Chicks, Man

by J. D. Hollyfield

  “Well, know the offer always stands. We’ll miss you around here. You’re destined to be somebody great. There’s no doubt about that.” My eyes begin to shine with unshed tears. This has been my home for the last four and a half years. This building. This classroom. I blossomed here. Gained my wealth of knowledge. I aspired to be a leader here. And in less than three hours, I’ll be headed back home and my life here will be a thing of the past.

  I jump at Mr. Fischer and hug him tightly. “Thank you,” I reply, hiding the tears that have escaped.

  “Now, now, don’t get all soft on me. Be the Hannah Matthews I watch in the classroom. The fierce, determined young lady who, when she’s in her element, scares me.

  I laugh. “I’m anything but fierce.”

  “I’m only speaking the truth. Make sure to bring out that fierceness more often. Now…” we break apart, “if you don’t get out of here, you’re going to be late for your celebration barbeque.”

  I nod. My parents are throwing me a welcome home/graduation party, and if I don’t get on the road soon, I’ll hit traffic and miss it.

  I say no more, grab my things, exit the law building, and get in my car. I brought most of my things home three weeks ago when I went home for Kipley’s wedding, so whatever was still lingering in my apartment is now stuffed inside my tiny Honda Civic. I toss my computer bag in my passenger seat and climb in. I suck in a deep breath, fighting back the tears as I pull away, the law building soon in my rear-view mirror. Over four years of my life is about to become my past as I indulge in an exciting future at Matthews and Associates. All gassed up and ready to dive into the unknown of the real world, I crank up my music, my favorite chick band blaring from my speakers, and cruise down the highway toward home.

  The past three weeks have been a whirlwind. Between keeping myself busy with my final weeks of my internship and making sure I close this chapter of my life, it’s also been a fighting battle not to replay the memories of my brother’s wedding. Specifically, the night in the supply closet with him.

  Levi Dent.

  The second the door opens, I bolt. I shouldn’t have said anything—should have kept the silent act going. But then, what was going to happen once we left that room? How was he not going to acknowledge it was me? I didn’t think that far ahead when I put this whole plan in motion.

  I make it down the hallway, catching a glimpse of a silhouette standing outside the supply closet before whipping around the corner and slamming into someone. Kipley wraps his arms around my shoulders, catching me before I go down.

  “Hey, slow down, little sister. Where you off to in such a hurry?” I look up to see my brother smiling, his cheeks flushed and eyes confirming he’s been a bit overserved.

  “Uh…nothing. I…uh, I need to pee. Really bad.” I try wiggling out of his grip, my panic rising.

  “You’re going the wrong way. The bathroom is this way.” He attempts to twirl me back to where I just came from. Fear rises in my throat. If I don’t free myself from Kipley’s grip, I’m done for. I can’t let Levi catch up to me.

  “Geez, kiddo. Why so feisty? Hey, Levi, can you show my sister—”

  I kick my brother as hard as I can in the shin.

  “Ouch! Shit, what the hell did you do that for?”

  I don’t answer because I’m already running past him into the banquet room. I get lost on the dance floor and pop out on the opposite side. I weave through family and strangers, thankfully exiting out the side door. My heart races so fast, I worry it’s going to jump out of my chest. I run down the hallway to the stairwell, not bothering with the elevator. I climb up five flights before my lungs finally give out and I collapse against the cement wall.

  Bringing my hands up, I run them through my hair, wiping the thin layer of sweat building on my forehead. My hands shake as I attempt to pull my hair into a ponytail, not caring it’ll mess up my ridiculous hairstyle, then place my palms over my beating heart.

  “Holy cow,” I pant, trying to catch my breath.

  I did it.

  “Holy flipping cow!” I begin to laugh at myself. I just had sex with Levi Dent. I shake my head, my laughter transforming into more of a cackle. The sound of a door opening a few flights below me has me throwing my hands over my mouth, holding my breath. The clanking of heels hitting the concrete stairs, and I continue to hold my breath while they make it to the floor below me and exit to the floor.

  I slide down the wall, taking in a deep breath. My legs are still shaking. I close my eyes, the blackness a reminder of the supply closet. I wrap my arms around my stomach, brushing against my tender breasts. I bring my knees up to my chest, the soreness between my legs prominent. I can still feel his strong hands all over my body, raking over my skin. With every touch, squeeze, pinch, he brought me to places I’ve never been. His seductive words set my skin on fire. His lips were so soft and greedy as he kissed, sucked, bit. The feel of him inside me, his moans, his praises…it was more than I could ever fantasize. Better.

  I didn’t want it to end. I could have stayed in that closet forever.

  But then, he had to bring reality to its head. He asked for more. I was right when I said I didn’t think past getting Levi in that room. I didn’t think how I would get out of the room without exposing myself. But I knew once those words left his lips, I was already caught. He wasn’t going to allow me to slip through without being identified.

  God, I wish I could have told him it was me without judgement.

  But that was just a fantasy.

  So I ran.

  The doors open again, and laughter echoes throughout the stairwell. I jump to my feet and run two more flights before I exit onto the seventh floor and run to my room.

  The drive home is quick. I got on the road in time to miss the mid-afternoon traffic. Downloading an audiobook the night before kept my attention. Pulling into my childhood neighborhood, I take a left onto Clinton Street and wave at Mr. Johansson, our old science teacher from high school. The sun is out, and the trees are in full bloom. Growing up in an older neighborhood, the trees are thick and overgrown, creating a beautiful tunnel of greenery. Taking a right onto Fairview, my house comes into view and I groan at the cars lined up down the street. “Small family party my butt,” I mutter.

  I park my car in the driveway and spot Stacey’s car and my brother’s Tahoe first. I haven’t talked to him since the wedding. To be on the safe side, I was up early and gone before anyone saw me. I texted Mom telling her I had to get back to school and skip the champagne brunch. My brother called a few times before he left for his honeymoon, but I declined each one. I couldn’t bear to answer any questions or have him yell at me for what I did.

  But his messages were always kind. And no mention of Levi. He didn’t know. Levi didn’t tell. But why?

  As much as it ate at me wondering, there was no way I was going to dig into the whys. I needed to leave it alone. Avoid. Deny. Ignore.

  I grab for my computer bag and jump out of my car. I trek up the driveway, enjoying Mom’s hibiscuses blooming gorgeously. Opening the front door, my mom spots me instantly.

  “My baby is home!” she yells, scurrying toward me and pulling me into her motherly hug. “Congrats, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

  I wiggle out of her hold. “Thanks, Mom. I thought you said family only,” I mutter low. There are way more people than expected.

  She lifts her arm to wave off the crowd. “Everyone is family. And here to celebrate you. You’re right on time. Dad just put the burgers on. Come.” She wraps her arm around my waist, dragging me through the house to the backyard. The moment my dad sees me, he starts hollering.

  “The graduate returns!” He laughs, bringing me in for his big dad bear hug. He kisses me on my head. “Welcome back, baby girl. Mom and I couldn’t be prouder of you.” I wrap my arms around him and close my eyes, trying to ward off the tears. I love my dad. He’s been my mentor for as far back as I can remember. I’ve wanted to follow in his footsteps since I unders
tood what lawyer meant. And to imagine I’ll be working at the company he built from the ground up makes me shine with pride.

  “Thanks, Daddy.” He offers me one more kiss to my temple and releases me.

  “Perfect timing. Burgers are almost done. Get a drink, say hello to your grandmother and Aunt Getty.” He goes back to tend to the grill as I reach for the cooler on the patio and grab a cold beer.

  I spend the next ten minutes listening to my grandma complain about her arthritis, and then Aunt Getty who felt it necessary to tell me she’s been constipated for three whole days now. Kipley thankfully saves me by snatching me away and pulling me into his chest, messing up my hair. I try to swat him off, but since I’m like a little mouse compared to him, it’s useless.

  “Look who’s home. Congrats, little sis.” He smiles, lifting me up and spinning me.

  “Kip, put me down,” I whine, hating that he always has to treat me like a little kid. He does as I ask, but goes back to messing up my hair. “Kip, stop,” I groan again. I don’t have the perfect hair genes like Kip and everyone else. I was blessed with Grandma’s wild genes, and my hair is always a frizzy disaster. My school schedule had been so hectic, I never had a chance to do anything but wrap it up in a messy bun, but today, I took the time to flat iron it. I would prefer my brother not turn my head into a beehive before I say hello to all our guests.

  “Sorry. I forget you’re not so little anymore. My baby sister is all grown up.” I pull away and catch his happy grin. Marriage definitely looks good on him. I’m glad he’s happy. It makes me feel guilty for not saying goodbye after his wedding. He may not care, but I owe Stacey an apology. Kip lets me go when an old neighbor starts up a conversation with him. I tell him I’m going to go find Stacey and head back toward the house as the back-screen door opens—and my jaw drops to the ground.

  Levi Dent.

  Shoot.

  Levi

  Three goddamn weeks. That’s how long the night in the supply closet has been playing through my mind. The anger hasn’t dimmed. The confusion is still in full-force. The memory of what happened is so fresh, I can still smell her.

  My anger erupted when I connected that once familiar voice to a name, feeling the kick straight to my gut and balls. I’d been tricked. The fury of what my friends tricked me into caused a murderous fog inside my head. I was going to kill them. I was also going to kill Hannah for going along with it. Before I had the chance to drag her back and scream bloody murder, she kicked me. Fucking kicked me and ran off. I took off after her, stumbling a few times over my own damn two feet. The realization of what had happened sobered me up real fast, and the second I saw Kip holding his sister, I knew I was in deep shit. Chase and Ben might have thought this was a great joke, but Kip wouldn’t. He was going to kill me. My friend since before puberty, and in a matter of seconds, he was going to find out what I did and kill me.

  But she didn’t say a word. She seemed to have a thing for kicking and did the same injustice to her brother, then took off running. When I made it to Kip, he swung his arm over my shoulder and gave me the drunk “best bud” speech. From over his shoulder, I watched Rebecca storm out of a room down the hallway toward us. The second Kip released me, she slapped me, shouting how much of an asshole I was for standing her up and making her wait. How dare I send her to a room to wait for no reason. Murderous rage gleamed in her eyes, but I was confused. I stood her up?

  Then it clicked.

  I stared past her, in the direction she ran off to, putting it all together.

  Ben’s comment.

  Change of plans, three doors to the right, not left.

  Hannah Matthews.

  She lied and set me up.

  My expression shifted, matching Rebecca’s. Her pursed lips smacked together, her voice, like nails on a chalkboard, suggesting we fulfill the deal, which I replied to with a big fuck no. God, if I would have screwed that bitch, I would have been even more furious with my friends. But I can’t grasp what was worse: banging bitch Rebecca or Hannah fucking Matthews.

  I went back to the bar and drank more, trying to pretend none of it had ever happened, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get the taste of her off my mind. It was like I could still smell her sweet perfume, her sweet sex. Hear her sweet moans. Feel her soft, sweet skin. I was so confused how I just had the best sex in I couldn’t even fathom how long, and it had been with her. And I fucking loved it. The way her tiny body fit seamlessly around me, her legs, her arms—it all was perfect. I couldn’t stop replaying the moment I’d pushed inside her, how tight she was, how warm and wet. Her body succumbed to me, begging for everything I gave her. I couldn’t stop drinking, trying to erase what I had done, while wishing never to forget how wonderful it was. Needless to say, in due time, my confusion dimmed. Because I blacked out.

  She was in the wind the next day. I heard her mother say she had to get back to school. But that was bullshit. She would never miss out on anything for Kipley. She loved her brother. It had to do with her little scheme.

  I had been torn on what to do. When the guys asked me how Rebecca was, I told them I’d backed out, choosing not to mention the Hannah incident. I couldn’t work it out, so I definitely didn’t need them to fuck with me about it. Let alone have it slip out to Kip and sign my death warrant. So I kept it to myself.

  The problem was, as the days passed, I couldn’t keep it to myself. I needed answers. I needed to understand why in the hell she set me up. I dreamed about finding her and strangling her. Then I fantasized about taking her roughly again and again, sucking on those plump lips, pinching those perfect nipples. I found myself beating off more than I wanted to admit to the memory. Then getting angrier after the fact. I was going to have it out with Hannah Matthews. It was just a waiting game. She was coming home soon. And I would get answers.

  Today, the Matthews’ are throwing their youngest child a welcome home and graduation party. Kip mentioned it would be family and some friends, lowkey, but I insisted on coming to show my support for his little sis. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

  As I walk through the back door, it’s no surprise she’s the first person I spot. What catches me off guard is the way lust clouds into my anger. Losing my focus, I stop in my tracks, intrigued by the panic prominent in her eyes. Her lips part as she takes me in, and she almost drops her beer. Fumbling with the bottle, she surveys the yard in search of an escape I’m sure.

  Her eyes come back to mine. I take one step into the Matthews’ backyard, and she takes off, speed-walking to the other side. I fight not to go after her. I won’t leave until she gives me the answers I want, but I don’t want to attract attention, so I let her run and hide.

  “Hey, you made it.” I follow that familiar voice, seeing Kip with Stacey on his arm. I offer him a smile and reach in for our man-hug.

  “Yeah, wouldn’t miss it. Hey, Stacey. You look amazing as always.” I lean in and place a gentle kiss to her cheek.

  “Oh, stop. I look fat already. Married life doesn’t lie when they say eat, drink, and be merry.”

  Kip laughs, bringing his lips to his wife’s head. “You’re gorgeous. So, how’s work? I hear you’re going above and beyond the expectations. Congrats, man.”

  I shrug off Kip’s compliment. “Thanks. I think I’m holding my own. The workload’s been heavy, which I enjoy, and the hours late, but it’s the only way I’m going to get ahead.” I wouldn’t lie and say work has been easy. The law firm has been insanely consuming since coming on board six months ago, but I wouldn’t expect anything less. I also embrace the distraction. My focus is work. As it should be.

  “Well, all power to you. I hear the boss is a total ball-buster.” We both laugh, and another old family friend catches Kip’s attention. I wave them off, letting them know I’ll catch up with them later. I say hello to Grandma May Matthews and a few more familiar faces, luckily avoiding Kip’s Aunt Getty. The last family party I attended, she caught me in a forty-five-minute conversation rant about her bladder
infection and exactly how she thought she got it.

  I’m two beers in when I catch sight of her again. Dressed in a plain white summer dress exposing her tan legs, she’s hugging a neighbor while scanning the backyard. She doesn’t see me, since I’m blocked by a group of family friends. Thinking she’s in the clear, I watch her excuse herself and walk into the house, and I follow.

  Just as I step through and close the door, I reach for her. Her squeal is loud, but cute. This time, she does drop her beer. Stepping over it, I pull her down the small hallway off the kitchen and stop once we hit the laundry room. I push her back against the wall, meeting her wide-as-fuck eyes.

  “Hello, Hannah,” I say, my voice low. Her face instantly pales. Good. She better be scared of me. Her chest rises and falls in quick pants. Her lips part, and I find myself staring at her mouth, wondering if her lips taste like cherries and beer. But then I remember her deceit, and my anger kicks back in. “Have anything to say to me?” I ask in a cool tone.

  Her head begins to shake. “Um…no…I—no. Why would I?”

  “No apology for tricking me?”

  Her color returns as her cheeks flush. “What? I…um, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I place each hand on the wall, caging her in. Leaning forward, the smell of flowers and vanilla assaults me. For a quick moment, my anger dissipates, reminding me of her addictive scent. My closeness is making her extremely uncomfortable. Her cheeks flare and her body trembles. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, and I want an answer on why the fuck you tricked me.”

  My words come out harsh, but dammit, I’m pissed. No—I’m angry. Her mouth opens, then closes, her words stuck in her throat. There’s no way out of this, and she’s coming to realize it.

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Did Kip tell you this was going to be some other kind of party? Yeah, so boring. Family and all. But please, stay for the burgers. My dad is great with the grill—”