by Amelia Stone
He grinned up at me, then winced at his split lip. “Man, I haven’t been punched that hard since the last time I asked Sam about Hannah.”
I glowered. “If Sam were here, he’d back me up. You don’t talk about his sister like that.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, but she’s not your sister, man.” He wiped the blood from his lip. “So what gives?”
I shook my head, looking around. Not surprisingly, no one was paying us any attention. Raj getting a pop on the jaw was par for the course in our circle of friends. Like I said, he was a pig.
I spent a few moments scrambling for an answer. Why was I so protective of Hannah?
I told myself it was because we were friends. I would do no less for any of my other friends, surely.
But if I were being truly honest, it felt like more than that. It felt like a deep-seated need to keep her safe, to make her happy. Everything with Hannah just felt like more. More than friends, more than any other girl before her.
I sighed and pushed those thoughts away. I was probably confused. Hannah and I were just friends. With benefits, sure, but friends nonetheless. And neither of us was looking for more than that.
Eyeing Raj, I could definitely say that she deserved someone better than him.
Someone like me, came a whisper from my brain. But I shushed it.
“Nothing, man,” I finally said. “Just stay away from her, okay?” He looked about to argue, but I cut him off. “Seriously, dude, find some other girl to stick your dick in.” I made a sweeping gesture, taking in the room. “There are plenty of naughty nurses and sexy zombies here. Pick one. Anyone but Hannah.”
He shook his head, waving his hand at me dismissively. “Whatever, man. Grab a drink and something to eat. You need to chill the fuck out.”
I sure as hell couldn’t argue with that. So I made a pit stop at the bar, and set off to mingle.
But half an hour, two shots, a dozen fun-size candies, and a beer later, I was still in a foul mood. Nearly every guy at the party had come up to me to ask about Hannah. Apparently all of our friends had just been waiting for her to get rid of Asshat Andrew so they’d finally have a shot with her. And every last one of them seemed supremely confident in his chances.
I couldn’t really blame them, though. Hannah was special. If I were looking for a relationship, I’d definitely start there, too.
I wasn’t looking for anything serious, though. We were good just as we were.
If I repeated that often enough, maybe it would sink in.
After I’d dismissed the latest contender, I pulled out my phone and texted Hannah.
Brian [10/31 10:17PM]: Change ur mind pls. Party sux without u!
Her reply buzzed in immediately.
Hannah [10/31 10:17PM]: Full sentences, please. I don’t speak text.
I frowned down at my phone. Typical grammar Nazi Hannah.
Brian [10/31 10:18PM]: Im tipsy. And I hate every1 tonite. Come save me frm killing a frat douche.
After the longest fucking minute ever, I got a reply.
Hannah [10/31 10:19PM]: Jamy’s here. She convinced me I look okay in my original costume. We’ll head over in a minute.
I frowned. I’m sure she looked better than okay, but I had bigger fish to fry.
Brian [10/31 10:20PM]: Stay there. Ill come get u.
As I moved toward the front door, I spotted Rachel, the girl from my engineering lab. She was dressed as a Playboy bunny. Our eyes met, and she headed straight for me, a suggestive smile on her face. I inwardly groaned. I so did not have the patience for this right now.
“Leavin’ so soon, Cap’n?” she purred, eyeing my pirate getup, her eyes lingering on the crotch of my too-tight pants. Rental costumes are just not made for guys who are six-foot-four and two-hundred-plus pounds.
I frowned at her. “Not now, Rachel.”
She pouted and put a hand out to stop me. “I jus’ wanna talk,” she slurred. Jesus. Now that she was closer, I could practically see the alcohol fumes wafting off her. She smelled like tequila, sweat, and cheap perfume, and my stomach rolled.
I shook my head, trying to move past her. “I don’t think we have anything to say to each other.”
Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. If anything, I should thank her. If she hadn’t freaked out on me all those weeks ago, Hannah and I never would have fallen into bed together.
“I jus’ wanna ‘nother chance,” Rachel said, trying for a seductive look. The effect was ruined when she burped up a bunch of tequila.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Hannah [10/31 10:24PM]: Too late, walking up to the door now.
I growled as I looked down at the screen. As soon as Hannah’s tiny ass got through the door, I was fully prepared to give her a safety lecture. Between Rachel’s drunken proposition, the fight with Raj, and the bevy of eligible bachelors vying for Hannah’s hand, I was ready to take my frustrations out on someone, fair or not.
“The fuck is your roommate doing here?” Rachel shouted, sounding annoyed.
I looked up, and my anger evaporated. Hannah and Jamy were just inside the door, looking around the room with twin expressions of trepidation. But when Hannah spotted me, she smiled hugely, and I immediately popped a boner.
Hannah was dressed up like the sexiest mermaid I’d ever seen. Her breasts were pushed up by a purple shell bra, making her usually modest cleavage look luscious and full. She had on a long, tight, sparkly skirt that ended in mesh fins that draped over her feet, like a mermaid’s tail. Her long red hair was hanging down her back in beachy waves, and she had a huge tropical flower behind one ear. Best of all, every inch of her exposed arms, belly and chest was covered in some kind of shimmery makeup, giving her a dewy, glowing effect.
She was a fucking vision.
A wolf whistle interrupted my gawking, and I looked around, trying to identify the source. Every dude in the room was staring at Hannah with cartoon bug eyes.
Oh, hell no.
A movement to my left caught my eye, and I saw Raj’s roommate, Mike, heading toward Hannah with a dazed look on his face. When he reached her, he bent down on one knee in front of her.
“Can I be part of your world, princess?” he shouted. I sneered. He was probably drunk off his ass.
She laughed and said something I couldn’t hear. And all of a sudden I desperately needed to know what she said. I needed to know she wasn’t falling for his bullshit.
An arm waved in front of my face, interrupting my thoughts. “Hello? Brian?” I tore my eyes away from the scene in front of me long enough to look down and see Rachel pouting up at me. “I’m talkin’ at you,” she slurred. “Les’ git outta here, baby.” She rubbed herself against me, the look on her face leaving no room for interpretation.
“Not now, Rachel,” I repeated, pushing past her toward Hannah.
“I knew it!” she cried after me, outraged. “I knew you were fuckin’ your roommate!”
A few people turned to watch, laughing, as Rachel continued to shout at me, but I paid them no attention. I had to get to Hannah. I had to get her out of here, away from all these horn dogs.
“Come on, Hannah,” Mike was pleading as I drew level with them. “Just one drink?”
“Fuck off, Mike,” I growled, grabbing Hannah’s hand and pulling her toward the door.
“What the fuck, Brian?” Mike shouted, struggling to his feet. “She just got here.”
“She’s not feeling well. She needs to go home,” I barked, moving faster.
“I feel fine,” she protested as we stumbled out into the front yard. I ignored her as I dragged her behind me, only half aware that she was still talking.
When we were in front of our building, she stopped walking, digging in her heels. “Brian!” she shouted, and I stopped, turning to face her. “Are you listening to me? I can’t leave Jamy stranded at the party by herself!”
I scowled. “Todd and Celia are there, and Celia’s not drinking. They can look out for her.” To prove it, I pulled o
ut my phone, shooting off a quick text to Todd.
She tugged her hand free and crossed her arms. Her boobs were pushed up even further by this action, making my dick throb painfully against the tight confines of my ridiculous pirate pants. “You want to tell me what this is all about?” she asked.
Impatient to get her alone, I stalked over to her and roped an arm around her waist, picking her up and tossing her over my shoulder. Ignoring her squawks of protest and her arms pounding on my back, I took the stairs to our second-floor apartment three at a time. Once we were inside and the door was closed and locked behind us, I put her down.
She turned to face me, an adorable scowl on her shimmery face.
“What is your damage, Heather?” she quipped, sounding peeved.
I smiled down at her, a predatory, wolfish smile. Her eyes grew huge as she finally realized my intentions, and she sucked in a breath. “You cannot show up looking like that and expect me to let you stay at that party. Especially with all those other guys there.”
“Looking like what?” she whispered as I leaned in closer.
“Like you just walked out of my damn fantasies,” I rumbled, bending to kiss her deeply.
When we came up for air, she smiled. “So you couldn’t resist my siren song, eh, sailor?” She pushed me back until I tumbled onto the couch. I grinned, knowing where this was heading. Hannah loved to be on top. “I just knew I could lure you in for one more time.”
“Oh, I’m always up for one more time.” I grinned as she reached behind herself to untie her shell bra. “Did you plan the coordinating costumes, you saucy merwench?”
She smirked. “Maybe.”
I made a very undignified whimper as she pulled her bra off and dropped it at her feet. I reached for her, but she danced just out of my grasp, smiling and shaking her head. She bit her lip as she unfastened a hidden zipper at her hip and wriggled out of her ‘tail.’
I groaned when I realized she wasn’t wearing any panties.
She grinned as she watched me drink in the view. I loved seeing Hannah naked. Every time, I noticed something new. The birthmark on her left hip. The ropy scar on her knee. The constellation of moles near her belly button. The dimples above her ass. Every inch of her was beautiful.
It’s something that really never got old.
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you just going to sit there and stare, or are you going to join the party?”
With a sudden burst of energy, I scrambled to pull off my pirate gear, and she giggled. I actually groaned in relief when the damn pants came off and my hard-on sprung free. She bent to help me pull off the boots, taking the pants with them. She licked my shaft as she pulled herself up, and I hissed.
She pulled a condom from the drawer in the coffee table, quickly rolling it on. As she straddled me, I dipped my head, taking one of her taut nipples into my mouth. She moaned as she sank down onto me, rubbing my shoulders to encourage me.
We found our rhythm quickly, with her grinding her hips and me lifting mine to thrust up into her. She pulled my head up to kiss me. We moved faster, harder, both of us moaning, desperate for release. I worked a hand down between us, flicking her nub at a furious pace. She arched her back, digging her nails into my shoulders, as she fell apart. She screamed my name, driving me over the edge with her.
The only thought penetrating my lust haze at that moment was that every time with her just got better and better. Hannah was the only girl I’d ever been with who made me want to come back for more.
When we came back to ourselves, she rested her forehead on my shoulder, nuzzling my chest.
“I think I like Halloween now,” she murmured, sighing contentedly.
I gently pulled her head up to kiss her. “You’re keeping that outfit,” I rumbled, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her closer.
She grinned, saluting me. “Aye, aye, Cap’n!”
The day before Thanksgiving, I woke up and realized I was in love with Brian.
I’d been fighting it for a couple of months, ever since we started our friends-with-benefits arrangement. I didn’t want to develop feelings for Brian. I was just getting over a tumultuous breakup with someone I’d spent five long years with. I’d expected forever with Andrew, only to have the rug pulled out from under me in the most heartless way.
I went into this thing with Brian with my eyes wide open. We’d been very clear that we were not in a relationship. What we had was casual, free and open, just having fun. No strings. Fuck buddies. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
And I thought I was okay with that. In order to protect my fragile heart, I had to be okay with that.
So I ignored the little voice in my head that told me I was addicted to his kisses, to his touch. I disregarded the idea that it was more than just sex. I denied the feeling that I was making love with Brian, that we were connecting on a deeper level. I overindulged in Oreos and moody tunes, drowning my confusion in the process.
I told myself I could handle this. I was twenty-one. Old enough to have an affair with a friend without letting my emotions get in the way. This was what my college years were for, right? To get the casual hookups out of my system. To figure out what I really wanted, in love as well as life.
But that Wednesday morning, I had the overwhelming feeling that what I really wanted was Brian.
He had an early flight to Denver that morning, the better to maximize the long weekend back home with his family, so I was alone in bed. I felt his absence keenly. I’d gotten used to waking up with our legs entangled, my head pressed to his chest, his hands on my breasts, his face in my hair. I wanted that every morning.
A vase of fresh sunflowers sat on my nightstand, and I frowned at them in confusion. They hadn’t been there when I fell asleep last night. I reached for the card, and felt a lump rise in my throat as I read the handwritten note.
Good luck tomorrow! I know you’ll knock ‘em dead. Have an amazing weekend! See you Monday. -B
How was I supposed to keep myself from feeling anything beyond friendship for Brian when he did swoon-worthy things like that? Leaving me a bouquet of my favorite flower, when he knew how nervous I was for the coming weekend, was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me.
I sighed. His note reminded me that I had a lot of prep to do if I planned to cook Thanksgiving dinner for my family for the first time. I needed to get started with my day, not wallow in my feelings.
Neither of my parents knew how to cook, so growing up, our Thanksgiving usually consisted of Chinese take-out. My love of cooking really came from my visits to Jamy’s house. She’d been my best friend since the second grade, and her mother was an excellent cook and baker. Jamy’s mom used to spend hours patiently teaching us how to make cookies, biscuits and gravy, lasagna, carnitas, and so much more. She was the one who taught me how to expertly grill a steak, how to braise short ribs to melt-in-your-mouth tenderness, how to bake the perfect cheesecake without cracks, and how to make the creamiest, gooiest mac and cheese.
But more importantly, Jamy’s mom was the one who taught me that cooking for people is a way of showing them you care. It’s an idea that’s stuck with me, and it’s what instilled in me the desire to become a chef. In a world that can be so bleak, I wanted to spread love through food.
This weekend, my plan was to show my parents that I was wasting my talent for cooking by drudging through a pre-law degree. They’d never taken my ambitions seriously before, and I knew, in my gut, that it was because they hadn’t tasted my food. I rarely got the chance to cook when I lived at home, having practiced mostly at Jamy’s house.
Anxious now to prove myself, I planned to pull out all the stops and wow them with my best traditional Thanksgiving recipes. A dose of comfort food, as well as an infusion of turkey-induced tryptophan, should put them in a good enough mood for me to bring up a change of major again. And this time I was determined to make them hear me out.
I looked again at the sunflowers on my nightstand, and smiled. With my
talent, and Brian’s encouragement and support, I was sure to win them over.
***
I made the short trip from Tempe to my parents’ home in the Ahwatukee foothills, stopping at the grocery store on the way so I could grab everything I needed for the meal tomorrow. I’d already tasked my mother with purchasing and thawing a turkey earlier in the week, so the sides and desserts were all I had to cover today.
I instantly regretted not giving her my entire shopping list as I pulled into the grocery store parking lot. The place was a zoo, and I chided myself for making the rookie mistake of leaving everything until the last minute. I was lucky that nothing I needed was sold out, but I still made a mental note not to let this happen again next year. Assuming there would be a next year.
As I was negotiating the checkout lines, my phone chimed. It was a group text with Celia and Jamy.
Jamy [11/24 11:43AM]: Lunch at Elmer’s? Need tacos and girl time.
I smiled. Our favorite Mexican restaurant was just what I needed to decompress before my big day tomorrow, and I could definitely use the advice of my best girls on the Brian situation.
An hour later, I was ensconced on the patio at Elmer’s with a plate full of enchiladas, refried beans, rice, and a bucket-size cup of iced tea.
I took my first bite and moaned in appreciation. “I so needed this red chili sauce today.”
My best friend in the whole wide world, Jamy Rodgers, gave me a rueful smile. “Rough day?”
“Better have been, if you made this Mexican girl actually pay for Mexican food,” my other best friend, Celia Ruiz, grumbled. She punctuated her sentence by sticking her tongue out at me.
“Yeah, right,” I shot back. “You love Elmer’s, and you know it.”
She leaned forward, grinning. “Don’t tell my abuela, but their carne asada is better than hers,” she stage whispered, and we all laughed.
After a few moments of chowing down, Jamy broke the silence. “So what happened today?”
I looked into her pale green eyes, wondering where to start. “I had to go to the grocery store today.”
Jamy made a sympathetic noise, while Celia cried, “What? The day before Thanksgiving? Are you nuts?”