by Hazel Kelly
“Easy,” I said. “Next time we hang out like this, beg to play with my dick again.”
T W E N T Y N I N E
- Zoey -
I rolled over in my tiny twin bed and pulled Logan’s soft shirt tighter around me, wishing they were his arms as they’d been the night before.
When I tried to open my eyes, I realized they were somewhat stuck shut, but when I remembered all the eye makeup I wore to the party, I stopped panicking and curled into a ball instead, noticing an unfamiliar soreness between my legs that made the whole night come flooding back…
The way Logan found me in the crowded room and how he stole me away. The serious expression on his face when I was grinding against him and the heat of his fingers as they melted my insides.
And those kisses.
God, how I wanted his kisses even more than my next breath. They were so loaded, so intense, like kissing someone strapped to the front of a train. Time and time again, he bowled me over, rendering me speechless and addicted to his scent, his touch, his attention.
And those things he said. Those dirty, filthy things he whispered in low tones so that only I could hear them. The way he spoke to me made me forget that I didn’t know what I was doing. The way he touched me made me forget that my body wasn’t used to seeking pleasure. The way he controlled my desire made me feel like I was in such good hands that nothing could go wrong.
And much to my relief, nothing had ever felt more right. The years I’d crushed on him hadn’t been in vain. All those times I watched him lick his lips at the other end of the dinner table, wishing they were mine as I wondered if our chemistry was all in my head, it wasn’t all in my head.
We had a thing. He said it himself. There was an “us” now.
But deep down, I couldn’t help but worry that our relationship was as likely to uplift us as it was to blow up in our faces, and I needed to think carefully about what might happen if we continued down this path.
I mean, did I really want to touch his dick more than I wanted to spare my parents’ and Piper’s feelings?
Yes. Yes, I did.
Even now, after he gave me time to think about it- time I didn’t ask for- I still wanted to touch him, still wanted to see if I could do to him what he did to me. I was nervous as heck about it, but after reflecting on everything that happened last night, I could say with sober certainty that I wanted nothing more than to be his dirty little secret.
I heard the latch click and tried to open my eyes again, cringing as I watched my coated lashes unstick themselves slowly.
“Hey sinner,” Nina said, closing the door behind her.
“Hey,” I croaked, my first word of the day scratching its way out of my throat.
She sat down across from me on her unmade bed and set a brown paper bag on the floor beside her purse.
“Do I look as scary as I suspect?”
She laughed. “You know how they put slices of cucumber on your eyes when you go to the spa?”
“Not from first-hand experience, but sure.”
“It looks like you went to one that used hunks of coal instead.”
I fluffed my pillow to raise my head. “Sounds about right.”
“So when’s the wedding?”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” she said. “I’ve been working on my pitch for green bridesmaids dresses all morning.”
I smiled.
“Seriously.”
“There’s no wedding.”
“Really?” She leaned back on her hands and crossed her legs, which wore bold printed leggings that were too loud for me to look at this soon after waking. “‘Cause if a guy came down a staircase, weaved his way through a crowd, and kissed me like that, I would definitely marry him.”
“Good to know.”
“Then again, I’m only here to find a husband, so maybe we’re not on the same page.”
My brow scrunched. “What?”
“Half-joking, but seriously-”
“Wait- which half?” I sat up. “I don’t get it.”
She smirked when she realized I was sleeping in Logan’s stolen flannel again.
“You’re here to find a husband?”
“No,” she said. “I would’ve gone to school in the south if I wanted that, but that doesn’t mean my parents aren’t holding out hope.”
“Seriously?”
She shrugged. “My parents met in college. So did Sadie’s. And we have fourteen cousins, and all their parents did, too. I don’t know if it’s more of a southern thing or a Christian thing, but if I were engaged by next year and knocked up by graduation, my parents would be thrilled.”
“Wow.” I ran a hand through my hair and remembered how it felt to have Logan pull it just hard enough to make me gush. “Is that what you want?”
“God no. That’s part of the reason I came so far north for school. Same with Sadie.”
“Yeah, she definitely doesn’t strike me as someone who’s been daydreaming about her wedding since third grade.”
She shook her head. “No. We’ve talked about it. We both think it’s kind of lame how many people back home live the exact. Same. Lives.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there are whole communities where I’m from where literally everyone went to college, got married, bought a house, and started a family on nearly identical timelines. Zero variation. It’s fucking weird. God forbid you date a guy for more than two years and he doesn’t propose. People will wonder what’s wrong with you both.”
“I had no idea.”
“And God gets credit for everything,” she said. “It’s too much for me. Like, I’m all for religion if it improves your quality of life, but at my cousin’s wedding last year- I shit you not- all six of her bridesmaids made a speech about how they’d prayed for her to find someone. It made her sound so pathetic, which she isn’t. She’s a fucking fighter pilot, for chrissakes.”
“Yeah.” I tucked my covers around the top of my legs. “Seems more sad than romantic.”
“I’d be mortified if anyone I know was so desperate for me to meet someone that they prayed about it. Honestly, I’d rather they prayed for better things to pray about if they’re really so carefree that they have time to worry about my love life.”
I nodded. “Seems reasonable.”
“Don’t get me wrong. True love sounds great and everything, but it seemed to me like all the prayers for Ali’s happiness were totally focused on her meeting a man. Like, what about her health or her job satisfaction or her safety? Pray for that, by all means, but-” She sighed. “Sorry to rant. I just feel like God has better things to worry about than trying to organize his next southern wedding.”
I smiled. “I like you.”
She cocked her head. “I like you, too.”
“I promise I’ll never pray for you to meet a man.”
“Thanks for your understanding,” she said. “And sorry to unload that. It’s just- I talked to my mom this morning, and she gave me an earful of gossip about one of my cousins who just broke up with her boyfriend, and everyone’s panicked ‘cause she’s thirty-one. Thirty-one?!”
I raised an eyebrow. “For real?”
“How is she going to meet someone and have a family now? That’s what my mom said. Meanwhile, I’m on the phone thinking, shit, thirty-one is way too young to settle for someone you don’t want to be with.”
“Any age is too young to settle for someone you don’t want to be with.”
“Right?!” She brought her hands to her head like she had half a mind to pull out her gorgeous blonde hair. “How is that not totally obvious?!”
“It is to me.”
“Okay, end of rant. For real this time.” She reached down for the paper bag and tossed it to me. “I brought you a scone since you missed breakfast.”
“You’re the best.”
“It’s maple cinnamon. Hope that’s okay. They couldn’t tell me when the next batch of raspberry crumbl
e would be out, and I wasn’t in the mood to wait around.”
“No worries. Scone trumps no scone any day.” I set my pillow against the wall and leaned back against it. “I can’t believe I slept through breakfast. What time is it?”
“Eleven thirty,” she said. “Now tell me everything.”
“There’s not much to tell.” I unfolded the top of the bag, freeing a scent so sweet my mouth watered.
“Bullshit. What happened when you went upstairs.”
I didn’t want to go into too much detail since I was still processing the events myself. “I followed my gut, like you said.”
She narrowed her eyes like she was trying to read between the lines.
“Technically we followed his gut first, but it was what I wanted, too, so I didn’t panic or flee this time.”
“Good for you.”
“He wants to take things slow, though.”
“Awesome.”
“Really?” I asked. “I wasn’t sure if that was a sign I did something wrong or if it means he’s second-guessing the whole thing.”
“Not at all. It’s a sign that he’s not a douchebag and that he really likes you. Enough to put you first.”
I reached in the bag, broke off one corner of the scone, and shoved it in my mouth.
“That’s pretty rare actually. I’d even go so far as to say it’s a sign of maturity that’s practically endangered on college campuses.”
I swallowed. “Really?”
She nodded. “Most guys our age are only concerned about getting their nut, and they basically view women as helpful tools to meet that end.”
“Ouch.” I broke off another hunk of scone and started looking around for liquid. “When you say our age-?”
“I’ve heard they grow out of it.”
“I see.”
“Perhaps Logan already has,” she said.
“Perhaps.”
“Or he’s in love with you.”
I stopped chewing.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You just went all white.”
“Water,” I said, covering my dry, scone-filled mouth with my hand. “I need water.”
She grabbed a bottle from her mini-fridge and tossed it to me, and while the cool liquid helped the scone go down smoothly, it didn’t do much to help me digest her last comment.
T H I R T Y
- Logan -
If it weren’t for all the racoon-eyed sorority girls walking out the front door with their heels in their hands the next morning, I might’ve thought the whole thing was a dream.
But one by one, they snuck out the front door while I was scarfing a bowl of Cheerios and trying to ignore the carnage in the main hall. A few of them, presumably the ones who were still drunk, had the guts to peek their heads in the kitchen and have a look around.
After the third girl I caught snooping, I put a few bags of Cheez-Its on the counter by the door and sat on a table across the room to finish my breakfast. It was funny how many of the girls snatched one before they saw me, each of them looking at me guiltily, knowing it would be campus news if a frat boy stole so much as a crouton from one of their houses. But the grateful looks on their faces were amusing enough to make baiting them worthwhile.
Besides, I’d been there, trapped in that half-drunken stupor where you might murder someone for a greasy breakfast if only you had the coordination.
After staving off the voracious hunger Zoey had stoked in me last night, I went back upstairs to join the rest of the guys in postponing the cleanup for as long as possible. Not that we’d have to do much. The new pledges knew they had to be at the house at two to make it spotless again.
Unfortunately, there was a girl face down on my unmade bed when I got back to my room. I folded my arms and leaned in the doorway, recognizing the shape of her ass immediately. “What are you doing here, Jillian?”
“Looking for my friend,” she said, her voice half-muffled by the covers her face was buried in.
I sighed. We hadn’t hooked up in a long time, but I guess she thought the fact that we used to meant she could show up uninvited. Not that she wasn’t a cool chick. We hit it off at freshman orientation and fucked on and off first semester. I was heartbroken over Piper at the time, and she’d ended things with her high school sweetheart so she could experiment at college. Needless to say, we both got what we wanted out of the relationship.
But that felt like ancient history, and I felt no attachment to her. If anything, I associated her with a difficult time in my life, a time when I would’ve rather been in anybody’s pussy than inside my own head. “I think you can see that your friend isn’t here.”
“Wake me up and tell me again in two hours,” she said, not opening her eyes.
“Nice try. Where did you come from?”
She didn’t answer.
“C’mon, Jill.”
“His room is so far away.” She cocked a knee up, causing her ass to slip out the bottom of her short black dress. “I went to the bathroom, and I just couldn’t make it back.”
“You can’t stay here,” I said, staring at her ass but thinking of nothing but Zoey. If only I’d asked her to stay. It would be her here instead. I walked to the side of the bed. “I’m going to give you three seconds to tell me where you want to go, and then I’m going to roll you onto the floor.”
“Please noooo,” she groaned, grasping the covers.
“One.” I grabbed the edge of the comforter and tugged it taut, hoping she was still drunk enough to believe I might actually go through with it. “Two.”
“Fine!” she said louder, not lifting her head.
“Two and a half.” I pulled just enough that she rolled onto her back, her pale face framed by a mess of dark hair. Same as Piper’s. It was part of the reason I enjoyed sleeping with her so much. Because for just a little while, it allowed me to escape, to pretend we weren’t over. To pretend I hadn’t just lost my shot at flesh and blood family I could finally be proud of. “Jill!” I said, all out of patience.
“Tyler, okay,” she said, throwing her arms over her face. “I came from Tyler’s room.”
“Tyler?” My eyes ran down her body to the space between her upper thighs, and I considered how easy it would be to fuck her. She’d be up for it. She always was. That was one of the things I liked best about her.
Plus, she didn’t freak if you didn’t call, didn’t insist on talking about the relationship. To be honest, she was the only genuine fuck buddy I ever had. And all I had to do was reach out and touch her, invite her to touch me back. Then I could close my eyes and think about Zoey, maybe find the release I’d deprived myself of last night.
But it wouldn’t be easy at all.
Deep down, I knew I was far too hung up on the girl with the sunflower boots to even get hard for anyone else. I’d rather spend the rest of my life sleeping alone with nothing more than the memory of her lithe body in my hands, her warm tongue in my mouth, and her virgin pussy clamped around my fingers than stick my dick somewhere else.
And suddenly, as if I’d only just woken up, the whole night came flooding back…
The way she kissed me, the way she came for me, the way she wanted to make me come. I wanted her so bad I couldn’t see straight. My adopted sister. My ex’s best friend. My virgin.
I shook my head like a wet dog, my determination to be alone again returning with a vengeance, and bent down to scoop Jillian up in my arms.
She whined in protest but clung to me all the same, giving up when I began marching down the hall.
Tyler’s door was open a crack, and I kneed it open gently.
All the sheets had been kicked to the end of the bed, and Tyler was passed out with his mouth open, one of his hands stuck down his striped boxers. I walked carefully to the other side of the bed and laid Jillian down beside him. Then I grabbed the bunched sheets and brought them up over her so there was no risk of any of my nosy frat brothers getting an eyeful if she tossed and turned in her sleep.
&
nbsp; “Hey,” she said, grabbing my hand when I turned to leave.
“Get some sleep,” I said, looking down at her.
“Thanks,” she whispered, her bloodshot eyes nearly disappearing with her smile. “I love you, Lo.”
It occurred to me after I let myself out that, normally, I might’ve said “you too” or something, just to be nice.
Even twenty-four hours ago I probably would’ve. They were only words, after all. What was the fucking point of wasting them if you didn’t use them to make people feel good?
But it wasn’t twenty-four hours ago.
Everything had changed since then. Everything.
Words meant more now. Feelings meant more now.
And the truth was, Jillian didn’t really love me. Nor did I love her.
Not the way I wanted to love anyway.
Not the way I needed to love.
Not the way I might love Zoey.
T H I R T Y O N E
- Zoey -
The raspberry scones on the small coffee table had an inviting crust of sugar around their edges, and the smell of their sweet berries coupled with the scent of my steaming latte was sensational enough that I could understand why Nina was so addicted to this place.
If only she were here now, instead of outside on the phone with her cousin Sadie, who was having some sort of personal crisis that was going to become my own personal crisis if I didn’t get a goddamn scone into me soon.
Not that Nina would care if I started without her, but it didn’t seem right considering how excited she was to bring me here and the fact that it was her treat.
Fortunately, Marple’s was a treat for more than just my taste buds, and the decorations were of such variety and number that I was doing a solid job killing time by simply admiring them. Unlike the more modern and indistinguishable coffee shops I was used to passing by, Marple’s was decorated to look like the inside of someone’s cozy living room… if that someone was an eclectic aunt with a passion for framing postcards and sentimental needle points.
Even more delightful than the variety of things deemed frame-worthy, though, was that instead of mass produced, uncomfortable chairs, the place was filled with mismatched armchairs that were unique in every way except for the fact that they were all perfectly broken in.