by Xavier Neal
She rolls her eyes at me.
“Trust me,” I calmly insist.
“I do trust you!”
“Do you?”
“Yes!”
“Then listen to me. I know cars baby. Connect first.”
Jovi lets out an exasperated growl. Slowly she grips the wheel aggression still building. I reach over and let my hand cover hers. Her eyes drag themselves up to mine. Leaving them there she lets me guide her hand down the wheel, caressing the gorgeous machine. Finally the stress she was cradling starts to wither away and I remove my hand from hers placing a soft kiss where it was just lingering.
“Listen to her...”
Her eyes turn back to the wheel and she shuts them for a moment. Jovi starts her up and finally gets us moving. “Oh my God! I did it! I did it! What do I do now?”
“Shift-” Barely makes it out of me before the gears start grinding, Jovi freaks out and we end up stopping again.
Now that she has a little more confidence she sits up prepared to try again. For the next twenty-five minutes she does her best to get passed third gear, but fails to the point I'm worried she might fuck it up beyond repair.
“Baby...” I whisper out after I declare she's done.
Jovi turns her head to face me. “Yeah?”
“Come here,” I demand scooting the seat all the way back. As soon as she's crawled into my lap, I plant one hand on her hip and use the other to push the hair out of her face. “You know I love you right?”
Sheepishly she says, “I do.”
“Good, because baby you can't drive.”
Jovi scoffs, “I can too.”
I shake my head. “Not a stick and my gut tells me you're probably hard on an automatic too.”
Pouting she folds her arms across her chest. “I am not.”
With a smile I sigh, “I'm not giving up on you yet. I'm gonna teach you to drive a stick if it kills me.”
And with the way she fucks up gears, it just might.
“Why?” Her fingers move to rub the back of my head, running her fingers through my hair. “Why is it so important to you that I learn to drive a stick?”
“Aside from it being sexy as shit?” She shakes her head with a giggle. “Because I would feel better knowing you can drive whatever, whenever, in emergency circumstances.”
“What kind of emergency? Getaway driver in a bank robbery?”
My hands stroke her sides. “Not funny.”
“A little funny.”
After she snickers I ask, “Vinnie's throwing a pool party this weekend. Interested?”
Wiggling her hips she playfully says, “I'll have to check with my other boyfriend.” I give her a swat on the ass, which makes her chuckle again. “Can I bring Hayli?”
“Of course, but never...” My hands run up her back pushing her face closer to mine. “Ever...joke about that shit Jovi. What do I say?”
A gasp comes out of her as my fingertips grip into her flesh. “You don't like to share...”
“No...” I bite her bottom lip gently, which causes her to moan. “I.” Repeating the action I add a lick. “Don't.” Roughly I shove my tongue against hers, staking my claim on her mouth.
That shit's not even funny to joke about. I'm not overprotective. Just in love. Call it the McCoy way. We're pussy whipped in love and don't ever fucking share. We'd rather die first.
Jovi
“Tadah!” Hayli pops out of the dressing room in a red halter monokini that is barely covering any part of her.
I do mean barely. I'm pretty sure the back is painted on.
Leaning against my dressing room door frame I ask, “And the impressive part is the fact you can move without the world seeing your nipples?”
“Jealous?”
“That you can't trace my nipples accurately with your eyes?”
Hayli does a sassy twirl. “I think I look sexy.”
“I think you look trashy.”
She glares, but stops and gives herself a glance. “Maybe a little.”
Don't even waste your breath trying to tell her she looks like Baywatch the porn edition.
“What'd you find?” Hayli turns around with an unimpressed look. “Not that.”
“What's wrong with this?”
“It's black.”
“Which is classic.”
“Which is boring,” Hayli sighs. “You do the boring black thing all the time. For someone who loves art as much as you do, your wardrobe lacks color. Wasn't that like an entire movement in the art world devoted to color? And popping?”
Sometimes she says things like this and it makes my head hurt.
“Pop Art?”
“That!” She points a finger to me. “Now pop!”
“I don't think-”
“Come on Jo',” she whines. “You're finally starting to have fun and live a little...let your wardrobe do the same! Be like Sammy Wandral.”
“Andy Warhol.”
“Whatever. How about a red one like this?” Hayli winks.
I sneer. “Pass.”
“What about a white one?” When I shake my head she suggests, “What about orange? You know how much Merrick loves you in orange...”
Grinning I bite my bottom lip.
Merrick loves me in anything, particularly naked. Especially naked. I love being naked around him. Is that wrong? I mean he looks at me like I belong in some exhibit on display. At least he does until his hands get involved. Oh, I love when his hands get involved.
“Do you have to make those faces?” Hayli complains. “It's soooo obvious what you're thinking about.”
“First you complained that I was a virgin now you're complaining that I think about sex. What gives?”
“I like to complain.” She shrugs. “Keeps things fresh. How about we go check out Beach World?”
“Is that because you wanna check out the cute pretzel dude or because you actually think we'll find something?”
“Multi-tasking,” Hayli says. “Change quick.”
Doing exactly what she demands, I change back into my jeans and t-shirt, meeting her right outside the dressing rooms. The two of us return the unwanted items and start towards the store. Hayli starts telling me about the date she had a couple days ago and I do my best to pay attention.
Problem is I've begun to realize all her date stories sound the same. Some hot guy is much duller than she thought he would be or some hot guy just wanted sex on the first date, which she isn't always opposed to. Sure they vary, but these are the two basic things they boil down too.
Abruptly I interrupt, “What happened to J Money? Didn't you two go home together?”
“Um...” she hums pulling her hair to the side of her face. “No. We're just kind of friends. Chill guy.” Quickly she diverts my attention. “Look there's the sexy pretzel dude.”
I have to give her that one. He looks like Channing Tatum stuck in a permanent blue and yellow striped shirt.
“Jovi Carter,” my name echoes in the air.
Baffled anyone could possibly be trying to talk to me, I look around until I spot the culprit immediately wishing I was deaf.
Tyler approaches with two clones of himself. One brunette. One redheaded.
It's like he has his own army, but not one of them would lift more than their cell phones to call their father's for help. Hey, I may not be a fighter, but I also don't call my father every time I get in a bind. Sh. I know I've never been in one before. Not the point.
“Tyler,” I sigh.
“It would sound better if you moaned my name,” his comment makes his two friends chuckle and elbow each other.
“Or gagged,” Hayli joins the conversation over my shoulder. With a bitchy smile she wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I'm Hayli, the best friend. And you're Tyler...but I'm not sure why that matters.”
Instantly I mumble, “It doesn't.”
“Of course it does. I'm the mayor's son.” He winks.
Why is he winking? How was that a reason to wink?
“I don't really give a shit about politics,” she states coldly. “Sorry.”
“I don't either,” Tyler replies to her before letting his eyes wander back to me. “But I do hate how you keep avoiding me Jovi.”
He's like head lice except there's a legal way to kill them before they infect everyone.
“Ever think it's because she doesn't like you Tarzan?” Hayli answers for me.
With a short snicker he says, “Maybe I should introduce you to my friend James so Jovi and I can have a little privacy?
James, the redhead tilts his head at her. “Oh hell no. I am not into ginger on ginger action. Pass.” He opens his mouth and she wags a finger. “I am a real redhead. Curtains would match the drapes if I had any.”
Tyler lightly laughs and says, “I like you. Surprised Jovi's old man let's you stay round.”
“He keeps me around to keep dogs like you away from her,” she comes back. “Now if you'll excuse us.”
Hayli does her best to drag us around the cardigan clones when Tyler grabs my arm. “We weren't done.”
Before I have a chance to gripe about his grip, he's shoved backwards by a face I'm surprised to see. “Don't ever fucking touch her.”
“What the fuck does it matter to you? Looking to add time to that jail sentence that's waiting for you?” Tyler bites.
Ben slides his hands in his pocket. “Just cause it's not my daddy who has to call in a favor to get me out doesn't mean I can't get out dick. We all have tricks up our sleeves.” Without waiting for Tyler to say anything else he says in a firm voice, “Stay the fuck away from Jovi or jail for speeding will be the least of your worries.”
“You dating McCoy?” He questions rudely. “Your father know? Sure he loves that.”
I'm not dating THIS McCoy....
“She's not my girl, but unlike you aristoholes, we watch out for each other. Especially when pricks like you try to get under the wrong hoods. You've been warned. Now fuck off.” Ben states and to my surprise Tyler takes the hint.
Never thought Ben of all people would come to my rescue.
“I'll talk to you later, Jovi.” He winks and strolls away with his friends on his heels.
Under my breath I deny, “No...you won't.” Relieved I look up and say, “Thanks.”
“I had it handled.” Hayli puts a hand on her hip. “I eat assholes like that for breakfast.”
“I don't doubt you do Juicy Fruit.”
She rolls her eyes at the nickname.
Big Red...I feel he wanted Big Red. The two of them would be a perfect match. What do you mean you've already thought about that?
“He didn't have any business putting his hands on cuz's girl. Be thankful it was me who saw it and not another McCoy. There's a higher chance he'd be in a body bag.”
In a whisper I verify, “You're not exaggerating are you?”
“No.” He gives me a long hard look to back up the seriousness before growing the same cocky smirk Merrick typically has.
That's genetics? Hm? What do you mean I should worry more about the body bag comment?
Ben waggles his eyebrows. “What are you two doing here? Lingerie shopping?”
“Close. Swimsuit shopping,” I answer as we start walking.
“For Vinnie's party?” He folds his arms walking with us. “You two hotties don't have swimsuits? I find that hard to believe.”
Bravely I announce, “I have one.”
“That my grandmother wouldn't wear.”
Is it just me or is her grandmother more active than most?
Chuckling he asks, “Is it frilly? Does it go down to your knees?”
As we enter the store Hayli mutters, “Might as well.”
“Drama queen,” I snap.
“Even Nadie thinks you should get something special,” her response has me cringing.
It's true. Nadie thinks my swimwear is a little aged for my 21 year old frame. We all know that it's easier to hide it than try to justify showing that much skin to my dad, but given everything else I've been up to lately, it's probably time I give into this one too...Fine! But it doesn't mean I have to look like I walked out of a rap video.
“Doesn't matter what you wear,” Ben brushes off the subject, eyes on the girl behind the counter. “Cuz is gonna follow you around like a pup on a leash just waiting to get petted.”
“Like she could resist petting him,” Hayli giggles and Ben extends a fist for bumping, which she does.
“You're like twins that were separated at birth.”
The comment makes Ben chortle before looking down at me. “Juicy Fruit and I get how shit works. People meet. You either wanna fuck 'em or you don't. You either fuck 'em or you won't. You either call it a one off or fuck 'til you find something better. Really not that complicated. It's hopeless poets like you and cuz who have it all fucked up...”
My face scrunches. “You're trying to tell me you don't believe in love?”
“Are you asking me do I believe my cuz loves you? Yes, because he'd cut off my left testicle for doubting it. Do I believe in love for me?” His eyes glance at the blond who's leaning further on the counter. “Not a chance in hell...” Before I have a chance to reply Ben says, “I will see you ladies tomorrow. I have an ignition to test.”
Ben disappears the opposite direction and Hayli sighs, “Such a shame I don't wanna fuck my reflection...” Not waiting for a response, she tugs my arm, “This way. You look so good in orange. Let's start there.”
The two of us make our way through the rack of orange swimsuits, disappointed by the shades and selections. She wants to try red again but I wanna try yellow. After much useless debate I cave and follow her. To no real surprise we are once again let down.
And she wonders why I hate shopping.
We end up exploring the gold racks. When I hold up a two piece that's more modest than everything she would ever approve of she sneers, “Seriously? What are you an 80's Bond girl?”
“I kind of like it.”
“Yeah. We want him to want to put double 0 and 7 in you not wonder if you're working for the bad guys.”
After a short scoff I mutter, “It's a little more than 7...more like 8.”
“8?” Hayli snaps loudly. “Like all together?”
“Haven't taken a ruler to it, but yeah...about there. That's good right?”
“That's...that's fucking lucky!” She shrieks. I motion my hands for her to lower her voice. Instead she rolls her eyes and storms towards the pinks mumbling, “You're getting all the fun this summer, I swear.”
The hunt continues through different hues and patterns until I feel like I've gotten lost in a Picasso painting. “Can we give up and actually get a pretzel from the pretzel guy?”
“No.”
“But I have homework.”
“You always have homework,” she gripes.
“But-”
“I can't focus with you whining!” Hayli snaps. “In fact, I-”
A hush falls on her unprompted. Unsure if I should be terrified or excited she finally stopped talking, I cautiously ask, “What?”
“Found it,” she whispers out, walking away from me and straight to the back wall where there's mixes of patterns and colors. Like a zoned in missile she walks straight to the target, grabs it and holds it out for me. “It's perfect.”
Weary I try to argue, “That's...that's not gonna cover much, Hayli.”
“It's gonna cover enough, Jovi. Look at it. It's the perfect colors. The perfect combination of playful and sexy. This is you. At least try it on.”
“Fine.” I snatch the hanger from her. “Can you pick something so I don't have to go alone?”
She looks around briefly before walking four feet over and grabbing a blue and white striped bikini with gold accents. With a suspicious smirk she declares, “You can never go wrong with the nautical. It's vintage.”
“Then why am I not trying on something like that?”
“Because we want you to stand out. And
why do I have to explain myself to you. I picked a swim suit...now go. GO.”
Stomping to the back where the sales girl helps us both into dressing rooms, I look at the bikini I'm not sure I'm brave enough to wear.