Zip, Zero, Zilch

by Tammy Falkner

  “What’s wrong?” His brow furrows.

  I look everywhere but at him. “You s-said we wouldn’t t-talk about it.”

  “Oh, crap. I did. I’m sorry.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Do you like pancakes?”

  I open my eyes. “What?”

  He jostles me. “Pancakes. Do you like them?”

  “Doesn’t everybody like p-pancakes?”

  “No. Some people like French toast. Or eggs. Or oatmeal.”

  “P-pancakes are good.”

  “I’ll make pancakes.” He pushes away. But then he suddenly comes back and kisses me. It’s long and hard and I can taste myself on his tongue. “Thank you,” he says.

  I should be thanking him, if I could get my tongue to work. “For what?”

  “For trusting me. For trusting me enough to come here with me. For letting me…do nothing we’re not supposed to talk about.”

  “I don’t know wh-what you’re t-talking about.” I sniff. Because we’re not supposed to talk about it!

  “All I’m going to be able to think about is how you don’t taste, and the noises you don’t make when you come, and the way you didn’t pull my hair or push my face into your pussy.” He kisses my cheek and gets up. The towel that was around his hips is loose, and he lets it fall to the side as he gets up. His ass is naked and he turns slightly. His dick is hard and…pierced. I can’t take my eyes off it.

  “Sorry,” I say, jerking my eyes away when he makes a noise.

  “You can look at me any time you want, cupcake.” He steps into a pair of boxers, grabs his crutches, and hobbles out of the room.

  I relax when I think he’s gone, and I start to replay all the things that just went on in my head, like a loop. He pops his head back into the room. “If you lie there and think about that thing we didn’t just do, you’ll worry yourself sick. So go shower and we’ll have pancakes and not talk about it.” He walks away again. He comes back, kisses me quickly, and says, “Just so you know. That was the best sex I never had.”

  He leaves. I unclench my fists and get up, and then I go take a shower in the hall bathroom, because that’s where all my stuff is.

  I can’t believe I just let him do that.

  Sam

  Holy. Fuck.

  I wasn’t kidding when I said that was the best sex I never had.

  I can still taste her on my lips, all sweet and tangy. I swipe a hand over my mouth, but I really don’t want to wipe it away. I want to keep it. Hell, I want to do it again.

  Watching her come was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. She’s so guarded about her body, and I understand why. Well, sort of. She’s so fucking beautiful. She’s tall¸ and curvy, and her dark hair hangs down her back. I’ve seen her all punked out, and I’ve seen her with no makeup and no artifice, and I like all the different sides of her. I would like to think that the side I’ve seen with her here is the real her, the one that she hides from everyone else. I want to think that she’s learning to let her guard down with me. I want to think that I’ve seen parts of her that no one else has seen.

  She shaves. Totally naked pussy.

  Damn, that was hot.

  I’m never, ever going to be able to get rid of this hard-on if I keep thinking about it. But I can’t stop thinking about it.

  So sweet.

  So open.

  So trusting.

  With the lights on.

  Talking to me the whole time.

  Wet.

  Hot.

  Tight.

  I look down at my boxers, which are tented by my dick. I just came in the shower, and look what she’s done to me.

  I pull the ingredients for pancakes from the cabinet, make the pancakes, and slice some strawberries to add to her plate.

  I can hear her singing in the shower again, and it makes me smile. I put two plates on the table, and warm up some syrup. Then at the last minute, I take out a can of whipped cream. I usually make my own whipped cream, but I’m out of ingredients right now. Mine is better, I have to say.

  I spray a circle mound on top of her pancakes, and step back to admire my work. They look perfect.

  She walks into the kitchen and her eyes avoid mine. She looks everywhere but at me.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  She nods.

  She doesn’t look okay. “Are you sure?”

  She nods again and sits down in front of her plate. “Th-this looks really g-good,” she says quietly.

  A grin tugs at my lips. “Thanks.”

  She picks up her fork, but she still hasn’t even looked at me. Suddenly, she lays it down with a clatter. “You said w-we wouldn’t t-talk about it.”

  “Talk about what?” I can play dumb with the best of them.

  She rests her elbows on the table and buries her face in her palms. “It.”

  “I have no intention of talking about it. In fact, I wish you’d change the subject, because you’re going to offend my delicate sensibilities.” I point to my face. “Is my face red? Blondes blush easily.”

  “I thought that was r-redheads?”

  “Is it?”

  Finally, she looks at me. “You’re not b-blushing.”

  “I don’t have anything to blush about, because nothing happened.”

  Suddenly, my front door opens and my brother Pete comes into the room like someone is chasing him.

  “Dude, don’t you know how to knock?”

  He freezes. “Oops. I didn’t know you had company.” He turns like he’s going to leave.

  “You might as well stay,” I call to him. “You already ruined breakfast.”

  “I’ll stay, but only if you both have clothes on.” Amused, I realize he’s still looking toward the door.

  “We have clothes on, dumbass.” I throw a strawberry at his head.

  “Are you sure, because I remember that time I came home and you were butt naked on the kitchen counter…”

  That was when we were still in high school. I thought I had the apartment to myself for a few minutes. I was wrong. Very wrong. Because all of my brothers came in and caught me with some girl whose name I can’t even remember now.

  “No one is naked. No one is on the kitchen counter.”

  Peck’s face is flaming red. I hold up my hands like I’m surrendering to the cops to ask for her to forgive me in advance.

  “Oh, you made pancakes!” Pete opens my silverware drawer, grabs a fork, and jabs it into my pancakes.

  “Hey!” I put out a hand to block him, but I really don’t care if he eats them. Hell, he can take them with him if he wants to. In fact, I’d make him a doggie bag if he’d leave. “Why are you here?”

  Pete freezes. “Oh, holy shit,” he says. I see him looking at Peck. “Dude, I’m so sorry!” he rushes to say. “I didn’t know it was her.”

  “Who the fuck did you think it would be?”

  He waves a breezy hand in the air. “Anybody else.”

  “There is no one else.” That comes out as a growl, and I meant for it to.

  Peck wipes a drop of syrup from her lip and then licks her finger, and I watch closely. Shit like that makes me squirm when she does it.

  Her thumb starts to tap on the tabletop. “Hey, Pete,” Peck says.

  “Why are you here?” I ask him. He had better have a really good reason for interrupting my perfect morning.

  “Paul sent me.” He talks around a mouth full of pancakes.

  “For?”

  “You’ve got that meeting with the PR people today. I’m going with you. Sky’s going to meet us there.”

  I shake my head. “You are not going with me.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter!”

  “Yeah, but I’m the one who got you in trouble in the first place.” He stops chewing for a second. “If I hadn’t called and made you come to the bar, and then if I hadn’t gotten in the fight, and you hadn’t switched shirts with
Edward… It’s all my fault. I’m going to go and take all the blame.”

  “You think my coach gives a fuck what really happened? You think the PR people care if you caused it all?” I point a finger at him. “And you did cause it all, but it was worth it.” I grumble the last part. It’s true. It was worth it.

  “I’m going.” He glares at me.

  “Don’t make me call Reagan.”

  His face falls. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

  “I would. I’ll tell her to come and get your sorry ass.”

  Reagan is one of the only people in the world he can’t be stubborn with. She always wins. He loves her more than his own life, and everyone knows it.

  He has picked up my plate and is holding it below his chin, shoveling the last of my pancakes into his mouth. “Good pancakes,” he says.

  “I wouldn’t know,” I reply drolly.

  Peck snorts. Damn, that’s a pretty sound.

  Pete points to her plate. “Are you going to eat those?” he asks her.

  She covers her plate with her hand to block his questing fork, but she’s smiling.

  “So you don’t want me to go with you.”

  I throw up my hands. “Didn’t I make that clear?”

  “Will you call me when it’s over and tell me how it goes?”

  “No.”

  “You will so.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  I roll my eyes. “I bet your sisters never act like this asshole,” I tell Peck.

  Tap. Tap. “Are you kidding? They’re a lot worse.”

  “I’m going to use your bathroom,” Pete announces. He doesn’t wait for permission. He just leaves.

  “I’m sorry about that.” That’s Pete, and I can’t explain Pete. I can’t even try.

  “I like him.” She smiles at me. “I like the way you two are with one another.”

  “Are you as tight with your sisters as I am with my brothers?”

  She nods. “Maybe tighter.”

  I shake my head. “Not possible.”

  “We were all each other had for a long time.”

  “Same at our house.” Our mom died when we were really young, and we always thought our dad left, but we found out last year he died, too. He died and someone stuffed his dead body into a freezer.

  She lays down her fork. “I can’t finish this.” She puts a hand on her stomach and groans.

  I hook her plate with a finger and start to eat her pancakes. If I don’t hurry, Pete will come back and I’ll have to fight him for them.

  I’m shoveling the last bite into my mouth when he walks back into the room.

  Peck gets up and clears the table, and then goes down the hallway.

  “What’s she doing here?” Pete whispers vehemently.

  “Eating fucking pancakes!” I hiss back. “Now mind your own business!”

  “You are my business, dumbass.” He shakes his head. “Seriously, did you bang her?”

  “Don’t fucking talk about her like she’s…less than what she is.” I shove his shoulder.

  He whistles. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

  “Fuck you. It’s been like that for a long time. I really like her.”

  He opens my fridge and comes back with a container of yogurt. “I already knew you didn’t bang her.”

  “You did not.”

  “Did so.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Want to know how I knew?” He sings it out like a playful song.

  “No.”

  “Because her damp panties are over the shower bar in the guest bathroom instead of in your bathroom. If you’d slept with her, she’d be washing her unmentionables in your sink.”

  “If they’re unmentionables, then why the fuck are you talking about them?”

  “What did you two do last night?”

  “We watched the cook-off show.”

  “Oh, hell no.” He moans. “You got better game than that! Did I teach you nothing?” He throws his hands up.

  “Yes, you taught me nothing.” I grin at him.

  “What happened after the cook-off show?” He watches my face intently.

  “Nothing. We went to sleep.”

  “You didn’t fuck her.”

  “I already told you I didn’t, and I told you to stop talking about her like that. Now get the fuck out.”

  “Did she sleep in your bed?”

  I draw in a deep breath through my nose.

  “She did. But you didn’t fuck her.”

  He pats my shoulder like I’m a good puppy. “Good boy.”

  “This one matters,” I say quietly.

  “I get it.” He’s serious all of a sudden. Pete may act like a dick, but he’s my brother. He’s my twin. He’s my other half. “This one is special.”

  “I think she likes me.”

  “Don’t fuck it up by being yourself or anything.” He grins and grabs me in a headlock. I can’t fight with him while I’m on crutches. He turns me loose and I hop to get my balance. “I have to go. Reagan wasn’t feeling well when I left home. I think she ate some bad shrimp.”

  “Mm-hmm,” I hum.

  He’s oblivious. Completely. “Call me later?” he says. “Tell me how it goes with the PR people?”

  I nod. “I’ll think about it.”

  He goes toward the door, stops, and flashes me the I love you sign. “Love you, dumbass,” he says. Then he leaves. I should have gotten his key. That would have been smart.

  Peck comes out of her room and she’s carrying her purse. She’s dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and she has makeup on. She’s so pretty. “Did Pete leave?” she asks.

  “He had to go hold Reagan’s hair back while she pukes.”

  “Eww.” She wrinkles her nose.

  “I’m pretty sure she’s pregnant.”

  Her face softens. “Oh,” she breathes out in a happy sigh.

  “Pete doesn’t know it yet.” I laugh. I like knowing something he doesn’t know.

  “Are you sure?”

  I shake my head. “No. But they stopped using condoms when they got married, so one plus one must equal two. Or three, as the case may be.”

  “So, you guys t-talk about that stuff?” she asks. Her voice goes quiet, and she suddenly looks nervous.

  I shrug. “Some of it.”

  “Did you talk about m-me?” She’s almost whispering.

  I walk close enough that my chest brushes hers. I push her hair back behind her ear. “We talked about you.”

  Her eyes jerk up to meet mine. “You told him about this morning?”

  She is flustered all of a sudden, so I feel the intense need to comfort her. “Nothing happened this morning.” Nothing that didn’t rock my world. “I wouldn’t talk with him about that.”

  “But you talk about everything.” Her hand lands on my chest, like she needs to steady herself.

  “I want to hold that close to my heart. Well, that thing we didn’t do, I want to keep it to myself.”

  “You really didn’t tell him?” She looks hopeful.

  I shake my head. “I told him how much I like you.”

  She smiles.

  “Do you like me back?”

  She nods. “I do,” she whispers. “Lots.”

  “I remember when my brothers found the women they were supposed to be with. The moment they met them, they treasured them, their relationship, and the bond between them above all else. We talk, but we don’t cross any lines. I value you. I want you to know how much. I didn’t talk about anything we did together. Nothing.” I lift the edge of her shirt so I can settle my hands on her naked waist, but she pushes my hands away. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t get used to all the touching you do. It’s strange. And makes me feel vulnerable, because my body is far from perfect.”

  It took a lot for her to say that, I can tell. She’s worried about me touching a pudgy spot? Seriously? I live for pudge. Bring it on. “You want me to keep
my hands to myself?”

  She shakes her head. “No.”

  I kiss the tip of her nose. She scrunches up her face, and then brackets my face with her hands, looks into my eyes, and kisses me. Damn, she really kisses me. Her tongue touches mine and I’m almost lost, but then she pulls back and looks at her watch. “I have to go to the studio to meet the Zeroes.”

  “Are you coming back tonight?” I try not to sound too hopeful, but damn it, I am.

  She’s startled. “You don’t want me to?”

  “I want you here every fucking day, cupcake. All the time.”

  She smiles. “Okay,” she whispers. “I have a car waiting outside with a driver. I had better go.”

  I take a key from my junk drawer and press it into her hand. “In case I’m not back yet.”

  “I hope everything goes okay with the team,” she says. Then she slips out the door.

  And that’s when I realize that ever since she came out of the bathroom, she didn’t tap one single time, not even her toes, and she didn’t stutter even the first time. That makes me feel all gooey inside. Gooey and melty and needy.

  God, she’s going to make me need her, and then she’s going to walk away. I can tell.

  ***

  When I get to the Skyscrapers’ office, Sky is waiting out front for me. She has on a business suit, and her hair is in a knot on top of her head. She’s leaning on her hip against a streetlight, the soft swell of her belly evident. “You’re looking a little pregnant, there,” I tell her.

  She smoothes her hand down her stomach. “I know, right? I don’t remember being this big the last time I was five months pregnant, and I had two of them in there.”

  We thought Matt would never be able to have kids, not after the chemo, but now he has five and one on the way. He’s going for a softball team.

  I kiss her on the forehead. “How are you feeling?”

  “Oh, this is the easy part.” She smiles up at me. “How are you?”

  Well, I had Peck in my bed when I woke up, and then she came on my face, and then we had pancakes together. “Great.”

  “And Peck?” She narrows her eyes at me.

  “What about her?”

  She opens the door so I can hobble my way through it. “How is she?”

  I shrug. “Fine, I guess.”

  She shoves my shoulder and almost knocks me off my crutches. “Don’t be evasive with me. We all know she spent the night with you last night.”