The Gamble: A Novel

by Xavier Neal

  She grumbles and closes it.

  Down to the final two apartments, we scroll through the pictures together, both having competitive prices as well as competitive amenities. One offers a huge garden tub while the other offers a walk in glass shower with a built in bench. Both have pools, but one has an additional pool heated, but the other has a sizable hot tub. The list of either ors grows to the point where I convince her she just needs to check out both properties.

  After Alexxa puts the computer on her bedside table, almost knocking over a stack of paperbacks in the process, she curls into me, resting her head on my chest. “You swear you'll come look with me if I need you to?”

  “Of course,” I assure and fold my arms behind my head.

  “You think all my shit will fit?”

  My eyes glance around the room at the flat screen mounted on the wall, the long black dresser underneath it, the black bookshelves where books are stacked haphazardly, and the minor piles of laundry stationed everywhere but her laundry hamper.

  It's not always this bad.

  “You really don't have that much shit,” I counter. “Hell, I think I might have more shit than you.”

  She pokes fun. “Ha-ha. You're a fucking a girl.”

  “Fuck you,” I grunt.

  The feeling of her face curling into a smile pushes mine into one. “Will you come help me move?”

  “Of course. You know if you ever need anything from me all you have to do is ask.”

  Another yawn escapes her and she snuggles in closer. The feeling of her warm breath tempts my eyes to shut. Each shallow peaceful burst of air begins to toy with my imagination.

  Is this how she'll fall sleep in my arms after I sleep with her? Will she just curl up, completely sated, and expect for us to drift off together? Typically, I shower immediately after I fuck and kick them out once I'm dried off if we don't plan to go at it again. If they've fallen asleep, I crash on the couch. I'm not a complete asshole. Sharing a bed with someone I'm fucking isn't a page in my playbook. Never has been. Hell I've got a taxi service saved in my contacts list for that very reason.

  My eyes drift down to Alexxa who is already starting to fall asleep to the sound of Drunk History playing on her television.

  Alexxa's different. It wouldn't be terrible to crash with her. Both my arms around her knowing the reason she can't hold her head up any more is because of me. Because of the way I wore out her body. Because it couldn't take another moment moving. In a way falling asleep with her like this on my chest will be like building the bridge between just friends and friends who fuck. Truth is, I'm beginning to believe just fucking her once won't be enough. If I'm gonna risk our entire friendship might as well make it fucking worth it. Gamble big or don't waste your money. This isn't going to be just some random weekend bone. No. When Alexxa gets in my bed, I'm gonna be a fucking All Star in the sheets. Before fucking half- time she'll be begging to never get traded. Part of me thinks she won't have to beg for that to happen. What the hell is happening to me?

  Alexxa

  Shutting the apartment door to Luca and Warren's apartment, I'm surprised to see neither of them in the living room where they're typically hanging out. I drop the tortilla chips and beer on the kitchen counter before heading to the left for Warren's room. With a light press on his bedroom door, it swings open revealing his very neat, very empty room. I let out a slightly disappointed sigh.

  It's been a few days since I've seen him. Typically this only happens when he's pushed all his shifts together to work harder on his thesis paper. Swear it feels like he's been working on it since college itself was created. Warren is all about the human mind and what it makes it tick. Why people do what they do. He's told me numerous times he believes if you can change a child's conditioning from an early enough age you can stop him from ending up like Luca, a self- proclaimed narcissists with daddy issues. Or maybe it's mommy issues? Not really sure since he rarely talks about either. Luca on the other hand believes in the pure benefits of treating the body like a temple. Letting it teach you everything from confidence to discipline. He's got a solid stance on the importance of children needing the outlet, needing to be outdoors, and needing the community sports creates to grow into healthy well- rounded adults, claiming it's the only way they won't end up over-analyzing the world rather than living in it, like Warren. While they're clashing points of view make for hilarious drunken debates littered with F- bombs and vulgar slurs, I love that at the end of it all, they both have the same goal. They want the next generation to be better, stronger, and healthier than this one. They care about kids and so do I. I'm somewhere in the middle. The emotionally driven one. Give children the freedom to follow their passions. It's what mine gave to me. Sure from the outside it just looks like I'm in the business of exploiting their talent, but I don't feel that way. I feel maybe having someone understand their fears, or their excitement, or their stress and communicating with them about it might make a difference. Think about how many child stars have a mental break down or give up acting, their passion, because somewhere along the way someone forgot to listen. They didn't get a chance to be heard. Not quite a saint here, but you never know when a pep talk about doing what makes you happy might change your life. Bridging the communication gap between them and their parents, between their parents and the agent, might make things better for everyone. Or at least that's the hope. Kinda sound like an idealistic idiot, huh?

  I stroll across the apartment through the large living room and straight for Luca's room. Similar to Warren's door it's slightly cracked except this time when I use the tip of my finger to push it his room is very much occupied. In the bed there's a female with porcelain skin, jet black hair, and her eyes shut tight as she clutches onto Luca for dear life. Her lips look paralyzed in the open position they've taken, however the expression on her face is one of pure ecstasy.

  Um...I should go. I shouldn't...be...looking...at this....

  I try to force myself away yet it doesn't seem to work. Entranced, my eyes zoom in on Luca whose face is buried in the woman's neck while his hips are making sharp jabs. The intricate tattoo on his back of various sports equipment with the words 'Work Hard, Play Harder', a sight I've seen a million times in a million ways, seems to be glistening in glory with every move he makes. The muscles are rippling. Tightening and talking dirty in a way I've never experienced before.

  Unconsciously my mouth clamps shut as my pussy tightens in envy.

  Tell me that's not fucking hot....do you see the way he's moving? God, what would it feel like to be her? To have him filling me to the point I can't even breathe.

  She finally lets a sound escape. Two simple words. “I'm coming...”

  And without missing a beat, Luca swiftly grabs her hands, pins them above her head and drills even harder, her inability to cry out spurring him to work vigorously. To break her. The throbbing between my thighs increases.

  I wanna be her...I wanna feel what that's like...I wanna be her.

  “Alexxa?”

  Startled at the sound of my name, I jump away from the door as if it's burned me.

  Shit!

  I quickly move towards Warren who has just entered the apartment and try to hide my flustered disposition in the process.

  “Th-th-there you are,” my voice struggles to say as I relocate to the kitchen.

  What the hell is the matter with me? I've never watched Luca screw a chick before and trust me there have been other chances. I don't know why I couldn't walk away today. Clearly I need to increase the number of times I'm rubbing one out so this doesn't happen again. It has to be the only reason I was yearning to be that poor, doesn't realize she's just another notch in the bedpost, woman.

  “I um...I was um... beginning to think you weren't gonna be home tonight.”

  “Shift change didn't go as smoothly as I was hoping,” he grumbles and lifts up a bag. “But I did bring you home your favorite cheese enchiladas.”

  “You're so sweet,” I coo with
a small smile.

  All of sudden moans come flooding out of Luca's bedroom forcing me to lean my back against the counter. The sound increases, further dampening my thong. Without my consent my thighs clench tighter together.

  Gotta get this shit in check. Stop it! That's a bad body!

  Rather than comment immediately, Warren gives me one long stare, his analytical mind ripping apart my every subtle movement.

  Fuck, I hate having a therapist in training for a best friend.

  He braces his arms against his work stained t-shirt. “You been here long?”

  “Just...um...a few minutes. Nothing too long.”

  His eyes glance the direction of the fading sounds. “Luca know you're here?”

  I shake my head.

  “Did you check his room to see if he was home?”

  My nod is slow.

  “Did you...” Warren wets his lips clearly struggling for the perfect phrasing. “Witness his latest endeavor.”

  Don't you dare think about selling me out.

  When I don't admit to anything he lowers his voice to a complete whisper, “Alexxa. Did you watch Luca have sex?”

  Embarrassment forces my hands to fly over my face.

  Fuck. I can't believe I did that. I repeat. What the hell is wrong with me?

  There's a small chortle out of him. “You liked it, didn't you?”

  Quickly I drop my hands and snip, “No.”

  Lie. Total lie. I fucking loved it. Give me an underwear check right now and it would be more than enough evidence. It's not because watching other people gets me off, well I guess in a way it does because I like porn as much as the next girl, but if I'm being honest, everything about how he moved down to the way he was fucking breathing was exhilarating. I've always been a little curious about what makes girls paw at his front door like junkies. Of course I've heard the shit he says. The pick-up lines and naughty guarantees. From a distance it looks like he easily fulfills those filthy vows. Maybe there's something inside of me that wants to know what it's like to have the promise made and then executed. Holy shit. I can't believe I'm even considering in a hypothetical sense, having sex with him. Ugh. I need to start drinking.

  “It's cool if you did.” Warren shrugs, reaching for the beer to put in the fridge. “Everyone has their kink. Do you like to watch when a guy strokes himself before you fuck?”

  The question trips my jaw open even though I know I can't answer it.

  Sh. No...don't ask me that.

  After putting the items away in the fridge, he softly continues, “If you're not comfortable telling me what you like in the sack it's not a big deal, Alexxa. I can respect that. I mean I thought we were cool enough but-”

  “It's not that we're not,” my voice rushes to say forgetting for a moment how embarrassing the next part is going to be. “It's just um...I don't know the answer to your question.”

  “You don't know if you like it?”

  “Right.”

  Confused, he leans against the counter opposite of me. “So you're ambivalent then?”

  “Not exactly,” I mumble.

  “What do you mean not exactly? There's not really a fourth option here. You either like it or you don't or you couldn't care either way. I mean the only way there would be a fourth option is if-” His voice stops short as his eyes bulge from skull. “If you're a-”

  My hand swiftly flies over his mouth. In a low growl, I threaten, “If you finish that sentence so help me God I'll literally castrate you right here in the kitchen.”

  Warren’s eyes whimper for him.

  Very carefully I remove my hand. “I am.”

  You too. No shrieking or screaming the information. It's bad enough it's true. I don't need it to be a Facebook headline.

  Shock and awe fill his whisper alike. “How is that fucking possible? With all due respect, you're not exactly a frumpy dumpty or some halo wearing school girl. You're a grown ass woman who, again with all due respect, probably looks fucking amazing naked.”

  A sweet sigh comes from me. “Thanks. I do look pretty amazing naked.”

  What? I do!

  “What gives? Waiting for marriage or some shit?”

  I shake my head profusely and lean back against the counter opposite of him. “No. It just never happened. You know, guys rarely make it to the third date, and forgive me for not wanting to give it up on the first night. I'm not needing you to put a ring on it, but I'm not looking to be that thing you brag about over breakfast with the bros either.”

  Probably doesn't help I am one of the bros who hears the brags over breakfast. Luca's conquests typically make for some sort of first meal conversation, sometimes briefly, sometimes in detail and while I can't pin point exactly the last time Warren got some, I do know it was definitely the topic around the toaster waffles we were having.

  “You're just waiting for a boyfriend then?”

  An innocent shrug escapes. “Guess so.”

  “And you've never had a boyfriend?” Before I have a chance to answer he rambles, “You've never had a boyfriend since we've been friends with you. You could've and kept him from us but that doesn't seem likely. Hell, you spend most of your free time with the two of us. We would've noticed. Well, maybe not Luca. If you're not on ESPN or trying to suck his dick while he's watching it, he doesn't typically notice.”

  I stifle my giggle.

  So fucking true. Well, for the most part.

  “Not in high school? College?”

  “High school I had ugly duckling syndrome. Total tom boy look with a pair of tits I kept under lock and key. Having gorgeous older sisters overshadowed any real chance I probably had. And in college well...I ended up being the bro never the ho'.”

  He chuckles again. “Well said.”

  It was, wasn't it?

  I pull my dark brown hair to one side of my face. “Anyway, it's not that big of a deal-”

  “You're twenty- eight. You really wanna tell me it's not that big of a deal?”

  “Well, I'm not fucking thirty, so yeah. I'd say I've still got two years before it's a bigger fucking deal.”

  Right?

  “But it is the reason I don't know if I'm into that type of stuff or not.”

  “What about all the foreplay shit? You've at least done that....haven't you?”

  “My bases haven't exactly been crossed by anyone other than myself.”

  “This is a total mind fuck right now,” Warren whispers. “Seriously.”

  “It's not like I go around advertising it. So you don't either, or not having a dick will be the problem you have to worry about instead of not having it touched. Got it?”

  My threat receives a nod before he argues, “You know my dry spell hasn't been that long.”

  I give him a sarcastic look.

  “Fuck. Fine. It's like my virginity is growing back,” he groans. After getting another giggle from me, he walks over, and drops an arm around my shoulder. “Come on. Let's go watch a couple episodes of Dexter, that should sufficiently kill any horniness that's lingering in either of us.”

  The two of us move to the couch, turn on the T.V., and change topics to how horrible his work day was. Between beers one and two, he explains how he hates the new manager they've hired. To my surprise, he also lets it slip there's a chick he's pretty sure is banging the new boss. As time rolls forward, the activities on the other side of the living room wall fade completely from our attention, becoming the faint background noise it always does. The two of us munch, drink more beer, and eventually start predicting where we think the show is going.

  Could just look it up on IMBD or one of the other spoiler show zones, but that's less fun. Poorly guessing where shit is headed is one of the things Warren and I do together. It's our little ritual.

  After a few hours and beers, Warren is stretched out on the couch with me nestled directly beside him.

  Eh, don't be all judgy. We've always been like this. Letting me fall asleep on them or beside is more of a big b
rother thing than romantic. Trust me.

  On a small yawn I announce, “There's a good chance I'm gonna pass out.”

  His chest vibrates with a small laugh. “What else is new?”

  “Shut up,” I grumble and let my eyes close.

  “Alexxa you fall asleep on these couches at least once a week.”

  “They shouldn't be so comfortable.” Nestling in closer to him I add, “You shouldn't be so comfortable.”