by Lacey Black
Why does it feel like I’m completely full of shit?
Chapter Three
Abby
First time I heard that song, Jeff Healey stole my heart. Then I heard ten-year-old Levi Morgan belt out the words, and I was a goner. My best friend can sing, even though he prefers to play guitar and provide backup vocals, but he always sings that song for me.
When he finishes, I hold my breath and wait until…there. He does it. He points to me from the stage, a huge smile spread across his handsome face. The ladies go wild as if he’s pointing to them, but I don’t pay them any attention. My eyes are locked on his, my smile as wide as the one he throws at me from the stage.
“You two are so stinkin’ cute. Why don’t you just screw and get it over with?” AJ slurs beside me.
“Screw! I wanna screw! Not Levi because that’d be like doing the sex with my brother, but I wouldn’t mind a little bit of the sex,” Lexi chimes in, her words just as slurry as AJ’s.
“Stop calling it the sex, Grandma! You sound just like her!” Jaime exclaims. She’s right. Grandma always calls it the sex, and apparently Lexi has picked up on the habit.
“She’s right,” I tell my twin. “And I’m not having the, you know, sex or anything with Levi. We’re friends.”
“Friends who should screw,” AJ retorts with a snort, finishing off her drink. “I’m done. I’m drunk. I’m ready to go,” she says, swaying a little too much towards Ryan. Fortunately, he doesn’t mind that she’s practically using him as a place to rest.
“Me too. I’m just drunk enough for road-head,” Jaime yells over the music. Ryan’s face lights up like he just signed with the Yankees.
“I like road-head,” Ryan adds to the conversation, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.
“Please wait until you’ve safely dropped us all off,” Meghan begs.
“Or until you’re safely at home,” I add.
“You don’t understand the concept of road-head, Abs,” Jaime says with a laugh.
This may be true, but I’d rather them be on the safe side. I wouldn’t want to risk my life and that of those around me to give a little BJ on the way home. Suddenly, completely unwarranted, but Levi’s face pops up in my semi-drunken mind. For some reason, I doubt any BJ I’d give him would be little. In fact, I might have caught a glimpse of a very large, very hard penis when he was getting out of the shower in my dorm room, at college one weekend. I’m pretty sure he took care of the problem with my roommate.
Picturing the scene all over again makes me giggle. Back then, I remembered being completely shocked (and maybe a little excited). Like ninety percent shocked and ten percent excited. Fine, seventy/thirty. Maybe fifty/fifty. I had only seen one peen in person and it wasn’t anywhere close to the size of Levi’s.
“What are you laughing about?” Payton asks, glancing through me and looking straight into my guilty conscience.
“Nothing.” Yeah, might as well just tattoo the phrase thinking about penis across my forehead.
“I don’t believe you, but I’m too drunk to try to get it out of you right now. Let’s head out,” she says, leading our group towards the parking lot. “Get it? Head out,” she adds with a laugh. Dean rode here with Ryan so he can take Payton’s car, which only leaves AJ’s behind in the lot. We’ll get her back here tomorrow to pick it up.
As I climb into the back of Ryan’s truck, I glance back over to the stage where Levi is performing. He probably doesn’t realize I’ve left yet, but I’m sure he won’t care. He’ll have company later tonight and doesn’t need to worry about trying to get me home. Even if my home is directly across the hall from his own. At least I’m not right next door and have to listen to loud stuff coming through the walls.
Thank goodness for small favors.
* * *
It’s not even eight and I’m ready to head out. Most Sundays are spent completely opposite of the rest of my days: leaving the house. As an editor for a large publishing company, I spend most of my days behind my computer screen. But on Sundays, I do everything I can to get out and enjoy a little fresh air.
Today, I’m meeting Lexi at her salon for a color and cut. To me, hair is hair, and it doesn’t matter to me what mine looks like, but Lexi is a perfectionist beautician and would rather die from paper cuts than let me walk around without highlights and a regular trim.
Whatever.
My hair appointments are almost always on Sundays, when the shop is closed and we can talk about anything and everything. It’s one of our bonding times as twins, and I look forward to it like clockwork every eight weeks. The best part is I don’t have to do my hair or makeup to go out. She’ll fix my hair, and often plays around with new eye colors or smudge-proof lipsticks.
I gather up my purse and tablet, hoping to get a little reading in while I’m under the dryer. And not work-related reading, I’m talking about something I want to read for enjoyment. Something that’s already edited and corrected. Today’s selection is somewhat of a regency novel. I normally stick to straight rom-com romance, but since I’m working on stepping outside of my box, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to give other genres a try too. And this is still romance; it’s just set in another time period.
Grabbing my keys from my purse, I step through my door and into the hallway. I pull it closed behind me, turning the lock to confirm it’s secure, when I hear the door behind me open. Levi has always been an early bird, using the sun rising as his excuse to go for a run, so I prepare to greet my friend.
Only this isn’t Levi.
She’s wearing a dark purple dress with tall black sandals. Her jet black hair is pulled back in one of those messy buns that some women have the natural born ability to create, and her pretty face is makeup free. She doesn’t notice me standing there, staring, but turns to face the inside of Levi’s apartment.
“Thanks for last night, Levi! I had a great time,” she says, throwing a wave over her shoulder before shutting the door. The woman notices me for the first time and gives me a shy grin. “Oh, hi,” she says, looking down at her clothes that are clearly from last night.
I don’t respond; I can’t. My heart pounds with the force of a thousand drums in my chest, my throat tightening up and making it impossible to breathe. I didn’t realize it was possible, but I think I just felt my heart break a little in my chest. The onslaught of pain is almost deafening as blood swooshes in my ears.
The woman walks to the end of the hallway and waits for the elevator. Apparently, Levi didn’t give her the same lecture about not taking the elevator in buildings where there are just a few floors. That’s because she’s not a friend; not like I am. I’m safely tucked away in the friends-only zone, where you worry about the other’s safety, but don’t ever picture them or think about them in any situation that doesn’t fall within the strict friends-only parameters.
And that’s where I am.
Friends. Only.
I slowly make my way to the elevator and push the button. It takes it a few moments to make the ascent back up to the third floor, so I use those moments to consider my options. One, I continue to pretend I don’t have the hots for my best friend and pine away for him, hoping that over time he’ll realize that he’s secretly in love with me too. Two, I move on. I accept that Levi and I are friends and nothing more will ever come. The thought makes me hurt.
No one said life was ever easy.
As I get into the elevator car, I smile a little knowing that I’m going against something he’s always said. I’m getting into an elevator and only using it for three floors. It could break down or the city could suddenly be overtaken by severe weather and I’d be trapped. But today? I just don’t give a crap.
In my car, I crank up the radio, blasting Joan Jett, as I make my way towards Hair Haven. A new plan starts to take shape, one that already has me nervous. This next stage will force me to not only step outside my comfort zone, but to jump over it and keep going. This is the start of something bigger than dull old Abby. The sister wh
o works from home and sometimes doesn’t even get dressed that day. The one without the trail of single men following behind her (that’s AJ) or the one who can flirt as if it were as natural as breathing (that’s Lexi). I’m the one who cries at beer commercials and could never get a pet because she can’t bear the thought of losing it one day.
I’m just Abby, plain and boring.
But not anymore.
It’s time to get up and move on. Time to show myself that I can date and have fun and be carefree. It’s time I become someone different than the ordinary girl I’ve always been. Move over simple Abby because outgoing Abigail is coming.
I can do this, right?
Right!
The street is practically empty at eight a.m. on a Sunday morning, so I’m able to park directly behind Lexi’s vehicle. The front door is unlocked for me, but I throw the latch after I step through it. One time, we had a man stop by and ask for a cut. He saw the lights on and thought she was open. Since then, we’ve always locked ourselves in. And if any of the other sisters show up–which has happened on many occasions–she just runs over and lets them in.
Easy peasy.
The lights are on and there’s plenty of natural sunlight filtering in through the large front window. There are four workstations in the little shop Lexi works at. The owner gave her a shot right out of beauty school and served as her mentor as she navigated her first few years of being in the business.
“You look like you didn’t get much sleep last night,” I say to my twin as I walk over to her station.
“I’m dog tired. I couldn’t fall asleep last night to save my life. And for once, it didn’t have anything to do with Chris snoring.”
“He snores?”
“Like a freight train.”
“Is there something you can do?” I ask as I slide into the chair.
“Besides a pillow over his face?” she quips. I glance up at her face and see the slightest grin play on the corner of her lips. She’s joking. At least, I hope she is.
“I wouldn’t recommend that,” I say as she wraps the cape around my neck.
“No, you’re right. I would never do that.”
“Good.”
“Orange isn’t really my color,” she says before grabbing the box of foil squares and the pan of color that she already mixed up for my highlights. “I think we should add this reddish highlight in with the blond.” She makes it sound like a suggestion, but it’s not. It’s already happening. That point is perfectly clear by the red highlights already made up, brush sitting in the pan.
We make small talk about our other sisters, about work, and about the weather, but I know the hard stuff is coming. Both Lexi and I use these two-hour hair sessions as a way to dig in and talk about the good stuff. And by that, I mean Lexi will nag me until I finally spill whatever’s on my mind, and she’ll overshare everything I really don’t want to know about. Namely, her sex life–or lack thereof.
Instead of waiting for her to start grilling me, I decide to be bold. “I’m going to try Internet dating,” I say after a few moments of silence. She almost has my head completely foiled, and the brush stalls against the strands of hair she’s coloring.
“Really?” she asks, concern etched on her face.
“Yep. I’ve already made up my mind.” I leave out the reason why.
“Okay.”
Again, we’re silent for a few moments while she finishes and helps move me towards the dryer. Before she can put the lid down over my head and turn on the heat, I stop her hand with my own. “Will you help me?” I whisper. Fidgeting with my tablet on my lap, “I don’t really know how to talk to guys and so I might need a little coaching, Lex.”
The woman who mirrors my appearance squats down before me. “Of course I’ll help you. I’ll help with anything you want. I’ll come over and we’ll make you a kick-ass profile. I heard of this new site, PerfectDate.com, that’s supposed to be good at pairing profiles based on their compatibility. It advertises itself as finding the perfect date will lead towards your perfect forever. Or some shit like that.”
“I like it. Let’s do it.”
“Okay. What about this afternoon? I’m not doing anything and Chris is probably working on something and won’t even notice I’m missing,” Lexi mumbles, getting the dryer ready.
“Everything okay with that?”
She shrugs and gives me a sad smile. “We can talk about that later.” Then, she flips on the dryer, essentially ending the conversation.
My mind races to the prospect of setting up a dating profile. A picture, talking about myself, verbalizing what I’m looking for in a potential future spouse. It’ll all be there in black and white. Can I really do this? Well, we’re about to find out.
Ready or not, here I come.
Chapter Four
Levi
I wake up cranky. My neck has a crick in it from falling asleep wrong on my pillow, my mouth is dry from drinking too much, and the headache got progressively worse after Jessa left my apartment with the slam of the door.
Jessa. Not exactly the woman I had planned on bringing home last night. Of course, by home I mean the building. Abby has her own place across the hall. After I finished her song, we jumped right into the next one. I was anxious to get done and tear down so I could grab my friend and head back to our building. Unfortunately, she slipped out with her family before the set was over. Without saying goodbye, I might add. Not a wave, a smile, not even a kiss my ass.
Afterwards, that’s when things got real. Crystal was looking to hook up again, but I just wasn’t feeling it. Apparently, she forgot about me quickly and moved on to the next man in line, which happened to be Dexter, our drummer. He barely helped pack up our shit before he had his tongue down Crystal’s throat, his hand down the waist of her tiny little shorts.
The problem with this was that his sister, Jessa, was in town for the weekend. She was at the show, supposed to stay with her big brother, but the dumb fuck opted to invite his new friend home with them. It was either force Jessa to listen to her brother bumping uglies with a town tramp or invite her to crash at my place in my guest room.
She made her decision, which was why I didn’t sleep for shit last night. I’m not used to having company in my space, so every time she moved in bed, every time she got up to get a drink or piss, every time she coughed, I heard it. Eventually, I got up and slammed back a bottle of Jack. The burn in my stomach and the rush of sweet intoxication helped rock me to sleep. Slept like a damned baby, too.
Sundays are my day off from my workout routine, which consists of running, some free weights, and taking out a little aggression on the heavy bag. After popping a few Tylenol and taking a hot shower, I finally feel human enough to head out in public. I’m in desperate need of some groceries, and I was hoping to have Abby over for dinner tonight. I’m on the rig again Monday, so I might as well take advantage of having an entire weekend off and spend it with my best girl.
My phone dings with a text. Swiping the screen, I find a message from my buddy, Tucker. We both work for the hospital and have many shifts together, since neither of us minds working overnights. He’s also a volunteer firefighter. Tuck and I get along well and like to grab a drink after a long shift. I guess you could say he’s the male version of Abby, but without the wandering eye. No way in hell do I check out Tuck’s ass or tits the way I might steal glances of Abby’s.
But that’s not something to talk about right now.
Tuck: I’m dehydrated. Need fuel. Lunch at café at noon. Be there, fucker.
Realizing I’m starving, I shoot off a quick reply with an equally derogatory insult confirming the lunch plans, and grab my wallet and keys. I don’t bother knocking on Abby’s door to invite her along since she’s at her sister’s shop this morning. They’ll spend all morning there doing all that girly shit that isn’t necessary. She’s gorgeous in that simple, girl next door kinda way that guys always acknowledge. Fortunately for me, those that notice Abby just take a
second look. Abby’s kinda awkward when it comes to guys so it rarely makes it past the second date.
Not that she’s dated much, to my pleasure. Not sure why that makes me smile, but it does. Mostly because I don’t want her with some douchebag who only wants one thing. You know, a guy like me. Or at least how I used to be. I’m no saint, by any means, but I’m not the manwhore I prided myself on in my late teens and early twenties. She dated that weirdo, Colton, for a while. Damn, I hated that guy. He was…well, he just… I don’t know what it was, but he grated on my nerves. When she dumped him, I was the first one there to celebrate.
Good riddance, jackwad!
I jump in my truck and head towards the fire station. I have about an hour left until I meet Tuck, so it’s as good a time as any to stop by and grab my gym clothes and bring them home to wash. Plus, there’s always something there to keep you busy for a little while. Since we’re all volunteers, paid a small wage for calls, we congregate once a week for a meeting and do what we can to clean, organize, and maintain our gear and equipment. Most of us use the gym in back to workout, but there’s only a handful of guys that actually will do a bit of cleaning up after the gross fuckers that sweat all over everything and make the locker room smell like a cross between nasty ass and swampy feet.
Before I know it, it’s a few minutes before noon. My bag packed with dirty clothes is thrown in the bed of my truck as I head off to the café to meet Tuck. He’s already in a booth when I get there, chugging a glass of ice water. By the way he carries the suitcases under his eyes and he gulps water like he may never get it again, I think it’s safe to say that ol’ Tuck went out and tied one on last night.
“Long night?”
“Fuck. My head is throbbing.”