Текст книги "Some Like It Wild"

Автор книги: M. Leighton

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

SIXTEEN: Jake

I’m tired, yes. And I could probably use a little rest, yes. But not right now, I’m more interested in the girl curled up at my side, sleeping naked in the grass. The one who just rolled enthusiastically from one orgasm to the next. The one who let me devour her in the bright light of day, out in the open. The one who let me come inside her, and seemed to enjoy the shit out of it.

Can this be the same girl I kissed at the fair all those years ago? The same girl who blushes if I stare at her too long? The same girl who never curses? The same girl who probably never even had more than that one sip of wine until I put a purple people eater in her hand? What a very perplexing, yet very welcome walking contradiction.

I knew she had a little fire to her. Probably buried deep down, something she was raised to squash or ignore. And I knew she was itching to take a little stroll on the wild side. Or maybe just at the edge of the wild side. But I didn’t expect this. I mean, damn! I want her again already. Right this second. My cock acts like it’s seven a.m. on a Saturday morning after a two-month dry spell.

I hope to all hell that she doesn’t get attached and ruin this for both of us, because I could stand to have a little more of this coming my way over the next few weeks.

I glance down at her body—at the arch of her neck, at the curve of her hip, at the perfect pink nipple that I can barely see, peeking out from under her arm where she’s lying on her side—and my mouth waters. And my dick gets harder.

I’m debating waking her up the right way when she sighs and tilts her head up to pin me with her soft blue eyes. Judging by her expression, I know she still feels that lazy, bone-deep relaxed feeling that only comes after having some really good sex. And this sex? Sweet hell! It was that and then some!

But then they freeze, as if she suddenly remembers what happened. I watch her eyes round into Os nearly as large as the one her mouth makes. I hold my breath, not knowing whether to expect her to get up and walk out of my life forever or give me the coldest shoulder this side of Alaska.

True to what I’ve seen of her this far, though, instead, she surprises me.

“Can we do that again?” Air rushes from my lungs and my chest relaxes as a wide smile settles across her lips.

“Which part?” I ask, unable to help myself.

The blue of her eyes sparkle like stars in a midnight sky. “All of it.”

I find my own lips curving. “Hell yeah!”

“But maybe backward this time,” she says, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip in that shy way that I love. “Kissing . . . and . . . stuff first; jumping off the rock second?”

“Oh, hell yeah!” I murmur again as I roll my body onto hers and suck one delicious nipple into my mouth.

And then we do it all again.

Only backward.

* * *

It’s long past dark by the time Laney and I drag our tired asses up the stairs to my bedroom. “How ’bout a nice long, hot bath to ease any . . . sore places you might have?” I ask this with a mischievous wink because I know there’s no way on God’s green earth she’s ever had an afternoon like the one we just spent. As many “encounters” as I’ve had in the course of my life, I’ve never even had a day like today. To say it was spectacular would be a disgrace to the word spectacular. Makes me think it’s been far too long since I’ve had really good sex.

Surely that’s what it is.

“I can barely wiggle. I’ll come along if you’ll do all the heavy lifting,” she says, winding her arms around my neck and smiling charmingly up into my face.

“Don’t you start thinking you can use that beautiful face and this amazing body of yours to manipulate me,” I warn.

“Please,” she says coyly, rubbing up against me like a cat.

“Done,” I say, grinning at her. She laughs when I sweep her off her feet and carry her to the bathroom.

I set her on the counter while I run the bath full of extremely warm water. When it’s over half full, I strip, set her on her feet and do the same for her before we climb in.

“Aaah!” she squeals when the hot water hits her skin. She starts to hop back out, but I grab her arm to still her.

“Just give it a second. It only stings at first, then it’ll do great things for your muscles. And . . . other things.”

I sit down and spread my legs, holding my arms out wide for her to join me. When she does, she hisses.

“I didn’t need to be on the pill, did I?”

“Huh?”

“There’s no way a single sperm could possibly survive this. And obviously you’ve done it before.”

“Once or twice.”

After a few seconds, her voice sounds less pained. “So, is this a fetish?”

“Is what a fetish?”

“Luring unsuspecting women to your home and then boiling them.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad, drama queen. Besides, isn’t it worth it to share a hot bath with all this?” I say, curling my fingers in toward myself and giving her my cheesiest, most arrogant smile.

Boldly, she peruses me, which is kind of a turn-on when she lingers on my cock, which is nestled against her hip. “We’ll see. What about you? What’s a hot bath with me worth to a guy like you?”

I reach forward and pull her around and into my arms, her back to my chest, leaving her entire front open to my roaming hands.

“After today? Quite a bit, actually.”

I nuzzle the side of her neck, the scratch of my stubble sending chills down her chest and tightening her nipple. I feel my body jump against her ass where she’s sitting between my legs.

“Re-ally?” she purrs, tilting her head to one side to give me better access to her neck.

“Mmm.”

“Then maybe we can talk a little.”

I feel the sigh swell in my chest, but I hold it in.

Not this again.

“What do you want to know?” I ask after a long pause.

Laney says nothing for several seconds. Instead, she grabs a bar of soap and rolls it between her palms, creating a nice thick lather. She lays the soap aside and starts to wash one arm. I watch her begin at her wrist and make slow circles all the way up her arm to her shoulder. The closer she gets to her chest, to the curve of her breast, the tighter my entire body gets, like a clock winding up.

She’s too innocent to know what she’s doing will drive me crazy. My guess is that it’s the easiest spot to wash first, as nearly everything else is submerged.

That or I’m not giving her nearly enough credit.

“What was it like, growing up on the orchard? What was your family like?”

It’s an innocuous enough question, one that doesn’t overtly stimulate any touchy areas. I don’t mind answering if it keeps her doing what she’s doing.

“Not much different than most childhoods, I’d say. At least not around here. I played outside most of the day, climbed trees in the orchard, sometimes helped pick peaches, skipped rocks at the wide place in the river down by the northern border.”

“What were your parents like?”

“Just like regular parents. We ate meals together. Played games together. Watched television together.”

I’m mesmerized as I watch her soap her chest, her hands inching her way toward her breasts. “And then Jenna came along,” she says, letting her fingers play over the smooth, round globes.

“Yep,” I say almost absently, my eyes glued to her hands.

When she uses her index finger to ring her nipples, my breath hitches in my throat. My balls throb with the sudden need to lift her up and plunge her down on my cock, to watch that perfect ass of hers move up and down as she rides me.

And then she kills off my hard-on with one question, with the one question she’s been sneaking up to.

“Why do you think your father didn’t love you? It sure sounds like he did.”

“Laney, I told you—”

She cuts me off by whirling around in the tub to face me, her hands splayed across my chest and her eyes pleading with me.

“Please, Jake. Please talk to me. I want so much to be okay with this, but it’s . . . it’s just . . . it’s hard. I need to know you. At least a little bit. Just tell me something about your life here. Tell me something. Just a little bit.”

I want to kiss her. And shake her. And walk away. And hold her close. I’ve never been with someone like her, someone who actually tries to be . . . less. Most of the girls I’ve known just are. But not Laney. She’s trying to be casual and easy, jumping into a sexual relationship with someone she barely knows. But it doesn’t come naturally for her. Oddly, as bass-ackwards as it sounds, that makes me respect her all the more.

This time, I do sigh.

“My mother was already sick when she got pregnant with Jenna. She wouldn’t even consider terminating the pregnancy to save her own life. She knew the risks, but she valued Jenna’s life more than her own.” I swallow hard. It’s never easy to think about all this shit, much less talk about it. Which is why I don’t.

Ever.

“Jake, I’m so sor—”

I hold up my hand to cut her off. I can see her sincerity in the big, glistening pools of her eyes. But she wanted it. Now she’s gonna get it. At least part of it. There’s still a part I’ll never share with another living soul.

Ever.

“So when Jenna was born, Dad was busy taking care of her and Mom just kept getting sicker. There was a point where there was nothing else the doctors or medicine could do for her. Other than to just let nature take its course.”

“How old were you when she . . .”

“Eight. I was eight years old when my mother died.”

I lean my head back against the cool ceramic of the tub, closing my eyes against that time in my life. I feel Laney’s lips, light as twin feathers, brush first my mouth then my cheek, my jaw then my chin, before she settles down on top of me. She rests her head on my chest and her right hand over my heart.

I can feel the sympathy and the regret rolling off her in nearly tangible waves. But I don’t want her sympathy. I don’t want anybody’s sympathy. I just want the past to be left alone. It’s already brought me enough pain in life without having to dig it all up again.

My tiny smile is bitter when I think to myself that Laney probably won’t be asking any more questions any time soon.

SEVENTEEN: Laney

I can’t help but smile as I smear cream cheese on a bagel half for Jake. It’s such a domestic thing to do—fix breakfast for the man with whom I share a house and a bed—that it makes me feel happy all the way to the bone. I could see this being my life for a long, long time.

Over the last four weeks, I’ve been bungee jumping with Jake, white water rafting with Jake, cliff diving with Jake, done all sorts of things I never thought I’d ever do, and as much fun as it’s been, some part of me still craves this—a home and a family. Mundane activities like making breakfast for the people I love.

As always when I think about my feelings for Jake, I feel the frown pucker my brow. I know he cares about me, and I care about him. Do I love him? I don’t know. Whatever it is I feel for him, it’s fierce. And passionate. And deep. It’s different than the way I felt about Shane. A lot different. The thing is, I don’t want to be in love with Jake. He’s made it perfectly clear that he’s not in it for love. He just wants to have some fun.

And we do. We have a lot of fun.

He loves my body. I know that for sure. We have some of the most amazing sex I’ve ever had. Better than anything I even thought could be experienced. So there’s that. But it’s not enough.

Sometimes, when I catch him staring at me or when I fall asleep on his chest while watching television on the couch and I wake to find him watching me or rubbing my cheek, I’ll think to myself that he must love me. But I’m not crazy enough to believe that actually means it’s so.

But do I want it to be?

Yes, I think I do. Despite it all—the unsavory reputation, the bad-boy ways, the thrill-seeking streak, the aversion to relationships—I still want him to be all mine.

But I don’t know if a guy like Jake will ever be all anybody’s.

And time is running out for me to try to win him over. I’ve already put in for two extensions with work. Another couple of weeks are all I’ll be able to get before I have to turn in my reports and leave the account with my boss.

The back door bangs and I jump, startled. I turn to see Jake walk into the kitchen, sweat beading on his forehead and a satisfied smile on his face. “Mmm, are you what’s for breakfast? Because I’m starved.” He bypasses the fridge and heads straight for me. He takes the bagel and the knife and sets them aside and then threads his fingers into my hair and kisses me long and deep, enough to set my skin on fire. When he lifts his head, I’m breathless and wanting something much more . . . personal than breakfast.

“I think I could probably arrange something.”

“No arranging necessary,” he says, his fingers already at the zipper of my shorts. “I have everything I need right here.”

The instant I realize he’s serious, heat floods my core. I run my hands over the slick skin of his chest and then down around his waist, tugging at the elastic of his shorts. He pushes at mine until they pass my hips then he sets to work on my panties as I pull his shorts down enough to free his long, strong length.

Chills spread down my back when I wind my fingers around it, the tips barely meeting around his thick base. It never ceases to amaze me that something so large will fit inside me. Yet I’m not at all surprised that it brings me so much pleasure. Jake knows his way around my body like he’s been loving it for years.

With a growl, he grabs my hips and turns me toward the cabinet. He reaches around and slides his palm down my stomach to the fire that’s raging between my legs. I spread my thighs for him, stepping out of the tangle of my shorts and panties as I do.

When he thrusts a finger inside me, my knees get weak and I take hold of the counter for support. Jake pushes me forward until I’m bent at the waist. With his thumb grazing my clitoris and his fingers thrusting into me, I’m quickly approaching the edge.

I pant breathlessly as he brings his other hand between my legs from behind. His fingers are making circles and diving in and out of me, all at the same time. He leans over me to lick and then bite my shoulder. “Is this enough or do you want more?”

I’m breathless and my head is swimming. “More,” I breathe. “I want more.”

“Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

I feel his hardness pressing against my hip. “I want you. Inside me.”

“Tell me you want my cock. Tell me you want to come all over my cock,” he snarls as his fingers move over me, winding me up like a pocket watch. His words are like gasoline poured on an already raging fire. My muscles clench as the tension in my body reaches fever pitch.

“I want your cock. I want to come all over your cock. Please, Jake. Please.”

I’m so close, but I want him inside me. And he knows it. He’s holding back just long enough . . .

And then he’s sliding wetly into me from behind. One deep, sharp thrust. I cry out, unable to hold it in one second longer. His fingers bite into my hips as he pumps into me.

“That’s right, baby. I wanna hear you. Let me hear you,” Jake demands from behind me, thrusting into me harder.

I can’t hold in my gasps of breath or my moans of pleasure. This was so sudden and so raw, I feel like I could growl.

I curl my fingers around the edge of the counter, holding on to the world, to my sanity, as Jake stiffens behind me. I feel his fingers tangle in my hair and tug as he shoots liquid heat deep inside me. Then, with his name on my lips in a voice that I barely recognize as my own, I shatter like a stained glass window.

Shards of multicolored crystal explode behind my eyes. Jake’s thrusts are vicious. And all my body can say is Give me more!

When the spasms subside and I’m collapsed on the counter with Jake draped over me, both of us drinking in huge gulps of air, I marvel at the intensity of what we just shared. Rather than things losing their luster or becoming too comfortable or ordinary, it seems they’re going the opposite direction. It’s as though every minute of every day, every time we make love, it gets better and better. Hotter and hotter. More and more earth-shattering.

And more and more meaningful.

* * *

After the tingling wore off from my waist down, I finished smearing sweet spread on our bagels. Now, I’m sitting across from Jake as we munch on a late breakfast.

A very late breakfast.

“How’s work coming?” he asks, out of the blue.

“Fine,” I say, noncommittally. I swallow a piece of bagel, feeling it stick in my suddenly dry throat. “I don’t have much left to do. Soon, I’ll be out of your hair.”

I keep my attention on my food, carefully tearing off another bite of bagel, but not putting it in my mouth. My appetite seems to have disappeared.

When finally I look up, Jake is watching me. His expression is fathomless. His golden eyes search mine for several long seconds before he starts to nod slowly. “How would you feel about a camping trip this weekend?”

I grin. It’s like a stay of execution, this invitation. I love the thought of spending more time with him, especially out away from the world. Something secluded like a camping trip sounds wonderful.

“Sounds like fun.” I try for a mild answer, which I’m sure is belied by my bright smile.

“That way we can be gone on Sunday, too. I know how much it bothers you not to be going to church.”

My heart melts a little at his thoughtfulness. I had told him that very first Sunday that I stayed here that I felt guilty, that any time I was in town, I attended my father’s church on Sunday. At the time, Jake made no comment, but now I know he heard. And it means the world, not only that he listened, but that he cares enough about me to be mindful of my comfort.

Don’t read too much into it, Laney, I caution myself, but I know it’s too late. It’s just another little thing that I’ll dwell on, wondering if it means he has deeper feelings for me.

I shrug. “It’s not that big a deal.”

Jake is quiet for a few seconds before he speaks again. He clears his throat. “You know, if you want to go, you can. And if you need me to go with you, I would do that.”

I would give anything to be able to control the gush of tears that floods my eyes. But I can’t. Before I know it, my eyes are burning and Jake is blurry. Quickly, I look down at my plate, but I know I wasn’t fast enough.

I hear the scrape of wood against wood as Jake pushes his bar stool away from the island. I don’t bother to look up. I don’t want him to see the pain in them now, behind the tears. I knew this would be too much for him. Too emotional. Too . . . real.

But, much to my surprise, Jake rounds the island and comes to my side to turn me around on my stool. I keep my head down, but, with a finger under my chin, he lifts my face until I’m looking into his eyes.

“It’s all right that it bothers you. It should. Your father is a good man. Misguided at times, but I think his intentions are good. He loves you. That much is obvious.” I blink and tears spill down my cheeks, unchecked. Jake’s eyes follow one all the way down to my jaw where he brushes it away with the backs of his fingers. “You’re lucky to have him. I’d have given anything for my father to feel that way about me.”

For just a few seconds, the real Jake, the one behind the tough guy, peers back at me from somewhere inside those guarded amber eyes. I want so much to talk to him, but I know better than to try. I know better than to ask any questions. No matter how much I want to know, I’m well aware that there are some things Jake won’t tell me until he’s good and ready. Which he may never be. But I know enough. Somehow, his father hurt him. Badly. And Jake has never gotten over it. That much is clear.

“Anyone would be a fool not to love you,” I blurt, caught up in the moment, in the haunted look that’s in his eyes. When I realize what I said, I feel a moment of sheer panic. But then Jake smiles, and I mentally exhale.

His expression is wry when he says, simply, “Thank you, but you don’t know me as well as he did. He had his reasons.”

As I watch, the curtain falls back into place and, just like that, tender, broken Jake is gone, replaced once more by the person who pretends to feel nothing. Who wants to feel nothing.

“But I want to know you, Jake,” I confess candidly, and not for the first time.

“I know you do. But I also know what I’m saving you from. Trust me, it’s for the best.”

With that, he kisses my forehead and backs away. “How about we divide and conquer? I know you’ve got some work to do, but do you think you’d have time for a quick trip to the store? If you can get that, I’ll have everything else ready and we can leave after lunch tomorrow.”

Back to business as usual.

I hide my sigh behind a sniff.

“Sure. Just tell me what to get.”

“I’ll text you a list. First, though, I need a shower.” He gives me a casual smile, a peck on the lips and then he turns to walk away. Jake has an enviable way of just moving on, not dwelling on things he can’t control. He can’t fix the past so he doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to think about it. He just . . . moves on. Some might call that hiding, but Jake’s no coward. I think this is just his way of conquering it. By not letting it conquer him.

While I admire his determination, it still makes me feel so sad. “Okay. I’m heading to the office,” I say with a smile. We now refer to the dining room as my office.

Jake tosses me a wink and takes the stairs two at a time. I don’t move on nearly so quickly.

* * *

True to his word, my phone chirps about an hour later. It’s a text from Jake. A list of things to get from the grocery store. As I’m scrolling through it, my phone rings and startles the crap out of me. When I finish fumbling to keep from dropping it, I see that it’s Tori.

Again.

She’s called me at least a dozen times in the last week. It’s not that I don’t want to hear what she has to say. Well, I don’t, but now I feel a little more willing to. She’s been my best friend for a lot of years. The least I can do is listen to her.

No, one of the biggest reasons I don’t want to talk to her is that I feel like Jake and I are living in a bubble, one that could pop at any moment. And I want to enjoy every second of it while I can. I don’t want anyone intruding on our time together. Tori included.

I hit the red button to decline the call and set my phone back on the table.

Maybe later. Right now, I’m going to the store. I don’t really have time to talk to her.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

After running a brush through my hair and putting on some lightly tinted lip gloss, I text Jake that I’m leaving and head for my car. He’s out in the orchard. Somewhere.

It only takes me about fifteen minutes to get to the one and only grocery store in Greenfield. I look at the clock when I pull into a parking spot in the lot. Two forty on a Thursday afternoon. I shouldn’t be running into anyone I know at such an odd time.

I grab a buggy and pull up Jake’s list on my phone. I start in the produce section. For having such a hellion reputation around town for most of his life, he sure does practice mostly clean living. He drinks a beer or two on occasion, but mostly drinks water and eats healthy foods. He runs almost every day and he stays active. He doesn’t smoke or do drugs. He’s in outstanding physical condition, something I can personally attest to, and I can’t think of one thing I’d change about him.

Unless it was that he’d fall in love with me . . .

I mutter to myself all the way through the fruit, chastising my stupid, stupid emotional self for going there. I’m not even sure that’s what I’d want.

The hell you’re not!

I have to smile when the thought pops up. It sounds in my head like Jake would say it in real life. Same tone, same kind of expression. Same . . . Jake.

I sigh. I think it’s safe to say that, no matter my intentions or how hard I tried not to let it happen, Jake got under my skin.

“Just how the hell long are you gonna ignore me?”

I jump when Tori’s furious voice barks from behind me. I was so lost in thought, I didn’t even hear her approach me.

I sigh again.

“Tori, I just didn’t want to get into it yet. Can’t you give me some space?”

“Space?” my oldest friend says, her bright blue eyes flashing and her very ample bosom heaving. With her long blond hair thrown over one shoulder and her chin lifted in defiance, she looks like the cover of a magazine. “I’ve seen you once all summer. The only bigger space than that is death!”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

Tori’s lip pooches out in a pout. “You’re making me dramatic. What do I have to do to get through to you? All I want is for you to hear me out.”

I knew it was coming. I had just hoped to avoid it a little while longer. “Fine. You talk, I’ll shop.”

“Really? I’ve been your best friend since the womb and I get half your attention while you shop?”

I grit my teeth. This is really unhandy.

“All right, then let’s go to the café and have a cup of coffee.”

“The coffee here sucks,” Tori says with a curl of her lip.

“Tori! Not the point.”

“Right, right, right,” she says, shaking her head like she’s clearing it. “Okay, that’s fine.”

I turn the buggy around and head back toward the front of the store and the little lunch-area-slash-café that dominates one side of the building, just past the pharmacy. “How’d you find me, anyway?”

“I saw you pull in. In a town this small, it’s a miracle you’ve been able to avoid me this long.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t talked to Mom or Dad then?”

She looks at me like I’ve completely lost my mind. “Hell no! Are you nuts? And get the lecture of a lifetime on what a devil-worshippin’ skank I am? I think not.”

“What-ever! You know my parents would never say any such thing. And to be honest, they don’t even know what happened. I haven’t, uh, I haven’t told them yet.”

“Really? So they have no clue why you dumped Shane?”

I shake my head.

“Well, I’m gonna be honest. That doesn’t bother me one bit. I’d rather they not hate me until you’ve heard the whole story.”

I make no comment. I just keep steering the cart toward the café until I find an empty booth to park it beside. I throw my purse in first and slide into one side of the booth. After I’m situated, I take a deep breath and fold my arms on the table in front of me, lacing my fingers together.

“Stop that!” Tori blurts.

“Stop what?”

“Stop doing that. You look like you’re just biding your time until you hand down my death sentence.”

“I’m not your judge, Tori. God is.”

“Thank goodness for that. At least He knows what I was trying to do.”

Even though the wound from the whole episode has gone practically numb (no doubt thanks to the attentions of one Jake Theopolis), it still irks me to remember finding her in bed with Shane. And that she’s now going to sit here and try to explain it away.

Whatever, I think with an internal roll of my eyes. It’ll all be over soon enough.

“So, say what you need to. I’ve got some shopping to do.”

Tori gives me a withering look, but says nothing. After a few seconds, she sits up straighter in her seat and clears her throat.

“Okay, let me just remind you that it’s me who’s been telling you for over two years now that something’s not right with Shane. I told you, he’s a hound dog in sheep’s clothing.”

My laugh is bitter. “Thank you for so kindly showing me that you were right.”

Tori slumps forward and reaches out to cover my hands with hers. “You needed to see it, Laney. You needed to see it to believe it. Before you married that jackhole. No matter what I told you, you always believed in him. And that’s great. Until the person you have so much faith in isn’t worth it anymore.” She pauses, as if to let her words sink in before she continues. “Laney, I love you. I would never, never, never do that to you. If you’ll remember, I knew you were going to Shane’s early. You texted me that morning to say that your pedicure had been cancelled and that you were going to surprise Shane.”

“Yeah, but even you wouldn’t have expected me that early. I didn’t tell anyone that I cancelled my dentist appointment, too.”

“Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to risk it, though? Really, Laney?”

Tori looks so sincere. So desperate for me to believe her. And for the first time since it happened, I begin to feel a little niggle of doubt. Could she be telling the truth?

“Okay then, just for the sake of argument, tell me what happened. Exactly.”

Tori takes a deep breath. “Okay, here goes. So, for a while now, I’d been getting the feeling that Shane was coming on to me. Just a little comment here and there, a little flirting when you weren’t in the room, casual ‘bumps,’ things like that. But one day about a month ago, I had gone to his place, thinking you’d be there, but you weren’t. He said you’d be back shortly and that I could wait. So I did. Well, he asked if I wanted a beer and, you know me, I said yes. So he brought us both a beer and he sat down on the couch beside me.

“We chatted about random things. He asked me about school, I asked him about work. You know, all that boring shit. Things didn’t used to be that strained between us. You knew I always liked Shane. Well, at first I did. Anyway, I finished my beer and asked if I could have another. He said, ‘Sure. Help yourself.’ So I did. It was when I was in the kitchen at the fridge that he came up behind me. I turned around so fast I just about fell into the butter, he scared me so bad. And then he kissed me. Just like that. Like he thought that was okay.”

When she pauses, I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t. “So what did you do?”

“Nothing. When he leaned back, I told him I had to go. So I grabbed my shit and I left.”

“And that’s it?”

“I was freaked out, Laney! Wouldn’t you have been? I mean, imagine what kind of position that put me in. Yes, I’d been warning you about him, but to say he tried to kiss me would only make you think badly of me, which is really sad but true.”

“So you’re saying that because I had faith in my fiancé, you felt you had no choice but to sleep with him to prove a point?”

“God!” Tori exclaims, throwing her head back. “Laney, no. I’m just saying that I knew you’d have to see it for yourself to believe it. That’s all. Cheese and crackers, woman!”

I’m too angry to be softened by the expression—cheese and crackers—that Tori has used all our lives, one that I always loved. At the moment, I have no tender feelings toward her at all. I just feel manipulated. And foolish.