Game Planner

by BJ Harvey

  “It’s because he wants to take the road never traveled, Mom,” Mia says, giggling when I send a death glare her way.

  That’s breaking a sacred oath we made when we were eighteen. One must never share my vow to save my anal virginity for my husband. It’s not like I was ever going to stay an actual virgin, but hoping I would get married eventually, I decided that saving my ass for my one and only would be just as important. Besides, my husband would most likely not be a dirt track rookie, so I’d be in safe—knowledgeable—hands when the time was right. Thankfully, Jase has assured me he knows exactly what to do because he’s been studying.

  “What was that, Mia? I couldn’t hear you,” her mom asks.

  My mother—bless her heart—gawks at me like I’ve grown another head. “Oh, petal. Sometimes you bring a tear to my eye. You’ve missed out on years of good sex.”

  “Oh my,” Mrs. Roberts says, her cheeks turning pink. She lifts her glass and takes a large gulp from her wine. “I think I need another drink for this conversation.” She gets up and disappears inside Mia’s back door.

  “Mom, can we tone down the sex talk around the girls’ mom? She’s not as—”

  “Outgoing?” Dani offers.

  “Open-minded?” Zoe adds.

  “Awesome,” Mia says, completing the triad’s replies.

  Mom meets my eyes, hers crinkling at the sides before she shoots me a wink. “Petal, everyone has sex. Even moms.”

  “Especially moms,” Mia says, leaning forward to offer my mother a high-five. Those two and alcohol are a bad combination.

  “For the record, I have not missed out on any good sex,” I reply, sounding a little bit too defensive. “Jase is a magnificent and very giving lover.”

  “And then some, apparently,” Zoe adds with a snort.

  Okay, yes, I may talk about his exploits a lot, but I’m proud of how good he is with everything God gave him. And guys like to be talked up, right?

  He’s never complained about anything, so that must mean I’m not lacking in the good sex department either. No wonder he wants to nail me down. That, and because he wants my brown wings.

  Punch the chocolate starfish.

  Bite the pillow.

  Dance the chocolate cha-cha.

  Chocolate dip the dic—

  “Petal, it’s very enjoyable. In fact, with Justice, it’s almost an—”

  “Nope. Nuh-uh. That’s where I draw the line, Mom. I do not want to hear about your sex life with Justice or my father. I’ve somehow managed to avoid therapy from my upbringing so far, but that might hurl me right over the edge into Crazy Town.”

  Mom smiles. Zoe chortles, hiding it behind her wine glass. Mia just out-and-out laughs, and Dani—their other sister—who until now has been busy playing on her tablet doing some no-doubt geeky thing looks up and grins. “You’re definitely missing out, Nat. Zach does this thing—”

  “Nope. I don’t wanna hear about Zach doing anything with you, Dani. I love you, but I’ve known you since you were ten years’ old when you didn’t even know what a penis was. This is too much for me to handle with so little alcohol in my system.”

  Mom bites her lip, and I swear she’s about to cry. Over my pending anal cherry-popping? What is this life? “I’m sure Jase appreciates the sacrifice you’ve made for him and will treat it with the care—”

  “And skill required…” Mia adds, looking over to where her own mother is walking back outside.

  “So, Mrs. Roberts, are you free the end of August?” I say, leading us back to the real reason we’re all here.

  She smiles brightly as she takes her seat, full wine glass in hand. “I’ll always be free to see you get married, Natalie. You’re the last one left. I have to make sure you’re seen off in style.”

  “Awesome. Now here’s the thing…” I explain, opening up Jase’s roughly drawn together wedding plan. “This,” I say, pointing to the large unfolded paper on the table, “this is Jase’s dream wedding… or his mother’s, I haven’t quite worked it out, and Jase swears it’s his…”

  “Wait, Jase… as in Jason, the man’s man, who can’t watch TV without his hand down his pants and has to be almost surgically removed from his sports gear for family dinners? That man has a dream wedding?” Zoe says, sounding horrified and scandalized at the same time. “Are we talking about the same man here?”

  I nod, and she laughs. Soon we’re all leaning closer to look at the photos of flowers, fabric swatches, music recommendations, and other details mentioned, even down to the priest who baptized Jase when he was a baby. “I can definitely see this is Jason’s dream wedding now. Who knew you could get Chicago Bears wedding everything?”

  “He’s very romantic at heart,” I reply cautiously. It’s not a lie. I’m just still trying to wrap my head around a football-themed wedding. Jase wants it for our decorations, and flowers, and a navy and orange color scheme right down to the suits, bridesmaid dresses, and my wedding gown.

  “Or he’s eager for the anal,” Dani murmurs under her breath, making me laugh.

  “He does know the saying ‘up the butt, no babies,’ right? Because I’m totally waiting for grandbabies over here,” Mom announces, dragging us back off topic.

  “Oh, grandchildren are delightful,” Mrs. Roberts adds, thankfully looking past her youngest daughter’s anal comment.

  I almost drop to my knees and kiss Mia’s feet when she stands and walks over to my side, leaning over the table to take a closer look at Jase’s big plan. “This is cute, I’ll give him that, and the colors aren’t even that bad, but Nat, a football stadium? Really?” she says, looking down at me. “You never wanted a traditional wedding. Everything you want is in your folder at home.”

  My heart clenches at the thought of all of my dream wedding I’ve been planning since I was young. “I’m happy with whatever Jase wants. It’s going to be beautiful and amazing, and I’ll be the best bride ever in the history of weddings. The royal princesses have nothing on me,” I proclaim, a little too enthusiastically.

  Mia eyes me skeptically, but thankfully, she doesn’t call me out again. “So Jase has a plan. Bet he has a Pinterest board too. How cute,” she says with a shake of her head. “Although letting him choose the bridesmaid dresses might be one step too far.”

  “About those…” I say slowly, biting my lip to hold back a laugh at the speed with which she jerks her gaze back to me.

  She stands ramrod straight and points her finger. “Oh no you don’t. You made me blood promise at fifteen that I would be your maid of dishonor, and I would choose what I got to wear.”

  “Gotcha!” I say with a giggle. “I negotiated on your behalf. You choose the style, he gets the colors.”

  She narrows her eyes. “I suppose that’s better than nothing.”

  “At least you get a wedding to be dishonorable at.”

  Mia gasps. “I had a wedding. You were my witness. I didn’t break any promises.”

  “To be fair, Meems, getting married by Elvis in Vegas isn’t exactly a full-on wedding,” Dani says with a quirked brow.

  “It was beautiful,” their mom adds. “Stop goading your sister, Danika.”

  “Yeah, Danika,” Zoe mimics with a smirk.

  “I have fond memories of Zoe’s wedding,” Mia says, taking her seat and grinning wickedly.

  “I’m sure the cameras in the supply closet do too,” I add, laughing when her eyes bug out of her head.

  “There weren’t cameras!” she says, her face paling. “Were there?” she whispers, which just makes Zoe, Danika, and I lose it completely.

  “I hate you guys,” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff.

  And with the Roberts sisters bickering like they’ve done their whole lives, I know I’ve dodged the bullet as far as Mia pushing the wedding issue with me again.

  It’s okay. I want Jase—or more likely, his mother—to have their dream day. Marriage is about making your partner happy, right? And this is what Jase wants.


  I just want Jase. It’s not the ceremony that matters—it’s the man I get to keep at the end of it. I mean the words; I really do. Well, mostly. Maybe ninety-five percent, because I am a girl, and girls do have ideas about these things. They may not be normal, everyday wedding dreams, but I always envisioned something a little different, a little more me. Seeing Jase so excited when he was explaining how our wedding day would go, I wasn’t about to burst his bubble with my ideas. Marriage is all about compromise. I give up this, he’ll give up something in return. Maybe our kids’ names. I mean, surely, he’ll let me choose those. Right?

  “Hey, can I ask you something?” I say on the drive home.

  Jase reaches over and gently squeezes my leg. “You can ask anything without asking if you can ask first. That’s the power of the engagement ring, you know.”

  One glance at the sexy smirk curving his lips, and I lose my train of thought. I want to close the distance between us and kiss the shit out of him.

  “Ah… Nat, you had a question?” he asks, turning his eyes to mine before returning them to the road.

  I shake my head. “Oh yeah. Can you stop turning me on for a second so I can ask it then?”

  His smile widens, and I growl under my breath. He holds one hand up in surrender. “Okay, I’ll stop. Ask me, baby.”

  “How many kids do you want?”

  He furrows his brow, his fingers twitching against my thigh. “We had this conversation years ago. I thought we agreed.”

  “We did,” I say with a nod. “I was just wondering whether you had changed your mind or not, or if—you know—you had any names in mind…”

  “Are you trying to tell me something here?” he says carefully as he slows for a red light. Turning his torso to face me, he squeezes my leg. “Nat, are you—”

  “Oh, shit no. Well, at least I don’t think so.” I mentally calculate my cycle in my head and breathe a sigh of relief when the dates all work out. “Nope, not pregnant. I know your parents are cool and all, but I don’t think they’d want their son marrying a pregnant bride. You know, shotgun wedding and all. My parents would be fine, of course, they’d just—”

  “Nat—”

  “And Mia’s already cornered the pregnant wife status. And the Vegas one. And the—”

  “Natalie,” he growls, snapping me out of my ramblings. I may have enjoyed a few too many wines.

  “Yeah?”

  The signal turns green, and he starts driving again. “Kids?”

  “Oh yeah,” I say with a giggle. Turning my head, I rest my cheek on the headrest and gaze at my future husband. Who cares if he wants everything Chicago Bears for our wedding? I kind of dig the navy and orange color scheme. It could be kind of cool, and memorable. Definitely that.

  I reach down to cover his hand with mine, sliding his higher up my thigh.

  “Princess…” His voice is low and rough now, that perfect sound he makes when he’s near the edge of his limit—either with my rambling or my teasing, or probably both.

  “You’d make a good dad. Did you know that?”

  He furrows his brows, his fingers freezing at the top of my leg. I urge him to keep going, but he doesn’t budge. “You know it’s not exactly normal to be talking about how I’ll be a good father when you’re pushing my hand between your legs, right?” he says.

  I shrug, a little giggle escaping my lips. “I was multi-tasking. Putting my mind at rest while getting my castle warmed up, ready for you to storm it with your knight when we get home.”

  He opens his mouth then shuts it again a few times, before giving me a curious side-eye and sliding his hand back down to my knee. “This is totally out of character for me, but how about we get the important issue of making you feel comfortable about whatever it is that has you uncomfortable, then we’ll get back to the disturbingly arousing concept of my knight storming your castle?”

  “You forgot about claiming your princess.”

  “Oh, I did that years ago, and I’ll be claiming the last part of her on our wedding night.”

  “You remembered!”

  “A man like me doesn’t forget a promise like that, Nat.” He shakes his head. “Never fucking ever.”

  I can’t help but smirk. I know it’s a weird thing to save for my future husband, but I’m super glad I did.

  He slows and flicks the turning signal on before pulling into our driveway and bringing the car to a stop. After shutting the engine off, he dumps the keys on the dash and turns his entire body my way. “Nat, kids?”

  I swallow and grip his hand tighter. “I was just wondering. You know how you get the wedding—do I get the kids?”

  He tilts his head, his eyes roaming over my face. “I get the wedding?”

  “Well, yeah. Your vision board and all that,” I say, waving my other hand in the air.

  “And all that?”

  “Yeah. The whole Bears theme. The stadium. You know, all that.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen his brows rise as high as they do right now.

  “You don’t want that?”

  Oh shit! Backtrack. Abort. Mayday, Mayday. There is no way I’m ever going to admit to him that his dream is not exactly the kind of big day a girl like me dreams of.

  His face is unreadable, but his expression is definitely laced with concern, his jaw tight, his fingers tensing against my knee.

  What did Mom always tell me? Reassurance, respect, and a good old dose of romance. Anyone who’s met my mother knows exactly what that means.

  I run my hand over his arm and glide it up to his shoulder before hooking my fingers behind his neck.

  He rubs his nose against mine. “You still haven’t asked your question about the kids,” he says against my lips.

  I shake my head to clear out the brain fog caused by thoughts of all the kissing and groping and other stuff we’ll be doing as soon as we get inside. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. We can—”

  “Princess, if it’s important to you then it’s definitely important to me. So can you please just tell me what it is you want to know so I can drag you out of my truck, throw you over my shoulder, and take you to our bed for the night?”

  “The night?” I reply breathlessly.

  “The night.” His deep, rough voice leaves absolutely no doubt in my mind that I’ll be getting very little sleep and a whole lot of Jase. Yay!

  I kiss him, crushing my lips to his in a punishing, desperate kiss. He returns the favor with equal vigor, adding in roaming hands and fingers that bite into my skin through my clothes.

  “Kids?” he asks, dragging his mouth over my jaw to my neck.

  “Yes, please,” I whimper as he pulls me over to straddle him. The steering wheel is digging into my back but considering there’s something else that’s hard and a hell of a lot more fun pressing into my front, I’m not going to complain.

  “How many?”

  “As many as you wanna give me.” I’m breathless now, distracted by the magnificent work the man’s lips are performing on my throat.

  “Good answer,” he rumbles, sucking that sensitive spot beneath my ear.

  “Can I name them?” I breathe.

  “You can do whatever you want as long as you keep grinding your hips down on me like that.” He lifts his head and dives right in, his tongue seeking mine like a missile determined to detonate.

  “Deal,” I say, rolling my pelvis hard against his, his rigid cock sliding against my clit in the best possible way.

  “Can we get inside to practice making babies now?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  The last day before the rest of our lives

  You’d think I’d be a bunch of nerves the day before my wedding, but honestly, it has been one of the most relaxing days of my life. We woke up late, got out of bed later, and then spent the afternoon having lunch at our favorite Wicker Park restaurant and walking around a few shops. Nothing out of the ordinary, but not exactly what you’d expect a soon-to-be-wed couple to be doing on their last day o
f singledom.

  A few weeks ago, Jase was scandalized when I suggested that we spend the night before our wedding apart.

  I’m zipping up my overnight bag in our bedroom, having made sure all supplies required for our wedding night are stowed away and ready for filthy married debauchery when Jase calls out to me from the living room. “Princess, come here, and make sure you’re dressed.”

  Well, that’s something I don’t hear from his mouth very often.

  With my interest piqued, I leave the bag on the bed and exit the room, making my way to the front of the house.

  “What’s up?” I stop short at the sight of a huge bunch of white roses and a big white box sitting on the coffee table. “Aww, babe, what have you done?” I ask, my lips curving up.

  He shakes his head, his eyes wide with surprise. “As much as I would love to take credit for this, it wasn’t me.”

  “Who’s it from then?” Walking over toward his side, I look down at the gifts, my brows furrowed. “Maybe it’s from your parents?” I ask, reaching out to grab the card from the arrangement. “It’s from Matt and Mia. But I don’t understand what it means. I mean, I get it, but I thought we were just having quiet nights apart with our respective best friends.”

  Taking the card from my outstretched fingers, he turns it over, his expression changing to one of confusion as he reads the message.

  We thought long and hard about what we could give you as a wedding present, and once we realized you’ve already got everything you’ll ever need in each other, we decided we could give you a sendoff you’d never forget. So enjoy the flowers—because Jase, we know you’re not a flowers kind of guy—and in the box is what you need to be wearing when a taxi picks you up at six tonight. Love Matt, Mia, Emma, Jade, and Sadie. P.S Nat, bring your bag. You won’t be coming home until you’re a married, anally deflowered woman.

  “Let’s open the box and see if that gives us a clue,” I suggest, leaning down to lift up the lid. My eyes go wide before I burst out laughing at the Chicago Bears jersey sitting on top with “Mrs. Jase” embroidered on the back. I pull it out, revealing a matching men’s jersey underneath stating “Mr. Nat.”