"You. Said. He'd. Love. Me," she repeated, tears welled in her eyes.
"Oh shit," Amanda chimed in. "I think she's talking about that potion."
I gulped. "What happened, Tara?"
"I did everything you told me to do. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G," she slurred.
"And?" I pushed.
"And he said NO," Tara released a sob.
"I'm sorry, Tara," I started but Amanda interrupted.
"Don't be sorry," Amanda barked. "You told her she can't force someone to love her. She can't take away someone's free will."
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. That so wasn't what Tara wanted to hear right now.
Tara screwed up her face in fury, stomping her feet. "But I want him!"
Amanda looked her up and down with disgust. "You need to sober up."
"Fuck you," Tara exploded, tensing her fingers into claws and leaping towards Amanda, who calmly stepped aside. Tara stumbled, turned on her heel and reached out, grasping at air. I lunged forward to try to grab her but I was too slow. She fell on her ass, hard. That was going to leave a bruise.
I expected her to jump up and go at Amanda again. But instead, the rest of her body slumped to the floor. She closed her eyes.
Amanda nudged her toe into Tara's arm. "Tara, you need to go home and sober up."
Tara slapped at Amanda's foot, muttered something incomprehensible, and then went limp.
I looked out into the lot, and saw her Mercedes parked askew, its front end on the grass. She missed the hedges by about an inch. Tara was lucky she made it here alive.
"She can't drive like this," I protested.
Amanda shrugged. "You're too nice. Bitch tossed a brick through the living room window. What you ought to be doing is calling the cops."
"She'll pay for the window. I can't ruin her life with a DUI. Or a vandalism charge."
I didn't add that I needed Tara's support with the other campus sororities for October's income. Calling the cops on her would be the quickest way to lose it.
"Sounds like she already thinks you did ruin her life," Amanda said, shaking her head. "She's pretty pissed about that potion."
"She's just drunk. She'll come around once she sobers up."
Amanda pressed her lips together and shook her head. "That sounds like magical thinking."
I sighed, about to tell her she should be more generous about people, but I was interrupted by a set of headlights pulling into the driveway.
"Great," I muttered. "Finn's home."
"He has impeccable timing, doesn't he?" Amanda said sarcastically, squinting at the lights. "You think he'll be helpful or make it worse?"
"Depends on his mood," I said, glancing at Tara, who was now snoring. "This sucks."
"That's an understatement," Amanda replied, scowling down at Tara.
Finn slammed the door to his Jeep. The sharp sound made me jump. He was grumpy at the best of times. No telling what this scenario playing out on the living room floor would do to his mood. Particularly since he was coming home from his bouncing shift at the bar. He had to be sick of college drunks by now, and here we had one of our very own, curled in the fetal position, at the foot of our staircase.
As Finn strode up the walk, I was relieved to see that he was alone. Explaining this to Finn sucked enough. I didn't want to stand face-to-face with one of his conquests, forced to make small talk.
A cool breeze swept past the open door, putting my nipples on edge. That's when I remembered that I was practically naked. Like bikini underwear and thin tank top and nothing else naked.
Amanda had a robe on. Both she and Finn had AC in their rooms. But I wanted to keep the electric bill down, so I didn't have a cooling system, opting to open a window in the summer months. My sleeping attire reflected that. There was no way I would make it upstairs and back down again before Finn hit the front door, and I didn't want to leave Amanda to face his potential outrage on her own.
He took the stairs to the front porch two-at-a-time, and then stopped short at the front door, his eyes taking it all in. "What the fuck?"
Because really, what does one say when confronted at 3 AM with a broken living room window, a passed out sorority girl blocking the egress, and two housemates—one of whom is half naked—rocking some serious bed head?
"There was a thing..." I stammered.
"You don't say?" he retorted.
I looked at Amanda fleetingly. She just scowled at both of us.
"Yeah, and Tara is really drunk," I continued.
"You don't say?" he repeated.
"Yeah, and she's not in the best shape to drive."
"You don't say?" he said once again, this time glaring at Tara's immobile body.
"Dammit, Finn! Stop acting like you're my father or something."
"Well, I think I deserve to know why there is a broken window and a drunk sorority girl on the floor," he said calmly. "I do pay rent here, you know."
"And I'm trying to explain! But you are such a..." I stopped myself and took a deep breath. "I am sorry about the mess, I am cleaning it up. Go on upstairs. Everything is under control."
Tara groaned and opened her eyes. "I think I'm gonna..."
"Okay then!" Amanda cut her off. With almost preternatural speed and strength, she gripped Amanda under the arms and dragged her onto her feet. "Let's just get you to the bathroom."
"Want me to take her?" I offered, but Amanda shook her head and she stumbled with Tara towards the bathroom. She clearly preferred facing off with barf to facing off with Finn.
I turned and looked him in the eye, resolved to be the biggest bitch on the planet. I dropped my hands to my hips, underwear be damned. "So go on then, go up to your room. We don't need any help. We've got this."
"That's not what I meant," he muttered, adding an exasperated sigh at the end before turning his attention to the broken window. "And I don't think either of you can fix that."
What could I say? He was right. I may be a crack cleaning lady, but I was no Handy Andy.
"Do you have any plywood?" He bulldozed over my silence, raising my hackles.
"No," I said flatly. "Why, you going to fix it?"
"You weren't thinking of leaving the window like that all night, were you?" he asked, heading up the stairs.
"You can't fix it in bed," I yelled up after him. Not dealing with the broken window until morning exactly was my plan.
He stopped half way up the stairs. "God, Iz, I am getting a spare tarp and some duct tape."
"You keep a tarp and duct tape in your room?" I muttered. "Just like a serial killer."
"I heard that," he called over his shoulder and continued his ascent up the stairs.
With the living room clear of bodies, it was a good time to sweep up the glass. Ignoring Tara's retching from behind the bathroom door, I slipped into the kitchen to grab a dustpan and brush. On the way back to the living room, I knocked lightly on the door. Amanda opened it about an inch, and I saw Tara, her cheek lying against the cool porcelain toilet.
"You owe me," she said sourly.
"Thanks, and sorry?" I tried, not really sure how to respond to her. I expected the sour puss from Finn but not from Amanda.
She slouched against the doorframe. "No, I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault. I'm just annoyed. And grossed out. I had to hold her hair back and everything."
I gave her a small smile and held up the broom and dustpan, managing to keep the paper shopping bag I grabbed for the refuse tucked under my arm. "You think you can keep her in here a little while longer?"
Amanda dropped her eyes to Tara, whose clammy skin still carried a greenish hue. "Oh don't think she's going anywhere just yet."
Finn was still stomping around his room, and I had to get busy sweeping lest he track glass all over the house. Amanda closed the bathroom door, leaving me to walk gingerly around on my bare feet while I swept the shards into a pile.
I didn't want to look up when Finn thudded back down the stairs, preferring to keep
my eyes on the pieces of broken window. Raising my head was almost automatic, though, and as soon as I did it, I wished I kept my eyes averted.
Finn changed into pajamas while he was upstairs. The loose bottoms slung low on his hip, leaving no question that he wasn't wearing boxers. Or briefs. Did I mention he was shirtless? His chiseled chest muscles rippled down to well-defined abs. His body flexed in all the right places while he spread out his tarp. Gawking was mandatory.
I averted my eyes, forcing myself to laser focus on cleaning up the mess of broken glass while Finn wrestled the tarp open. I hummed quietly while I worked, hoping to push the impure thoughts I was having about Finn and his low-hanging jammies out of my mind. Why in the name of Salem did Finn have to be so freaking hot?
I vaguely heard Finn saying something as I hummed the chorus of Living on Prayer. "Take my hand and we'll make it I swear, Ohhh Ohhh Living on a Prayer!"
"Izzy!" Finn shouted, ripping me out of my 1980s rock star dream. Oh damn. I wasn't humming. I was singing. Really loud.
I cleared my throat and faced him calmly. "Yes?"
"Could you hold up the tarp while I tape it?"
"Oh, yeah, sure thing," I stammered. "Just give me a sec."
I swept the glass pieces into the dustpan and dumped the pan into the paper bag, the glass pieces grating against each other as they tumbled to the bottom. I walked carefully on my tiptoes over to the window, hoping there weren't remaining shards ready to embed into my bare feet. When I safely reached the window, I took a corner of the tarp from Finn and held it over my head to the corner of the window.
Finn taped off the opposite top corner, then dropped to his knees and started on the bottom of the windowsill. I stood, arms above my head holding the tarp in place, while he carefully adhered the rough plastic to the wood.
"This is not a cosmetic fix, Finn," I groused at his meticulousness when my arms started to go numb. "Can you hurry it up?"
"I'd rather make sure the bugs don't get in," he countered. "Unless, you want a few extra creepy crawlies in the house tonight?"
Good point. I shuddered at the thought of spiders and kept my mouth shut.
With Finn kneeling just below me, I was suddenly very aware of my lack of appropriate pajamas. With my arms lifted, my tank top rose too, leaving my stomach exposed. Finn worked his body around my own as he continued to tape the tarp to the window. His hands brushed gently across my bare thighs.
I felt his breath tickle gently across my stomach as he spoke, his voice rough and husky. "Sorry."
Goosebumps erupted on my skin, which longed for his soft lips to brush up against the gentle curve of my belly.
He angled around me, wrapping his arms around my legs as he did an intricate dance with the tarp and the roll of tape. Closing my eyes, I could feel his steady breath lightly brushing against the small of my back. His hands, rough with callouses, scraped along my skin, and followed the line of his exhalation. I arched slightly as my nerve center lit up, and I imagined his strong fingers playing with the elastic band on the leg my panties. I squeezed my Kegel muscles gently and a small gasp escaped my lips.
His hard body slid against my backside as he stood to his full 6-foot frame. He reached his arms up and covered my hands with his. Time stopped as I relaxed into him, his hard cock pressing against my ass through the thin fabric of our clothes. My breath came quicker, and I longed to turn into him, to press my lips against his and tease his mouth open with my tongue.
"You can let go now, thanks," Finn said, his voice husky.
"Right," I whispered. Reluctantly, I released my hold on the tarp and opened my eyes. As soon as I got close to him, my body betrayed me.
I shuffled quickly across the room, putting distance between us, just as Amanda came out of the bathroom. Tara was upright, but not walking on her own. Amanda was dragging her, pretty much.
Finn shot a look of disgust their way. "I tossed her out of the bar at around 11 tonight. No one in their right mind should have served her."
"Maybe she was roofied," I suggested, even though I didn't believe it. Rejected by some guy, she found solace in the bottom of a bottle. She wouldn't be the first co-ed to do it. But I was tired and punchy and pretty horny. Giving Finn shit felt good. It was that or throw him on the coffee table to have wild sex. Option one was safest.
"A little help please?" Amanda called out, slumping under Tara's dead weight. With me holding Tara up on the other side, we managed to get her to the couch. She flopped over like a rag doll.
Finally released from Tara's inebriated grip, Amanda rounded on me. "Iz, she's loaded, not roofied. Why are you even defending this bitch? She tossed a brick through your window."
"As much as I hate to agree with Amanda..." Finn stopped himself, probably so he didn't have to completely agree with her.
"Whatever she did, she didn't know what she was doing," I said to Amanda, who was heading up the stairs.
Amanda stopped halfway and looked back at me. "What you should do is call the cops. Instead your letting her sleep it off on our couch instead of the Willimantic PD's drunk tank."
"You're going to bed?" I asked feebly, looking between Tara, Finn and Amanda.
"Yup, and you should do the same," she said.
"What if she gets sick again?"
"I think she's pretty much barfed out," Amanda said dryly over her shoulder.
"Wait," Finn barked at Amanda. She glared at him, but stopped. "Can someone tell me why was she here, throwing bricks at the windows?"
"Ask our resident witch," Amanda huffed, this time continuing up the stairs. "Good night."
I slowly turned to face Finn, gearing up for an argument. He hated my witchy ways on the best days.
"Don't look at me with those sad eyes," he said. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything," I said. "And I resent your assumption that this was totally my fault."
"Amanda said to ask the witch, so it means you did some sort of hocus pocus that turned into a brick through the window. So yeah, I'm thinking, it’s your fault."
"All I did was give her a love potion," I said.
His nostrils flared. "You did what?"
"I gave her a love potion. You were there, today when I made it." Finn was making me nervous, so I started babbling. "And, it was exactly the way Grams did it so there was no way I screwed it up. I don't know what happened, but I guess she tried it and it didn't work, it could be that he just isn't that into her. I can't bend a guy's will—that would be a very, very bad thing for a witch to do."
I paused to catch my breath.
"Free will. That's important," he said calmly.
My mouth dropped open. Not only did he understand what I was talking about, he also wasn't about to lay into me for serving up a love potion? Did Finn have a doppelganger that could see reason?
"Yes, it's very important," I agreed, partly because I realized my mouth was simply gaping open like a simpleton.
"And I hope you learned your lesson..." he started.
And he was off! I immediately tuned him out as he lectured me about witchcraft. And how I had to stop taking it all so seriously. And how I should really print up signs that say "for entertainment purposes only."
Yawning, I settled into the armchair beside the couch, drawing over me the old afghan blanket that was draped over the back. I closed my eyes, hoping Finn's admonitions became white noise that lulled me to sleep.
"Izzy," annoyance crept into his voice. "Aren't you listening to me?"
"Hmmm hmmmm," I wheezed at him, pretending that I was already half way to la-la land.
"Dammit, Iz, when are you going to learn?"
I cracked open one eye when I heard the creak on the third step of the staircase. Finn finally gave up. I slumped down into the uncomfortable chair and opened the other eye and looked at Tara. If there was karmic justice, she wouldn't barf again, and I'd be able to get a few hours sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
Finn
Finn ripped
off his pajama pants before he closed the door to his room. His penis was so engorged that he was shocked that neither Amanda nor Izzy noticed his epic boner. The bulky appendage pressed against its confined space so hard, he was convinced that his pants would burst.
Izzy didn't follow him up the stairs. It was probably for the best. The thought of her sleeping nearly naked next door to his room was exactly what would send him over the edge. And he needed to keep his head on straight—both heads for that matter—to get Izzy out of this fix.
Finn paced the room, trying to force his erection down. Striding to his closet, he pulled out a worn army duffle bag. He reached his hand to the bottom. He felt around for a minute, eventually pulling a heavy book. He dropped it on his dresser, holding his hand just over the top. He focused on sending his pent up sexual energy into the book.
The book sparked, and Finn let out a small roar of frustration. He was still turned on by the thought of Izzy, He considered calling one of his fuck-buddies. Maybe big-breasted Lindsey would be the perfect antidote. But he'd have to sneak her by Izzy, who was crashed out in the living room. And he hated parading his one-night-stands past her. He preferred sneaking them in and out of the house.
It wasn't like she didn't know, but it was better if she didn't see.
Abandoning the Lindsey idea, he yanked off his cock-confining pants. Dropping them in a heap on the floor, he crawled into bed.
But sleep didn't come easy. Izzy got herself into some magical trouble, and she was laying just below his room in little more than her undies. And damn she looked good in those panties. They were just plain old black cotton bikinis, too. Nothing fancy, no lacy or silk or peek-a-boo fabric. Just cotton. He found it extraordinary how she could make something so simple so damn hot.
With her arms above her head as she held up the tarp, her tank top rose just enough to show off the soft curve of her stomach. Thinking about her firm nipples and perky breasts, Finn reached to feel his still rock hard erection. His breath caught, imagining rolling one of those nipples between his fingers. He was beyond aroused now, and slowly rubbed pre-come along his shaft, thinking of her soft, full lips sliding up and down it instead of his hand.
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