“Yeah? She got something new on it?” Johnny asks, lighting up and…
Okay, I’m getting ridiculous now. Sure, he’s a good-looking guy, but… Jesus. I need to just look away.
I do, but then he leans against the counter right next to me with a look in his eyes that confuses my cock all over again.
“Please tell me it’s something kinky,” he says, voice dropping low exactly like I’ve heard it in the bedroom when it’s all three of us.
“Uh,” I say, freezing up the minute I meet his eyes. And then, like they’ve got a mind of their own, my eyes go on a leisurely journey all the way south. Checking him out exactly like I would a hot chick.
I swallow hard. My best friend is standing next to me talking about kinky sex, and here I am staring at the towel that’s about to slip off his hips and hoping it does.
What.
The.
Fuck.
Is.
Wrong.
With.
Me?
“Come on now, don’t tease me, bro,” he says, taking the pitcher out of my hands and walking it over to the sink to put some water in. “You gonna tell me already?”
My dick takes over my mouth and shoots back, “You gonna make it worth my while if I do?”
There’s a way I could have said that that would have been fine. Just giving my buddy a hard time. All good. No harm, no foul. Perfectly innocent.
I did not say it that way.
My dick was talking, and it came through loud and clear in my voice.
Oh fucking Christ, I just flirted with Johnny, and for a split second, I hold out the hope that maybe he didn’t pick up on it. But no dice. I see the way he sort of tenses up at the sink for a second, then turns off the water too slow before finally turning back to look at me.
And his face? Oh, he caught it all right.
Doesn’t call me on it, though.
“You add any lemon to this?” he asks, holding the pitcher up in front of him like a shield as he gives me a wary look. “Might be too sweet without it, you know?”
“No,” I say, and then, because something clearly is wrong with me, I add, “Ask me nicely though, and I might.”
He stares at me like I’ve grown a second head, and while I should be freaking the fuck out about how I’m flushing our friendship down the drain right now, what I’m actually doing is just standing there staring right back, noticing how ripped he’s gotten lately.
And noticing other things, too.
The hint of golden stubble along his jaw. The way that towel dips down like a tease, right above the swell of his cock. How strong his fingers look, wrapped around the pitcher exactly the way I remember him wrapping them around my—
Jesus. I pivot away from him, jerking open the refrigerator door and pulling out a lemon while I try to pretend I’m not getting hard over the memory of a drunken bit of silliness that meant nothing. Is gay hereditary? Or like, transmittable? Because I’m pretty sure I never looked at Johnny like this before Dad and his boyfriend came to dinner the other night.
I mean, sure, a few times maybe, but only when I was shit-faced and it didn’t mean anything.
I can’t hide in the refrigerator forever though, and come on now, this is Johnny. I’ve never hidden from him in my life. I gotta trust that I’ll be able to dig myself out of this particular hole and save our friendship, right?
He’ll give me a pass.
He’s got to, yeah?
But when I turn back around, ready to offer to hand-squeeze a fucking lemon just to make it up to him, Johnny’s right there, crowded up behind me.
I open my mouth, but nope. I’ve got nothing. I close it again.
He smiles, just the tiniest bit, and I see something shift in his eyes. It’s so fucking subtle that I would have missed it if I didn’t know him so damn well… but I do know him, and suddenly my heart’s racing all over again.
“So, just how nice do I have to ask if I want this?” he asks, eyes locked on mine as he reaches for the lemon. Doesn’t take it out of my hand, though. Instead, he just folds his right over it so our fingers sort of tangle together, trapping that lemon like it’s in a cage.
He’s staring at me hard, and I…
I…
Well, fuck. I chicken out completely. My dick may be on board, but truth is, I’m really not sure if I want this. Hell, I’m not even sure if he wants this. I mean, maybe Doc Holloway actually did give me something and I just don’t remember, and maybe it was something that’s got me all twisted up and imagining things.
Misinterpreting things.
Making me think that I know what Johnny’s doing right now with all the staring and hand-holding and lemon-innuendo and all, when in fact it could be—probably is—nothing at all like what I’m thinking. And messing us up? Losing him? It’s not an option I’m even willing to consider.
That cinches it.
Clears my head fast and finally allows me to get my cock under control.
Johnny raises an eyebrow, and I tap out, because the only thing I am sure of—one hundred percent—is how much I’ll regret it if I ever fuck up our friendship. I close my hand around the lemon and shove my shoulder into him, grinning as I get him out of my way.
I go grab the citrus juicer out of the cupboard, making quick work of that lemon.
“All you gotta do is be nice to Eden, buddy,” I tell him. “Help her out, you know? She hasn’t added anything new to that list as far as I know, but she’s gotta get it done before turning twenty-five, and that’s coming up fast.”
Clear head or not, no way do I have it in me to turn and face him yet, and fuck if it doesn’t take him too damn long to answer. He finally does, though, and I let out a breath I don’t even realize I’ve been holding.
He sounds normal.
We’re fine.
“Before her birthday, huh? Don’t tell me she was serious about thinking she wasn’t going to make it past that, just because of her mom and the rest?”
I turn and face him, keeping my eyes off that towel and thankful as fuck that we’re good again. “Guess she does,” I tell him, reaching for the pitcher he’s still holding.
I add the lemon juice, give it a stir, then pour him a glass and hand it over.
Huh. I’m actually not so bad with my left anymore, yeah?
“Eden got pretty worked up about the subject,” I go on. “So I figure the thing to do is just get her through it, yeah? Distract her by helping her finish off that list.”
Johnny takes the glass from me and I don’t even notice when our fingers brush together, because for real, didn’t I just decide I was done getting confused and all?
He downs half of it in one gulp, then says, “For sure. What’s left on the list then?”
I grin.
He freezes with the glass halfway to his mouth, looking at me warily, and… there it is. I see exactly the moment he remembers what her last bucket list item is.
“Oh, hell no,” he says, shaking his head and laughing. “Your arm is broken, Matty. No way are you skydiving. Pretty sure they wouldn’t even let you.”
He finishes off the glass and I refill it—because he was right, he really does need to replenish his electrolytes—then put the pitcher away in the fridge.
“When you’re right, you’re right,” I tell him, holding up my cast as Exhibit A and for once not even a little bit annoyed by my temporary disability. I wink. “Guess it’s gotta be you, buddy. You know we can’t let our girl go alone.”
Johnny chokes on his drink. “Nope,” he says after a minute. “You know I can’t do it, bro. Sorry.”
I lean back against the door of the fridge, crossing my arms over my chest and so used to the cast by now that I don’t even notice it. Normally, my role is holding Johnny back from doing stupid things, but this? I don’t know why I feel so determined to get him to do it, but I do. It’s partly Eden, it’s partly the joy of seeing him squirm, but it’s also something more.
I really think he s
hould do it.
“No,” he says again, even though I haven’t said a single word to convince him yet. “I can’t, Matty.”
I smile. “Sure you can.”
He winces, shaking his head.
“Come on now, what’s the worst that can happen, Johnny?”
He laughs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Uh, death, maybe? What, you trying to get rid of me now?”
I know damn well he’s joking, but after coming so close to maybe fucking things up with us a few minutes ago, that line hits me hard and I end up blurting out something way too intense before I can get my mouth in check.
“No. Jesus, Johnny, I’m just trying to hold on to you here.”
Johnny’s eyes widen a little, and yeah, he heard that undercurrent of desperation in my voice, didn’t he? I guess it’s really my day to shut him up, and how often does that happen? Not that I blame him for being a little dumbfounded, since seems like every time I’ve opened my mouth since walking through the door something comes out of it that shouldn’t.
I force a smile. “Hey now, I just meant—”
“You don’t have to hold on to me, Matty,” he says, cutting me off before I can dig my way out of this latest one. He’s looking at me real steady-like, no hint of joking in his voice anymore. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, making myself laugh about it.
Jesus, he must think I’m really losing it.
“No, for real,” Johnny says, not laughing along with me. Still staring. Still looking serious as fuck. “Nothing you could do is gonna break us, you know that, right? Not ever. You don’t need to worry about that, Matty.”
And you know what? I never have before. Ever. But it still feels hella good to hear it.
I have to clear my throat twice, and honestly, I’m not even sure what’s going to come out of my mouth this time when I finally get the guts to open it again.
Turns out it’s this: “Funny you should say that. Eden was just asking me about the three of us, you know?”
Another thing I really wasn’t worried about before she brought it up.
One corner of Johnny’s lip quirks up, and fuck if it isn’t distracting. I am definitely not supposed to be thinking sexy in relation to my best friend, yeah?
“It’s not a problem for me,” he says, and it takes me just that much too long to realize he’s answering me about what’s going on with the three of us… not reading my mind as I stare at his mouth.
I jerk my eyes off it and back where they belong.
Johnny’s still staring at me hard. “Nothing we’ve done with Eden is a problem for me, Matty. Not any of it.”
We’ve done a few things with Eden over the last few days, all hot as fuck, but we haven’t ever talked about how he’d helped me with the condom that first time it was the three of us together. But somehow, with him saying that? It’s all I can think of right now.
How hot it had been to have his hands on me.
How Eden had egged us on.
How much it had ramped things up to know she was into watching it as Johnny touched me… and oh Christ, how fucking tempted I’d been to let him just finish me off once he started.
I clear my throat. “Nothing, huh?” I’m feeling self-conscious as fuck, but something’s shifted here, so I go ahead and add, “Gotta admit, I like the way the three of us are together, too.” I clear my throat again. “All three of us.”
Johnny’s eyes heat up fast, and fuck if he doesn’t look almost beautiful with it when he smiles, but that’s about as much as I’ve got in me right now, so before he can say anything more direct about the subject I’m pretty sure we’re both dancing around here, I hit him with the skydiving thing again out of pure self-preservation.
I just… I need a minute, yeah?
“So, should we book you and Eden in for a jump, bro?”
He laughs, looking away for a second. “You’re really pushing me here, buddy.”
“Face your fears,” I tell him, winking.
Not sure if I’m talking to him or me, though.
Johnny hesitates for a second. “You know this is a big one for me, Matty.”
Epic understatement. I do know that, even if I’m not crystal clear on exactly why I’m pushing so hard for it.
“You think you can do it?” I ask. “Eden matters, you know.”
“She does,” he agrees, looking at me like he’s maybe saying something more, too. Something that’s got my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest again.
I clear my throat, wondering if the damn thing’s going to be raw after this conversation, what with how constricted it keeps getting.
Johnny gives me a small smile, and something inside me relaxes.
“So, you’ll do it?” I ask him.
“You think you could, in my shoes?” he asks, raising an eyebrow as he keeps pinning me with this look that says we’re having two different conversations at once.
I laugh, looking up at the ceiling just to break that intensity. “What, jump out of a plane?” I joke, figuring he knows me well enough to guess I’d think it would be a rush.
“Is that what I’m asking you, Matty?” He straightens up from where he’d been leaning against the counter and adjusts that towel around his waist as he looks at me, and fuck if that little smile that keeps hovering around his lips doesn’t get to me. “Jumping out of a plane really your biggest fear?”
It would be really fucking easy to walk away right now, and knowing us? We’d go right back to normal if I laughed it off.
No harm, no foul.
Instead, I take a breath and answer his real question. “I don’t know,” I say, as honest as I know how to be right now. “I’m not sure if I could do it, Johnny.”
“Might be fun, though,” he says, his lip quirking up. Then he throws my own words back at me: “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”
I laugh, and then thank Christ we’re out of time since he has to get to the station, but you know what? He actually agrees to go skydiving with Eden before he goes, and it hits me that maybe what’s the worst that can happen isn’t really the right question. Maybe—if Johnny’s willing to do this, to get over something that’s held him back his whole life and go for what he really wants—maybe the right question is—
What’s the best that can happen?
16
Johnny
If terror and insanity had a love-child, it would be the icy hot panic that’s got me in its grip as the tiny plane takes off over Blackstone River Valley. For real, I think I’m going to hurl.
“You okay?” Eden asks, yelling over the sound of the engine as she leans against me.
Uh, no, I’m most definitely not, but I nod anyway, because I have to, you know? For one thing, we’re already in the air, and for another, it’s not like I’m going to back out when she’s counting on me.
Not to mention what may or may not be riding on me doing this… with Matty, I mean.
I’m still not entirely sure I’m not just imagining how things have changed between us over the last couple of weeks, because nothing’s actually happened, you know? But somehow it still feels like it has.
Or like it’s about to.
Or at least like it could.
All of a sudden, my stomach drops out from under me as the plane tries to kill me, dipping and rolling and making me scream like a little girl as I grab on to some metal things jutting out of the wall next to my head. I squeeze my eyes closed and prepare to die… but after a second I’m still alive. The plane seems to even out, and I cut a glance at Eden out of the corner of my eye only to find her trying not to laugh.
“Air pocket, I think,” she says, patting my thigh.
“Okay,” I say, just to prove I’m still functional. I’ve heard of those. I mean, I’ve actually been in planes a few times before, you know? Although as far as I’m concerned, that’s already been a few times too many.
Besides, the experience doesn’t really compare. For
one thing, those other times were in real planes, with normal seats and no engine noise to speak of and a panic button you could push to call the flight attendant at any time. And for another, what got me through those other flights—I mean, besides a shitload of tequila that one time Matty and I did spring break down in Cancun—was the knowledge that I’d be exiting safely through the front door or whatever it’s called and getting my feet back on solid ground once the trip was over.
This time, though?
Eden and I were going to jump.
Out of an airplane.
In the sky.
High, high up in the sky.
Like, five million miles above the earth or something.
“Oh my God,” I mutter as it really hits me. “We’re about to die.”
Eden laughs, then turns my face to hers and kisses me hard. It’s almost hot enough to distract me… but not quite. Because I mean, death, you know?
“We’re not going to die,” she says, which a part of me feels is a bit hypocritical of her, given that ridiculous idea she has about her twenty-fifth birthday and all, but hey, I’m not going to be an ass and point that out.
Plus, not gonna lie, it helps to hear her say it.
“You sure, princess?” I ask, doing my damnedest to cover up the pit of utter terror in my stomach with a shaky laugh.
“I’m sure,” she says, twining her fingers through mine and giving my hand a squeeze. “I have a hundred things I want to get done before I… before my birthday, don’t I? Not ninety-nine.”
She smiles, and I squeeze her hand back, losing a little of my fear by thinking of her instead of myself. She really does believe this shit, but I know Matty’s right. All we can do is hold out until after her birthday and prove her wrong.
“So this is number one hundred, huh?” I ask, impressed as all hell, if I’m honest.
She shakes her head, though. “Skydiving is actually number fourteen… I haven’t really tried to do them in order, and this one? The truth is it scares me a little bit, too, so I’ve been putting it off. I mean, what if it’s the way I—”
“Hey now,” I interrupt, pretty sure I know where she was going with that. “You just said it yourself, we’re not going to die today.”
Three Page 18
