GARRETT
Jennie’s been ignoring me all week.
Four days ago, I called after her in the lobby. When she saw me, she bolted. Literally ran, across the lobby, out the door, throwing herself in the backseat of the taxi waiting out front, fucky ankle and all.
Two days ago, I knocked on her door. Without opening it, she shouted back in—I think—a horrendous mix of Spanish and English, claiming to be someone named Gloria, because Jennie didn’t live there anymore. I said I knew it was her because I’d seen her get into the elevator. She was silent for an entire thirty seconds before replying, “Me no hablo English.”
I’m frustrated as fuck. Despite the mind-blowing orgasms, I’d thought there’d been a shift in our dynamic, like we were finally becoming friends. She’d stopped being so utterly terrifying to the point that I could speak full sentences to her. If that’s not friendship, I don’t know what is.
Plus, we left on good terms—I kissed her good night—so why is she avoiding me? She’s normally good at talking and yelling and all that; I’m the one who can’t string words together.
Should we repeat the orgasms? Probably not. Would I like to? Abso-fucking-lutely yes. But if she can’t look me in the eye, how will we ever be in the same room together?
We need to talk this thing out before it blows up in our faces.
The door next to me opens. I straighten off the wall as Jennie strolls out of her apartment, singing what I’m pretty sure is the soundtrack to Frozen.
She’s wearing skintight plum leggings, highlighting her out-of-this-world ass, a pair of those comfy, warm boots my sisters love, and a baggy hoodie. A toque dangles from the tips of her fingers, headphones slung around her wrist. Casual has never looked better than it does on her.
“Morning, sunshine. Your ankle looks better.”
I wonder if she’ll ever not shriek at me, but know today isn’t the day.
She leaps into the air, dropping her shit to the ground, screaming out a string of curses. “Mother…fucker.” She scoops up her stuff before whacking me in the shoulder. “Was that necessary?”
“Based on the way you’ve been ignoring me for the last week? Absolutely.”
“I’ve been…” She looks around for the rest of her sentence. “Busy.”
Shit, she’s as bad at lying as I am.
“Thought you moved out. What happened to Gloria?”
She folds her guilty smile into her mouth. “Oh, she…just a…friend…sleepover…girl’s night.” She waves a flappy hand through the air. “Pillow fights in our panties and all that.”
“Uh-huh. Listen.” I take a step forward and she plasters herself against the door, terrified. I’m pretty sure I’m the least terrifying person ever, based on the amount of blushing and stuttering like a jackass that occurs when she’s around. But I stop anyway, because we aren’t in the bedroom, which happens to be the only place I like being a little terrifying. “We should talk about what happened last weekend.”
“What happened?” Her voice rockets up an entire octave. “Nothing happened. Did you happen?” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Fuck.”
I like this messy side to her. It makes me feel like I get under her skin as much as she does mine. Makes it less of a lonely place to be.
Maybe that’s why I take another step toward her, then another, until she’s staring up at me with those wide eyes that give way to the innocence I think hides under all her bold.
“C’mon, sunshine. You can’t possibly think I’ve forgotten. The way my name sounded leaving your lips on repeat is burned into my mind, just like the way your mouth opened when you came around my fingers, and again on my tongue.” I trail a finger over her hip before slipping my hand below her hoodie, wrapping my palm around her bare waist. “Would you like a reminder?”
I don’t have a clue what I’m doing right now. And Jennie is, without a doubt, the last person I should be doing it with. I guess I’ve decided—in this moment, anyway—I have no fucks left to give. Not based on the way I drop my lips, letting them hover above her mouth as the tip of my nose skims hers.
Jennie clings to me, chin lifting, plush pink lips reaching for mine. They part on a jagged inhale, cheeks flush under the intensity of my stare, the words I shouldn’t have said.
And then she comes back down to earth, shaking her head and essentially bodychecking me across the hall. She twists back to her door and jams her key in the lock.
Okay, she doesn’t, but she sure tries. She misses, like, twenty times, repeatedly stabbing the door, marking up the white paint.
“I’d love to chat, but I gotta go! Gotta take a shower.” She forces out a laugh that’s teetering on the edge of unhinged. “I stink.”
My eyes go to her hair, piled on top of her head and— “Your hair is wet.”
Never mind that she was leaving her apartment, not coming home. Also, she smells super fresh, with hints of vanilla, cinnamon, and something sweet, like she spent the morning baking Christmas cookies.
I’d like to eat her cookie.
No. No, Garrett. That’s what got us into this whole mess in the first place.
Jennie’s dimples disappear when she realizes she’s been caught in another lie, and she finally gets that damn key in the lock. The door springs open, and she tumbles through it.
“Greasy. Super greasy. My hair. Yeah, I haven’t showered in…days.” Her nose scrunches with disgust at her lie. “So it looks wet, but it’s just…” She circles a hand around her damp bun and sighs, resigned. “Greasy.”
“Jen—”
“Okay-bye-Garrett!” The words fly past her lips with the same speed she slams the door, and the sound of chuckling draws my attention over my shoulder.
Emily leans in her doorway, arms crossed as she grins at me. “Knew it.”
I scrub a hand over my eyes. I’m so fucking tired, and I don’t know what to do with my life anymore. “Knew what?”
“That you two were gonna fuck. You can smell the s*xual tension from here.”
“We didn’t—ugh.” I rub the back of my neck. “She seems tense?”
“So tense. Girl wants your dick and hates that she does.” I chuckle and Emily smiles. This should be weird, but it isn’t. In the years I’ve known Emily, she’s had plenty of boyfriends and girlfriends in between our casual hookups.
I’m not worried that Emily caught…whatever the fuck that was. Maybe nothing. Probably nothing.
Or maybe something. Jennie’s impossible to read.
Except last weekend when I ate her pussy like the Last Supper. Pretty hard to misread the signals when she’s yanking on my hair, grinding her pussy against my mouth, and moaning my name as she comes. Twice.
“Things with Jennie are a little…”
“Challenging, best friend’s little sister, and all? Those are some serious balls, Andersen!” Emily knocks my shoulder. “Proud of you.”
I slip my fingers up the back of my toque and scratch my scalp to distract from the fact that I’m feeling a stupid amount of guilt. I let my blue balls do the talking, and now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life trying to hide it from one of my best friends.
“It was only the once. Won’t happen again.”
The truth is more disappointing than it reasonably should be.
Because as it turns out, offering to take care of Jennie’s needs might’ve been, like, the teensiest bit of a mistake, and a highly addicting one too.
On the plus side, her sprained ankle seems to be healing well. Girl can bolt faster than Usain.
Adam has a breakfast date tomorrow, and now I’m fucked. “You’re not fucked,” he says for the third time. I
might’ve accidentally said the words out loud when he told us the news two minutes ago. “It’s one date. It might not work out.”
How does something not work out with a guy like Adam? He’s the very best person I know, which is exactly why I’m fucked. He’ll settle down, and then I’ll really be lonely.
“I’m gonna be the only single friend,” I mumble absently. “Jaxon’s single,” Carter tosses out. “You guys can pick
up chicks together.”
“I don’t wanna—I hate—ugh.” Cheek on my fist, I glance at my lunch menu, then Adam. “Where’d you meet her?”
“At the grocery store. Cereal aisle. She said she likes dogs. That’s good, right?”
“Considering you have a dog, that’s probably for the best.”
Adam swirls the straw in his chocolate milk. “I haven’t been on a date in forever.”
Emmett looks up from his phone. “Cara wants to know if we can run a background check on her and also if she can dress you for your date.”
I tune out the conversation as I consider my future, what I want it to look like. My friends are trading nights at the bar for phone calls in the hotel room with their wives, and hangovers for early morning trips to Ikea, spending all their free time together, nothing but brightness looming in their futures.
I’m not bitter; I’m envious. There’s only so much COD a guy can play alone on his couch while his friends are doing coupley shit together, like how Cara extended the sympathy invite to Adam and me to cut down Christmas trees with her, Emmett, Carter, and Olivia. They’re moving forward, and I think I’m…stuck.
Emmett pulls my attention, poking me. “Hey, what about that girl? She’s staring at you. Ask her out.”
The pretty brunette approaches, and I roll my eyes. Gaze locked on the back of Carter’s head, she tucks her hair behind her ears and takes a deep breath before tapping him on the shoulder.
“Excuse me. I’m Arianna.”
Carter doesn’t look up from his menu. “I’m married.” I lift my own menu to hide my snort.
Arianna opens her mouth, and Carter cuts her off before she can use it.
“Happily.” He looks up with a grin and shows her Olivia’s smiling face on his phone screen. “Isn’t she
beautiful?” He flips through his photos. “Here she is on our wedding day. Fucking gorgeous, right? And here’s the baby she’s growing right now. That’s my baby. What do you think? Girl or boy? We’re not finding out. We want to be surprised. I’m trying to convince myself I see a penis, though, ’cause girls are scary.”
Huh. Arianna might be faster than Jennie. She’s back on the other side of the diner before I can blink.
“That’s exactly why it’s hard to meet someone, though,” I point out, and Adam nods. “I have no idea when someone is genuinely interested in me, or the rich hockey player.”
“What about your neighbor?” Carter asks. “You guys still fucking?”
“Nah, nothing’s going on. She lives across the hall from your sister.” Wishing I’d left off that last bit, I bury my warming face in my menu. I’m shit at lying, even worse at hiding things. If Carter prods even a bit, there’s a good chance I’ll accidentally shout that I tongue-fucked his sister. “You said Jennie was uncomfortable with the neighbor stuff, so I figured since we’re, like, friends by association, I wouldn’t do it anymore.”
Cautiously, I lift my gaze. Then I deflate. Carter’s not even looking at me. He’s blowing bubbles in his fucking chocolate milk.
“Jennie can be a bit scary sometimes, but she said she had a good time watching the game with you.”
My mouth falls open and my brows skyrocket before I demand my brain lower them back down to their home. I chug my drink to hide that I’m barely hanging on right now. “She did?”
“Yeah, said you ate good. Something about the dessert you brought being, and I quote, orgasmic.” He rolls his eyes. “She’s so dramatic.”
“Wonder where she gets that from,” Emmett mutters. At least I think that’s what he says.
I’m too busy choking on the chocolate milk that’s gone sliding down the wrong tube.
Carter rambles on about a good meal being the only thing Becketts need to keep them happy, and while I’m gasping for air, my entire life flashes before my eyes, especially at the hard, suspicious gaze Adam watches me with.
If it’s my time to go, at least the dessert was orgasmic.
Lunchtime games on Saturdays are my favorite. I get my workout in extra early, hockey’s done before dinner, and we get a rare Saturday night off.
Emmett keeps labeling Cara’s twenty-sixth birthday party tonight as lowkey, but I’m not sure that word belongs in any sentence with Cara. I doubt there will be girls dancing on her kitchen counters like last year at the bar, so I guess that’s lowkey.
“How was your date this morning, bud?” I ask Adam as I drop to my knees beside him, spreading my thighs and stretching my groin. My morning skate went well, and getting back on the ice feels exceptionally good. Coach has me on limited ice time tonight to ease back in, but at least I’m playing. I’ve been wound tight from nine days without hockey, among other things. The arena is buzzing, the chill from the ice feels refreshing on my cheeks, and I’m not gonna look at Jennie the entire game. Nothing can go wrong.
Adam sighs. “She definitely doesn’t like dogs.” “But she told you she did.”
“Well, I kinda wanted out at the end of breakfast.” He chuckles at my expression. “So I told her I had to head home to walk Bear before the game. She insisted on coming.”
“Dude. You’re too nice.”
“I didn’t have the heart to tell her no! She was pouting up at me, with these big fucking eyes…” He sighs as we climb back to our feet. “Bear jumped up to say hello before I could stop him. Licked her face. She, uh…lost her shit, to put it nicely. About the slobber, the hair…”
“Aw, c’mon.” Bear’s next level on the cute scale, a giant, furry suck. “She’s out, right?”
“If she hadn’t already been, she definitely would’ve been when she asked if he’d be around much longer.”
“Speaking of dates.” A spray of snow slashes my face and covers my visor as Jaxon Riley, our new defenseman, stops in front of me. He spares me an absent glance. “Andersen.”
“Riley.”
He’s already on my shitlist. To be honest, he’s been there for years. He’s an arrogant prick who shoots his mouth off nonstop. It gets him into a lot of trouble, hence why he’s been traded here from Nashville after his second suspension of the season. Coach thinks he can straighten him out and get the most out of him. We’ll see.
“Speaking of dates,” he repeats. “Who’s the rocket?”
I follow his gaze into the stands and reply on autopilot. “Cara and Olivia.”
“I know who they are. I’m talking about the one with the dimples and the killer rack.”
Yeah, I was hoping that wasn’t the case.
My eyes sweep over Jennie, sandwiched between Cara and Olivia. Between the three of them, they appear to have bought the entire snack bar.
Jennie looks alarmingly pretty today. Hair down instead of in one of her signature braids, her thick chestnut tresses roll in waves around her shoulders, highlighting her broad smile and deep dimples when she laughs. She’s also wearing a skintight tee that, as Jaxon mentioned,
showcases her stellar rack. I bite my tongue to keep from bragging that I’ve tasted them.
Looking away, I nab a puck, spin around the net and stuff it behind Adam. “She’s off-limits.”
“Yours?”
“No.”
“Then I guess she’s not off-limits.” His grin is self- assured, and I can’t wait to wipe it off.
I smile back at him, extra megawatt. “Hey, Carter?” I call as he zooms by us, using his stick as a guitar. “What’s Jennie’s relationship status? Asking for a friend.”
“Nobody touches my baby sister.” It’s half scream, half song, and Jaxon’s face falls. “Oh hey.” Carter follows me to the bench and leans on his stick, popping a pink bubble in his mouth. “Speaking of Jennie. Can you ride home with her tonight? I don’t like the idea of her taking an Uber late at night by herself.”
My first thought is the backseat of a car late at night is the last place I should ever be with Jennie. My second is she’s a grown woman who’d likely lose her shit if she knew Carter was organizing supervised rides home for her. My third thought is—oh fuck.
“Your sister’s coming to the party tonight?” Carter nods, and my pulse thunders.
“Why is Jennie coming?” I accidentally ask out loud as Emmett joins us.
He gestures to where the girls are cackling on about something. My eyes lock with Jennie’s before I immediately tear them away. “’Cause she’s one of Cara’s best friends?”
“Since when?” I stupidly demand rather than just saying, Sure, I’ll ride home with her.
“Uh, since Olivia and Carter started dating, and now the three of them spend all their time together?”
“Oh. Right.” Fuck. I look to Carter and start waving one floppy, gloved hand through the air. I might as well be holding a neon sign that reads I ate your sister’s pussy and
liked it. “Um, I think I’m gonna…drive.” I wasn’t going to, but if Jennie’s gonna be there, I absolutely need to stay sober. I can’t have alcohol impeding any of my decision- making capabilities—which are already flawed and weak— because I’ll try to talk myself into a place I want to be but shouldn’t, like between her thighs while I locate her G-spot with the tip of my tongue, or my cock. Plus, Jennie doesn’t drink, and being supportive of that feels like the right move in our fucked-up friendship.
“Perfect. You can take her home.” Carter cups his gloved hands around his mouth. “Hey, Jennie! Garrett’s gonna give you a ride tonight!”
Give her a ride? That’s exactly what I want to do and what I’m actively trying to avoid. Instead, I attempt to swallow down my entire Adam’s apple as I meet Jennie’s gaze.
At least she looks as terrified as I am about what type of ride I might take her for.
I wonder which one of us has better self-control.
