ME: The Complete Series

by Logan Chance

  “Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

  I lift my head. “Yeah,” I murmur, gazing at her.

  The air around us zaps and sizzles with an odd unfamiliarity. I find myself wanting to spend every moment with her.

  Sure, we were inseparable as kids, but this is more.

  Every morning I wake to thoughts of her, and when I close my eyes at night she’s all I see.

  I turn away from her and return to the sheet, taking a seat under the pale moonlight. The secluded beach is quiet this late at night, and I take the opportunity to ogle her as she resumes her stance over the telescope.

  “Looking for the Cryin’ Lizard?”

  “Maybe,” she says. And then, then, if I wasn’t tormented enough, the breeze lifts her skirt, teasing me with a view of her rounded ass wearing light blue panties to match her sundress.

  Fuck. My dick stirs to life. I run my fingers through the sand, lying on my side, hoping for another glimpse.

  She turns to me, ending any chance of that happening. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” I sit up a little, waiting for her next words.

  “When you were in the military, did you have to follow orders no matter what?”

  I crack a small smile. “Yeah.”

  “I would love to have that job.” She leaves the telescope and sits down next to me, crossing her legs at the ankles.

  “What? Bossing people around?”

  Her eyes meet mine. “No, just bossing you around.”

  I laugh. “Is that so? Go ahead. What would you have me do?”

  “Oh really? You’re going to let me be your commanding officer?” She gets excited, perching up onto her knees.

  “Sure, why not?” I stand, because if I don’t, I’m going to haul her into my lap and ravage her mouth with my tongue. Grind her pussy on me until she begs me to fuck her.

  She purses her lips, bringing her finger to them, thinking. “Let’s see, Private Wagner. Why not take off your shoes, and run out and get your toes wet.”

  I cock a brow. “Really?” I was hoping for something more sexual.

  “Yes.” She smiles, big. Like a kid in a candy shop, excited to get their reward.

  I do as she says, running to the water’s edge and getting my feet wet in the cold ocean. “Oh, fuck, that’s cold.”

  She laughs from the safety back on shore.

  I dip my hands in the water, cupping a small amount in my palms and race back to where she’s seated and trickle it down the back of her neck.

  “Shit, Ryan.” She’s on her feet in no time, and I tickle her back to the ground. Hovering over her, her flat on her back, my smile drops. I want her so fucking bad.

  “You’re supposed to be doing as I say,” she whispers.

  Our eyes slam into each other, and my heart beats a thunderous rhythm. “Give me another order.” My voice is low, soft, and I pray she doesn’t ask me to get off her.

  “Kiss me, Ryan.”

  And, I fucking do. To hell with friendship.

  Our lips meet, and my hands dive into her wild hair as she claws at my back. I kiss her hard and deep, claiming every inch of her perfect mouth.

  She gasps as I nibble at her bottom lip, and moans as my hand traces down her body, lifting her leg over my back.

  I press my thickening dick against her center letting her grind against me.

  The crashing waves are the soundtrack to our kiss, playing on repeat as I go further pulling the top of her dress down a bit to kiss the swells of her breasts and finally run my tongue through the valley between them. She doesn’t want me to stop, urging me on by gripping her fingers into my hair. But, what if I don’t?

  Lizzy’s my best friend. I shouldn’t be here with her. I shouldn’t be thinking about all the filthy things I want to do to her right now. Wondering what she looks like, what she sounds like, when she comes.

  I break the kiss, sitting up in the process. “I’m sorry, Lizzy.”

  My hands tug at my short hair as she lies there, not saying anything. I’m selfish.

  She had a life before I came crashing back into it. Instead of restoring our friendship, I might destroy it forever.

  She could never love someone like me. An injured soldier.

  She deserves better.

  Chapter 8

  Lizard

  He had beautiful eyes. The kind you could get lost in; and I guess I did.

  Wow. So that’s what it’s like to really kiss Ryan Wagner. The kiss he just laid on me was better than any kiss fantasy I’ve ever had. Even the fantasy involving Chris Hemsworth, which is very hard to outdo. But, Ryan surpassed anything I could have ever imagined.

  I was being so good, gazing at Orion’s Belt and the Seven Sisters star constellations, minding my own business.

  Now everything is all uncomfortable, awkward, and weird.

  I wish I could say something, but I think he kissed my lips into numbness. I may never get the use of my lips back ever again.

  Ah, to walk the world, affected forever from his kiss. Which if I’m being honest, I’m sure his kiss will affect me in other ways for the rest of my life.

  It was everything a kiss should be. Passionate. Carnal. I know. I know. I’m nonstop talking about this kiss, but well, you would too if you’d just been kissed like I had.

  Don’t be jealous, though, because right now, as I peer over to Ryan, he appears like I was his worst mistake. And it’s a horrible feeling. My silly crush I’ve always harbored, is always going to be just that. A silly crush.

  And, I can’t fucking think of a thing to say, so I deflect, or I’m going to cry. “Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka,” I recite, barely above a whisper.

  Ryan turns to face me, a small smile playing at his lips. “I’m sorry? Are you speaking English?”

  Even though it hurts, I smile back. “Sorry, it was the first thing that popped in my head.”

  “Oh, right. It happens,” he shrugs, “most girls I kiss usually start speaking in tongues afterwards.

  My heart sinks at all the other girls he’s kissed. Did mine rate up there with the others? I hide my insecurity under a veil of laughter and slap his shoulder. “It isn’t gibberish. It’s the name of the three stars in Orion’s Belt.” I point to the constellation with my finger and Ryan’s green eyes follow, gazing up into the night sky.

  “Ah, sure.”

  “You can Google if you don’t believe me,” I defend myself.

  “No, I would never doubt you. You’re the star expert.” He runs a hand on the backside of his neck. All cute and sweet like, and my heart squeezes. I don’t want him to feel strange around me now and ease out of my life. I’d rather hurt everyday being around him than let him go again.

  “Ok, listen, about the kiss, Ryan. It was sweet.” Oh God, I sound ridiculous. “I mean, it was nice.”

  He appears dejected. “Ouch, nice, huh?”

  Our eyes meet and my cheeks heat. “I mean it was good.” I should stop talking.

  And then, like a rocket, Ryan’s lips attack mine. And it is anything but nice, sweet, or good. No, the kiss he lays on me is rough, hard, digging into me with a fierceness neither of us can contain.

  His fingers shove into my skin. My hands tug him closer.

  Magic happens in the evening. Like right now, invisible glitter and stardust cascades from the sky, covering us with its beauty.

  It’s the starting of the fall.

  The fall into each other.

  My only fear is that Ryan doesn’t feel the same way.

  I’m being silly. Of course, he doesn’t.

  The evening makes you do crazy things.

  Things a sane person wouldn’t do.

  Because, magic lives here, in the evening…and tomorrow when the dust settles, and the sun rises…it’ll all be over.

  The kiss ends.

  And I’m disoriented.

  His eyes are hazy with lust. “Lizzy, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to be a less than stellar kisser.”

&n
bsp; “Stellar. Nice word choice. It also relates to the stars, which isn’t how you meant it. But, ” I ramble. “Yeah, no, you’re cool.” I hop to my feet, scrambling to gather everything together to head home. Home. Where it’s safe from feelings.

  Feelings I’ve held in for years.

  Feelings which are all slowly seeping from every pore of my body.

  Ryan follows suite and gathers the last of our belongings, and we both head in silence to his truck. After loading the telescope in the back, we hop into the cab and he drives toward my house.

  Silence.

  More silence.

  Now it’s an awkward silence.

  I grow frustrated and turn in my seat to face him. “Ryan, I think we should talk about what happened.”

  I mean, shouldn’t we?

  He pulls off the side of Atlantic Ave, slamming his foot on the brake. At this dark hour, the street is seemingly deserted. The occasional car passes, beaming their lights through the window of Ryan’s truck. In this neighborhood with private school children, and white picket fences I’m not worried about anything bad happening. Unless you count what I’m about to do. I’m going to lay it on the line.

  “Ok, talk,” he orders, with one hand gripping the black steering wheel, tightly.

  I gaze at his fingers, remembering how just a while ago they were wrapped through my long hair, and suck in a deep breath. “Well, I think it was a mistake. I mean, we’re friends, right?” Oh God, why is this so hard? Part of me hopes he’ll confess to wanting me as much as I want him. Maybe, just maybe, he feels the same. I’ve left the door cracked for him, giving him the opportunity to swing it wide open.

  He nods. “Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I…”

  I cut in, “No, it’s ok. I shouldn’t have asked.” I don’t want to hear his regret.

  This conversation couldn’t be more awkward. I wish he’d just start the car and take me home so I can forget about this night.

  As if he can read my thoughts, he fires up the ignition and speeds down the road.

  When he pulls into my driveway, he offers very little chit chat, and I rush to get my things as he helps me bring my telescope inside.

  We say goodbye, and he pulls away, taking a little piece of my heart with him.

  After the discomfort of the other night, I haven’t called or seen Ryan. In all honesty, I don’t really know what to say to him.

  But, that will soon change since he has an appointment today, and again I’ll get to feel his muscles as I give him a massage.

  My fingers tremble with nerves. This is more excruciating than losing my virginity at sixteen with Grant Middleton in his father’s garage after school. He had eaten a bag of Cheetos, so it wasn’t a pleasant experience. I remember being terrified of getting caught and repulsed at his Cheeto breath and orange fingertips.

  Now, even though Ryan and I both agreed it was a mistake kissing, I’m still anxious. If I’m being honest, I didn’t think it was a mistake at all. Why would he kiss me like that? He didn’t have to go all in. Why would he? Maybe it’s because Ryan has been in the service a while. He probably hasn’t had sex in the four years he was away, so I’m sure he’s extra horny. Horny enough to kiss his best friend as if his life depended on it. Ok, I know it wasn’t prison, but I’m sure he didn’t have women flirting with him day in and day out.

  He steps through the front door of the office, and all eyes are on him. Quiet and stillness settles over the waiting room as everyone gapes at him. Maybe not everyone, but I know I sure am. He has a presence about him, and it’s as if he owns the room.

  He steps up to the reception desk, signs the white paper attached to the clipboard, and takes a seat against the wall.

  From my position in the back office, he can’t see me, and I prefer it this way. I need a minute to compose myself before I call him back to my tiny room.

  Smoothing the top of my scrubs down, I walk to the door and call out his name. His smile lights me up inside, and all the awkwardness from the other night melts away.

  “Hi,” he says when he’s close enough for me to hear.

  I smile. “Hey.”

  We step into my room, and he removes his shirt right on cue and hops on the table.

  I dim the lights, turning on the soft music, and add a dab of lotion to my hands. Focusing on a piece of artwork decorating the far wall, I zero in on the constellations gazing back at me. Ryan’s shoulders are tense as I knead into them. Closing my eyes, I focus on the feel of his soft skin under my fingertips. His muscles relax under my pressure. For one fleeting moment, I wish I could leave this room, this little oasis of soft music and gentle, pastel colored walls, and take him back to my house and do wicked things with him.

  But, I control my hormones, and focus on the task at hand…that is, until he moans. The simplest of sounds raises my internal temperature and has my heart beating wildly inside my chest.

  I pause, and he sits up.

  “Lizzy, I’m sorry. Your hands…they’re turning me the fuck on.”

  I stare down at my hands and see his cock jutting forward in his shorts. “I’m sorry. Maybe we should stop for today and do a few exercises instead?”

  He grabs my hand from his seated position. “Not yet.”

  I’m speechless as I get lost in his stare. This is wrong, he’s my friend. We shouldn’t cross this line again, even if I want to.

  The mood is set—dim lights, flowy music. Almost reminds me of a high school dance. Except the only dancing here is around the question whether or not this means something.

  I’m at work, and this isn’t the place to put my feelings to the test. Especially with Ryan.

  As well as my brain knows this, my body is slow on the take.

  I ignite under his gaze. His intensity overwhelms me, makes my panties wet, and I take a deep breath.

  Ryan was my sounding board. My saving grace growing up. He was there for me in my darkest hour when things went south with my parents. And, even though I want him to kiss me again, I don’t want to lose our friendship when things sour. Which, they always do. Just look at my parents. Once, so in love, and then one day it all came crashing down and ended in divorce.

  So, with nerves of steel and confidence of stone I’m doing the right thing, I turn away from him. I don’t want him to regret me again. “Let’s do some ROM exercises.”

  He hops down from the table, making his way to the wood door. “Sure,” he whispers.

  The next hour is not as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. Ryan and I fall back into our best friend groove, and I help him work out his shoulder.

  At the end of the session, after many laughs and jokes, he says he’ll call me later to hang out. And, I wish for one tiny second it could be more than it is.

  Chapter 9

  Cryin

  Make love, not war

  Fuck, I need to keep my head in the game. Being with Lizzy is not an option. She deserves better, not a fucked-up war vet like me.

  No, Lizzy deserves the best things life has to offer.

  After leaving the doctor’s office, I drive into town, stopping at a small bar within the city limits of Miami.

  When I step through the wooden doors, I’m transported back in time. Annoying neon lights flash against an oval, frosted-glass bar. The music is even straight out of the 1980’s. It’s all a bit ridiculous, but as I examine the few people who are out on a weekday, they appear to be enjoying themselves.

  I park myself on a vinyl red stool and order an Old Fashioned. The muscle-clad bartender muddles the orange, cherries, and sugar, and my mind wanders back to her. She would love it here. Retro and nostalgic. She’d be dancing like all the girls up on stage right now. But she’d look way better than the primadonnas up there now. Lizzy with her wild hair bumping and grinding to Boy George, what a sight that would be.

  Downing my drink, I wonder what the fuck I’m doing with my life. The open enrollment for school has ended with me not even signing up for a sem
ester. Working for my father is cool, but I can’t do it for much longer.

  It doesn’t really matter anyway; life goes on, whether you plan for it or not.

  “Cover your left eye and read the fourth line down,” Dr. James says, as I stand in his stark white office again. It feels like a frozen tundra with how cold it is and how icy I feel inside.

  I cover my eye, repeating what I see, “L, P, E, B.”

  He marks furiously in my patient chart. “Third line.”

  “T, O, Z.”

  “Very good.” He stands in front of me, pressing along my temples. “Any headaches?”

  “Nope, none.” I smile, hoping he believes me. The last two headaches were nothing…just the heat, I’m sure.

  “How’s therapy going for that shoulder?” he asks.

  “Good. It rarely hurts at all.” Now that is the truth, thanks to Lizzy’s magic fingers.

  I leave his office with another follow up appointment scheduled. The Florida sun shines bright overhead, casting a shadow that follows me back to my father’s surf shop, back into work. This should be any surfer’s dream job, but for me…I’m not so sure. I always felt like I was destined for so much more. It’s one of the reasons I joined the military—to protect and serve.

  Old habits die hard, and with military precision, I count off the klicks to my father’s shop…three klicks, three thousand meters.

  Fresh air hits my face. Florida is full of sea and salt in the air; a mist of humidity on your skin. I would have given my left nut for a droplet of water in the air in Afghanistan. It was dry, dusty, sandy, and downright hot as hell.

  After going through the motions at work, I dash through the now pouring rain and enter my bungalow. The pungent smell of lemons makes my eyebrows scrunch together. Knowing damn well my mother has been over to clean, I head off to the kitchen to see her efforts.

  Just as I thought, the bright stainless steel appliances and granite countertops glisten beneath the overhead light. I’m not a slob by any means. As a matter of fact, the 1500 square feet of my home are usually pristine thanks to the military. The sand colored tile throughout is clean enough to eat off of. She still likes to feel “needed,” and this is her way of doing it, I guess.