Hit the Spot

by J. Daniels

  “Yeah, right, ’cause you gotta lot of love for me,” he argued, heavy on the sarcasm.

  “That might not be the case but I wouldn’t hit you with my car!” I insisted. “I’m not crazy!”

  He stared at me for a beat, jaw twitching, eyes flashing, and breathing heavy. Jamie didn’t look convinced. Then he pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head, murmuring, “Figures I fall for psycho pussy,” under his breath as he reached into his back pocket and tugged out his phone. He looked down at the screen.

  My gazed hardened. Psycho pussy? Um, no. I don’t think so.

  “I am not psycho pussy, and I know what you’re doing.” I pointed at him when he lifted his head. “You’re mad I shot you down and bruised your precious ego and now you’re planning on making up lies about me.”

  “Bruised my ego? Bitch, I think you did more than that when you ran my ass over.”

  “I did not run you over! God! Stop being so dramatic!”

  Reaching behind me, I felt for my phone in the back pocket of my shorts, fished it out, dialed Syd’s number, and grinned right in Jamie’s face when I pressed the phone to my ear a good two seconds before he did.

  He flipped me off.

  I flipped him off back, then spun around so he couldn’t see the tremble in my lip I couldn’t figure out or explain.

  I was on the verge of tears.

  Why? Because I’d tapped him with my car?

  “Your girl’s bitch of a friend is certifiable, man,” Jamie said behind me. “Fuckin’ straitjacket shit. No joke.”

  “Hey, Tori,” Syd greeted me in my ear.

  “It was an accident,” I said quickly, fighting against nerves and nuisance and this weird, unsettling hurt I couldn’t shake. “Okay? It was an accident, and if he says differently, he’s lying. I would never purposely do something like that.”

  “What are you talking about?” Syd asked. Her voice was heavy with confusion.

  “She ran me over with her fuckin’ car. Can you believe that shit?” Jamie spat, each word feeling like a knife sticking into my back. “Tori. Yeah, I’m serious, brother. That bitch is crazy.”

  I pulled in a breath.

  Not because of the crazy. Or the bitch. I was oddly immune to those names at the moment.

  No. I pulled in a breath because Jamie called me Tori. He never called me Tori in places I could hear.

  Until now.

  The hurt I couldn’t explain somehow grew denser and spread through my bones, weighing me down. It was the strangest thing. I didn’t understand anything I was feeling except for the regret. That I understood.

  I really didn’t mean for this to happen.

  Honest.

  So I held on to that emotion and wrapped my heart in it as I glanced over my shoulder, met Jamie’s eyes, and confessed my truth to Syd.

  “I sort of hit Jamie with my car.”

  But my other truths involving Jamie? Those stayed locked inside.

  I was never letting them out.

  Chapter Two

  JAMIE

  I knocked on the front door of the house my best friend shared with his girl. As I waited for someone to let me in, I took a step back on the porch, shoved my hands into my pockets, and turned halfway so I could see the driveway and monitor that shit.

  Because if a motherfucking yellow Volvo pulled in behind my bike, I was rolling the fuck out.

  It was Sunday night, meaning it was family dinner night at Dash and Syd’s place, something I never passed on considering the good food and good company, but I was willing to start skipping them if Legs and her psycho pussy showed up.

  Jesus.

  Never imagined I’d be thinking that shit. Nine months of wanting had me fucked in the head for this girl. I’d never pass up an opportunity to get an eye and an ear full of Legs and her smart-ass mouth. Hell, I’d go out of my way to get it.

  Now I knew she was crazy. Didn’t matter how hot she was, I’d be passing up opportunities left and right just to steer clear.

  Tori Rivera took bitch to a whole new level.

  Dash told me she was working tonight when I called a couple hours ago for a heads-up, but I knew schedules could change, which was why I was turned around and keeping an eye out.

  It’d be just like her to show up, knowing I wouldn’t want her here but doing it anyway out of spite, shoving her shit in my face like she was always doing and baiting me for a taste, then luring me outside somehow and running my ass over a-fuckin’-gain.

  Not happening. Her hot ass wasn’t luring me anywhere.

  She’d probably do permanent damage this time if she got a second go at it, crushing my junk since she’d most likely be aiming straight for my dick and balls.

  I’d never fuck again.

  No doubt Tori would be fucking elated, even though we both knew how hard up she was to ride my shit.

  Jesus. That fucking moan…

  No matter how many times I’d tried, I couldn’t get that noise out of my head. She’d wanted that kiss just as bad as me. Fighting it but getting it so good her body was failing her.

  Getting it good. Yeah fucking right. That kiss was nothing special.

  Only I’m a liar trying to convince myself concrete shit isn’t true, like tits aren’t God’s greatest creation.

  That kiss…fuck.

  Tasting better than I’d imagined. And I’d fucking imagined, plenty of times. More times than I was willing to admit now.

  She moaned. She fucking moaned.

  Then she bolted, and I couldn’t let her rip it all away from me without chasing after her and getting more. And I knew once I got her against me, she’d be giving in and letting herself feel that shit like I was feeling it. I was wearing her down. That kiss was proof. Legs couldn’t fight it anymore.

  It was happening. We were fucking happening. Jesus…fucking finally.

  Only we weren’t. Shocking the shit out of me, Legs hit me with a no instead of giving in to this, to us, and it didn’t matter how much her body was wanting it to happen or how fucking hard I was, I heard her. Loud and clear. She was telling me to stop.

  Telling…me…to stop.

  I backed off. Had to, but fuck. Moaning one second and then giving me that. Hesitating when I asked her straight out if she was feeling this, which meant she was feeling it but didn’t want to admit that to me. What the fuck? I didn’t need that shit. And if Tori Rivera was going to play those fucked-up mind games with me, then maybe she wasn’t worth the nine months I’d put in. And no matter how much I’d thought about it, dreamed about it, and damn near obsessed over it, maybe it was a good thing I hadn’t done more than just kiss her.

  I was fucked enough as it was. And that was before she tried to kill me.

  Now I wasn’t just through waiting around for her pussy, I was avoiding it altogether. I was over it. Done. Didn’t need that kind of crazy and sure as fuck didn’t want it.

  I could forget about Tori. Should be easy enough.

  Only…Motherfucker. That kiss didn’t suck. Not even a little.

  The door opened behind me, turning my head, and Syd, Dash’s girl, stood in the doorway wearing an apron and a welcoming smile that cranked up in brightness at the sight of me.

  She had looks and easy charm she didn’t need to work at—it just flowed. Was a little nutty with some of the honesty pouring from her at times, but like the honesty, she gave that smile to everyone it seemed, not just to people she knew.

  Made her a helluva lot nicer than Legs.

  I called her Sunshine as a joke, considering how much she was trying to hate on me on account of her friend. The nickname stuck when she stopped hating and started doing anything she could to shine a good light in my direction, hoping Legs would see it.

  Syd was a sweet girl. Thought that before I found out she was healing Dash and getting him back to living instead of just merely existing. Now I had mad respect for Syd and a whole lotta love, too.

  She earned that.

  “What’s up,
Sunshine?” I greeted her, stepping closer. When she didn’t back up or step aside, allowing me room to enter, I halted, tilted my head, and questioned, “You gonna let me in?”

  Her eyes did a quick assessment of me as her lips pressed together.

  Christ. Here we fucking go.

  “I feel the need to point out, even though I’m happy you’re okay and understand in times of stress there is cause for exaggeration,” she began, one brow lifting as she met my gaze. “Being one to exaggerate in times of stress myself, I get it. But you don’t look like you got run over by a car, Jamie.”

  “Most of my injuries are internal,” I explained, flashing a smile. “And the rest are only visible after I strip.”

  Her eyes got round, and then those same eyes rolled a second later.

  “For real, though, she basically tried to kill me,” I added.

  “That’s not what she’s saying,” Syd shot back, sticking her hand on the hip that wasn’t holding open the door. “And do you really think Tori would do something like that on purpose? ’Cause I don’t.”

  I stared at her.

  Figured Syd would be siding with her girl on this one, but it wasn’t like she was oblivious to the hate Legs was always putting on me. Shit. A good bit of it was put on me during family dinners in this fucking house.

  “Yeah, babe. I do. She’s had it in for me since day one,” I bit out, not in anger but more in exasperation. “Now what the fuck? Am I eatin’ outside on the porch or are you gonna let me in?”

  Her shoulders pulled back as her brows drew together.

  “Okay, first,” she began, her voice getting sharp, “I would only make you eat outside if we were having a cookout, which is something that will be happening after Brian and I get deck furniture, not before. I’ve always believed in hosting properly, and not supplying your guests with a place to sit is not hosting properly. I personally feel very strongly about this and—”

  “Babe, no disrespect, but can we skip ahead to point two so I can come in and get a beer and you can get back to cookin’?” I interrupted, crossing my arms over my chest. I ignored the heated look being directed at me and quickly explained, “You know I got love for you, Sunshine, but you’re going off on a tangent, and when that happens, it usually takes you a while to get back on track. I’m just looking out for the food you got in the oven. Straight up. You’ll thank me when it doesn’t burn.”

  Her eyes flickered wider.

  I didn’t think she was going to oblige me. I also didn’t think she’d let me off the hook for pointing out her tendency to ramble.

  Women usually didn’t go for men pointing out shit to them.

  So when Syd stepped aside without saying another word and freed the doorway for me to enter, hurrying into the kitchen instead of getting up in my face, I was shocked.

  But that feeling was short-lived.

  After closing the door, I crossed the living room and followed behind, nearly making it into the kitchen before I jerked back, halting to a stop when Syd came flying around the wall separating the two rooms and approached me.

  “I do not go off on tangents. I simply feel passionate about things, and when that happens, I get a little wordy,” she informed me, coming up onto her toes to get closer to my face. “Going off on a tangent is when you get off topic and that never happens. I stay on topic. I just usually have a lot to say about whichever topic I’m on. And to prove my point, I’ll go ahead and share point two of what I was driving at before I ran to check on my casserole, which isn’t burning, by the way.”

  I bit back a smile. “And what’s point two?” I probed.

  She rocked back onto her heels, blinked up at me, and shared, “The only two people who eat on that porch are myself and Brian. No one else. It’s special to us.”

  I knew that. I technically knew about that porch before Syd did, considering Dash enlisted my dad to help him find the listing when he was house hunting. And since Dash informed me of the reason he was so hell-bent on having a porch, so Syd could eat popsicles on it like she did when she was a kid, a memory he wanted to give back to her, I knew what it meant to both of them.

  “Wouldn’t ask to sit out there, babe,” I shared. “Know that’s important to you.”

  “It is and I know you know it,” Syd replied.

  “Just hungry and wantin’ a beer, maybe several, considering my ass got run over yesterday. I’m a bit sore all over.” I might’ve been playing up my injuries a bit.

  Syd studied my face with narrowed eyes for a second before asking, “Are you really?”

  I smirked.

  She smiled slowly, like she was fighting it, shook her head through a quiet laugh, then brought her hand out from behind her and shoved a bottle at my chest.

  “Here. Brian’s out back with Sir letting him play. It’ll just be us four for dinner,” she said.

  I took the beer, giving her a wink in appreciation, then walked behind her into the kitchen, making it nearly to the slider before I registered what she’d just said. Us four?

  “You mean it’ll just be us three for dinner. You, me, and Dash. He said everyone else had work or other shit to do.”

  Syd shut the oven door and quickly stood, spinning around to face me. “Right. Yep. They do. That’s what I meant.” She anxiously smoothed her hands down the front of her apron. “I was accidentally counting Sir. I do that sometimes.”

  My brow grew tight as I stared at her. “You were accidentally counting Sir,” I echoed back.

  She nodded, saying, “He’s part of the family, so it’s not weird or anything. I like him feeling included.” Then she grabbed the bowls sitting on the island in front of her, turned around, and started washing them in the sink.

  I watched her do this, and I would’ve thought the dog thing was weird, but this was Syd, and knowing her, she would count that damn dog as one of her dinner guests. Probably give him an assigned seat, too, with the little place cards she was always putting out. She loved Sir like he was her kid.

  So I left it alone and headed outside.

  It was early September in Dogwood Beach. Hot days. Warm nights. And the water was prime fucking temperature. Perfect Carolina weather.

  Perfect surf weather, too. Thanks to hurricane season.

  The sun burned low in the sky, streaking the clouds with oranges and yellows and shadowing Dash, who was tipped forward and leaning against the railing, looking out into the yard with his back to me.

  His name was Brian, but I called him Dash. Always did. Dude was fucking fast when we were kids.

  He turned his head as I made my way across the deck.

  “Shit,” he mumbled through a smile, peering at me over his shoulder and doing the same evaluation Syd did when she first saw me. “I was expecting you to show up using crutches or with something in a cast. What the hell, man? You look fine.”

  “I had a small limp yesterday, all right? So get off my fuckin’ back about it,” I replied, moving to stand beside him. “And just ’cause that bitch didn’t break anything doesn’t mean that shit didn’t happen. I just got lucky.”

  I twisted off the bottle cap, bent it in half between my finger and thumb, and sat it on the wood, then took a swig of my beer while watching Sir run around the yard.

  Dash was staring at me. I could feel his eyes locked on my profile, prompting me to ask an irritated “What?” before I turned my head.

  His mouth twitched. “She really run you over?” he questioned.

  “Yeah, brother, she did.”

  “I’m talking got you under the wheels of her car, Jamie, ’cause that’s the definition of someone getting run over.”

  My gaze narrowed.

  “Right,” he murmured, looking out into the yard. “She didn’t. That’s what I thought.”

  “Backed into me and knocked me down,” I argued, gaining his attention again. “Made contact, brother. Enough that it put me on my ass. And straight up, she would’ve kept on reversing and would’ve put me under the wheels if
I didn’t have the reflexes I do, so thank fuck for that. She’s fuckin’ crazy.”

  “She’s sayin’ this was an accident, and not to call you out, man, but it sounds like it was.”

  “What the fuck? Whose side are you on?” I asked, my voice growing louder with edge.

  Jesus fucking Christ. Sunshine got to him.

  He shot me a hard look.

  “No one’s. Are you fuckin’ serious? You know I don’t give a fuck,” Dash said, straightening up and turning to face me. “I’m just pointing out what’s being said and giving it to you straight. Yeah, that girl’s been shootin’ you down for months. We’ve all witnessed it. But I doubt she’d get that sick of your shit she’d try and take you out with her car. She doesn’t seem the type.”

  “You mean, the psycho pussy type?” I asked, lifting my bottle and tipping it at him. “You’re wrong, brother. She’s the type. Bitch tried to kill me.”

  “Christ,” he mumbled to the sky, tipping his head back.

  “She’s psycho pussy. I’m just callin’ it like I see it.”

  I took another swig of my beer.

  “Word of advice,” Dash started, meeting my gaze again. “You might wanna get the psycho pussy shit outta your system before we head inside. Doubt Syd’s gonna be down with hearing you call her girl that.”

  “Figured,” I returned, shrugging weakly. “Not tryin’ to leave here without getting some of that food she’s cookin’ so I’ll stick with referring to Legs as ‘crazy bitch.’”

  “That might not fly either.”

  “Man, whatever. I’ve been traumatized. I can’t be held responsible for shit I say right now. I was run over.”

  Dash chuckled. Then he bent his elbow on the railing and leaned his weight onto it.

  “What?” I probed when he kept staring at me like I should be saying something.

  He cocked his head.

  “Really? You got nothing to ask me?”

  We kept looking at each other, him not giving up any more, then I mumbled an “oh, shit,” because it hit me right then what he was getting at and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t gotten around to asking him about it already. This shit was important. Had been on my mind the entire drive over here.