Текст книги "Screwed"

Автор книги: Kendall Ryan

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As I pump my fist over the sensitive head of my cock, a strangled moan crawls up my throat and I come hard, sending semen jetting onto the tile below. As the water washes away the evidence of my lack of self-control, I take a deep gulp of air. Jacking off to thoughts of my friend isn’t normal. I need to lock this shit down. Right the fuck now. But as I towel off, I decide that if this is what I need to do to remain in control around her, so be it.

After my release, I feel a bit more disciplined, my head clearer, and I’m thankful for that. I put on a pair of sweatpants, and then head to the kitchen to grab my phone.

Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I send a text to Emery, inviting her to join me at my nephew’s soccer game tomorrow. I figure there’s no way I can bend her succulent ass over and fuck her in front of twenty four-year-olds. It’s safe, and I need to stick to safe activities. Ones where my cock won’t get me into trouble.

Because this friends-only thing? It fucking sucks.

Chapter Ten

Emery

 

I pull into one of the few spots left in the city park’s lot. Today has turned out lovely—all sapphire sky, golden sun, and best of all, a low-smog alert—and it seems like all of Los Angeles has come out to enjoy it.

Walking to the soccer field, I look around until I see Hayden waving from the bleachers. There’s a cute couple with him that must be his sister and her husband. What are their names again? I try to remember. Hayden mentioned them in his text. Beth and . . . Daniel? No, David.

Beth is sitting on the bottom row of steps with a princess no older than three conked out on her lap. It’s amazing what little kids can sleep through; despite all the children shrieking and adults laughing around her, this girl is out cold. I can see the family resemblance to both her mother and to Hayden—the same dark hair, the same high forehead, the same straight nose.

A slightly older boy clings to David, his free hand gripping a box of apple juice. His messy nut-brown hair makes him look more like his father. He looks up at me with huge blue-gray eyes. When I smile and wave back at him, he grins and hides his face in his father’s pant leg.

David chuckles and pats his son on the head. “He likes you.”

“Careful, Hayden,” Beth says with a smirk. “You’ve got competition.” She reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a warm shake.

Hayden’s eyes swing over to mine, and a warm shiver runs along my body. “You came.”

I nod. “Of course I did. It’s beautiful out today.”

He and Beth both look up at the sky, trying to figure out what I mean. It’s LA—every day is pretty much the same. I guess this Midwest girl isn’t used to that yet.

Noticing that his nephew is still hiding his face in David’s leg, Hayden squats down to the boy’s level. “Hey there, Austin. How’s my buddy? I invited my friend Emery to watch you play today.” The boy grunts and buries his face even more. “You want a high-five?” Hayden says, holding up his hand.

Giggling, Austin bats at it with his juice box, squirting sticky sugar water all over his uncle’s hand.

Hayden’s air of cheerful calm doesn’t diminish. “You excited to play today?”

Austin finally speaks up. “Yeah. I’m gonna soccer.”

“He cried on the way here,” Beth interjects. “He wanted to wear his dinosaur shirt, but we put him in his league uniform, so . . . you can guess.”

A stout man in a baseball cap walks onto the turf and blows his whistle. The chaos of parents and kids all around us spikes to a crescendo.

“Looks like it’s time to get on the field.” David bends down to take Austin’s hand. “Ready to go see your friends?”

“No,” Austin says.

“Come on, little dude. Don’t you want to—”

Austin screams so loudly and so suddenly that I jump. His sister squirms in Beth’s arms, still half-asleep.

David sighs. “Hayden, can you take him somewhere quiet? I have to get his bag from the car.”

“No problem.” Hayden scoops up the flailing Austin and walks off toward a nearby stand of trees.

When both men have left, Beth turns to me. “Sorry about that,” she says, stroking her daughter’s raven hair to soothe her. “I think he’s just overstimulated. He loves soccer, but sometimes all the people and noise and activity . . .” She makes a bzzt noise. “Blows a fuse.”

I shake my head with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Life is tough when you’re a kid.”

“Heh . . . tell me about it. Hayden’s great with him, though. Which is a huge help. David and I didn’t get much sleep last night. Georgia kept waking up all night with some weird dream. Too much candy before bed.” Beth dips her head to indicate her daughter, who is already comatose on her lap again. Then she hesitates. “When Hayden mentioned he’d be bringing a girl . . . I gotta say, I didn’t expect you.”

Now she has my attention. Any chance I can get to dig up some dirt on Hayden, I’m game. Especially because I want a point of reference that isn’t Roxy’s. I sit down next to Beth on the bleachers. “What do you mean?”

“Hayden doesn’t usually hang around . . . you know. The kind of women you bring to meet your family.”

Two uncomfortable ideas hit me at once. One of them is: Meeting his family? Is that what this is all about? Am I being evaluated? And the other: Was Roxy right after all? Hayden doesn’t date girls long enough to introduce them to anyone. He doesn’t bother with “nice girls” at all; he aims for the women he can pump and dump. So how long is he going to bother with me, in my frumpy T-shirt and worn tennis shoes and a streak of white sunscreen on my nose?

Beth’s casual comment has unleashed fears I didn’t even know I had. I make a mental note to mend fences with Roxy; she was only trying to look out for me after all.

I’m suddenly aware that I’ve been silent for too long. I lick my dry lips nervously, trying to figure out how to respond to Beth. “Well,” I finally say, “I mean, we’re just friends. I’m not . . .” Not interested, I swear. “I don’t need to be his type.”

“Oh,” Beth says, drawing out the sound into a long note of realization. “I’m sorry. I just assumed you were his date.”

Do I want to be his date? Am I that lonely and horny? What am I even doing here?

Beth interrupts my torrent of thoughts by pointing at the field. “Looks like things are under control now.”

There are almost two dozen little kids scattered over the turf, dressed in either red or blue. Evidently toddler soccer is more popular around here than I would have guessed. I note with relief that Austin is among them.

David and Hayden come back to the bleachers and we settle in to watch the game. But as much as I try to concentrate, I’m too aware of Hayden’s warm, solid body pressed up against my shoulder and thigh. And Beth’s comments about him never bringing nice normal girls around buzz through my head.

• • •

The game ends in a one-to-one tie. The players did more shouting, giggling, and rolling on the grass than actual soccer, and the referee called several time-outs for temper tantrums or crying over scraped knees. But the kids seem like they had a good time, which is the whole point of sports anyway. And watching them run around in circles chasing the ball was adorable.

As soon as David suggests going to a local pizzeria to celebrate, Georgia snaps awake. She insistently repeats peese-a, peese-a all the way across the parking lot until we separate into our own cars. And now I’m sitting with Hayden’s extended family again, crammed into a plastic booth in a loud, colorful restaurant.

His younger sister, Gracie, who’s closer to my age, arrives and slips into the booth next to Hayden. Her eyes land on me, and when Beth introduces me as Hayden’s new friend, Gracie’s eyes go as wide as the plates on our table.

“Oh. Um . . . hi?” she says, offering me her hand across the table.

It’s like I’m the main attraction at a freak show. I take her hand and shake it. “Hello.”

I have no idea what to say next. Gracie is gorgeous. Where Beth is put together in a no-nonsense way, with her bobbed haircut and friendly eyes, Gracie exudes an air of feminine beauty and innocence. Wide-set blue eyes and tousled wavy hair that’s chestnut-colored, but with flecks of gold where it catches the light. Her high cheekbones and pouty lips make me envious. Having nothing else to say, I glance back over to Hayden.

I’m watching him bounce his tiny niece on his knee and feed her bites of cheesy bread. And I’m still wondering what the hell I’m doing here. What this all means; what I should do next.

I’m confused all over again, and I have no idea how to feel. Hayden is so sweet with his nephew and niece, so playfully combative with his sisters, so chummy with his brother-in-law—he’s clearly capable of love and affection. So why is he so closed off when it comes to women?

He still hasn’t opened up about his past, no matter how much I prod and poke. Did something specific sour him on romantic relationships? Is he distrustful because he’s scared? What happened to make him this way?

I want to corner Beth and ask her, but something tells me she may be more forthcoming with information if I can get her away from all these distractions—and pump her full of sangria. I make a mental note.

Georgia is an absolute mess, with sauce smeared all over her face and the front of her frilly dress. Hayden is laughing and tickling her. Beth and David are fussing over Austin. Gracie sits quietly, taking it all in with a fond smile.

Watching them, despite my confusion, I can’t help but feel content. Strangely soothed. They’re a picture-perfect family. And Hayden’s grin—unrestrained, dimples showing, blue eyes crinkled almost shut as he laughs—is nothing short of beautiful.

I remember the way he touched my face after dinner on Saturday. I felt an unmistakable spark of warmth and wanted to lean into his hand, wanted him to . . .

But none of that should ever happen. It’s best that nothing did happen that night. Even if we both feel funny in our pants for each other, sex just isn’t a good idea. We won’t work in the long run. Period.

So then . . . what do we do? Continue this friendship that nobody seems to think Hayden is capable of? In the end I just eat my mushroom pizza, drink my soda, and let myself soak in the warm, comfortable atmosphere. And if I admire Hayden more than I should, I don’t think too hard about it. Because there’s nothing to think about.

Hayden and I arrive back home at the same time. We walk together through the front entrance and upstairs to my door. “Thanks for coming,” he says as I unlock it. “It was nice to have another grown-up in the mix.”

I turn to him, my keys still dangling from the lock. I want to ask why he invited me today. I want to ask why he ever started talking to me in the first place. But all I say is, “Sure . . . thanks for inviting me. I had fun.”

He opens his arms slightly. “Hug good-bye?” His crooked smile says that if I don’t accept, he’ll pass it off as a joke. Something he never really meant in the first place.

I hesitate for a second, then step into his embrace. He is so warm, so solid and real, and it’s been such a long time since I’ve been touched. I inhale his cologne, that same smoky spice that riveted me the first moment we met. My cheek rests against his neck where smoothness meets stubble, and I can feel his pulse fluttering. I can feel the angled, muscular body under his casual clothes. And one very particular angle pressing into my stomach . . .

I pull back my head just far enough to look into his stunning eyes. “Stunning” is exactly the right word—they paralyze me, pin me, make me helpless. Our mouths are less than an inch apart, and I realize that my heart is hammering. Just as fast as his.

Desire and fear make me brave . . . or maybe just stupid. “What are we doing?” I ask him, not meaning for it to sound like a plea.

“Being friends,” he replies. His breath puffs over my lips, and I almost shiver. “Why do you ask?”

“Because friends don’t usually get erections for each other, do they?” I retort without any real force, bumping my hip into the large ridge in his shorts. Friends also don’t get soaking-wet panties, for that matter.

Hayden glances down and away, looking something close to frustrated. “I just . . . haven’t gotten any action in a while. Ignore me. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He’s probably just saying that to defuse an awkward situation. But it still kind of stings to hear “it doesn’t mean anything” about a boner that I assumed was for me. I hoped was for me.

I nod, stepping away long after I should have. “If you say so.”

“You want to do something next Saturday? Maybe get dinner again?” he asks casually, as if everything were totally normal and not a big confusing horny mess. Fuck, I mean these panties are literally destroyed. From one hug.

“Um . . . sure.” Why the hell not. For no real reason, I nod again. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

He smiles and raises his hand in a half wave. “Good night, Emery.”

I watch him walk down the hall and disappear up the stairs, and then I finally go inside. As I get ready for bed, my mind keeps spinning on and on about Hayden. I replay and dissect every word I’ve heard today while I shower, brush my teeth, and change into pajamas.

He said he hasn’t gotten any action lately. But why not? Why isn’t he sleeping around like he usually does? Maybe he just said that to brush me off. But it suddenly occurs to me that he never seems to be unavailable. Whenever I text him, he always replies within an hour, and he’s free practically anytime I want to hang out. Is he spending all his spare moments with me? Is that why he isn’t getting laid?

I don’t know what this means. I don’t even know how I feel about it. I bury my face in the pillow, ready to give up and go to sleep.

Just as I start to drift off, my phone rings. Groaning, I roll over and grab it. “Hello?”

“Hi, sweet pea,” Mom cries out, her voice cheerfully loud. I can hear rumbling engines and crunching gravel in the background; she must be at the truck depot. “How are you?”

I prop myself up on my elbow and squint at the alarm clock. “Uh . . . I’m fine. What’s up?”

“I know this is short notice, and I’m sure you’re busy with work, but I got a last-minute delivery to Pasadena. Some kind of electronics parts, I don’t have the manifest in front of me. Anyway, I’ll be in your neck of the woods on Saturday, so I’d love to get lunch if you have time.”

“That sounds great, Mom. I’ll take a half day on Saturday and come out to see you.”

“Oh, how wonderful.” I can practically see her beaming. “You have to tell me everything you’ve been up to. I’m so proud of my smart girl.”

As soon as I arrange to meet her at a Pasadena diner and hang up, I remember that I told Hayden we’d hang out next weekend. “Shit,” I grumble aloud. I grab my phone again and tap out a quick text.

Emery : Can we do Sunday instead of Saturday? My mom’s coming and she’s only in town for a couple days.

Two minutes later, my phone chimes with a reply.

Hayden : That’s cool. Let me know if you need any ideas for what to do while she’s in town.

Emery : Hmm. Not sure. She’ll be in Pasadena.

Hayden : I can give you a ride. I should visit Pasadena anyway and meet the building manager about rent . . . Caltech grad students are poor as fuck.

I pause to consider his offer, my thumb hovering over the keypad. On the one hand, I don’t want anything to interrupt my time with Mom. It would suck if we had to cut our lunch short because Hayden needed to get back to Los Angeles. On the other, I could avoid dealing with the utter hell that is Southern California traffic. Let Hayden raise his blood pressure for me.

As I’m thinking, I get another text.

 

Hayden : It’d be fun to meet your mom, she must be amazing lady if she made you. ;) You saw my awkward family today, I should get to see yours.

That’s an unexpectedly good point. It still feels a little weird for us to be meeting each other’s relatives all of a sudden, but if I introduce Mom and Hayden, maybe I could ask her for a second opinion. Or maybe it’s a fourth opinion by this point, after all the people who’ve warned me about him.

Before I can change my mind, I send a reply.

 

Emery : I guess that’s only fair. Pick me up at work on Saturday at 11 AM?

I wait for his confirmation—a simple OK—before I turn off my phone and finally sleep.

• • •

When we walk into the diner on Saturday, Mom is already sitting in a booth with a huge hamburger in front of her. “Over here,” she calls with a wave. “I’m starved, so I went ahead and ordered.”

Hayden looks slightly startled. He probably expected this little old lady with thick bifocals and thinning gray hair—but the plaid flannel shirt and the hat proudly emblazoned with Mother Trucker in tall red letters, not so much. To his credit, he only pauses for a moment before replying, “We don’t mind. I’m only staying for a cup of coffee anyway.”

We sit down facing her. Hayden orders his coffee and I get blueberry pancakes. Breakfast is just about the only meat-free thing on the menu here.

After the waitress leaves, I reach out to hold Mom’s hands. My heart twists a little; her wrists and knuckles seem even stiffer than when I left home. “You’ve got to stop running these long hauls, Mom. The doctor said that manual transmission is wrecking your joints. And what if you get a blood clot in your legs from sitting eleven hours a day?”

“Nonsense,” she huffs. “Best job I ever had. Fifty-five grand a year, I decide my own schedule, and I get to see the country. You think waiting tables again would be easier on my knees? And my hands and shoulders are too shot to go back to factory jobs.”

“But you don’t need to work so hard anymore. You can stick to local deliveries. I’m done with school, and I’m making my own loan payments and living off my own savings. In a few years, I’ll start earning enough that you can retire.”

“I’m not here to talk about me, sweet pea. Or about money. I want to hear what’s new with you.” She cocks her head with a sly smile. “And who’s your friend?”

“I’m Hayden,” he says, standing up awkwardly in the booth and extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Winters.”

Mom shakes his hand and he blinks; another thing he clearly didn’t expect is her patented death grip. “Call me Val. You work at Emery’s firm?”

For the next twenty minutes, Mom peppers Hayden with questions about how we met, what he does for a living, where he went to school. He answers everything with as much grace as an interrogated prisoner can muster.

I give up even trying to steer the conversation. Mom has always thrown herself full force into everything—she’s known for her fierce affection, fierce anger, fierce joy—and it’s impossible to stop her once she’s made a decision.

Eventually Hayden finishes his coffee, leaves a fifty-dollar bill on the table to cover all three of our checks, and gets the hell out of there before I can protest his generosity. As soon as the door clangs shut behind him, Mom fixes me with a keen stare over her wire frames. “Don’t fall in love with that boy.”

I splutter out my mouthful of iced tea. “W-what?”

“You heard me,” Mom says calmly. “I’m crazy, not stupid. I see the way you look at him. I understand . . . he’s handsome as all get-out, and he seems pretty smart too. But he isn’t the type to settle down. Don’t put stock into what’ll never be.”

A strange heaviness settles in the pit of my stomach. When I came here, I thought that Mom’s advice would quiet my restless thoughts and give me direction. Then why don’t I feel any better? Actually, I might even feel worse. I busy myself wiping up my spilled tea, chewing the inside of my lip.

“I know what he’s like, Mom,” I finally say. “Don’t worry . . . we’re just friends.”

She nods a few times. “Good girl. I didn’t raise no fool.”

“No, Mom. You sure didn’t,” I say to reassure her, wondering if I’m lying.

Chapter Eleven

Hayden

 

“What the hell are these?” Dottie’s shrill voice calls as she comes out of my bedroom with a purple G-string dangling from her little finger.

I shrug. “No idea.”

Her face twists in disgust. “They were under your bed. What do you mean you have no idea?”

Her tone is accusatory, but I really have no clue. I haven’t had a woman here in weeks, and just with that thought alone, my cock aches in a silent plea for relief. I realize I haven’t gotten any since Emery moved in. That strikes me as odd, and I have no explanation for it. Realizing that Dottie is still talking to me, I blink away the thoughts.

She gives me a reproving look. “Nice girls don’t wear the kind of panties I find in your bed. Crotchless G-strings are for strippers and bad girls. I want you to settle down with a good girl, Hayden,” she says, tossing the panties into the garbage like they’re diseased.

“I know you do, Dottie, and I appreciate that.”

Dottie comes three times a week to clean up, do laundry, cook, pick up my dry cleaning, and run errands. She’s sixty, but with more energy than the Energizer Bunny. She keeps my life running smoothly. I don’t want to do anything to piss her off, so I usually nod and smile at whatever piece of wisdom she’s offering up. But today, I’m stuck trying to figure out who those undies can possibly belong to.

I cross the room to where Dottie is wiping down the countertop. “I’ve got to run. Don’t stay too late.” I press a kiss to her cheek. She’s like a second mother to me, and even if I do write her paycheck, her concern and care for me always feel genuine.

She shoos me away. “I’ll stay until I’m happy that everything’s done. Have fun.”

I nod, grabbing my keys. I’m meeting Hudson for some beers. It’s been too long since we’ve hung out just as friends, without the worry of work hanging between us.

I head to The Avenue, a bar that’s become a regular meet-up spot for us. It’s on the edge of downtown about halfway between where he and I live, and it has an upscale feel without being swanky. The drinks are always cold, and the food is good too. When I pull into the parking lot, I spot his luxury SUV right away. Strolling inside, I find the coolness of the air-conditioning is welcome against my skin.

He’s sitting at the bar with a bottle of beer already in his hand and another waiting for me in front of the stool next to him. God bless America.

“Hey, buddy, how’ve you been?” I say, sliding onto the bar stool next to him.

He raises his bottle and clinks it to mine. “Life’s been pretty damn good lately. I haven’t had any angry tenants to deal with.”

I smirk at him. “I’m following through. You didn’t doubt me, did you?”

His eyebrows jump up. “Fuck yeah, I did. Especially when you started hanging out with the hot-as-fuck new girl.”

“Emery,” I remind him. “And we’re still hanging out.”

“No shit? As friends, huh?”

I nod, taking a sip of my beer and feeling oddly proud. “We’ve been out to eat, and worked out a couple times together.” He doesn’t need to know it was yoga. That would just be weird.

“I’m impressed, dude. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Yup. Strictly platonic.”

Except last weekend when I hugged her good-bye and got a huge erection that was impossible to hide. Emery even called me out—asking me to explain myself. I lied and said it was nothing, and I swear the flash of disappointment across her face almost killed me. I wanted to tell her right then and there how insanely attracted to her I was, how beautiful she looked that day in her casual clothes, hanging out with my family.

“So where have you been getting your good time?” Hudson looks genuinely confused.

“I’m on a bit of a dry spell,” I admit. “You’ve thrown off my game.” I jab him in the ribs before taking another swig of my beer to try to forget all about that encounter with Emery.

He shakes his head at me. “Don’t blame this on me. Maybe you have real feelings for this one. That could be a good thing. Get you back up on the horse, so to speak.”

“No, it’s not like that between us. Emery’s sworn off men, and you know I’m sure as shit not looking for a relationship.”

“Yes, but I’m saying maybe it’s time to move on. Grow up a little.” His gaze abandons the TV and swings over to mine. “Have you ever been really into a chick? You know, the big L-word?”

“Are you trying to ask me if I’ve ever been in love with a woman before?”

He nods. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Sure,” I say.

Hudson levels me with that dark, intense stare of his.

“What?” My tone is both playful and defensive. This really isn’t something I want to discuss. I’d rather be talking about work, anything other than the state of my love life.

“I’m not buying it, Oliver. You’re so damn closed off from anything real, it’s not even funny. After Naomi—”

I shut him up with a wave of my hand. “Forget Naomi. I was close to a girl once. She let out a loud, thunderous fart in her sleep, and that was it. I ended things after that.”

“You broke up with a girl for farting?”

“Indeed,” I confirm.

“That wasn’t love, then.”

“How do you know? Kelsey . . . or was it Kerrie? Anyway, she was sweet and funny, and she made a hell of a ham sandwich.”

Hudson shakes his head. “Because when you’re in love, and your woman feels comfortable enough to do that in front of you, you’ll think it’s cute.”

“I’ll think farting is cute? Not a chance in hell.” Women don’t shit, or fart, or belch as far as I’m concerned. And Hudson’s lost his damn mind.

“Trust me on this one.”

I don’t trust him any farther than I can throw him—and considering he clears six foot two and is solid muscle, it wouldn’t be very damn far.

“You been seeing anyone interesting lately?” I ask.

Hudson doesn’t sleep around with our tenants, like I used to enjoy before he abruptly put a stop to that, but he definitely gets his fair share of pussy. Not that I’m overly interested; I’m just eager to steer the conversation to his love life and away from mine.

“How’s your sister?” he asks out of the blue.

“Beth’s doing the supermom thing. Same old.”

“No, I meant Gracie.” His eyes dart away from mine, as if there’s something he doesn’t want me to see. I try not to read too much into it. Hudson would never betray me by going after my sister. Plus, he’s too busy fucking his way through the female population, one leggy blonde at a time. Which Gracie is most definitely not.

I shrug. “Gracie’s Gracie.” She’s always been my innocent little sister. It’s crazy to think she’s twenty-two now and just graduated from college.

Hudson nods once, effectively ending that weird conversation. Okay then.