by Amy Sumida
“Where’s Mr. K—, um, Joshua?”
Alex answered, “He needed to run to his class for a minute. He left some of the papers there, and he’s got to get them graded this weekend. He’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay, then.”
Everyone seemed pleased with the sandwiches; Matt and Bishop grabbed one of each. While we chatted about what to do after lunch, I mentioned I planned to make dinner. Bishop froze with a sandwich halfway to his mouth.
“You can cook? Like, really cook?” Shock laced through his voice as his mouth popped open.
“Well, yeah, most things, why?”
The guys paused as they collectively held their breath. Bishop broke the silence, “What are you making?”
“Spaghetti.” I wiped a bit of escaped mustard on my napkin.
Bishop dropped his sandwich to his plate. “Dibs!” he shouted as he pointed at me. “I call dibs! You can’t have her, she’s mine!” He jumped up from the table and started to round it toward me when Alex playfully tackled him to the floor.
“You can’t call dibs on a girl, idiot. You have to woo her.” He laughed and tried to pin Bishop underneath him.
“How am I supposed to do that when she’s doing all the wooing? She made me sandwiches. Twice! She can cook. She’s making me pasta. She’s practically throwing herself at me, and I’m accepting. She’s mine!” Bishop struggled to get out of Alex’s grip, but he was laughing too hard.
They rolled around on the floor for a minute. Alex finally pinned him down. “She made all of us sandwiches, and she’s making everyone pasta. You can’t have her. Besides, if anyone gets her, it’ll be me.” He smirked at me and winked.
I blushed like a mad woman while I tried to swallow my bite without choking. “You’re all really handsome.”
Stetson chose that moment to jump in, “So, we’re all still in the running?”
I choked. Matt reached up from my other side to pat my shoulder. “Alright, guys, cut it out, you’re going to kill her.” He handed me my bottle of water when I finally finished coughing.
I begged Daniel to step in with my eyes. Chuckling, he shook his head. “You’re on your own.”
I made a stopping motion with my hands. “Okay, listen up. There is no running. There is no competition. We’re friends. No more calling dibs, no more tackling each other, and definitely no more of this kind of talk.” The guys shared a look and nodded at each other. They each sat back at the table, and I assumed the subject was closed.
That was until Matt leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Challenge accepted.”
Everyone helped clean up the mess from lunch. Matt threw his arm around me and guided me toward the living room. He sat on the bend of the couch with his back against the corner and situated me in front of him, resting my back against his chest. I put my legs up on the couch in front of me and leaned back against him. He flipped through the channels on the television until he found a basketball game.
Matt wrapped his arms around my waist and gave me a gentle squeeze when I relaxed with a sigh. Bishop came in next. He lifted my legs from the couch and sat down, putting my thighs across his legs. Alex joined Bishop, putting my feet in his lap. He started rubbing my feet, and I groaned. Matt huskily chuckled in my ear.
Stetson came in and stopped, quickly reversing out of the room. He returned with his sketchbook and a pencil set. Settling himself on the opposite side of the couch from us, he started sketching. As usual, Jaidon entered carrying a book. He casually snagged a throw off the back of the couch as he walked by and covered me up. He lowered himself to the floor next to my hip and leaned his head against me. Sneaking my hand from under the blanket, I ran my fingers through his hair while he read.
Normally, I’d freak out about being surrounded by the guys, but I couldn’t muster enough energy. Alex’s foot massage relaxed my whole body, and the cashmere throw made me warm and cozy. I snuggled deeper into Matt while the guys did their thing. Succumbing to my warm nest, my eyes got heavier until they stayed closed. I fell asleep listening to Matt and Bishop discuss the game.
“Be quiet, she’s still sleeping.” Matt’s whisper woke me. I turned to my side in my sleep. His voice rumbled against my ear.
“But…spaghetti,” Bishop whined quietly. “She said she’d cook spaghetti.”
“She can fix it tomorrow,” Stetson said from across the couch.
“Fine.” I almost smiled at the sheer sorrow in Bishop’s voice.
I peeked my eyes open and discovered I faced the back of the couch. “I’ll still fix spaghetti.” My voice scratched my throat, a little husky from my nap. “I’ll need a sous chef. Any volunteers?”
Bishop peeked over the back of the couch to meet my eyes. “I’ll help.”
Matt helped me sit up, and I did a big stretch to loosen up the tight muscles in my back. I closed my eyes and rolled my head back and forth on my neck and moaned. When I opened my eyes, I found all five guys staring at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Okay, they really have to stop talking in unison.
I stood. “Okay, Bishop, let’s go.”
“Pasta! Pasta! Pasta!” he chanted as he jogged toward the kitchen in front of me.
Daniel left a big pot on the stove for me to use for the sauce. I opened the fridge and got out the ground hamburger. I peeked over my shoulder at Bishop. “I need you to cut up an onion for me, please.”
“On it,” he said as he poked around the kitchen, grabbing a cutting board out of a drawer, a knife out of the block, and an onion out of a bowl on the counter.
I knew it was going to be a dream come true to cook in this kitchen. All the appliances you could want stood lined along the wall, a five-burner gas stove, a huge fridge, and a great big butcher block counter. The evening sun came in through a wall of windows behind the farmer’s style table. It added an orange glow to the air as we moved around each other fixing the sauce.
I tried my best to clean as I went, in an attempt to keep the cleaning level down after we ate, but Bishop was the messiest cook on the planet. He spent more time dancing and singing to himself than he did chopping. I found onion on the floor across the room. How does that even happen? When I held up the offending item, he merely shrugged and went back to dance-chopping. I roped him into sweeping the floor and wiping down the counter while I added the last few ingredients to the sauce and set it to simmer.
Before I could put the lid on the pot, a spoon descended over my shoulder. He scooped up a bite of red deliciousness and moaned. “I love you.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Your stomach loves me, you mean.”
“Same thing.” He tried to put the spoon back in the pot, and I smacked it away.
“You can’t put a dirty spoon back in there!” My Home Economics teacher from last year would be appalled.
“Watch me!” Before he could, I grabbed the kitchen towel off the counter, wound it up on my good wrist, and snapped it at him.
He jumped back. “Did you just—” I snapped the towel at him again as he headed for the sauce again. The look of shock on his face was hilarious. “You did.”
He reached into a drawer and grabbed his own dish towel. He wound it up and smirked at me wickedly. “Oh, Joey, you know not who you are messing with.” As his devilish grin increased so did the dimples on his cheeks. I almost dropped my towel. How had I not noticed the dimples?
I jerked out of it when I barely avoided the towel he snapped at me. We chased each other around the bar, snapping and laughing our heads off. Eventually, Bishop backed me into a corner. Laughing so hard I gasped for air, I tried to snap my towel at him to get him to back off, but he stepped into it and grabbed the towel. Then, he grabbed my wrists.
He gently pinned my arms up by my head and leaned me into the wall. “Gotcha.”
Panting and laughing, I stuck my tongue out at him. “Okay, okay, you win.”
“Ah, good. That means I get a prize.” He gazed at my face with longing.
> He leaned into me and ran his lips back and forth across mine gently. He started giving me little pecks, then he kissed me deeper. I closed my eyes at the brush of his lips on mine. He ran his tongue along my bottom lip, and I gasped. He kissed me slowly, reverently, as if I mattered more to him than anything else in that moment, and he had all the time in the world to prove it to me. His hands found the sides of my face and pushed my hair back. His thumbs caressed my cheeks as he tilted my head, allowing him to kiss me deeper.
Before I realized what was happening, I lost myself while kissing him back. I ran my fingers through his soft hair and grabbed handfuls of it. He moaned and nibbled on my bottom lip gently, so as not to hurt my cut.
A throat cleared behind him, and when I tried to jump away, Bishop held me in place, slowly bringing the kiss to a close. He pulled back, then gave me another long peck before he finally stepped back from me. He turned, and my eyes met Stetson’s as he leaned back against the counter with an eyebrow raised.
“Damn,” he said. “I knew I should’ve volunteered.”
I blushed. “I’m not, we weren’t, it’s not…”
“Yes, it was, and we were. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and if you look a little closer, you’ll see he’s just jealous.” Bishop’s smug expression confirmed his statement. He threw an arm around my shoulder and guided me toward a bar stool. I needed the help, my knees were still weak from the kiss, and with the addition of all the blood rushing to my face in what I’m sure is the deepest blush I’d ever had, I felt a little light headed.
Stetson leaned across the counter and kissed my cheek. “He’s right. Don’t feel bad, babe. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I jerked my eyes to Bishop to gauge his reaction to Stetson’s kiss. He rolled his eyes and brought me a bottle of water.
“Okay, seriously, what is going on here?” I had to ask. If I didn’t figure this out soon, my head would explode.
“Not now,” Stetson spoke over my shoulder to Bishop, then he brought his eyes to mine. “We’ll all talk after dinner, okay?”
“Not really, but I’m not going to get my way, am I?” I pouted my already swollen lip at him.
Bishop reached around me and gave me a hug from behind. “Not on this.”
I sighed and shooed them out of the kitchen. “Alright, then. I’m going to go get my things for chemistry so I can study while I keep an eye on dinner.”
“Why do you have to keep an eye on it?” Bishop asked as he reached for a clean spoon.
“Because I have a feeling if I don’t guard it, it’ll be gone by the time we’re supposed to eat it.”
He dropped his spoon back in the drawer. “Touché.”
I headed upstairs to get my book, but about halfway up, the most amazing sound drifted toward me. Deep and mournful. I closed my eyes and listened for a minute until I could place it. Violin music. I swayed toward it up the stairs and down the hall. My heart started to beat faster as the music swelled. I ended up in an open doorway, watching as Alex moved as he played the violin. He bent forward when the music hit a low note, and then bent backward when it rose again. He played like his life depended on it, eyes closed, face in anguish.
The music called to something in me. Sad, but not in a normal way. This wasn’t, “I’m depressed,” or “I’m upset,” music. As I listened to it, tears sprang to my eyes. This was, “goodbye.” This was, “I miss you.” This was, “I’ll never be the same because you’re gone.” Tears glided down my cheeks silently as I watched Alex play the song with his whole body, with his whole soul. His face went through a range of emotions. Anger, loss, grief, and finally, as he brought the song to a close, peace.
“Wow.” The word slipped out before I realized this might be a private moment for him. He jumped a little and spun to lock eyes with me. His hands dropped, the violin in one, and the bow in the other, falling to his side.
“Joey,” he whispered, then he blushed. “I didn’t know you were there.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, but the music was so beautiful I couldn’t help myself.”
“You like it?”
“I love it. It reminds me of the loss and sorrow I felt after my mom died.”
He lowered his head. “I wrote it for my dad and my brother... after.”
“You wrote that?” My mouth dropped open.
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I was always pretty good at this stuff.” He used his violin to gesture to the rest of his room, and as I took in his room, I noticed instruments everywhere. A keyboard stood sentinel in the corner, a guitar sat on a stand next to his bed, and the focal point was a full drum kit near his closet. “My dad encouraged the lessons, and after he died, it was a way to stay close to him.”
He put the violin down on his dresser and walked over to me. “I’ve been meaning to spend time with you. I just wasn’t sure how to approach it.”
“Approach what?”
“You, mostly. I’m a little intimidated.”
“By me? How is that possible?” He guided me into his room, and we sat on his bed. He reached over and pushed some hair behind my ear.
“You back away when I try to get close to you. No girl’s ever done that before. It’s intriguing, but scary, because you’re the first girl I’ve met that I really don’t want to pull away.”
“That doesn’t make much sense.”
“I know. I’m screwing this up.” He took a deep breath and reached over to grab his guitar. He started playing the first couple of cords to the Johnny Cash version of Hurt. “I don’t know what to say to you, and it’s really frustrating. I’m used to girls coming to me, but with you, it feels like you could take me or leave me.” He strummed a little. “And now it feels like I’m competing with my brothers. I don’t want to hurt them. But part of me would, if it would get me you.”
“I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t want you to fall out with your brothers, especially not over me.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean a part of me doesn’t want to share you with them.”
“What do you want me to do?”
He played quietly for a few minutes. Then, he gazed into my eyes. “I want my own piece of you. I’ve seen the way the other guys are with you, and they all have a piece of you. I want that, too.”
I thought about it for a minute. “My favorite color is blue. I love old rock and roll and grunge music.”
“That’s not what I meant. Something you won’t share with the others, at least not for a while.”
“I’m horrified of scary movies, I haven’t seen one since I was twelve.”
He stopped playing for a second. “Well, that’s something I’ll have to fix, but that’s still not what I meant. I want to know what makes you…you.”
I pondered it some more. “I don’t know what makes me, me. I guess I don’t really know who I am. I’ve spent so much time trying to survive, that I never really spent any time on myself.”
He shifted into a song I’d never heard before. “Well, maybe, I could help you figure it out.”
Leaning in, he kissed me. His lips were soft, and they were a nice contrast from the stubble on his face. I ran my hands along his jawline, allowing his facial hair to scrape along my palm. He put his hands on my waist and pulled me closer to him.
Before I knew it, we laid sideways on his bed, kissing each other. He pulled back, breathing heavily, and searched my eyes, no doubt noticing the fear and guilt in them. “Too fast.” His voice was scratchy, and he cleared his throat while he waited for my response. I nodded.
“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Okay.” He stood up, then reached down to help me up. I froze for a second with him standing above me, a little flushed and his hair mussed, smiling and holding his hand out to me. Something told me this was the start of something, but was I ready to start something?
What about Bishop? Stetson? Matt? I was beginning to feel like a slut. I went from not kissing anyone to kissing four guys, five if you count
Jaidon kissing me on the cheek. But the weirdest thing about all of this was, it felt right with all of them. It wasn’t until afterwards I started questioning my morals.
I shook myself out of it and took Alex’s hand. He pulled me to my feet and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Come on, let’s go get some dinner.”
Bishop ate four servings of spaghetti. Matt ate three. Everyone else, except Joshua, ate two. I glowed with my sense of accomplishment. Daniel and Joshua volunteered to do the dishes after dinner as a thank you for making dinner. If this was the reaction I’d get, I’d definitely make my homemade ravioli next time.
The guys led me out of the kitchen, but instead of leading me toward the living room, they took me down a hallway I hadn’t noticed before. Stetson opened a door that led to a staircase going down into a black pit. Someone flicked on the lights, and I got a view of a finished basement at the bottom of the stairs.
They guided me down the stairs, and I scanned the room. Leather couches and recliners circled a big trunk used for a coffee table. A huge screen covered a wall with what looked like a projector set up in the ceiling.
Stetson deposited me on the couch, and the guys took up positions around me. Alex and Stetson sat across from me on the trunk. Matt sat to my left. Bishop took the seat to my right, and Jaidon pulled me to my feet, then sat and pulled me into his lap. I stiffened until he put his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. I relaxed into him.
“What’s up, guys?”
Alex leaned toward me. “We have something to tell you, but before we do, we want you to promise to hear us out.”
“Okay.” I bit my lip nervously.
“So,” Jaidon said into my ear, “you may have noticed that we all like spending time with you.”
“I like spending time with you, too.”
“That’s good,” Matt said. “The thing is, while we all like to hang out with you... well... you see...”
“Oh, that’s enough!” Stetson groaned. “We want you to date us.”
