by S. M. Shade
Carter and Joel both pause, and Joel says, “Oh, hi Dad. Did we wake you?”
“I generally like to see what’s going on when it sounds like giant rats are invading the kitchen.” He glances around the room. “You guys are stoned.”
“We are not,” Carter argues.
Alan nods to the bowl sitting in front of Joel and the carton in his hand. “Uh-huh. You just wanted a nice bowl of apple juice then?”
Joel looks down and snorts out a laugh. A bowl of apple juice sits on the counter beside a glass and a box of cereal.
It’s too much. My entire body shakes with the effort to hold the laughter in, and when Owen looks at me we both give up the fight. Tears pour down my face while Joel stares down at his mistake.
“Go ahead and pour yourself a glass of corn flakes,” Owen says. “It’s part of a complete breakfast.”
Once I get myself under control, I see Alan shaking his head and grinning. “You’d better make sure the dishes end up in the dishwasher or your mom will hunt you down. Good night, dumbasses.”
After our food and laugh fest, we finally go to bed. I’m high and stuffed full of delicious food. Owen’s lips taste like cherries when I kiss him good night, and I can’t remember the last time I was so content.
I’m awake before Owen and take the opportunity to just look at him. It’s funny how it feels like I see him clearer and clearer, this sweet man who makes everyone around him laugh. Funny guys can’t be trusted. One second you’re laughing, and the next your panties are on the floor.
It’s been tough trying to push aside the disappointment and anxiety of what my life has suddenly become, but I’m doing my best not to obsess over the fact I won’t be attending school. Instead, I’ll likely be working with Serena at what Owen has dubbed “the breastaurant.”
Watching Owen’s family and how they function, plus seeing Rachel has helped. They’re all happy. That happiness doesn’t seem to be conditional. It doesn’t matter what’s going on in their lives, they’re making it work. If they can, I can too.
I’ll finish school. I’ll meet my goals and keep working toward a career. But I won’t do it alone. I don’t have to.
“Stop staring at me. It’s creepy, and I feel objectified,” Owen murmurs, without opening his eyes. How did he know?
“I was thinking you look sexy with your hair all messy.”
A grin grows on his face, and he looks at me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, but then you opened your mouth and ruined it.” My phone beeps with an email notification, and I pick it up.
He stretches and sits up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Funny how often that happens.”
“This doesn’t make sense,” I mumble, rereading the email again.
Owen sits on the edge of the bed. “What doesn’t?”
“I got an email from my advisor to reschedule my appointment and register for classes. It says the Building Hope grant was applied to my tuition, and I don’t owe anything.” Sighing, I shake my head. What a tease. I really didn’t need the reminder. “It must be a mistake. I know I forfeited that when I left early.”
Owen gestures for me to let him read the email, and I hand the phone over. “Rem, it’s a mistake in your favor. Register for classes and see if they catch it.”
“No way. What if they realize it mid-semester, and I suddenly owe all the money back? I can’t take that risk. I have to take the year off. It’s just how it is.” It’s still hard to accept, and I need a few minutes by myself. “I’m going to take a shower.”
The hot water feels amazing, and I let myself think about how the next year is going to go. One thing I know about myself is I need some intellectual stimulation. Working at a restaurant, being with Owen, hanging with friends won’t be enough. I love to learn. I’ll have to find a way to fill that gap.
This has also made me rethink my long term career plans. Rather than being a practicing psychologist, I may want to focus more on research. Trying to gain a deeper understanding of human thought and behavior to discover new treatment techniques sounds more fulfilling. The few minutes I spend reminding myself that all of that is still in my future helps, and I’m in a better mood when I return to the bedroom where Owen waits.
An odd expression sits on his face. Expectant, like he’s holding in something he’s dying to tell me. He’s on his feet as soon as I walk through the door. “Okay, don’t get mad.”
Not a promising start to whatever this is.
“What did you do?”
“I called one of the J’s. Our bosses from Building Hope? I wanted to see if he knew anything about the email you got. They’re the ones who officially sign off on the volunteers, but Meyer is the one who decides which volunteers met the requirements.”
Why isn’t he letting this go? It’s just making it harder. “Owen, I left.”
“Yeah, but Meyer didn’t report that. The company signed off for you to get credit.” His grin is sheepish. “I may have called him too. Anyway, listen, he said to tell you, and I quote ‘You’re a good kid with a bright future, but please don’t go into the construction field.’”
This is too good to be true. I left. I screwed up. I’m supposed to have to pay the price for it. Can I even accept this when I know that? “I can’t…Owen, I didn’t earn it.”
He lays his hands on my shoulders. “Meyer thinks you did. He gave you a favorable performance review. Rem, you qualified for the grant. You don’t have to take the year off school.”
The truth sinks in, and Owen pulls me into his arms when a sob escapes my chest. “I’m sorry,” I tell him, laughing and crying at the same time. “I’m just relieved. I was trying so hard to be okay with a year off, but it was killing me.” I’m struck by a sudden realization. “Oh my god, I need to schedule the appointment with my advisor. As soon as we get back, I have to get my books. I don’t even know what the assigned reading will be and…”
My rant is cut off with a kiss.
It’s magic the way his kiss can stop my racing brain in its tracks. There’s nothing to worry about when I’m in his arms, and it’s the sweetest relief. Everything’s going to be alright. Even if things hadn’t gone my way this time, I know I would’ve been okay.
Running my fingers over the nape of his neck, I look him in the eye. “Do you remember when you said you could love the hell out of me if I decided you were worth the risk?”
He nods, and I kiss the corner of his mouth. “You were always worth it, Owen. You’re worth any risk. I love you so much.”
I’ve done the unimaginable and left him speechless, even if it’s only for a moment. The joy in his eyes, the way his cheeks flush, it’s the sweetest thing. I can’t imagine ever being without him again.
It’s been a summer to remember. One full of lessons hard learned, but valuable enough to change my life. Everything is unpredictable even with the best of planning, and walling yourself off so nothing bad happens isn’t the answer. It’s about surrounding yourself with people who’ll ride out the hard times with you. Nothing seems as bad when you have someone who hurts when you hurt, and laughs when you laugh. Someone to help celebrate the wins, and mourn the losses. I want to be that person for Owen the way he is for me.
Life isn’t about minimizing risk to attain some future happiness. It’s about living and loving now, despite the obstacles and fear.
I can do that.
Epilogue
Owen
Nine Weeks Later
Remee’s message about wanting to talk to me didn’t sound worrisome, but sometimes I don’t know what’s going through her head. She has the night off work, and I waste no time getting to her place after my last class.
“Hey,” she says, dropping a kiss on my mouth when she opens the door. “That was fast.”
“Is something wrong?”
A nervous smile tilts her lips. “No.” Taking my hand, she leads me to the couch and sits down beside me. “I want to ask you something, and I know it’s really early so if you don’t
think it’s a good idea, I completely understand. It won’t hurt my feelings if you say no, okay? Seriously.”
“Rem, you can ask me anything.”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “You know Kelly is moving in with Layton?”
I had heard that. It’s only been a few weeks since Graham moved to Japan, but we haven’t had much luck finding a suitable roommate to replace him. Now, the girls are going to be looking to replace Kelly. “Serena told me.”
“Well, I was thinking. Instead of us trying to find a fourth person, and you guys trying to find a third, maybe you and Marty could move in here instead. You and I could, you know, live together, share my room. Like I said, if you think it’s too early or not a good idea, I understand.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I swear everything is coming up Owen. She giggles when I pull her onto my lap. “Let me get this straight. You’re so obsessed with me that you want me to move in so you never have to suffer through one second of Owen withdrawal.” She rolls her eyes as I continue. “So head over heels, devastatingly in love that even the thought that I’ll have to go home sometime is unbearable. You’re sitting here, asking me to put you out of your misery and give you twenty-four hour access to all this. Is that right?”
She smacks my chest. “Would you be serious?”
“I am serious. Does this offer include daily blow jobs?”
“No.”
“Topless breakfast in bed every morning?”
“Not a chance.”
“Unlimited ass and titty groping privileges?”
“You do that anyway.”
I wrap my arms around her and flip her underneath me on the couch. “But now I get to do it without interruption.”
Giggles spill out of her as I catch her nipple between my lips through her thin shirt. “Is that a yes?”
“It’s a hell yes.”
She slides a hand behind my neck and beams up at me. “Serena and Zara are on board, but we haven’t asked Marty yet.”
I hold up one finger. “Hold, please.” I’ve never typed out a text so fast in my life.
Me: Screw finding a new roommate. The girls want us to move in with them. Say yes or I’ll stand in your room wearing a thong and singing WAP every time you bring a chick home.
Marty: When are we moving?
“Okay, we’re good.”
The way she smiles up at me never fails to hit me right in the chest. She’s so amazing. The way she’s quickly adjusted to balancing work with school while making sure we have time together. She’s just as much of a stickler for her perfect grades, but that’s just who she is. A perfectionist. She needs someone like me around to remind her it’s okay to mess up or not be perfect. To me, she’s always perfect.
“Layton’s coming over Thursday to help Kelly move to his place. So anytime after that. Do you have to stay out your lease?”
“It’s month to month.” I pull her to her feet. “Come and help me pack.”
“You want to move in today?”
“This is my home now. Accept it. We can figure out what to do with the extra furniture, and get Marty’s shit this weekend.”
“Roomie!” I cry, when Zara comes through the front door from work. We’ve just finished bringing the last of our stuff.
“Oh god, it’s actually happening. I thought it was a nightmare.” Zara sighs, hanging up her jacket.
Marty sidles over and throws an arm around her. One look at his eyes says he’s high. “It’s a dream come true. Every night, I’m going to be just on the other side of the wall from you.”
Zara glares over at Serena and Remee. “I can’t believe you did this to me.”
“You agreed,” Serena laughs.
“I was outvoted and didn’t want to be difficult. Now look what I’m dealing with.” She gestures to Marty, who’s still hanging on her.
“Relax, babe. You probably just need to get laid. You wouldn’t be so grouchy. As the only unattached male in the house, I volunteer my services. Don’t catch feelings, though.”
Zara looks up at him. “If you don’t get your arm off of me, something else male is going to be unattached.”
Marty grimaces and cups a hand over his crotch. Flopping on the couch next to me, he looks at Zara. “What are you making for dinner?”
Zara looks around the room. “I will kill him. I’ve read enough true crime books to hide his body.”
“Why would anyone want to hide a body like mine?” Marty says, flexing his bicep.
He loves getting under Zara’s skin, and she makes it so easy for him. They may be friends, but a feminist and a man whore are always going to bump heads.
A pillow flies across the room, bonking Marty in the face, and Serena points at him. “Shut it. It’s only the first day, and I don’t have bail money.” She turns to Zara. “It’ll be fine. We’re all together half the time anyway.”
Remee takes my hand. “I’m going to go organize some things in our bedroom.”
Her finger brushes back and forth over my palm, her signal for what she really wants. “I’ll help.” As we leave the room, I hear Marty cough out the word bottom because apparently that joke never gets old to him.
“Is Zara really upset about Marty living here?” I ask, once we’re alone.
Remee shakes her head. “Nah, she’s giving him shit. I swear those two need to fuck and get it over with.”
“Ha! I doubt that.”
When Remee picks up a shirt from the bed and starts folding it, I wrap my arms around her from behind. “You didn’t actually come in here to organize things, did you? Because I have a better idea.”
Her hand reaches up to stroke the back of my neck, and she tilts her head, giving me access to kiss her neck the way she loves. “Mmm, I have lots of ideas.”
“Because you’re an overachiever in bed too.” Her breath catches when I slide my hand up her shirt to play with her nipples.
“Lucky you.”
“Lucky me,” I agree. “Do you know what I’d like to do to you?” I whisper in her ear, running my hand between her legs.
She pushes her ass back against my crotch with a soft hum. “Tell me.”
With my free hand, I reach under the pillow and retrieve what I’ve stashed there while I gently push on her back, bending her over the bed. “Do you remember when we were in the sex toy shop?”
“Yes,” she whispers as I rub my hand over her ass.
“Then you remember that you have this coming.” She glances back as soon as the words are out, but not fast enough. Aware I’m only going to get one, I swat her good across the ass with the paddle, and she cries out, mostly in surprise, but I don’t doubt it stung like hell through those leggings.
It’s not the same paddle she whacked me with in the toy shop months ago. That was a wooden monstrosity that would’ve hurt too badly, but this plastic one did the trick.
“Ow! You’re dead!” she shouts, grabbing for the paddle. She’s a strong little thing when she wants to be, but not as quick as me.
Darting out of the room, I can hear her right on my heels. I would’ve made it a lot farther and ate far less carpet if Marty’s stupid foot hadn’t tripped me. Remee isn’t going to let the opportunity go to waste. She snatches the paddle up from where I’ve dropped it.
Serena, Marty, and Zara all watch as she lights my ass up twice while I try to get back on my feet. “Hey! We were even! You paddled me first!”
When I yank the paddle from her hand, she shrieks and laughs, running off down the hall.
Zara covers her face and mocks Serena. “Let’s just have the guys move in and share rent. It’ll be fun.”
The room is quiet for a moment until a stoned Marty speaks up. “Do you ever wonder what some animals would look like with human lips?”
The look Zara and Serena give each other is hilarious. They’ve just realized what they’ve gotten themselves into.
“Too late now,” I sing. Slapping the paddle on my hand, I head down the hall. �
�Oh Remee, come out wherever you are.”
THE END
If you enjoyed Overachiever, don’t miss Kelly and Layton’s story in the first book of the Slumming It Series, Unsupervised.
http://mybook.to/Unsupervised1
Or check out the Violent Circle Series with the original residents of this crazy neighborhood in Scarlet Toys.
http://mybook.to/Toysbook
Acknowledgments
I’m always happy to return to the turbulent nonsense that is Violent Circle, but after this year it was more than necessary. I hope the antics of these characters have cheered up your day and made you laugh a little during the new season of the shit show.
As always, there are a multitude of people that have helped make this book possible. My alpha and beta readers, Kelly Tucker, Chantal Baxendale, Aimee Degagne, and Veronica Ashley, thank you for helping me clean this up and reassuring me that the anal version of a Billie Eilish song was not, in fact, taking things too far. I’m still not sure I agree, but I left it in anyway so if I get a bunch of irate messages, I’ll forward them to you since it’s your fault.
I want to thank the Shady Ladies who have been patiently waiting for me to write this comedy while I got distracted working on a quarantine romance. (I know. What the hell was I thinking? Hey, let’s write a romance based in the trauma we’re all going through. That’ll go over well.) I loved seeing all the excitement in the group over Remee and Owen’s story. I adore how you all just embrace the crazy and go with it. I’m so grateful to have such an amazing group of supporters.
Speaking of supporters, I want to thank Rachel Van Dyken. Because she read my book, you guys. Like, honestly read it and liked it. I’m not even shitting you here. If you don’t believe me, go and look at the Amazon page. I’ll wait. See? I told you. I can’t believe you thought I’d lie about something like that. Anyway, thanks so much, Rachel.