Innuendos (It Had 2 B U Book 1)

by V. Kelly

  “Well, yeah. Look at him!” Travis shouts. “His muscles could eat my muscles for breakfast.”

  Max looks down at his chest and beams brightly.

  “He’s a personal trainer. Of course he’s fit,” I say in Max’s defense.

  Max smiles even more.

  “He’s a guy, Bree. You’re living with a guy. That’s not normal unless he’s gay.” He turns to Max. “Are you gay?”

  “Hell no, I’m not gay,” Max answers.

  “He’s not gay, Bree. It’s not normal for a woman who looks like you to live with a guy that looks like him and not have any hanky panky going on behind closed doors.

  “Oh there’s hanky panky, alright. Just never with her,” Max replies smugly. “Breezy calls my room the bordello of barflies.”

  Travis shoots me a pained look. I guess learning that my roommate is not only hot, but also a womanizer, doesn’t help my case.

  “Well, it is,” I whisper.

  “Bree, I know I said that I would be able to handle meeting your roommate, but this,” he motions to Max’s torso, “is too much.”

  “Yeah, I definitely have a lot of abs. I think I counted at least an eight pack yesterday.”

  Travis’s mouth drops. “He has an eight pack?” Travis lifts up his shirt showing off his no pack. “I’m completely inadequate here.”

  “You’re perfect!” I blurt out. “Please, Travis, give me a chance to prove to you that living with Max isn’t a big deal. I’ve done it for the last three years. I’ve spent ten years of my life being his best friend. We haven’t kissed, we haven’t had sex, and we haven’t done anything that would even remotely lead to a relationship.

  “Do you flirt?” Travis asks.

  “Yes, sometimes,” I answer honestly.

  “Then obviously you’re doing something that will lead to a relationship. Men and women don’t flirt unless they are interested in each other.”

  “Not true,” Max pipes in. “I flirt with Breezy all the time, and she only does it back because it’s our thing. She doesn’t like me like that, man. Never has and never will.”

  “Do you want her? Are you secretly in love with my girlfriend?”

  Max shoots me a nervous glance. I barely catch it, but the brief look of panic that crosses his face is quite interesting.

  “Dude, I think you’re reacting a little harshly. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “So, you’re telling me that if you were dating a hot woman like Bree for five months, you’ve invested your time, you’ve exchanged I love you’s with her . . .”

  “You’ve said I love you to him?” Max looks at me with hurt in his eyes.

  “Yes, I have.” I turn to Travis. “I do love you, Travis, with all my heart and soul.”

  “Bree, I love you, too, but I really need to think this through. Falling in love with you has been incredibly easy, but knowing you blatantly lied to me really hurts. I need some time to figure this all out.”

  “Are you breaking up with me?” Crap. Tears are already threatening my eyes. Travis looks a little wounded by my tears.

  “If you want to call it that, then yes. I need some space.”

  “Dude, don’t break her heart. She said she loves you. That’s huge,” Max interrupts. “Don’t leave her like this, not over me.”

  “Are you willing to find somewhere else to live?” Travis asks him smugly.

  Max looks taken aback. “Fuck no, just because you don’t have the balls to be with a girl who has a male roommate, doesn’t mean I’m going to move out just because you want me to.”

  “Then it looks like we’re done here,” Travis states sadly. “I’m sorry, Bree. I like you. I really do. But I told you before that there’s nothing I hate more than a liar, and frankly you’ve been lying this whole time.”

  He walks to my door. Each step he takes breaks my heart more and more. “Travis, wait!” I rush to him. “Please, can’t we work this out?” I take his hand. Tears are streaming down my face. I’m overwhelmed with emotions. I don’t want to lose another boyfriend because of who I live with.

  “Give me some time, Bree. Maybe . . . With that he drops my hand, opens my door, and storms out, slamming the door behind him.

  I crumple to the ground. Never in my life have I felt this much devastation over a break-up. I fell in love with Travis—I fell hard, and now that he’s left me, it’s like I’ve shattered into a million tiny pieces—like Humpty Dumpty, only prettier.

  Max comes up behind me and tries to console me by wrapping me in a hug. This is all his fault! If it wasn’t for Max always coming between me and my relationships, Travis would still be here.

  I push him away and glare at him. “This is your fault!” I shout at him.

  “My fault?”

  “If you weren’t so damn good looking, guys wouldn’t be threatened by you. Did you have to come out of the bathroom looking like this? Look at what happened? The moment you step out looking all hot and steamy, my boyfriend breaks up with me, just like all the rest. Do you get some sick pleasure out of seeing me unhappy? Is my love life just some big game to you?”

  “Of course not, Breezy, I care about you. I hate seeing you hurt like this.” He reaches out to hug me; I move a step back.

  “Don’t touch me, Max. I’m mad at you. Whether you’re doing this on purpose, or not, you’re still ruining everything for me. I’m tired of it. I hate the fact that you seem to be happy with your revolving door of pussy but at the same time enjoy ruining every relationship I have. You’re supposed to be my best friend, Max.”

  “I am your best friend, Breezy. How can you say that I am not?”

  “If you were my best friend, you wouldn’t be constantly trying to ruin my relationships. What’s your problem anyway? Why do you constantly feel the need to sabotage my relationships?”

  Max studies me carefully. He knows I’m pissed right now. “I don’t, Breezy. You should know that. All I want is for you to be happy.”

  “Well, good job, Max. You’ve officially made me feel the worst I’ve ever felt in my life. I hope you’re happy.”

  I spin away from him and stomp all the way to my room. I know I’m being a little childish, but when your fifth boyfriend in the last three years dumps you because you live with another man, I think being pissed off and childish is warranted. Once I get to my room, I slam my door and lock it, sinking to the floor while I sob.

  Max knocks on my door, but I ignore him.

  “Breezy, let me in.”

  Another knock.

  “Come on, you know I can’t sit here and let you cry like this. Let me in so I can make you feel better. I know you want a hug.” I hear him settle against the door. His breathing is erratic on the other side. I know what I said to him must’ve hurt, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that he’s been using my love life as a dart board for the last three years.

  I can hear his back slide down the wood, and I know he’s sitting exactly like I am right now.

  “Breezy, please come talk to me. I don’t want you to cry alone. That guy doesn’t deserve you if he can’t see how amazing you are. Being with you is worth fighting for. If he doesn’t understand that, then he isn’t worth your time or tears.

  I feel something touch my butt, and I see his fingers wiggling underneath the door frame. My first initial reaction is to get up and walk over to my bed, but like always, I give in and brush my fingers against his. The space underneath my door is big enough that we can intertwine our fingers, and I hate how comforting his touch is for me. Some of the pain starts to fade. He squeezes my fingers, and I squeeze him back. Like always, my crutch is there for me to lean on—even if there is wood separating us for the moment.

  “Breezy, I hope you know that I care about you. Please don’t think I do any of this intentionally to hurt you. You’re my favorite person in the whole world. Without your smiling face, I would be lost. Knowing that you’re hurting right now is killing me. I wasn’t trying to push Travis away. If anything, I was
overly nice to him. Please say something, Breezy. I can’t stand the thought of you being mad at me for even a minute.

  I take a deep breath. I know Max isn’t trying to hurt me, but it all seems so coincidental how he’s always the catalyst that blows up my relationships. I squeeze his fingers one more time and whisper, “I care about you, too,” I release his hand and get up from the floor. I know he wants me to open the door, but right now he’s just going to have to settle for a finger squeeze and a whisper. I make my way over to the bed and pick up my cell phone. I’m wishing for a message from Travis—a message I know won’t be there.

  In a final act of desperation, I look for his phone number. Before I can stop myself, I’m sending the most idiotic text of my life. I know it won’t solve anything, but I need Travis to know how I feel.

  Bree: Despite everything that just happened. I want you to know that I really do love you.

  I don’t expect a text back from him, so it surprises me when my phone immediately makes the sound of a Zelda treasure chest being opened.

  Travis: Give me some time. I love you too.

  And that was that. Travis wanted time, and frankly who could blame him. He wasn’t even prepared for Max. Maybe if I told him earlier on in the relationship there could’ve been some prepping involved. Instead, he was blindsided by my little white lie, and because of it, I’ve lost him. I guess it’s not really Max’s fault after all. It’s mine.

  Chapter Ten

  Max

  She’s mad at me.

  She loves him.

  I hate that she’s a crying mess on the other side of that door. Right now she’s keeping me out, and there isn’t a single thing I can do about those tears. That asshole doesn’t even know what he’s losing here. He seemed nice enough and quite funny like Breezy described him, but the man has absolutely no balls. I’m sorry, but if Breezy was my woman, and she was living with a man that looks like me, I would be doing everything in my power to solidify the fact that she’s mine. I would possess her to the point of smothering. I would make sure that every night that we were in bed together, she felt loved and wanted. No other woman comes close to Breezy in my eyes, and the fact that he can just walk away from her without even thinking twice, kills me.

  I have to do something to make her feel better. I know Breezy well enough that sitting by this door, hoping she will squeeze my fingers again, is a waste of time. I’ve been Breezy’s best friend for ten years. She’s never been this devastated by a break up before. As much as it pains me to admit it, I think she really does love this one. I guess it’s time to cash in my man card and take one for the team.

  An hour later I have everything set. Operation: Make Breezy Feel Better is in full swing. I’ve only had to do this once before, but I know it’s a slam dunk on putting her in a great mood when she’s sad. First thing was a grocery store run where I bought: two pints of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, six bags of king-sized M &M’s, a box of microwavable popcorn, that new chick flick comedy movie with that one girl who makes people laugh, a case of Dr. Pepper, and to top everything off, a can of whip cream.

  When I get home, I make sure that everything is put on the coffee table. Then it’s time to unleash my secret weapon. I grab the remote for the sound system, put in our CD labeled the Max and Breezy project 2014, and crank up her favorite song full blast. Here’s a little fact about my best friend; she loves 90’s pop stars. If you put on NSYNC or the Backstreet Boys, maybe a little Genie in the Bottle, that girl can’t help dancing like a crazy person. This CD is full of their songs, but there is one song that she can’t resist—one song that I know will coax her out of that room, and that’s Barbie Girl by Aqua. The minute the song starts playing, I grin. It will only take a few minutes before her door swings open. I count it down in my head. Ten . . . nine . . . any second now . . . seven . . . six, on count five her door bangs open. Breezy is standing in the doorway, her eyes glistening with tears, a frown slowly edging into a smile on her face.

  “This is so not fair,” she shouts over the music. “I’m supposed to be mad at you. Start it over damn it!”

  I oblige and make the song start again. “Hi Breezy,” I say like the dude in the song.

  “Hi, Max,” she says in her best Barbie voice.

  “Wanna go for a ride?” I ask, still matching the song perfectly.

  “Sure, Max,” she says grinning.

  “Jump in,” I shout.

  The minute Barbie Girl starts playing, she’s jumping around like a crazy person. She’s changed into a pair of sweat pants with the word star written on the butt, and a black tank top with no bra. It’s a marvelous sight. Her star butt is twerking across the living room. Her boobs are bouncing like crazy. I can’t divert my gaze to anywhere but her bouncing assets. God damn it, why does she have to be so fucking beautiful all the time? I have an insta-hard on, and talking him down is not going to be easy, especially when her twerking butt saddles up into my front. We’ve done this numerous times before: The make-shift dirty dancing in the middle of the living room to a campy pop song that by all rights should be burned and outlawed in my presence. I do what I have to, to make my best friend happy. If dancing like a fool to a stupid pop song is how my Saturday night is going to play out, then by god, I’m doing just that if it brings a smile to her face.

  When the song ends, we’re both laughing. Obviously, she didn’t notice my erection, which is a good thing because I’ve got blue balls so bad they’re fucking purple.

  “You don’t play fair,” she mumbles when I pause the CD. She looks over at the table, sees my display of goodies, and grins. “Cookie dough ice cream! Max, you must really love me.” She races over to the table and grabs the pint of ice cream and a spoon. “What are you waiting for? Are you going to pop the popcorn and mix in the M & M’s or not?”

  I grin like an idiot and make my way over to the microwave. “One giant bowl of popcorn mixed with M & M’s coming up.”

  When I’m all done, I settle onto the couch next to her. Eating her ice cream, she snuggles into my side. I barely register what’s going on in the movie, because having her near me like this is very distracting.

  My fingers automatically begin combing through her hair. Her hand is resting on my stomach, and she’s gently tracing my abs with her fingers. If that Travis dude were to walk through that door right now, he’d definitely think something is going on between us. Although everything I’m doing is innocent, cuddling on the couch is the most intimate I get with Breezy.

  It takes all my strength and willpower to resist pulling her on top of me. I want to feel her lips and use my own to map out every inch of her skin. If only she knew how important she is to me—that I love her more than a friend; that I wish she felt the same—maybe she wouldn’t have a broken heart right now.

  “Max,” she whispers. I can see that she’s getting sleepy. Her eyes barely open as she tries to finish out the movie.

  “Yea, Breezy?”

  “Thank you for being my best friend.”

  She yawns and I kiss the top of her head.

  “No, Breezy, thank you for being mine.”

  A few minutes later she’s asleep. I’m not sure if I should disturb her, so I get up from the couch, put away the ice cream, turn off the DVD player, and snuggle back into the corner of the couch. Carefully, I edge her body between my legs where she nestles into my chest. Her hand automatically goes straight for my abs again. She sighs contently against me, and as the big clock on wall starts ticking loudly because of the silence in the room, I fall asleep with the girl of my dreams in my arms.

  A guy could get used to this.

  When I wake up the next morning, I realize that Breezy is giggling against me. Blinking away the sleep in my eyes, I open them to find her smiling up at me with an almost maniacal look on her face.

  “What?” I ask a little confused.

  “Is that an anaconda in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?” She asks in a Groucho Marx type of voice.
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  I look down and sure as shit, my shorts have a very large bump sticking up right into her stomach. Mortified, I reach down and adjust myself. Stupid penis, he really needs to stop being such a perve.

  Breezy is laughing like crazy. “Poor Max, did Little Max miss his barfly pussy last night?”

  I shake my head and push her off me. “No, I think Little Max has a crush on your boobs. If you were any lower, he was going to use your boobs as buns and pretend to be a hotdog.”

  “Nice try, Mr. Smooth, but if you’re looking to make a boobdog, you’re going to have to find another girl.”

  “Shucks, and here I thought my wooing capabilities were working.”

  “I’m immune to your woo. Don’t forget; I know what goes on behind that door over there.” She motions to my bedroom and smiles. “Despite your penis frisking my stomach, I have to say, last night was one of the best nights ever. Thanks for making me feel better, Max.”

  “Are you still mad at me?”

  “No, it’s not your fault. I was just angry and needed someone to take it out on.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, Travis is stupid. I’m sure in a couple weeks, he will wake up, realize exactly what he lost, and come running back to you. He’d be a fool not to.”

  “You really think so?” She asks.

  “I know so, Breezy. Now, what should we have for breakfast?”

  She looks up at me with a goofy grin. “Chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, of course!”

  “Of course,” I grin, “I’ll get the spoons.”

  By the time noon rolls around, were both still in the clothes we fell asleep in, and the entire living room looks like a preteen slumber party. We’re back on the couch and Breezy’s head is in my lap, her hand playing with mine that’s hanging over the back of the couch.

  “Max, why can’t all guys be as sweet as you?”

  “I’m one in a million. They don’t make them like me anymore. I broke the mold.”

  “That’s so cliché,” she groans.