by Rachel Jonas
Come hell or high water, I’ve got to figure this thing out. The last thing on Earth I want is to prove this man right. If that happens, there’s no way in hell I’d ever live it down.
Looks like it’s time to come up with some sort of plan.
Just wish I knew where to start.
…Fuck my life.
3
Dane
“Well, the water pressure’s great.”
Sterling looks up from his phone when I drop down on the couch in a towel.
“Fuck, dude! Holster that shit!”
Glancing down, I realize why he’s complaining—I flashed him a little. I adjust the towel with a laugh, so he’ll stop crying about it.
He yawns and I’m eyeing him. “You’re seriously tired already? It’s not even late.”
He shoots me a look then lets his head fall back against the cushion. “We’ve been moving your shit all day.” His eyes close then, but I know just what to say to wake his ass up.
“Too tired for company?”
His head lifts again and I get the exact look I expect from him. “Depends. Who’s coming?”
Reaching to where I tossed my phone on the other side of the couch, I pull up a pic. “Her name’s Melanie. I met her a couple weeks ago at the gym. She’s hanging with her friend Katie and asked what we’re getting into tonight.”
Sterling takes one look at the pic of the pair hugged up on some recent beach vacation.
“Here’s hoping the answer to that question is ‘pussy’,” he laughs.
“They should be here in thirty.”
“Sweet.”
I relax again and do a bit of math in my head. I should only need about ten minutes to get decent, which means I can afford to chill a while longer.
“And then, there were two.”
I open one eye when Sterling speaks. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“West’s ass is locked down, now it’s just us. Feels weird.”
I had the same thought when he and Blue cut out around ten P.M., looking all blissful and shit. Don’t get me wrong, I love that they’re happy, but Sterling has a point. Shit feels weird.
“We’re like Timon and Pumbaa in this bitch, watching Simba and Nala ride off into the sunset without us,” he adds with a laugh.
It’s at this exact moment that I make an executive decision for us both. “Okay, I’m definitely getting you high tonight.”
He laughs, but there’s truth to what he said about West. Being closer than most siblings, Sterling feels the loss. We both do.
“Seriously, though. You’re gonna be next to get tied down. I feel it.”
The joke earns me a hard glare from the one who swears he’ll never settle down with just one woman.
“Fuck that and fuck you,” he grumbles. “It’ll be you and Joss once you two finally get your heads out of your asses.”
His words strike me hard, wiping the grin off my face. All because the only two people who seem to know me and Joss will never happen are me and Joss. The fucked up part is… it’s not because I wouldn’t drop everything and everyone for her in a heartbeat.
We exist in this strange space somewhere between friendship and more, but she keeps her distance. I can’t even blame it all on her, though. I want her, but know I’d find some way to fuck things up. It’s kind of in my DNA. It’s the reason my father’s currently behind bars. The reason West nearly pushed Blue out of his life before he even had her. The reason Sterling’s sworn off commitment altogether. It’s also the reason I fight the urge to lay the most solid, non-familial relationship I have on the line.
Although, if I’m being honest, that thought crosses my mind at least once a day.
Joss may be my best friend, but I’ve thought about her more while fucking than whoever I’m actually with. In my head, I’ve made her come in every position imaginable, in every way imaginable—with my mouth, my fingers, my dick. The real her may be untouched and innocent, but the version of her that lives in my head?
She’s nasty as fuck.
I clear my throat and start thinking about baseball before I pop a boner. Sterling might beat my ass if that happens, seeing as how he’s already begged me to put on more than just this towel.
My phone dings and I’m grateful for the distraction.
“Melanie again?”
I shake my head. “Nah, Rose.”
“It’s almost midnight. Does she ever sleep?”
“Doesn’t seem like it,” I answer distractedly while reading her text. “Apparently, she’s trying to play matchmaker.”
“Sounds fun,” Sterling chuckles, clearly being sarcastic.
“She’s been all up my ass about my image and networking.”
“That includes her setting you up with chicks?”
I shrug. “Maybe. She wants me to link up with her daughter, Shawna. She’s got a pretty big following from what I saw when I checked out her profile. Plus, Rose says she’s got a few promising deals in the works.”
“The only promising deal you need to be thinking about is Melanie,” Sterling concludes. “So, tell Rose to save that shit for tomorrow and take her ass to sleep.”
I laugh and set the phone aside. “I’m gonna get dressed.”
“How’s this supposed to work anyway?”
I halt behind the couch. “How’s what supposed to work?”
“We’ve got girls stopping by and this is the only room with furniture. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time we banged two girls in the same room, but… I’d like to think we’ve evolved since then.”
Yeah, sure we have.
“I don’t know. Drag the chair into the spare room, I guess.” I shrug, this being my only solution.
He considers it for a few seconds, then seems to settle on that being the best option. But then, before he can even drag the thing six inches, the door buzzes.
“Shit, they’re early.”
He ignores me and continues down the hall with the chair.
“Come on up,” I say into the com, not bothering to even check the camera before buzzing the girls in.
My first thought is to rush and grab clothes, but there’s not really any point. I’d have them off again in about five minutes anyway. So, instead, I just secure the towel and post near the door to wait.
A minute later there’s a knock and Sterling’s back in the great room, checking himself out in the mirror. I unlatch the door, but the second I open it, I forget all about Melanie and everything else.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call first. I’ve been driving around for about an hour and didn’t even know this was where I was headed until I pulled up outside,” Joss sobs.
Seeing her in tears has me thinking irrationally, so the first thing that comes to mind is ‘Who fucked up, and where the hell can I find them?’
But I hold all that in and close the door behind her. “What happened?” I ask instead, shoving aside thoughts of kicking someone’s ass tonight.
She has this bewildered look in her eyes, like she isn’t sure how to answer.
“I got this text from my dad that we needed to talk. Then, he and Mom just sprung a bomb at me as soon as I walked through the door,” she rambles. “They’re leaving for Haiti and he’s demanding that I go.”
My entire body goes numb hearing her say those words. No, I haven’t known her my whole life, but it sure as hell feels like it. Seven years is a long time for someone to be with you almost every single day, to then just be ripped away without warning.
She pushes a mix of tears and rainwater from her eyes, hugging herself while she paces.
A deep breath escapes. It’s the only thing that keeps me from spinning out and losing my shit just at the thought of her leaving. It’s already been one hell of a year, now this. But what she needs right in this moment is someone to listen, someone to be reasonable while she isn’t thinking clearly. Seeing me get caught up in my feelings about how her leaving would tear my world to shreds won’t help anything.
“I told him I won’t go,” she states, bringing me instant relief when I hear those words leave her mouth. “But he was so angry,” she adds. “Angrier than I think I’ve ever seen him.”
I shoot Sterling a look and don’t have to say a word.
“I’m gonna take off so you two can talk,” he interjects.
Joss peers up when he speaks, seeming to realize she walked in on the middle of something. “No, I didn’t mean to intrude on you guys. Stay. I’ll go,” she insists.
“Stop apologizing. We didn’t have anything planned,” Sterling lies. “I’ll check in on you guys tomorrow.”
With a weak smile, Joss nods. “Okay. Be safe, though. It’s really coming down out there.”
Sterling stops to hug her around her shoulders as he passes. To my brothers, she’s been like the sister they never had. But somehow, that entire notion completely missed me. Not once have I ever seen her in that light.
Sterling nods once, then it’s just me and Joss.
“Let me grab us both some clothes, then you can tell me everything.”
The damp curls piled on top of her head quiver a bit when she nods, then I gesture for her to have a seat on the sofa. On the way back to my room to hunt through boxes for a t-shirt for her and a pair of sweats for us both, I flip the switch on the coffee pot, assuming we won’t be sleeping anytime soon.
I close my door and if it weren’t for the text that comes through, I would’ve completely forgotten I was expecting company.
Melanie: Pulling up in a sec. Can’t wait to see you.
Dane: Actually, something came up. Need to cancel.
Melanie: Well, should we just stop by later? We don’t mind.
I hear her offer loud and clear, but don’t even consider it. In fact, the second I’m tempted, I envision Joss—soaking wet and crying her eyes out on my couch—and the answer is clear.
Dane: Have to pass for tonight, but now that I’m thinking about it, my brother would still love to hear from you.
I shoot her Sterling’s number, deciding that his plans shouldn’t have to change because mine did. Besides, two girls instead of one? He won’t complain.
With that, I’ve officially traded one form of a sleepless night for another and, apparently… I’ve also officially got blue-balls.
Just fucking perfect.
@QweenPandora: Did someone say late night rendezvous?
Looks like VirginVixen isn’t wasting any time making her mark at PrettyBoyD’s pad. He hasn’t even been moved in twenty-four hours and already VV’s creeping inside his building at an unholy hour.
What on Earth are you two doing in there? Is it possible that everyone’s fav good girl is turning bad? Not that I’d blame her…
Stay tuned, Lovelies. If these two are up to something, we’ll all know soon enough.
Later, Peeps.
—P
4
Joss
A warm hand moves slowly up my arm, then back down again. At first, I’ve got no clue where I am, but then it all rushes back to me.
The argument. Storming out of the house with nothing. Showing up at Dane’s door at around midnight.
And now, here I am, locked beneath his arm with my feet propped up on his coffee table beside two empty mugs. He’s still asleep beside me or… beneath me? We dozed in a strange position, with my head against his ribs while he leans against the arm rest. One of his feet are propped beside mine, the other planted on the floor.
He’s shirtless, so my cheek brushes over his bare skin when I move to sit upright. I notice the smoothness of it, but mostly, I’m trying to ignore how his sweats ride low on the divots in his waist. He’s always been fit, but dude’s gotten ripped these past few months. Be it out of frustration or as a means of distraction, working out like a beast has turned him into one.
My eyes travel up the mountain range that’s replaced his abs, and I stall at his pecs—perfectly molded sculptures of tanned flesh. He’s obsessive when it comes to manscaping, so he’s hairless, completely smooth from the waist up.
Kind of makes me wonder about what his situation is from the waist down.
“Morning.”
My eyes snap to Dane’s with a tiny, inward gasp when he speaks.
He saw me practically drooling over him. No way he missed that. The cheeky, half-grin he shoots me next tells me I’m right.
Shit.
“Sleep okay?”
His morning voice is raspy. Even more so than usual.
“Uh, yeah. Like a baby.”
Like a baby? Ugh. I should probably stop talking.
Averting my attention from him now, I push a hand up through the back of my hair, feeling myself tremble when I do. He yawns and stretches, and despite myself, my eyes are on him again. On that lean torso and trim waist. Then, my gaze naturally drifts lower.
Before he has a chance to realize I’m staring at his junk, I stand and head toward the kitchen, hiking the too-big sweats he loaned me last night higher on my waist. While I grab a glass and turn on the faucet, Dane shuffles down the hallway to the bathroom.
It isn’t until I’m alone that I’m finally able to breathe and re-center my thoughts. With each year we age, the line between us gets a bit more blurred. At twelve, I only saw him as the boy who mutilated another kid’s face for insulting me, but by fourteen, I had a full-blown crush. Who wouldn’t though? The Golden boys were at least six inches taller than all the other guys in school, and as natural-born athletes, they never quite looked like boys. They were always bigger and stronger than anyone else in our grade. Every guy wants to be them, every girl wants to be with them.
That came out wrong.
Almost every girl wants to be with them.
I’m content being something like a sister to West and Sterling, and BFFs with Dane.
Eventually, by around age sixteen, the crush faded, but the attraction still lingers. Picking up on Dane’s occasional lapses into bouts of weakness doesn’t help, but I like to think we’ve mastered the art of resisting. Likely, because we both fear what we’d lose if we didn’t.
“Hungry?”
I spin toward the sound of his voice, swallowing the last of my water before nodding.
“Whatcha got?”
He flashes a cheeky grin that says it all. “Cereal, cereal, and more cereal.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Well, cereal it is, I guess.”
A breath hitches in my throat when he steps closer, but I realize it’s only to reach above my head for two bowls. My eyes are glued to him as he moves around the kitchen, gathering two spoons, milk, and then one enormous box of Cheerios.
He places it all on the counter, then gestures for me to take the stool beside him.
I do. Cautiously, of course. He’s still shirtless and it takes so much effort not to stare.
“So, are you good?”
My eyes do flit toward him when he asks, but I glance down into my bowl again right after.
“All things considered, I’m okay.”
That’s the truth. Last night sucked, but life usually sucks a little less when he’s around.
“I did some thinking while you were snoring on me last night,” he teases.
Holding in a laugh, I shoot him a look, but he ignores it.
“Since you’re staying in the city, regardless of what your parents have decided, my offer only makes sense now.”
“Offer?”
Now I’m the one getting a look because we both know I know what he’s talking about. I was just stalling while I think of a good excuse.
“I’ve got an extra room, you need a room. I need someone to manage my accounts, you need a job. It just makes sense,” he reasons.
I glance at him fully this time, staring as he awaits a response.
There are so many reasons to tell him ‘no’ right now, but I can’t seem to remember any of them except that doing so could put our friendship on the line. However, I can’t exactly say that w
ithout exposing that I am, in fact, very attracted to him.
Rock.
Hard place.
Me, stuck right in the middle.
He picks up his phone to check the time. “It’s seven. I don’t have to return the moving truck until noon. There’s time to go to your place, load your things up, and still get it dropped off on time,” he says, arching a brow at me. “So, what do you say? Are we gonna be roomies?”
Not sure if he can tell this or not, but the idea of it has me absolutely terrified. Sure, it’ll be smooth sailing at first, but what about when it isn’t?
I’m pleading with my eyes, but he doesn’t let me off the hook.
“Dane, we’d have to set rules. Then, I’d feel like a bitch because this is your place, and you shouldn’t have to live by—”
“Interesting,” he croons, cutting in with a smirk that ends my rant. “What kind of rules?”
I get caught in his stare, feeling the pressure.
“Well, okay. Like, knocking before entering each other’s bedrooms or the bathroom,” I suggest.
“Done. What else?”
“We’d clean up our own messes,” I add.
“Done,” he says with that same easy-going tone.
Shit. Think bigger, Joss. Throw something difficult at him.
“No overnight guests of the opposite sex,” I add with a dim smile.
Ha! That should do it. No way Dane Golden will go months or potentially longer without the freedom to share his bed with a girl. But I do feel kind of weird about having just said that, especially since we both know that rule only applies to him for now.
He smirks and for a second I think I might have swayed him against this terrible, terrible idea, but then…
“Ok, no sleepovers. Got it. What else?” he counters without thought.
My chest feels tight with the realization that he’s not bending. Not even a little.
“I… guess that’s it,” I concede.
“Good. So, we’re doing this?” he asks, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
