Blue Balls

by RC Boldt

  Also, I’m certain we’re officially BFFs now. She’s got a keen eye for fashion, not to mention she clinked her glass against mine after whispering a “Way to go on snagging Hottie McHottieson.”

  “Oh, and the bride and her crew up there,” Randi leans in, lowering her voice as she fills us in on more family gossip, “used to get off on making fun of me when I first started painting my nails and experimented with makeup.” She takes a sip of water before continuing. “They were a whole different brand of cruelty.”

  I lay a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Randi.”

  She shrugs. “It’s in the past now. But this”—she waves with her fork toward the scene at the front of the banquet room—“this makes it worth the three hundred bucks I spent for a flight up here.” Another shrug. “Those two are meant to be together, though. I have no doubt they’ll be fine. But make no mistake”—Randi levels a look on Jack and me—“that was only the tip of the drama iceberg tonight. There’s more to come for these families.”

  And hell if she wasn’t completely right.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Sarah

  “Well, that was certainly an interesting evening,” Jack says with a sigh as we sit in the back of the Uber car on our way back from the wedding reception.

  Snickering at the memory, I shake my head. “I’m not sure what the craziest part was.”

  “The Manga rehab? Or maybe the ‘banging of the Asian’ the night before?” he suggests helpfully.

  “Or”—I draw out the word—“it could be when the groom’s father stood to say that it hadn’t been Donny, but him with the Asian woman.”

  “Ah, that’s right.” The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Don’t know how I could forget that confession.”

  “That back there”—I toss a thumb in the general direction of where the reception took place—“was better than binge watching all the housewives of whichever city on Bravo any day of the week. Phew.”

  Leaning my head back, I let my eyes fall closed. I still feel exhaustion lingering from my shifts at work, and my tone is weary. “Even though Jen and Donny seemed to mend their differences quickly, moments like that reaffirm why I’m opposed to marriage.”

  There’s silence throughout the vehicle, aside from the faint sound of the music playing in the front nearby the driver. Jack’s quiet for so long I’m startled when he finally speaks.

  “You don’t want to ever get married?”

  It’s not so much his question as it is the way he asks it that makes me open my eyes, fixing my gaze on him. His tone is gentle yet inquisitive with a touch of something else I can’t decipher.

  With a humorless smile, I blow out a short breath. “My father left long ago. He and my mom would have arguments, and then, one day, he just disappeared. He didn’t even stick around to try to fight for her—for their marriage. And well”—I lift a shoulder in a half shrug—“you’ve met my mother.” Turning my eyes down to where my fingers fiddle with the clasp on my purse, I add, “It’s as if she’s continuously trying to find herself and turn into someone else to please each guy she’s with.”

  “But Maggie and Ry…”

  “Maggie and Ry are clearly an exception.” My tone comes out sharper than I intend. Attempting to soften it, I offer a tight smile. “They’re obviously perfect for one another; like two peas in a pod.”

  Jack’s eyes study me in the darkened interior of the vehicle. “Maybe you just haven’t met your other half yet.”

  Before I can respond, the driver pulls up to the curb in front of my apartment. Jack gets out, coming around to open my door, and helps me out. Sticking his head back inside to murmur something to the driver, he turns and walks me up to the entrance of my building.

  Stepping closer, he brings his hands up to gently cradle my face. The look in his blue eyes mesmerizes me as his head descends, kissing me with such a sweet reverence it makes my chest tighten. Once his lips part from mine, his thumbs dust softly along my cheekbones.

  “Good night, Sunshine.” He releases me and walks back over to the vehicle.

  “But wait,” I sputter, watching him in confusion. He turns with one hand braced on top of the open door. “You’re not…coming inside?”

  The smile he gives is one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not tonight.” He winks. “Rest up, Sunshine.” And he quickly slips inside, closing the door behind him, the tinted rear windows preventing me from seeing him.

  Spinning around, I punch in the code for my door, and once it unlocks, I slip inside. I hear the telltale sound of the Uber driver pulling away from the curb once I’m safely inside my building. For whatever reason, I don’t turn back but head toward the elevator to take me to my floor.

  As I ride up to the third floor to my apartment, an unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach still lingers.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Jack

  “She blatantly said she’s not interested in marriage.” I hit the ball with far more force than necessary, volleying it back to Ry.

  He returns it flawlessly. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

  “What do you mean? Are you not listening to me? She’s anti-marriage.” My jaw clenches in frustration as my racquet connects with the ball.

  “I heard you loud and clear. But,” he says with far more patience, “where’s the Jack I had when I thought about giving up when things went to shit with Maggie?”

  “Not the same.”

  “Isn’t it?” He raises his eyebrows at me, continuing to return my angry, forceful serves and returns with ease.

  “What the hell? You come back from your honeymoon with some super-human strength or something?”

  He merely grins, his white teeth contrasting more deeply against his lingering tan. “It’s what good love from a good woman will do.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I mutter.

  As we finish our game, he collects the ball, bouncing it and catching it. “Look, you wouldn’t have let me give up on Maggie, would you?”

  “Not a chance.” My response is immediate because anyone with half a brain and eyes could see the two of them were perfect for one another. “But this is different.”

  “How so?”

  Tapping my racquet against my palm in thought, I roll my lips inward as I try to explain. “Sarah’s not on the same page—”

  “So bring her up to speed.”

  “And she’s anti-marriage.”

  “You can change her mind on that.”

  “And she doesn’t…” I can’t even bring myself to say it aloud. Even to my best friend.

  “Hey.” My eyes lift to Ry’s as we both head toward the locker room. “Do you honestly believe she doesn’t have feelings for you?”

  Shoving open the door, I wind around the corner to our lockers. As grateful as I am that we’re the only two guys in this row, I still lower my voice. My words come out sounding terse. “Does she have feelings for me? Sure. She especially likes my dick.” I dial the combination on the lock before tugging the bottom and opening the locker. “And my mouth. End of story.” I kick off my shoes and socks and stuff them into my locker, my shirt following suit.

  “That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

  After extracting my body wash and flip-flops, I shove my locker closed with more force than necessary. “Look, I get what you’re trying to do, but you and I both know that sometimes the guy doesn’t get the girl in the end.” I head toward the showers.

  “But the guy doesn’t usually throw in the towel before giving it his all either,” Ry calls out after me.

  Spinning around, I pin him with a stare. “You’re saying I should go all in and just”—I wave a hand—“see what happens?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Then she’ll be missing out on the best damn thing to happen to her,” Ry finishes.

  We stand silent, facing one another for a beat before the corners of my lip
s tip up slightly.

  “Ah, pumpkin pie. You’re still sweet on me, aren’t you?” I can’t help it. I have to bust his balls because I can’t take this dreary mood hanging over us.

  He whips out his towel, snapping it against my ass. “Damn straight, hot stuff.”

  “Oh, uh, I’ll wait to shower after you guys are done.” Ry and I both turn to see a slightly shorter blond-haired man turn and dart down the nearest row of lockers.

  Ry shakes his head with a chuckle. “Not everyone can understand our love, Jack.”

  Shoving him in the shoulder, I head to the shower. “Ain’t that the truth, cupcake.”

  * * *

  Sarah and I decided to meet for a drink midweek after work. When they didn’t have any available tables at Max Londons, and the wait time was atrocious, we settled for two seats near the corner of the bar.

  Taking a sip of wine, she swallows and her expression lights up. “Hey, do you want to go apple picking and to a corn maze with me on Sunday? I’m off work.”

  “Are we going to drink fresh apple cider and eat homemade apple cider donuts?”

  “Of course.”

  “Count me in. Also, I have to say that I find it ironic we’re going to go to a corn maze and the fact that”—I lean toward her for added emphasis—“corn actually is maize.”

  “My mind is blown,” she deadpans.

  Nudging her shoulder with mine, I give her a playful wink. “I’m going to wear you down, Sunshine, and get you to fall for me. You’ll see.”

  “That so?” Her eyes are alit with amusement because she obviously thinks I’m joking.

  Grinning, I continue. “Oh, I plan to wear you down until you fall in love with me. I’ll keep chipping away at those protective walls around your heart, true erosion hard at work, until you give in and realize you love me back.”

  Raising my glass of beer, I tip it slightly in her direction for a toast. “To erosion,” I say.

  When she gently taps her wine glass against it, she has an amused smirk. “To erosion.” She laughs.

  She has no idea how serious—how determined—I am to wear her down. Because even after all our shenanigans and sexual mishaps, one thing is blatantly—albeit fucking screwy—apparent.

  If I have to suffer blue balls for the rest of my life, there’s no other woman I want by my side.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Sarah

  “I always wanted to have the whole ‘Have you seen the way he looks at her?’ kind of love. And I feel like I have that with Ry.” Maggie’s face has that concentrated look with the tiny crease between her brows. “And I will do everything it takes to make that continue.” Her entire face brightens, and a dreamy, contented smile spreads across her face. Her skin still has a nice tanned glow from her honeymoon with Ry.

  Since I didn’t have to work this weekend, we’d planned some girl time to catch up on episodes of Kimmy Schmidt. But I couldn’t get through more than five minutes before my words burst free. Everything bubbled over, and I’ve just finished telling her about Jack’s joking the other night about the whole “erosion” topic.

  “The thing is…” She pulls up one leg, placing her foot flat on the couch cushion and wraps her arms around it. Propping her chin on her upright knee, Maggie regards me carefully. “Jack’s a good guy—we all know that. But I think you might have thrown him off by coming out and announcing you’re not into marriage.”

  “But—”

  She holds up a hand to stop me. “According to Ry, Jack’s never been like this—the way he is with you—with any other woman. Which means he has pretty serious feelings for you.” Her eyes widen dramatically before she announces in a loud whisper, “Like maybe he really likes you and wants to go steady.” Maggie claps a hand over her mouth on a loud, exaggerated gasp, promptly getting one of the throw pillows hurled at her.

  “Stop it.” I roll my eyes in dismissal.

  Replacing the throw pillow on the couch, Maggie tips her head to the side thoughtfully. “But, Sarah, what if he’s serious about this whole erosion talk?”

  Abruptly sliding off the couch, I begin to pace. “I just…no. Jack can’t possibly have serious feelings for me. I mean, come on.” Throwing up my hands in exasperation, I add, “It’s not like we’ve even had a full sexual experience together, for God’s sake!”

  “You and I both know that’s not everything,” Maggie states calmly.

  “He’s never said the L-word, at least not in a serious way, either. I mean, no…” Is it just me or is my voice sounding high pitched and slightly panicked?

  “Yet.”

  “Maggie!” I throw up my arms. “You are supposed to be calming me down. Instead, you’re inciting more panic.” I press two fingers to the side of my throat. “My pulse is crazy right now.” Narrowing my eyes, I add, “Because of you and your talk of madness.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. Because, yeah. What a gem of a best friend. She’s so supportive.

  “Sarah, your pulse is racing because I’m being honest with you. You have feelings for him, and he has feelings for you.” Exhaling a long breath, she adds with a wave of her hand, “Then you discover you love one another and live happily ever after.” She springs up from the couch and tosses her hands in the air. “Confetti everywhere! The entire city of Saratoga Springs will rejoice!”

  Do you hear that sound? That’s the sound of my best friend getting kicked to the curb.

  “And then”—yes, Maggie continues—“they’ll have parades and, ooh!” Her eyes light up excitedly, and quite honestly, she’s getting a little too carried away here. “There might even be Clydesdales. And they’ll ride right down South Broadway, and everyone will celebrate…” Maggie tips her head to the side, face scrunching in thought. “Wait. What are we celebrating again?”

  I can’t. I. Just. Can’t.

  “Happily ever after for me and Jack,” I supply in absolute monotone. Doesn’t faze my friend, though. Not one iota.

  “Right!” Her face brightens as she continues with her little imaginary parade details. I merely sit back on the couch with a long sigh and prop my chin in my hand. She’ll eventually tire of these plans.

  I hope.

  * * *

  “Tell me again how we transitioned from a parade through downtown Saratoga Springs to you and me getting crazy on a girls’ night out?” I flash Maggie an amused look as we wait for our drinks at the bar.

  She waited for Ry to get home, and he, being the great guy he is, agreed that Maggie and I should head out on the town. Ry said he’d gladly be our chauffeur for the night if we needed him. Knowing Maggie and myself and the fact we’re both mega lightweights when it comes to holding our liquor, this night could only go two ways. It could end with us having two drinks tops and then people watching until the terribly late (notice the sarcasm there) hour of nine o’clock at night.

  Two wild and crazy girls, that’s us.

  Or the other possibility—which has probably less than a two percent chance of happening—is that Maggie and I will get crazy and take downtown Saratoga Springs by storm. That’s not especially likely considering the fact Maggie and I are the equivalent of two young grandmothers who fantasize about getting into their PJs and lounging around the house with a glass of wine and a snack by seven o’clock in the evening.

  But wonders never cease because here we are, in the middle of one of the more popular downtown bars, all dolled up, makeup near perfect, and wearing our favorite jeans that make us feel skinny, paired with tiny tops.

  You know what I mean. Women all have that one pair of jeans, that one top, and that one pair of shoes that magically transform how you feel, transform your attitude. That’s what we’re working with tonight, and I can’t lie; it feels good. Just me and my best friend.

  Oh, and about a hundred of our “closest friends.”

  “Oooh!” Maggie squeals, tossing back shot who-knows-what-number, and drags me to the center of the dance floor for a Miley Cyrus song.

  Go ah
ead. Do it. You know you want to break out the judgy eyes on us, but you can’t tell me that you can hear Miley’s “We Can’t Stop” or “Party in the USA” and resist tapping your toe, at the very least. If you try to claim a firm “no,” I will promptly call BS on that noise.

  Dancing horribly—which is the only way Maggie and I dance, by the way—and singing at the top of our lungs, we are having the time of our lives, and not once does it cross our mind that we’re going to be total hot messes by the end of the night. Because, let’s be honest. When you and your best friend continue yelling over the loud volume of the dance club, “Best night EV-ER!” to one another, there’s absolutely no room for regrets.

  Somehow, as the night carries on, so do the drinks. Which can mean only one possibility when it comes to us.

  Shenanigans galore.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Sarah

  “I’ve got a secret,” Maggie says, leaning toward me clumsily.

  We’re currently lounging on one of the plush loveseats placed on the outskirt of the large dance floor, far enough away from the speakers so we can manage to hear one another speak without having to shout.

  In a dramatic declaration, she leans her forehead on my shoulder. “I’m wrecked.” She lets out a long-drawn-out sigh. “So, so wrecked.”

  “Is the room slightly spinny?” I murmur, more to myself than to Maggie.

  “I sent Ry a sext.” Maggie’s face transforms into a wide smile. “I said, ‘Pick me up from the bar and take me home or lose me forever.’”

  “Nice Top Gun reference there.” I nudge her shoulder with mine.

  “What’d you send Jack?” She eyes me expectantly.

  Narrowing my gaze, I frown. “Why do you think I’d send him a text?”

  Of course, she just gives me one of those looks. Because, yeah. Best friends. There’s no bullshitting them.