by Steph Nuss
“No,” I said, pulling his lips back to mine. “I’m perfect.”
“Good,” he said, smiling. “Let me just go get cleaned up.”
“Okay.” I watched as he crossed the hall to the bathroom, and then I crawled under the covers, all the while thinking about everything he’d said.
“What’s with the mischievous smile?” he asked, slipping into bed with me. “My refractory period isn’t god-like or anything, so it’s still going to be a while.”
“Ha! Good to know,” I laughed, tangling my body with his. “But I was actually just thinking about what you said earlier, about cherishing me.” I glanced up at him to gauge his reaction. “Were you serious about that, that you’ve thought about all the ways you could cherish my body?”
“Absolutely,” he replied unabashed, furrowing his brows. “You don’t believe me?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” I said, running my fingers through the golden dust of hair on his chest. “I’ve just never had a guy say things like that to me before.”
“Well, I can prove it to you.” He leaned over the bed to my nightstand and started opening the drawers.
I froze, knowing the bottom drawer held my vibrator.
“That’s okay,” I stated nervously, shaking my head. “You don’t need to prove anything. I believe you.”
“Oh, no,” he insisted, gazing back at me over his shoulder. “I’m going to prove it to you.”
He closed the middle drawer, and I slumped back into the mattress and felt my face turn red when I heard him open the last drawer.
Justin twirled the pink sex toy in his hand, smiling proudly. “Jackpot.”
Tucking the sheet under my arms to hide my nakedness, I tried not to smile at him. “How do you know where I keep that?”
“Good question,” he said, eyeing the device closely. “I probably should’ve told you when you moved in that the walls are pretty thin in this place.”
“Are you kidding me?!” I shrieked, smacking him in the arm. “So for the past month, you’ve heard me using it, and you didn’t think to say anything to me?”
“What was I supposed to say?” he quipped, humor lingering in his voice. “‘Oh hey, by the way, I can hear you masturbating.’”
“You could’ve at least said something!” I said, burying my head under a pillow. “This is so embarrassing!”
“Tessa.” He put the toy back in its drawer and pulled the pillow and sheet away so he could hold me. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s a turn on knowing a woman isn’t afraid to masturbate, that she knows exactly what she likes and how she likes it. Would it make you feel better if I told you I thoroughly enjoyed it and that I joined you? Because I did. Every damn time. I’d hear your vibrator and the occasional moan from your side of the wall, and I’d get off to it. I’d spend those nights imagining what you looked like while you got off and thinking about what it’d really be like to be with you and how I’d make love to you.” He moved the hair on my neck out of the way and kissed me there. “So, I’m not bullshitting when I say I’ve thought about loving you.”
I smiled at him, feeling less ashamed than before, and then I kissed him. “I thought about you, too.”
An agonized groan fell from his lips as he playfully rocked his groin against me. “Give me a few more minutes, and then I want to hear every detail while I make love to you again.”
Chapter Fourteen
The following Saturday, I invited Tessa and Trey over to my grandma’s house for Thanksgiving. Grandma and I had made a pact a long time ago that we wouldn’t spend Thanksgiving Day together because I enjoyed spending the day watching football while she enjoyed spending it with her friends and watching the Macy’s parade. It was how we’d been celebrating the holiday for years now but this year, I wanted to include Tessa and Trey, especially since Tessa had implied that they’d never celebrated the holiday before. Sure, she’d celebrated it by going Black Friday shopping with the girls, but that was the extent of her Thanksgiving celebration. While the rest of us had families to go home to for the holidays, Tessa and Trey only had each other. I wanted them to know that now they had us.
We walked up the flight of stairs to my grandma’s place carrying the containers of food Tessa insisted on bringing, even though cooking was Grandma’s specialty. The whole time I listened to Tessa’s entertaining conversation with Trey. I was thoroughly captivated by their fun yet frustrating sibling dynamic.
“Please try to be respectful,” she murmured, glaring up at her brother. “We are guests in her home.”
“I thought you said you knew her,” Trey replied, confusion furrowing his brows. “I thought you said this Mrs. J. was cool.”
“I do know her, and she is cool,” Tessa said, rolling her eyes. “But what I don’t know are the ridiculous words that might come out of your mouth at any given moment. So, please, try to use a filter today.”
“Hey!” he exclaimed, proudly. “Women love me. I’m sure I can charm the granny panties right off her.”
I laughed as a sigh of frustration fell from Tessa’s lips and she glanced up at me with a look of defeat. “Tell me again why we invited him?”
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pulled her into my side and comforted her. “Because he’s your brother, and he deserves a home-cooked meal?”
“He can cook his own meals,” she said, shaking her head.
Trey lifted the lid to the container he’d brought with him. The smell of freshly baked bread drifted into my nostrils, causing my stomach to rumble. “I made my infamous braid bread you like. Just like you asked me to.”
Dammit, I thought. Even the kid knows how to cook well.
“I know,” Tessa said, smiling weakly.
“It smells really good,” I added, rapping my knuckles on Grandma’s door. “She’s probably going to say something when she sees how much food we brought. Just warning you now.”
“See,” Trey whispered, nudging Tessa. “I told you we didn’t need to bring food with us. Old ladies always cook a lot of food.”
“It’s impolite to show up empty-handed,” Tessa snapped at him.
“You brought three different things!” Trey insisted, shaking his head. “She’ll probably tell Justin to dump you for insulting her.”
The horror that crossed Tessa’s face when she turned to me almost made me laugh, but I knew better.
“Is she going to be insulted by all of this?” Tessa asked in a worried tone. “I never even thought about that. I just didn’t want her thinking she had to do a turkey and everything else all by herself. I should’ve called her and asked, or—”
“Tessa,” I stated, grinning proudly. It made me happy that she was fretting over my grandma’s reaction. “She’s going to say it wasn’t necessary, but she’s still going to appreciate the gesture. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Except when my braid bread wins her over faster than your pumpkin pie,” Trey quipped.
“Hey,” I retorted, smacking him on the back of the head. “I made the pumpkin pie.”
He recoiled with an incredulous smirk on his face. “You made a pumpkin pie? I thought Tessa said you didn’t know how to cook.”
“She helped me,” I said, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips.
“Now, I’m really not going to eat it,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “God knows what happened in the kitchen while she helped you.”
“Trey,” Tessa chastised, elbowing him in the stomach. “This is what I mean about your mouth. Please don’t say shit like that in front of Mrs. J.”
When the door finally opened, my grandma appeared wearing her blue-and white-checkered apron over a nice shirt and pants. Her orthopedic tennis shoes donned her feet, and her white curly hair was styled the same way it’s been all thirty years of my life.
“Well, what do we have here?” she questioned, taking the pie container from my hands. “You guys didn’t need to bring anything with you.”
“It’s just
a pie,” I stated proudly, walking into her place. “That I made.”
“With Tessa’s help,” Trey added as he followed in behind Tessa and me. He held out his hand to my grandma and smiled. “I’m Trey Wilder, Tessa’s younger brother. I heard I’m supposed to call you Mrs. J., is that right?”
“Yes, it’s nice to meet you, Trey,” she said, the smile on her face widening. “And what did you bring? Is that bread I smell?”
“I’m glad you asked,” he replied, leaning toward her like he had a secret to tell. “This here, Mrs. J., is the best bread you’ve ever tasted.”
“Is that right?” she asked, amused by his antics.
“Yep,” he said with a resolute nod. He lifted the lid and showed off his masterpiece. “It’s braided Nutella bread. Chocolate and hazelnut goodness in the form of bread. I hope it’s okay that I brought a dessert, too.”
“We can never have too many desserts!” She laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “Now, come in and make yourselves at home. The turkey just finished, so I hope you’re all starved.”
“Always!” Trey cheered, rubbing his belly.
“Mrs. J., do you need any help in the kitchen?” Tessa asked, following close behind her.
“I could always use the help of a great cook,” Grandma said, waving Tessa in for a hug. “I hear you helped my boy make a pie?”
“Yes,” Tessa answered, glancing at me over Grandma’s shoulder. “I mostly advised. He did all the hard work.”
Grandma pulled back and smiled proudly. “In all of my years, I never once got him to actually cook anything.”
Trey murmured under his breath, “Getting laid on a regular basis will do that to a guy.”
I grabbed the back of his neck and turned us both toward the living room to watch television and give the women time to chat. “What did Tessa say about your comments?”
“Filter them,” Trey sighed, plopping down on the couch.
“Show her some respect, would you?” I asked, taking a seat in the recliner. “She’s nervous enough today. Why, I don’t really know, but she doesn’t need you adding to her stress.”
I clicked the TV on, which immediately greeted us with the TV Land channel. As I flipped through the channels, I felt Trey’s eyes on me. “What?”
“You really like her?” Trey asked.
When I looked over at him, his eyes were glued to his sister in the kitchen. My eyes followed his, and I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. Tessa had thrown on one of Grandma’s aprons over her sweater dress, so they were in their element as they removed items from the oven. The two of them shared their love for cooking, taste-testing all the different foods before we actually sat down to eat them. Tessa awed over Grandma’s stuffing while Grandma taste-tested the side salads Tessa had brought, eventually requesting the recipe for both. Just watching the two of them interact so effortlessly together, laughing and smiling one minute, serious and curious the next as they discussed ingredients, mesmerized me. They fed off of each other’s sentences and listened so closely to what the other said. It was as if Tessa had finally found the grandma she’d never had, and Grandma could finally share her cooking secrets with someone who actually understood what the hell she was talking about.
“I more than like her,” I confessed, looking back at Trey. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” he said soberly, shaking his head. “She deserves a guy like you, someone who’s going to treat her well.”
“Thanks.”
“I think she’s good for you, too,” he continued. “You haven’t seemed like such a robot during your lectures lately. It’s like you’re a real person up there now, babbling about psychology stuff.”
“A robot?” I asked, entertained by his description. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He laughed. “I don’t know. You show more emotion when you lecture now. Like if some asshole comes in late or leaves early, you react to it, or when that girl’s cell phone went off during class and you answered it, that was awesome. Before, you wouldn’t even give those types of distractions the time of day.”
He was right. Before Tessa, I observed but kept most of my reactions to myself, specifically my nerves or frustrations. Remembering my first date with her, I laughed. She saw right through me, noticed how anxious I was, and she immediately calmed me down. Her love opened me up, wrapped its arms around my soul, and welcomed all of my eccentricities without judgment.
“You seem happier with her,” Trey concluded with a shrug. “I think that’s great because she’s happy with you, too. I mean, look at her; I don’t think I’ve seen her smile like that in years. She loves this stuff though, planning get-togethers and cooking a bunch of food. When we were really little, she used to make me attend her fake tea parties, even though she didn’t have a tea set. She used the disfigured, microwaved Tupperware, the best china we owned back then. We didn’t have dinners like this, where our family gathered around a table to eat together. The one time Tessa tried to make that happen, my dad passed out at the table and Mom was too high to function.
“So, I know today means a lot to her, because this is something she’s always wanted. To celebrate the holidays together, do it up big with food and people and fun. We never celebrated anything growing up, not even birthdays, until it was just the two of us.”
That explained her love for planning events, I thought.
He glanced back at me and laughed. “I’m probably going to try and extort an A out of you for sleeping with my sister. But all in all, I’m happy for you guys.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Hence the word try.”
“I’m a photography major,” he stated, relaxing into the floral furniture. “Cut me some slack, man.”
“Psychology plays a huge part when it comes to photography.” I shot him a smile, and the smirk on his face instantly dropped.
“Go on …”
Resting my ankle over my opposite knee, I continued channel surfing as I explained. “As a photographer, you have the ability to impact people with your work. You create a relationship between yourself and the viewer, whether you want it or not, which means you need to understand your viewer. Photography isn’t just about taking a great picture in the technical sense. It’s about telling a story to the viewer, evoking some sort of emotion out of them with just a photograph, and essentially revealing some part of yourself, too. Photography is a visual means of communication, and what’s great about it is, no photographer can take the same photo. The minute you pick up your camera, you’re putting your own unique stamp on whatever you capture. Being able to relate to others and understand them as well as yourself will give you the ability to not only take great pictures, but also capture timeless moments that affect people. You want to be great, you need to understand your own mind if you want to affect the minds of others.”
“Shit,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “I’ve never thought of it like that, like getting into other people’s minds.”
With nothing on TV, I set down the remote and smiled at him. “You’re good, Trey. You know your way around a camera, and how to work with lighting and angles and all that.”
“But …”
“If you want to make photography a career, you need to be great,” I reiterated. “And I know you have an eighty-eight point nine percent in my class right now, so—”
“Do you memorize everyone’s grades?” he interjected warily.
“Photographic memory,” I said, tapping my head. “So, I know you’re a good student. You come to class. You turn in assignments on time, and you do fairly well on the tests. If you study your ass off for the final, you could easily bump that B up to an A.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, smiling weakly.
“I also teach a perception course in the spring that I think you’d benefit from. You should enroll in it.”
“I’ll check it out.”
I smiled, humored by his aloof personality. “You should start thinking abo
ut your career now. It’s never too early to start putting your work out there, make a name for yourself. Maybe even put together a gallery.”
That piqued his interest as he raised his brows. “Really? You think I could showcase my work?”
He didn’t even realize how good he was already. I nodded. “Some of our friends have asked about the photographs we have hanging in the apartment. So, I know plenty of people who would pay hundreds for your pictures. You put together a show, advertise it and yourself, and I know people will come to it. If you want to make money doing what you love, you have to start somewhere. Tessa could help you put it together, find a gallery that’ll treat you with respect. Like you said, she loves planning things.”
“Thanks, man.” He stared off into space, with a goofy grin plastered on his face, probably thinking about his work and how he could show it off.
“Anytime,” I offered as I stood. “Now, let’s go see if they need help setting the table. I’m starving.”
He jumped up from the couch. “Me too.”
***
Once the table was set, the four of us took our seats. Grandma and I took up the ends with Tessa and Trey sitting across from one another on the sides. I uncorked the wine and filled our glasses, even Trey’s, despite him being underage. Grandma and Grandpa Jameson had started offering me wine with holiday dinners at a very young age, so filling every glass at the table with pinot noir was tradition.
However, the look Tessa threw my way didn’t go unnoticed as joy spread across Trey’s face.
“So,” Grandma started, setting her wine glass down in front of her. “We usually go around the table and say what we’re most thankful for this year, and then we dig in.”
“Okay,” Tessa said with a nod.
“I’m not going first,” Trey stated, peering around at the four of us.
Grandma laughed and covered his hand with hers. “I’ll go first.”
Taking my seat, I took a sip of my wine and ran through the list of things I was grateful for this year, as Grandma started in on hers.
“First off, I want to thank Tessa and Trey for being here with us today,” she said, smiling at the two of them. “It’s a joy to fill this table with not only food, but people who appreciate all the hard work that went in to making this meal. I’m so thankful that my grandson has you both in his life. It gives me a reason to spoil his friends like they’re my own family, and that’s what I’m most thankful for this year. I’m thankful for my friends who have turned into family.”
