Forever: A Friends Novel

by Monica Murphy

  “Oh, you’ve been judging, but I get why. I can’t imagine what that was like…” Livvy’s voice drifts and she shakes her head. “I totally know what it feels like. How could I forget? When Em and Dustin hooked up over the summer and broke my heart.”

  “Em helped us out a lot tonight,” I say, changing the subject. I don’t want to discuss the whole Em/Livvy/Dustin/Ryan love rectangle scenario again tonight. We’ve already gone over that situation enough times that we’ve completely exhausted it—there’s nothing more to say. “With the hydration station.”

  “Oh, that’s nice.” Livvy makes a face.

  Uh oh. “I thought you two were finally working it out and trying to become friends again? Sort of?”

  “Not really. I mean, we talk on occasion, but not for long, and usually only over social media. I know she’s got her own man now and I shouldn’t have to worry about her trying to steal Ryan away from me, but…”

  “You think she’ll try and steal Ryan away from you,” I finish for her.

  Livvy nods. “Or maybe even Dustin if that…ever happens. I don’t know. What’s worse, she’d be justified in doing it, you know? That’s the really messed up part of it all. I stole from her and so she should steal from me.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way. You two can forgive and forget and move on. She’s not interested in Ryan. She likes Cannon. A lot,” I tell her.

  Livvy waves a hand, dismissing our entire conversation. “I don’t want to talk about that anymore. It’s too confusing. Let’s head over to Tuttle’s house and get some of the catered food before it disappears. What do you think?” She smiles.

  I nod and smile wearily in return. I’m exhausted. And even though I got my parents’ permission to go, the last thing I want to do is hang out at a party with a ton of people, the majority of whom I don’t even consider my friends. But I am hungry, so…

  “Sounds good. Let’s go.”

  We start walking, but then Livvy stops me. “You think we should go back to my place, change and then head over to Tuttle’s?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Let’s just go as is. Show some team spirit.”

  “You’re right.” Livvy offers me her arm and I hook mine through it. “Let’s do this.”

  When we arrive at Jordan’s house, the place is already crawling with people. There are cars parked everywhere, all along the road, leading up the driveway and in the field that surrounds his home. I instruct Livvy to park in front of the garage because Jordan would want us to.

  At least, that’s what I tell myself because, hello, I’m practically his girlfriend. That has to come with some perks.

  The music is pumping loud as we make our way through the house and I see lots of familiar faces. Most of the football team is already here, and I spot most of the cheerleaders as well. Including my absolute favorite one.

  Yes, Lauren Mancini is still in her cheer uniform and Eli Bennett is standing next to her, one arm slung around her waist and his hand spread wide over her butt.

  Classy as usual.

  The gigantic dining room—a room I’ve never been in—is filled with tables of food. There’s no liquor in the house that I can see, but everyone was clutching beer cans or red Solo cups outside when we first came to the house, so I’m guessing this particular party is an alcohol-is-prohibited-inside type of event.

  I’m guessing his mother had a hand in that decision.

  “They’re still not here,” Livvy says, the disappointment clear in her voice as she scans the room. “What’s taking them so long?”

  “They should get here soon,” I reassure her, then discreetly check my phone for about the hundredth time. But there’s still no word from Jordan. I know he’s busy tonight. There are recruiters and reporters and a team meeting, and I’d bet a million bucks he’s totally exhausted and overwhelmed.

  All I want to do is take care of him.

  I make myself a plate of food because I’m starving and Livvy follows along behind me, swearing she’s not that hungry after all and only grabbing a few things because I force her to. We eat in the kitchen, standing at the counter while surrounded by a ton of people who are doing the same thing. I swear there are more people at tonight’s party than usual, and I’m guessing the offer of free food is drawing everyone out.

  It kind of sucks. I know this is supposed to be a celebration for the team, but it’s turned into a public spectacle. And these people aren’t here to support Jordan and the rest of the team. They just want free booze and food and the chance to hang out at Jordan Tuttle’s house.

  “Think the cops will come?” I ask Livvy once I’m done eating my food. I swear the music has gotten even louder.

  “They better not.” Livvy makes a face. “That would ruin everything.”

  “I know.” It wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing if you ask me, but I keep my mouth shut before I get myself into trouble by sounding like a jerk. “I just hope it doesn’t get out of control.”

  “You’re acting like a total mom right now, Amanda,” Livvy says, her tone scathing. “Stop acting like a grandma and have some fun.”

  I’m so offended by her words I don’t know what to say at first. And when I finally do come up with the right response, Lauren Mancini has to swoop in and make everything that much more difficult.

  What else is freaking new?

  “Ladies, I’m guessing you two are incredibly proud of your boys tonight, am I right?” Lauren beams at us and I’m immediately suspicious. Let’s be real. Saying nice things isn’t Lauren’s style.

  “Yeah, we’re pretty proud,” Livvy says for both of us. I just stand behind her, keeping my expression neutral.

  “They both played such an amazing game,” Lauren gushes. I wonder where Eli is. I wish he’d come over and drag her away with him. I’m thinking I won’t get that lucky. “I know they were meeting with recruiters after the game. I’m sure all of their groupies were waiting for them too.”

  Groupies? Is she for real? And if anyone is a football groupie, it’s her. “If you’re trying to freak us out because Jordan and Ryan aren’t here yet, Lauren, it’s not going to work,” I tell her wearily.

  “What?” Her eyes go wide. If she’s trying for the innocent look, she’s failing miserably. “I would never want to do that,” she says with a sly smile.

  “Oh my God, you are such a bitch, Lauren,” Livvy says, stepping in between us so her back is to me. “Go pick on someone else. Even better, go find your little boyfriend, you sick child predator.”

  Freaking ouch. That was a low blow. But Livvy isn’t scared to deliver rude insults, not like I am.

  “At least I’m not cheating on my boyfriend with my ex-best friend/hookup partner,” Lauren throws back at her, her tone snotty.

  Livvy glares, mutters some ugly words, and then…

  All hell breaks loose. People immediately scatter when Livvy lunges for Lauren, her fist connecting with Lauren’s nose in a sickening, bone-crunching sound. I didn’t even know Livvy had it in her, and I don’t think Livvy knew it either, because she’s swinging her hand like it’s hurting her and Lauren is bent over howling, both hands covering her face, specifically her nose.

  I grab hold of Livvy from behind, my arms hooking through hers as I steer her away from Lauren. People are yelling and phones are out, documenting the entire thing. What is it about violence breaking out in kitchens at parties? I lead Livvy out of the kitchen, Lauren calling after us that she’s going to call the police. Yeah right.

  She’s going to call the cops and have Livvy arrested for assault. Uh huh.

  She’s going to tell Eli’s parents and Livvy will get in trouble. Hmm.

  That one’s valid, considering Lauren and Livvy are dating brothers.

  “I hate that smug bitch,” Livvy says once I have her locked away in a small bathroom. I set the toilet lid down and instruct her to sit there so I can tend to her hands.

  And tend to them I do, hoping I’m not ruining the pristine white guest
bathroom towels when I mop up the blood dripping from Livvy’s knuckles. She winces and groans when I gingerly dab at her roughened knuckles. I wish I could put a bandage on her hand, but it won’t stick so there’s no point.

  “I’ll be fine,” she says with a nod after I rinse out the white washcloth for what feels like the millionth time. “It’s just a scratch, don’t you think?”

  Definitely more than a scratch, but she’s in good shape compared to Lauren, so I’m not going to correct her. “It’ll heal just fine,” I tell her. “But I’m guessing it’ll be pretty painful the next few days.”

  “Hitting her in the nose is worth the pain,” Livvy says with a little laugh. “Did you see her face when I did it? She was so shocked. I bet no one has ever hit her shitty little face before.”

  “I’m sure,” I murmur as I finish taking care of Livvy. My phone buzzes and I pull it out of the back pocket of my jeans to find a Snapchat from Jordan.

  I toss the bloody washcloth into the sink and turn on the water, then open the app.

  It’s a selfie of him with the trophy, his eyes half closed, his lips pressed to the trophy itself, like he’s having a romantic moment, the weirdo. I read the caption that accompanies it.

  I’d rather be kissing you. Where are you?

  Awww, at least he’d rather kiss me versus the trophy. I take a photo of Livvy slumped on the toilet, glaring at the camera. I send it to him, letting him know exactly where I am. He responds quickly.

  Give me a few and I’ll come rescue you.

  Smiling, I close out the app and shove my phone back into my pocket.

  “Are you talking to Tuttle?”

  I smile dreamily, excitement coursing through my veins knowing that I get to see him soon. “Yeah.”

  “You two are really disgustingly cute together,” Livvy says with a slight shake of her head.

  “Um, thanks?”

  She rises to her feet, tilting her head to the side, examining me. “Hey. Did you ever send any nudes to Tuttle?”

  I slowly shake my head, wondering where that came from. “It’s just never been the right time.”

  “Huh. Well, make sure it’s never the right time. Ignore my earlier advice. You shouldn’t do it, unless you’re one hundred percent comfortable. And even then if it doesn’t feel right, that means it isn’t. Go with your gut,” Livvy says with a final nod, just as there’s a knock on the door.

  “It’s Jordan,” I tell a wide-eyed Livvy before I turn to the door and open it.

  Jordan’s standing there, filling the doorway with his presence, his sheer size, an amused look on his handsome face. His dark hair is damp and slicked back, like he just got out of the shower, and that fills my head with all sorts of distracting images. His gaze scans the tiny bathroom, landing on Livvy, and he smiles.

  “I hear you kicked someone’s ass,” he teases her.

  Livvy’s face turns pink. “Not one of my finer moments. But Lauren deserved it.”

  “I kick out dudes who fight at my parties. I have a strict no-violence policy when I host parties at my house. It’s the only way I’ve been able to keep my mom’s valuable possessions intact,” Jordan explains, his expression solemn, though I see amusement sparkling in his gaze.

  Livvy laughs and I do too, though weakly. I wish she would leave. I want to be with Jordan by myself, and give him another congratulatory kiss.

  “Your boy is here,” Jordan tells Livvy, making her stand at attention. “In the kitchen. You should go greet him.”

  “I will.” She stops beside Tuttle and gives him the quickest hug. “Thank you, Tuttle, for being so understanding about the stupid fight. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Shit happens and she probably asked for it, so no worries. Go find Ryan.” He smiles as Livvy edges out of the bathroom, and the moment she’s gone he’s shutting the door, locking it and grabbing hold of me by my waist, making me squeal. He lifts me up and places me on the edge of the bathroom counter, bracing his hands on the tiled edge and caging me in. “Hi.”

  I smile, feeling ridiculous. “Hi.”

  “You look pretty, though your eight is fading.” He traces the painted eight on my cheek thoughtfully, his gaze locked on his finger as it moves across my skin. “I’ve missed you,” he says, his voice low.

  A shiver moves down my spine at his intimate tone. “I’ve missed you too.”

  “I have to warn you, I’m on a total adrenaline high.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  He cracks a smile. “Probably, but it also makes me a little bit too—much sometimes.”

  “As long as you don’t get too crazy, I don’t mind.”

  He shifts closer and I spread my legs wider, so he can step in between them. “I can definitely get a little crazy when I feel like this.”

  “In a good way or—” I suck in a sharp breath when he slips his arms around my waist and pulls me in so our lower bodies are flush together. As in, I will be able to feel everything. I sort of can already feel everything. “—or a bad way?”

  “Depends on your definition of good.” He leans in just as I close my eyes and tilt my head to the side, nuzzling his face against the side of my neck. “And bad.”

  Hmm, so winning an important game makes Jordan Tuttle horny. I get it. I’m feeling that way too.

  He lifts away from my neck and then his lips are on mine, hungry and coaxing, his tongue sliding into my mouth, tangling with mine. He tastes delicious, cool and minty fresh, and I sink my hands into his damp hair, holding him still as we devour each other.

  Someone knocks on the door, startling us apart. “Occupied—find another bathroom!” Jordan yells and when his gaze meets mine, we both start to laugh. “Maybe we should go up to my room.”

  I frown. “Don’t you want something to eat first? Maybe talk with your friends and hang out for a bit?”

  He grimaces. “I’m not hungry. And none of those people out there are my friends. Not really.”

  Hmm, I don’t believe that, but whatever.

  “I just want to be with you, Amanda.” He drops a kiss on the tip of my nose and my heart flips over at the sweet gesture, the sweeter words. “My parents put together this stupid party. They just want to show off my big win. I want no part in it.”

  “Your parents are here right now?” I pull my arms away from his neck and lean back so I can meet his gaze. I thought they were gone. They’re always gone when he has a party.

  “Yeah.” He shrugs. “Somewhere. Who knows? I don’t care.”

  Realization dawns and I’m a little in shock. “Wait a minute. Would they still have had this party for you if the team lost?”

  His expression goes dark, his lips thinning almost into a sneer. “Losing was never an option.”

  Say what? Of course it’s an option. I hate to think it, but the team could’ve lost. And yes, it would’ve been awful and depressing, but life does go on. “Are you saying the Tuttle family can’t lose? Ever?”

  “Not when so much is riding on it.”

  How can he live up to these high expectations all the time? No one can. It’s impossible—and unhealthy. It almost feels like his parents purposely set him up to fail. But he keeps on winning, keeps on accomplishing the impossible, just to prove them wrong.

  “And what exactly is riding on this win?” I ask.

  “My future, my reputation, the entire family’s reputation.” He shakes his head, that tic in his jaw back. The one that lets me know he’s irritated, frustrated, a combination of both. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  My mouth pops open. “I wouldn’t understand? Why? Because I’m not rich like you? Because my parents don’t put ridiculous expectations on us all the time? I want to understand, Jordan. I want to be there for you. I just—I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around everything you’re telling me right now.”

  He grabs my cheeks and forces me to look up at him, his touch gentle despite the fury blazing in his eyes. “I don’t want to fight with you tonight,
Amanda. It’s been a rough day, but a good one too. I just want to be alone with you.” He presses his forehead to mine and inhales deeply. “I want to lose myself in you. But if we’re going to keep talking about this, it might get ugly.”

  He’s giving me an out, and I’m taking it. “I don’t want to fight with you either,” I admit, my eyes sliding closed when he slips his fingers into my hair and starts to massage my scalp. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too.” He rains kisses on my face and I want to melt. Both at his apology and how sweetly he’s treating me. “Do you want to hang out downstairs for a while? I don’t mind if you want to.”

  I open my eyes and stare up at him. His expression is earnest, all traces of his earlier anger gone. He wants to please me. Even though he doesn’t give a crap about this party and would rather avoid it, he’ll walk around and socialize for me.

  For me.

  “I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want,” I murmur, and he smiles, diving in for a quick, hot kiss. “I mean it, Jordan. We can forget the party and go up to your room.”

  “Let’s compromise. We’ll go talk to people and act like we’re having a good time. And then in like thirty minutes, we’ll meet upstairs in my room and have a really good time.” His smile is downright wicked. “What do you think?”

  I swallow past my nerves and smile in return. “That sounds like the perfect plan.”

  This party is boring as shit, but I’m trying to deal. I check my phone for the time. Only seventeen minutes left until I can go upstairs.

  Thank God.

  Amanda and I went our separate ways on purpose, and that was her doing. Sometimes I don’t get what my girl is thinking. Or what her motives are. They’re never bad, but I always think she has some sort of angle.

  This comes from years of never really trusting anyone and always being wary of their intentions. Amanda is slowly teaching me that putting my trust in someone is actually a good thing.

  “Mingle with your people, Jordan,” she told me at the foot of the staircase. She pressed her hot body against mine, teasing me with a smile, a touch, a kiss that I would’ve taken deeper, but she wouldn’t let me. Instead she gently shoved me away from her and waved. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”