Ridorkulous (Dorky Duet Book 1)

by Mary Frame

  We stare at each other, listening to muffled laughter and drunken talk in the background. A soothing voice is murmuring to Abby, telling her to leave with them.

  Thank God.

  My gaze narrows on Reese.

  She was right. Abby does crave attention, and if she knew I was in here with Reese, she woulda been more stubborn than me.

  “You know Abby almost better than I do.”

  She shrugs and glances away. “You learn a lot when you live with someone.”

  It makes me wonder exactly what her experience was, living with Abby. Did Abby ever even mention her roommate? I have a vague recollection of her complaining about living with a weirdo, how it sucked to bunk with a troll, but she would probably get the girl to move out.

  And now I have to wonder, just how horrible was Abby to Reese?

  I’m about to ask, but she speaks first.

  “You’ll find someone else. Someone better.”

  I chuckle without mirth. She’s reassuring me when she’s the one who’s been treated badly. By me and by Abby. “I thank you for the compliment, but I can’t imagine it. I wouldn’t know what to do. I’ve never had any other girlfriends. It’s hard to imagine being with someone else.”

  “I can’t imagine it either.”

  I tilt my head. “No long-term boyfriends?”

  Her laugh is quick and shocked. “No.”

  Wait. I laser in on her eyes. “Does that mean . . . I mean, have you ever— No, never mind, it’s none of my business.”

  She pulls the pillow into her lap and then fidgets with the edge of the pillowcase fabric. “You’ve seen me. I can barely talk to people. What makes you think I could reach the point of . . . making out with someone or whatever?”

  I struggle to hide my shock, schooling my features to remain impassive. Make out? I was thinking she’s a virgin, not that she’s literally never been kissed. I mean, even middle schoolers play spin the bottle. But . . . nothing? I don’t know how to respond, and I definitely don’t want to ask her to clarify. As a matter of fact, the knowledge she’s so untouched makes her even more attractive. Undeniable heat fills my stomach.

  What does that say about me? I’m a Neanderthal. This isn’t the Victorian era. Humanity has progressed somewhat since the cave-man days. I think. No doubt I’ve become so used to Abby’s poor treatment that Reese’s careful approach makes her even more tempting. The whole thing is so confusing, I’m completely discombobulated and it’s the only excuse for what I say next.

  “You’re not unattractive.”

  She laughs. “Wow. Thanks.”

  “That’s not what . . . not what I meant. I think you’re very pretty. When you let people see you. It’s just, I don’t know.” I’m being a dick. Again. “It’s like you prefer to be invisible.”

  Her brows lift. “How do you know?”

  “The bushes are your favorite part of this house. I’m going to start calling you bush lady.”

  She laughs. “I’ll ask you not to mention anything about me and my bush in the same sentence, thank you very much.”

  “Oh wow.” A startled laugh breaks out of me and I fall back on the bed in fake shock. “You made a joke about pubes. I can’t believe it. I’m dead.”

  She’s laughing and turning red and I wonder what she would say if I offered to be her first kiss, but then I push the thought away.

  Ridiculous.

  Besides, we hate each other.

  Don’t we?

  10

  Life is not a spectator sport. If you’re going to spend your whole life in the grandstand just watching what goes on, in my opinion you’re wasting your life.

  —Jackie Robinson

  Reese

  It’s so warm and comfortable I don’t want to move. Like I’m sleeping in a perfectly warm stove. Except the stove is only at my back. And around my waist.

  And there’s a calm wind pulsing against my neck.

  No. Not wind.

  Puffs of air, gentle ones. Breaths. Someone is breathing. Against my neck.

  I open my eyes to a blank white wall beginning to glow with the rays of sun filtering through the small window.

  I’m at Jude’s. Lying in the narrow bed. There’s a wall of smooth heat at my back and an arm around my torso, tethering me in place.

  A strong, lean, muscular arm.

  Holy Pythagoras.

  I’m sleeping with Fitz.

  He’s spooning me.

  What do I do?

  My heart accelerates in my chest like a drum beat so loud and hard he’s gotta hear it. It’s like a game of Jumanji is about to start in here.

  Before I can decide to move or not to move, the choice is taken from me.

  His phone buzzes across the hard surface of the nightstand and he immediately rolls away, taking the heat with him.

  He fumbles and the phone abruptly ceases its bleating tone.

  I screw my eyes shut and don’t move a single muscle.

  “Sorry.” His whispered voice is a raspy murmur in the muted daylight.

  My mouth is dry. I swallow but don’t have a chance to speak.

  “I have a race.” The bed dips and lifts as he gets to his feet.

  The dresser opens, clothes rustling, but still I don’t look.

  “I’m sorry I . . . I sort of took over your room on a night you won.” He’s still whispering, like he wants to talk to me but isn’t sure I’m awake.

  Is he apologizing because he regrets falling asleep with me? Like I must be some kind of monster to sleep with or something? Maybe I stink. This whole thing is weird and awkward and exactly why I don’t interact with people. What would a normal person do in this situation?

  Probably not what I’m doing, which is remaining silent.

  Fitz speaks again. “I’m running late but . . . ah, I’ll see you later.”

  It’s not until he’s shut the door behind him that I relax.

  He has to think I’m the biggest freak.

  I can’t believe we slept together, wrapped up like a double helix.

  I’ve never done that with anyone. If I had more time, maybe I could have enjoyed the sensation instead of getting tense and strange and anxious.

  He was so warm. I’ve never felt breath on the back of my neck. Never had strong arms around me, like they wanted to be there. I wish I could have hung on to the moment a little bit longer—lord knows when I’ll have the opportunity again. Would it be weird to ask to cuddle?

  Definitely weird. Especially since if I do get the chance again, I’ll probably just make it creepy.

  I roll over and attempt to fall back asleep but the sheets smell like Fitz, deodorant, and fresh air. Homey and comfortable.

  And now I’m definitely awake and not going back to sleep.

  Might as well brave the rest of the house. I imagine it’s a mess after last night.

  But once I’m up and out, I’m surprised to find that while there are a few errant cups and pig noses left behind, it’s mostly clean.

  How does Jude do it?

  Beast is in the kitchen. He hands me a mug full of hot coffee as soon as I enter.

  “Y’all are magicians or something.” I take the cup from him. “Thank you.”

  I move to the living room, sitting in the bay window, watching the birds chirp outside while I drink my coffee in the silence and let my thoughts tumble around.

  Now that I’ve had a chance to talk to Fitz about Abby, I can see how hard it must have been for him to give her up, maybe not relationship-wise, but to lose a lifetime of friendship.

  No wonder he kept her around for so long. Plus it seems Abby did her best to hide her true colors around Fitz. I’m surprised she got away with it as long as she did. Cheetahs can’t change their stripes—as Granny always says. The truth outs always, eventually.

  His will to stick is admirable, but it also means he won’t give up on the room until the bitter end. My stomach sinks. One of us will have to leave when the games are over. It’s not going to b
e easy to beat Fitz, but I’m not gonna give up either.

  While the house is still quiet, I call Granny.

  “Yep,” she answers.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Tootsie Roll, you comin’ over for supper?”

  “It is Sunday. Why wouldn’t I be there?” I haven’t ever missed a Sunday supper at home. It’s tradition.

  “I thought you might have a bee in your bonnet over the whole gun thing.”

  “No. It’s fine. I might bring a friend too.” Annabel wanted to hang out later, but maybe I can get her to come to dinner.

  “Well, that’s all right then. You bring as many friends as you like.”

  We hang up and I get back to my coffee and thinking about my conversation with Fitz last night.

  What do I want to do? What makes me feel . . . excited?

  I grab a notebook from my bag and sit back down and make a list, like he suggested.

  Number one is easy. I definitely want to do something where I can continue to learn new things. But beyond that . . . I bite my lip and doodle in the margins. I like math. I write it down. Science. History. Literature. Writing. Oh, dear this is getting too long. And how can I possibly put them in any kind of sequential order?

  I’m still sitting there, thinking, when Annabel comes into the living room from somewhere down the hall.

  “Oh. Hey, Reese.”

  She’s wearing a T-shirt and boxers covered in . . . is that Mr. Bojangles?

  “Hey, Annabel.”

  “Whatcha doing?” She sits next to me and picks up my coffee from the windowsill, helping herself to a long swallow.

  “I was enjoying some coffee.”

  “It’s good.” She lifts it in cheers before taking another drink. “What’s the list about?”

  I hold the notebook to my chest. “I’ll tell you if you explain to me why you’re wearing Jude’s boxers.”

  She puts the mug down and spreads her hands. “There’s no story here. I just needed something to sleep in, you know.”

  Jude appears in the doorway. “Did you want some coffee?” he asks her.

  “I had some.”

  He’s smiling, and she’s staring back at him but I can’t see her expression since she’s turned away.

  No one speaks for a few long seconds and then Annabel stands abruptly. “I gotta get going.” She takes off back down the hall.

  Jude shrugs and heads back to the kitchen, yelling, “Mornin’, Reese,” over his shoulder.

  Huh.

  Within minutes, Annabel is back, fully dressed, purse in hand.

  “We still hanging out later?” I call when she races past the open doorway.

  “Um.” She appears back in the doorway, her eyes darting toward the kitchen, where Jude is whistling along to the sounds of coffee brewing. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Wanna go to supper at Granny’s?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Gotta be there right at five. Meet back here at four thirty?”

  Jude’s whistling gets a little louder.

  “That’s fine. Good. Great. See you.” Then she disappears so fast, I think an Annabel-shaped outline forms midair.

  Well, isn’t that interesting.

  11

  Barbecue may not be the road to world peace, but it’s a start.

  —Anthony Bourdain

  Fitz

  “How was the meet?” Jude asks as soon as I walk into the kitchen.

  I glance over at the dining table, where all my housemates are sitting. “Fine.” I head to the sink, filling up a cup and chugging it down.

  I placed third in the 2400 and we got second in the relay, but I spent the rest of the time trying to avoid Abby, who did worse than ever, coming in last or close to it for every event.

  That’s what happens when you party too hard and can’t put in your best effort. Or any effort at all, really.

  Now I’m dusty and dirty and need to hit the shower. “House meeting?”

  “Nah, just doing some numbers,” Jude says.

  Beast has his notebook open and Reese is sitting next to him, close enough to read whatever he’s got in there.

  Weird.

  Escaping to the room to grab clean clothes, I give only a fleeting glance to the bed where we slept together last night.

  We slept last night.

  Reese. And me. In the same bed. We slept together.

  I mean, not really, but yeah. Like we were a couple or something. I’ve never done that with anyone but Abby, ever. And even with Abby it didn’t happen more than a handful of times.

  And then I had to bail out for the meet and now I feel like a bit of a schmuck for it, even though we didn’t actually do anything and even though she tried to pretend she was sleeping. No one can be that tense while they sleep.

  I hope it doesn’t make things tense between us again. I don’t think it will. It’s a physical attraction. That’s all.

  I shower quickly and head back to the kitchen for a snack. It’s Jude’s night to cook and I’m liable to eat an entire horse.

  “What’s for dinner?” I open the fridge for a snack.

  “I don’t know yet, but you have to see this,” Jude says.

  I walk over to the table and Jude points out a column of numbers on the notebook in front of Reese. “Do this one. Show him.”

  We lock gazes, her dark blue irises lighter in the bright daylight streaming in through the kitchen windows, but then she jerks her eyes away.

  She nods at Jude and then focuses down the page.

  Jude holds up the calculator from his lap as Reese recites the number.

  “Four thousand seven hundred and eighty-five point one two.”

  Jude lowers the calculator. His voice is awestruck. “You’re a genius.”

  “I’m not. Not really.” Her cheeks are pink. “More like a circus freak.”

  “Never that,” Jude says before I can say something similar. “Babies, you are amazing.”

  Her flush deepens.

  A knock at the front has everyone turning. Annabel’s voice calls out, “Reese?”

  “Come on in,” Jude says.

  “Why are you always here?” I ask when she walks into the kitchen.

  “Aw, I love it when you talk sweet to me, brother mine.” She stops next to me and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m here to pick up Reese.”

  “Where you guys going?” Jude asks.

  “Supper at the Jackson ranch,” Annabel answers.

  “Granny’s making barbeque,” Reese adds.

  Jude rubs his stomach. “I’ve a hankering for some homemade biscuits.”

  “Sorry, Van Wilder, but you haven’t been invited to sample Granny’s smoked brisket.”

  “But wouldn’t you know it, barbeque is my favorite food. And I reckon it’s not up to you whether I’m invited or not.”

  “Buy your own food.”

  “What can I say, darlin’, poor boys got poor ways.”

  “Except you’re not poor.” Annabel’s eyes narrow and Jude’s unflappable smile falters for a brief second.

  “You can come,” Reese speaks into the silence.

  Jude grins slowly, his eyes never leaving Annabel, who huffs in annoyance.

  “You can all come. Granny always cooks enough food to get the whole county full as a tick.”

  “Shotgun!” Jude yells, standing up and making for the door. “Beast, you coming?”

  Beast lumbers after Jude, tucking the notebook into his jacket.

  “Reese has shotgun since it’s her house we’re going to.” Annabel follows them out the door.

  “Did you want to come along?” Reese asks, her expression neutral.

  I’m half starved. I want to go with them. But at the same time, I don’t know if spending more time with Reese is a good idea.

  She’s . . . I don’t know. I don’t know how to sort out the emotions pressing at me. I remember waking up with her in my arms, soft, sweet. How she helped me with the pig. How she cou
ld have gone off about what a bitch Abby was to her, but held it back.

  I’m not ready to jump into anything new. And Reese and I are competing. There are a million reasons this is the worst idea ever, and yet the little head below my waist is panting like a shaggy dog in a July heat wave.

  “No. I’m good.” My stomach growls and I whirl away, hoping she can’t hear it even though to me it sounds like a rumble from the earth itself.

  “Okay. See you later.”

  I nod, ignoring the twinge of disappointment when the front door slams shut.

  What did I want, for her to insist that I come along?

  Maybe I sort of did.

  I watch from the kitchen window while they try and sort themselves inside Annabel’s car, an old two-door Honda Civic hand-me-down from Momma. Not a large vehicle by any means, and that fact is proven as Beast tries to tuck his large frame into the miniscule back seat.

  I chuckle as Jude attempts to climb in through the back window. Annabel is yelling at both of them, her face turning red while her mouth flaps.

  Reese stands to the side, watching and laughing.

  My gaze is drawn to her, her smile, the light in her eyes, and then I notice movement behind her, down the street.

  A lone figure walks toward the house, arms wrapped around herself, blonde hair, a pink sweater that I instantly recognize.

  Abby. Heading this way.

  Oh, hell no.

  Forgetting all my worries about the swiftly growing attraction to Reese, I hurry out the door.

  “Wait, I’m coming.” I lock the door behind me.

  “Of course you are.” Jude’s finally levered himself into the back seat next to Beast.

  “There’s no room,” Annabel says. “Drive your own car.”

  “But it’s parked two blocks over.” All the street spots were taken when I got home. I glance down the road. Abby’s getting closer. “And it’s full of boxes.”

  “You can sit on Beast’s lap,” Jude suggests.

  “You sit on his lap,” I say.

  “Nope.” Jude’s smile is knowing as his eyes dart down the street.

  Jude’s gonna win this game of chicken, and he knows it.

  “Where’s Reese’s car?” I make one last-ditch attempt.