by Lane, Stacy
Turning around, I reply, “Hey, Jo.”
Not only is she responsible for my lack of a sex life, now she’s stealing all of my game too. I feel like a pre-teen in junior high, walking up to the pretty girl and choking on my own tongue.
Her familiar eyes roam along my casual wear, stirring the pot to simmer.
No glasses again, added with the black hair, is really throwing me off, but still fuck-hot.
“No costume?” she asks.
“Nah. We had a game tonight, and wasn’t really feeling in the mood afterward.”
“Right. You guys lost. I heard.”
“Still keeping tabs on me?”
Her heavy-lined eyes make them appear rounder and the green more vivid. Typically, I would not be feeling the black lipstick, but with the whole get-up, my man beneath the jeans is really digging it.
I loved watching The Addams Family as a kid, and Wednesday Addams was a bad bitch, but this Wednesday Addams was screwing with my head.
“Nooo,” she drags out with a hidden smile. “But we were at a party tonight and Nick keeps tabs.”
“Ah.” I nod, staring at the two friendly faces behind her. “Nick and Taytum, right? Just got engaged.”
“Yes!” Taytum shouts with a small bounce before controlling herself. “Um, yes, we did.”
I’d like to think she got that excited over her recent engagement, but something tells me she reacted as such because I knew about the engagement.
“Congratulations. Again. I’m sure Jo told you that already, but it’s something worth repeating.”
“No, actually, she didn’t,” Taytum forces a smile, speaking through tightly clenched teeth.
“Must have slipped my mind,” Jo shrugs.
“So.” Stepping back, I do a sweep of her costume. “Wednesday Addams. Great choice.”
“Thanks. Though I didn’t get the memo about Cam’s dress code for tonight. I feel overdressed.” She glances around the room.
“Well, if you’re staying let me buy you a drink. Chelsea’s in the back if you want to head that way.”
“She’s not staying,” her friend grumbles. “Maybe you can convince her.” Taytum smiles with encouragement.
She and her fiancé walk off to find Chelsea.
“Does Nick ever talk?” I ask, watching her petite blonde friend and her burly, dark-skinned fiancé fight through the crowd.
“He’s a little starstruck. And Taytum talks enough for the both of them, trust me.”
Turning back to her, I check out her fishnet legs briefly. “Alright, Wednesday, how ‘bout that drink?”
Jo pursed her lips, takes a breath while glancing down at her phone, and replies, “Just one. My ride will be here soon.”
“Someone picking you up?” I ask.
A boyfriend? A date? Please be a brother.
“I rode with my friends to another party in Riverview. Cuts my Uber bill in half if I have them pick me up from here.”
“Could just stay.”
“It’s late, and I’ve already done the crowded party thing for the night.”
“Okay,” I say, setting my full beer down at the nearest table. “Cancel your ride. I’ll drive you home.”
“Brooks, no,” Jo shakes her head automatically. “I live nowhere close to here. That’s crazy.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“You’ve been drinking.”
“My beer is still full. I can drive.”
“People will notice if I leave with you,” she argues.
“You’re Wednesday Addams tonight. Not Jo. No one knows who you are.”
Jo considers this by biting on her lip. “What about your teammates?”
“We’ll walk out the front then.”
She picks at the hem of her dress with both hands. The movement draws my eyes down. Four inches of succulent thighs peep out in the space between stockings and the dress. The snug band wraps around her thighs the way my hands long to.
Shit. Why did I agree to further torture myself by taking her home?
Nodding, reluctantly, she says, “Okay.”
I guide the way to the exit and then outside. She stays close behind until we get to the parking lot and I move a hand to the small of her back to ease her in closer. Cam’s Halloween event brought regulars, newbies, and bar-hoppers. We were walking through a pitch black alley down the side of the building to get to where I parked my car in the back.
“Addams Family costumes your idea?”
“Not exactly. Taytum told me she and Nick were going as Morticia and Gomez. She was forcing me to attend the party, so I decided to go as Wednesday. Slightly messed up her couples costume idea, but that’s what she gets for making me always tag along as the third wheel.”
“You pull off the outfit perfectly.” My response thickens in the dark lane.
“I don’t know, seems I should have shown more skin.”
She does not realize how more clothing on a woman can entice a man. When there’s very little on the body, yeah, we get a good idea what’s going on underneath and it’s sexy. But when we have to work for it, use our imagination, the result is a helluva lot sweeter.
“Trust me, the little bit of leg you’re showing off does way more for a guy than giving it all away.”
“Even in my boots Taytum said was hideous?” she asks with a teasing smile.
The thing about Jo, she teases without intention. Her charm is so natural and she’s completely unaware of its effect.
“No one else could pull those boots off the way you are, Jo.”
“Thanks,” she replies in a soft tone, tucking her face away.
A loud crash of a bottle shattering on cement snaps our attention behind us. Without thought, I bring Jo into my side, keeping an arm low around her waist. She doesn’t complain.
The parking lot lights shine above as we reach my car. I unlock and open the door for her to get inside, then round the front to take my own seat.
“Where to?”
“Westchase.”
“You’ll have to direct me, I don’t think I’ve been out there before.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Five years.”
“Wow. Don’t get out to explore much, huh.”
“When you play eighty-two games six months out the year, more if we’re lucky enough to make the Playoffs, you spend your summers away to vacation and relax.”
“Yeesh,” she cringes. “Just the thought of all that travel makes me uneasy.”
“Not a fan of flying?”
“Not a fan of many things,” Jo speaks so low I almost don’t hear it. “Something I’m working on, though.”
“That’s why your friend had to make you go to that party tonight?”
“Yes. And because she was trying to set me up with a guy,” she answers. I stare straight ahead onto the streets lit with a rosy glow. “She’s more desperate for me to date than I am. The guy was a head shorter than me. And I’m not that tall, to begin with.”
Despite my initial reaction, I laugh.
“To be honest, your bar is the one place I actually like to hang out,” Jo states, hands twisting in her lap.
“Cam’s done a fantastic job.”
“I would have preferred to start my night there, but I have to be at work early tomorrow. Most days I work from home, but I have to go in on the first. That’s why I left.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m an actuary.”
“That’s something involving statistics, right?”
“Yeah, I compile statistics for an insurance company. Tell them how to save, where to save, and when to make adjustments.”
“So you’re the reason our rates on the bar keep going up,” I grin down at her, catching her lips twitching as well.
“Get on 275 and head south,” Jo directs as the signs for the interstate come into view.
Silence fills the car for a little while. The night is quiet, the streets are vacant. My car hugs the bumpy roa
ds as I take the on-ramp.
“Still waiting on new glasses?” I ask, glimpsing over at her before facing ahead once again.
“No, I got a new pair. Just didn’t go with my look.”
“Gotta admit,” I find myself saying into the calm darkness of my car. “I miss the blonde ponytail and glasses.”
“Really?” she questions with disbelief.
“Yeah. It’s your look, Jo. Not the same seeing you without them.”
“Most people ask why I don’t switch to contacts permanently.”
“I hope you never do,” I whisper back.
Jo clears her throat, visibly uncomfortable with my compliment. “I’m going to a game with your dad next weekend.”
“When did you schedule that?”
It’s the first I’m hearing of it. Figured my old man would be spending every minute until the game to remind me of who he was going with.
“Yesterday. Chelsea says your mom will be there too.”
“Huh. She doesn’t go to many games, unlike my dad who’s at every home game.”
“Doesn’t bother you that your dad tried setting me up with you, yet I’ll be spending a few hours with both of your parents?” From the sound of it, she finds it odd.
“He tried and failed. You don’t want me, remember?” I shoot her a grin. “Besides, it’s kind of a win-win situation for me. I have a girl who is tight with my parents, but I don’t have to worry about settling down with her.”
“Very funny,” she replies in a dry tone.
“Where do I need to get off from here?” I ask after passing a couple exits even though she never said anything.
“Take the Veterans and go north when we get to it. Exit on Linebaugh from there.”
“If you didn’t want to go to that party why didn’t you drive yourself?”
“I don’t like to drive unless I have to. Another bad habit I’ve fallen into with spending so much time at home.”
“I love to drive.” Catching her eyes in the blue glow from the dash, I say, “There’s one opposite we have in our favor, Jo.”
Opposites are what you make it. It doesn’t have to be seen as a flaw. It gives balance; it gives qualities more value.
With the intensity in her gaze, I regret having to turn back to the road.
Her phone blows up when her friends realize she left. More texts flood her screen when she tells them I drove her home. Jo muttering to herself about a busybody best friend has me laughing.
I take the exit on Linebaugh, following the many turns through her neighborhood until I pull in the driveway of a gorgeous one-story home.
“You live here alone?” I ask, peering over my steering wheel at the pale yellow concrete house, impressed.
“Yep. Thanks for the ride, Brooks.” She reaches for the door handle.
“I’ll walk you to the door.” Cute that she thinks she’s getting away so easily.
Jo walks ahead of me, stepping along well-manicured pavers leading to her front door. The outside lights were left on, lighting up the entire front of her house.
She fidgets as she places her key inside the lock, holding back from turning the bolt.
Her hand rests on the doorknob as I step beside her. Fingering the ends of her black, braided wig, I murmur, “Jo, can I ask for a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Can you take this terrible wig off?”
She starts laughing, nodding her head. With a simple pull, the wig slides off and her fingers latch under another piece keeping her blonde hair contained. Long, waving strands of golden hair falls around shoulders.
“Much, much better, Angel,” I whisper with approval and fighting the dire urge to lift my hands in her hair.
“Why do you call me that?” Her face tilts with curiosity.
“That’s something I’ll never tell you,” I answer with a secret smile.
Jo’s lips tip up, matching my smile and displaying dimples. Her eyes fall to my lips. The longer she stares the more sparks begin zapping the electric air between us.
I walked her to the door. My decent act is done.
Let’s be real, I didn’t accompany her up here to be a gentleman.
She pulls a reaction from me I only feel a similarity to when I’m on the ice.
Gameday atmosphere gets me hyped with adrenaline for what’s ahead. Edgy and crazed to start a fight, greedy to get my stick on the puck, every emotion I’m capable of having surges inside me.
Jo is like a game day. Better than one because I’m feeling new things. Uncaged, adrenaline laced with desire and thrill.
I can’t take any it longer.
Black lipstick and all, I kiss Jo.
The abrupt press of my mouth surprises her, me sucking in her gasp of shock. I want her air, her lips. I want her.
As I hoped she would do, Jo loosens her wound up limbs and sinks into the kiss. I thought her scent was torturous, but her taste is deadly. She’s Poison Ivy I would willingly give myself to time and time again.
Her head falls to one side, and I take her lead, her approval. Running my tongue along her lip to test the waters, Jo parts for me. The second I deepen the kiss, her content sigh rattles my needs. A hand gripping the back of her neck, I tilt her head back to take more.
Nothing has ever tasted so good.
My sweet, sweet Angel.
And dear Lord, I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I make the decision to pull back. To not scare her any further than I already could have. Because a fear is sinking into the pit of my stomach. A fear of nothing every tasting as good as she does on my lips.
Kissing her was right. And stopping was to show her that I’m not only after one thing.
Ever so slowly I draw my lips away from hers. Eyes closed, head fallen into my hands, her mouth follows promptly to seek mine.
Thick lashes flutter open. Hooded, green eyes stare unblinkingly into mine.
But all too soon that desire transforms into skepticism and fury.
She quickly pulls away, causing my hand to drop from underneath her hair. Hand turning the key in the doorknob, I hear the telling click right as she says, “Don’t ever do that again.”
Jo slams the door in my face, leaving me clueless as to what happened. The only sure thing I know is that kiss. I know I’ve never felt so much from one tiny kiss than I have in all the many other pleasures I’ve experienced in my life.
Somehow I’ve ruined her night.
But mine is ruined for the foreseeable future.
NINE
Jo
All day I’ve been good about keeping my mind off Brooks and the kiss from last night. I buried myself in work, grateful for it being the first of the month and having to go to the office where I sat in meetings and interacted with others on a constant basis.
Every time I glanced at my cell phone there was a new text from Taytum wanting the details of how my night ended. She wanted it to be more scandalous than it was, after all, Brooks Labelle drove me home.
Not sure what it said about him, but relaying that nothing happened between us was not believable enough for her.
When I wasn’t ignoring Taytum, Chelsea was texting to make sure he behaved. Apparently, she’s warned him away from me a couple times.
All of it had me wondering what kind of reputation Brooks carried for himself if one person found it highly unlikely nothing happened, while another person had to remind him to keep his dick in his pants.
Nothing may be what I relayed to my friends, but that kiss was far from nothing. That kiss was something, all right. Something so wonderful it was terrifying. And I never wanted it to happen again.
Not sure how he does it, but I find myself opening up when speaking to him. Awkward and vulnerable I may be, yet the comfort and ease I relax into when he comes around has me telling him my inner thoughts that I hardly share with my best friend.
I left early from a perfectly good party and he didn’t find it the least bit weird. He left with me.
Brook
s accepted my anxiousness about being recognized with him. A crutch I was using because he was all too likable. Infuriating, at times, but very likable.
I liked the way I acted differently with him. More attitude and snark; less worry and self-doubt.
Every time he appears, resistance diminishes piece by piece.
I saw negativity in our opposite lives. He sees the opposites as a positive. The opposing charges were accumulating like ions in the clouds. Attracting and sparking the closer we came together.
A storm was on the rise, and that’s why I had to make sure we were never that close again.
Alone at the dinner table, a plate of shrimp Alfredo steaming and ready for me to drown my fatigue in pasta, my phone rings.
Taytum is relentless.
My groan intensifies though when I see my mom’s name pop up on the screen.
“Hi, Mom,” I answer, setting my phone down and turning the speaker on.
“Jolene! How are you?” She blasts her nasally voice at an awful pitch to the point I have to turn the volume down every time I speak with her. “I feel like I’m always the one calling you. Don’t you still love your parents?”
“Mom, we spoke three days ago.”
“We used to call each other every day.”
She called every day, and I always answered because I had no life. But as of late, I’ve gone out and become a real social bug. Parties, bars, kissing hockey players on my doorstep. My neighbors are going to finally learn they live next door to a twenty-something female and not the elder widow I’ve acted as for the last few years.
“I’ve been busy, I’m sorry.”
“Jolene, you work from home and you have no boyfriend. How busy can you be?” she replies in a bored tone.
My mother, everybody, the voice of my lacking confidence.
“Is there something you need? I just sat down for dinner so maybe I can call you back a little later.” Fork in the bowl, I twirl the pasta in white sauce, breathing in the creamy aroma.
“We never talk and now you’re trying to rush me off the phone.”
I don’t give that a response. It only feeds into what she wants.
“Fine, well, I called to see if you’ve bought your ticket home for Thanksgiving yet.”
“Not yet.”