by Nikki Vale
Jamie was actually friends with Evelynn first, but once we were introduced, we became fast friends. He’s very handsome and looks a lot like Evie’s fiancé, Hunter. They’re both tall and fit, although I have to admit Hunter is a lot more muscular, where Jamie is lean and toned. They both have blonde hair and dimples, but Jamie’s has soft brown eyes where Hunter has gray.
“Why couldn’t you be mine?” I sigh against his chest.
“We’ve been over this Megan. With your domineering and abrasive personality I’ve almost been tempted, but for all that, you still don’t have the right equipment,” he teases me.
“I told you I’d be willing to strap one on for you.” Jamie shivers in mock disgust.
“Thank hon. I love you too, but I’m going to have to stick with the real thing,” he says, absently running his hand over my hair. If anyone could make me believe in the romantic kind of love, it would be Jamie.
“Why do all the good men have to be gay?” I pout.
“Trust me. There are plenty of shitty gay guys out there too. I just happen to be the cream of the crop.”
“Conceited much?” I reply, smacking him playfully on the chest.
“Look who’s calling the kettle black,” he responds. “We’re both pretty awesome. One day we’ll find our Mr. Rights.”
“You know I don’t believe in that crap,” I remind him, getting up from my seat. I make my way to the kitchen looking for a bottle opener.
“Yeah, I know. But I’m hoping for your sake that one day some guy will come along and change your entire way of thinking.”
“Well, don’t hold your breath. Speaking of men. How’s is going with Sam?” I inquire. Having found the corkscrew, I open the bottle of wine and pour three glasses.
“It’s not,” he says, looking sad. “Sam felt like things were getting too serious. Said he needed his space. You know the typical, it’s-not-you-it’s-me bullshit. Maybe you’ve got the right idea. If I weren't always looking for love, I’d be less likely to get my heart broken.”
“No, Jamie. Don’t let Megan talk you into the love-doesn’t-exist bandwagon,” Gina pleads as she walks into the room in her night shirt, towel drying her hair. Handing her a glass of wine, I turn, give the other one to Jamie, and then head back to the kitchen to get mine.
“You’ve got it all wrong you two,” I say, taking a sip of the sweet red wine. “I’m happy for anyone who finds that perfect someone. I’ve personally never seen a love that lasts forever, and I’m not under the delusion that I’ll be the type of person to find it. I believe in familial love. I love you guys, never doubt that. But the romantic kind of love seems like hogwash.”
“Why?” Gina challenges.
“Life gets in the way. Attraction dims when looks start to fade. As your friend, I don’t have to find you attractive, and if we get in a fight or have a disagreement we can take a break from one another and come back later and talk it out. When you’re married, those same rules don’t apply. Sex makes up a big part of a romantic relationship, and if one or the both of you let yourselves go, the attraction might start to go with it. It’s got to be hard to have sex with, let alone stay in love with, someone you no longer find attractive. Let’s not forget about the disagreements. You can’t up and leave the house for days until you calm down enough to talk. Nope. You’ve got to live with the person who has pissed you off, day in and day out until you talk about it, or it explodes into a heated argument.” I pace back in forth in front of them as they watch me from the comfort of the couch.
“No one said loving someone wouldn’t be hard,” Jamie interjects. “But it can be totally worth it.”
“How do you know? Have you found this all-consuming love?” I demand. I’m angry, and I don’t know why. I just hate it when people try to figure me out. Demanding to know why I don’t buy in the happily-ever-after bullshit like something’s wrong with me.
“No, I haven’t. But I want to, and I’m leaving myself open to finding it,” Jamie quietly comments. “Come here,” he says patting the seat next to him. I grudgingly sit down and let him put a comforting arm around me. Jamie loops his other arm around Gina and hugs us both.
“Gina and Evie both found their Prince Charming. I’m not giving up hope that you and I will find ours too,” he remarks, placing a kiss on the top of my head. “But for now, like you, I’ll settle for this kind of love.”
**********
The tantalizing aroma of bacon and coffee arouses me from a peaceful sleep. My clothes feel restrictive as I raise my arms up over my head to stretch.
Wait a minute.
Why am I wearing clothes, and what the hell is that poking me in the ass? Looking over my shoulder I see Jamie sleeping with a half-smile on his face. He’s not exactly snuggled up against me – well part of him is. I laugh to myself as I scoot away from him and climb out of the bed. I wonder how mortified he’d be to find out he’s been pressing his morning wood against me in his sleep.
Generally, I sleep in the nude. Now I know why I’m wearing a t-shirt and panties.
I recall Gina heading to bed after one glass of wine, but Jamie and I polished off the rest of the bottle and another one to boot. This isn’t the first time any of us has gotten tipsy and shared a bed, but this is definitely the first time I’ve woken up to Jamie grinding against me in his sleep.
I stumble into my master bath to brush my teeth before heading to the kitchen where I know Gina will be busy whipping up a delicious breakfast. You really couldn’t ask for a better roommate than Gina Santos. She cooks, she’s extremely tidy, and she’s very respectful of other people’s privacy.
Maybe I could convince her to stay with me forever.
“Mmm, what’s cooking beautiful?” I ask, rounding the corner. I stop short when I see a tall frame topped by broad shoulders standing in front of my stove, humming, while making French toast.
“You’re not so bad yourself. Although I have to admit, I prefer yesterday’s sleepwear, or lack thereof, over those pj’s,” Trevor comments with a cocky grin.
“What are you doing? And how the hell did you get in here?” I demand.
“Gina let me in, but then she left to go check on the construction at her bakery. She told me that she typically cooks breakfast for you guys, and I told her I would do it. So here I am, cooking your breakfast.” Trevor clicks off the burner and walks up to me. I can’t help but to tilt my head back to look up at him, he’s so damn close. He reaches out a hand, cups my cheek and places a tender, sweet kiss on my lips.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, stepping away from me. I can barely register what he just said I’m so stunned by his kiss. It was so unexpected, yet innocently delicious. Touching my lips, I look at him in confusion. That was our first kiss, but he acted like he’d done it a million times before. Like it was second nature to him – as if I was his girl. Shaking that thought from my head, I follow him into the kitchen.
“I’m starving. Thanks for asking,” Jamie says from my bedroom doorway. He’s leaning against the frame, wearing just his boxer-briefs.
“Come join us. I made plenty,” Trevor responds, not batting an eye at a half-naked Jamie sauntering out of my bedroom.
“Where’s the bacon? I know I smelled bacon,” I say looking around in earnest.
“Just take a seat. I’ll fix you both a plate. You still a vegetarian, Jamie?” Trevor asks as Jamie and I take a seat at the small kitchen table.
“Yep. I can’t believe you remember that,” Jamie replies, impressed.
“Come on. You’ve been Evie’s best friend since high school. I’ve had to hear about you non-stop for years,” Trevor explains. He hands Jamie a plate of French toast and me one with French toast and a pile of bacon. Then he grabs a cup of coffee for himself and joins us.
“What, you’re not going to eat any? This is delicious by the way,” I compliment with a mouth full of French toast, syrup dribbling out of the corner of my mouth.
“Nah, I already ate with Granny Mabel th
is morning,” Trevor divulges before taking a sip of his coffee.
“So what brings you here at the crack of dawn?” Jamie asks.
“Just had a few things to discuss with Megan,” Trevor replies, giving me a meaningful look. Ah, yes. The bet. Jamie must have caught the exchange because he gives me a knowing smile and quickly wolfs down the rest of his food.
“Thanks, Trevor, the food was great. I’ve got to get going, so I’ll just get dressed and be on my way.”
Jamie rushes back into my room to change, not giving me the chance to protest. Not that I would. I’m curious to see what Trevor has to say.
A few minutes later Jamie steps out of my room dressed in the clothes he wore yesterday.
“You really need to keep a change of clothes here,” I tease him.
“I know, right? Thanks again Trevor. See you guys later,” Jamie pulls me in for a hug. “If you were ever planning on falling, you could do a hell of a lot worse.” He whispers in my ear, before pulling away and giving Trevor a side-hug.
“Catch you later Jamie,” Trevor says, closing the door behind him.
“So what’s this all about?” I ask as soon as the door closes.
Walking up to Trevor I place my hands on his chest, feeling his muscles beneath his shirt. I’m pretty sure he came here to show me just how well he can handle me. He surprises me when he captures both of my hands in one of his, holding them still against his chest.
“Uh uh, baby girl. That’s not how this is going to go down,” he says, releasing my hands and walking away from me towards the couch.
He sits down and silently pats the seat next to him. Totally against my nature, I quietly oblige. My curiosity is overriding my need to rebel. Taking a seat, I turn and look at him in expectation.
“Look, I know you’re used to running the show, but that’s not how this is going to work. You challenged me, and I accept. But it will be when I’m ready and not a moment sooner.”
“Fine,” I readily agree. Whether we fuck now or later, he’s still going to lose. Trevor looks surprised at my quick acceptance. “I only have one condition.”
“Shoot,” he says as if he expected me to have some stipulations.
“No strings attached,” I tell him. The look on his face is comical. I know that’s not what he was expecting me to say. “I’m sure, as a man you’re thinking ‘hell yeah, no-strings-attached, I wasn’t going to get attached anyway.' But you’d be surprised how many guys say that and then get their feelings hurt when they start to fall for me and learn that I meant it when I said I don’t do relationships.
“No worries,” he replies nonchalantly.
Trevor stands up from the couch and puts his hand out to me. I tentatively put my hand in his, and he quickly pulls me up from the sofa, into his strong arms. Before I can blink, his full lips are pressed against mine, gently kissing me. One hand wraps around my waist as the other finds its way into my hair. He nips and kisses my lips as the hand in my hair massages my scalp. I’ve never felt anything this sensuous in my life. Moaning into his mouth, I relax and close my eyes, leaning into him, only to have him break the kiss.
“Sealed with a kiss,” he says, looking into my eyes as slowly I open them. Then he drops his hands from me, leaving me feeling bereft as he walks to the door.
“See you later gorgeous.”
I stand there glued to the spot as he lets himself out of my apartment. Trevor has declared war, and he’s come in with guns blazing.
Holy hell.
This is going to be fun.
Chapter Six
Trevor
“Where’ve you been sneaking off to so early in the morning, young man?” Granny Mabel asks as soon as I walk into the house.
“Just had to take care of something real quick,” I say, hanging up my jacket on the coat rack next to the front door.
“How come you never bring any girls home with you when you come to visit,” she says, quickly turning the conversation. “Are you gay?”
Laughing, I look at Granny Mabel standing in the living room wearing her favorite floral housecoat, fuzzy socks and curlers in her steel gray hair. My granny is in her seventies, but with her smooth dark cholate skin and sharp dark brown eyes, she could pass for mid-fifties.
“No, I’m not gay,” I answer.
“You sure? I wouldn’t care if you were. I’d love you just the same. As a matter of fact, I think Jamie is available. I’ve always loved Jamie,” Granny rambles as she heads into the kitchen ignoring my protests to the contrary as I follow behind her.
“What about Megan?”
The question flies out of my mouth before I have the chance to stop it. Granny pauses in her search of something inside the refrigerator and turns to me.
“Boy, you couldn’t handle Megan,” she chortles. “That girl reminds me of myself when I was younger. A little spitfire that could have all the men wrapped around her little finger within seconds,” Granny smiles to herself, then ducks her head back into the refrigerator. “Yeah, you stay away from Megan, lessen you wanna get burned.”
Wow.
Did my own Granny just punk me? This is getting ridiculous.
“What do you know about her?” I press. I could definitely learn more from Evie than I can from Granny, but Evie will wonder why I’m asking, and Granny doesn’t seem to be too concerned about my line of questioning – for the time being.
Grabbing a bowl of green apples, she places them on the table, grabs her peeler and starts absently peeling the apples.
“Well, I know that she was raised by a single mother. She’s never met her father. Her mother was a topless dancer when she was younger, and Megan grew up around that type. She even went to work with her mother sometimes. If I’m not mistaken, Megan even worked there while she was in college. Not as a dancer, mind you, but as a waitress and a bartender. She swears she never did any stripping, and I believe her, not that I’d think any less of her if she did. I understand what it’s like to struggle. Anyway, Megan did well in school, got a partial academic scholarship and went to college. That’s where she and Evie met Gina.”
“Where did Evie meet Megan? I thought she met her in college around the time she met Gina,” I ask in confusion.
“No, no. Megan and Evie met in the hospital when she was fifteen. Evie was getting ready to leave the hospital after visiting me when I had that mild heart attack.”
“Yeah, I remember that year,” I reply quietly. Granny Mabel ignores my sad tone and continues with her story.
“Well, Megan was there with her mother, who had been injured in an altercation with her current boyfriend,” Granny tells me.
“Megan’s mother had been beaten up by her boyfriend?” I ask in surprise.
“Ha! Not likely. She was getting her hand stitched up after clocking the guy. I take it you’ve never met Brooklynn Kane,” Granny says, shaking her head. “Megan takes after her mother. Neither one of them puts up with any man’s bullshit.”
Most people would be shocked hearing profanity from such a sweet looking old lady. But Evie and I grew up hearing our Granny say much worse than that. At times, she would curse like a sailor. She’s toned it down a bit in her older age.
“Anyway, they bumped into each other at the soda machine or some such nonsense like that, and became fast friends. They didn’t go to the same High School, but they would hang out on weekends. Megan was never around our house when you came home on leave, but I’m sure Evie talked about her.”
“Wait a minute! Is Megan the girl Evie always referred to as Candy?”
“Yeah, come to think of it. That’s right. They met at the candy machine, not a soda machine. Evie bought Megan some candy because she was short on change. It wasn’t until later that Evie found out Megan’s last name was Kane, and seeing as how candy was how they first met, she started calling her Candy Kane.”
Makes sense, I guess. I feel stupid not putting two and two together sooner. If I took time and thought about all the things Evie has sa
id about ‘Candy’ over the years, I just might know more about Megan than I thought I did.
Honestly, I think Evie’s the reason Megan went to UC Berkley.” Granny continues. “Don’t get me wrong, Megan was going to college regardless, but she wanted to be close to Evie. It actually made me feel a little better knowing that Megan would be there to keep an eye on Evie around all those horny college boys. Evie’s no push over, but Megan’s got an edge that our Evie lacks.
Finished with her story, Granny places her peeled, cored, and sliced apples, into a pie crust, sprinkles white and brown sugar on top, along with other spices and chunks of butter, and places it into the oven. I don’t know why she feels the need to stuff me full of goodies every time I come to visit. Damn if I can’t turn them down either.
And on that note…
“Granny, I’m going to change clothes and go for a run,” I advise her before leaning over and placing a kiss on her soft cheek. Jogging up the stairs I head up to my old room located next to Evie’s, and quickly change my clothes.
Exercise is my escape.
Some people take relaxing baths. Others read. Me, I run. The military forced this discipline on me to keep me physically fit, but somewhere along the way I came to love it. If only the military could succeed in disciplining me in regards to sugary sweets, and women.
Walking out the front door, I take a few deep cleansing breaths and begin stretching on the wooden front porch of Granny’s old 1920’s style home. Taking in the sight of familiar surroundings brings back a feeling of sweet nostalgia of my childhood.
Hopping off the front porch, I begin a slow jog out of the quiet neighborhood. It always has been peaceful around here, except kids playing in the streets on the weekends and after school during the weekdays. This street is where Evie and I first met Hunter Douglas over ten years ago. He and I became best friends almost immediately. Hunter fell in love with Evie almost just as quickly. Now here they are, all grown up and about to be married. It’s a beautiful thing.