by M. J. Fields
“You said you didn’t want anyone to die, so if you choose to come out here and they choose to look at you, and this first year of Friendsgiving ends in a bloodbath, it’s all on you.”
He walks over and snatches the pie off the counter, taking it to the refrigerator. “You fuckers touch this, you lose a hand.”
“You can’t lord over me!” she yells at him.
“You want to be treated like a lady, you need to give a little.”
The girls all make that aw-how-cute-is-that sound, and the guys join in as I take one of the two birds out of the oven.
“So?” Logan snaps. “Elle, you have two minutes, then I’m coming in.”
“You gotta get the juices from the bottom of the pan,” Keeka scolds me.
“Need some help?” Jamie walks up from behind us.
“Nah, I got this.”
“You sure?” she asks as I pull the second bird out.
Once I set it down, I look at her.
“He said he’s got it,” Keeka mumbles, shoves a carrot stick in her mouth, rubs her belly, and looks at Jamie. “I remember you.”
Jamie smiles sweetly. “The bar, first night.”
Keeka nods. “Caused a fight.”
“I—”
Elle laughs from behind us. “That was all Logan.”
Jamie looks back and whispers, “Oh, girl.”
“What?”
“Your hair.” She laughs and pulls her behind her.
Keeka eyes me suspiciously.
“What?”
“You like her.”
I smile. “I like everyone.”
“Hmm …” she says, looking at the turkey. “But apparently, you have something against this turkey.”
“Woman, let me have my way with the birds.”
She smiles. “Don’t mess it up. We’re hungry.” She rubs her belly and walks away.
After putting the birds back in the oven, I turn around and see Jamie and Elle laughing as they walk out of the bathroom. Elle is wearing a hat.
I look at Logan, who is smiling at her. “That was quick.”
“You really think I’d do her like that?” he hisses.
“I’m thinking it wouldn’t be up to you. When you haven’t fucked in months, it’s bound to happen.”
“Wow! The tables look great.” Elle grins.
“Looked great when you walked in, too.” Tank snickers.
“Like she noticed,” Downs adds.
“Mind your fucking business,” Logan growls as he opens the oven.
“Dude, I just basted them.”
“They’ve been done. Just keeping them moist.” He pulls the platter from the counter, and together, we remove one from the pan. “You wanna do the honors?”
I shake my head. “This is your deal, man.”
Carrying the turkey through the crowd, Logan snaps, “Move your asses.”
I watch the two of them. They look happy, like nothing happened a few weeks ago, yet it did. So much happened.
I finish my beer and grab the bottle that Logan hid on me. Well, put on the top of the fridge like a parent would, thinking the kids couldn’t reach it. A normal parent. I turn my back and take a drink.
“You okay?”
I swallow the liquor, set the bottle down, turn and smile. “I’m fantastic, Jamie. How are you?”
She scowls slightly.
I throw my arm around her shoulders. “It’s Friendsgiving, friend.” I walk us toward the table as Logan leans down and kisses Elle.
“Links kissed a girl.” I pull my arm off her and pat Logan’s back. “I’m proud of you, man.”
“He’s kissed plenty of girls. His dick’s on Yelp, with reviews.” Jamie shakes her head.
Jamie said dick. Great, just fucking great.
Logan glances at her, looking confused. Then he shakes his head like she’s joking.
“It’s true.” Christy laughs. “There’s even a pic.”
“Bullshit.” Logan shakes his head and laughs. “No one’s ever gotten a dick pic from me.” He looks at Elle. “They’re fucking with you.”
“No, they aren’t. I saw your name, the reviews—”
“But she wouldn’t look at the picture,” Lisa adds.
“I think you need to leash your girls,” Logan tells her. “My guys ain’t saying shit. Give me the same courtesy?”
“If they were talking shit, I might consider it, but your dick is really on Yelp.” Elle laughs.
Jamie didn’t laugh about Jersey Chasers.
“Found it!” Downs holds up his phone, laughing.
Logan balls his hands into fists and hisses, “With a pic?”
Downs scrolls through and starts laughing. “Yep, you got a donkey dick, man.”
Logan looks at Elle. “You see it?”
“She’s a virgin, and still here, I’m thinking no.” Schooler chuckles.
“You fucking watch the way you talk to her,” Logan snaps at him.
“Logan?” Elle sighs. His head snaps back to her. “I appreciate that you’re trying to defend my honor, and I forgive you for being an ass that night, okay? But honestly, I don’t care that I haven’t put out to some immature, man-boy who likes to look at other men’s junk and makes up pet names for it.”
Logan’s lips quirk up in the corner.
“Clearly, she hasn’t seen the picture.” Schooler laughs.
When he storms toward him, I step forward to make sure shit doesn’t get out of control.
He snatches his phone.
“Don’t fucking break it, man. I just got the damn thing.”
Logan looks at the screen and sucks in his cheeks, trying not to smile.
“Good angle?” Elle asks.
“You gotta see this.” He starts walking over to her.
She holds up her hand. “No, thanks.”
He laughs. “No, you really need to.”
“I was never one to peek before Christmas. And when I have seen gifts accidentally, I make my mom return them. Do you want me to see it still?”
I watch Jamie smile as she hugs herself, and looks out of the corner of her eye at me. She’s fucking beautiful.
When the room erupts in laughter, we look away from each other. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her smile. I don’t.
I don’t eat shit, not hungry.
I’m drunk, which pisses me off because I’ve been doing something, something I hate an awful lot lately.
After we slide the furniture that we had moved around back in place, I head to my bathroom to take a piss and hope that they’re gone when I come out, because this fucking sucks.
While washing my hands, I look in the mirror and ask myself what the hell I’m thinking. “That face was made for pleasure, not fucking pain, man. Fucking smile.”
I turn off the water and walk—okay, stumble—out into my room.
My bed looks like the closest thing to heaven I’ll ever get to … again, so I faceplant into it.
“Thank fuck.”
“You okay?”
I turn my head to see she’s standing in the doorway, a halo of light surrounding her, pie in hand.
“I snatched you a piece before they gobbled it all up.”
I turn my head and whisper into my comforter, “Jesus, what the hell did I ever do to you? Snatch? Piece? Pie?”
“Hey, Mitch?” Her voice is getting closer.
Stay away, I think.
The bed dips, and I can smell the same fucking thing I did while sitting next to her at dinner—lavender. She and I were acting—well, I was acting—like we were good, chill, cool, like everything was all right.
She wasn’t acting. She was fine.
It’s good that she is, but fuck if I want to see that any more than José fucking Cox and his saggy, dust-filled, old perv ball sack.
“I lied,” she says, and I turn my head as she stabs the pie and takes a bite.
“About José?”
She scowls and swallows. “To Elle. I told her that you
and I were still doing our thing because I didn’t want her to change her mind about Logan.”
She stabs the pie again and starts to put it in her mouth but instead holds it out for me. “Pumpkin pie cheesecake. Try it.”
“You make it?”
“Elle’s family made all four that we brought.” She pushes the fork closer. “You didn’t eat hardly anything. Take it.”
Eat … Take it … I’m hard.
Kill. Me. Now.
I take the bite, and she watches me intently.
“Good, right?”
Doesn’t mix well with Jack and beer, but I can fake it. “Yeah.”
She tucks her legs behind her.
Black skin, cream dress, those colors so close make me think of what it would be like to watch my cock slide in and out of her tight, sweet, un-fucked pussy. I’m sure it would be second-best to watching her face when she comes.
She stabs the pie and holds it out for me to take. “You go ahead.”
“Not gonna lie; I already ate a sliver.” She takes a bite. “So good.” She licks her lips. “But the rest is all yours.”
“Jamie …” I sigh and bury my face in the comforter again. “You go ahead.”
“I’m full, really. Did you see how much I ate?” she says with a smile in her voice.
Yeah, sure did. Surprised I didn’t knock the table over with my hard on.
“Food was good.”
“Elle was gonna leave, but Logan gave me a look, so I told her I was going to hang out with you for a while, so she didn’t feel like she had to leave.”
Fuck my life.
“I know you’d said we couldn’t be friends, but since the other night kind of proved we could be, you’re good with this, right?”
I turn and look at her.
“I mean, we know some of each other’s secrets. Like,” she whispers, “your app, my …” She stops and shrugs. “You know.”
“Which one are we talking about? I know a few.”
“A few?” she asks.
“Virgin with voyeuristic ways or adrenaline junky who plays Russian roulette by night walking through a college campus alone?”
“Voyeuristic ways? Pft.”
“Not gonna argue facts—” I stop, because I almost called her Flower. “Just gonna ask that you stop that shit and keep yourself safe.”
“Again, you’re going to ask again, because I’m pretty sure I already agreed to play it more safe.”
More safe.
Moore. Safe.
Seems like an oxymoron to me.
Jamie
I’ve been to church once since being here and spent the next few days absorbing the message about love and spreading it. I came here determined to show kindness, and now I’m on his bed, wanting to feed him, because he ate hardly anything, and bombard him with questions that are not from a loving place.
I mean, in my defense, destiny is divine, and it keeps rerouting me directly to him.
With pie.
“I’d leave, but … you know …” I don’t want to. “Wouldn’t want to screw things up for Logan and Elle.”
He turns his head from being buried in the comforter, looks at me, and doesn’t say a thing.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“What I want doesn’t matter.”
“I see.” About as well as the blind at this point.
He arches a brow. “You wanna keep up this charade, I’m cool with it … for them. But I’m not in a place where I can promise you it won’t sting a bit more than it has.”
I take in a deep breath, before asking, “Does it have anything to do with Keeka?”
His eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to say something, yet he doesn’t seem able to.
And there lies the sting he was referring to.
“If we’re going to do this—be friends for them—let’s just be honest with each other.”
His jaw snaps shut.
I nod and start to scoot down the bed. “I understand.”
“That makes one of us,” he snaps.
I look back at him. “No need to be rude. I’m trying to honor your request and maybe even offer you—”
He pushes himself up off the bed. “What do you have to offer? Temptation, like Eve and the grapes in that garden?”
“I offered you—”
“Pie, Jamie,” he huffs. “Fucking pie?”
I rub my hand over my face. “Look, I didn’t come in here trying to throw myself at you. It’s not my fault the whole lot of them over-sexualized a very traditional Thanksgiving staple and—”
I stop when he gets up. One downward glance and I see a bulge in his pants. He notices that I notice and stares directly at my boobs, which I don’t have to look down to realize they’ve already taken notice. I can feel it.
He grabs the pie, sits back down, and begins … eating it.
“I’m trying to do the right thing. Trying to be your friend. Trying to—”
“Deny that you and I have chemistry and fake niceties for our mutual friends, even though I’ve eaten the fuck out of your”—he holds up the fork—“pie, and you know damn well you would love for that to—”
“Mitch, I—”
“I’ll let you off the hook. I’m ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that I’m ‘not the father,’ but I did wake up with her in my bed one morning.” He takes another bite. “No aftertaste, though, so—”
“I’m glad you’re being honest with me, but I really don’t need such a descriptive explanation.”
“She thought it was Logan’s room.”
What! I think.
“She dated Cohen briefly. He was occupying others.” He shakes his head.
I hold my hand up. “I don’t need to know anymore.”
He shovels the last big bite into his mouth before he sets the plate down. “What do you expect from me then?”
Feeling tears burning behind my eyes, I shrug. “I don’t know. I thought we could be friends.”
“Like that can hap—”
“You told me a girl like me couldn’t be friends with you. I think you’re wrong.”
He throws back the comforter. “Cool. So, we’ll do cuddle season and make ourselves fucking miserable in the process. Perfect.”
I look down at his bed then back up at him.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s test this theory of yours.”
“Fine, be a jerk.” I unzip my boots, kick them off, and climb into his bed. “But you’ll see I’m right.”
He laughs hauntingly. “You’re gonna want me like Adam wanted those grapes.”
“It was a freaking apple, and Eve’s the one who tempted him,” I snap.
Annoyed, he pulls the black sweater over his head and mumbles, “Go figure.” Thankfully, he has a white T-shirt on beneath it, because his body is truly spectacular. “You sure about this?”
“And I’m not Eve or Adam. I can and will resist any fruit you throw my way for the betterment of all, even if it’s just through cuddle season.”
“Through cuddle season?” he huffs.
“I can handle it, can you?” I cross my arms over my chest to emphasize my point and hide his.
He climbs on the bed and flips me around. Within half a second, I’m pulled up against him, my back to his front.
“See?” I whisper. “We can be friends for our friends.”
“Not a big cuddler, Jamie.”
“I think you’re doing just fine,” I whisper.
“Yeah, well, I’m five minutes from touching your private parts.” There’s humor in his voice. Finally.
I smile. “Maybe we should switch then?”
“I’m big spoon.” He pulls me against his chest. “You lie there and play the role of little drama major.”
“Musical theatre,” I correct him with a smile.
“Yeah, Jamie, I know.”
Fresh air and man, warm arms, and comfort. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
“Gonna roll onto my back,” he sa
ys gruffly. “Or, you’ll get a banana in your peach.” When I chuckle, he sighs. “At least I warned you.”
I roll over and ask him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He turns his head and looks in the opposite direction of … me.
“Means …” He stops and glances over at me. “Not a thing.”
I prop my head up on my elbow. “The V-card? I may not have used the words, but I did say I wasn’t having sex with you.”
“You’re fine.” He rolls now, so his back is to me.
“I need you to be as well,” I whisper my admittance.
He yawns. “Because I may have knocked up a girl I don’t even remember sleeping with?”
“Mitch, that’s not—”
He rolls back toward me and scowls. “What did you hear that day?”
“I’m not sure what—”
“Bullshit, whatever you heard made you run. Why the hell did you come back looking for me? Pity?”
I shake my head as he nods his.
“I came back because I really wanted—” I swallow hard. “Does it matter? I mean, you can’t change the past, but Mitch, I really think we could be good friends. I do.”
He narrows his eyes. “You used my secret against me the other day. What will the next be, Jamie? I mean, why not just fucking tell me what you heard?”
I look down. “I heard her.”
“Heard her what?” he demands.
“I’m really not sure, and it—”
“Enough with the damn lies, Jamie. Just fucking tell me.” His demand is now almost a plea.
“You yelled at her—I don’t know what you said. Then I heard her say something about Morgan? Like I said, I don’t know exactly—”
“Stop pussy-footing, would ya?”
“Your mom passed?” I whisper.
“She was no mother.”
“But she was her daughter, yeah?”
The expression on his face is hurt.
I cover my mouth and gasp. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just—”
His face instantly morphs to anger. “Kill this conversation.”
“Okay. I’m so sorry. It came out wrong. I just wanted to maybe help—”
“Don’t need advice from the Bible or someone trying to play off being a friend for someone else’s sake. As a matter of fact, why not skip this shit altogether? You don’t get it, no more than you get why your nipples are like diamonds, and your panties are getting wetter by the second. News flash: it’s physical, not love. It’s the only good part, not the false pretense that love or the idea of it is a means to anything other than an orgasm or pain. It’s—”
