by Danah Logan
Fuck, my jaw hurts.
"Are you going to RSVP?"
Now she's pushing it, and I bark out a sarcastic laugh. "Sure, and while I'm at it, I'll ask for Marcus's number so we can get matching mani-pedis."
It's a low blow, but I need her to stop the harassment. And Marcus is the only way I know she'll drop the topic. The same way I haven't forgiven my former friends, Den is still at war with Lilly's shadow. Him manhandling her on the jet in LA two years ago was a shitty move, but something tells me there is more going on. A secret my best friend has not let me in on—yet.
"I'm coming to visit you for Thanksgiving." She switches gears, and I have to replay it in my head before I comprehend her words.
My heart skips a beat, but I can't shake the feeling of there being an ulterior motive. "Uh, why?" Den always travels with her parents and Oli over the holidays—a tradition the Kellers have had ever since I've known her.
"Oli and Elena are spending this year at her parents' house."
"And your parents?"
"I might have told them that you invited me to spend Turkey Day with you in the snow. Go sledding and all the other winter stuff you mountain people do."
I crack up. "And they bought it?" I ask incredulously.
Everyone knows that Den would rather wear workout clothes to Lilly's big day than spend a day in the cold.
"They did." I can picture her shrugging nonchalantly, but the knowledge that her parents believed it makes my chest ache for her.
I've distanced myself from everyone over the last two years and have refused to visit Westbridge, simply to not be reminded of the past and my broken friendships, but I talk to my parents several times a week. They are fully aware of everything I'm doing—training for the most part—and they know what's going on in my life. What I like and enjoy, and what I don't.
"I'm sorry, D. We'll have a good time," I say and add with a smirk, "Kai is staying this year as well."
I wait for her reaction. Kai and Den get along just fine, but his relentless attempts to get into her pants even drive me nuts.
Three, two—
"Oh, fuck no, Sheats. I'm sleeping in your room or getting a hotel. I am not waking up to him jerking off again," Den barks.
One.
A wide grin spreads across my face. "Sure thing. We'll figure out an arrangement that'll make everyone happy," I tease.
"Wes," she growls.
"Chill. I'm joking. I would never let you go through that traumatic experience again." It was hilarious, though. I wish I could've seen her face.
Last spring, Den was in town for a few days. It was the first time Kai had stuck around during a school break. They had seen each other many times in the past when she and I video chatted, but Kai meeting her in person…I had never seen my roommate dumbstruck over a girl before.
During her previous visits, I gave her my bed and slept in Kai's room. Fully aware of what went on in there, there was no way I would have made D sleep on that mattress. But with Kai around, she said she'd take the couch in the media room—our converted third bedroom. The couches were too short for either of our six-foot-plus frames, but it worked out for her.
On the second morning, I was ripped out of a deep sleep by my shrieking friend and a cursing roommate.
"WHAT THE FUCK, YOU CREEP!"
"Chill, woman, I was just—owww!"
Kai swore all he did was watch a muted show while D was sleeping, but his raging boner tenting his pajama pants said something different. Den attacked him with a game controller, which resulted in a massive shiner for Kai and a broken controller I had to replace to appease him. Asking Den to pay for it would've resulted in another shiner—on my face. No, thank you.
So, Den visiting over Thanksgiving would be the first time in over two years we'd share a bed. We used to all the time when we were in LA, but that was before…
That night starts playing in front of my mind's eye. I haven't thought about it recently, but every so often, the memory still breaks through. I don't regret it. At the same time, though, it probably shouldn't have happened. Talk about conflicting feelings.
After getting back from LA, I was in a bad headspace. The loss of two of my three close friends, combined with having no athletic future, had been too much and turned me into a hateful piece of shit. I refused to talk to anyone, including my parents. If someone attempted to address me, I lost it on them. I had never been a hothead, but I had reached my limit. After almost a week, on the day I was supposed to have left for college, Den showed up and dragged me out of the house.
"I don't give a flying fuck. You're coming with me," she announced, pulling me past my mother, who stood by, watching me get kidnapped.
Granted, I hadn't left my room in six days and had neglected personal hygiene for just as long. I'm sure Mom was glad to have me out of the house for a while.
After a pit stop at Magnolia's, where Den somehow convinced the barista to make me a turmeric and cinnamon hot cocoa in the middle of August, we went through a local drive-through and ended up at her house. I followed her to her room, where a bottle of her dad's Pappy Van Winkle was already waiting for us.
"This is your way of cheering me up?" I arched an eyebrow at her, still holding the take-out bag she handed to me in the car.
"Shut up." She faced me with her hands on her hips and chin tilted up. "Since I'm the only one who can tolerate going near your reeking body—which, by the way, is quickly losing its definition—this is what we're doing. You get one last night of wallowing, then you pull your head out of your sexy ass and fight for your dream. We'll eat crap, get drunk out of our minds, and regret every minute of it tomorrow. But that's what I'll do for my best friend." In a softer tone, she adds, "I can't stand by and watch you suffer any longer."
That was what we did. And much more. And neither of us has acknowledged the "more" since I walked out the next morning.
By the time we had finished the food, I had a major buzz going, and Den wasn't far behind. Scratch that; she was way ahead. She downed the amber liquid like I did my cocoa. One could say we drowned our sorrows that night.
Denielle "Den" Keller had the reputation of being The Bulldog, but she cared like everyone else—probably more, because she was so protective over the people she loved. She wouldn't often show her feelings, but over the last few months, she had let her guard down around me. She was hurting, even though she barely talked about what had happened over spring break. Finding your longtime boyfriend at a frat orgy, pounding another girl, would've broken anyone's trust in the opposite sex. Not once had Charlie tried to contact her after she donated all her cheating boyfriend's crap to Goodwill. I always knew he was a pussy, but I never expected him to be such a fucking coward. He owed her an apology, and one day, I would see to it that she got it.
That evening, though, we used each other to forget for a while. We were lying on Den's king-size bed. I was propped against the headboard with her nuzzled into the crook of my arm while she was watching…whatever it was. My attention span had exited several Pappy's before. I don't remember when or how, but I caught myself playing with her dark locks, curling and uncurling them around my fingers. The sudden realization made me pause, but then Den shifted, and the hand that, until then, had been tucked between us slowly slipped under the hem of my shirt.
What the hell was she doing?
Holding my breath, I waited. At first, her hand was splayed out on my lower belly, unmoving, but the sensation of her skin on mine stirred a flutter deep inside of me that had no business being there. This was Den, for fuck's sake. The one friend I had left.
Involuntarily, my abs flexed, and she jerked her hand away. When I didn't move and instead threaded my fingers in her hair again—I was so blaming that on Van Winkle—she started tracing every muscle of my abdomen with her fingertips.
My heart thumped in my throat, and my mouth ran dry. "D?"
The movement halted, and I instantly missed it. She was silent for so long that I thought this w
as it. "Yes?"
I should stop this, but do I want to?
Den was still dealing with the Charlie aftermath, not to mention what we went through in LA a few months ago and the letter that took my future away the previous week.
Instead, I remained mute, and her fingers started their pattern again, leaving a trail of heat where they connected with my skin.
The bourbon was muddling my rational thinking, and I closed my eyes, losing track of what I was going to say.
Fuck!
The fire spreading through my veins, combined with the burn in my stomach, felt so good after days of being trapped in a cold void. I angled myself slightly toward her, letting my free hand rest on her hip. Den's face was now in the crook of my neck, and I could feel her rapid breathing against my collarbone.
Goose bumps broke out on my entire body, and my groin responded in kind with the pulsing, tensing flex of urges awakening in me. When she made no indication of stopping us, I nudged my leg between hers, slowly tracing figure eights inside the crook between her pelvis and hip bone—God, her skin was so soft. Her exhales sped up, and I took that as her approval to keep going. My hand glided up her arm to her neck. With my thumb caressing her cheek, I could feel her thudding pulse under my palm.
I shouldn't be this turned on.
Den's hand moved to my back, and she ground herself against my thigh. This was the best and, at the same time, most surreal moment of the last few months—and that said a lot. When the tips of her fingers slipped underneath the waistband of my sweats, and her nails dug into my ass, all bets were off. This was a really bad idea, but holy shit, I needed this.
With my forefinger under her chin, I tilted her head up and met her gaze. Her lids were hooded, and our noses touched, her warm breath fanning over my lips.
"Last chance, Bulldog." My tone was raspy, and I was giving her an out.
She visibly shivered instead of going off on me for using her much-hated nickname. I rarely called her by it to her face, but somehow, it felt right. She was in charge of the situation.
Instead of responding, pulling away, or making any other attempt to end this—whatever this was—she closed the distance.
At the feel of her mouth on mine, my body went into autopilot. I pulled her on top of me, one hand in her hair, the other squeezing her firm ass through her yoga pants. I'd joked so many times about her well-defined butt—just to get a rise out of her—but actually having my hand on it was a whole different story. Den rubbed herself against my raging hard-on, and every muscle inside coiled at the sensory overload. It had been too long.
As soon as she parted her lips in a moan, my tongue slid inside. There was no more waiting. I let go of the long strands of her hair, and my hand slapped her other ass cheek. I didn't think I had ever done that to a girl, but the frantic kiss and the need took over my actions. Her tongue tangling with mine in perfect synchronization set every cell inside of me on fire.
Yes!
I sat us up and grasped the hem of her shirt. Den lifted her arms, and in one swift motion, I threw the fabric off to the side. The instant it dropped from my hands, they were back on the girl straddling my lap. My eyes could barely focus, thanks to my intoxication, but I was able to make out enough for my cock to get even harder. Finding her breasts covered in the sexiest black bra, I traced the lace border with my index finger, the swell of her breast rising and falling with her labored breathing.
"Your turn." She leaned in and exhaled the words against my ear. Den mimicked my actions, pulling my tee over my head and dropping it off to the side.
I drew her into me again so that our bodies were flush against each other. The heat radiating off her burned my naked chest in the best possible way. Her lips were back on mine, and I thrust up, grinding myself against her like a horny teenager in heat—all of which I was.
Trailing kisses along her jawline and down her neck, I pulled the straps of her bra down, freeing her perky tits.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous," I mumbled before swiping my tongue over one of her nipples.
"Wes." My name on her lips spurred me on even more. Never in a million years would I've thought I'd have a half-naked Denielle Keller sitting on my cock.
I cupped her other breast while I captured her hard bud between my tongue and top teeth with a gentle tug and rolled it between them.
A loud moan escaped her throat. "If you don't fuck me soon, I am going to take matters into my own hands, Sheats." Her crass words were the biggest turn-on, and I pulled her hips forward against my erection. She leaned into me, and when she bit down on my shoulder, I flipped her on her back in one fluid move.
I had no clue I was into this kind of foreplay, but holy hell, the sting from the bite pushed my need to be inside of her to a whole new level.
Hovering above her, we stared at each other for a long moment, both breathing erratically. The alcohol had somewhat left my system, but not enough for me to want to stop us—unless she put the brakes on. I was too far gone. Plus, my dick would've never forgiven me.
I sat back on my heels on the bed and curled my fingers into the waistband of her leggings. Slowly peeling the tight fabric off her toned legs, my breath hitched when I discovered that she was going commando.
Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and I smirked. "A girl after my own heart."
She quirked one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows, and I stood up on the bed—slightly wobbly between the shifting mattress and the remaining bourbon in my system—and shoved my sweats down, my dick springing free.
Den licked her lips, and I was about to blow just at the sight of her tongue darting out and the thought of her taking me into her mouth. She must've read my mind, because she shifted to her knees, wrapping her hand around me.
"Fuck," I hissed incoherently.
Her mouth was less than an inch from the tip of my cock. At the warmth and moisture from her breath against my head, I closed my eyes, ready for—
Den's phone started blaring "Good Goodbye" by Linkin Park somewhere in the room, and it was like a bucket of ice had been poured over my head. Both of them. Not only was that Lilly's ringtone, but it also sobered me up enough for sanity to start shouting in my head about what I was thinking.
I was about to fuck my best (female) friend. Being trashed or not, this could've ruined everything. The song cut off, and the call either went to voice mail or she hung up. Not that I cared. What I did care about, though, was the girl whose swollen lips were way too close to my painfully hard dick. He didn't get the memo that this would've been a disastrous idea.
This was Den. Not one of the girls I used to make out with at a party. I loved her, but not in that way. Just as the realization hit, D sat back and looked up through her dark lashes. We stared at each other for a long time, her hand still wrapped around me.
I slowly lowered myself back down to the mattress, taking hold of her wrist and interlacing our fingers as we sat mostly naked in front of each other.
In an attempt to not make this beyond awkward and lose my last friend, I let a smirk creep up my face. After a second, she mimicked my expression. There was no embarrassment, but we were on the same page.
"Friends?" I asked. Please say yes.
She cocked her head, thinking for a moment. "Best friends."
With that, she leaned off to the side, hanging half off the bed, and retrieved her shirt. I followed suit, and we dressed without another word. Fully covered, I settled back against the headboard and lifted my arm, indicating for her to come close again.
"Hey, D."
"Hmm?" She was suddenly extremely interested in the TV again.
"Would a best friend take care of my blue balls—the ones she caused?" I made my tone drip innocence.
"Ha!" she barked out a laugh, but that was all the response I got. Guess they'd be the aching reminder of what almost happened between us.
I stayed the night in her bed. Despite being sobered up, neither of us was capable of driving. But that was the last time we shared
a bed. And we never spoke of what had almost happened.
After the phone call and my trip down memory lane, the last thing I want to do is go to practice. But at the same time, it is the distraction I need from Lilly and Rhys's upcoming wedding. Or the fact that D and I would be sharing a bed in a few weeks. Whenever I do think about that night, I always come to the same conclusion: I'm fucking glad we got interrupted. I don't believe I would've lost her as my friend, but things would've changed. And I don't want things to change for us. There has been too much change already. I'd almost say, not fucking each other's brains out in a drunken haze has brought us even closer.
D and I text a few more times over the following days to talk about her visit. She actually seems excited to come during the winter.
Friday after practice, Zeke, one of the seniors on the team, hollers from his shower stall that he and the guys are going for drinks. All I want is to crash, but Kai immediately pulls his head out of his locker, calling that he's in. Fuck me. Knowing that my roommate will annoy me the entire weekend if I go home at nine o'clock on a Friday, I relent. Guess we're going out.
Kai follows me home, and we drop off my bike and his Rover and take an Uber back downtown.
"What is this place?" I glance at the sign above the door—another place with one of those ridiculous names.
"Oh, get over it. You've been here long enough." Kai laughs and slaps me on the shoulder. "Zeke met this dude at a party last weekend, and he wants to scope out the situation."
My brow furrows. "Scope out how?"
"The guy was all over some chick at the party. Hugging and kissing her." Kai shrugs.
That's…odd. Zeke doesn't make a secret out of his orientation. Why would he not ask the dude out when he had the chance?
"Well, let's figure out if Zeke stands a chance against a random girl."
One hour, then I'll find a way to bail.
I follow Kai into the place and am pleasantly surprised. This was not what I expected based on the name or the exterior. I can make this work.
"There they are," Kai shouts over his shoulder, and I follow along, making sure I don't lose him. The bar is packed with MPU students.