Best Jerk

by Lulu Pratt

  Grayson kicked up the pace again. He pounded into me, something animalistic taking over, and we got lost in the rhythm, the sounds of our fucking filling the room. Grayson shoved himself deep inside me as he released, and I felt his cock pumping, emptying himself. It pushed me over the edge, and I orgasmed again, my body milking his as we rode out the wave together.

  It felt like forever before the sensation let up and I finally drifted back. Grayson was breathing hard, his face sweaty, lips parted. He rolled off me, his softening dick slipping out, and we lay together on the bed, panting, still caught up in the high of what we’d done.

  Grayson turned his head to me and grinned. I didn’t know what to expect. Was he going to get dressed and run like he had the last time? Pretend it had never happened? Or was this going to be different because I meant something now?

  “Come here,” Grayson said and stretched out his arms. I rolled onto his chest, my leg draped over his thigh. Grayson closed his arm around my shoulder, and the feeling of him wanting me after we did the dirty was almost as pleasurable as the orgasms themselves. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

  Chapter 18

  Grayson

  When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was right away. My head ached dully, and my cock throbbed, which meant I’d had alcohol and sex. When I turned my head, Callie was asleep next to me. Her hair was fanned out on her pillow, the sheets were tucked to her chest, and she looked like the models in mattress advertisements.

  I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I felt lighter than I had in a long time, and I thought about what had happened at the restaurant, telling Callie everything about Jenna and Carter. God, I had been such an asshole to her, and then, I’d had a little breakdown in the restaurant like a pussy.

  But getting it off my chest had been good. I hadn’t talked about what had happened since Jenna’s death had become older news and bottling it up had only turned me into a bitter jerk. I still felt silly that I had put it all out there.

  Callie had been amazing through it all. She had been supportive and comforting and caring, and she had put everything I had done wrong behind her as if it hadn’t happened. I had come home with her, and we fucked. In a way, my pathetic sob story had got me laid. I guess it had restored my manhood.

  I ran a hand down my face. I was such a dick, acting like fucking a woman meant nothing more than a release, but with Callie, it was always more. I would die before I admitted it out loud, though.

  After using the bathroom and pulling on my boxers, I splashed cold water on my face and looked in the mirror. Sometimes when I looked at myself, I didn’t recognize the person I saw anymore.

  I closed my eyes and flashed on Jenna’s face. When I thought about my little sister, I struggled to remember what she looked like, how she sounded. I thought about a joke we had shared before her wedding to Carter. She had been a vision in her dress, and she had laughed, the sound pure and golden. When I thought about an incident, a memory I had shared with her, I could remember her face and the sound of her voice perfectly.

  I opened my eyes, and I was ripped back to reality. I was left behind alone, and everyone else was moving on. This was fucking bullshit. Anger rose in my throat like bile, and I wanted to scream and shout and break something. But I bit back the anger, swallowed my pain, and left the bathroom. Because no matter how angry I became, it wouldn’t bring Jenna back.

  Maybe that was what everyone else knew all along, why they could move on when I couldn’t. Maybe they understood that holding onto the past wouldn’t change it, that the only way to let go was to look ahead.

  It wasn’t as easy for me as it was for them. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop being upset that Carter seemed to have forgotten about Jenna. But he deserved to be happy. I didn’t like that it wasn’t with Jenna, but the last thing I wanted for my best friend, my used-to-be brother-in-law, was that he continued to hurt as much as I was.

  When I walked back into the room, Callie was awake, and she blinked sleepy eyes at me.

  “Morning,” she said and smiled.

  “Morning,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

  “How are you feeling?” Callie asked. I cringed. Now that it was out there and I was sober and trying to act normal again, it was harder to answer that question truthfully.

  “I’ll be all right,” I said, which was the closest I could manage.

  Callie smiled. “Coffee,” she said, and I agreed. She pulled on cute shorts and a tank top, and I had to focus not to get turned on by her again.

  She put the kettle on in the kitchen and pulled out two mugs before she took a box of cereal from the cabinet next to the fridge.

  “It’s cliché, but you’re welcome to have a bowl,” she said. I laughed.

  “I haven’t had cereal in ages.”

  Callie laughed and took out two bowls and milk. The coffee maker chimed, and she took the pot off the burner, pouring hot coffee into the mugs. We sat down around her kitchen counter and had cereal and coffee.

  “Do you mind if I ask you about it?” Callie asked.

  I glanced up at her. I wasn’t sure if I could do it all again, but for some reason, I nodded.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Head-on collision,” I said simply. “A deer ran in front of her car, and she swerved into oncoming traffic. She died a few hours later in the hospital.”

  Callie shook her head and sipped her coffee.

  “When was it?” she asked.

  “Just before her wedding anniversary. That day we went to the club, actually.”

  Callie frowned. “When we…”

  I nodded. It was starting to become apparent that I’d used sex as an escape. Callie looked out the window, working something out. She lifted her hand to her head, running her fingers over her scalp above her ear. I watched her as her face changed, her skin becoming ashen and her eyes widening.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  Callie shook her head. “I just remembered about a meeting I have today. It’s an important one.” She glanced at the clock above her microwave. “I’m going to be late.”

  It seemed like a cover-up, but if she didn’t want to share, she didn’t have to. She wasn’t obliged to open up to me just because I’d opened up to her.

  “I need to get back as well,” I said.

  We finished our coffee and cereal in a strained, rushed silence before heading back to the bedroom. I pulled on the clothes I had worn last night. Callie jumped into the shower, and she was made up and dressed in an impressively short time.

  She kissed me awkwardly at the door and locked up behind me before she got into her car. I offered to take an Uber, and she seemed relieved. Whatever was bothering her had her flustered, and I wasn’t going to stop her from doing what she needed to do.

  The car dropped me at John’s place, and I walked into the house. John and Carter were both in the kitchen at the breakfast table when I walked in.

  “And he returns,” Carter said, “with last night’s clothes on.”

  I pulled up my shoulders.

  “You owe me ten bucks,” John said.

  “Did you bet on me?” I asked.

  John and Carter both nodded.

  “Dad said you would be back early. I said you would stay for round two. I thought I knew you better. I guess whoever she was, she wasn’t that good.”

  I shook my head. Callie had been fantastic. I would have liked to go for round two, for sure. And round three. And round four if I’d had the time. But she had damn near kicked me out. I wasn’t going to share that I’d been with Callie, either.

  “So, was she any good?” Carter asked. “I hope you’re seeing the good side of Austin while you’re here.”

  “She was all right,” I said because I didn’t want any more questions. So far, I hadn’t had to lie about anything. I’d only toned down what a fucking good night I’d had.

  “Sit down,” John said. “Have coffee.”

  “I just h
ad some,” I said. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll join you afterward.”

  They tried to ask more questions, but I managed to escape, and I was relieved. I climbed the stairs to my room and locked myself in my bathroom. I turned on the hot water and stood under the spray. I felt like it was all running down the drain — last night, the confessions, the sex, this morning. I washed my body and hair and dried myself off when I was done, preparing myself for more questions when I finally went back downstairs. When I joined Carter in the kitchen again, John had already left.

  “So, now that it’s just the two of us, anything you want to share?”

  I shook my head. “There isn’t much to tell. You know how it goes. It’s a good release but not much to look back on.”

  It was all a big lie. Everything with Callie was something to remember, and I couldn’t get her out of my mind. But there was no way I was going to let Carter know that I liked the woman I fought with every time I saw her. Instead, I did exactly what I’d thought I would never do here in Austin. I asked about the wedding.

  “What’s on our agenda for the day?” I asked. “What do we need to handle for the wedding?”

  Carter raised his eyebrows at me. “Are you high?” he asked.

  “What?” I laughed.

  “I would ask if you’re drunk, but you’re still a dick when you drink, so you have to have smoked something if you’re asking about the wedding without someone holding a gun to your head.”

  “You’re a fucking clown,” I retorted. “You fight with me to accept this shit, and then when I do, you give me a hard time. I’ll remember this shit. My best-man speech is still coming up.”

  Carter laughed and elbowed me playfully. “It’s good to see you like this. You’ve been in a bad mood this week.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe I just needed to get laid.”

  Carter nodded. “Maybe. But one day you’ll meet the one you want to settle down with.”

  I snorted. “Do I look like the type? No, bro. Settling down is for pussies.”

  Carter laughed and punched me on the shoulder. “You’re full of shit.”

  I was glad the conversation had moved away from my night, but when Carter had mentioned finding someone to settle down with, I’d thought about Callie. What the fuck was wrong with me? I didn’t settle down. I was sure Callie would make a wonderful wife, but that kind of commitment wasn’t for me. Although, if I had to choose someone to do all of that with, it would be someone like Callie.

  I would never mention that to anyone. My list of things I would never mention was growing. I wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing.

  “So, plan,” I encouraged. “Let’s get this day over and done with.”

  “That sounds more like you. We’re doing a venue walk tonight to work out logistics. Other than that, we get the day. Abigail is spending time with her family because Callie is busy with other clients.”

  I thought about her excuse that she had a meeting she’d spaced on. Maybe she’d been telling the truth.

  “When are we leaving for Vegas?” Carter asked.

  “Friday night,” I said. “The flight is at six.”

  Carter nodded. “Thanks for this, man. This is starting to feel real.”

  I shrugged. Carter was excited about Vegas even though he had been against the idea at first. It had to be this Friday. Abigail had begged us to do it early enough that if something went wrong, there was still time to do damage control. I didn’t like it. A bachelor party was supposed to be the night before the wedding, but I’d had to strike a compromise with her if I had wanted it to happen at all. The upside was that I had been able to book a room at the Bellagio. We were sparing no costs.

  It would be a night Carter would never forget.

  Chapter 19

  Callie

  When I arrived at the office, I was sick to my stomach. Grayson’s sister, Carter’s wife, mulled in my mind, and the more I thought about it, the more horrible I felt. No one deserved to go through something as terrible as losing a loved one, a sister, a wife.

  Why was the universe so cruel? Why did some get to live, to receive do-overs and second chances, and others died?

  I scrubbed my face with my hands, ran my fingers through my hair, checked if my make-up was smudged in the rearview mirror and practiced my smile before I climbed out of the car and headed into the office. I had to face Isaiah, and I had to put on a believable act for him. He was the hardest to convince that I was all right when I was everything but.

  “Morning,” I said brightly when I walked into the office and made a beeline for my desk.

  “What’s wrong?” Isaiah asked.

  So much for looking normal.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Why?” I stood with my back to Isaiah, going through the client file for my meeting later. I had told Grayson I’d forgotten about a meeting. I hadn’t forgotten, of course, but the meeting was real. Only a partial lie, then. I had needed to get away from him and the sorry that hung around him like a cloud so badly.

  “You look like shit,” Isaiah said matter-of-factly. “And you’re refusing to look at me.”

  I plastered on my most neutral looking face and turned around.

  “Maybe the pressure’s getting to me,” I said. “I’m juggling all my clients and trying to get Abigail’s wedding done in the shortest time.”

  Isaiah folded his arms. “I heard you, but pressure hasn’t been an issue before. What’s going on?”

  There was no way I would be able to explain to Isaiah what I was feeling. And I couldn’t tell him what Grayson had told me anyway. It was a confidential thing. Grayson wasn’t a client who fell under my confidentiality clause, but what he’d told me wasn’t something I imagined him wanting to broadcast to the world. He’d seemed too vulnerable for that. For someone as macho and masculine as Grayson to look vulnerable was a big deal.

  “Do we have the seating chart for the couple I’m meeting with?” I asked, changing the topic. I was better at handling someone else’s chaos than my own.

  “She emailed it through last night. It’s such a fuss.”

  “It’s hard to seat everyone when half the family doesn’t get along.”

  Isaiah shrugged, and I knew by how he looked at me that he was uninterested in discussing the couple I was meeting with later. He wanted to know what was going on with me. He wasn’t going to find out. I told Isaiah almost everything, but even I was allowed to keep secrets so I would push through and insist on that right. I had to get through the day, and that would be my main focus. I had to meet with the couple now, and later, Abigail and Carter were going to walk through the venue again.

  Grayson would be there, too, naturally.

  How was I going to face them after what I’d found out? How was I going to act normal around Grayson after what we’d done? God, how the hell was I going to get through the night?

  The couple arrived a half an hour late, and it looked like they had argued in the car on the way to my office.

  “Sorry we’re late,” the bride said, looking as apologetic as she sounded. The groom looked around my office, refusing to make eye contact.

  “Not a problem,” I said, thinking I would bill them for their time. “Please, sit down.”

  They sat down in the armchairs, and I noticed their body language. The groom lounged in the chair, splayed out like he was in front of a football game at home. The bride sat on the edge of her chair, arms folded in her lap. They were both slightly turned away from each other. There was nothing loving about them. They were as close to their wedding as Carter and Abigail were to theirs, but these two seemed at war.

  I was glad Carter and Abigail had found each other. In my industry, I was able to tell if couples would make it through or not. It wasn’t that I tried to dictate their fates, but some couples purely didn’t work, and they were pushing for something that should have stayed as it had been. I felt this couple was heading in that direction. They were asking for something neither of them really
wanted. Why get married, then? Why go through the effort of arranging a wedding and getting everyone to celebrate a day that wasn’t as happy as it should be?

  I discussed the final details with them. The bride answered everything. The groom was silent and barely looked at me. By the time we were done, I was emotionally drained. Sometimes, a couple took everything out of me. Their energy was heavy, and I couldn’t seem to connect with them or them with each other. When they walked out the door, I sighed.

  “This is a disaster,” I said to Isaiah.

  “When are they getting married?”

  “This weekend. I don’t think they’re ready.”

  “It’s going to be a tough one to coordinate,” Isaiah agreed. When the couple was like this, the wedding and the reception often went wrong. It was as if the universe tried to throw signs at them left, right and center. We always had our hands full with a couple who didn’t look like they belonged together, and then I hated my job. I was in the business of happily ever after, and when I saw a relationship that wouldn’t make it past year three, it made me feel like my job was in vain, and it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

  At least I knew Abigail and Carter would be happy, no matter how tragic Carter’s past was.

  I buried myself in paperwork for the rest of the day. When it was time to go to the venue, my head hurt and my throat was scratchy.

  “You can’t afford to come down with something,” Isaiah said when I complained about my headache.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. I knew my supposed pending illness was a direct result of the panic and stress I felt. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Have fun venue walking,” Isaiah said. I wished I could look forward to it.

  I met Abigail and Carter outside the venue. Grayson was there, too, of course. He looked neat and put together, calm and collected. Nothing like the emotional mess he had been last night and nothing like the open, vulnerable person who had sat at my kitchen counter this morning. Maybe he’d had a chance to vent his feelings and, for the first time, he felt all right.