“Sure, anything.” Something about the way she said my name warms me to her. There’s something fragile and broken about her that makes me want to protect her like a little sister.
“My mom wasn’t perfect. She had this horrible nickname for me—um…before I was born—and I wish I could forget it, but I can’t.” Her big blue eyes widen the size of silver dollars. “She called me her Little Shit.”
“Oh.” I lean back when she says it. “That’s horrible. I mean, she probably didn’t mean it in a horrible way. Sometimes, grown-ups say things like that as a term of endearment.” Dear God. Jessie and Jilly’s mother had a mouth on her. “Look, I know several people who talk like that all the time. Those words mean nothing to them. In fact, a word is just a sound—we’re the ones who give it power.” I run my hand over her smooth silky hair as she sniffs back tears. I can’t believe I’m defending a woman who addressed her daughter in such a ridiculous and hurtful manner. My mother would die before she called me that.
“I guess you’re right. Maybe I can tell her how much it hurt me in these letters. You know, get it all out and try to focus on the good times.” She looks sickly for a moment as if the good times in her life have been few and far between.
“That sounds perfect, Jilly.” I pull her to me, and her fingers grip tight around my waist as if she’s holding on for dear life. I’m betting Jilly probably doesn’t get too many hugs from her absentee father. Everyone knows that Jessie’s dad is some huge person in the music industry that travels an insane amount. Well, maybe not everyone—maybe just the proficient stalkers like me who are a little too well-versed in all things Jessie. Speaking of which, I’m not sure how touchy-feely Jessie is with her either. I’ll make sure to give her enough affection for all of them, her poor mother included. Not that I could ever make up for a tragedy like that, but I don’t mind trying.
An hour later, we’re both settled at her oversized desk, me with my English homework and Jilly with her five-pages-and-counting letter to her mother in which she catches her up on everything from birth on, and it’s proving to be surprisingly peaceful. Dare I say, I’m actually enjoying this gig?
“Knock, knock,” a deep voice strums as the door opens, and there he stands—all six-foot-two, tall, dark, and handsome inches. His eyes widen, then retract as if he’s trying to place me. “It’s you.”
“I’m not stalking you.” I jump up so fast a jar full of pencils spills to the floor.
He breaks out into that killer grin of his, slow and easy, as if he’s trying to seduce me. “It’s okay.” He comes over and picks up the mess I just made. “Nobody said you were stalking me.” He blinks a smile as he stands to his feet, towering over me with that steadily growing grin. “Not that I would mind if you were.”
I bet he wouldn’t mind. God, he’s such a perv! How could I have been under his spell for so long? All he cares about is seeing my boobs again. I’ve essentially reduced myself to a glorified pair of udders to him.
“She’s mine!” Jilly belts it out quick. “You can’t have her. Get your own tutor.”
“What is it that you’re working on?” He peers over his sister’s shoulder, and I take in the warm scent of his cologne.
Jilly’s eyes grow strangely wild as if speaking to him directly with her narrowed gaze. “I wrote a letter to our dead mother.” She spits it out so mean it hurts my heart to hear her speak so brashly about their mom. Of course, the poor thing doesn’t have a mom around to teach her right from wrong. She probably thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to shout things out so crudely.
Jessie lets out an exasperated breath, the weight of his disappointment falling directly over me. “That’s nice.” He closes his eyes as he nods as if accepting this hard truth on some level. “Jennifer, you mind if we talk for a minute?” He hitches his head toward the hall, and I follow him out—only he doesn’t stop at the doorway. He heads straight for the couch in that oversized family room down the hall. “You want to take a seat?”
“What about—”
He motions to the couch. “She’s fine.” He flips on the TV and turns it down a notch as Scooby-Doo takes over the screen.
I settle in next to him, and feel the heat radiating off his body, the fresh soapy scent lighting up the air between us. His hair is still damp from the shower that I assume he took after practice. My breathing picks up, my heart hammers under my ribcage as if it were trying to riot its way out.
“First the ThunderCats, and now Scooby? Boy”—I muse—“you’re tougher than I thought.”
He barks out a laugh. “What about you? I bet you’re a closet Saturday morning cartoon fiend yourself.”
A small laugh gets buried in my throat. The old me would have wanted to crawl into a hole at the thought of being accused of such a geeky thing, but, hey, I think we’ve crossed the line as far as embarrassing situations go.
“You found me out. I confess, I know my way around a television set. My affinity for cartoons is just barely eclipsed by my obsession with Schoolhouse Rock! and claymation.”
“Gumby and Pokey forever, man.” He holds a hand out, and I slap him five. My entire body responds to that brief skin exchange. My palm swelters from his heated touch.
“Don’t forget Mr. Bill. I’m a die-hard Saturday Night Live girl.” Great. Let him know that you’re a loser who stays home every Saturday night. Why don’t I fill him in on the fact I take the time to brush up on my Algebra 2 skills on weekends, too? “We just got cable last summer, so MTV is cutting into my animated fun, but I guess I have to grow up sometime.” I pick at my nail a minute. I’m sure Jessie is well aware of the fact I’ve crossed puberty. There’s no way I’m filling him in on the fact I have my mother tape All My Children and Santa Barbara for me. Melissa tapes General Hospital for us when she can remember.
“Hey.” His hand falls to my knee, and I stare at him, wide-eyed, partially mortified, partially enraged. “Sorry.” He holds it up as if he just plucked his fingers free from a scalding pot. Jessie relaxes against the sofa for a minute, and I do the same. I don’t know why, but it feels as if I’ve been through a war. “What’s the real story behind that track thing?” He motions around his chest as if mimicking the removal of my bra.
My mouth opens as I consider which way to go with this, so I do the only thing I can think of—tell the truth—the whole naked truth from start to finish.
“Let me get this straight.” He twists into me. Those deep amber eyes bear into mine and melt me straight down to my marrow. A part of me slightly detests myself for letting him have that privilege over and over. “You think you’re too mild, so you decided to take a walk on the wild side?” His brows twist as if this were incomprehensible to him on some level.
“I like so get it. When you’re like practically born on the wild side, it can be a little daunting to think a whole other group of people exists on another plane. That would be me, by the way. I’m just sort of born to be mild.” I toss my hands in the air. “I just thought I’d take the bull by the horns and really make this last stretch of high school my bitch—pardon my French.” My cheeks heat fifty degrees. I should run out of here, but only after confessing I broke the precious frame he has a picture of his dead mother in. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. It’s like I broke a thousand mirrors in my sleep, and now, I’m reaping the twisted rewards.
Jessie reaches over and picks up my hand, nodding as if asking permission in the process, and my entire arm explodes into a spastic current of heat. I give a curt nod back, letting him know it’s sort of, kind of, fine, which it like totally is. After all, he saw my boobs. My hands are practically public property in comparison. My palm explodes with the heat of his touch, and I cringe at the sweaty implications.
“I have a confession to make,” he says it slow, disconcerting, as if whatever came next had the power to blow the paneled walls off this place, all six hundred of them. “I’m in sort of the opposite predicament.”
“What?” I lean in as if I
’ve misheard. For sure, I’m not getting what he’s saying.
His brows furrow, and the slight dimples dig into his cheeks, making my stomach flop like a dying fish.
Jessie Fox is holding my hand. My head throbs right along with my heart, right along with my quivering thighs, and it feels unsafe, dangerously delicious to be sitting on this cherry red sofa with the boy of my dreams. Dear God. Life goals completed.
“I’m looking to take a walk on the mild side.”
Jessie
“The mild side?”
Jennifer Barkly has eyes the color of sea glass and a sweetness about her that I didn’t know existed in girls, or women in general. Every single woman I’ve ever met, from my mother to Jill’s very much not deceased mother, from Estella to Ramona, for damn sure Tess and Rachel or any of my father’s long line of one-night stands have all had a knife-sharp edge to them.
I give a slight tug to her hand, and she clenches over my fingers reflexively. She’s soft. Pretty nails painted light pink, and something about the tiny chips on the edges endears me to her. In a world of plastic perfection, everything about Jennifer Barkly screams I’m real.
“The mild side.” I gently replace her hand on her lap. “You see, my dad’s sort of like me”—I wave my hand as if it means anything—“with the ladies. My mother once told me I should be just like my daddy—her words verbatim. She said he was the devil in a suit, and that was my destiny.” A dull laugh rattles through me. I hated it when she said that. It’s as if she took my entire future, bottled it up, and put a cap on it. It was confining, the ultimate restraint in what I was hoping would pan out to be a very bright and normal life. Nothing about my father, about the way he’s raising his children, at least those in his possession, is normal. “Please don’t repeat any of that. I’d rather forget it. I don’t talk about my mom too much, not sure why I brought that up. I’ve never said that to anyone before.”
“No way. I’ll never say anything.”
“So I’m thinking about taking this mild-thing seriously.” I’m not sure why I put it out there. My gaze runs over the length of her perfect body, tight and curvy in all the right places. I glance back to meet her gaze and find her frowning at me. Crap. I feel like shit. The girls I’m with, the wild girls, usually don’t mind me checking out their bodies, but Jennifer isn’t like them. Even if she’s striving for the wild side, I doubt she’ll ever be like any of those girls.
“Oh?” Her milky white teeth lie over her bottom lip. She bites down so hard her mouth turns a ruby red. “So, what does that mean for you? The mild side?”
“You first.” I lean deeper into the sofa as if readying to watch a movie—a damn good one. In a way, it feels like that. It just feels easy with Jennifer. Heck, in comparison to Tess and Rachel, I’m sure just about anyone would make me feel more comfortable. I’ve thought about what Russell said the other day—which one do I want to hang out with twenty-four seven, and the answer is most definitely neither. The thought of committing to either one of them makes me want to crawl into a manhole and weld the cover shut.
“Okay.” Her eyes drift nervously from one object in the room to the next. “I’m looking to expand my sexual horizons.” She winces when she says it. “I mean—”
I hold up a hand to put her out of her misery. “I think I get the picture. And in reverse of what you’re looking to do, I’m looking to slow down on my endeavors.”
“Like narrowing it down to just one girl?” She bites back down on those bright red lips of hers, and a tiny dimple goes off in her cheek. Something about her undeniable innocence makes my stomach pinch with heat. I can’t remember the last time I had this reaction to a girl, if ever. I’ve done some pretty wild things, been with an entire legion of girls, seen things that would make a grown man blush, and never have I felt that free-fall sensation like I did just now. That right there is what I want more of.
“Like narrowing it down to just one girl.” I swallow hard for no reason. I can’t believe I just said that out loud. It’s like I’m killing off a part of me, and, to be honest, I’m going to miss the hell out of that guy. Heck, my dick is going to miss the hell out of that guy. “How about you? Do you have any prospects for this strut on the wild side of yours?”
She takes a quick breath. Her face pinches a bright pink, matching her lips as she squirms searching for an answer.
“You don’t have to say it. I get it. Danny is a cool guy.” A part of me is hoping she’ll say it isn’t Danny. I offer her a slight nod while bearing hard into her glassy green eyes. Say it isn’t Danny. I can do this for you. It’ll be fun. You can be my mild, and I’ll be your wild. It will be win-win. Besides, I’m dying to taste those lips. I haven’t been denied a whole lot when it comes to the female population, and I can tell you right now I’m not really digging it.
“It’s Danny.” She lets out a giant breath as if now that it’s off her chest she can breathe again. “How about you? You have a girl in mind? Tess or Rachel maybe?” she says that last part a little too fast. I was sort of hoping she, too, wanted to be let in on the playground drama. I know if I did choose one of the two, news would get around fast—almost as fast as it did with Jennifer’s strip tease debacle. A vision of her perky, full tits bouncing violently as she ran past me whips through my mind, and I can feel my boxers stir with approval.
“Yes.” My voice pitches. “Tess or Rachel, I guess.” Crap. Not the direction I wanted this to go in. But if she’s not into me, I don’t want to tease myself into a hard situation. It would be embarrassing for both of us.
“I see.” Her shoulders deflate. Jennifer leans in as she contemplates this, and the spiced scent of her perfume encapsulates me. “So, how are you going to decide?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I should flip a coin.”
“What?” She smacks my arm and laughs, loosening up for the first time since she sat down. I guess you take the prospect of a relationship off the table and things get downgraded to friend mode real quickly. I’ve never been in friend mode with a girl before. I can see how it would be kind of nice. Too bad it had to start here.
“You like need to fall in love. You don’t just like pick one.” She shakes her head at what an idiot I am. “You have to be interested in one more than the other. What about Tess? She seems like she has a little less bite than Rachel.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Okay, then it’s Rachel.”
“Rachel bites, literally.” I slap the back of my neck reflexively. A horrible, achingly wrong, yet delicious, evil idea comes to mind. “How about this? I let you decide.”
“Me?” She buries her finger into her soft chest at least an inch, and my mouth begins to water. Her face smooths out in disbelief. “I can’t figure this one out for you. No way.”
“Sure, you can. Spend a little time with both of them, and tell me what your gut says. In exchange, I’ll put in a good word for you with Danny. Scratch that. I’ll set you up on a date with Danny.” Another light bulb goes off—although a dim, on-its-last-leg sort of light bulb. Suddenly, I have the urge to kick Danny Potter’s lanky, lazy ass. “Why don’t you get to know Tess and Rachel over the next couple of weeks, and weekend after next, we’ll all go on a double date? Danny won’t mind. He’s going to love you.” My heart sinks when I say that last part. Jennifer is a pretty cool chick. I’m sorry to see her go. But, if she can weed out Tess or Rachel, something good might come out of this after all. A small part of me is screaming I doubt it.
Her jade eyes narrow in on mine. I can tell she’s processing this from every angle.
“Done.” She holds her hand out, and we shake on it. This time I don’t want to let go.
She clears her throat. “Um, I saw your records.” She hitches her free thumb back at the stack of albums I have out. “I’m sort of a vinyl girl. You mind if I pick through them?”
“No. In fact, I’ll put one on. Any requests?”
We head over, and she starts perusing the offerings.
/>
“Yes—your favorite. I think someone’s favorite album says a lot about a person. Don’t you?”
“I agree one hundred percent.” I don’t need to rummage through the stack to pluck out my tried-and-true. It’s already on the record player, ready to rumble. “The Beatles.”
“The Beatles?” Her nose wrinkles. That cute smile of hers freezes on her face, and I can’t help but laugh. I don’t remember the last conversation I had about music with a girl, but it’s her genuine emotions, the fact her guard is completely down that gets me. It really goes to show that the girls I’ve been with have not only had a one-track mind, but they were never real around me. I guess I was a means to an end, much like they were for me.
“Yeah, you know the band?” I tap my shoulder to hers as I cue up the music. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of them, or I might have to tie you to the bed and play it over and over again until you’ve memorized the greatest album on the face of the planet.”
“I’ve heard of them,” she drags it out with sarcasm while knocking back into my shoulder. My arm burns long after she pulls away. “Which album?”
“Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Legend has it, The Beatles were tired of being The Beatles. They wanted a change, so this was their way of stepping into someone else’s shoes. Remind you of anyone?”
“Me and you?”
“That’s right. We’re a totally modern Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.”
Jennifer’s entire face lights up, her eyes never leaving mine as she bites down on a smile. “Welcome to the club,” she whispers. “Sounds like I’ll have to add it to my collection out of posterity.”
A moment thumps between us. I reach over and pick up her hand, pressing a lightning quick kiss to the back.
“Serendipity,” I offer, and just like that, the music starts up.
Hold Me Now (A Totally '80s Romance Book 3) Page 7