by Coralee June
I wanted to do it again.
“Lance is like my brother, you know?” he said while scrubbing his hands along his face, squeezing his eyes shut like it was too difficult to look at me. The turmoil in his eyes was too much to take in. I’d fleetingly predicted this somewhere between palming his dick and coming on his hand. I knew it would lead to this—we both did.
And yet we didn’t stop. We stole sighs from one another, reveled in the friction of our bodies and the taboo nature of our desire for one another. We kissed like alcoholics, sipping wine from our lips for a brief buzz. It should have felt cheap, but it didn’t. It felt selfish and wrong.
“I know. This was nothing, remember?” I took a baseball bat to those words and slammed them till they broke. How could something so vibrant and beautiful feel so hollow now? His eyes raged, daring the both of us to whisper what we both knew. Feelings like this came in waves, and both of us were drowning. I didn’t say that though.
We disappeared into our respective rooms with lead-filled steps. I could feel the ominous dare hovering over us. Say something. Admit something. Feel something. Want something.
I pitied myself for a little while. Spent hours counting the shadows on my ceiling as cars passed outside. This was what Mama did. She pined after men that didn’t care about her. She kept saying he would be different. Or, this is the one, Blakely. I can feel it.
And for all my talk of not being like her, I realized that I was just running in circles, dragging myself right back to where it all started. I was a woman that compromised her happiness for a man willing to compromise his morals for a warm body. It made me sick, and I told myself enough was enough. I couldn’t do this to myself, if not for Lance, for Mama. I didn’t watch her die a painful death just to become like her. I was smart. I was headstrong. I was deviant and determined.
So I got ready for class with a smile stitched between my cheeks. My steady hands applied soft makeup to my lashes. My heels hugged the arch of my foot as I strutted around the loft, avoiding the kitchen because I couldn’t stomach the idea of breakfast.
And I drove myself to class.
Maximillian met me at my locker, leaning against the cold metal with a notebook in his hand and a boyish grin on his face. “How are you this morning, Blakely?”
I returned his good-natured grin while chewing on the mint gum in my mouth. I was gnashing the rubber treat so hard my jaw was sore. I convinced myself that I wasn’t pretending it was Decker between my teeth, though I could almost taste rust-like blood pooling in my mouth, thanks to my overactive imagination. “I’m wonderful, you?” I asked, the lie making my teeth loosen from their blow.
“Better now.” Maximillian Hemsworth had charm in spades. It was a physical allure that teased your senses. His shirt was effortlessly pressed but not too stiff. His hair looked the perfect amount of messy and tame. His tie was slightly crooked, and those massive arms of his flexed the moment my eyes landed on them.
“You’ve got game, Maximillian,” I replied with a smile, but I wanted to scowl. Dark hair and pursed lips flooded my mind. I whisked them away. I was armor, baby. Steel.
“I feel like I’m pulling out all the stops. How about you let me take you to dinner?” Maximillian asked before shoving his right hand inside his pants pocket and bouncing on the balls of his feet, feigning that coy shyness I’m sure he thought girls loved. I breathed him in. Even his cologne, a masculine hint of sandalwood and bergamot, seemed orchestrated in some way.
No was the word I wanted to blurt out. “Why not?” I replied with a shrug. If I tried to put distance between Decker and me, Maximillian might be the man for the job—my metaphorical rehab, so to speak. Some people were like drugs. They made you feel great for a little bit, but then you felt like molten tar from the inside out. Decker was prime, white-powdered cocaine. The kind of stuff Mama bought with our tax refund money.
“Your enthusiasm is doing wonders for my pride, doll,” Maximillian replied while biting his lip. I fluttered my lashes, a move I’d seen Mama do a million times, and it made me sick. I was just about to open my mouth to lick his wounds with some verbal enthusiasm, but a dark presence breezed past us. It felt like someone had walked over my grave. I turned to stare. Decker had dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and a blank expression on his face. He walked past like I was…
Nothing. Like I was nothing. Exactly what we told each other we’d be.
“Hey, Mr. H!” Maximillian called at his back. Decker paused. His spine so stiff it could cut ice.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he spun around to face us, his eyes never once greeting mine. “Get to class, Mr. Hemsworth,” Decker gritted out before heading off toward his classroom.
Maximillian let out a low whistle. “Damn. I don’t know how you tolerate him. Grumpy bastard,” he said with a laugh. I nodded because it was the expected thing to do. Because if I didn’t, I would have dropped everything and chased after Decker to demand an explanation or a promise. Neither would be productive.
“Let’s go to class, alright?” I said before looping my arm through his in a comfortable gesture that felt like pricks on my skin.
“As you wish.”
Decker was insufferable in class. It was like someone had shoved a stick so far up his ass that he was speaking in splinters. “Taylor, are you going to raise your hand for every question I ask, or do you have plans on letting other students speak up?” he asked while clicking through a slideshow on the front screen, letting out puffs of white-hot annoyance with every exhale. Beside me, Taylor lowered her hand before leaning forward so that her brown hair covered her embarrassed flush. Biology had never been so…tense.
“What is the purpose of an enzyme? You should have learned this last year, so every damn hand in this room better be up,” Decker gritted. No one seemed fazed that he was cursing in class.
My hand was the first to shoot up, and his eyes glossed over me like I didn’t exist. Buick raised his hand with a lazy wave as he stretched his back. “Yes, Buick?” Decker called on him.
“It’s a protein that speeds up the chemical reactions in our bodies,” he answered effortlessly while adjusting his thick glasses.
“Great, you actually read something last year, Buick. Congratulations,” Decker replied before taking a long gulp of his coffee and slamming it down on the desk.
He continued like that for a while, calling on everyone in the class while completely ignoring my existence. It was pissing me off. When we agreed on nothing, I hadn’t imagined he meant in the classroom, too. Every time I raised my hand, his eyes avoided the expanse of my skin and the annoyance in my expression. It was like I didn’t even exist.
“What are the different types of living organisms?” Decker asked before cracking his neck. There were only five minutes left in the class period, and I was determined to answer at least one question.
I raised my hand and blurted out the answer without waiting on him to call on me. “Eukaryotes and prokaryotes. Or multicellular organisms and unicellular organisms. Eukaryotic cells have a nucleus, while prokaryotic cells do not.” It was a reasonably straightforward question that I’d known the answer to since middle school, but I was proud to get the chance to answer all the same.
Decker finally, finally took a look at me. It was a glower that felt both disinterested and furious. He didn’t acknowledge my words. Didn’t say whether I was right or wrong. “Class dismissed,” he growled. Everyone collected their belongings just as the bell rang, but I kept rooted to my seat.
Maximillian stopped at my desk. “Ready for lunch?” he asked before glancing over his shoulder. Decker’s bad mood didn’t go unnoticed in the slightest, and he seemed eager to get the hell out of Mr. Harris’s domain.
“Yep. I’ll be right there,” I replied with a bright smile, hoping the annoyance I felt didn’t show through my clenched teeth.
Maximillian squeezed my hand, which was clutching the wooden desk with a vice-like grip, before heading out, his leather backpack slung o
ver his shoulder. “If you want to discuss something school-related, you’ll need to schedule an appointment during my office hours, Miss Stewart,” Decker said before flipping through a stack of papers with white knuckles and a sour expression.
“You need to chill,” I whispered before getting up and walking over to his desk. “I get you’re freaked out about what happened but—”
“I suggest you keep your mouth shut, Miss Stewart. I’m freaked out about nothing, I assure you.”
“So your piss-poor attitude is just your natural disposition? Hmm. Makes sense.” My words were like a slap, and his face flamed with anger the moment the insult left my lips.
“I’m sorry, did you just insult your teacher, Miss Stewart? That’s highly inappropriate behavior.”
“What’s inappropriate is you punishing me for something we both did. Stop ignoring me. Stop avoiding me. Can we please just go back to being awkward friends that love Lance? Last night was…” Decker winced as my voice trailed off.
“If you say nothing, I might lose my goddamn mind,” he grunted.
“I was going to say great. Let’s move forward cordially.”
Decker stood up and rounded his desk, heading over to me with a frown. “That’s the thing, Blakely,” he whispered, his hot breath feathering over my skin as he sunk closer to me. Oh so, so close. He was just an exhale away. It was wrong, but my skin tingled, my breath hitched. He was so close yet felt worlds away. “You feel this?” he asked.
I swallowed before answering. “Yes,” I replied.
“This is why I can’t just move forward. I’ve always been an all or nothing kind of guy. I can’t entertain a cordial existence with you because I’m not strong enough to hold back. I promised Lance space, so that’s what I’m going to give you. Please respect my restraint by not testing it further. Leave.”
Like a rubber band pulled so tight it was on the brink of snapping, Decker took a step backward and let out an exhale of relief once we were out of one another’s orbits. “Okay,” I offered. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? I didn’t want a man with half-hearted intentions that got off on a woman’s attention. He set the boundary, and I decided then to respect it.
“Go to lunch, Miss Stewart,” he ordered.
“Yes, Mr. Harris.”
17
Decker
Lance was calling. I stared at my phone, willing his name to disappear. I’d never ignored his calls. I’d usually been overly eager to speak with him my entire life. He’d always been a lifeline—a brother. But now I was hiding from his calls like a pussy.
I answered it just before it went to voicemail. “Hello?” my voice lacked the usual warmth I generally reserved for my best friend.
“Hey man, you okay?” Lance asked. I could hear the whirling echo of his car as it sliced through the wind and traveled down the highway. It annoyed me how easily he picked up on my turmoil with one single greeting.
“Yeah. Just a rough day at work. Teaching isn’t easy, you know?” I played it off, hoping he bought my story. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that only one student was driving the ever-living crazy out of me.
Last night was a mistake of catastrophic proportions. I wasn’t self-absorbed enough to compare the pain I felt to global warming, but if I were ice caps, I would have melted. The oceans were rising. Waves upon waves of shame were filling me up.
“I hear ya,” Lance agreed, slipping quickly into the conversation. “This new hotel owner is going to be the death of me. He wants me to come to Louisiana weekly for meetings. I don’t know, man.”
I gritted my teeth. Weekly meetings weren’t an option. One night was all it took for my resolve to crumble. Maybe I should move into my barely-renovated home already. It didn’t have running water or electricity yet, but at least she wouldn’t be there.
“That’s ridiculous,” I agreed, maybe a bit too harshly.
“I don’t want to be gone all the time. Blakely and I are finally connecting. I don’t want to ruin that by being in Louisiana all the time. Plus, I’d miss you. Then there’s Sean.” Sean was Lance’s newest boyfriend. I hadn’t met him, which was how I knew it wasn’t serious, but I was surprised to hear Lance bring him up.
“Tell the hotel manager that you can do virtual meetings. If he wants you in Louisiana, he’ll have to pay a premium. And obviously, we need to talk about Sean. Is it getting serious?” I prodded. Lance always had a stream of partners. Men. Women. Old. Eccentric. Docile. Bland. Vibrant.
Lance just loved. Plain and simple. Most of the time, it got him in trouble. He didn’t have a type; he was attracted to souls. I often wondered if his need to connect and burn bright was because his flesh and blood gave him up as a baby, but I never asked.
“I think it’s time you meet him. I’m nervous. Do you think Blakely will like him? We haven’t necessarily had the coming out parade. Everyone in my life has just always known that I’m pansexual, and I’m kind of anxious to tell her.”
I let out a slow, steady breath. “I don’t know Sean, so I’ll have to reserve judgment. If he’s anything like that Blair bitch project you brought home last time, you might need to worry. Blakely isn’t going to care who you stick your dick into.”
“You’re right. Why am I so fucked about her accepting me?”
Because Blakely was the type of person you craved acceptance from, I thought.
“Because she’s your sister, and it’s still new,” I answered. I was starting to feel twitchy talking about her, so I switched up the conversation. “We haven’t hung out in a while, just us. Let’s go to Joe’s tonight when you get home. We can talk about Sean and when I’ll get to scare him off.”
Lance laughed. He was always amused by my protectiveness, just as his effortless way of protecting me had always amused me. I had to work at my vigilant behavior; his version of caring came naturally, like breathing.
“I think you’ll like him. Let’s go out to Joe’s—just us. I know things have been different since Blakely showed up. It’s okay to admit you want some time with your best friend.”
I did miss him. I missed what we were before she showed up. I missed the absence of guilt. I missed not knowing this sense of yearning and pain. “Yeah, yeah whatever, fucker.”
Lance chuckled. “It’s always just been you and me. Everything is changing. Sean. Blakely. You’re still my best friend, Decker,” he said with a smile. “Still my bro.”
“Don’t get sentimental on me. You know I’m not good at that shit. See you tonight,” I laughed half-heartedly before hanging up the phone. Lance was like a brother to me, and he was the reason I couldn’t continue this thing with Blakely.
I looked around my classroom, my eyes zoning in on Blakely’s seat. It killed me to think of her face, the disappointed glare in her eyes when I’d dismissed her. I guess, in some ways, I felt like her mother—putting myself and my friendship with her brother first. This would be better for us in the long run, and I knew that it felt wrong now, but eventually she’d thank me.
I hoped.
I didn’t want to eat at Huck-a-poos. I didn’t want to sit at the bar, listening to Lance vent about Sean while Blakely floated around in her too-tight uniform with her tongue sticking out to lick the salty sweat off her lips. Joe’s was shut down for renovations, so Lance suggested we go here. Hoping not to be suspicious, I readily agreed, though now I regretted not suggesting something else.
My eyes followed her everywhere she went. It was like gravity, the weight of the atmosphere pulling me to stare. She tipped her head back and laughed at something a guy in her section said.
I wanted to know what that fucker said.
I wanted to hear her laugh, but the music was too loud.
“So what do you think?” Lance asked. I snapped my eyes back to him.
“I think that’s great,” I effortlessly answered while kicking myself for not paying attention.
“You think I should go with him to his grandmother’s funeral?” Lance asked, his eyes
dipped in confusion. Shit. I definitely should have been paying attention.
I rolled with the punches. “Does Sean want you to go?” I asked.
“Yes,” Lance replied.
“Do you want to be there to support him?” I pressed, already knowing the answer. Lance would be there for anyone and everyone.
“Well, of course, but it’s all so new. We aren’t official or anything. Isn’t it weird to attend a funeral with someone you’re just...fucking? And what about Blakely? I just got back, and I can’t leave her all weekend. I haven’t told her about him, and you haven’t even met him yet. Shouldn’t we do your usual interrogation before I take a trip with him?”
Shit—fuck—damn. I was slipping. And an entire weekend with Blakely? A war started in my brain, half of me was plotting things to do all weekend to keep out of the house, and the other half kept seeing her lips parted, eyes closed, stars falling under her skin as her back arched in ecstasy.
“Blakely is a grown woman. Just explain to her the situation, and she’ll be understanding,” I promised, though I wanted to slap myself. Blakely wasn’t a grown woman—not really. She was entirely off-limits. “And I’d like to meet Sean eventually, but I think it’s time I start to trust your instincts, Lance.”
“Oh. Okay. Yeah. Right. I’m going to do it. I’m going to tell her,” Lance convinced himself, just as Blakely strutted up with a tray on her shoulder and a tentative grin on her face. Stray blonde strands of hair framed her cheeks in frazzled waves.
“Tell who what?” she asked before setting the tray down on the bar top. It was full of bare plates and food scraps.
“I have a boyfriend,” Lance choked out, his cheeks red and his eyes wild with fear.
“When do I get to meet him?” Blakely asked without skipping a beat. There wasn’t an inch of shock on her face. Good girl.
“Well, his grandmother died unexpectedly today,” Lance explained while dipping his index finger into his whiskey and swirling the mixture around before pulling it out.
