“He said it! Drink!” Trevor slurs, passing me a shot glass.
A trickle of tequila runs down my wrist and I lick it off. “One, two, three!”
Together, the two of us toss back our shots. The sweet burn carves a path down my throat and I wince, my stomach lurching in protest. The two of us are playing a drinking game based on a show we’ve been watching together. Honestly I’ve forgotten most of the rules and I’m just kind of drinking when he tells me to.
“Oh, fuck,” I groan.
“You giving up already, you big pussy?” Trevor taunts me.
I take the bottle from him and pour myself another shot. As I toss it back, I flip him the bird and he laughs. “Fuck you,” I wheeze as I slam the glass down on the coffee table.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” he shoots back
I pucker my lips and blow kisses at him, leaning in closer. “It’s whatever you want it to be, Sweet Cheeks,” I slur back.
I’m expecting a laugh or for him to shove me away, but something in his expression shifts. There’s a sudden intensity I’ve never seen that flares in his dark eyes, and before I can blink, I feel his mouth land on mine with crushing force.
It’s rough enough to cut my lower lip, and the metallic tang of copper spreads slowly on my tongue, but I hardly notice, my entire world falling away until all I see, all I feel, is Trevor.
Until suddenly, he yanks back. The sudden absence leaves me feeling cold and startled, like the shock of a blanket being ripped away while you were in a cozy sleep. “Fuck, dude, I’m sorry,” he gets to his feet and stumbles back.
“Trev, I-“
“I, uh, I’ve had too much to drink,” he says quickly, “I’m gonna call it a night.”
“Trevor-“
But before I can say anything more, he disappears up the stairs, leaving my lips throbbing and my head a mess.
The front door creaks open and I look up from the same paragraph I’ve been trying to read for the last twenty minutes.
“Good night,” Veronica’s voice sounds dreamy as she slips in the door and watches Trevor walk back to his car.
She shuts the door slowly and turns, her lips drawn into a wide smile. When she sees me, she jumps, startled. “Oh, shit, you scared me,” she gasped.
“Sorry. Have a nice night?” I asked her.
The blissful smile spreads across her cheeks again. “Yeah,” she says, reaching up and touching her lips and drawing my eye to her smudged lipstick, “Yeah, really nice.”
“That’s good.”
“How about you?” she asks, gesturing to my book, “Good read?”
I shrug. “It’s not my usual thing,” I admit, “I was just kind of borrowing something from my dad.”
“And you found something that isn’t a Western? I’m impressed.” She remarks.
I laugh. “Yeah, it was a challenge,” I agree.
“I don’t know what you normally read, but you’re welcome to look through my shelf if you want,” she offers.
“I think I’ll take you up on that,” I tell her, getting to my feet.
“Sure, come on,” she leads me upstairs to her room.
I can smell a faint hint of Trevor’s cologne mingling with her perfume as I follow her up the stairs, and it makes my dick twitch. I follow her into her room and I’m pleasantly surprised by the way she’s changed it.
I remember walking by years ago and seeing every inch plastered with movie posters and CD pamphlets, but now, all of that is gone, and it’s been replaced by beautifully detailed murals. I look around in awe. “This is incredible,” I breathe.
The walls are painted with trees and flowers, and the overall effect makes me feel like I’ve been dropped into some kind of enchanted forest. Even the ceiling is painted to look like you’re looking up at the sky through leaves, and somehow she’s managed to capture the effect of the dappled sunlight.
“How did you do this?” I ask in amazement, gazing with awe up at her ceiling.
“A lot of time spent staring at the sky,” she answers, a smile in her voice.
I look at her and see a dreamy expression on her face, and I can just imagine her laying below a tree and watching the clouds, soaking in inspiration. It’s a pretty picture.
“So I’ve got some classics, some cheesy young adult stuff, some horror…” her words draw me out of my trance and I look at her.
She’s picking through her bookshelf, looking over the titles, “Like I said, don’t really know what you’re into, but if there’s anything here that catches your eye, you’re welcome to borrow it.”
I stride over and look. She’s got a number of interesting titles, and I end up plucking a Stephen King novel off the shelf. “Have you ever read that one?” she asks.
“I haven’t. I’ve read a few of his, though.”
“Well, maybe when you finish it, we can watch the movie,” she offers, “They kept to it really well, I was super impressed. But don’t ever bother with the sequel, it was absolute garbage.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I smile, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she smiles.
I start to leave the room, but something stops me and I turn to look at her over my shoulder. “Hey, so I really need to go get some more clothes tomorrow, I can’t keep borrowing shit from my dad. Anywhere around here you’d recommend?”
“Didn’t you grow up here, too?” she asks, sounding puzzled.
“Yeah, but it’s been a while. Towns change, you know? A lot of new stuff has been built. And it’s not like I’m a super savvy shopper or anything, maybe you know some secret hot spot I don’t.”
“Well,” she hedges, “I’ve got an exam tomorrow at eleven, but if you want to pick me up after, maybe I can point you in the right direction.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be there,” I tell her. “Well, goodnight.”
“Night,” she kicks off her heeled sandals as I leave the room.
I settle myself in bed, but I can hear the bathroom door closing and the sound of running water when Veronica jumps in the shower. My mind paints a vivid picture of exactly what’s going on on the other side of that wall, bare skin and steam, and even as blood rushes to my cock, I feel a simultaneous rush of shame.
I know we’re not actually blood relatives. Hell, we’re virtual strangers. But I still know it’s fucked up to be thinking about her like this…right?
I think about her smudged lipstick coming in the door tonight and feel envy rip through me again. All night, I’ve been thinking I was jealous of her for going out with Trevor. But now I’m starting to wonder if maybe some of that jealousy is directed at him, too.
Chapter 6
Veronica
Jackson’s rental car is already waiting for me in the parking lot when I walk out after my exam. I’m actually kind of excited to hang out with Jackson after last night.
It was the first time I’d felt like I connected with him. The way he lost himself in the murals in my bedroom had been a hell of an ego boost. And when he’d picked my favorite book from the shelf?
I don’t know, maybe it’s superstitious or silly, but something about seeing him choose that book, of all the ones on my shelf, just struck me.
“Hey, how’d your test go?” he asks as I slide into the passenger seat beside him.
“Felt pretty good,” I tell him, “I won’t say with a hundred percent certainty that I aced it or anything, but I can pretty confidently say that I passed, at least.”
“I’m sure you did better than you think,” he assures me as we pull out of the lot.
“Well, thanks.”
“So, where are we going?” he asks me.
“Um, take a left at the next light,” I direct him.
I hadn’t given much thought to where I was taking him, but on a whim, I decide to take him to my favorite thrift shop. And fortunately it’s in the same strip mall with some larger stores, in case he isn’t feeling anything at the thrift store.
“Take a rig
ht here,” I instruct a few moments later.
Other than my directions, there’s a quiet that falls over it, but surprisingly, it’s not an awkward, tense silence. It’s actually surprisingly comfortable, relaxed.
“Take another right at the stop sign and then just go straight and it’ll take you right into the parking lot after the light,” I explain, glancing out the window.
He nods and follows the steps I’ve given him until pulling into the lot. “See? I knew asking you was the right idea, I’ve never heard of this place before.”
I smile. “Well, I like the optimism.”
We get out of the car and head inside. He holds open the door for me, and for a brief moment, I think of Trevor and feel a mysterious stab of guilt. But why? We’ve only been on a few dates, and even if we were committed, all I’m doing is helping Jackson do some shopping.
But I know deep down that it’s not my actions that are causing my guilt, but the conflicted feelings whirling in my brain. I know I shouldn’t be drawn to Jackson this way, but I can’t help it.
“Is all the stuff in here that retro style you like?” he asks as I lead him back to the clothing section.
“Definitely not,” I assure him, “They’ve got a little bit of everything.”
I turn him loose in the clothing section, curious to see what he’ll pick. I know as a lawyer, he probably spends a lot of time in suits, but I wonder what he’d choose when he can just be himself.
While he’s picking things to try, I flip through some of the racks myself, to see if anything sparks my interest. A patten catches my eye and I push several hangers aside to get a better look.
I can’t help the enormous smile that spreads across my face. The dress I’ve found is adorable, black and pattered with bright red cherries. I glance at the tag, crossing my fingers for my size. It’s not exactly right, but to my excitement, it’s a size too large. Even if it doesn’t fit quite right, I’m sure I could take it in.
So I pluck it off the rack. “Found something for yourself, huh?”
Jackson’s voice makes me jump. I turn to look and see him with a variety of garments draped over his arm. “I don’t think I’ve ever successfully left this place empty handed,” I admit with a laugh.
“I can see why, it’s a cool little place,” he says.
“I take it you’ve found some stuff you’re interested in?” I ask, nodding at his armful.
“Definitely.”
“Well, come on, the fitting rooms are right back here,” I say, leading him to the back.
While he shuts himself in one of the rooms and presumably starts to work though his pile, I slip into one of the others to try on the dress.
As someone who has sewn several articles of my own clothing, I’ve got to say, I will never understand why manufacturers think it’s a good idea to install zippers in a place that requires you to dislocate your fucking shoulders to reach them.
I let out an annoyed groan of frustration after the fourth attempt. “Everything ok?” I hear Jackson ask.
“I’m fine, I just can’t zip this stupid thing,” I sigh in annoyance.
“Want some help?”
“Sure,” I pull the dress together to make sure everything is covered before slipping out of the fitting room.
Jackson steps out and I can’t help but stare a little. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in jeans that really fit his frame, and paired with the deep blue shirt that skims his torso, he looks positively delicious.
What the fuck, Roni? I think to myself. Don’t be weird.
I turn around and lift my hair out of the way. I can feel the heat of Jackson’s hands at the small of my back when he grips the zipper, and that warmth slides up my back as he tugs it up. It’s enough to make goosebumps ripple across my flesh and my nipples harden.
When his hands move away, I let my hair fall and I turn back around. “How’s it look?”
His eyes take in every inch of me and he’s quiet for a long moment. “It looks amazing,” he answers finally.
“Th-thank you,” my face heats up.
Maybe I’m not the only weird one, because the way Jackson is looking at me is pretty far from “brotherly.”
“I, um, I’m gonna go take a look in the mirror. Thanks,” I mumble, then slip back into the dressing room.
Why is my heart racing? Even if I don’t want to admit it, he’s my stepbrother, I shouldn’t be having these weird, crush-y feelings for him.
And besides that, I’m sort of in the beginnings of a relationship with his best friend, much as that seems to piss him off. So whatever this weird feeling is, I need to make it go away.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Don’t think about him, I tell myself, Let’s take a look at this dress.
I look into the mirror, and to my surprise, the dress is a better fit than I expected. It’ll definitely need to be taken in at the waist, but it actually fits nicely around my chest, and it actually gives me some pretty decent cleavage and makes me look curvy in all the right places.
“Do you need some help out of that?” Jackson’s voice behind me startles me out of my self-admiration.
I glance over my shoulder and see that his eyes are still all over my body. I lift my arms behind my back, but once again, the zipper pull is nowhere near my fingertips. “I think so.”
Jackson strides forward and grips the pull, and I feel his hands move down until he guides the pull into my fingers.
When our hands touch, the heat of his skin on mine sends a spark straight between my thighs. My own breathing sounds too heavy and loud in my ears, and I’m sure that Jackson can read my filthy mind. I grip the zipper pull and tug it the rest of the way down, and I hear a sharp intake of breath. “Well, I’m gonna keep trying stuff,” Jackson says quickly, his voice rough.
Once he steps out, I let out my breath. My heart is pounding, but even with my skin still tingling, I feel a wash of shame all over again. I wriggle out of the dress and back into my clothes, and do my best to push all of these weird feelings as far out my head as possible.
A few hours later, the two of us are wandering around our third store for the day when my stomach growls. “Wow, I heard that,” Jackson laughs.
I blush a little, but I’m laughing, too.
“What time is it, anyway?” he pulls his phone from his pocket, “Oh, fuck, my battery’s dead.”
“Let me see,” I pull out mine and to my surprise, I see that I have a flurry of missed calls, voicemails, and texts.
I realize that I never turned my sound back on after my exam. “Everything ok?” Jackson asks.
“Hang on,” I hold up a finger as I dial my voicemail and listen to the first message from Keith.
My heart stops and I look up at Jackson. “We need to leave. Now.”
Chapter 7
Veronica
Three Days Later
The house greets me with a silence that I feel down to my bones. I know Jackson and Keith will be along soon, they were right behind me, but being alone in the house right now is almost more than I could stand.
Trevor had offered to come home with me, but I told him to go on home. It was sweet enough of him to have come to the funeral anyway.
My mother was gone. The loss of her presence is more than just an emptiness in the house, it feels like a hole in my fucking chest.
While Jackson and I had been fucking shopping, some idiot had been texting while he was driving. He’d run a red light and t-boned my mother, and all while Jackson and I were fooling around trying on goddamn clothes, Keith was trying to reach me because my mother was living out her final moments in the hospital.
He’s told me over and over again that it’s not my fault. It’s not Jackson’s fault, it’s not anyone’s fault but that irresponsible piece of shit whose party plans had been more important than my mother’s life. But even so, I can’t tell which has been more consuming: My grief or my guilt.
How can I forgive myself, knowing that instead of
being with my own mother in her last moments, I was having a weird moment of sexual tension with my fucking stepbrother? I’m so disgusted with myself I can barely stand the sight of my own face in the mirror.
Her wedding photo with Keith hangs proudly on the wall, and her smiling face gazing at me is like a punch to the gut, winding me and bringing a familiar sting to my eyes. I wrap my arms around my waist and try to blink away the tears, but they spill over and I’m lost.
I sink down to my knees and cover my face with my hands, sobbing. I’d remained dry-eyed through the funeral somehow, in some weird state of numb disbelief, but something about the empty house is just driving it all home.
I’m still lost in this torrential downpour of grief when I feel a hand on my back. I nearly jump out of my skin, startled, and whip my head around.
Jackson stands behind me, and all I can see on his face is a look of pity. I try and straighten up and pull myself together, humiliation staining my skin a flushed pink. I can only imagine what a fucking train wreck I’d looked like, crouched like a gargoyle in the middle of the living room, tears and snot pouring down my face.
It seems like everywhere I turn, I’m just making an ass of myself. “Sorry, I-“
“Don’t apologize,” he says sharply, startling me.
I look at him and his brow is furrowed with an anger I don’t understand, but when my eyes meet his, he softens. “Don’t apologize,” he repeats, “You grieve however the fuck you need to.”
For a long moment, I don’t know what to say, but suddenly I remember that Jackson’s been here, too. He lost his mom a long time ago. But at the same time, he still has Keith. I never met my dad, so for all I know, I’m an orphan now. Mom never told me who he was, and honestly, I wasn’t interested. She’d told me enough about him that I knew I was better off with him far away from me.
Just Between Us: MMF Bisexual Romance Page 3