troy comes into the kitchen after showing Bethany out.

  He stills in front of the coffeepot. “Now, no. Later, maybe.”

  “Not one of these women does it for you?”

  “Are you seriously lecturing me?” He turns to me, coffee in hand, his shoulders going tight as I look up to him from where I sit at the table.

  “Nope. Just curious.”

  “You going to the bonfire?”

  Avoidance. All play, no pay.

  I flip his tactic. “You should be pre-law.”

  He grins, taking it as a compliment. Like he does everything else.

  “So, you going?”

  “Not sure.”

  The bonfire is the annual ‘be there’ party and takes place in the outskirts of town. I’d gone my first two years with Nora. She gave her virginity away the second night, to the guy who took her home.

  “Supposed to be good. I’m going to help set up.”

  “I’ll think about it. Toss me some ice, would you?”

  He nods, opening the freezer where I have a Smirnoff waiting on him in plain sight.

  “You fucker.”

  Groaning, he twists off the cap and kneels as I shoulder my backpack and smirk down at him. “Bethany is a biology major and an only child, but she has two cats, Frick and Frack that she considers siblings. She’s a vegetarian and a Virgo. Her favorite book is The Handmaid’s Tale. She’s pretty sure she’s into kink but hasn’t trusted anyone to explore it with her yet. Oh,” I say as he finishes the bottle looking like he’s smelling burnt hair as I pull out my phone, “she gave me her number and left you her breakfast dishes.”

  I make it to the door as Lance bounds down the stairs making a rare appearance in nothing but mesh shorts. “Sup, Lance?”

  He nods. “Sup,” before passing me at the foot of the stairs.

  Troy barely acknowledges Lance, arms crossed as he regards me curiously from the kitchen.

  “She left her number for me?”

  “No. Because you didn’t ask her for it.”

  “And you did?”

  “No,�
�� I shrug. “I didn’t ask her for it either. Later.”

  Theo

  Laney: Let he who is without hangover cast the first stone.

  Theo: *throws rock* Did you feel it?

  Laney: Just your judgment.

  Theo: Still hungover from Saturday?

  Laney: I may have indulged in too much hair of the dog. I will say church was far more entertaining this week.

  Theo: That’s just wrong.

  Laney: I’m sure I got points for showing up. Where are you?

  Theo: Grand Lounge.

  Laney: Didn’t you tell me you have a house?

  Theo: Sad isn’t it?

  Troy had decided to invite some of the team to watch Monday Night Football. I wasn’t in the mood to argue. I threatened him if anyone went near my basement.

  Laney: Mind if I join you?

  Theo: I’ll save a seat for you.

  Laney: On my way.

  The Grand Lounge is the common area for TGU students. It’s considered the Rangers’ living room, consisting mostly of lounge chairs and couches you can kick back and nap on. Plugging in my earbuds, I mimic the keys of the song I’m learning on my jeans and get lost. Sometime later, I come out of my daze as a set of well-worn cowboy boots comes into view, slowly bringing me back into the present.

  “Were you sleeping?”

  “Not exactly,” I run a hand through my hair. She takes the seat next to me, her now-familiar scent filling my nose. Her lengthy hair brushes my forearm when she plants herself on the couch next to me.

  “So, are you done studying since I saw you catching flies when I came in?”

  “I was up most of the night, wondering how many times the Lord could be summoned before He made an appearance in the middle of some shameful fornication.”

  She chuckles and ruffles my hair. “Poor baby.”

  “Sad part is, it was the quiet one doing the damage this time.”

  “The quiet one?”

  “Lance. Most of the time, I can’t even tell he lives there. He rarely comes out of his room.”

  “Weirdo?”

  “Who knows. We’ve probably exchanged ten sentences since he moved in.”

  “And the other roommate?”

  “Troy. He’s the opposite.”