by Ella Goode
Yeah, also the one who thinks every baby thing is cute including baby bats.
She’d sent a photo of an albino bat to our group chat and said she wanted one. I had one in my cart to be shipped from some site called exotic pets that sold everything from chinchillas to foxes before her just kidding follow-up text appeared on the screen.
Fine. I’m only eating them because I’m high tho. Not because I want to.
Don’t care what the reason is. Also you may want to text her. I guess she’s lonely. She said the phone worked both ways, whatever that means.
I think it means you’re supposed to text her.
Better if you just go over.
I shove the phone onto the center console and take off, the expensive engine roaring in the quiet neighborhood. I turn the music up high to drown out the thoughts of Davis pinning Chandler to the table and eating her out. The worst timeline.
Rocks spin up when I speed down the lane to the carport. I cut the engine, grab the Chandler-baked cookies, and go inside to find Mom. She’s sitting in her reading room, a pink and green English garden type thing with a profusion of stripes and flowers.
“Hey, Ma.”
She jumps and shoves something to the side. I narrow my eyes. What is she hiding from me? “What were you reading?”
She brushes a hand across her forehead. “Oh, nothing dear.” She gestures me forward. “What did you bring me?”
“Chandler made cookies.” I bring the container over and set it on the side table by the sofa. I lean forward and give her a kiss, meanwhile trying to angle my head to see what she’s stashed away. It looks like a letter or a card. “That better not be some plea from Frank.”
“Don’t call your father by his name, dear. It’s rude.”
“Oh Christ.” I can’t believe she still harps on the whole honor your father and mother thing.
“Don’t curse either.”
“Mom.” I drop into a cushioned seat opposite of her.
“I’m serious. You know I don’t like that.” She lifts the lid of the cookies and sniffs. “These smell amazing. Text Chandler and tell her thank you.”
She doesn’t need to ask me twice.
Phone working both ways here. Mom says thanks.
I love your mom
I pretend it says I love you even though I know it never will.
Chapter Four
Chandler
I stare at myself in the full-length mirror, wondering what Berkley sees when he looks at me. Does he find me attractive? Or does he only look at me as one of the guys? I know I look at him differently. It hit me out of nowhere during my junior year. Ever since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him as more than a friend.
I don’t do the boy thing, or at least I never wanted to do it before. I had a bad experience when I was a freshman. I’ve often wondered if how I am toward boys is because of that or because no one ever really piqued my interest. In middle school all the girls were boy crazy. I never experienced it.
Then the summer before my junior year I went down to stay with my grandparents for six weeks over summer break. I got back only days before classes started. I’d been busy getting ready for the new year and hadn’t seen Berkley since I’d gotten back.
That was until Davis knocked on my door the first day of school, telling me to get my ass moving. I’d opened the backdoor ready to give him attitude right back, but my eyes went straight to Berkley, who was standing on the sidewalk not paying any attention to me at all.
Thank God he was staring down at his phone and didn’t catch my reaction to him. I would have died of embarrassment. He was no longer the Berkley I’d known for so long. He was a man now. He not only bulked up, but I swear he grew another foot and he was already freaking tall. His face was different too. It had lost its boyishness. His features seemed to become more distinct; some might say intimidating with his eyes. I hadn’t been prepared for the reaction my body had to him.
A switch had flipped, and I had no idea how to handle it. He was suddenly the only thing I could see or focus on. He made me ache everywhere. I’d gone to school thinking maybe I was the one that had changed. That maybe I was a late bloomer and I was finally catching the boy crazy bug that everyone else had already been suffering with for years.
Yet, as my first day of school wore on, and I walked the halls, not one other person had done what Berkley did to me that morning and every morning since. I had chalked it up to me being nervous for the first day of school. But I knew it was more than that. It was something I wasn’t ready to admit because I didn’t have a grasp on it.
That was until he sat down next to me in the cafeteria at lunch, offering me some fries, and those feelings had come rushing back. So many of them that I had a hard time processing them. It had been more than attraction. He gave me a sense of security. I seemed to relax around him. That stands true to this day. I still have the urge to lean into him. To bury my face in his chest. To have his big arms wrapped around me, making me feel safe. That has never subsided.
If it had been anyone else in the world, I would have gone to Davis to talk about it. It felt awkward for some reason for me to talk to him about Berkley. I don’t know why. I tell Davis everything. He’s been my best friend for so long, and no one knows me better than him, but I could never get the words to come out of my mouth. So I suffered in silence, not telling a soul about the fire Berkley had started inside of me.
Now I think I’m starting to go insane trapped in this house all the time pretty much alone with only myself to entertain me. With my parents working nights, that means they sleep days. A lot of mornings I’ll get up early and make breakfast for when they get home. It should be dinner for them, but breakfast can really be anytime if you ask me.
Now all I do is think. Each day is exactly like the day before. Sometimes I regret that I wasn’t more social before. Not that I need anyone, but it would be nice to have someone to text with or call sometimes that isn’t Davis.
He is the worst on the phone. He often forgets he’s even on it and somehow loses it. He’s lucky he’s good looking.
Then we have Berkley. I finally pulled his number out of him. I’m in a group message with him and Davis. I always talk in there trying to get him to say something. I’ve given up, not understanding why he’d be in a group chat if he wasn’t going to participate. I huff, dropping down onto my bed.
I almost let out a scream last night when I saw his name pop up on my phone. The text was really from his mom. He might have sent it, but it was only because she wanted to thank me for the cookies. I responded and waited, but nothing else came so I tried again. I typed out a message telling him it was nice hanging out. The only response I received was, yep. That only frustrated me more. Trying to get him to open up is like pulling teeth.
I should get over it, but now all I can think about is why Berkley doesn’t see me as something more. I know he doesn’t really care for people, but he’s nice to me and good with Davis. Why is it that the one and only guy I’ve ever been interested in won’t give me the time of day? I sigh, knowing that I’ve asked myself this question every day since junior year. Yet I’m still in the same spot I was in then.
What if I’m not being bold enough? I worry my lip between my teeth, trying to think of a reason for him to come back here. Then it hits me.
I go over to my desktop, pulling it out from the wall so that I can reach the cords in the back. I pull a few out that connect my computer. Now I can call him for help. I smile at my brilliant idea. That is, until I lose my hold on it causing it to hit the ground with a loud thunk. Oh God.
I think I really broke it. I start to panic. It can’t be broken. I have to have a computer. It’s how we have to do everything right now. All of my classes are virtual, and without it I’ll be lost.
I grab my phone, not even bothering to text. I call instead. It doesn’t even ring once before he’s answering it.
“Chandler.” When he says my name it’s low and gruff.
I’m guessing it’s because he only woke up a few minutes ago. My body reacts to it, though. My nipples tighten. My mind races with thoughts of him in his bed. I push my thighs together. The familiar ache is back. “Chandler.” He says my name with more force, pulling me from my fantasy world.
“Hey,” I croak out, sounding like a frog. What is wrong with me? Other girls make this seem easy. I’ve seen them flirt with Davis too many times to even count. Each time they make it seem effortless.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think I broke my computer and I’m having a small meltdown. We have to do everything on the computer. How will I turn in any of my assignments? How will I do anything? I’m already stuck in this house alone. I’m losing it.” I stop talking because I’m rambling more with each word that slips from me.
“I want you to calm down, sweetness. I’ll be there in ten,” he says, ending the call. Ten? He lives more than ten minutes from here. I catch my reflection in the mirror again. My hair is a mess and I’ve got a Cookie Monster shirt on. I’m going to need every second of those ten minutes to make myself look somewhat presentable.
Still, I smile, for once knowing that at least today will be a little different from yesterday.
Wait. Did he call me sweetness?
Chapter Five
Berkley
Fuck. I called her sweetness. This is not going well. If I’m going over to fix her computer, I’m going to need a buffer. I call Davis. He doesn’t answer. I jab the redial, but it goes straight to voicemail.
I stick my head back in the reading room. “Mom, I’m going back over to Chandler’s. Her computer broke down and she needs it for school.”
She shifts on the sofa to look at me. “You should buy her a new one, honey. She shouldn’t have to use old equipment during this pandemic.”
“I’ve tried, but you know how she is about money.” Chandler is super proud and won’t take anything she hasn’t earned. The problem is that you can’t even give her a job because she thinks that’s some kind of weird-ass charity. I’ve tried to tell her that sitting on a bunch of cash and watching her scrimp by makes me sick to my stomach, but she’s not interested in hearing it. I admire the hell out of her, but also wish she’d ease up at times.
“You just have to be more creative, dear,” Mom says.
“In what way? Hide a stack of cash in her drawer and have her accidentally find it?”
Mom clicks her tongue. “I said creative, not simple.”
“Ouch.” I slap a hand across my chest.
Mom waves me off. “Enough with your dramatics. Go help your girl.”
“She’s not my girl,” I tell Mom.
“Oh, you’re just calling everyone sweetness then?”
I cringe. “You heard?”
“I’m your mother.”
I leave then because whenever your mom pulls out that line, there’s no arguing with her. It’s like the trump card. “I don’t like pasta.” “Well, eat it anyway, I’m your mother.” “I want you to divorce Dad.” “I’m not going to and we’re not arguing about it anymore. I’m your mother.” Sad but true.
I stop by the computer store and pick up an open box, non-returnable laptop. That’s creative, right? Before I go into Chandler’s house, I knock on Davis’ door. No one answers, so I let myself in. He’s not in his bedroom, so I tromp down the stairs, where I find him passed out in front of the television. His arm is dangling off the edge and his head is nearly at a ninety degree angle from his body. Damn, that cannot be comfortable. The bottle of booze is tipped over, but empty, thank fuck. I bag the trash, straighten out his head, and throw a blanket over his body. I wonder if I should leave him alone in this condition. I exhale through clenched teeth. I think I read somewhere people can choke on their vomit in their sleep so, no, I can’t abandon him.
I grab my phone and text Chandler.
Davis is passed out
She replies right away
I’m on my way. Should I bring the cookies over?
The way my mind immediately conjures up an image of me eating out her pussy is not good for my young health. I give myself a mental shake and reply, Yeah.
Even though Davis is comatose, he’s still a good prophylactic. I’m not going to do anything dumb like make a move on Chandler while her man is passed out on the sofa behind us. I take the laptop and power it up. I create an account for her, log in to the school site and enter her student information. By the time she comes tripping down the steps, I have everything set up.
“Hey,” she says, almost shyly.
“Hey.” I jerk my head. “Come over and take a look.”
“Did you get a new laptop?” she asks, settling by my side.
I try not to make it too obvious that I’m inhaling her scent. She smells like vanilla, chocolate, and something sweet—like cherries. Are her lips…glistening? Is that lip gloss or did she lick her lips? I gnaw at the corner of my mouth and force my eyes onto the screen. Her lips are a danger zone. I mean, all of her is a danger zone, but the lips, chest, and lap sections are extremely hazardous. I need to put the black Parasite bar over them. Or maybe the bar should just be on my eyes.
“Is there something wrong with my face?” she asks.
“Ah, no, why?”
“Because you were staring at it and now you’re frowning.”
I jab my finger on the laptop keyboard. “Just trying to remember the password I created,” I lie.
“That’s my birthday.”
“Right.” I clear my throat. Davis is right behind me, and all I can think about is his girl’s lips. What is wrong with me? Davis is my best friend. He was there when I needed someone. I refuse to be like my old man—betraying the people I supposedly care about. I need to get my act together, but it’s so fucking hard. She’s so hot. Her thigh is inches away from mine. She’s still got her shorts on, which means an acre of naked flesh is within touching distance. Her shorts are bunched at the crotch, and there’s only this small amount of fabric between my hand and her pussy. What would she feel like? Does she trim or is it a full bush? How long would it take for her to get wet if I touched her? Can she fit more than one finger inside of her? My dick throbs with wonder. I curl my fingers into my lap. “This is yours.” I shove the thing at her without looking. “I need to take a piss.”
“What do you mean it’s mine?”
“I bought it at the store. It’s an open box thing so no, I can’t return it. Don’t argue with me,” I snap when her mouth opens to launch some protest. “I don’t have time to come over to your house every time your old-ass computer breaks down.” I stomp to the bathroom and slam the door shut, but the image of her hurt face is going to haunt me for a long time.
Chapter Six
Chandler
I stand there shocked that Berkley would talk to me that way. I know he does it to others, but I thought I was different. He’s never been anything besides nice to me. Maybe he was only that way to me because of Davis. Now I’ve been trying to get close to him and he snapped. His words hurt me more than they should have.
I carefully set the laptop down on a table. This time it’s not because of the money. This time it’s because he was using it to get away from me. That thought hurts the most. He went through all of that trouble and spent all of this money so he wouldn’t have to come over.
So that I wouldn’t bother him. I can’t keep this computer. Not only because he was a dick, but I know that every time I would try to use it that I would think about him not wanting to spend time with me.
I blink quickly, trying to stop the tears. I will not cry in front of him. No, I’m going to be a jerk right back. I pick the laptop back up when I hear the bathroom door open. He takes a few steps out before he notices me standing here.
“Chandler.” He says my name softly. Did I really think he called me sweetness? It’s clear I must have misheard him.
“Berkley,” I snap right back. His eyebrows lift. I walk over to him, shoving the laptop into his chest.
He grunts, wrapping his arms around it.
“Chandler—“
“Don’t.” I put my hand up, not wanting to hear his explanation. “I don’t want your stupid apology. I don’t need you to tell me how bad you feel that you upset me. I get it now.” I look up at his handsome face. God this hurts. Is this the whole first love and broken heart thing?
“I can’t believe I ever had a crush on you. I thought you were different from all the other guys. I was wrong.” I step back. His face is filled with confusion. “I can’t be your friend anymore either. I thought you were different, but I guess you were only nice to me because of Davis. I’ll make sure I stay out of your way. I got your message loud and clear.”
Hell, I should have gotten the message when he barely texted me back. Yet I wanted to hang on to the fantasy that I was living in my mind. The one that had him wanting me as much as I did him. This isn’t his fault. The only person I should be mad at is myself. I’ve become one of the girls who chases down men who don’t even want them. Pathetic.
I turn, running up the basement stairs. I hear him call my name, but I don’t stop until I’m in my house with the door locked. I slide down the door, trying to catch my breath. I wipe the tears off my cheeks. A knock sounds at the door, but I remain quiet.
“I know you’re in there.”
I pull myself off the floor. “Go back to Davis. He needs you.” I don’t wait for him to respond. I head to my bedroom, kicking off my shoes. I turn my phone off and pull the blanket over my head, pretending that it will block out the world for the day.
The one perk of always being alone is that no one sees you cry. I jerk awake hours later knowing I missed my classes. There are archives, so I know I can watch them later. I just like being there so if I have a question the teacher can help me.