Forever: A Friends Novel

by Monica Murphy

  “Okay,” I say weakly, thankful he’s not taking me back to my bedroom first thing. I’m nervous enough. We need to lead up to this slowly.

  He takes my hand and we settle onto the couch, our legs pressed next to each other’s as he slips his arm around my shoulders. I lean my head against him and breathe in his woodsy scent. “How was your dinner?”

  “Total bullshit.”

  I lift my head so I can look at his face. His jaw is tight, his eyes narrowed as he stares straight ahead. I refuse to let his closed off expression deter me. “You don’t want to talk about it?”

  Jordan exhales loudly and gives a slight shake of his head. “Not really, but I don’t want to shut you out either.”

  So that’s what it feels like when your own words are thrown back at you. “If you’d rather talk about something else, I understand. I know your parents are a—sensitive subject.”

  He glances down at me, his expression sincere. “I honestly don’t know what to say. It’s the same thing with them, every single time. They try and tell me what to do. They try and control every aspect of my life, especially my father. They spent the entire dinner talking at me and not listening to a word I said, so eventually I shut up and tuned them out.”

  That sounds so awful. No wonder he acts the way he does. It sounds like no one has ever treated him nicely. Or shown him any love. Not even any kindness. “Why do they want to control you so much?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugs and I rest my head on his shoulder once more. “Because they can? Because they think they own me? It’s not like they care about me or about what I do. Only if it messes with their idea of what’s proper or not.”

  His parents sound like monsters. I met them both only once, and that one time we saw his dad doesn’t really count. Though the time I met his mom had been incredibly awkward too.

  I rest my hand on his thigh and give it a squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “That you have such awful parents.”

  “It’s not your fault my parents are awful.” He goes quiet for a moment. “Sometimes I wonder why they even bothered having me. I feel like I’m more of a nuisance to them than anything else. They’ve always done whatever they want—who cares about the kid? They’ve never given me any of their time, even when I was younger and really needed it, you know?”

  We always need time from our parents, but I don’t say it.

  “Yet they have these endless expectations on me. All of these demands that supposedly mean something to them and our family name. My father likes to say that a lot. Keeping up the family name. It’s a bunch of bullshit.” He sounds absolutely disgusted. “And if I don’t meet their expectations, if I don’t do exactly what they want, then I’m a complete disappointment.”

  “Are you serious?” I’m outraged. Like seriously outraged on his behalf. “How can you not meet their expectations? You’re smart, you’re a star football player, you don’t get into trouble—”

  He interrupts me. “Oh, I’ve gotten in trouble. You just don’t hear about it because my dad pays off whoever he has to so he can keep it under wraps.”

  My curiosity shoots way up but I can’t focus on that right now. “Whatever. Don’t we all get in trouble sometimes?” Well, not me. Not until last summer when I started hanging out with Jordan. Not that he makes me a bad person, but…

  He makes me want to do bad things. With him.

  “You know what the real problem is? They want to have complete control over me. I’m turning eighteen soon, and they can’t stand it. I’ll come into my trust fund and I won’t need them anymore.”

  A trust fund? I’m stunned. “You have a trust fund?”

  “My grandfather died when I was a baby. He left me a trust fund and my father has invested well on my behalf over the years. It’s about the only good thing he’s done for me,” Jordan says bitterly.

  I knew he was rich, but I didn’t realize he’d have his own money. He’ll be completely independent and could probably move out of his parents’ house if he wanted to.

  “What are you going to do when you turn eighteen?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you going to stay home and finish out the school year? Or are you going to—leave?” Oh, God. What if he leaves? Once he finishes out the football season—which is in a matter of days—he has nothing keeping him here. He’s probably completed enough classes that he could graduate now if he wanted to. When’s his birthday anyway? I feel bad that I can’t remember. And what are his plans? He hates his parents so much I wouldn’t blame him for wanting to leave this place and never come back.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll finish out the school year and graduate, just like everyone else.” His voice is soft and I can hear it rumble in his chest. “I’ll have money in January when I turn eighteen, but I don’t know where’d I go, Amanda. My parents are rarely home anyway, and I don’t think I want to live on my own. Thinking about that kind of shit is…”

  Scary. He doesn’t need to say the word out loud. I know what he’s thinking, and I can’t blame him. It is scary sometimes, to think of the future. I told myself at the beginning of the school year I need to live my life day by day and not worry about tomorrow. So far, that’s been working out fine.

  But I don’t have rotten parents like Jordan does. I know he has financial security, but money can’t buy you happiness. And it definitely can’t buy you love. I think he realizes that.

  I don’t know what else to say. An apology isn’t good enough and like he said, it’s not my fault his parents are such assholes. So I remain quiet and close my eyes, enjoying this moment of just sitting with Jordan and not talking about anything at all. I listen to his even breaths. The sound of his heartbeat, steady and true. His fingers skim over my shoulder, his thumb slowly tracing the seam of my sweatshirt, and I swear if he keeps this up, I could fall asleep like this…

  “Amanda.”

  Jordan’s deep voice snaps me awake and I lift away from him in a hurry, sitting up straight and looking around, pushing my hair out of my face. My head feels heavy and my vision is hazy, and when I look over at Jordan, I notice he looks just as tired as I feel.

  “Did we fall asleep?’ I ask groggily.

  “Yeah.” He grabs his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. “For at least an hour.”

  “Really? Wow.” I run a hand through my tangled hair, then slip my finger beneath each eye to check for smudged mascara. Of course, my finger comes away black. I can’t ever get it right with this guy, I swear.

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  “What?” I turn to look at him. “No. Why would I want that?”

  “You want me to stay?” He rubs his eyes and my heart melts. He looks like a sweet, sleepy little boy, and the urge to pull him into my arms and keep him forever is strong. “I don’t want to do anything, I promise. Just sleep.”

  “Oh.” I’m disappointed. But I’m also…relieved. Maybe tonight isn’t the night for my sexual liberation. Maybe tonight is the night I get to indulge and cuddle with Tuttle.

  Oh, crap. I’m going to need to hashtag that and post it on Snapchat somehow. He might get offended, but screw it.

  It’s a chance I have to take.

  “So you really didn’t have sex with Jordan Tuttle, huh?” Livvy’s tone is clearly disbelieving. But why would I lie about that?

  “No, I really didn’t have sex with him,” I say firmly.

  We’re sitting on the floor in Livvy’s bedroom on Sunday afternoon. I didn’t work at Yo Town today, but I still need to be home by five for our weekly family dinner. My parents brought my older brother George home, so he’ll be there too. I guess he’s staying here for the next few days, maybe even weeks. I heard Mom say something about academic probation and Dad freaking out over George dropping out of college, but I stayed out of it.

  At least their focus is on my brother and not me. They have no clue Jordan spent the night at our house las
t night. Though nothing happened. Not a thing. Only a few quick kisses and the two of us twisted around each other all night long, sleeping peacefully. We woke up around ten, I made him breakfast—cereal and toast and coffee—and then kicked him out in fear of my parents showing up unannounced.

  He didn’t seem to mind, though. He gave me a thorough kiss goodbye, whispering against my lips, “Remember our Snapchat conversation from yesterday morning?”

  I nodded, wondering where he was taking this.

  “We could still do that, you know. Send each other—photos. No one will have to know. They’ll just disappear.” He smiled and kissed me one last time, most likely knowing he’s shocked me. “You can trust me.”

  That particular conversation has been on my mind ever since.

  “What are your thoughts on, um, sending nude photos?”

  Livvy pauses in painting her toenails and lifts her head, the surprise on her face obvious. “Say what? Don’t tell me Jordan’s asking you for nudes.”

  Of course, Jordan’s asking me for nudes. He’s almost eighteen years old. I’m sure he lives for nudes. He might even have a…collection?

  Ew, a tiny detail I really don’t want to know about.

  “Kind of,” I tell her.

  “What do you mean?” Livvy frowns.

  “He asked for one this morning after we kinda flirted around the topic.”

  “How? Tell me exactly how it went down.”

  “Well, I sent him a photo of me wrapped in a towel after getting out of the shower yesterday morning.” I bite my lip and duck my head, not wanting her to see my embarrassment.

  “Ooooh, I didn’t know you had it in you! Dirty girl.” I look up just in time to see Livvy wink at me. Which of course sends us both into hysterical giggles.

  Once I compose myself, I continue. “So he sent a photo of himself in return and told me to drop the towel.”

  Livvy’s eyes light up. “He asked you to or told you to?”

  “He told me to.”

  “So demanding. That’s kind of hot.” The dreamy sigh that escapes her makes me smile despite my worry. “Did you drop it then?”

  “Kind of.” I explain how I took the photo and how I posed. She shakes her head when I’m done.

  “That isn’t how you take a nude photo, Amanda.” She says this like I should know, her voice full of disappointment.

  “Well, I have no clue what I’m doing, so I thought it was okay.” When she sends me a knowing look, I blow out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not going to just send him a bunch of nudes with my legs spread or whatever. That’s gross.”

  “It’s hella gross,” Livvy agrees as she screws the cap back on top of the nail polish and sets it on her bedside table. “You don’t want to look like a photo shoot out of Hustler. That magazine is absolutely disgusting, by the way.”

  I’ve never even heard of Hustler. And I’m not about to ask Livvy how she knows about it.

  “But yeah, you definitely want to tease him,” Livvy says with firm authority. “Show a little bit without showing the whole package, you know what I mean? Guys love that. A glimpse of a side boob. The bottom half of your ass cheek. The illusion of nudity without you actually being naked.”

  I’m frowning so hard I’m probably going to give myself wrinkles. How does she even know all this stuff? “You really think I should send him nude photos? Just bare it all and hope for the best?”

  “You won’t need to bare it all, but yeah. Why not?” Livvy shrugs. “Everyone’s doing it.”

  “Just because everyone’s doing it, doesn’t mean we should too.” I watch her closely. “Have you sent nudes to Ryan? Be honest.”

  She quickly shakes her head. “No way. I don’t trust him.”

  “What?” Now it’s my turn to be totally shocked. “But you guys are, like, together. You’re boyfriend and girlfriend, in a serious relationship. You’ve had—” My voice drops to a whisper. “—sex.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  Livvy is acting so nonchalant about her lack of trust in her boyfriend. It’s kind of blowing my mind. “You gave up your virginity to Ryan, yet you don’t trust him. Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe? I’m too scared he might do something awful when we split up. Like show the naked photo I sent him to all his friends or whatever. That would be beyond humiliating.”

  “You seriously believe he’d stoop that low if you broke up?”

  “It’s a risk I don’t want to take. Even with Snapchat and setting the photo to, like, one second before it disappears, I still wouldn’t send him a naked photo. We’re probably going to break up and he’d figure out some way to use that photo against me.” Livvy shakes her head. “Honestly? I don’t know how much longer this relationship is going to work.”

  Just like that, the subject changes. I feel like I’ve been waiting in nervous anticipation for her to drop this bomb. I choose my next words carefully. “Are you thinking about breaking up with him?”

  “Sort of. It’s been on my mind a lot lately. I’m not as happy as I was when we first got together, I know that.” She shrugs and touches the corner of her big toe nail to test if it’s dry or not. “It was nice talking to Dustin last night. It made me realize how much I miss him.” Her voice is quiet and she keeps her focus on her dark burgundy painted toes.

  “What, so now you want to try out a relationship with Dustin?” Okay, I’m not going to judge. But—and this is according to Livvy—their friendship hasn’t always been the best. In fact, from what Livvy told me, before she started dating Ryan, she and Dustin were pretty toxic for each other. Lots of back and forth, we’re friends, we’re not friends, we’re gonna make out and do things to each other, oops we don’t like each other anymore type stuff.

  Why would she want to go back to that? And why would he want to take her back?

  “No. I don’t know. Dustin and I have a long past. He’s been such a huge part of my life and we just—stopped talking. It’s been hard.” She shrugs. “I mean, Ryan’s sweet and he’s a great kisser. Plus, he’s really good in bed. But is that enough to keep going out with him? I’m not sure.”

  He’s really good in bed? Maybe I didn’t want to know that? Then again, maybe I do want to know. I’m sort of fascinated with the many possible reasons why he’s so great. “Do you have other guys you can compare notes with?”

  “What are you talking about?” Livvy frowns.

  I probably phrased that all wrong. “Well, you said Ryan’s good in bed. Which means you think he’s good at—sex.” I pause and meet her gaze. “So. Is he? Good in bed?”

  “Yes. Most definitely.” The look that crosses her face is nothing short of dreamy.

  “And you’ve been with how many other guys?”

  Her frown returns. “Dustin and I messed around a lot, but we never had actual sex.”

  “So you’ve been with Dustin and Ryan and that’s it?” Livvy nods. “Then how do you know Ryan’s any good? If you haven’t really been able to compare him to anyone else.”

  “Whatever.” She waves a hand, dismissing my words. “That part doesn’t matter, Amanda. When it’s good, you know it’s good. Trust me.”

  Yeah, I don’t know if I can. But I just smile and nod and try to steer the conversation back to where I want it to be.

  “I’m just saying don’t throw away your relationship with Ryan just because you heard Dustin has a big dick or whatever,” I mumble, feeling dumb.

  Livvy bursts out laughing. “Remember, I’ve seen his dick, my prudish friend. And while I wouldn’t call it huge, I can definitely say it’s pretty decent, for a dick.”

  I will never, ever look at Dustin in the right way again. “Has he ever sent you nudes?”

  “Dustin? No way. Though he asked me for some once when we were fifteen and being stupid.” She smiles serenely. “I told him I wasn’t going to provide his beat off material and he never asked again.”

  “You did not,” I breathe. I can’t even i
magine saying something like that to Jordan. I’d be too embarrassed.

  “I did so! That’s all he was looking for, you know?” She studies me carefully. “You and Tuttle never really did it, huh.”

  I slowly shake my head. “No, we never really did.” Just thinking about it makes me nervous. I don’t understand why being a virgin is such a big deal. Why do we have to give it away? Or lose it? Why is so much tied up in it? I do everything else but actual intercourse with Jordan yet that somehow keeps me pure? Saves me from…what?

  When I think about it too hard, it’s kind of ridiculous.

  “But you two did—other things. Right?” Livvy asks.

  “Yeah. Just not the actual deed.” I start picking off the nail polish I just painted on my fingernails. This conversation makes me feel jittery. Nervous. How can I measure up sexually with any of the other girls Jordan’s been with? How can I measure up to Jordan himself?

  “Well, he’s going to want to,” she says with all the authority of someone who knows. “Probably soon too. Are you ready?”

  “I don’t know. I want to say yes, but….” I clamp my lips shut. What’s holding me back?

  “But what? I mean, I get it if you’re nervous. Having actual sex is such a big deal.”

  “Why?” When Livvy looks at me strangely, I continue. “Why is having sex a big deal? We’ve already done so much. Why do we put such heavy expectations on actual intercourse?

  “Oh God, you just said intercourse.” Livvy collapses into a fit of giggles, which irritates me. I’m trying to have a serious conversation. I let her giggle for a few minutes, and when she finally gains some control, she answers me. “It’s, like, society who puts the expectations on intercourse and virginity and girls saving themselves. Boys get laid and it’s considered a rite of passage. Girls have sex and we’re considered sluts. It’s totally unfair. You know what I mean?”

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  Livvy mock pouts and crosses her arms. “We shouldn’t be judged so harshly just because we want to explore our sexuality.”