by ANDREA SMITH
His parents both thought Weston partied too much, whored around too much, and, generally, fucked off too much. His father was less tolerant of all of that than his mother. She wasn’t judgy at all. She generally smoothed things over between the two males when it reached the level where she felt compelled to intervene. Weston figured it was some alpha thing between the two of them because it hadn’t always been that way.
He wondered if Penny were actually the type of chick his father would approve of. Smart. Driven. Responsible. Maybe if his parents had an opportunity to see for themselves that finally, at age twenty-one, Weston was taking life a bit more seriously than he had in the past, he would regain some legitimacy in his father’s eyes.
He had never taken a girl to a family gathering before. Thanksgiving presented an opportunity to do that, and maybe it was time.
Or maybe not.
He really needed to give more thought to this idea. No more knee-jerk reactions. Besides that, how insensitive would that be to Penny? The worst possible thing would be giving the poor girl the impression he was trying to cultivate some type of romantic relationship with her. Still, he liked the thought of them being friends.
He needed to think this whole thing through, maybe even get some outside opinions.
Her voice broke into his thoughts. “So, are we ready to start reviewing your last chapters of Pride and Prejudice before your test next Tuesday?”
Weston groaned, and took the stack of papers she handed him.
“Don’t worry, as soon as this is finished, you get to move on to the next book on your list for next semester.
Weston brightened at the notion of finally being done with Jane Austen. “Thank fuck,” he muttered.
“Yes, I think you’re going to really enjoy Emily Brontë,” she replied with a nerdy smile on her face. Wuthering Heights. You’ll love it!”
“Fuck my life,” Weston grumbled.
Chapter 24
So, Eva and I aren’t speaking much to one another and I hate it. I absolutely fucking hate it! But why should I be the one to break the silence? I’m not the one that accused her of fabricating something, which is simply a more civilized word for lying, am I right?
This is a first for us. We’ve never had a major disagreement and now it’s a matter of who possesses more stubbornness, I suppose. Still, if it had been me accusing her of fabricating, I think I would have stepped up to the plate by now and extended the olive branch.
Eva sure can be stubborn.
I’m in my room preparing a paper for my poli-sci class. Eva has been shut in her room since I got home.
She’s actually home a lot more in the evenings since Marcus has hockey practice it seems every spare moment. So far, Hardwick has played two games and lost both. Apparently, Weston is missed. I’m not sure of when the next game is or whom Hardwick even plays since Eva and I aren’t speaking to one another.
I hear the soft ‘beep’ from my laptop, signaling that I have a new email.
Oh for Chrissake…it’s flippin’ Stuart. And there’s an attachment with the email.
What now?
I open up his email and read the two-sentence message:
Dear Peyton,
I hope this finds you well. I can’t stop thinking about you – about us and the harsh words we exchanged. That’s not who I want to be, do you? At any rate, Mr. Winky misses his Muffy.
XOXO Stuart.
He has got to be kidding me!
Who the fuck is Mr. Winky, and what’s his story?
And Muffy?
Except for the fact that he has personalized the email greeting with my name, I’m tempted to think I got this by mistake; that Stuart has blessedly moved on.
I click on the .jpg attachment that is labeled ‘Mr. W.’ and gasp audibly.
It’s a picture of his dick! He appears to have manhandled it into erectile mode. His hand is still gripping the center of it while I can only guess his other hand was busy snapping the photo.
Has he gone loony here? And seriously, did he name his…member?
Has Stuart gone mad? From the ‘Mr. Winky’ bit through to the ‘XOXO’ sign off; along with the attached picture of his pecker, this is so not Stuart. I’m simply dumbfounded here.
What is he trying to prove? Maybe my admission stung his male ego more than I ever anticipated?
Damn!
“Eva!” I holler, standing up and dashing out of my room and down the hallway, momentarily forgetting that we’re not speaking. Eva understands this kind of shit way more than I do.
She pokes her head out of her bedroom. “Yes?” her tone is cool and aloof, and then I remember our status.
“Can we call a truce here for a few minutes, please? You have to see this email I got from Stuart. I’m totally creeped.”
Her body language shifts back to normal as she follows me back to my room.
“Look,” I say, waving my hand toward the screen. “It just came in this afternoon.”
Eva slides into the chair at my desk and I watch as she reads the message, and then clicks on the attachment. Her mouth drops open. She knows just how out of character this type of behavior is for Stuart, the same way I do. I can see the shock in her eyes as she absorbs what she’s seeing and turns to look up at me. I’m certain she finds this as ‘off the wall” as I do!
“Holy fuck! You never told me he had a Teenie Weenie Peenie!”
My eyes widen in surprise. This is totally not what I expected her first words would be once she saw the idiocy of my ex-boyfriend. Before I can think, I simply blurt, “What the hell did I have to compare it to?”
And then we both dissolve into hysterical laughter. I drop down onto my bed, rolling, as she continues to gape at Stuart’s apparent lack of a dong. I’m laughing so damn hard, I’ve got tears in my eyes and I can’t catch my breath.
“So,” she says, wiping her eyes and trying to catch her breath, “was the clown hung better than old Stuart?”
I immediately stop laughing to glance over at her. Does she finally believe me or is she simply trying to patronize me? I only have to look at her expression for a split second before I realize that my BFF no longer doubts me.
“Oh, trust me,” I say, now wiping at my eyes, “no contest there.”
And it slowly grows quiet as we both come to terms with the fact that we don’t want to be angry at one another any longer. There’s no point to it. It serves no purpose other than to make my stomach tie itself up in knots, and hers the same, I’m sure. Eva loves me like a sister, the same way that I love her. That will never change no matter how many spats we have.
We both know it.
“Pey, listen,” she starts, getting up and coming to sit on the edge of my bed, “I’m really, really sorry for…“
“Stop,” I reply, holding up my hand to quiet her. “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”
She immediately breaks into a wide grin. She recognizes that I’m quoting something from a movie. It’s a game we sometimes play to smooth things over or just for the hell of it during times of high drama, or to be funny. We come up with a corny quote from an old movie. We’re both movie buffs, although our taste in old movies differs significantly.
“Wait. Wait. Gimme a sec, here…”she says, rubbing her fingers in a circular motion against her temples. I can see her mind racing to recall the movie. “Ryan O’Neal in Love Story?” she asks, not quite sure whether she’s right or not.
“You got it,” I reply smiling, giving her a high five.
“You’re such a geek,” she says, shaking her head.
“Wanna go out for pizza?” I ask.
“Sure.”
And I know things are better between the two of us.
I delete Stuart’s email without responding before I grab my jacket and head for dinner with my best friend.
Chapter 25
Weston had just finished with his physical therapy. He had actually finished reading Pride and Prejudice while in the whirlpool bec
ause he knew Penny would quiz him tomorrow in preparation for the final test the following week. All he had left to do was re-read all of the notes he’d made over the course of his studies. He could do that later before bed. He was probably as prepared as he would ever be for Penny’s final test.
That brought him to the subject of how to approach her tomorrow during their session. He was going to invite her to have Thanksgiving with his family if she had no other plans, which he was pretty sure she did not. She didn’t seem to be grieving over her break-up with Stuart, unless she happened to be a talented actress. His approach was critical though. She was a different type of female than what he had generally encountered socially.
Walked to the beat of a different drum and all that shit.
But the way Weston had it figured, he would actually be killing two birds with one stone. He would bring a date for Thanksgiving that would prove to his parents, in particular his father, that he was taking his studies and college seriously. He wasn’t all about getting pussy. Penny would be proof of that! Plus, it would even serve to cement his friendship with Penny, and it wouldn’t hurt to have brainiac friends like her.
She had turned out to be not quite the nerdy bitch he had first labeled her as. It was true, she had her moments and was fairly a no-nonsense type chick, but even so, she deserved better than Stuart. Maybe Weston could serve as a distraction if she was, in fact, silently mourning their break-up.
After all, the way he figured it, having a friend such as Weston might actually instill some confidence in her that was sorely lacking. They would actually be doing one another a favor! At least that’s how Weston saw it. He hoped he could sell Penny on the idea without giving her some false impression.
He had no sooner climbed the steps to the fraternity house, when the front door opened and Alex and Drake spilled out onto the porch. “Hey dude, how’d your PT go?” Drake asked.
“Good,” Weston replied, “I can start practice again right after Thanksgiving.”
“About fucking time, Matthews,” Alex barked. “The season is starting to suck donkey balls.”
“You don’t even play,” Weston replied, laughing.
“True, but we all have to put up with Marcus’ lousy mood post-game, am I right?”
“Yeah, yeah, I guess that’s true,” Weston conceded. “Where are you two headed?”
“Just out to grab a couple of beers and some wings. It’s six-dollar pitcher night at Big Daddy’s. Want to hang with us?”
Weston considered the offer. He still had some studying to do, although he actually needed to eat. Maybe he could even kick around his approach with those two. “Sure,” Weston replied, “I’m taking my own car though because I’ve got to make it an early night. Penny’s got a pre-test quiz for me tomorrow and I’ve got to study.”
Weston didn’t miss Alex nudging Drake as they headed toward Alex’s car. “See that Drake? I told you someone’s into having that velvet whip cracked across his ass.”
“Funny, Alex,” Weston growled, clicking the remote to unlock his own car. “I’ll meet you at Big Daddy’s. I actually need both of you to be my sounding board this evening.”
“Sounding board?” Alex asked, quirking a brow.
“Yeah, maybe a little frat brother advice is all.”
“You? You fucking need advice from one of us?” Alex asked, a wave of pure disbelief washed over him. “Is it chick business?”
Weston nodded, “Sort of, I guess,” he said as he climbed into the driver seat of his car. “But not the way you’re thinking, I’m sure. Different situation so I need a new approach.”
“Oh man, this is new! Shit---usually it’s the other way around, dude,” Drake yelled as he climbed into Alex’s car.
After downing a pitcher of beer, the server placed a platter of hot wings at their table, along with a fresh pitcher.
“So hit us up, Weston,” Drake said as he grabbed a wing. “Let us be your ‘Dear Abby’ of romance. Is this about the chick Alex told me about that works here? That friend of Eva’s?”
Weston shot Alex a dark look. “No, it isn’t and what the fuck is it with you two? Got vaginas?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Alex snapped, with a wry smile, filling his glass with beer.
“You two gossip like a couple of chicks, that’s what it means. This has nothing to do with her. This is about my tutor…Penny Lane.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Alex asked, dropping a wing back onto his plate.
“Relax. This isn’t about romance or sex – like I said, it is something unique.”
“Oh,” Alex replied, sounding disappointed. “Well, whatever. No matter. It’s still the same: bros before hoes. How can we help?”
Weston proceeded to explain his current situation with respect to his family, and the words he’d had with his father after Carson had been hospitalized.
“It’s just that I’m fucking tired of him always judging me as if he was so fucking perfect at my age. I’m tired of being accused of not taking my education seriously and, fuck, he expects me to have my whole life planned out by this time. Who the hell really knows their life plan at twenty-one?”
“And this has what to do with chicks?” Drake asked, chugging his beer.
Weston shot him a look. “Chill. I’m getting to that part, asshole.”
“Then cut to the chase, Weston,” Alex chimed in, grabbing another wing. “There’s only so much tolerance we have when it doesn’t involve sex or depravity.”
“I’m thinking of inviting Penny to have Thanksgiving with me…and with my family. I mean, I think it would be a nice gesture.”
They both stared at Weston has if he’d grown another head.
“Are you serious? Are you fucking serious?”
Weston nodded.
“Wait, wait,” Drake interjected. “Just to be sure. We are talking about the chick that you’ve complained about all semester, right? The one whose face could stop a clock?”
They both smacked the top of the table with their palms, and laughed like the dickheads they were. “Fill me up, Bro,” Drake said holding his empty mug up for Alex to refill. “Okay, we get it. You’re playing a practical joke on your old man for always being in your shit, right?”
“I think it’s brilliant, Matthews,” Alex chimed in, “I mean, what could be a better distraction from being on your nuts about grades and shit like that then bringing an ugly girl home for the holiday?”
They both whooped it up, giving one another high fives at the table.
Weston realized the stupidity of trying to discuss anything with those two that was halfway serious. “Never mind. I’m sorry I even brought it up,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. He tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “Here’s my share. I’m heading back to the house.”
“Well, that was fucking rude,” Drake said, snickering. “Dude acts like he’s lost his sense of humor. I’m convinced he needs to get laid. He’s not thinking straight.”
“No shit. Someone needs to tell Matthews that life is too fucking short to get all tied up in knots over parental bullshit like that. Oh, check it out! He left too soon, man,” Alex said, nodding over towards the bar.
Drake followed his stare and saw the smokin’ hot server that had waited on the group of them the night Weston had hit on her, pinning her name tag onto her Big Daddy’s midriff shirt.
“Shit, that’s…”
“Weston’s wet dream,” Alex finished. “She’s not usually here throughout the week. Wonder what’s up with that?”
“Stalk much?” Drake commented, swigging the last of his beer.
“Yeah, right. I come here enough to know who’s who, that’s all asshole. Hey, you’re buying the next pitcher.”
“No problem, dickhead,” Drake replied, “I’ll go to the bar and get it myself as a matter of fact.”
Alex cocked an eyebrow. Drake on draft beer wasn’t always a good thing. Especially since he’d been drinkin
g at the house before they’d left to come here to eat.
Drake set the empty pitcher on the bar, tossing an appreciative gaze at the…‘Hello, I’m Peyton’ name tag displayed just to the right of her scrumptious rack.
“Hey doll? Remember me?” he asked, giving her a smile and a wave.
She glanced up from where she was filling another pitcher from the tap. “Not really.”
“Let me give you a hint: ‘Got milk?’” He followed that up with a loud guffaw.
“How could I forget,” she replied, frostily. “One of the frat boys, huh?”
“Yep, you’ve got it. But you only had eyes for one of us that night, so you’re forgiven. I’m Drake. I don’t play hockey like Holt and Matthews. Gives me more free time for the ladies.”
“Where are you and the ladies sitting? I’m presuming you’re running a tab?”
“Over there,” Drake said, tossing his thumb up and motioning behind him. “With Alex. We’re batching it tonight.”
“I see. Michelob?”
“You remembered. I’m impressed,” he remarked, his eyes lowering to her cleavage. “Hey, you just missed Matthews.”
“Darn my luck anyway,” Peyton replied, filling up his pitcher.
“Yeah,” he said with a laugh, “he had to leave early to study. He’s got some coyote ugly tutor from hell on his nuts. And get this doll…”
“What the hell is taking you so long, Drake?” Alex interrupted, coming up behind him. “Are you harassing the beautiful help again?”
Drake turned and gave Alex the bird. “I was just getting ready to tell Peyton here about how we harassed Matthews about his idea of inviting his fugly tutor to meet his family for Thanksgiving to get back at his old man. You know, a practical joke?”
“Shut the fuck up, I’m dying of thirst here,” Alex snapped impatiently. “Besides, it’s rude to toss someone else’s business out there. I’m sure the lady here couldn’t care less.”
Peyton set the pitcher on the bar. “That’s six bucks.”
Alex dropped a ten on the bar. “Keep the change, babe,” he said, giving her a wink. “I promise, I’ll keep this one on a leash.”