by CJ Martín
Her grubby fingers snatch the frame and she nods. “Cute. Nice bod.” For some reason her comment rattles me. It’s not jealousy, per se, but I don’t like how she’s sizing him up. She’s obviously attracted to him. Would he be attracted to her? Why do I even care?
“You have a boyfriend,” I remind her, as I grab the frame back and align it with the rest.
“Doesn’t mean I’m blind.” She clicks her tongue. “Besides, I think you’ve got that market cornered.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I question, not in a bitchy way, but more of in an I’m-so-confused-right-now sort of way.
“Puh-lease.” She sashays across the room before sitting on her desk chair. She spins dramatically to face me. “You two have a thing.”
My mouth hangs open. “Yeah, I know, the best friend thing.” I enunciate the word friend just to prove my point, and then add, “I’ve known him since we were five. He’s like my brother.”
“So, you’ve never…?” She makes a crude gesture with her mouth and hand, mimicking a blowjob.
My face flames red. “What? No!” I grab the nearest pillow and throw it at her, even though my mind instantly darts to the kiss we shared in his bedroom many months ago. It felt like something, something more. Shaking my head to dismiss the thought, I ask, “What part of ‘we’re friends’ don’t you get?”
“You’re an absolute idiot if you don’t hit that. That boy is fine.”
“Whatever.” I open my laptop, swapping one torturous activity for another; time to review my chem notes. “We don’t think of each other that way.”
“Nope.” The “p” pops as she says the word. “Don’t buy it.” She gathers her shower caddy. “Boys and girls can’t be friends. At some point, someone always wants more.”
“Not us,” I say, more out of habit than actual agreement.
“Mark my words.” She grabs her robe off the peg near the door. “One day, I’ll happily say I told you so.”
I’m not sure how long I stare at the door after she’s gone, pondering her words. I’m used to people questioning our relationship. Hell, I endured enough jealous sneers and underhanded comments throughout high school from petty, stuck-up girls who tried to stake their claim. But for once, I wonder if Liza’s right. Maybe Jesse and I aren’t that different, after all. And if we aren’t, which one of us will fall first?
13
Riley
The following Friday, my afternoon class is canceled (thank you, Professor Winko!), so I was able to catch an earlier bus than expected.
Jesse attends Briar University, a private university with a long history of winning basketball titles. I don’t know much about their academic program, but then again, I suspect Jesse doesn’t either; he went there for one reason and one reason only…to play basketball.
Briar is only ninety-miles from my campus, but the bus ride is slow and takes well over four hours because of the many stops on its route. This is the first time I’m making the journey, and I suspect it may be the last; the bus is cramped and smells like dirty feet.
Because Jesse lives in an all-guys dorm, there is a strict no-overnight policy in place regarding members of the opposite sex (I checked the website, twice). He has assured me that no one cares and/or enforces said policy. Still, when I arrive, I curl my long ponytail underneath my hat to draw less attention to myself. The oversized, baggy sweatshirt doesn’t hurt, either.
I find his dorm, Nickeleroo Hall, rather easily. The campus is littered with “You are Here Maps,” not to mention, Jesse texted me explicit directions yesterday since he’s well aware of my penchant for getting lost.
As I approach the dorm, there are two guys scanning their ID badges at the entrance, and I jog to sneak in behind them before the door slams closed. Double-checking Jesse’s text, I find the south elevator and make my way to the seventh floor.
I knock twice before a tall, muscled, bald guy answers the door. My eyes drop to my phone and I double check the number: 713. According to Jesse’s text, I’m in the right place, but I distinctly remember Jesse saying his roommate is blond. Which begs the question—
“Can I help you?” The guy interrupts my thoughts.
“Hi.” I clear my throat and extend my free hand. “I’m Riley.” When he doesn’t immediately respond, I clarify. “I’m here to see Jesse.”
He glances at my hand one more time but doesn’t take it. Instead, he opens the door wider and calls over his shoulder, “Yo, Sam Adams, your friend is here.”
Sam Adams? I scrunch my nose. What the…?
As I enter, another door on the far end of the room opens, and Jesse emerges, a huge smile lighting his face. “Riley.”
He drops the hand towel onto the desk and rushes toward me, sweeping me into his arms. He sighs into my neck and squeezes a little tighter before releasing me.
Once I’m back on my feet he says, “You’re early.”
I nod. “Yep, my afternoon class was canceled, so I was able to get an earlier bus.”
“I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.” His voice is uncharacteristically tight, and I think I catch a deeper meaning to his words.
“Me, too,” I agree.
A throat clearing breaks the moment and we pull apart.
Jesse steps back a few more paces so the three of us form a perfect triangle. “Riley, this is Lucas. Lucas, Riley.”
Lucas’ eyes drift between Jesse and me as though trying to figure out our relationship, but by this point, I’m used to the funny looks and misassumptions. Chill out, dude. We’re just friends. Finally he says, “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” I nod.
Lucas’ eyes bore into Jesse’s, and there’s a noticeable shift in energy because the vibe in the room no longer feels welcoming or laid back. Deciding to give them a moment to diffuse whatever has blossomed between them, I ask, “Mind if I use the bathroom?”
“Sure.” Jesse leads me to the door where he just came from. “It’s a quad,” he explains, “so make sure to lock both doors.”
“Okay,” I agree and close the door behind me.
I pee and wash my hands, then decide to check my hair and makeup in the mirror to kill some more time. The walls are paper-thin, though, and I can hear every tense word of the boys’ conversation.
“Dude, you didn’t tell me Ryan was a girl.” Lucas sounds pissed.
Oh, shit. He told Lucas my name was Ryan? Did he want Lucas to think I was a guy? Wtf?
“What does it matter?” Jesse fires back.
Lucas snorts. “I planned on staying here this weekend. I’m not about to relocate so you can fuck your girlfriend.”
My mouth hangs open, and despite myself, my skin heats at his words. Me. Jesse. Fucking. Why does that thought cause something deep within my belly to flutter?
“It’s not like that,” Jesse replies. “Riley and I are friends.”
Lucas snorts again, I guess in disbelief, but then his tone changes. “Is she single?”
Jesse’s response is quick. “I think so, why?”
“She’s hot.”
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Jesse’s voice warns.
Lucas chuckles and then clicks his tongue. “‘Just friends’, my ass.”
Having heard enough, I plaster a big smile on my face, emerge from the bathroom, and arrange my features to neutral. “So, what are we doing this weekend?” I glance from Jesse to Lucas in an attempt to show him that he’s included in whatever Jesse and I have planned. We are just friends. We’re not together. We most definitely are not fucking.
“Nothing’s really going on tonight. Thought we could order a pizza and watch a movie?”
Lucas doesn’t hide his eye roll, and although he mutters under his breath, I hear the words clearly. “Netflix and chill. Friends, riiiight.”
Jesse either doesn’t hear him or chooses to ignore him. He continues on, “There’s a party at Epsilon Phi tomorrow night. Couple of friends are going, if you want to check it o
ut.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. “Sounds good.”
My gaze shifts to Lucas, who’s stuffing a pair of sweatpants in a duffle bag with more force than necessary.
I turn back to Jesse and mouth, “Where’s he going?” but he just shrugs.
After a minute, Lucas swings the strap over his shoulder and narrows his gaze at Jesse. “I’m out.”
Jesse tips his chin in agreement, but I can’t stand to be the reason why he and his roommate are fighting, so I stop Lucas with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.”
Lucas glances at where my fingers rest on his bicep, then to Jesse, then back to me. “Yeah?”
“Stay.” I pull my hand away. “We’re just gonna watch a movie and eat pizza.”
“Yeah?” Lucas leaves his gaze pinned on Jesse, even though he addresses me. “That right?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “We’re just friends.”
Lucas’ grin is devilish. “In that case, I’ll take pepperoni.”
Despite Lucas’ frosty welcome, he’s actually pretty chill. As the night wore on, he told me a few interesting stories about Jesse—much to Jesse’s displeasure. I especially liked learning that more than half of the freshmen class refers to Jesse as Sam Adams because he dressed up as the historical figure for the Theta Kappa Halloween party. According to Lucas, he even carried a six-pack of Sam Adams beer to complete the look.
Laughing, I turn to Jesse. “You never told me that.”
He shrugs and dips his head.
“I’d have loved to have seen that.” I shake my head and ask Lucas, “Please tell me you took pictures.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Although Lily might have some.”
My nose scrunches. “Who’s Lily?”
“No one,” Jesse answers quickly, but Lucas whistles.
“No one? She’d punch you in the junk if she heard you say that.”
“Lily and I aren’t together.” Jesse defends himself.
“Jes.” I roll my shoulders. “I know you hook up. I think it’s kinda cute that you have a girlfriend.”
“Yeah, Jes.” Lucas’ voice takes on a mocking tone. “Besides, you and Riley are just friends, right?”
Jesse’s eyes bore into Lucas’, and for a moment they just stare at one another. When it’s clear neither one is going to back down, I say, “I’m super tired. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah.” Jesse turns to me. “You okay with sharing the bed?”
My eyes drift over the narrow twin bed. There’s no way we’d be able to both fit without touching…in all kinds of inappropriate places.
Sensing my hesitation, he offers. “I could sleep on the floor.”
From near his desk, Lucas snorts, and I hear him mumble. “Gross.”
“No, no.” My hand reaches for Jesse to stop him from moving. “It’s fine. We can share. I mean, it’s no different than when we were younger, right?”
Jesse pauses for a moment, a heaviness settles over him, or maybe it’s resignation, but then he finally says, “Right.”
Twenty minutes later, after we’ve both washed and dressed for bed, Jesse pulls up the comforter, tucks it around us, and easy as one-two-three, I find myself back in Jesse Collins’ bed. And I have to admit, it’s a pretty damn good place to be.
14
Riley
The next night, Lucas, Jesse, and I squish onto the campus tram, appropriately nicknamed the “Triple B”—the Briar Barf Bus—to take us across campus to the Epsilon Phi party. According to Jesse, this is the “it” fraternity, and every Saturday the party is bigger than the previous week.
Case in point: tonight’s theme is “Suds and Sips.” From the moment we step off the bus and onto the front lawn, there are bubbles everywhere. I’m not gonna lie; I’m über excited for this party, especially since the small college I attend has no Greek life whatsoever.
Much like the bus, the party is jam-packed, hundreds of bodies sandwiched together like sardines, so that it takes us nearly twenty minutes to make it past the front hall. So far, three people have stepped on my feet (only one apologized) and some girl wearing a too-small tube top sloshed her beer all down the sleeve of my blouse. #Rude
Jesse snakes his arm around my waist and leans in close to my ear, his breath whispering across my skin. “Want a beer?”
I nod my head, even though I can’t stand the smell of beer, let alone the taste.
“Yes.”
“Be right back.” His fingers squeeze my hip before he turns and walks toward the kitchen where the keg’s set up.
It’s loud and I know no one else, so I fish my phone out of my back jeans pocket to check my messages. I smile as a picture of Liza lights up my screen. It’s a selfie of her in our tiny dorm room wearing a low cut dress with the caption, “When the roommate’s away, Liza gets to play ;) Scott thanks you in advance.”
A shudder and giggle roll through me simultaneously. I’m equal parts relieved not to be there for her and Scott’s sexfest—I’ve been subjected to that particular treat one too many times—but I’m also amused by her straightforwardness.
“Why you smiling, Ry?” Jesse hands me a red Solo cup filled with pale gold liquid.
“It’s nothing.” I shake my head, but he grabs my phone anyway, so I explain the photo. “My roommate.”
His eyes assess the photo. “This is Liza?” He angles his head toward me, and when I confirm his suspicions, he continues, “Shit. She has tits for days.”
My nerves prickle, not in jealousy, per se, but in overall annoyance of his immaturity. “God.” I snatch the phone from his hands and shove it into my back pocket. “Do you have to be such a guy?”
He laughs. “I am a guy.”
“Clearly,” I grumble, as I press the cup against my lips and wince when the lukewarm froth hits my tongue. My face scrunches in distaste. “This is gross.”
He chuckles. “Miller Lite at its finest. Come on.” He slips his arm around me once again. “Let’s get this party started.”
By the time we make it back to the dorm, Jesse and I are both rocking a slight buzz. Okay, his may be more than slight. I stopped after two and a half beers, because even though the taste grew marginally more tolerable, it was still pretty disgusting.
Jesse lets me use the bathroom first. As I wash and change my clothes, my body takes on a loose quality. It’s as though I’m dreaming, the edges blurred and fuzzy, and my skin is so freakin’ hot that I think I may combust. Maybe this explains why I forget to put on my pajama bottoms, and emerge wearing only a thin camisole and panties.
Jesse’s eyes dilate as I enter the room, but I tell myself it’s due to the alcohol and not because of me. Or my lack of pants. I sink into the bed, and minutes later, when he crawls in beside me, his bare skin presses against my back. Holy shit. Is he naked?
Needing to know, I reach my hand against his hip and feel the smooth cotton of his boxer briefs. When I pull my hand back, my fingers accidentally drag across his… Oh my God. Is he hard?
He swallows a low groan in his throat.
“Sorry.” My voice squeaks and I snatch my hand away as though I’ve been scalded. I don’t know why, but something feels different tonight. Something feels less innocent. Maybe it’s because Lucas is still out. Or maybe it’s because Jesse snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me flush against him. Or maybe it’s because we’re nearly naked and his thick erection pokes my hip. Yeah, that could be why.
A shudder passes through me when his lips graze my ear, and he whispers, “I’m so glad you’re here, Ry.”
“Me, too.” I try to keep my voice calm as I ghost my fingers along his forearm. Isn’t it funny how you can know someone forever but still discover new things about him? For example, the thickness, the cut of Jesse’s muscles, so strong, so hard—how did I not notice until now?
My body quivers as soft lips graze my neck, and the hand that was firmly planted around my waist begins to move in slow, soft sweeping strokes, side to side.
> I hold myself ramrod straight. My throat is tight and dry, making me unable to force any words out. I’m unsure of what is happening between us, but I’m feeling things. Things I shouldn’t. Things that can only lead to trouble.
He’s drunk. I remind myself. He’s horny—of that much I can be certain. He thinks I’m someone—
“Riley.” His voice groans, causing my skin to erupt in goose pimples.
His hand drifts lower, sweeps up my thigh.
And…I don’t stop him.
I.
Don’t.
Stop.
Him.
What the fuck am I doing? I’m not drunk. I should stop this. Stop him before we cross a line that can’t be uncrossed, but still I lie there, a prisoner to my own body. To its wants. Its needs. Because this feels good. He feels good.
He stops, rests the flat of his hand just above the top of my panties, waiting, seeking permission. Say something, Riley. Tell him to stop. He won’t even remember this tomorrow.
After a moment’s pause, when I’ve still said nothing, the pad of his finger drags across the center of my panties. My nails dig into his hard flesh and my toes curl. I gasp. “Jesse.” It never felt this way with Tod.
Two fingers now, thick and solid, smooth over the delicate fabric, the friction exquisite. My thighs clench together, trying to capture and hold onto the sensation, but his hand works between my legs, parting them.
I moan when his fingers slip underneath the band, touching me right there. My mind kicks into overdrive. This is wrong, no matter how good it feels. This is Jesse. My best friend. “Jesse.” My voice is meant to warn, but it sounds desperate and needy.
“Riley,” he murmurs my name again, lips latching onto my neck and biting gently. “Turn around.” His voice is eager. “Baby, please turn around.”
