by Leddy Harper
“Oh, yeah. I’m really sorry about that. Turns out I had the wrong dates. I totally got my days mixed up. It’ll be here later this week. I’m really sor—” My apology died on my tongue when my sight swung around the room and landed on the flat screen mounted on the wall. “What happened to the TV stand I had?”
“I put it in the other room. I figured now that you have furniture in there, it’d be nice to sit and watch a movie when you’re in here using this one.”
“What TV did you put in there?” I asked while peering around the corner to the hall, as if I could see through walls and answer my own question.
“The one I brought with me. You don’t have cable jacks back in those rooms so there was no use in having it in there with me. Plus, you made it very clear that this is your house and you don’t want me making any permanent changes.”
“I don’t have a cable jack in the formal room, either.”
“No, but I hooked up my DVD player so we can watch movies, and when it’s connected to Wi-Fi, we can get Netflix.”
Fiery anger bubbled up in my chest, and I had to steady my breathing before I lost my control. “Then why couldn’t you just keep it in your room and use it the same way?”
“Because then you wouldn’t be able to use it, silly.” She smacked my arm and shook her head in humor. But she didn’t fool me. I knew this was an act. And it took everything in me to not call her out on it in front of Veronica.
Ignoring the issue regarding permanent changes and the holes in my wall where the flat screen now hung, I moved on to a more important question. “How did you mount that? Did you leave the house to get the brackets from the store?”
“No. I called Connor.” Just the sound of his name made me want to crawl out of my skin. “I told him what kind it was and he picked up the recommended hardware.”
“So he was here? While I was gone?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I couldn’t hang that thing on my own. It’s like fifty inches.”
I wanted to yell. I wanted to fight. I no longer cared about hurting her, because I couldn’t remember a time I had felt more pain than I did right now. She’d invited him into my home while I was gone. I couldn’t even say his name—not even to myself. The thought of them being together, alone, right here, made me sick. It made me seethe. It made me feel like I had lost my mind.
“You told me this morning that this is my house now, too. And I could invite people over without asking you first. I didn’t think you’d mind. You don’t mind…do you, Holden?”
Veronica must’ve sensed how close to the edge of sanity I was, because she didn’t give me a chance to respond. She put her hand in mine and said, “Come on, baby. Let’s get you showered. You still smell like sunscreen.” Then, she turned her nausea-inducing, sweet voice to Janelle. “It was really nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you, and it’s about time I finally get to put a face with the name.”
It wasn’t until we made it into my room with the door closed behind us that I managed to snap out of the rage-filled trance. It was like the last sixty seconds had been on pause until I walked away from Janelle, and now, standing in my room with Veronica, my brain hit play and I realized what she had done.
“I could fucking kiss you right now, Ronnie.”
Her lips curled in disgust and she took a step back. “Please don’t. That’s repulsive.”
“Whatever. We both know you used to dig dicks.”
She waved me off over her shoulder and sashayed into my bathroom, where she started the shower for me. Her heels clicked on the tile on the way back out. But before she said anything else, she grabbed the remote off the nightstand and turned on the television, cranking the volume up loud enough to keep Janelle from overhearing.
“Just to be clear, I’ve never found any interest in a dick.”
I stumbled on my words for a moment, trying to figure out the right way to ask my question without sounding like a complete moron. “Never? Like…not even when you were younger before you knew you liked vagina?”
She snickered while moving through my room, obviously comfortable in my space with as many times as she’d been here. “Holden…how do I put this? Let’s see…I’ve always known I liked vagina. Well, wait. I always knew I liked girls. The sexual side of that came later with hormones.”
“But you’re so…feminine.” I stepped back to appreciate her womanly figure dressed in tight jeans, her tank top hugging her curves, and her ample breasts practically spilling out of the deep V neckline. Her long, dark hair made her olive tone seem lighter, almost creamier. Without her admitting she liked women, or seeing her with her other half, no one would’ve ever been able to guess her sexuality.
“Thank you.” She kicked off her heels and began to unbutton her jeans. “But that has no bearing on what gender I prefer in bed. Whether I wear a good pair of Jimmy Choo heels or Nike sneakers doesn’t determine which genitalia I want in my face.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and watched her step out of her jeans and then pull off her tank top. She stood before me in a bra and lace thong, and oddly enough, neither of us seemed to care. “So what’s the plan. You just gonna hang out naked in my room to make her jealous?”
She grinned and pulled one of my T-shirts over her head. “I need a place to crash tonight. I originally hoped I could borrow your couch, but this seems like a way better idea. Trish needs time to cool off and realize I didn’t bankrupt us, and you need to teach little miss thing in there a lesson. So…right now, go take a shower, and make sure to slap the wall a few times for good measure.”
I raised a brow and contemplated her suggestion. “I like it. Make her think we’re getting dirty in the shower.”
She shoved me and rolled her eyes. “Hurry up. When you’re done, I’m going to need you to bring me food.” And with that, she reclined on my bed and settled into the pillows to watch whatever show was on the screen.
About an hour later, I left my room to get us something to eat. To my surprise, I found Janelle in the kitchen with a can of soda in her hand, as if she’d just pulled it from the fridge. I wasn’t sure where I expected her to be, or why I found it so uncomfortable to be in the same room with her, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was upset.
“Everything okay?” I asked while preparing to make a couple sandwiches.
“I thought we agreed to not bring anyone here.”
I couldn’t ignore the raw pain in her voice. It ran through me before settling in the center of my chest. When I turned to face her, I wished I hadn’t, because I was sure I’d never forget the betrayal in her eyes. “We did, but that was before you brought your boytoy here.”
“My what?” Her eyes narrowed and her top lip curled as if she just tasted something sour. “First of all, he’s not anything to me. Just because some show deemed us made for each other doesn’t mean I have any interest in dating him. The only reason I agreed to marry him was for the money. Nothing else.”
I faltered, unsure of how to proceed. Part of me didn’t want to believe her, because that would mean I’d perceivably broken our trust first, and the reason she appeared so broken was because of me. And those were two things I couldn’t accept.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered before turning my back on her.
Nothing else was said. The soft sounds of her feet padding down the hall were all I heard before the click of her bedroom door. Somberly, I finished making our sandwiches and went back to Veronica, where I confessed to feeling like a complete prick. Luckily, she knew most of the situation, and I filled her in on the rest, so she was able to give me solid advice. She did, however, pout about not being able to jump on the bed and practice her best fake orgasm noises. But I made it up to her by bringing her a glass of wine and talking to Trish on her behalf, getting her to agree to let Veronica back home in the morning.
6
Janelle
Warm light drifted through the slats in my blinds and woke me up. Like the last few mornings, it took me
a second to figure out where I was, confused by the unfamiliar room. Though, unlike the previous mornings, I didn’t find myself consumed by determination. Instead, a deep sense of sadness filled me. A move originally meant to show Holden that I wasn’t a pushover and couldn’t be easily controlled ended up blowing up in my face. By telling him Connor had been there, I’d hoped it would’ve pushed his buttons, but not once did I think he’d get back at me by having a woman in his bed while I slept under the same roof.
I groaned and rolled off my mattress, realizing how pathetic I sounded—even to myself. I shouldn’t care who he had in his room or what they did behind closed doors. It had nothing to do with me. But that didn’t stop the pang of jealousy from forming within my chest. Veronica was gorgeous. Everything any sane woman wishes to be. I was sure I could’ve looked at her under a microscope and still not found a single flaw. Even her voice was the perfect pitch of sexy. Which made it so much worse. The least I could’ve hoped for was that she sounded nasally or whiny; that way, her sex noises would’ve offset everything else. But I was sure—even without hearing them—that her moans were symphonic.
While standing in front of the mirror hanging over my dresser, an idea smacked into me and left me winded, like the thought literally knocked the air out of my lungs. I remembered he had checked me out yesterday morning in the kitchen. I had no idea if Miss Perfection was still here or not, but I didn’t really care. Legally speaking, she was in bed with my husband. So really, she had no right to say anything…and if she had a problem with it, maybe it would push Holden to give in and sign the papers.
Not wasting a second, I shimmied out of my cotton shorts and exchanged my everyday panties for the cheeky pair no guy could resist. No matter what brand, this style made every shape of ass look good. And instead of the loose T-shirt, I settled on a cami—the kind without the built-in shelf-bra. I made sure my hair was brushed, but I still piled it on top of my head, giving it that “I don’t care” look. After one final glance in the mirror, I approved and set out to win this war.
I stepped out of my room and took the hallway like the New York Fashion Show runway. Ignoring the chill on the insides of my thighs normally covered by clothes, I put one foot in front of the other. And I didn’t stop until I made it into the living room, where Holden sat on the loveseat, his cell phone in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.
Taking a seat on the couch next to him, I propped one foot on the coffee table and arched my back into the oversized pillows, reclining as though I were under the hot sun on a beach in a bathing suit. He glanced over at me and then turned back to whatever he had on his phone, but in a split second, as if my presence just registered to him, his body turned rigid and he slowly brought his attention back to me. It started with my exposed leg, where I watched him trace it with his eyes. His focus then settled briefly at the apex of my thighs before traveling north, taking a break to admire the obvious peaks on my chest due to the cool temperature he kept his thermostat set to. But rather than meet my gaze, he cleared his throat and took a sip of coffee, his attention back on his phone.
Taking matters into my own hands, I asked, “Veronica didn’t stay for breakfast?”
“Nah,” he answered without glancing up again. “She left about an hour ago.”
Well, that wasn’t the answer I’d hoped for. I wanted to hear him tell me how he’d kicked her out last night after our meeting in the kitchen. Then again, I wasn’t sure why I wanted to hear him say that. Nor did I understand the sense of jealousy I couldn’t shake. I told myself I wasn’t green with envy over them being together.
I didn’t want to be her because she had Holden.
No. I wanted to be her because she was perfect.
Holden got up from the couch and took his mug to the kitchen, and I inwardly cursed myself. He had Veronica in his bed last night. I was an idiot to think I could prance out here in panties and a tank top and make him turn his head. Yeah, right. His thirst was more than quenched last night. I had more of a chance to convince a vegetarian to try filet mignon than I did getting Holden’s attention after a night with Miss Sex in Heels.
Even so, I watched him move around the kitchen, while taking note of his T-shirt, gym shorts, and sneakers. They looked so good on him. The way the silky material hung on his hips and hit him just below the knees made me pant with desperation. I’d seen my share of hot guys on campus, but nothing compared to Holden first thing in the morning. That’s a lie. Nothing compared to him right after a shower.
Holy I’ve-seen-you-naked, Batman.
Every time I saw him with his hair wet, I couldn’t help but call upon the single memory I had of when we were in the shower together, before I ruined everything. The one glimpse I’d had of his man meat. I was sure my imagination had embellished it over the years, because there was no way he truly was that big. But in my mind, he was. And it was glorious. And as I stared at him in basketball shorts, it was all I could think of.
“Need a napkin?” His voice brought me back to reality, and his smirk let me know he’d caught me checking him out. Thank God he didn’t know exactly what I was thinking. “You got some drool there.” He pointed to his chin, which brought my attention to the dark spatter of hair along his jaw.
“Very funny.” I offered a fake laugh and pulled myself from the couch. I made a beeline for the fridge where my morning caffeine resided. “Where are you headed off to this morning? And are you planning on going to my parents’ this afternoon for dinner?”
“I’m going for my jog. Wanna join me?”
I scowled in his direction. “No. Unless someone is chasing me, you won’t see me run.”
“Whatever. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Bouncing boobs, sore thighs, cleavage sweat, swamp ass…I’m well aware of what I’m missing. Back to dinner. Are you going to my parents’?”
“I go every week. I’m not suddenly going to stop now that you’re here. I didn’t make this arrangement for you to take my place at the family table.” For whatever reason, his answer got to me, and I didn’t like it. He must’ve recognized it on my face, because his shoulders relaxed, and he tried again. “Yes, Janelle. I’ll be there. Did you want to ride together?”
My heartbeats tripped over each other at his offer. “Sure.” I added a shrug for good measure, hoping he hadn’t noticed the palpitations he caused. “Save on gas and whatnot. Good for the environment. Eco-friendly and everything. It’s a good idea. Ozone layer. Carbon dioxide.” I poured cold, carbonated soda down my throat to keep me from spouting out more random words as if they somehow made sense and gave cause for us riding in the same vehicle together.
Still, it hadn’t stopped him from laughing at me. But at least he tried to be polite and keep it under his breath. Although it didn’t matter to the burn in my cheeks over the absolute humiliation that covered me like a blanket. I had no idea what had happened to me over the last twenty-four hours, but I needed it to stop. Apparently, finding out Holden had sex with a goddess stole every last brain cell I had in my head and left me acting like a bumbling idiot.
“You sure you don’t want to jog with me? The fresh air might do you some good.”
I quirked a brow at him and finished swallowing my drink. “I’m positive.”
“Suit yourself,” he called out over his shoulder.
I didn’t wait until I heard the door close before running back to my room to put clothes on. What seemed like a fantastic idea had turned out to be the worst thing I’d ever come up with. I was confident in my body, knew I didn’t have anything to be ashamed of, but I was no Veronica. And had I shared a bed with her last night, I wouldn’t have wanted to see me, either. I wanted to hang my head in shame and disappear, but I couldn’t. I had to march on. Keep my head up. Eyes on the prize.
After collapsing on the couch, I learned the batteries in the remote had died. So I helped myself to every nook and cranny in his house looking for extras. I gave up when in what seemed to be a very orga
nized junk drawer in the kitchen, I found an old photo of Holden and Matt. They couldn’t have been older than twelve since that was the cutoff for trick or treating. Both of them were dressed head to toe in a costume—Matt was Superman, and Holden was Batman.
I had basically no memory of my life before Holden. He’d come into it at such an early age for me that it was easy to believe he’d been there since day one. Not to mention, he’d spent nearly every day at our house from the moment he’d met Matthew until…well, it seemed he still spent time at my parents’ house. So there weren’t many aspects of my life he wasn’t there for. When I closed my eyes and thought about Holden, a lot came to mind. However, in everything I could conjure up about him and our past together, the bad times were never the ones that came to me easily. Those were the moments I had to consciously bring to the surface. They weren’t the defining moments of him or how I felt about him—then or now.
The parts of him that had lingered over the years, even when I didn’t want them to, was the way he’d hang his arm over my shoulders and tuck me protectively into his side. Or how calming it was to feel the pad of his thumb wipe away an errant tear. Every important male figure in my life had a role: Dad was the gatekeeper, the lawmaker, and overall police. Matthew was my bodyguard. But Holden…he was my Batman.
“In a fight between Batman and Superman, Superman would win every time.” This seemed to be a constant debate between Matthew and Holden. And no matter how many times it was discussed, neither person changed their views. My brother defended the flying superhero as if he had a personal interest in him, and Holden argued his case for the dark knight with equal enthusiasm.
“Take away his superpowers and he wouldn’t,” Holden argued with a smug grin on his boyish face. He’d just started to shave and thought he looked like a man; we all had a good laugh at that one.
“You can’t take away his powers, that defeats the whole ‘superhero’ aspect.”
“Then it’s not a fair fight. Superman is only a hero because he’s from another planet and has powers. He doesn’t bravely fight against crime. He just does what his body allows him to do, what his powers allow him to do. Whereas Batman protects people without a single superhuman strength.” I’d heard these points so many times before I could’ve recited them, but I loved to hear Holden make them. The determination behind his arguments could’ve made anyone a believer in his opinion. “He could get hurt, shot, he could die, but that doesn’t stop him. He wasn’t infected with some mutated venom or born on another planet. He wasn’t created in a lab or pumped with chemicals. He’s a normal person. And there’s not a single superhero worth believing in more than Batman.”