Better Late Than Never

by Ghiselle St. James

  My best friend is yet to look in my direction, but I know she knows I’m here. She is trying too hard to ignore me. It’s in the rigidity of her posture. She is sitting at the front of the audience with her grandmother. Her purple hair is in a neat bun, exposing her neck. Her dress falls off her shoulder and is a sleek metallic silver ensemble that I cannot wait to see on her in its entirety. It brings out the color of her beautiful hair. Although I’ve yet to see the rest of the dress, I know she looks amazing.

  She is wearing the necklace…my necklace, though she does not know it’s from me. When I asked her grandmother to give it to her on our graduation day, I begged her not to tell her it was from me. I wasn’t sure if she would have thrown it in the trash or not, so to be on the safe side, I wanted it to look like it was from a safe place. What safer place than her grandmother?

  Despite the deception, it stirs something in my soul to see that she has not taken it off. I want to gloat and beat my chest like a fucking caveman. Grayson had given her a unicorn necklace for her birthday last year, and while she has worn it a few times, it was never as consistent as she has worn my globe necklace up to this point. I can’t read too much into that since she doesn’t know it’s from me, but it still gives me a fuzzy feeling.

  I watch as she leans over and says something to her grandmother before excusing herself. She starts to walk toward the back, holding her head high and trying not to let our gazes collide. Like I knew it would be, she is stunning in that dress – a floor-length number made of lace and satin that hugs her torso and flows from her waist down, with a demure slit at the side which starts mid-thigh. Her smooth leg peeks out, teasing me with every step she takes, and I swallow the lump in my throat as she approaches.

  God, but she’s gorgeous.

  She is about to pass me, about to not even acknowledge my existence. She is a hair’s breadth away from my aisle, from me; and I’ll be damned if she ignores me any longer. We are best friends first and, well, I miss my fucking best friend.

  She passes me and something – reflex, I guess – makes me reach out and circle her wrist. I hear her gasp above the cheers. The groom must have kissed the bride. Such an exciting moment missed, yet all I can seem to care about is the fact that I am touching Savi. I feel her shaking but she doesn’t look at me.

  Music cuts on and everyone stands, cheering the happy couple on. I stand and pull her closer to me, determined for her to acknowledge the fact that I’m here and I’m not going to go anywhere. The sooner she gets that through her crazy head, the better for the both of us. If all we can be are friends and not lovers when that time comes, then I will have to accept that. I will take whatever I can get. But it will not be without a fight.

  “You’re gorgeous, Savannah,” I whisper, taking a whiff of her flowery scent.

  Letting her go, I smile when she stumbles off, trying to get her equilibrium back intact. Mine is yet to return ever since she walked into my life.

  We all file to a large gazebo space while the happy couple and bridal party go off to take pictures. The gazebo has been transformed into a cozy reception area. With twinkling lights strung above us, the room is decorated in deep purples, silvers, and blacks giving off a grungy yet ethereal look. The chairs are plush and white with silver and black ribbons tied around them. Whoever did the décor and put this whole thing together has created an unforgettable moment for the happy couple.

  I walk to the side of the gazebo which overlooks the lake and stare out at the vast waters. There is a light sprinkling of snow today, with a slight chill. I can’t help but take in a calming breath as the scene before me. It is so beautiful out here, so serene. Whoever chose this spot was definitely thinking about natural ambience.

  A waiter approaches me and hands me a glass of champagne. Thankful he didn’t try to card me, I take a sip of the crisp liquid, letting it settle in my system. I spot Savannah off to the side speaking to some guys. She is moving her hands, pointing in different areas, as they look at the chart she has. They nod in understanding and move off into the direction she pointed and that’s when realization dawns on me…

  She planned all of this.

  I smile so fucking wide, immensely proud of my girl. She has put together something so beautiful, memorable, and downright professional. She dashes off shortly after, intercepting a guy with a huge ice carving and directs him somewhere, disappearing from my sight. I think of the work she must have put into all of this and look around the room once more with new appreciation.

  Will our wedding be this grand?

  The thought jerks me so violently that my champagne sloshes all over my hand. What in the actual fuck? I brace my arms on the railing and chuckle to myself, obviously losing my damn mind.

  Before I can give it any more thought, two women who seem to be in their early twenties join me at my spot. They shoot me flirtatious glances and I respond with a smile and shake of my head. I am not unaware of what women think of me. My first few months of college showed me that more than high school ever did. The only attention I want right now is Savi’s, and as I look at her crossing the room to talk to some guy with a walkie-talkie, I can’t help being captivated by her.

  “Hi,” a voice calls, pulling me from my primary focus.

  Looking to my right, I see one of the women approach me. The darker blonde. The lighter blonde woman is nursing her champagne and watching the exchange like a hawk. I almost laugh when the one in front of me bats her eyelashes trying to come off as demure. If I tell her to suck my dick right now, I bet she would. Demure my ass…

  These women are all the same: easy. Which is why I love Savannah. She is not about to stroke my ego and fall all over me. She is my biggest fan, but beyond that, she has always been my friend – the only person who has loved me for real, aside from the women in my family. The only woman who tells me the truth, no matter how blunt it is.

  On instinct, my eyes drift over to where Savannah is, and I catch her staring at us. She quickly averts her eyes, acting like she is engrossed in what Walkie-Talkie Guy is saying. I smile, seeing an opening. All I want is a dance with my girl tonight, and I’ll get it…even if I have to be a dick about it.

  “Hi, darlin’,’” I say in an almost-Southern accent, laying on the charm and bass real thick.

  The dark blonde’s eyes go wide and a blush creeps to her cheeks. She’s beautiful, on closer inspection. A tight body with a tight dress on is every man’s dream, yet all I keep seeing is purple hair.

  “Um, okay, so,” the dark blonde starts, playing with the stem of her champagne glass. “My friend over there kinda thinks you’re hot and so do I.”

  “Ditto,” I echo, which is true. They’re hot as fuck.

  “Shit,” she breathes out then quickly catches herself up.

  She slides closer to me and lets her hand brush mine in a non-casual way. “Okay, so we were wondering if you had any plans later on…”

  She leaves the question hanging, allowing me to fill in the blanks. There is no preamble. She has laid it all out for me. A threesome. I won’t fool myself into thinking that she wants us all to have tea or to braid each other’s hair. I know what both of them want, and it has nothing to do with me going home alone, but me going home with them.

  I open my mouth to answer, but someone does for me…and it makes me grin unabashedly. Here we go.

  “He has plans that do not and will never include either of you,” the sweet, venomous voice interjects. “Now scram.”

  The dark blonde’s eyes squint in anger and she readies to give Savi the length of her mind. I don’t see this ending well for anyone, so I step in.

  “I’m sorry, darlin’, but my girlfriend here would chop my balls off and cook ’em in a stew and feed it to me if I went home with y’all,” I explain, salvaging things. I take Savi’s hand, holding it firm when she tries to pull away. “Thanks for the offer, though. Y’all are really sweet.”

  I walk away, pulling Savannah with me, knowing I am about to get an earful an
d hardly caring that I will.

  “Still love you, cousin!” the dark blonde shouts while we are still in earshot.

  Shocked, I turn to Savi. “You’re related?”

  Savi shrugs noncommittally which tells me that she doesn’t care for the woman. “They both are. They’re sisters and I call them sister hoes, though not to their faces.”

  I almost have a fit as I burst out laughing. This girl.

  “What am I gonna do with you?” I ask, not expecting a response.

  “Save me from Walkie-Talkie Guy over there?” she responds, doing a little head nudge in the direction of the guy in question.

  “That’s exactly what I called him in my head a few minutes ago,” I echo, chuckling at how alike we are.

  “Twinsies!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together.

  “Dear God, Savannah,” I gripe. “Dance with me, and please, never say that word again.”

  “What, “twinsies?”” she goads me.

  “Shut. Up,” I demand, pulling her into my arms. Her voice catches and she does just that. Wide blue eyes stare at me; Savi probably realizing the same thing that I do in this very moment.

  We fit.

  As we dance to that boy band singing about how much time God spent on their love interest, I take the time to really absorb Savannah’s beauty. She is breathtaking, but I don’t say it. Something tells me this is a delicate moment and anything I say can ruin it. Yet, I can’t help myself when I’m around her.

  “You look beautiful,” I whisper in praise, knowing that it’s an understatement. “And this wedding is nothing short of amazing. You are so fucking good at this.”

  “Thank you, Kyle,” she answers with a bright smile before nestling her head in the crook of my neck, as if the space was made for her.

  We sway slowly for a few minutes, no word spoken between us. I don’t know where she is in her head, but I know what I’m thinking.

  “I miss my best friend,” I blurt out, wishing I could take the words back.

  Her head lifts and she’s staring at me. Those forever blues render me dickless. I should just hand my balls over to her right now because, friend or more, she owns them. She owns me.

  I just wish I could muster up the courage to tell her that.

  This back and forth with the feelings is giving me whiplash. And that’s when it dawns on me…

  If this little trip back in her arms has been such a rollercoaster of emotions, I cannot imagine how she must have been feeling all these years. Jesus.

  “I miss you, Savi,” I repeat, feeling more honest than I have in months. “I don’t know who to talk to when I fuck up in school, or who to text when I want to ask English questions. I’m fucking lost without you.”

  She sighs and shakes her head. I don’t know if it is relief I see on her face or resignation, but she smiles then, and I don’t question whatever it is I see. Because when Savannah Carpenter smiles, the sun shines a little brighter and the weight feels a little lighter.

  “I miss you, too, Kyle.”

  We dance a little more and catch up, laughing, reminiscing, and it is anything but awkward. It is almost like we just picked up where we left off. The rest of the wedding is filled with laughter, more dancing and teary confessions of love.

  And that is just from the groom.

  At the end of the night, I lay in bed with my cell phone clutched close to my chest. My whole body seems to sigh in silent relief when I get a text…

  Crazy Hair: U still can’t dance 4 shit

  Unblocked and unbothered that she just made fun of my stellar dancing skills, I smile as I respond: That’s bcuz u suck as a dance partner.

  I’ve got my best friend back.

  And, apparently, the shits…

  Holy mother of God!

  Chapter Fourteen – Tongue Enough For Ten Rows o’ Teeth

  Kyle – Past

  January 2009

  THE HOLIDAYS PASSED and I got back into the groove, juggling school and baseball. Savi and I found our footing and had been texting each other again ever since her aunt’s wedding. It had started out slow and tentative at first, but we gradually got closer; to the point where there have been days I question if we had ever stopped being friends.

  There had been times when I worried we couldn’t get back to the friendship we had; that too much damage had been done, and too many feelings had been expressed – and repressed. I was afraid that I would not see beyond my feelings for her to ever truly be best friends again, but we fell right back into step after a few hiccups; like no time had passed at all.

  Crazy Hair: If u had 2 choose between me n a million dollars, what would u buy me 1st?

  I burst into laughter reading the random text from Savi. We text every day – about school, about baseball, about music, about nothing at all – and every day she makes me laugh out loud like this. I don’t know what I would do without her lightheartedness with the hectic schedule I keep.

  I’d probably buy u a unicorn, I text back, climbing the steps to my dorm room tiredly.

  Today was rough. Between weights, laps, and the pitcher’s screen, I am bone tired. We are drawing closer and closer to the start of the season, so practice has intensified. All I need now is a tub of ice and Savi. At the mention of my best friend and ice, my dick rustles to life, starved for her – or any action for that matter. He has only had my palm to keep him company lately. I have been focused on my studies and baseball since I’ve been here.

  It has been a trying few months. No pussy, no prospects – well, let me rephrase that…lots of prospects, but none the right one.

  Her response is swift, and I chuckle when I see it, knowing what she’s trying to do.

  Crazy Hair: Wrong!

  I give a quick head nod and say hi to a few of my hall mates as I tap out a text to her. Girls, scantily clad, making their walks of shame, send flirtatious looks my way, as if they weren’t just pumped full of cock and compunction. When I consider how easy it would be to get pussy, I start thinking that maybe it is time for me to broaden my horizons…

  But as I send my reply to Savannah, I know where my sights are set.

  Me: Deny it if u wanna Crazy Hair, but I know u.

  I’m chuckling to myself, waiting patiently for her reply; knowing she’s fuming and trying to come up with something snappy and filled with attitude like she is. My phone dings with a message, but something two doors from my room pulls my attention.

  Clad in boxers, a round ass is bent at the waist, fiddling with the lock on the door. The figure straightens and blonde hair falls down the person’s back. I make out round, perky breasts in a white tank top which tells me it’s a woman. It would have been super awkward had I been checking out a man; although tits and ass – a woman doth not make.

  Or whatever Shakespeare said.

  She huffs out a breath that goes straight to my dick and I wish I could chalk my reaction up to the fact that I haven’t had any action since I’ve been at Duchannes.

  But she is breathtaking.

  Obviously frustrated, she bangs her forehead on the door and groans, “Theo’s gon’ kill me.”

  Her softly spoken Southern accent has me mesmerized. Lured, I inch closer to her. My fingers tingle, eager to touch the exposed skin of her back. The smooth area has me wondering if the rest of her is just as smooth and untouched.

  A ding from my phone has her gasping and clutching her chest. “Sweet Jesus on a donkey!” she exclaims, and I would laugh at her phrasing if she didn’t look genuinely frightened.

  Holding my hands up in mock surrender, I say, “I come in peace.”

  “I’m a scaredy cat,” she answers with that sweet southern lilt. Damn, if words don’t sound sweeter coming from her mouth.

  I stare at her, taking her in, hopefully without coming off like a creep. She is a tiny thing with enough breasts to fill my palms. She is curvy, but not overly so and I can see my hands resting on and caressing each curve. Her creamy skin is begging for my touch and I se
e it reddening under my gaze. Pulling my eyes up to hers, I see pale green ones that I am sure were given to her by some witch who gets a kick out of beautiful, spritely women beguiling men.

  “Can ya help me?”

  I find myself at her side before I even know what the problem is.

  “I done locked myself outta this room. Theo left me in it, and I just tippy-toed to the lil’ girls’ room and di’n’t bring the key, an’ now I’m locked out,” she explains in a rush.

  I nod my head in understanding and resignation. She has a boyfriend.

  “Theo’s my cousin, see, an’ when he told me he was at Duchannes, I just had to come visit,” she rambles on as I smile inwardly. Yes…

  “I been here since last night,” she insists on rambling on, not realizing that plans are being set in motion. “He told me to stay hidden, but I had to use the bathroom since I drank so much last night, makin’ my bladder the size of a pea.”

  I listen to her go on and on, entranced. Her voice is like a melody, and I am eager to learn its tune and range. Especially that range. I want to see how high I can make that pitch go while I’m making her come.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus, I’m blabberin’ away like I got tongue enough for ten rows o’ teeth,” she mutters, smacking her forehead.

  She is adorable. Like someone I know…

  After toggling with the lock for a few minutes, it becomes apparent that I am getting nowhere and that I don’t have a future as a petty thief.

  “So, this is a bust,” I tell her somberly.

  “Aw, crap on a cracker,” she breathes out, smacking her forehead on the door once again.

  “Hey, you can stay in my room until Theo gets back. I’m sure he has a spare key,” I suggest.

  Her head flies up, swishing her hair behind her in a way that makes her look even sexier and sultrier than her standing there in tiny sleep shorts and a cami.

  “Oh, no…” She shakes her hands out defensively and starts backing away. “I know y’all college boys. I know your game. You invite me to your room ’n’ then bam! I’ll be on my back faster’n a hot knife through butter.”