I don’t look back when I take Grayson’s arm and he leads me into school. I don’t answer my phone when it rings moments later with Kyle’s ringtone. I don’t sit with him at lunch, preferring Grayson’s company.
And I pretend not to feel like shit when all I get from my best friend in the whole wide world is a text:
Happy birthday, Crazy Hair.
Kyle – Past
Happy birthday, Crazy Hair. Seriously?
I flip through Savi’s gift, a scrapbook I made with cut-out letters on the cover that spell out “Our Big Book of Dreams”. It took me months to make it, paying keen attention to everything she has said she wants to accomplish, every place she has said she wants to visit, every stamp she has said she wants to place on this world. It wasn’t a chore, since I love hearing her speak. My best friend is a passionate little spark of fire and I always get lost when she gets to talking about her dreams.
And it’s not weird at all that I’ve made her dreams my own because she makes her dreams sound so exciting: swim with the dolphins in an actual ocean (not at some aquarium), find the lost city of Atlantis, reenact that scene in that movie about the sinking ship, collect sand from as many beaches as she can visit, sing a duet with an Elvis impersonator, and the list goes excitingly on. I’d make all her dreams come true if I could, because she deserves every good thing.
Fuck, but she’s amazing.
I should have made her day amazing; should have driven her to school; should have given her the fanfare she deserves, because, goddammit, she deserves every good thing.
Instead, I’m over here sulking in my room because my best friend in the whole wide world spent her entire day with my douche-canoe cousin, Grayson. Let’s be real, though, I kinda deserved it. I didn’t do any of the things I should’ve done. I let Becky take up too much of my time and I think it’s torn the very fabric of our friendship.
Grayson is so messed up, too. He just had to swoop in and save the day, making me look like an even bigger asshole. They’ve been so chummy lately, and it makes my stomach churn with unease. My relationship with Becky is basically shoving her into his arms. He’s been trying to get her attention for months, but he wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like Savi. She’s so spunky, strong-willed, funny and just…different. Unique.
Mine.
“Who said that?” I startle, looking around my empty room.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I conclude that I’m losing it. I sigh and flop back down into bed, and the picture I hide under my pillow to look at every night peeks out. It’s of us picking each other’s nose. It’s not the only picture I have of her, of us, but it’s the most meaningful.
We’d taken it last year in a picture booth at a carnival. It wasn’t weird at all that the picture we decided to take first was of us picking each other’s nose – it was just us. We toed the line between gross and inappropriate. We knew each other and accepted each other’s quirks. She’s my best friend, but I might have wedged a Grand Canyon-like space between us because of my vagina-loving ways.
I’ve screwed the pooch on this one, but I’ll be damned if I let the pooch screw me. I’m gonna win my best friend back, even if I hate that that’s all we are, or will ever be.
The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
I cup a hand over my mouth and breathe into it and cringe.
Oh, wait, that’s just my mouth…
Chapter Four – Ruiner of Dreams
Savi – Present
BOYD TOPS OFF my drink, a confused look on his face. He has been listening to me intently and I must give the guy credit – he seems genuinely interested in my story. I sure do know how to pick best friends!
“So, by giving you a unicorn necklace, Grayson ruined things for you and Kyle?” he asks, now wiping down the counter.
“No, well, sort of,” I answer, knocking back the drink. The room spins and I close my eyes and hang on to the edge of the table, steadying gravity…or something like that.
“I’m cutting you off,” he announces, swiping my glass and replacing it with a bottle of water.
“Water is for pussies!” I argue, tossing the offending bottle on the floor. My head swims, the liquor drowning my system, but I would rather run around naked at a Super Bowl half-time concert than admit to Boyd that he is right – I’ve had one too many.
“Well, you do have a pussy,” he states, rather matter-of-factly, placing another bottle in front of me. “So, drink up, pussy.”
He winks at me and I wish I had enough coordination to punch him in the throat.
“Touché, Boyd.”
I gulp some of the water down when I finally get it open after three tries. Boyd the bartender had just stands there, laughing at me while I struggle to open the bottle. Trying to unscrew a cap while inebriated is a task and a half, lemme tell ya; and bestie Boyd is absolutely no help.
A gentleman’s lady he is not…or something like that.
“So, Grayson?” he prods, filling up a pitcher of beer for a patron and sliding it toward them.
It is at that moment I decide to check my cell phone. Through bleary eyes, I type in the password that I really need to change…for everything – crazyhair – and check my missed calls and messages from earlier. I have tons from he who shall not be named and one from Grayson. Deciding to forego my best friend’s text messages – I haven’t enough whiskey in my system for those – I tap open the lone message from Grayson:
Heard the idiot sent you a wedding invitation. Wanna meet up so we can have a bonfire…with it?
I laugh, despite my breaking heart and then tear up. My emotions are all over the place because all I can think about is my best friend who is so unbelievably clueless! I mean, how could he? Hell, Grayson gets it, gets me. He does not need to send me a shit ton of messages to ask me how I am or overload my cell with calls. He just knows; knows that this will be hard for me, knows that I am probably plotting how to become Amish so that I can get out of this.
“And this is why Grayson Moxam is a ruiner of dreams,” I announce to new bestie Boyd, flashing him the screen of my cell phone.
Boyd’s eyes widen and, almost immediately, fill with sympathy. “Jeez, girl. I’m sorry.”
Groaning, I smack my forehead on the counter, almost feeling sober with the emotions now called up. I thought that with time this would get easier; that I would eventually learn to accept this sour news; that I would go find out where they are registered…and not torch the place.
“How much time could someone get for arson?” I ask contemplatively.
“It depends,” Boyd starts to answer before filling another pitcher of beer and passing it to the barfly next to me. Then he continues, “Will there be any human remains after the blaze?”
I go to answer, but stop, contemplating my crimes. Boyd laughs and shakes his head before pointing out, “You are one fucked in the head broad.”
“Again, I blame Grayson.”
Savi – Past
It is the day after my birthday and that “new woman” feeling I’m supposed to have after turning seventeen is not there. My plan to lose my virginity, while derailed yesterday because of my idiot best friend and my period, is only delayed for now. I stretch my tired limbs, hating myself for staying up so late last night. Most of it was spent arguing with myself as to whether I should text Kyle or not.
The decision was taken from me with a simple incoming text:
Who do u think wld win if Puss n’ Boots & Cat in the Hat got n2 a fight?
Totally random and totally Grayson.
We had ended up talking about everything and not a damn thing for the next two hours. He had me cracking up for most of that time, and the other times were spent getting to know each other. He had that Moxam magic where he had me hanging on to his every word and was so easy to talk to.
Getting out of bed with a small, reminiscing smile on my lips, I stop in my tracks, slapping a hand over my mouth to cover the scream threatening to wake everyone on my str
eet. It takes a moment for my heart rate to slow because, seriously, what the fuck?
Sleeping on my sky-blue futon with his mouth wide open, drool leaking from the corner of it, and his hand down his crotch, is Kyle. I stare at him for a second, his very presence pulling me in. Even in sleep, he looks larger than life. It is almost as if my room has taken on a different atmosphere just to accommodate him. He looks like he belongs here. But I’m pissed, because…
Seriously, what the fuck?
“Kyle!” I quietly yell, hitting him with a nearby throw pillow.
“Yahtzee!” he mumbles, jerking awake.
His eyes stumble around the room. My guess is he’s trying to figure out where he is.
“Huh? Wha-?” His eyes finally land on me and he exhales. “Oh, right.”
Irritated, I fold my arms at my middle, tapping my foot as I await an explanation. Kyle’s eyes follow the movement, and then they bulge. Glued to my folded arms, Kyle swallows, but doesn’t make a move to explain himself.
Or take his hand from his crotch. Weird.
“Dude, start talking or I am so setting Spike on you,” I threaten and, as if he heard me say his name, my terrorist dog starts yapping and scratching at my door.
Kyle, in turn, flashes me a lopsided grin that has my stomach doing one of Spike’s famous flipsies.
“You know Spike loves me,” he challenges with a wink.
He’s right and I hate him in this very moment because, despite him being a shitty best friend and pulling this “It puts the lotion on its skin” stunt, he still has the ability to make me weak in the knees.
Bastard.
I shake out of his Moxam charm and demand, “Explain.”
He sighs, hanging his head before getting up from the futon, pulling his hand out of his pants – finally – and stretching. I watch his movements, transfixed, and my heart stops. Kyle starts talking and my hearing goes in and out with the thundering of my heart.
“Bad friend…”
Boom, Boom.
“Sorry…”
Boom, Boom.
“Make it up to you…”
Boom, Boom.
“Best friend…”
Ka-boom!
I stand there, catatonic, staring at the exposed skin of Kyle’s V-line that forces my eyes downward to the hardness bulging at the front of his pants. My breaths are coming out in ragged bursts and my room is suddenly too hot, too small, too…Kyle. I feel his eyes on me and I’m terrified to look up. Caught ogling, but unable to look away.
I mean, how unfair is life right now? He’s handsome, with a great body, and seems to have a nice penis…and we’re just friends? What did I do in my past life to warrant this kind of punishment?
Kyle takes a step toward me and my heartbeat goes haywire. Heat creeps up my neck and flames my face the way a wildfire starts in brush and consumes a forest. I don’t even have to look down to know that my nipples are hard. I feel them. And if I can feel them…
He can see them.
“Savi,” Kyle whispers, his voice like sandpaper on my already shot nerves.
My eyes don’t make the long trail up his body. No. They stay zoned in on the hard length in his pants that seems to want to Hulk Smash its way out. His dick twitches and I shudder out a breath before my eyes drift closed. I don’t want my best friend to see what’s in my eyes; don’t want him to see the clear picture in my baby blues.
I want him. Dear God, I want him.
He’s closer now. I feel him crowd me, or that’s probably just the sudden smallness of my otherwise mid-size room. When I open my eyes, though, he is all over me – his naturally-Kyle scent, his presence, his need.
His need is what I feel most of all.
And as his shaking hand reaches out, the electric pull I’ve always felt toward my best friend is even more charged now. His fingers finally meet the skin exposed by my tank top and it feels hot, too hot. I suck in a deep breath at the contact, almost losing grip on consciousness.
Warm, tentative hands make a slow trek up my torso, sneaking under my tiny tank top. I’m losing my grip on control, breathing hard and choppy. Kyle’s eyes are on his hand that has stopped its travels right at my ribcage. He looks lost but also found, in a way; as if this moment has been long coming. He looks in awe.
“Savi,” his voice is softer now, but his fingers dig into my flesh and I finally lose my balance.
My knees give out beneath me, but Kyle pulls me into him. Strong, sure hands hold me in place, forcing me to steady myself on his biceps. Has he been working out? And how do I get a front row seat to that show?
“Savi,” Kyle barely makes out before his lips land on my forehead then my cheek.
I’ve stopped breathing but I manage a soft release of a question, “Kyle?”
That’s all it takes for my wildest dreams to come true.
Kyle’s lips fuse against mine and we freeze for a hot second before we lose ourselves to the moment. It starts out hesitant at first, both of us scared, both of us so unsure. Then it builds. Our lips feel right against each other’s. Gooseflesh break out on my skin and I feel almost drunk.
“What are we doing?” he whispers against my lips, confused.
“I don’t know…” But it feels right.
Our eyelids flutter closed at the same time and we seem to pull each other closer as if we can hardly get enough. Our bodies meld, hearts beating rhythmically as one. Nirvana explodes around us and we savor this moment as the Universe rights itself for us. This has been a long time coming. With a groan, Kyle’s tongue presses forward and, as if I hadn’t had a choice, I open and meet his stroke with my own. That’s when things take a turn for the hot and heavy.
Tongues, teeth and lips clash. We’re fevered. Messy and out of control. Our hands are everywhere – tugging each other’s hair, tearing at each other’s clothes. In our mad rush to get closer, I kick something that feels like a book but ignore it as I’m too caught up in the whirlwind of passion to see what it is. The enzymes in my belly are doing the drunken samba.
And the crowd goes wild!
My tank top is torn down my shoulder, then Kyle’s lips are there. Sucking, nipping, licking. My mind goes blank and I am lost to sensation, stuck between heaven and hell and right and wrong.
This is definitely wrong – he has a girlfriend for crying out loud! But the way my pussy clenches, it feels oh…so…right. Everything he does to me sends a message directly to my core. I’m dripping. Wetter than a water slide at a theme park. There’s a pressure between my legs and I can’t stand it. Pressing my legs close together, a deep groan echoes in the back of my throat, because all that does is make the ache worse.
I wish I wasn’t on my period.
Kyle’s lips find mine again, this time gentler. Patient. It’s as if he’s savoring me, this moment. His fingers brush my breast and my whole body tingles at contact. He tentatively cups a globe in his palm and I groan, my nipples puckering to seek his attention. Arousal makes my breasts feel heavy with longing and I sigh when he squeezes one of them. He pinches and rolls my nipple between his fingers and I whimper loudly, not caring that my parents are downstairs…or that my traitor of a dog could hear us and rat me out somehow.
I want more, need more.
Feeling daring, my fingers drift down to the front of his shorts and I grip his hard length, my core clenching at the evidence of his need. My best friend hisses at contact but doesn’t stop kissing me. We are toeing a dangerous line, our emotions and desire driving us to a careless slope. We are slipping, but we can’t stop…not even if w tried. This has been an inevitability from the moment we met.
Kyle’s fingers toy with my very sanity. The things he is doing to me has a desperate need coiling in my body. I feel a tug deep inside me and I realize that I could very well orgasm from what he is doing to my nipples alone.
Until Grayson fucks it all to hell.
My cell phone goes off with You’ve Got a Friend in Me, Grayson’s ringtone, but I don’t mak
e an attempt to answer it. Kyle pulls away, brows furrowed, because he knows the ringtone, too. When the phone rings out, he visibly calms and pulls me in for a deeper kiss.
I like kissing him.
“Honey!” I hear my Mom call out to me, and we pull apart once more, the spell barely broken.
We’re locked in a staring match, both gasping, taking in lungsful of air. Shaky fingers touch my lips and I feel how swollen they are. I would pinch myself, but I bruise easily, so…
A giddy smile spreads across my lips and I am torn between breaking out in song like a Disney movie and jumping up and down in the middle of my queen-sized bed. Either will probably be damaging to me in some way, but this is too good a feeling to not celebrate.
I kissed my best friend, and I loved it.
“Savannah, are you up?” Mom asks, closer now.
Did I lock my bedroom door?
“I need to get outta here, don’t I?” Kyle seems to hate the idea of leaving as much as I do.
Before I get a chance to answer him, Mom chimes in with a knock, and “Grayson’s waiting for you downstairs.”
“Fuck!” I swear, grabbing my cell phone from the nightstand and checking it. “I totally forgot he was taking me paintballing today.”
I look up from my Motorola and watch in horror as a figurative bucket of water, of Antarctic coldness, douses our moment. Kyle’s face turns to stone as he straightens.
“Lazy bones, you up?” Mom calls out again.
“I’m up!” I answer back.
“Well, don’t keep the hottie waiting,” she yells through the door.
And I want to die.
Grayson isn’t Kyle’s favorite person, so I can understand the betrayal I’m seeing in his eyes right now.
“Kyle,” I begin, trying to explain.
“So, you guys have a date?” he asks, a hard edge to his voice.
I reach a hand behind me to tug on my hair – my universal sign of nervousness. Answering, I tell him, “It’s not a date. We’re just…hanging out.”
My voice is small, and I feel like I’m being punished.
Better Late Than Never Page 5
