Sweet tb-2

by Erin McCarthy

  The thought was alien. I had wanted to ditch work plenty of times, but not for the simple reason that I wanted to see a guy. It was scary. I was sharing my feelings with him and wanting to be with him all the time.

  I was pretty sure this meant that I was emotionally invested, aka emotionally screwed.

  He laughed and it ended in a cough, a real hacking sound that was not normal for a twenty-five-year-old. “Sorry,” he said when it petered out. “The tuberculosis is kicking up.”

  “Ha ha. Maybe you should try quitting smoking.”

  “Maybe you should try quitting nagging.”

  I was nagging. I sounded like a bitchy wife. “Doesn’t mean I’m not right.” Let him argue with that logic.

  “I’ll quit someday. Just not today. Besides, I can just about guarantee I’m in better shape than you. I haul roofing materials all day and I go to the gym.”

  “You also eat fried foods. And I’m reasonably athletic,” I protested. “I was on the volleyball team in high school.”

  “I’m doing a Warrior Dash on Saturday. Want to do it with me?”

  “What’s that?” I asked, suspicious. I was fairly certain I was being tricked into something heinous.

  “It’s an obstacle course, where you scale a wall and stuff like that. Once you finish, they give you beer. People of all ages and levels of endurance do it, and there are no high speeds or demons.”

  He was just a regular Jimmy Fallon. “I could probably do that.” Though I didn’t exactly sound enthusiastic. “I like beer.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said. “It requires determination and a willingness to get dirty. But maybe you can come and just cheer me on.”

  Hello. Just because I was blond didn’t mean I was going to be relegated to the role of cheerleader in a tight T-shirt. “I can get dirty. I’m determined. Screw you, Mann. Tell me when and where.”

  I could practically hear him grinning. “You are so easy to manipulate.”

  How amusing. Not. “Dick.” Though I had walked right into that one.

  “What?”

  “You know. But fine, I’ll still do it. Now I have a point to prove and maybe you’ll stop calling me princess.”

  “I already have. Pita.”

  “How about no nicknames unless they start with Sexy?”

  “No. That shows no imagination.”

  Winning. “I’m okay with cliché as long as it references my beauty.”

  “We can talk about your beauty later. Right now I have to go to work.”

  “Work sucks.”

  “Tell me about it. I’ll call you later.” He made exaggerated and obnoxious kissing sounds into the phone.

  I laughed. “Oh, God, never make that sound again.”

  * * *

  Wednesday night after he picked me up, we went back to his house and played video games in the hot living room. “So who do you normally hang out with?” I asked, thumbs moving fast on my controller.

  “I don’t know. I’m either at work or the gym or with my brothers. Sometimes I grab a beer with the guys I work with.”

  “Maybe we should invite some people over sometime.”

  “You mean, like a party?” he asked, glancing over at me.

  “No. I guess we really can’t do that. Not with the boys and social workers and all that. I meant more just like, maybe you could introduce me to your friends.” The minute it was out of my mouth, I wanted to retract the statement. It was so “girlfriend.” So needy.

  “I don’t have any friends. I have coworkers I grab a beer with. I have Tyler and Nathan and that’s about it. You’re dating a loser. There is still time for you to bail if you want.”

  “Don’t be self-deprecating. It’s not a good look on you.” I dodged a missile on the screen. “I don’t have a lot of true friends either. Just Rory and Kylie and Robin.” The rest were fringe.

  “Robin’s the hot one, right?” he asked, voice teasing.

  “I will cut you if you say that again.”

  “And you were worried about my jealousy? Damn.”

  “Maybe we could have a cookout or something for your friends and my friends.” Why was I still pushing this? I wasn’t even sure what I was pushing.

  “Why do we have to be with other people? Can’t I just be with you?” He paused the game and tossed his controller on the coffee table. “Come here, weirdo.”

  He pulled me into his arms and I settled with my back against his chest. “What are you really asking for, Jess?”

  “I don’t know,” I told him honestly. “I don’t really have any idea how to date someone. I haven’t had a boyfriend since my junior year in high school.”

  “Well, I’ve never had a boyfriend so you’re one step ahead of me.”

  Oh, God. I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see them. “Cute.”

  Tyler came into the living room from the kitchen. He saw us sitting together and made a face.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I miss Rory.”

  “It’s been two days,” Riley protested. “How much can you miss her?”

  “Easy for you to say when you have Jessica’s ass resting on your junk.”

  Suddenly Riley stiffened. “Hey, look, man, I know I’m supposed to be all cool with whatever you and Jess did before, but the truth is, I’m not. I’m trying but it’s hard, so just leave my girlfriend’s ass out of our conversations, okay?”

  My cheeks started to burn. I wanted to protest that Tyler hadn’t said anything suggestive at all, that he was talking about missing Rory, but my gut said that would make it worse. Instead, I just linked my hand through Riley’s, trying to convey that I was with him and he needed to chill.

  “Girlfriend, huh?” was what Tyler said. “I never saw that one coming, but I have to say, the two of you make sense together.”

  Now I was really embarrassed. I turned to Riley. “Yeah, girlfriend?”

  He shrugged. “You got a problem with that?”

  It was so utterly unromantic that I grinned, feeling much better about the whole thing. He was just as awkward as I was, and it was a huge relief. I didn’t feel so insane for suggesting he introduce me to his friends.

  “Dude, you have no game,” Tyler told him.

  “Fuck you,” Riley responded. “She never wanted to date you, did she? Yet she’s dating me.”

  Fortunately, Tyler just laughed, throwing his hands up. “True. See, it all worked out the way it was supposed to. Now can you just accept that Jess and I are friends, always have been, and stop making her feel uncomfortable?”

  “Can you just go away?”

  Easton came streaking out of the kitchen in nothing but a pair of basketball shorts, running out of the front door. “Where the hell are you going?” Riley roared after him.

  “He has a bug up his ass about catching fireflies since Rory’s dad showed him how to catch them and release them before they croak.”

  For some reason, Riley sighed. “You know the next time the social worker shows up, it will be an unannounced visit.”

  “So?” Tyler shrugged. “It’s all going to be fine. Easton has gained ten pounds since Mom died and he’s grown like half an inch. He even talks more. His teachers at the end of the year said he was doing better. Don’t borrow trouble, man.”

  I found it interesting that the dynamic in the house had changed since the boys were back. Riley was less relaxed. While he had been worried about Easton and the impending social worker visit, he hadn’t been on edge like this. That Tyler was always so calm seemed to make Riley wind tighter. I sensed a wall kicking in the near future.

  That tension was why he wasn’t interested in having sex with me. That’s what I told myself when Riley drove me back to my apartment an hour later and just idled the car, his goodnight kiss distracted.

  “Wear clothes that can get dirty for the Warrior Dash,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at eight Saturday morning.”

  Gross. I wished I’d had that information before I’d said yes
. I also wished that he would show the slightest bit of interest in seeing me between now and then. It was only Wednesday. And if we had to get up at the crack of dawn on Saturday, wouldn’t it make sense for me to stay over with him Friday night?

  And have sex?

  I wasn’t sure how to approach the subject though without looking needy. “What are you doing Friday?”

  “Working. Sleeping.”

  Not the answer I was looking for. Apparently I needed some romance. Not a lot. But an ounce.

  But I was not about to beg for it. I climbed out of the car. “Talk to you later.”

  “Bye.”

  That was it?

  I slammed the door shut behind me, climbing the stairs to my apartment with angry stomps of my sandals.

  My new roommate was in her room and clearly not alone. The sound of desperate moans of pleasure, interspersed with male grunts, filled the air.

  Fabulous. Everyone was getting some but me.

  * * *

  “I guess I wasn’t clear on the dress code,” Riley said, eyeing my hot pink sports bra and black volleyball shorts as I climbed into his car Saturday morning.

  “What? You said it’s an obstacle course. This is my workout outfit.”

  “I also said it should be something you don’t mind getting dirty. This looks like you’re going to film an erotic workout video.”

  “What the hell is an erotic workout video?” I lifted his coffee mug out of the holder and sniffed. “Is this from today or is it old?”

  “It’s from today.”

  I took a sip.

  “Yes, you can have a sip.”

  That would be my tongue sticking out at him.

  “I’m serious. You should go change.”

  “Is this some jealousy thing again?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his temples like I gave him a headache. “Just get a T-shirt. Please.”

  “Can’t I just wear yours? I don’t feel like climbing all those stairs again.”

  Riley gave me a long look. “You don’t want to take the stairs. But you’re about to enter a Warrior Dash.”

  “I’m saving my energy. We can T-shirt share. Like a time-share, only less expensive.”

  “You make me want to drink and it’s only 8 a.m.”

  “Then my work is done here.” I stared him down.

  Finally, he sighed and put the car into reverse. Ha. I won.

  Except it was an empty victory when I saw what the obstacle course actually looked like. “Riley! You did not tell me I would be crawling through mud!”

  “I said wear clothes to get dirty.”

  “Dirty and covered in mud from head to toe are two different things.” I was watching in horror as person after person dragged themselves on their bellies through a sloppy pit to touch dangling flags. Then there was the wall scaling. And the jumping over a line of fire. What the hell?

  “What about this is supposed to be fun?”

  “It’s sweaty, messy fun.”

  “That’s sex.” Of which we were having none.

  He frowned at me. “You don’t have to do it.”

  “Well, of course I’m going to do it. I’m just a little surprised. Besides, I like to complain.”

  “Really? I never noticed.” He laced his fingers through mine. “I bet you make this obstacle course your bitch.”

  Holding hands in public was a new thing for me, and I had a weird appreciation for why people did it. It made me feel . . . wanted. Taken care of. I can’t say I’d felt that way in a long time. On the other hand, it felt a little like gloating—like look at me with my hot boyfriend. But I was okay with that.

  Riley had taken off his shirt and yanked it on over my head. I don’t think it was a total coincidence that he did it after a guy in his thirties was checking me out. With my free hand, I traced the tattoo on his chest, trying to make sense of the dark figure and all the shading. “What is this, anyway?”

  “I’m not telling you.”

  “Excuse me? Why not?” I leaned forward to study his chest a little closer. “Wait a minute. Is that a demon? With wings?”

  “It may or may not be a demon or it may or may not be the devil.”

  “Holy crap!” Horror rushed over me. I had been okay with thinking it was a weird werewolf or a monster from a video game or a comic. But the devil? The Big S? The ultimate demon of all demons? “How am I supposed to cuddle on your chest knowing my head is resting on Lucifer?”

  “It wasn’t something I particularly planned out,” he admitted. “But if it’s any consolation it’s meant to symbolize conquering your demons.”

  Now that I knew what it was, there was no denying it. It was hard to see why I hadn’t been able to pick that evil face out of the black swirls before. I stared at it so long, the lines started to blur. The devil had particularly menacing teeth. “I’m speechless.”

  “Now I know my secret weapon to get you to shut up.”

  I twisted his nipple.

  “Ow, Jess.” He rubbed his chest. “You fight dirty.”

  “Remember that.” I looked back at the course. “Okay, so how does this work?”

  “You’re in the eighteen-to-twenty-four age bracket. They run heats of competitors in each bracket so everyone isn’t out there at once.”

  “I’d rather go up against the sixty year olds. But okay, fine.”

  He explained the course, and in another five minutes, they were calling us for line up. I had been hoping I would get to see Riley do it first, but no such luck.

  “You got this,” he told me, sounding way more confident than I felt.

  But I was nothing if not stubborn. I figured I could power my way through the course. Which is what I did. Leaping over the fire was no big deal. The wall wasn’t that tough either, and I gained ground on some of the other competitors by showing no hesitation in just dropping the five feet from the top down the other side, landing with an oomph on the soft ground. Only one other girl just free-fell like I did. The others eased themselves down, and I felt a certain triumph. What I had loved about volleyball was the jump, the hit, the power. The pure adrenaline that came from rushing the net and stuffing an opponent.

  The control.

  I pushed it hard, the buzzing in my ears, the crowd yelling, and the rush of my burning lungs. Okay, I’m not going to lie. When I dropped in the mud pit, the first slap of hot sludge sliding over made me want to gag, and an army crawl through slop is harder than it looks. But using my elbows and my thighs, I hauled myself through and scrambled to my feet, my hair falling out of my ponytail and slapping me in the cheek with a wet layer of mud. For a second I couldn’t see, but as I ran in the general direction of the finish line, I swiped at my eyes with the one spot on my forearm that was clean. I saw that Riley was at the finish line yelling for me, a grin splitting his face.

  In my wave of competitors, I finished second behind the girl who had jumped with me. Stumbling to a stop, I sucked in a few deep breaths and slapped Riley’s hands, which he had raised for a double high five. A high ten.

  “Babe, that was awesome!” he said. “You killed it!”

  “Told you,” I wheezed. Then I leaned forward and wiped my muddy hands on his chest.

  Instead of being pissed, he laughed. He grabbed both my dirty cheeks and gave me a kiss.

  “When is your turn?” I asked, still breathing hard. “I’m dying of thirst and I want to steal your beer.”

  “I think I have a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” I peeled off his T-shirt and slapped the muddy mess against his chest. “Here’s your shirt back.”

  He cocked his head. “Oh, you are just asking for it.”

  “Yes, I am.” I grinned before throwing my arms around his neck, rubbing my body against his, the shirt wedged between us. “Kiss me.”

  Riley laughed and ran his hands all over my muddy ass before letting them rest on my back. “Too bad there are a hundred people around us.”

  That was what I had
been waiting to hear—that there was some hint he wanted me the way I wanted him.

  But his kiss was sweet, not intense.

  Damn the crowd.

  When Riley’s heat went, I was stunned watching him. His focus and intensity were unreal. He didn’t look at any of the other guys, and his trajectory was completely straight, his feet eating up the course at top speed. He was up the wall in two leaps, and down the other side. I wondered if he had played sports in high school because he moved like an athlete, his arms tucked in close to his abs. Unlike me, he didn’t flop into the mud like a tripped hippo, but he crouched low and covered half the pit with one leap forward.

  Sexy. I was warm from more than the hot sun beating down on me.

  Shielding my eyes so I could see, I slipped in between two women in their forties to watch him overtake the guy in front.

  “Yummy,” the one said to the other. “I love me some tattooed boys.”

  Normally, I would have just listened in silent amusement. But I felt a wave of territorialism and the need to claim and brag. It was a foreign feeling, and before I knew it I was blurting out, “That’s my boyfriend.”

  They glanced over at me, smiling. “He’s very pretty,” the one said. “And with such a hard body. What a perfect combo. Enjoy him.”

  She was right, but wow, that was pure objectification of another human being. I knew my friends and I did that, too, but hearing it said about Riley made me realize girls were no better than guys when it came to checking out the opposite sex.

  So I said, “Thanks. He’s very sweet.” Which just made them laugh.

  But then I had no time for them because Riley finished the race in first place, looking barely winded.

  “See?” he said when I made my way over to him. “Smoking doesn’t even affect me.”

  I snorted. “That is the worst justification I’ve ever heard.” But I reached for his hand. “But that was an awesome job. You were like a mud ninja out there.”

  “Thanks. We need a picture of us. Where’s your phone?”

  “In my fanny pack,” I deadpanned. “In the car, where do you think?”

  “God, you’re such a brat. Go get it while I get my beer. Of which you can have none because you’re underage.”