With a curse, I sit up, going for the blankets that must have gotten kicked to the foot of the bed sometime during the night.
Except.
Except, we’re not in my room. The reason for my body aching this morning becomes a lot clearer.
As I slowly start to wake up, the surroundings come into focus.
We’re in my living room, on the floor, where the fan is on full fucking blast.
With another curse, I get to my feet. Making an executive decision, one that will no doubt piss off Em, I gather her in my arms and walk us into my bedroom.
Emery will kick my ass for not going surfing, but right now I don’t give a single damn.
She can take one day off—especially after last night and opening up with what happened to her.
Once the phone call with my mom was done, I came back in and Emery must’ve seen the mood written on my face because she asked if I wanted to watch a movie. I think we both needed time in our thoughts after that, so I put on the first movie I saw on TV and Emery cuddled into my side. I think we watched two movies, completely forgetting about the morning.
My body was too keyed up to relax. I wanted to touch her, to feel her skin against mine, but she set the pace.
After seeing how she reacted, I relinquished whatever power I had and gave it to her. She controlled everything from there. I wouldn’t push her for anything she wasn’t willing to give.
After a while, my body deflated and I was lulled to sleep by her steady breathing.
Now, I tuck Emery into my bed, making sure she won’t get cold. I walk into the bathroom to piss before climbing in beside her.
I doubt I’ll be able to sleep for long, if at all. But somehow I’m able to fall asleep for maybe forty-five minutes before something wakes me up.
Correction, someone wakes me up.
Opening my eyes, I see a sight that makes my morning wood very happy.
Emery is straddling my waist, sitting right below the waistband of my shorts. Her face is flushed, with slightly pink cheeks, either from sleep or from anger. Green eyes that shine like grass after a rainstorm narrow down at me.
Holy fuck she looks hot.
“You better not fucking pinch me.” My voice is harsh from sleep. “This is the kind of dream I like.”
She glares harder and my dick twitches. Sometimes he’s a kinky bastard.
“I’m not going to pinch you. I’m going to strangle you.”
“Kinky.” I raise an eyebrow and grin. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I’m not into choking or being choked; it does nothing to get me off, and I know she’s not talking about it in a sexual way, but it’s way too good to pass up. Especially since Emery’s too cute when she’s mad.
And hot as fuck as she straddles my body, right above my dick.
Fuck, Cleaton, think of something else besides that.
Emery’s fist collides with my chest. It barely even tickles. “What the hell, Cleaton?”
I know I probably shouldn’t, but I really like her saying my last name in her pissed off voice. My amusement must show on my face because Emery slams her palms on my chest as she leans closer to my face. I try to fight a grin. “Why did I wake up in your bed? And more importantly, why aren’t we surfing right now?”
“We’re in my bed because we fell asleep on the floor last night and I like to think this mattress is better than hardwood floors, but that’s just me. As to why we aren’t surfing, I was sore and tired from being on said floor and I liked seeing you in my shirt.” I lean up on elbows, bringing our mouths closer together. “So I made the executive decision to sleep in today.”
It wouldn’t take much to close the distance. All I’d need to do is sit up a little bit further.
Jesus, I’m horny this morning.
Emery’s hand is over my mouth before I’m able to put my plan into motion. It’s probably written all over my face. “Don’t even think about it, Bash.” At least I’m back on a first name basis with her. “Not only am I pissed right now but we also have morning breath.”
The way she says morning breath makes me believe she’s really repulsed by the idea of kissing with MB.
I don’t care either way. I want her lips on mine.
With her hand still pressed to my mouth, I dart my tongue out. Licking her palm. Running it from the base all the way up to the joint in her middle finger, I watch her. My gaze never wavers from hers as she shivers above me and some of the anger turns to a different kind of heat.
“Stop being cute.” She retracts her palm, pushing away and off of me.
I roll over to face her, my grin still in place. “Am I being like a pug?”
She groans, crossing her legs, and looking down at me. “Will you let that go?”
“Nope.” I make the “p” pop as I reach over, grabbing her waist. Rolling us over so she’s on her back and I’m above her, I brush some hair away from her face.
“I’m still mad at you.”
“I can handle that,” I tell her.
“I have a rule to never miss a day when I’m in town. You don’t know how hard it was to be landlocked at college and have the closest beach like an hour away.”
“That sounds like torture for you.” For me too. The beach has always been in my backyard and I need to smell salt in the air. “Can I ask you something about that?”
“Sure.” She runs her fingers through my hair.
“How come your parents don’t want you to surf?
“After my accident when I got released from the hospital, I snuck out and went to the beach with my board. You know that whole cliché saying about falling off a horse and getting back on? Well I did that. And had a panic attack because I saw a shadow that looked like a shark. It was a turtle. I fell off my board, got caught in a rip current, and panicked even more. It was a mess and I scared my parents shitless.”
Jesus H. Christ.
“And technically I’m an adult and can do what I want but I live with them, you know? I don’t want to disappoint them, so I don’t tell anyone. Because word of mouth is a real thing in this town.” I rub my hands up and down the back of her calves. The fabric of my gray sweatpants she put on last night move with me. “Plus I’m scared. I’m scared if I stop for a day, I won’t go back out there. I want to be a pro surfer, for fuck’s sake, but I can’t even tell my parents I’ve been surfing again. And have been doing it for years.”
“Emery, following your dreams takes a lot of courage. It’s the uncertainty that scares you but that’s where the adventure begins. I wish I could tell you that you can hide behind your alarm clock forever, but the second you go back on the circuit, people are going to be all over you because of your name. You have to be ready for not just your parents but for everything that comes along with this life.”
Silence.
My words are greeted by silence.
Emery stares at me, eyes a little glazed over, and I wait.
And wait some more for her to say something. Anything.
I didn’t mean to lecture her. I didn’t mean to actually say any of that yet. She deserves every chance to go pro, but she can’t do it in secret.
It’s not just the fear of disappointing her parents, but it’s also the fear of failure.
“Can we go get pancakes?” Emery asks, her voice not quite off but not normal either. She’s deflecting and for right now, I’ll concede.
So, we get pancakes.
“HEY MOM,” I ANSWER MY phone, turning down the radio. “What’s up?”
“Hi, baby.” I haven’t seen my mom all day—she’s been running around with my grandma. “I’m stopping by the mall on my way home, is there anything you wanted me to pick up?”
It’s four days before Christmas and the malls are hell on Earth. Brit’s at the mall, working, and has already texted me no less than a dozen times telling me the horrors of the day.
It’s ten past one.
“Nah, I went down to Jensen and picked up a few things.” Drove over an hour to anoth
er mall because the mall in my town is dying, with barely any shops while the one down South has ten times as many. The drive is a bitch, but my trunk is full of gifts to be wrapped and stuck under the tree. “Now I’m going to stop at Beans and Cream before I head home.”
“Is Brit coming over tonight?” Usually Brit and I do a weekly movie night on Sunday, but because of the holiday rush we had to push it to today, since she isn’t closing tonight.
“Yep.” I turn my blinker on, a driving skill people here are seriously lacking, and pull into the turn lane, waiting for the green arrow. “She’s coming around six.”
“That’s good. You two haven’t been seeing a lot of each other lately.” Mom’s not saying it to make me feel bad, but that doesn’t stop the guilt from happening anyway. It’s true I haven’t seen Brit as much as I’m used to. I’ve been a shitty best friend.
Usually during winter break, Brit and I are attached at the hip.
But this break, I’ve hardly seen her.
I have, however, seen a lot of Bash. Not just in the mornings for our early surf sesh, one neither of us have missed since the morning I woke up in his bed, but we sometimes meet for lunch too, or he cooks us food at his place. Homeboy is a really good cook. And yes, most of the time there is kissing and groping going on. Okay, all the time that happens now.
He’s been different since I stayed at his place.
When we surf, he’s pushing me. Challenging me. Making me go more at his level than for fun. Which, until he started pushing, I realized is what I had been doing for the past few years. I had been dedicated, yes, but I haven’t accessed the potential inside.
Now, because of his lessons, I’ve been more tired. More sore. But happier.
And not just from the surfing.
I still see Brit at Trivia Night, with the gang, and we meet up for dinner or lunch at the mall once a week depending on her shift. We just haven’t gotten to hang out for a longer period of time. We both blame the holiday season. Whatever free time she has gets sucked into more hours for work. Sometimes her boss even works her past her weekly max.
And I know for a fact she’s seen Dez a lot this break.
I’m not the only one hanging out with a man-friend.
“Yeah, but we have movie night tonight and Trivia Night tomorrow,” I remind her as I pull into the first parking spot I see. As I hang up, I can’t help but wonder what exactly Dez’s plan is with my best friend. All I know is if she gets hurt because of him, he’s going to get more than a sarcastic comment. He’s going to get my claws.
“Sup, stranger?” Brit says as she leans in my doorway, wearing an ugly Christmas sweater that features a sad and deformed reindeer. She’s holding a bag of tacos. “I brought the goods.”
“You can stay then,” I smile, shifting the laptop off my lap and onto my bed. “I got the movies.”
I point to the stack of movies on my desk. Yes, I still buy movies. If I love it enough, I buy it to add it to my physical collection. I even still have a box full of my childhood movies on VHS and a VHS player that still works.
I’m a child of the 90s. What can I say.
“Superheroes then space battles?” Brit asks, holding up two of the movie cases.
“Sounds good.” I make grabby hands for the taco goods, which she hands over on her way to put the disc in the DVD player. “I see you didn’t kill anyone today.”
“Ha-ha,” she deadpans before flopping on the mattress next to me. “I just don’t see how people can be so dense. I mean, you’re really going to leave your leaking drink on a pair of white jeans or try to return something that has clearly been worn and washed multiple times?”
“Both of those happened today?”
“Just a fraction of what went down. My manger went back in the stock room like three times within five minutes just because she had to scream. She said it was very therapeutic.”
She presses play and sprawls out next to me. I pass her the bag of food.
We munch on tacos while my screen gets double-teamed by hunky heroes. There’s not a more attractive sight.
Unless, of course, they’re shirtless. On the beach.
Then I’d really be a goner.
“Imagine if men actually looked like that,” Brit says, some lettuce flying on my duvet from her taco.
“Brit, you are aware that they are real people, correct?”
“Correct.” She takes a bite of the taco. “But you know what I mean. Men in real life. Like where are the everyday hot men? The ones you meet at the grocery store and flirt with only to find out you two are actually neighbors.”
She’s describing a romance novel. Probably one she just read.
I’ll have to get the title from her later.
“What’s up?” I lift an eyebrow.
“Nothing.” She shrugs. “Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Yeah, okay. What’d Dez do?”
She glares. “What makes you think he did anything?”
I stare at her, letting her words process for the both of us before answering. “You just got really defensive when I brought up his name. Proof. Now spill.”
She doesn’t. Instead she counters with, “Tell me about Bash.”
“Why? You already know everything that’s happened.” I call or text her when we are up to bat and get on a base. Although, I’ve never had a clear idea on what base means what.
Except a home run.
Pretty sure that means sex.
Which hasn’t happened yet.
“I doubt I know everything.” She rolls her eyes.
“Pretty sure you do.” I laugh. “Unless you know something I don’t. But, anyway, spill. Tell me about Dez and what he did now.”
“Nothing.” She sighs. “And that’s the point. He hasn’t done anything. We’ve barely texted or seen each other since the last trivia night he showed up for, where he spent the entire night flirting with that waitress and ignoring me. So why am I so upset over this?”
“Because you like him, dork,” I tell her. “And he treats you like a secret he keeps from the world. Which is fucked up.”
She cringes. “I really don’t want to. I want to go back in time and shake high school me for ever finding him attractive. I want to tell younger me that his cock might be impressive but his attitude isn’t.”
“Here, here.” I raise my half-eaten taco in support.
But Brit isn’t done. She’s on a roll now.
“And why did I even think this time would be different? Because he noticed me at a party? Really? Am I wanting a boyfriend so bad that I’ll put up with all this less than stellar crap for what? An hour or two of play every two weeks?”
She takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with energy to continue her rant. “It’s like I’m wanting to live out a high school dream of mine, like I’m making high school me proud. I shouldn’t care if I make her proud. I should be making the me today proud.”
“And are you proud?” I ask, but I already know the answer.
She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have to put all this work into whatever the hell this actually is. Head games aren’t my thing. Either you tell me you like me or tell me you don’t. I shouldn’t be freaking out that I’ve done something wrong for him to ignore me.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” I reassure her. Dez has always been a player. I think he had one serious girlfriend in high school. And that relationship lasted maybe three weeks.
If he comes to the next trivia night and flirts with that damn waitress again, I’m fork stabbing him. It’ll be more painful than those dull knives. Brit doesn’t deserve the shit that is running through her head over this.
“Don’t let him get to you. You’re only here for a few more weeks before you go back to Orlando for school. Winter break is a time to de-stress from finals and just have fun before the spring semester starts.”
She nods, a small smile on her lips. “I like having fun. Sometimes I think I want to have a relationship. B
ut then I start talking to a guy, like Dez, and just assume that it’ll lead to dating. When in actuality it doesn’t.”
“What’s this relationship you speak of?”
“Oh, I forgot. I’m talking to the girl that runs from commitment.”
“I don’t run. I avoid,” I clarify.
I “dated” a few guys back in high school but never have had a serious boyfriend. And this time, I don’t even know what I’m doing with Bash. Am I dating him? I have no idea, but I’m trying to take it day by day with him. Not overthinking and keeping the freak outs to a minimum. So far, it’s been working. “So what are you going to do?”
“Would you judge me if I said I wanted to try and keep having fun with Dez?” Brit tilts her head down, looking at her hands in her lap.
“Of course not. But just because you want to have fun with him doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make him work for it.”
“Oh, you know I will.” She finally smiles. “And I’m going to tell him things have to be exclusive if he wants the all access pass to my fun town. No other hook ups while we’re doing our thing.”
“And if he doesn’t go for it?” I will always support my best friend. With anything. It’s me and her against the world.
“Then he doesn’t get a pass to my fun town.” She shrugs, still smiling, but her tone isn’t light-hearted to match.
I pinch my brows trying to figure out what’s off when my phone vibrates against my leg. Brit spares me another quick glance before she turns back to the movie as I read the message on my screen.
I bite my lip as my eyes move across the screen. My leg starts to bounce, shaking the mattress and Brit.
“What?” She puts a hand on my leg, halting the movements.
I ignore the slight annoyance in her tone and debate asking. Wondering if she’d be down. Wondering if I can do it.
“How do you feel about cutting movie night short, since we’ve already finished all the food, and doing something different?”
“Well, we already are having it on a different day than our usual Sunday so I think we can cut it short. Depending on the offer. Is it better?”
“I think it is. But if you don’t want to go then we don’t have to.”
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