Unsocial

by Dykes, Nicole

  “Yeah, laugh it up, but I’m not kidding. I’m not ready for this shit at all, and I might have a stroke before it’s all over.” She laughs, of course. “Were you heading out to your car?”

  She nods. “Yes.”

  “Can I walk you out and make sure that asshole isn’t waiting for you?”

  “Sure.”

  We walk out to the parking lot, “So, you know Cassie was asked to Homecoming.”

  She smiles and finds her keys in her purse, “Yes, she sent me about a dozen texts right after she was asked. She’s excited, Dylan.”

  “You seriously knew about this when I called you last night? That’s cruel, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know, but it was so fun listening to you have a panic attack, and then little ole me saving the day. And I also know how happy she was when you told her she could go.”

  “But now we have another problem,” I inform her.

  “Excuse me, but, we?”

  “Yes, we. You’re being punished for last night when you let me go on with my panic attack. Where have you been hiding this cruel streak anyway?” I tease.

  “Okay, okay, what seems to be the newest problem?”

  “She wants to go dress shopping,” I say as we reach her car.

  “And you’re freaking out, why? “

  “Seriously, can you picture me hitting the mall looking for a dress? I don’t even want her to go on this stupid date because I don’t know what this shithead wants with my sister. If I help pick out the dress, it’s just going to piss her off because it’ll cover her from neck to toes.”

  She smiles, “You know, not every guy has bad intentions. It’s just an innocent date. Why don’t you invite him over for dinner one night before next Friday and get to know him?”

  I grin, big. “Not a bad idea. How about Tuesday, and you can meet him too. That way we’ll both get a feel for him. Now, for the reason I’m here, I was wondering, I mean she needs this dress so I thought maybe you could go with us because I know this is something she would have done with her mom, and I don’t know anything about this stuff, and she loves you.”

  Great, I’m going to hyperventilate because I said all that without taking a breath. Maybe Brooke will have pity on me and say, yes. I swear I’m never like this. I’m usually cool and collected. I can see her wheels turning, and she’s thinking it over probably deciding if this is okay or not.

  “Yeah, I can do that. It just so happens I need some stuff from the mall.”

  “Not more hideous pantsuits, please.”

  She laughs, “Really? Asking me for a favor and then making fun of my clothes?”

  I smile. I think about the t-shirt and jeans she wears on Tuesdays which I’m certain are because of our cooking lessons. If I could just get her let her hair down, I would be a happy man, at least for a while. I’m not going to be satisfied until I have her in my bed, under me, and screaming the walls of my room down…..and let’s stop this train of thought because she’s not going to appreciate what’s happening behind my zipper while we stand in the parking lot of her work. “Okay, okay. I just like to see you in your jeans and t-shirts. That’s definitely your look. And I really would appreciate your help Sunday. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “Dylan, I said yes. I don’t mind helping Cassie at all. How about I meet you guys at the mall around one at the main entrance?”

  I would rather pick her up, but instead, I nod, “Sounds good. Thank you, Brooke.”

  “It’ll be fun, and I’m happy to help.”

  She gets into her car and drives off, and I drive home to tell Cassie that Brooke will be joining us. Spending time on Sunday with Brooke and making Cassie happy, win-win for me.

  On Sunday Cassie and I drive to the mall, and she falls out of the truck, practically running to the mall’s main entrance. I follow behind her, and see Brooke waiting for us. God this girl is gorgeous. Of course, her hair is up, but to my surprise, it’s in a ponytail. And yes, she does have long hair. She’s wearing a simple t-shirt and tight jeans, and goddamn if my jeans don’t get tighter as well.

  I join them and exchange greetings with Brooke. I can’t take my eyes off her, even with Cassie in full-blown girl mode, talking about shit I’ve never heard of before. I’m just tagging along behind them to the store where there are formal dresses in the window. I'm following Brooke’s tight little ass because it seems to be the beacon I need to follow, and it’s damn sure an incentive to keep up.

  It doesn’t take long to zone out though as the two start going through the store. So, I decide to use my phone to get a little work done. Finally, Cassie goes back to the dressing room to try a dress on while I sit with Brooke on a little red sofa in the store. “She is so excited, Dylan.”

  “Yeah, I know, I just hope she doesn’t get taken advantage of,” I tell her worriedly.

  “Stop it. You have to quit worrying about this so much, or you’ll spoil her first date by being so negative. Do you know anything about this Brent kid?”

  I shake my head, “No, has she said anything to you about him?”

  “Just that he is really, really, super-hot. He drives the sexiest car. And he’s the best player on the basketball team.” I laugh at her attempt to sound like Cassie.

  “Great, Brooke. You’re making me feel so much better about this.”

  Cassie walks out of the dressing room in a way-too-short red dress that dips way too fucking low in the front. No fucking way. “That scrap of material had better be a joke.”

  Cassie pouts and looks to Brooke, who stands and walks closer to Cassie. “Hmm, it’s really pretty, and I love the color on you, but I don’t know. It just doesn’t leave enough to the imagination. Guys love mystery.”

  Cassie agrees and goes back into the dressing room. Damn, Brooke is good. “Thank you.”

  She laughs, “Yeah, you looked like you were about to lose your mind.”

  “She’s only fifteen and just barely. She doesn’t need to show that much skin, ever.”

  “I agree. Don’t worry we will find the perfect one.”

  Cassie comes out again in a much more brother-friendly dress, but I can tell she hates it. “This dress is so ugly. I hate it.”

  Brooke nods and scrunches her nose, “Agreed, next one. And don’t worry we have all day.”

  Wait. What? All day? I hope that’s a joke. How long can it possibly take to find a dress? My answer to that stupid question comes six eye-bleeding, head-splitting hours later. Not only did I end up buying her dress, but it turns out she just had to have new shoes, makeup, and jewelry for this dance. Now we’re walking to the parking lot, and I’ve been reduced to pack mule because I’m the one carrying all Cassie’s new shit out of the mall. Cassie hasn’t stopped thanking Brooke all day for helping her. And after this experience, I really do owe her myself.

  “Cassie, it was no problem. It was a lot of fun, and I know you are going to have a great time. If you need anything else, call me.” She turns to me. “Okay, I’ll see you on Tuesday. Pick out what’s on the menu, and I’ll help you with the shopping list. And think about inviting Brent over. Cassie and I talked about it, and she thinks it’ll be a good idea for you to meet him.”

  Cassie smiles and gives her a big hug. After thanking her again for giving up her Sunday, we say our goodbyes and head home.

  Tuesday rolls around, but, unfortunately, Cassie’s ‘date’ couldn’t make dinner. It seems the boy toy has a job after school. I know I should see this as a good thing, but he wants to go out with my sister, so no, it’s not a good thing. I decided on fried chicken, so that’s on the menu for tonight. Yesterday I had gone to the store and nearly cleaned the place out to restock our kitchen. After four days of takeout, because I didn’t feel like shopping, the crew was planning a mutiny. And yes, I consulted Brooke on the shopping list. We spent nearly two hours with her texting a list of everything I needed to stock up.

  Now I’m watching her dance around me while I stand by the stove, to keep an eye on
the chicken. She’s shaking her ass and singing a horrible rendition of Nickelback’s Rockstar, and as bad as it is, the girl is straight up fucking sexy. I feel some grease pop on my arm pulling me from my in-depth study of Brooke’s body, and turn to take out the few remaining pieces. She’s washing up some shit at the sink, and before I know it I’m across the kitchen with an arm wrapped around her waist and pulling her back into my body. She stops her singing; her body tightens up, and she lets out the slightest moan followed by a sigh. “Stay for dinner tonight.”

  This isn’t the first time I’ve asked her since she got here, but I’m hoping, this time, she says, yes. I just want her here for as long as I can steal time with her. I have a feeling she’s terrified that it’s somehow crossing a line, and I want to say it's just dinner, but it’s not, and she knows it too. She leans her head back into me and shakes her head, “I can’t.”

  She’s sticking to her decision which is pissing me the fuck off. I’m frustrated as hell over wanting her. It’s been so goddamn long since I’ve gotten laid, and being around her is fucking with me to the point I’m going to lose it. I want her to say ‘fuck it, and give in. I know she wants it. She turns in my arm and looks up into my eyes, and I fucking see how much she wants me too, but I know she’s going to say, no.

  To avoid the rejection as long as I can and hold onto this moment of having her in my arms, I bend my head to her neck, breathe her scent in, and kiss the place just below her ear, “Brooke, just stay for dinner. Spend time with me, and the kids,” I add. Then we can have a beer and talk before you go home.” I feel her shiver when I press my lips against the shell of her ear and whisper, “Please, Brooke, I want you…to stay… for dinner and conversation.”

  She bends forward and presses her face briefly into my chest. “I just can’t. You’re right, I want to. I want to, so much, but I have to think about my job, my career. There’s a line I can’t cross, even though it seems I am coming awfully close at times.” Her voice is tortured which only confirms; she feels this too.

  “Who the fuck is going to know if you stayed for dinner, or whatever happens between us, Brooke. Nobody’s here; it’s just us. The kids aren’t going to say anything. They love it when you’re here.” I’m begging, and I’ve never begged for a girl.

  “I’ll know, Dylan. I have to, at least, try to remain professional. I can’t risk hurting the future you’re trying to build with them, and I cannot risk my career.” She’s pleading for me to understand, but I ignore it.

  She pulls back; I know I’ve lost. “I’m gonna tell the kids bye.” She reaches for my hand to get my attention, but I won’t look at her. Who the fuck knew I didn’t take rejection from a woman well? She gives it a squeeze and tells me she’ll see me next week. I don’t miss how she holds onto me just a little longer than she needs to and knowing she wants me to; I just get angrier. I know she wants this, but she’s going to fight it. I should respect it, I should be adult about it, but I just don’t give a rat’s ass because I want Brooke fucking Porter.

  Then I resign myself that it’s not going to happen because of her career and our stupid fucked up situation, and I need to find a way to get past this attraction I have for my fucking social worker. Which leads me to call Jackson after the dishes get done, homework is checked, and the kids are in bed. I text him that we are going out Thursday, and he immediately lets me know how happy that makes him. He’s been missing his wingman. I’m just missing the feel of a soft, willing body.

  Thursday night Jackson and I are checking out the easy pickings that make up the women clientele of the dive bar close to Jackson’s new condo. Seriously, this joint is called the Shake Shack. I don’t ask Jax how he found it; the important thing for me right now is getting drunk, and getting one, or two, of these overblown poster models for STDs, to go back to Jax’s place. I’ve been eyeing, really the only piece of ass that’s gotten my attention, as she gyrates on the dance floor.

  She looks up and catches my eye, and I give her a head jerk inviting her to join my little party. After making her way through the crowd, she slides onto the stool close to mine at our table. She’s tall, built like sex on legs with those big fake tits that are a firm hold while she rides you. Her hair’s long enough to grab handfuls of while I fuck her from behind, which is always good for me. I don’t have to worry about overly zealous skanks who like to kiss. I do not kiss.

  I’ve got just enough of sober left in me to know she looks nothing like Brooke, which is fan-fucking-tastic because I’m here to forget about her. In fact, she shouldn’t even be in my head right now. All I need to do is figure out how fast I can get this bitch back to Jackson’s, get her naked, get off, and get her the fuck gone. Thankfully, I’ve got my never-fail out in the form of four kids at home, and it’s not even a lie. It’s obvious she’s on the same page about not wasting fucking time because her hands are exploring everything they can get to in the middle of this meat market. She’s not shy, and frankly, I’m feeling a little disgusted. I’m just too goddamn pissed off and horny to give a shit.

  I lean over and ask her if she wants another drink, which thankfully she declines. Now it’s just a matter of leading her four blocks down the road to Jackson’s condo, where I plan on fucking this chick until Brooke’s just a pain in my ass again that shows up on Tuesdays. There she is a-fucking-gain. Time to get this shit on and done. She sticks her face in my neck and asks me my name, which I ignore with a seductive smile before leading her out of the bar. I look at Jackson, who gives me a thumbs up. Earlier he gave me his extra key for just this situation. I’ve noticed all night the curious glances over my desperation to drink and fuck tonight, but I’m not about to share with him about Brooke.

  Once inside the front door of Jackson’s, Sandy or Candy, whatever the fuck she said her name was, doesn’t waste a minute getting her hands and mouth on me. Finally, something easy. This chick has a fucking mouth like a Hoover on steroids. She’s latched onto my neck hard enough to put a vampire to shame. And her hands are doing some amazingly fast work in getting my shirt unbuttoned and off. Obviously, I need to help her, which isn’t much, because she has a tube top that comes down easily under her breasts and a skirt so short it takes no effort to slide it up to meet the top, easy peasy. The best part, the bitch has no panties. Seriously, no class whatsoever, which I know doesn’t say a whole hell of a lot about me, but what the fuck. I’m a young, single dude with needs that have been neglected way too long, and all the sucking and rubbing has my cock all kinds of ready to play.

  Brooke’s scowling face floats in front of mine while cheap-and-easy is working her overly developed suction cup of a mouth down my chest. Brooke would hate her. I blink away her image and concentrate on the top of the head that’s working its way to what’s behind my zipper, and once again assist in keeping things going on the fast track that’s going to get me balls deep in her. I open my jeans because I’m sick of the foreplay and wasting time on this. I just need to fuck and flee, ASAP, but first things first. I want to feel that mouth that could probably suck start my Harley around my dick. “On your knees.”

  She peeks up at me from underneath her fake lashes, “Yes, sir.” Too easy. Now she turns the vacuum on overdrive and goes to town on my cock. Thank you, Jesus, for girls like this. When I get close, I decide I’ve had enough, because she’s decided it’ll drive me crazy to use a little teeth. The problem is, I don’t know how drunk she is, and I’m not letting her unleash her teeth around my junk.

  I pull her up and tell her to lean over the back of the couch. I’ve decided I’ve seen enough of her pancake-batter face. I’m used to Brooke’s clean, fresh look, and looking at this girl is going to kill my hard on. She was way better looking across a dark bar. I get a condom out of my wallet, roll it on, and get ready to pound out a quick fuck between this girl’s legs. I need this. I need to forget about the kids for the next few minutes. I need to forget about wanting Brooke Porter. I need to forget about the hours it's taking to get the business off t
he ground. I need to remember what it felt like to be single and free and not having to give a fuck about another human being 24 hours a day, and this girl is going to help me do all that while I get my rocks off. I have no idea why I’m rationalizing what I’m about to do. “Are you ready,” I ask her.

  “God yes, baby. I’m so ready for you.”

  “Don’t call me baby. Just lean over and get ready for hard and fast, got it?”

  “Whatever. Just fuck me, handsome.”

  “Don’t say another fucking word until you tell me goodbye,” I say as I slam into her from behind. I listen to her overly exaggerated sounds of enthusiasm while I give it to her in quick strokes. I feel the tingling in the base of my spine, I’m close. But her noise is killing my dick’s attention. “Shut up,” I growl. I lean over her back to try at a different angle to get to the finish quicker, and it hits me how different she smells from Brooke’s clean scent. I back the fuck off, but Brooke’s face doesn’t leave my mind, and just like that, the thought of Brooke, and I’m ready to come. A few more strokes, and unload in my Magnum.

  I look at the back of this random stranger who I’ve spent the last half hour fucking, and the strangest fucking feeling rolls through me. A feeling I’ve never in my 12 years of unattached sexual conquest moves from a place in my chest and works its way to my brain, and I don’t like it, guilt. Not guilt that I fucked this chick blind or the fact I’m fixing to show her to the door as soon as her skirts down and her tops up, no this is the guilt of a man who feels like he just fucked over one of the best people in his life.

  I know the guilt is useless because Brooke has no plans of jeopardizing her career for a relationship with me, but damn if I feel like I need to avoid fuckups like this, just in case she comes around. I know Brooke. This shit would make her so disappointed in me, and that’s the last thing I want in this world, to let down Brooke. Man, I need to get a grip. Really, what exactly do I see happening with Brooke? Even though she’s got this hold on me and I can’t get the thought of getting her in my bed out my head, I have no clue what would happen next. I’m not a relationship kind of guy. I’m not marriage material. Shit, I’m doing everything I can to get through this ready-made family that’s been thrown in my lap. I don’t have the time or even the know-how of what a relationship takes. Do I?