Off-Campus, 5) The Legacy

She’sgoodatachievinghergoals…
CollegeseniorSabrinaJameshasherwholefutureplannedout:graduatefromcollege,kickbuttinlawschool,andlandahigh-payingjobatacutthroatfirm.Herpathtoescapinghershamefulpastcertainlydoesn’tincludeagorgeoushockeyplayerwhobelievesinloveatfirstsight.Onenightofsizzlingheatandsurprisingtendernessisallshe’swillingtogiveJohnTucker,butsometimes,onenightisallittakesforyourentirelifetochange.
Butthegamejustgotawholelotmorecomplicated
Tuckerbelievesbeingateamplayerisasimportantasbeingthestar.Ontheice,he’sfinestayingoutofthespotlight,butwhenitcomestobecomingadaddyattheageoftwenty-two,herefusestobeabenchwarmer.Itdoesn’thurtthatthesoon-to-bemotherofhischildisbeautiful,whip-smart,andkeepshimonhistoes.Theproblemis,Sabrina’sheartislockeduptight,andthefierybrunetteistoostubborntoaccepthishelp.Ifhewantsalifewiththewomanofhisdreams,he’llhavetoconvinceherthatsomegoalscanonlybemadewithanassist.TheGoal
AnOff-CampusNovel
ElleKennedyTableofContents
AbouttheBook
TitlePage
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Chapter27
Chapter28
Chapter29
Chapter30
Chapter31
Chapter32
Chapter33
Chapter34
Chapter35
Chapter36
Chapter37
Chapter38
Chapter39
Epilogue
OtherTitlesbyElleKennedy
Author’sNote
AbouttheAuthor
Copyright1
Sabrina
“Crap.Crap.Crap.Craaaaap.Wherearemykeys?”
TheclockinthenarrowhallwaytellsmeIhavefifty-twominutestomakeasixty-eight-minutedriveifIwanttogettothepartyontime.
Icheckmypurseagain,butthekeysaren’tthere.Irunthroughthevariouslocations.Dresser?No.Bathroom?Wasjustthere.Kitchen?Maybe—
I’mabouttopivotwhenIhearajingleofmetalbehindme.
“Youlookingforthese?”
ContemptlodgesinmythroatasIturnaroundandstepintoalivingroomsosmallthatthefivepiecesofdatedfurniture—twotables,oneloveseat,onesofa,andonechair—aresquashedtogetherlikesardinesinacan.Thelumpoffleshonthecouchwavesmykeysintheair.Atmysighofirritation,hegrinsandshovesthemunderhissweatpants-coveredass.
“Comeandget’em.”
Idragafrustratedhanddownmyflat-ironedhairbeforestalkingovertomystepfather.“Givememykeys,”Idemand.
Rayleersinreturn.“Da-amn,youlookhottonight.You’veturnedintoarealbabe,Rina.Youandmeshouldgetiton.”
Iignorethemeatyhandthat’sfallingtohiscrotch.I’veneverknownamansodesperatetotouchhisownjunk.HemakesHomerSimpsonlooklikeagentleman.
“YouandIdon’texisttoeachother.Sodon’tlookatme,anddon’tcallmeRina.”Ray’stheonlypersonwhoevercallsmethat,andIfuckinghateit.“Nowgivememykeys.”
“Itoldyou—comeandget’em.”
Withgrittedteeth,Ishovemyhandunderhislard-assandrootaroundformykeys.Raygruntsandsquirmslikethedisgustingpieceofshitheisuntilmyhandconnectswithmetal.
Idragthekeysfreeandspinbacktothedoorway.
“What’sthebigdeal?”hemocksafterme.“It’snotlikewe’rerelated,sothere’snoincestproblem.”
Istopandusethirtysecondsofmyprecioustimetostareathimindisbelief.“You’remystepfather.Youmarriedmymother.And—”Iswallowarushofbile,“—andyou’resleepingwithNananow.So,no,it’snotaboutwhetheryouandIarerelated.It’sbecauseyou’rethegrossestpersonontheplanetandyoubelonginprison.”
Hishazeleyesdarken.“Watchyourmouth,missy,oroneofthesedaysyou’llcomehomeandthedoorswillbelocked.”
Whatever.“Ipayforathirdoftherenthere,”Iremindhim.
“Well,maybeyou’llbeinchargeofmore.”
Heturnsbacktothetelevision,andIspendanothervaluablethirtysecondsfantasizingaboutbashinghisheadinwithmypurse.Worthit.
Inthekitchen,Nanaissittingatthetable,smokingacigaretteandreadinganissueofPeople.“Didyouseethis?”sheexclaims.“KimKisnudeagain.”
“Goodieforher.”Igrabmyjacketoffthebackofthechairandheadforthekitchendoor.
I’vefoundthatit’ssafertoleavethehousethroughtheback.ThereareusuallystreetpunkscongregatingonthestoopsofthenarrowtownhousesonourlessthanaffluentstreetinthislessthanaffluentpartofSouthie.Besides,ourcarportisbehindthehouse.
“HeardRachelBerkovichgotknockedup,”Nanaremarks.“Sheshould’veabortedit,butIguessit’sagainsttheirreligion.”
Iclenchmyteethagainandturntofacemygrandmother.Asusual,she’swearingarattyrobeandfuzzypinkslippers,butherdyedblondehairisteasedtoperfectionandherfaceisfullymade-upeventhoughsherarelygoesout.
“She’sJewish,Nana.Idon’tthinkit’sagainstherreligion,butevenifitis,that’sherchoice.”
“Probablywantsthoseextrafoodstamps,”Nanaconcludes,blowingalongstreamofsmokeinmydirection.Shit.IhopeIdon’tsmelllikeanashtraybythetimeIgettoHastings.
“I’mguessingthatisn’tthereasonRachel’skeepingthebaby.”Onehandonthedoor,Ishiftrestlessly,waitingforanopeningtotellNanagoodbye.
“Yourmommathoughtaboutabortingyou.”
Andthereitis.“Okay,that’senough,”Imutter.“I’mgoingtoHastings.I’llbebacktonight.”
Herheadjerksupfromthemagazineandhereyesnarrowasshetakesinmyblackknitskirt,blackshort-sleevedsweaterwithascoopneck,andthree-inchheels.Icanseethewordsforminginhermindbeforetheyevenleavehermouth.
“You’relookinguppity.Goingofftothatfancycollegeofyours?YougotclassesonSaturdaynight?”
“It’sacocktailparty,”Ianswergrudgingly.
“Oooh,cocktail,schocktail.Hopeyourlipsdon’tgetchappedkissingalltheassdownthere.”
“Yeah,thanks,Nana.”Iwrenchopenthebackdoor,forcingmyselftoadd,“Loveyou.”
“Loveyoutoo,babygirl.”
Shedoesloveme,butsometimesthatloveissotainted,Idon’tknowifit’shurtingmeorhelpingme.
Idon’tmakethedrivetothesmalltownofHastingsinfifty-twominutesorsixty-eightminutes.Instead,ittakesmeanentirehourandahalfbecausetheroadsaresodamnbad.AnotherfiveminutespassbeforeIcanfindaparkingspace,andbythetimeIreachProfessorGibson’shouse,I’mtenserthanapianowire—andfeelingaboutasfragile.
“Hi,Mr.Gibson.I’msosorryI’mlate,”Itellthebespectacledmanatthedoor.
ProfessorGibson’shusbandgivesmeasoftsmile.“Don’tworryaboutit,Sabrina.Theweatheristerrible.Letmetakeyourcoat.”HeholdsoutahandandwaitspatientlywhileIstruggleoutofmywooljacket.
ProfessorGibsonarrivesasherhusbandishangingmycheapcoatamongstalltheexpensiveonesinthecloset.ItlooksasoutofplaceasIdo.Ishoveasidethefeelingsofinadequacyandsummonupabrightsmile.
“Sabrina!”ProfessorGibsoncallsoutgaily.Hercommandingpresencejerksmetoattention.“I’msogladyouarrivedinonepiece.Isitsnowingyet?”
“No,justrain.”
Shegrimacesandtakesmyarm.“Evenworse.Ihopeyoudon’tplanondrivingbacktothecitytonight.Theroadswillbeonesheetofice.”
SinceIhavetoworkinthemorning,I’llbemakingthattrekregardlessoftheroadconditions,butIdon’twantProftoworry,soIsmilereassuringly.“I’llbefine.Isshestillhere?”
Theprofessorsqueezesmyforearm.“Sheis,andshe’sdyingtomeetyou.”
Awesome.ItakemyfirstfullbreathsinceIgothereandallowmyselftobeledacrosstheroomtowardashort,gray-hairedwomandressedinaboxypastelsuitcoatoverapairofblackpants.Theoutfitisratherblah,butthediamondssparklinginherearsarelargerthanmythumb.Also?Sheseemstoogenialforaprofessorofthelaw.Ialwaysenvisionedthemasdour,seriouscreatures.Likeme.
“Amelia,letmeintroduceyoutoSabrinaJames.She’sthestudentI’vebeentellingyouabout.Atthetopofherclass,holdsdowntwojobs,andmanagedaoneseventy-sevenonherLSATs.”ProfessorGibsonturnstome.“Sabrina,AmeliaFromm,constitutionalscholarextraordinaire.”
“Sonicetomeetyou,”Isay,holdingoutmyhandandprayingtoGoditfeelsdryandnotdamp.Ipracticedshakingmyownhandforanhourleadinguptothis.
Ameliagripsmelightlybeforesteppingback.“Italianmother,Jewishgrandfather,hencetheoddcombinationofnames.JamesisScottish—isthatwhereyourfamilyisfrom?”Herbrighteyessweepoverme,andIresisttheurgetofidgetwithmycheapTargetclothing.
“Icouldn’tsay,ma’am.”Myfamilycomesfromthegutter.Scotlandseemsfartooniceandregaltobeourhomeland.
Shewavesahand.“It’snotimportant.Idabbleingenealogyontheside.So,you’veappliedtoHarvard?That’swhatKellyhastoldme.”
Kelly?DoIknowaKelly?
“Shemeansme,dear,”ProfessorGibsonsayswithagentlelaugh.
Iblush.“Yes,sorry.IthinkofyouasProf.”
“Soformal,Kelly!”ProfessorFrommaccuses.“Sabrina,whereelsehaveyouapplied?”
“BostonCollege,Suffolk,andYale,butHarvardismydream.”
AmeliaraisesaneyebrowatmylistoftiertwoandthreeBostonschools.
ProfessorGibsonjumpstomydefense.“Shewantstostayclosetohome.AndobviouslyshebelongsatsomeplacebetterthanYale.”
Thetwoprofessorsshareacontemptuoussniff.ProfwasaHarvardgrad,andapparentlyonceaHarvardgrad,alwaysananti-Yaleperson.
“FromallthatKellyhasshared,itsoundslikeHarvardwouldbehonoredtohaveyou.”
“ItwouldbemyhonortobeaHarvardstudent,ma’am.”
“Acceptancelettersarebeingmailedoutsoon.”Hereyestwinklewithmischief.“I’llbesuretoputinagoodword.”
Ameliabestowsanothersmile,andInearlyfaintinhappyrelief.Iwasn’tjustblowingsmokeupherass.Harvardreallyismydream.
“Thankyou,”Imanagetocroakout.
ProfessorGibsonpointsmetowardthefood.“Whydon’tyougetsomethingtoeat?Amelia,IwanttotalktoyouaboutthatpositionpaperIheardwascomingoutofBrown.Didyouhaveachancetolookatit?”
Thetwoturnaway,divingdeepintoadiscussionaboutintersectionalityofBlackfeminismandracetheory,atopicthatProfessorGibsonisanexpertin.
Iwanderovertotherefreshmenttable,whichisdrapedinwhiteandloadedwithcheese,crackers,andfruit.Twoofmyclosestfriends—HopeMatthewsandCarinThompson—arealreadystandingthere.Onedarkandonelight,they’rethetwomostbeautiful,smartestangelsintheworld.
Irushovertothemandnearlycollapseintheirarms.
“So?How’ditgo?”Hopeasksimpatiently.
“Good,Ithink.ShesaidthatitsoundedlikeHarvardwouldbehonoredtohavemeandthatthefirstwaveofacceptancelettersisgoingoutsoon.”
Igrabaplateandstartloadingitup,wishingthepiecesofcheesewerebigger.I’msohungryIcouldeatanentireblock.AlldayI’dbeensickwithanticipationbecauseofthismeeting,andnowthatit’sover,Iwanttofallface-firstintothefoodtable.
“Oh,youaresoin,”declaresCarin.
ThethreeofusareadviseesofProfessorGibson,who’sabigbelieverinhelpingyoungwomenalong.Thereareothernetworkingorganizationsoncampus,butherinfluenceissolelygearedtowardtheadvancementofwomen,andIcouldn’tbemoregrateful.
Tonight’scocktailpartyisdesignedforherstudentstomeetwithfacultymembersofthemostcompetitivegraduateprogramsinthenation.HopeisanglingforaplaceatHarvardMedwhileCarinisheadedforMIT.
Yep,it’saseaofestrogeninsideProfessorGibson’shouse.Otherthanherhusband,onlyacoupleofothermenarepresent.I’mreallygoingtomissthisplaceafterIgraduate.It’sbeenahomeawayfromhome.
“Fingerscrossed,”IsayinresponsetoCarin.“IfIdon’tgetintoHarvard,thenit’sBCorSuffolk.”Whichwouldbefine,butHarvardvirtuallyguaranteesmeashotatthejobIwantpost-graduation—apositionatoneofthenation’stoplawfirms,orwhateveryonecallsBigLaw.
“You’llgetin,”Hopesaysconfidently.“Andhopefullyonceyougetthatacceptanceletter,you’llstopkillingyourself,becauseLord,B,youlooktense.”
Irollmyheadaroundmyneckstiffly.Yeah,Iamtense.“Iknow.Myscheduleisbrutalthesedays.IwenttobedattwothismorningbecausethegirlwhowassupposedtocloseatBoots&Chutesbuggedoutandleftmetoclose,andthenIwasupatfourtosortmail.Igothomearoundnoon,crashed,andalmostoverslept.”
“You’restillworkingbothjobs?”Carinflipsherredhairoutofherface.“Yousaidyouweregoingtoquitthewaitressinggig.”
“Ican’tyet.ProfessorGibsonsaidthattheydon’twantusworkingourfirstyearoflawschool.TheonlywayIcanswingthatistohaveenoughforfoodandrentsavedupbeforeSeptember.”
Carinmakesasympatheticnoise.“Ihearyou.Myparentsaretakingoutaloansobig,Imightbeabletoaffordasmallcountrywithit.”
“Iwishyou’dmoveinwithus,”Hopesaysplaintively.
“Really?Ihadnoidea,”Ijoke.“You’veonlysaidittwiceadaysincethesemesterstarted.”
Shewrinkleshercutenoseatme.“You’dlovethisplacemydadrentedforus.It’sgotfloor-to-ceilingwindowsandit’srightonthesubwayline.Publictransportation.”Shewiggleshereyebrowsenticingly.
“It’stooexpensive,H.”
“YouknowI’dcoverthedifference—ormyparentswould,”shecorrectsherself.Thegirl’sfamilyhasmoremoneythananoiltycoon,butyou’dneverknowitfromtalkingtoher.Hope’sasdowntoearthastheycome.
“Iknow,”Isaybetweengulpingdownbitesofmini-sausages.“ButI’dfeelguiltyandthenguiltwouldturnintoresentmentandthenwewouldn’tbefriendsanymoreandnotbeingyourfriendwouldsuck.”
Sheshakesherheadatme.“If,atsomepoint,yourstubbornprideallowsyoutoaskforhelp,I’mhere.”
“We’rehere,”Carininterjects.
“See?”Iwavemyforkbetweenthetwoofthem.“ThisiswhyIcan’tlivewithyouguys.Youmeantoomuchtome.Besides,thisisworkingforme.I’vegotnearlytenmonthstosaveupbeforeclassesstartnextfall.I’vegotthis.”
“Atleastcomeforadrinkwithusafterthisthingisover,”Carinbegs.
“Ihavetodrivehome.”Imakeaface.“I’mscheduledtogoinandsortpackagestomorrow.”
“OnaSunday?”Hopedemands.
“Timeandahalf.Icouldn’tturnitdown.Actually,Ishouldprobablytakeoffsoon.”Ilaymyplateonthetableandtrytocatchaglimpseofwhat’sgoingonbeyondthehugebaywindow.AllIseeisdarknessandstreaksofrainontheglass.“SoonerI’montheroad,thebetter.”
“Notinthisweatheryou’renot.”ProfessorGibsonappearsatmyelbowwithaglassofwine.“Theweatheradvisoryisforsheetsofglass—temperature’sdroppingandtherainisturningintoice.”
Onelookatmyadvisor’sfaceandIknowIhavetoconcede.SoIdo,butwithgreatreluctance.
“Allright,”Isay,“butIdothisunderprotest.Andyou—”ItipmyforkinCarin’sdirection,“youbetterhaveicecreaminthefreezerincaseIhavetocrashwithyou,otherwiseI’mgoingtobereallymad.”
Allthreeofthemlaugh.ProfessorGibsonwandersoff,leavingustonetworkasbestasthreecollegeseniorscan.Afteranhourofmingling,Hope,CarinandIgrabourcoats.
“Wherearewegoing?”Iaskthegirls.
“D’AndreisatMalone’sandIsaidI’dmeethimthere,”Hopetellsme.“It’slikeatwo-minutedrive,soweshouldbefine.”
“Really?Malone’s?That’sahockeybar,”Iwhine.“What’sD’Andredoingthere?”
“Drinkingandwaitingforme.Besides,youneedtogetlaidandathletesareyourfavoritetype.”
Carinsnorts.“Heronlytype.”
“Hey,Ihaveaverygoodreasonforpreferringathletes,”Iargue.
“Iknow.We’veheardit.”Sherollshereyes.“Ifyouwantastatsquestionanswered,gotothemathgeeks.Ifyouwantaphysicalneedmet,gotoanathlete.Bodiesarethetoolsofaneliteathlete.Theytakecareofit,knowhowtopushitslimits,yadayada.”Carinmakesayappinggesturewithherlefthand
Iflickupmymiddlefinger.
“Butsexwithsomeoneyoulikeissomuchbetter.”ThiscomesfromHope,who’sbeenwithD’Andre,herfootballplayerboyfriend,sincefreshmanyear.
“Ilikethem,”Iprotest.“…forthehourorsoIusethem.”
Weshareagiggleoverthat,untilCarinbringsupaguywhobroughtdowntheaverage.
“DoyourememberTen-SecondGreg,though?”
Ishudder.“First,thankyouverylittleforbringingthatbadmemoryup,andsecond,I’mnotsayingtherearen’tduds.Justthattheoddsarebetterwithanathlete.”
“Andthehockeyplayersareduds?”Carinasks.
Ishrug.“Iwouldn’tknow.Ididn’taxthemfrommylistofpotentialsbecauseoftheirperformanceinthesack,butbecausethey’rehyper-privilegedjerkswhogetspecialfavorsfromtheprofs.”
“Sabrina,girl,yougottoletthatgo,”Hopeurges.
“Nope.Hockeyplayersdon’tmakethecut.”
“God,butlookatwhatyou’remissingouton.”Carinlicksherlipswithexaggeratedlasciviousness.“Thatoneguyontheteamwiththebeard?Iwanttoknowwhatthatfeelslike.Beardsareonmybucketlist.”
“Goonthen.Myboycottagainsthockeyplayersjustmeansmoreforyou.”
“I’monboardwiththis,but…”Shesmirks.“NeedIremindyouthatyouhookedupwiththemanslutDiLaurentis?”
Ugh.That’sareminderIneverneedtohear.
“First,Iwastotallydrunk,”Igrumble.“Second,thatwassophomoreyear.Andthird,he’sthereasonI’veswornoffhockeyplayers.”
EventhoughBriarUniversityhasachampionship-winningfootballteam,it’sknownasahockeycollege.Theguyswhowearskatesaretreatedlikegods.Caseinpoint—DeanHeyward-DiLaurentis.He’sapoliscimajorlikeme,sowe’vehadseveralclassestogether,includingStatisticsinoursophomoreyear.Thatcoursewashardasfuck.Everyonestruggled.
EveryonebutDean,whowasscrewingtheTA.
And—shocker!—shegavehimanA,whichheabsolutelydidnotdeserve.Iknowthisforafact,becausewewerepairedtogetherforthefinalassignment,andIsawthegarbageheturnedin.
WhenIfoundoutheacedit,Iwantedtochophisdickoff.Itwassounfair.Iworkedmybuttoffinthatcourse.Hell,Iworkmybuttoffforeverything.Myeveryaccomplishmentisstainedwithmyblood,sweatandtears.Meanwhile,someassholegetstheworldhandedtohimonaplatter?Fuck.That.
“She’sgettingmadagain,”Hopestage-whisperstoCarin.
“She’sthinkingabouthowDiLaurentisgotanAinthatoneclass,”Carinshout-whispersback.“Shereallydoesneedtogetlaid.Howlonghasitbeen?”
IstarttoflipheroffagainwhenitoccurstomethatIcan’tremembermylasthookup.
“Therewas,um,Meyer?Thelacrosseguy.ThatwasinSeptember.AndafterthatwasBeau…”Ibrightenup.“Ha!See?It’sonlybeenalittleoveramonth.Hardlyanationalemergency.”
“Girl,someonewithyourscheduleisn’tallowedtogoamonthwithoutsex,”Hopecounters.“You’reawalkingballofstress,whichmeansyouneedagooddickingatleast…daily,”shedecides.
“Everyotherday,”Carinargues.“Giveherladygardensometimetorest.”
Hopenods.“Fine.Butnorestforthepussytonight—”
Isnortinlaughter.
“Youhearthat,B?You’vebeenfed,youhadanafternoonnap,andnowyouneedsomesexytimes,”Carindeclares.
“ButMalone’s?”Irepeatwarily.“Wejustestablishedthattheplaceiscrawlingwithhockeyplayers.”
“Notexclusively.IbetBeauisthere.WantmetoaskD’Andre?”Hopeholdsupherphone,butIshakemyhead.
“Beau’stoomuchofatimecommitment.Likehewantedtotalkduringsex.Iwanttodothedeedandleave.”
“Oooh,talking!Scary.”
“Shutit.”
“Makeme.”Hopetossesherhead,herlongbraidssmackingagainstmycoat,andthenexitsProfessorGibson’shouse.
Carinshrugsandfollowsher,andafterasecondofhesitation,Idotoo.OurcoatsaredrenchedbythetimewereachHope’scar,butwehaveourhoodson,soourhairsurvivesthedownpour.
I’mreallynotinthemoodtochatupanyguystonight,butIcan’tdenythatmyfriendsareright.I’vebeenplaguedwithtensionforweeks,andthesepastfewdaysI’vedefinitelybeenfeelingthe…itch.Thekindofitchthatcanonlybescratchedwithahard,rippedbodyandahopefullyaboveaverage-sizedcock.
ExceptI’mextremelyselectiveaboutwhoIhookupwith,andjustasI’dfeared,Malone’sisthickwithhockeyplayerswhenthegirlsandIstrideinsidefiveminuteslater.
Buthey,ifthat’sthehandI’vebeendealt,thenIguessthere’snoharminplayingitandseeingwhathappens.
Still,IhavezeroexpectationsasIfollowmyfriendstothebarcounter.2
Tucker
“Stayawayfromthatone,kid.She’stoxic.”
Deanisdispensinghis(usuallymisguided)wisdomtoourfreshmanleftwing,HunterDavenport,asIwalkintoMalone’soutofthepouringrain.
Theroadsareshit,andIdon’tparticularlywanttobeheretonight,butDeaninsistedthatweneededtoparty.He’dbeenrestlesslypacingourtownhouseallday,grumpyashellandobviouslyupset,butwhenIquestionedhimaboutit,heshruggedandsaidhewasfeelingantsy.
Whichisbull.Imightbeconsideredquietcomparedtomyloud-mouthedteammates,butIain’tslow.AndIsureashelldon’tneedtobeadetectivetoputthecluestogether.
AllieHayes,thebestfriendofourotherroommate’sgirlfriend,crashedatourplacelastnight.
Deanisamanwhore.
ChicksloveDean.
Allieisachick.
Ergo,DeansleptwithAllie.
Plus,therewerealltheclothesscatteredaroundthelivingroombecauseDeanisphysicallyincapableofhavingsexinhisbedroom.
Hehasn’tfesseduptoityet,butI’msurehewilleventually.I’malsosurethatwhateverwentdownbetweenthemlastnight,Allie’snotlookingforarepeatperformance.ThoughwhythatshouldbotherDean,theone-nightstandking,I’veyettofigureout.
“Shedoesn’tlooktoxictome,”HunterdrawlsasIshakethewateroutofmyhair.
“HeyFido,”Deangrumblesmyway,“godryoffsomewhereelse.”
IrollmyeyesandfollowHunter’sgaze,whichisKrazyGluedtoaslenderbrunettefacingawayfromusatthelongcounter.Iseeashortskirt,killerlegs,andthickdarkhairstreamingdownherback.Nottomentiontheroundest,tightest,sexiestassI’veeverhadthepleasureofadmiring.
“Nice,”IremarkbeforegrinningatDean.“Itakeityoualreadycalleddibs?”
Hisfaceturnswhitewithhorror.“Notachance.That’sSabrina,bro.Shealreadybustsmyballsinclassonadailybasis.Idon’tneedherbustingthemoutsideofschool.”
“Wait,that’sSabrina?”Isayslowly.ThisisthegirlwhoDeanswearsishisnemesis?“I’veseenheraroundcampus,butIdidn’trealizeshe’stheoneyou’realwaysbitchingabout.”
“Oneandthesame,”hemutters.
“Damnshame.Shesureisnicetolookat.”Morethannice,actually.InthedictionarynexttofineisapictureofSabrina’sass.Itmightalsobenexttothewordsgorgeous,goddamn,andsmokeshow
“What’sthedealwithyoutwo?”Hunterpipesup.“Sheyourex?”
Deanrecoils.“Fuckno.”
Thefreshmanpurseshislips.“SoIwon’tbebreakingthebrocodeifImakeamove?”
“Youwanttomakeamove?Gonuts.ButI’mwarningyou,thatbitchwilleatyoualive.”
Iavertmyfacetohideagrin.SoundslikesomeonemayhaveturnedDeandown.There’sdefinitelysomekindofhistorybetweenthem,butevenafterHunterpresseshimaboutit,Deandoesn’tgiveupanyotherintel.Acrosstheroom,Sabrinaturns.Sheprobablyfeelsthreesetsofeyesonthatass—twoofwhicharedamnhungry.
Hergazecatchesmineandholdsit.There’schallengeinhereyesandthecompetitorinmerisestomeetit.
Youenoughforme?sheappearstobeasking.
Youhavenoidea,darlin’.
Asparkofheatlightshergaze—thatisuntilitfallsonDean.Immediately,herlushlipsthinandshejerksuphermiddlefingerinourdirection.
HuntergroansandmutterssomethingaboutDeanruininghischances.ButHunter’sababyandthatgirlhasenoughfireinhertoignitetheworld.Ican’timagineherwantingtotakeaneighteen-year-oldtobed,especiallyifheseesdefeatinthefirstobstacle.Kid’sgottagetstrongerifhewantstoplaywiththebigboys.
Idiginmypocketforsomecash.“I’mgonnagrababeer.Youguysneedarefill?”
Theybothshaketheirheads.Havingdischargedmyfriendduty,ImakemywaytothebarandSabrina,arrivingintimeforthebartendertodeliverherdrink.
Ilaydownatwenty.“I’vegotthat,andI’lltakeaMillerwhenyou’vegotaminute.”
ThebartendergrabsthebillandhustlesofftothecashregisterbeforeSabrinacanobject.Shegivesmeacontemplativelookandthenliftsthebeerbottletoherlips.
“I’mnotsleepingwithyoubecauseyouboughtmeadrink,”shesaysovertherim.
“Ihopenot,”Ireplywithashrug.“Ihavehigherstandardsthanthat.”
Igiveherapolitenodandmoseybacktothetablewhereafewofmyteammatesarecongregated.Behindme,Icanfeelhereyesboringintomyback.Sinceshecan’tseeme,Iallowasmileofsatisfactiontospreadacrossmyface.Thisisagirlwho’susedtobeingchased,whichmeansIneedtoworkalittlesurpriseintomypursuit.
Atthetable,Hunter’seyeinganotherpackofgirls,andDean’sheadisburiedinhisphone,probablytextingAllie.Iwonderiftheotherguysknowtheydidthedirty.Probablynot.GarrettandLoganareinBostonwiththeirgirlfriendsuntiltomorrow,sochancesarethey’restillinthedark.ButGarrettwasadamantthatDeankeephishandsoffAlliethisweekend.Hedidn’twantanydramatointerferewithhiscurrentlyperfectlifewithAllie’sbestfriend,Hannah.
Giventhattherehaven’tbeenanyexplosionsorfranticphonecalls,I’dbetthatDeanandAlliearekeepinglastnight’shookupontheDL.
JustasHunteropenshismouthtodeliversomebadlinetooneofthegirlswho’smadeherwayovertothetable,thelightsflickerominously.
Deanfrowns.“IsittheApocalypseoutthereorsomething?”
“It’scomingdownprettyhard,”Itellhim.
Afterthat,Deandecidestotakeoff.Istayput,despitethefactthatIdidn’tevenwanttohitthebartonight.Idon’tknowwhy,butthatbriefexchangewithSabrinagotmemorethanalittleworkedup.
It’snotlikethere’sashortageofgirlsinmylife.ImightnotbragaboutmyconquestslikeDeanorLoganormyotherteammates,butIgetplentyofplay.Ievenindulgeinone-nightstandsifI’mfeelingit.
Andrightnow,I’mfeelingit.
IwantSabrinaunderme.Overme.Anywhereshewantstoputherselfwilldo.AndIwantitsobadIhavetorubmyhandovermybeardsoIdon’tgiveintotheurgetoslideitlowerandrubsomethingelse.
I’mstillnotsurehowIfeelaboutthebeard.Igrewitaroundthetimeofthechampionshipgamethispastspring,butitgotmountain-manoutofcontrolonme,soIshaveditoverthesummer.ThenitgrewbackbecauseI’mlazyashell,andtrimmingitcloseisahelluvaloteasierthanshavingitalloff.
“Haveaseat,man,”Hunterencourages.Hiseyesactivelytelegraphthattherearethreeofthemandtwoofus,butthesegirls,asprettyastheyare,don’tinterestmeatall.
“Allyours,kid.”
IdrainmybottleandreturntothebarwhereSabrina’sstillstanding.Acoupleotherpredatorshaveedgedcloser.Igivethemallahardstareandslideintoanewlyvacatedspacebesideher.
Ileananelbowbehindmeagainstthebartop,givinghertheillusionofroom.Sheremindsmealittleofthoseuntamedponies,allwideeyes,longlegs,andtheunspokenpromiseofthebestrideofyourlife.Butyouplayyourhandtoosoonandshe’sgoingtorunoffandthere’llbenocatchingher.
“Soyou’reafriendofDiLaurentis?”
Thewordsarecasuallytossedout,butconsideringsheandDeandon’tlikeeachothermuch,there’sprobablyonlyonerightwaytorespondandthat’sbydenyingeverything.
Still,Iwon’tdothattoafriend,noteventogetlaid.AndwhateverissueSabrinahaswithDeandoesn’tinfluenceme,justlikeDean’sopinionofSabrinaisn’tgoingtoshapewhatI’mlookingforwithher.Besides,I’mabigbelieverinthesayingthatyoubeginhowyouintendtogoon.
“He’smyroommate.”
Shemakesnoefforttohideherdistasteandstartsbrushingmeoff.“Thanksforthedrink,butIthinkIseemyfriendswavingatme.”Shenodstowardagroupofgirls.
Isurveythecrowd,noneofwhomareevenlookinginourdirection,andturnbacktoherwithasadshakeofmyhead.“Yougottadobetterthanthat.Ifyouwantmetogo,tellmetogo.Youlooklikeagirlwhoknowswhatshewantsandisn’tafraidtosayit.”
“IsthatwhatDeantoldyou?Ibethecalledmeabitch,didn’the?”
ThistimeIopttokeepmymouthshut.Instead,Itakeadrink.
“He’sright,”shecontinues.“IamandI’mnotsorryforit.”
Herchinjutsoutadorably.I’dpinchit,butIthinkI’dloseafewfingersandI’mgoingtoneedthemlatertonight.Ihaveplanstohavethemalloverherbody.
ShetakesanothersipofthebeerIboughther,andIwatchthedelicatemusclesinherthroatwork.Fuck,she’sbeautiful.Deancould’vesaidthatshesucksthelifeoutofbabiesandI’dstillbeoverhere.She’sgotthatkindofdraw.
Andit’snotjustme.Halfthemalepopulationinthebaristhrowingglaresofenvyinmydirection.Icantmybodyslightlytohideherfromview.
“Okay,”Isaylightly.
“Okay?”Shegetsthecutestlookofconfusiononherface.
“Yup.Isthatsupposedtoscaremeoff?”
Herperfectlyshapedeyebrowscrashtogether.“Idon’tknowwhatelsehesaid,butI’mnoteasy.I’mnotagainstahookup,butI’mpickyaboutwhoIletintomybed.”
“Hedidn’tsayanythingaboutthat.Onlythatyoulikedtobusthisballs.ButwebothknowthatDean’segocanwithstandablownowandagain.Thequestioniswhetheryou’rehunguponhim.Kindofseemslikeyouare,becausehe’stheonlythingyoucantalkabout.”Ishrug.“Ifthat’sthecase,I’llskaterightnow.”
WhileDeansaidhedidn’thavefeelingsforSabrina,Iwanttomakesuretherearen’tanylingeringemotionsonherend.Hertonewhenshementionedhimwasmad,though,notbitter,whichItakeasagoodsign.Angercouldstemfromanynumberofthings.Bitternessisusuallyhurtfeelings.
When—notif—wegetintobedtogether,itshouldbebecauseshewantstobewithme,notasawaytogetbackatDean.
Hergazeflicksovermyshouldertowheremyteammateisstillsitting,thenbacktome.SheandIdrinkinsilenceforabit.Herchocolate-browneyesaretoughtoread,butIgetthesenseshe’sweighingmywordscarefully.Itmightbethatsheexpectsmetotalk,fillthesilence,butI’mwaitingherout.Plus,itgivesmetimetoinspecthercloseup.Andfromthisdistance,she’sevenmorebeautifulthanIrealized.
Shedoesn’tjusthaveaworld-classassandendlesslegs.Herrackisthekindthatcanturnamanreligious.Asin,thankyou,Jesus,forcreatingthisgloriouscreatureandplease,Lord,makehernotalesbian.NotblatantlystaringattheprettyswellsrisingabovehertopisoneoftheharderthingsI’vehadtodo.
Finally,shesetsherbottleonthebar.“Justbecauseyou’reprettydoesn’tmeanI’minterested.”
Igrin.“Aguy’sgottastartsomewhere.”
Areluctantsmiletugsatthecornersofhermouth.Shewipesherhandagainstherskirtandsticksitout.
“I’mSabrinaJames.I’veheardallthejokesaboutbeingawitch,andno,IamnothunguponDeanDiLaurentis.”
Itakeherhandinmineandusethecontacttopullheraninchclosertome.It’sbabystepswiththisone.
“JohnTucker.Gladtohearit,butyoushouldknowthatDeanislikeabrothertome.We’vehadeachother’sbacksontheiceforfouryears,livedtogetherforthreeofthem,andIplantostandupathisweddingandhopehedoesthesameatmine.Thatsaid,he’smyfriend,notmydaddy.”
“Wait,you’regettingmarried?”shesaysinconfusion.
It’skindofamusingthatoutofeverythingIsaid,that’sthebitshe’sharpingon.Ismoothahanddowntheoutsideofherarmandlooselycircleherwristwithmyfingers.“Inthefuture,darlin’.Inthefuture.”
“Oh.”Shepicksupherbeerandthenputsitdownwhensheseesit’sempty.“Wait.Youwanttogetmarried?”
“Eventually.”Ichuckleatherastonishment.“Nottoday,butyeah,onedayIwanttobemarriedandhaveakidorthree.You?”
Thebartendercomesby,andInudgeanothertwentyinhisdirection.
ButSabrinashakesherhead.“I’mdriving.Onebeerismylimit.”
Iorderuswatersinstead,andhe’sbackinaflashwithtwotallglasses.
Thelightsflickeragain,sendingajoltofurgencytomygut.I’mgoingtohavetoclosethisdealsoonorloseoutentirely.
“Thanks,”shesaysasshesipsthewater.“And,no.Idon’tseemyselfhavingkidsorahusbandinthenearfuture.Besides,Ithoughtyouhockeyplayerslikedtoplaythefield.”
“Atsomepoint,eventhegreatonesretire.”Ismirkoverthetopofmyglass.
Shelaughs.“Allright.I’llgiveyouthat.Sowhat’syourmajor,John?”
“Tucker.EveryonecallsmeTuckerorTuck.Andit’sbusinessadmin.”
“Soyoucanmanageallyourhockeymoney?”
Istillhaven’tletgoofherwrist,andwitheachexchange,I’meliminatingallthedistancebetweenus.
“Nope.”Inodtowardmyknee.“I’mtooslowforthepros.Igotbangedupinhighschool.I’mgoodenoughforascholarshiphere,butIknowmylimits.”
“Oh,I’msorry.”There’strueregretinhervoice.
Dean’safool.Thisgirlisassweetastheycome.Ican’twaittogetmymouthonher.
Andmyhands.
Andmyteeth.
Andmyhard-as-steelcock.
“Don’tbe.I’mnot.”
IslidemyarmalongthebaruntilSabrina’sessentiallystandinginthecircleofmyarms.Herfeetaretuckedbetweenmine,andifIshiftmyhipsslightlyforward,I’llbeabletomakethecontactmybodyisdyingfor.Butifthere’sonethingI’velearnedinalltheyearsI’veplayedhockey,it’sthatpatienceisrewarded.Youdon’ttakeanimmediateshotwhenyourstickgetsthepuck.Youwaitfortherightopening.
“Ineverreallywantedit,”Iadd.“AndIthinkit’soneofthosethingsyouhavetoreallywanttopursue.”
Andthenshegivesittome.Theopening.“Sowhatdoyouwantthesedays?”
“You,”Ianswerbaldly.
Twothingshappen.Thelightsgooutcompletelyandshenearlydropsherglass.Thejukeboxdiesoutandsuddenlythebarseemswaytooquiet.Aroundusareafewshrieksoflaughter,afewshoutsofdismay.
“Keepyourpantson,children,”oneofthebartendersyells.“We’regoingtoseewhat’sgoingon.Generatorshouldkickinanysecond.”
Asifoncue,ahummingnoisefillstheairandthenadimglowoflightilluminatesthecrowdedroom.
“Youstillthirsty?”Iask,strokingtheinsideofherwristwithlong,gentlestrokes.Uptowardtheinnerelbowandbackdowntothewrist.Repeat.Againandagainandagain.
Hergazedropstoourjoinedhandsandwidenasifshejustnowrealizeswe’vebeentouchingforthelasttenminutesorso.Ileanincloseandbrushmynoseagainsttheouteredgeofherearlobe,fillingmylungswithherspicyscent.
Icouldstandhereallday.There’ssomethinggreataboutdrawingouttheanticipationuntilit’snearlypainful.Itmakesthereleaseallthemoreexplosive.IhaveafeelingthatsexwithSabrinaJameswillblowmymind.
Ican’tfuckingwait.
Aftertakingadeepbreath,onethatpushesherperfecttitsintomychest,sheeasesback—nottoofar,butenoughtocreateasliverofdistance.
“I’mnotintorelationships,”shesaysbluntly.“Ifwedothis—”
“Dowhat?”Ican’thelpbuttease.
“This.Don’tplaydumb,Tucker.You’rebetterthanthat.”
Alaughpopsout.“Fairenough.Allright…”Iwaveahand.“Goon…”
“Ifwedothis,”sherepeats,“it’ssexonly.Noawkwardmorningafter.Nophonenumbers.”
Igiveheronelastcaressbeforereleasingher,lettingherreadintomysilencewhatsheneedsto.Ihighlydoubtthatonetimeisgoingtobeenoughforeitherofus,butifthat’swhatsheneedstobelievetonight,I’mokaywiththat.
“Let’sgothen.”
Herlipscurve.“Now?”
“Now.”Imoistenmybottomlipwithmytongue.“Unlessyouwanttosithereawhilelongerandkeepdancingaroundthefactthatwewanttoripeachother’sclothesoff.”
Sheletsoutathroatylaughthatgoesstraighttomyballs.“Verygoodpoint,Tucker.”
Lord.Ilovethewaymynamerollsoffthosefull,poutylips.MaybeI’llaskhertosayitwhenI’mmakinghercome.
TheneedsurgingthroughmeissostrongIhavetosqueezemyasscheekstogetherandbreathethroughmynosetotrytocurbit.ItakeSabrina’selbowandmusclemywaytothedoor.Afewpeoplecalloutmynameorpatmeonthebacktotellmegoodgame.Iignorethemall.
Outside,it’sstillpouring.IpullSabrinacloseandraisemyblack-and-silverhockeyjacketoverherhead.Fortunately,mytruckisnearby.“Overhere.”
“Niceparkingspot,”shecomments.
“Can’tcomplain.”It’saperkofbeingastarteronachampionship-winningcollegehockeyteam.
Ihelpherintothetruck,thenslideintothedriver’sseatandstarttheengine.“Whereto?”
Sheshiversalittle,thoughI’mnotsureifit’sfromthecoldorforanotherreason.“IliveinBoston.”
“Myplacethen.”Becausethere’snofuckingwayIcanwaitthehourit’lltaketodrivetothecity.Mydickwillexplode.
SheputsherhandonmywristbeforeIcanshiftintoreverse.“YoulivewithDean.That’snotgoingtobeuncomfortableforyou?”
“No,whywouldit?”
“Idon’tknow.”Herindexfingerslidesforwardtorubmyknuckles.
Igritmyteethasmyerectionnearlybreaksthroughthezipper.TheonlyreasonIdidn’tkissherthesecondwewereoutsidethebarisbecauseifI’dstarted,Iprobablywould’vetakenheragainstthesideofthebuilding.Butnowshe’stouchingme,andmyself-controlismoreelusivethanapuffofsteam.
“Let’sdoithere,”shesaysdecisively.
Ifrown.“Inthetruck?”
“Whynot?Doyouneedcandlesandrosepetals?It’sjustsex,”sheinsists
“Darlin’,youkeepsayingthatandI’mgoingtostartwonderingifit’sreallymeyouwanttoconvince.”Mybreathcatcheswhenherthumbstrokesatinycircleinthecenterofmypalm.Fuckit.Ineedhertoobad.“Butfine.Youwanttodomeinthistruck,thenthetruckitis.”
Withoutanotherword,Ireachbeneathmeandpushtheseatbackasfarasitcango.ThenIshrugoutofmyjacketandtossitintothebackseat.
“Yougotanyguidelinesforyourjust-sexhookups?”Idrawl.“Likenokissingonthelips?”
“Hell,no.DoIlooklikeJuliaRoberts?”
Iscrunchupmyeyebrows.
“PrettyWoman?”sheprompts.“Hookerwiththeheartofgold?Nokissingthejohns?”
Igrin.“Sowhatyou’resayingisthatyou’llkissthisJohn?”ItapmychestsosheknowsI’mreferringtomynameandnotimplyingthatshe’sahooker.
Shesnickers.“Ifyoudon’tkissme,I’llbepissed.Ineedkissing.OtherwiseI’djuststayathomewithmyvibe.”
Asmilecreepsacrossmyface.Withmybackagainstthewindowandmybootupontheconsole,Icreateacradleforherhotbodyandbeckonhertowardme.“Thencomeandgetwhatyouneed.”3
Sabrina
Tuckersitstherewithaslightsmileonhisfaceandahugeerectioninhispants.Mytonguesneaksouttowetmylipsasexcitementbuzzesthroughmyveins.God,thatmonsterisgoingtofeelsogoodinsideme.
Mygazefallstohisneatlytrimmedbeard,andIwonder,briefly,whetherIshould’vegivenCarinashotathim.Afterall,beardswereonherbucketlist.ButnowI’mwonderingwhatthatscruffwouldfeellikebetweenmylegs.Soft?Scratchy?Isqueezemythighstogetherinanticipation.
HopeandCarinweresoright.Idoneedtogetlaid,andhockeyplayerornot,IbelieveTuckeristheguyforthejob.Hehasconfidencewithouttheego,whichisthebiggestturn-onever.Whenhe’dsaid“you”inresponsetomyquestionaboutwhathewanted,Inearlycameinmypanties.
Andheseemssteady,asifanearthquakewouldn’tshakehim.IevenadmiredthewayhestuckupforDean,eventhoughIknowtheloyaltyismisplaced.Tuckerhadtohaveknownthatifhe’dliedabouthisfriendshipwithDean,hecould’vestoodabetterchancewithme,buthechosehonesty,whichIvaluemostoutofeverything.
“Needsomedirection?”Hisvoiceislowandgravelly,drawingoutthosesyllables.Dierehhhcshun
SweetJesus,thataccent.
“Justconsideringmyoptions.”Ilovethathe’sjustsittingthere,instructingmetotakewhatIneed.Asifhisbigcockexistsjustforme.
Ican’twait,butIcan’tdecidewhatIwanttodofirst,either.Mymouthwatersatthethoughtofhisshaftdraggingagainstmytongue,butmycoreachesattheanticipationofhimstretchingme,fillingmeallthewayup.
“Whydon’twestartwiththekissingyou’resofondof?”hesuggests.
Imeethishotgaze.“Where?”Iaskcoyly,whichisweird,becauseI’mnevercoy.Butthere’ssomethingaboutthesuretyinhimthatdrawsoutthewomaninme,andIfindIdon’tminditatall.
Hetapsonebigfingeragainsthislowerlip.“Righthere.”
Asseductivelyaspossible,Icrawlovertheconsoleandontohislap,allowingmyheelstodropontothefloorofthetruck.Hismouthpartsininvitation,butIdon’timmediatelypressmylipstohis.
Instead,Irunmyfingertipsacrosshisbeard,fromonesideofhisjawtotheother.“Soft,”Imurmur.
Hiseyesdarkenandgrowsofulloflustthatit’shardtobreathe.Andthenhegrabsme,tiredofwaitingandtiredoftalking.
Ourmouthsslamtogether.HetanglesahandinmyhairandI’mnotsureifit’stogetabetterangleorprovidemoreleveragefortheforceofhisinvasion.Eitherway,histongueismakingmefeelmagicalthingsdownstairs.I’mforgettingwhyIalmostturnedhimdown.
Imean,tall,hot,darkauburnhair,scruffybeard?WhydidIevenhesitate?Oh,that’sright.Becausehe’sahockeyplayer.
Tearingmymouthaway,Ipant,“Justfortherecord,Ihatehockeyplayers.Thisisaone-time-onlydeal.”
Hesweepsmyhairtothesidetoexposemythroat.“Noted.Iwon’tevenremindyouofthiswhenyou’rebeggingmeforasecondround.”
Laughing,Igrabhisheadandholditagainstmeashetongueshiswaydownmythroattothetopsofmybreasts.“Neverhappening.”
“Don’ttieyourselftoabsolutes.Itmakesiteasiertobackaway.Moregraceful.”
Hiswordsaresomewhatmuffledasheburieshisfaceinmycleavage.Acallusedhandpullsatmyshirt,andthenIhearafrustratedgrowlwhenthenecklinedoesn’tlowerenoughtogivehimaccesstowhathewants.
Goodthingourneedsarealigned.Ireachbetweenusandyankmysweateroff,andhismouthlatchesontomynipplebeforeIcangetmybraundone.WhenIreacharoundtoundotheclasp,hishandsbatmineaway.
Mylaughathiseagernessdiesinmythroatashispalmclosesaroundonebarebreast.Iarchintohisroughcaress.Ohgosh,it’sbeenway,waytoolong.AsTucker’smouthgetsbusysuckingononepuckerednipple,hisfingerspinchandteasetheotherone.
He’sgoodatthis.Heknowshowdeeptosuck,howhardtobite,howtendertokiss,anddespitetherodinhispants,heactslikehecoulddothisnipple-suckingdeedallnightlong.
Irockmylowerbodyoverhiserection,fumblingtopushmyskirtoutofthewaysoIcanreallyfeelhim.Iwantitoff,damnit.Iwanthisnakedbodyrubbingagainstmine.Iwanthiminsideme.
Iwantitall.
IfishforthebottomofhisT-shirt.Heoffersmezeroassistance,becausehe’stoointentonmybreastsrightnow.Ifindthehemandpullithard.Onlythendoesheseparatefromme,andthecoolairinthetruckcausesmynipplestotightenevenmore.
“Idon’tneedmoreforeplay,”ItellhimasIdraghisshirtupoverhishead.
OhGod,musclealert.Lotsandlotsoftight,smooth,rippledmusclesglidebeneathmypalms.Gottaloveathletes.
Hishandstunnelundermyskirt.“Isthatright?”
There’snothinggracefulaboutthewayhisfingersshoveasidemythong,andthere’snowarningwhenhethruststwooftheminsideofme.It’sdirtyandsohot.AirwhistlesbetweenmyteethasIinhalesharply.
“Likethat,doyou?”hemurmurs.
“It’sokay,”Ilie,andamimmediatelypunishedwhenhewithdraws.“Fine.Itfeelsgood.”
Hewithdrawsagainanduseshisnowwetfingerstolightlycirclemyclit.Myentirebodystrainsandclenchesandscreamsformore.
“Justgood,huh?”hetaunts.
Igivein.“Great.It’sgreat.”
“Iknow.”Helookssmug.“Ihatetotellyouthis,Sabrina.Butyou’vemadeabigmistake.”
“What?Why?”
Hisfingersdrawmythongtight,thefabriccuttingintomyswollenlips.“BecauseI’mgoingtoruinyouforallfutureguys.Iapologizeinadvance.”
Thenhejerksthefabricasideandslamsthreefingersin.Thegraphicrawnessofitcomesasagiantshock.Icanfeelit—him—everywhere.Evendowntomytoes.Awaveofexcitementcrashesoverme.Holyshit,he’smakingmecome.Isthatevenpossible?
Istareathimopen-mouthed,andhegrinsback,whiteteethagainsthistannedskinandhisbeard,fullyawarehe’sblowingmymind.Hisfingersmoveagain,twoofthemrubbingagainstthatspotthathardlyanyoneeverfindsbutme.
Andhekeepsrubbingitashejackshisfingersinsideme.AndIkeepcoming.IletmyheadfallbackandmyeyelidsfallclosedandIgivemyselfovertothepleasurethatspiralsupandthroughmybodyuntilI’moneshudderingmassofsensation.
WhenIdropbacktoEarth,Ifindmyselflyingagainsthischest,gaspingforair.I’venevercomethishardinmylife,andtheguyhasn’tevenbeeninsidemeyet.Myheartispoundinginsanelyfast,andmysluggishmindishavingahardtimekeepingup.
He’sjustaguy.Anormalguy,Iremindmyself.Onedickandtwoballs.Thisisnothingspecial.
“Ihaven’thadsexinawhile,”Imumbleasmybreathingstartstonormalize.“I’vebeensuperstressed.Mybodyreallyneededarelease.”
Threelongfingersflexinsideme.“Whateveryouneedtotellyourself,darlin’.”
There’ssmugamusementinhisvoice,buttheguyjustfingeredmetoorgasm(whichneverhappenstome),soIguessIcan’tblamehim.Hedragsthepadsofhisfingersalongmysensitivenerveendingsashewithdraws,pullinganotherinvoluntaryshudderoutofme.
Betweenus,hishandrisesandthewetnessshinesonhisfingerseveninthedarkcabofhistruck.I’mnotpreparedfortheshockofarousalthathitsmewhenhesucksthemclean.
Igulp.
Oneswiftjerkofaleverandhisseatfallscompletelyflat.Tuckerliesdownandbeckonsformeagain.“C’mereandfuckmyface.Ineedmoreofthat.”
Oh.My.God.Whoisthisguy?
MaybeIshouldn’thikemyskirtuparoundmywaistandcrawlforward,butIdo.It’slikehe’scastaspellonmeandI’mhelplesstodisobeyhim.
“You’regonnawanttobraceyourself,”herasps,“becauseI’mgoingtomakeyoucomeagain.”
“You’resofuckingcocky.”
“No.I’msure.Andsoareyou.Nowgimmethatsweetpussyandridemytongue.”
Oh,sweetbabyJesus.SexwithTuckerisdirtierandhotterthanIthoughtitwouldbe.Hedoesn’tlooklikehe’dbethisway,butisn’titalwaysthequietones?
Ilikeit,almosttoomuch.
HishotbreathwarmsmyskinasIlowermyselfoverhisface.
“Fuckyeah,”isthelastthinghesaysbeforehismouthlatchesontome.
Hedoesn’tjustusehistongue.Heuseshislips,histeethtoscrapeacrossmyhypersensitiveclit.Onehandisclampedaroundmyhipwhileheusestheothertofingerme.Andhistongue?Helicksmeinlong,sweepingstrokesuntilI’mmufflingsobsagainstmywrist.Thenhepartsmewithtwofingersandholdsmeopenwhilehistonguestabshardinsideme.
He’sright—Idoneedtobracemyself.IgripthesidesoftheseatandthenI’mgone.Hebringsmerighttotheedgeofthecliffandthrowsmeover.
WhileI’mstillshudderingfrommysecondorgasmofthenight,Tuckerliftsmeoffhisfaceanddowntohislapwheresomehowhisdickisfreeofhisjeans.Ireachbetweenusandgrabhim.
“Wait,”hebarks,butit’stoolate.
Isuckinmylowerlipasthebroadheadslowlypenetratesme.Greedily,Ipushdown,wantingtofillmyselfup.Hishandsfindmyhips,andIbreatheoutasighofanticipatorysatisfactiononlytoyelpwithdismaywhenhepushesmeoff
“Condom,”hesaysgrimly.
Iglancedownbetweenusinsurprise.Inevermakethatmistake.Never.Myhandfliestomymouth.“I’msorry.Iwasn’tthinking…”
Hefumblesinhisjeans,findshiswalletandtossesittome.“Nobigdeal.Itwasjustthetip.”
Aslywinkdrawsastartledlaughoutofme.Ibiteopenthefoilandthenpositiontherubberovertheheadofhisshaft.
“I’mclean,”Ifeelcompelledtotellhim.“Igettestedafter…”Itrailoff,feelingliketalkingaboutpasthookupsisbadformwhenI’mnakedandabouttoimpalemyselfonsomeoneelse’sdick.“Well,after.AndI’monthepill.”
“It’sallgoodonmyend,”hesays.HiseyelidsfluttershutforabeatasIrollthecondomdownthethick,hotcolumnofflesh.Alowmoanescapeshismouth,andthenhebrushesmyhandasidetotakeholdofhimself.
“Ready?”heasks,positioningtheheadatmyentrance.
Idon’tknowifInodorwhimperorbeg,butwhateversoundcomesoutofmymouthmustsoundlikeassent,becauseheshovesupwardwithoneswiftmotionuntilhe’sseatedtothehilt.
“Fuck,you’resotight,”hehissesthroughgrittedteeth.
“Andyou’redamnbig,”Icroak,wrigglingaroundontopofhim.
Hegrabsmyhipstoholdmestillandshallowlypumpsintome.“Don’tmove.”
“Can’tstop.”Thefrictionfeelssogood.IfIthoughthisfingersandtongueweremagic,hisdickissupernatural.Icanfeelhimeverywhere
Idigmykneesintotheleatherseatandrestmyhandsonhischest.Themusclesflexbeneathmypalms,andIrakemygazeoverhisridgedabdomen,thelighthaironhischest,andthethinlinethatleadsdirectlydowntoheaven.
He’sasdelicioustolookatashefeels.Iwonderhowhetastes,butthatwillhavetocomelater.Rightnow,IneedhimtofuckmeuntilmyanxietyaboutHarvard,money,andmyhomelifeisdrivenoutcompletely.Iwanttobewreckedandhe’stheperfectmanforthejob.
Islamdownonhim.Aferallookcrosseshisfaceandthenalargepalmclampsagainstmyass.Hepowersupward,findingtheleveragefromsomewhere,andeventhoughI’montop,he’sclearlyincontrol,whichisexactlywhatIwant.
HisteethareclenchedandIfeelthebiteofhisfingersonmyass,pushingmedownwardwitheachthrustforward.Isqueezemythighstightaroundhimandgivemyselfovertohiscare,allowinghimtopowermeintooblivion.
“Comeforme,”hemumbles.“Takewhatyouneed.”
Insideofme,hiscockpulses,andthenhisfingersfindmyclit,strokingandteasingituntilIgoofflikearocket,shakingsohardIcanbarelystayontopofhim.
Tuckerrisespartwaytoclaspmetohischest,poundingintomesohardthatIhavetoraisetremblinghandstothetruck’srooftopreventmyheadfromslammingthroughit.
Hedrivesintome,overandover,untilsuddenlyhe’stheshaky,mindlessmesswhohasahardtimemaintaininganycontrol.Hecollapsesbackagainsttheseat,takingmewithhim.
Iallowmyselfafewselfishmomentstocatchmybreath,luxuriatingagainstthebigchestbeneathme.Tremorsgivewaytocontentment.Apartofmewantstostretchthismomentoutendlessly,curledupinthisguy’slapwhilehishandrunssoothinglyupanddownmyspine.
“Yousureyoudon’twanttocrashatmyplace?”heasks.
Forasecond,Inearlysayyes.Yes,togoingbacktohisplace.Yes,toanotherroundofsex.Yes,tobreakfastinthemorning,skippingwork,andspendingtheentiredayinbedwithhim.Theneedsurprisesandscaresme.
Itakeadeepbreathandgatherupthepiecesofmycomposurethathefuckedintotinybits.“No.Ineedtogethome.”
Justsex
Right.It’sjustsex.JohnTuckerisgoodinbed.Sogoodthatheshouldbegettingatrophy.Butit’snotbetterthanI’vehadbefore.ItonlyfeelsthatwaybecauseofthestressI’munder.OrevenifitwasthebestI’vehad,thatdoesn’tmeananythingotherthanhe’sonemoredatapointintheathletesmakegoodloverstheory.Stamina.World-classfingersandtongue.Adickthatcouldserveasthemodelforthelargeversionsatasexshop.
Irootaroundformyshirtandjacket.Ithrowthemon,notevencaringthatthey’relikelyonbackwards.Ineedtogetoutofthistruckandintomycar.
“I’mready,”Iannounce.“Mycarisonlyacoupleblocksfromhere.”
Hishandsomefeaturessoften.“Youlookalittleshocky.”
Itwistinagitation,buthisexpressionshowsnothingbutconcern.“I’mgood,”Iassurehim.
Tuckersitsupandremovesthecondom,tyingitoffandthendumpingitintoanestofnapkins.Hefingershiskeysforamomentandthenstartsthetruck.“Whereto?”
Iletoutabreathofrelief.“OveronForest.BigVictorian.”
“Gotit.”
Wedrivetheshortdistanceinsilence.Atthefirstglimpseofmycar,theurgetofleeishardtoresist.Ihavethedooropenbeforehecomestoacompletestop.
“Seeyouaround,”Isaylightly.
“I’mwalkingyoutoyourcar.”
Heliftshishipstopullhisjeansup,alertingmetothefactthathe’sstillhalf-naked.Itrynottostareashetuckshissemi-harddickaway.Hecouldgoanotherround,easy.
Mybodypleadsformorecontact,whichIignorebyclimbingoutofthetruck.WhenTuckerjoinsme,hisT-shirtisbackonandhisjeansareridingonhistrimhips,thezipperundone.Hestillhashisbootson.
Agurgleofhysteriashootsintomythroat.Hefuckedmethatgoodandhedidn’teventakehisbootsoff?
“I’llfollowyouhome,”hesays.
“Itoldyou,IliveinBoston.”
Heshrugs.“So?RoadsareshitandIwanttomakesureyougethomeokay.”
“I’llbefine.I’vemadethisrundozensoftimesbefore.”
“Thentextmewhenyougethome.”
“Nophonenumbers,”Iremindhim,feelingweirdlypanicked.
“It’seitherthetextorIfollowyou.”Finalityringsinhisvoice.
FiguresI’dhaveaone-nightstandwiththelastremaininggentlemanonthisplanet.
“Fine.”Ifishmyphoneoutofmycoatpocket.“Butyou’rekillingoffallthegoodfeelings.”
Hislightbrowneyestwinkle.“Shouldn’tmatter,right,becausethisisn’tgoingtoberepeated?”
Hehasafuckinganswerforeverything.“Youshouldbepre-law,”Imutter.“Givemeyournumber.”
Itapitinashereelsitoff,thenunlockmycarandpracticallyhurlmyselfintothedriver’sseat.Thankfully,theengineofmysometimes-unreliableHondastartsimmediately.
Icrackmywindowdownaninchandmurmurahasty,“Night,Tucker,”andherespondswithaquicknod.
Iwatchhimintherearviewmirrorfornearlyablock,alonefigureagainstthemoonlitbackdrop,beforeforcingmygazeforward.That’swheremyfocushastobe.
Thedrivehomepassesbyinablur,though,asmymindreplaysthehotsexsceneonrepeat.Stupidmind.
But…thesexwassogood.Woulditreallyhurttoseehimagain?
Iparkonthecrackedasphaltofthecarportbehindmyhouseandjustsitthereforamoment.ThenIrakeahandthroughmytousledsex-hairandreachformyphone.
Me:I’mhere.
Theresponseisimmediate.
Him:Good.Gladtohearit.Feelfreetousethisnumberagain.
DoIwanttouseit—him—again?It’ssotempting.JohnTuckerwashotashell,fuckedlikeagod,andwassolaidbacknothingseemedtofazehim.Hedidn’taskmeanydifficultquestionsanddidn’tseeminterestedinwantingmorethanIcouldoffer.Howoftendoesaguylikethatcomealong?
Me:I’llkeepthatinmind.
Him:Udothat,darlin’.
Irunathumbovermylip,rememberinghowgooditfeltwhenhekissedme.Argh.MaybeIwillusethatnumberagain.
ExhaustionhitsmethemomentIstepoutofthecar.Ineedsomesleep,STAT.Tomorrow’sgoingtobeaslongandtiringastodaywas,andIcan’tsayI’mlookingforwardtoit.
WhenIstumblethroughthedoor,NanaissittinginthesamespotIlefther.IsuspecttheonlytimeshemovedinthefourorsohoursI’vebeengonewastopeeouttheemptytwo-literCokebottleonthekitchentable.ThebottlewasfullbeforeIleft.There’sadifferentmagazineinfrontofher,though.Ithinkit’stheEnquirer
Shetakesinmydisheveledappearance.“Thoughtyouhadacocktailparty.”Asmirkforms.“Lookslikeyouwereonthemenu.”
Heatfloodsmyface.Yup.NothinglikeawordfromNanatosettheworldbackinorder.
Iignorethejabandheadforthedoorway.“’Night,”Imumble.
“Goodnight,”shereplies,herchucklesfollowingmeintothebedroom.
AfterI’veclosedandlockedthedoor,IpulloutmyphoneandbringupTucker’sname.Foronelongmoment,Istareatit.I’mtemptedtotexthimsomething.Anything.
Instead,Igototheinfoscreenandpress“BLOCK.”
Becausenomatterhowsexyheisorhowmanyorgasmshecanwringoutofme,there’snoplaceinmylifeforasecondroundwithhim.4
Tucker
Thesoundofacarenginerevvingjerksmeawake.It’sstilldarkout,butIcanmakeoutthetiniestsliveroflightonthehorizon,agrayishstripeinablackbackground.Ifliptheleverofmyseatandallowthemechanismtopushmeupright,justintimetoseeasmallHondaCivicpullingoutofSabrinaJames’sdrive.
Blearily,Icheckthetimeonthedash.Foura.m.Ashercardrivespast,Icatchaglimpseofdarkhair,andbeforeIknowit,I’vepulledoutintrafficbehindher.
IfollowedhertoBostonlastnightbecausetheroadswerestillicyandIwasworriedabouther.AndIwasn’tconvincedshewasgoingtotextme.Aftershe’dcomethatlasttime,she’dtotallyshutdown.Itwasobviousthatbeingintimateisn’tsomethingshefeelscomfortablewith.IgotthesenseIcouldsayaboutanyfilthythingIwantedtoherandshe’dbecompletelyfine,butatender,caringwordandshe’djackrabbitoutofthere.
Hell,shealmostjumpedoutofmytruckinherhastetogetaway.Ididn’ttakeitpersonally,though.
IstretchmybackasbestasIcan.Ihaven’tsleptinmytruckforalongtime,andmybody’sremindingmetheexactreasonwhy.Butitwaseithercatchafewzzzsortakeachancedrivingbackontheslickroads.Ichosetosleepinmycab.
Sabrina’scarzipsthroughayellowlightandthentakesasharpleft.BythetimeIcatchup,she’spullingintotheemployeeparkinglotofasouthBostonpostoffice.Asecondlater,shestumblesoutofthedriver’sseatwearingaworkuniform,herlonghairtiedbackinaponytail.
Asmilecurvesacrossmyface.Smokinghot,brightasthesun,andahardworker?Damn.Mymomwouldlovethisgirl.
*
IdrivebacktoHastingswithasilly-assgrinonmyfaceandthrowmyselfonmybedtosleepforthreemeaslyhours.ThenIhoprightbackinthetruckanddrivetocampustomeetupwithmystudygroup,becausewe’vegotabigmarketingtesttomorrow.ThoughI’mnotsurethisninea.m.cramsessionisgoingtohelpmemuchinmygroggystate.Twocupsofcoffeesucceedinwakingmeupabit,andIfeelmuchmorealertwhenthesessionbreaksuparoundeleven.
Ratherthanheadhomerightaway,Igrabathirdcoffeeandpulloutmyphone.It’stimetodoalittledigging,andI’dratherdoitatthecoffeehousethanathomewheremynosyroommatesmightaskquestions.
IknowSabrinahasclasseswithDean,butDean’snotexactlyreliablewhenitcomestoher,soIhituptheonlyotherpoliscimajorIknow—SheenaDrake.She’sanexbutstillagoodfriendofmine.Actually,Ican’tthinkofasingleexI’mnotfriendswith.
Me:WhatdouknowaboutSabrinaJames?
Sheenaanswersrightaway,whichtellsmesheeitherdidn’tpartytoohardlastnight,orshepartiedsohardsheneverwenttobed.
Her:Ugh.Hateher.
Ifrownatthescreen.
Me:Why?
Her:b/cshe’shotterthanme.Bitch.
Myloudsnortdrawstheattentionofthetrioofstudentsattheneighboringtable.AnothertextfromSheenapopsup.
Her:Butshe’shotterthanEVERYONE.SoIguessIcan’tbmad?Whyruaskingabouther?
Me:Ranintoherlastnight.Sheseemedcool.
Her:Iwouldn’tknow.Got2classesw/herbutshe’snottoochatty.Supersmart,tho.Rumorissheonlyhooksupw/jocks.
IsipmycoffeeasIponderthat.Guessitmakessense,seeingasshehookedupwithmelastnight.MyphonebuzzeswithanothermessagefromSheena.
Ucrushingonher?
ConsideringIhadmytongue,mouth,fingersanddickalloverherlastnight,IthinkImightbepastcrushing.ButIjusttype,Maybe.
Her:Usoare!!!Tellmeeverything!!!
Me:Nothing2tell.CUinEcontmrw?
Her:Yup.
Me:K.Thx,babe.
Her:<3
IscrollthroughmycontactlistinsearchofanyoneelsewhomightknowSabrina,butonlyonenamepopsoutatme.Hell,it’sprobablythepersonIshould’vespokentofirst.
Igulpdowntherestofmycoffee,thenheadforthedoor.Ishootoffaquicktext,butthere’snoinsta-response,soinsteadofwaitingIsendanothermessage,thistimetoOllieJankowitz,theroommateoftheguyI’mtryingtotrackdown.
Me:UwithBeau?
Him:Negative.
Me:Knowwherehe’sat?
Him:Gym.
Well,thatwaseasy.
Ileavemytruckinthestudentlotanddecidetomakethetrekonfoot,sincethefootballstadiumisonlyashortwalkfromthecoffeehouse.MyBriarhockeyIDdoesn’tgivemeaccesstothetrainingfacility,butluckilyIreachthedooratthesametimeasasophomorelineman,wholetsmein.
IfindBeauMaxwellintheweightroom,workingonhischestandarms.BeauisBriar’sbelovedquarterback,and,asfarasIknow,thelastguywho’dheldSabrina’sinterestforanysignificantperiodoftime.
He’safriendofmine,closertoDeanthananyofus,butwe’restillbuddiesandI’dratherhehearthatI’mchasingafterSabrinafrommethanthegossipmill.Athletesspendasmuchtimeasanyonetalkingabouthookups,girlfriends,andfuturelays.
“Maxwell,”IcallasIcrosstheroom,whichsmellslikesweatandindustrialcleaningsupplies.“Gotaminute?”
Beaudoesn’tlookawayfromthemirror.“Sure.I’mgonnadobenchpressesinasec.Youcanspotme.”
“Soundslikeaplan.”Itakeaseatonthebenchnexttohimandmentallycounthisrepsashedoesthem.Atten,hedropsthefifty-poundkettlebellandturnstome.
“I’mdoinglightweights,doublereps,”heexplains,feelingtheneedtojustifythetwo-fiftyweightonthebarbell.
“Shouldyouevenbeliftinganythingatall?”Idon’tknowmuchaboutthequarterbackposition,butitseemstomethatanyextramusclecouldaffecthisthrowingarm.
“Lightweightsonly,”hereiterates.
Asheliesbackandreachesabovehim,Imovetotheheadofthebench.Withtheseweights,Idoubthecouldhurthimself,sothespotterpositionissortofunnecessary.Butitgivesmesomethingtodowhilewetalk.
“HeardyouhookedupwithSabrinaJamesthisfall,”Istartawkwardly.“Youstillholdingatorchforher?”
Beautiltshisheadbackwardsohecanstareatme.He’sgotvividblueeyesthatI’mprettysurehalfthechicksatBriarhavegottenlostin.Orhavedreamedaboutgettinglostin.
“Naah,notorchhere,”hefinallyanswers.“Why?Youaimingtotapthat?”
Alreadyhave,dude.ButIrepeatwhatItoldSheena.“Maybe.”
“Gotcha.Well,ifyou’relookingformorethanahookup,she’snotyourgirl.”
“Yeah?”
“Ohyeah.Seriously,Tuck,she’sclosedtighterthanaclam.Shedoesn’thavetime.”Beauwrinkleshisforehead.“She’sgotlikefourorfivejobsandyouhavetofitinonherschedule.Likeadoctoroncall.”
“That’sgoodtoknow.”
Hefinishesouthisrepsinsilence.Whenhe’sdone,hepushesupright,andItosshimabottleofwaterIfindnexttothebench.
“Needanymorehelp?”Iask.
“Naah,Igotit.”
“Seeyouaroundthen.”Itakeastep,thenglanceoverathimagain.“Domeafavorandkeepthisconvobetweenus?”
Henods.“Gotcha.”
I’mattheexitdoorwhenBeaucallsouttome.
“Hey,whatifIsaidIwasstillinterested?”
Iturnaroundtomeethiseyes.“That’dbetoobad.”
Beauchuckles.“Ithoughtso.Well,morepowertoyou,dude,butI’mwarningyou—thereareeasierwomenthanSabrina.”
“WhywouldIwantsomeoneeasy?”Iflashhimagrin.“Thatdoesn’tsoundlikeanyfun.”5
Sabrina
I’mhavingoneofthosedays.ThekindofdaywhereI’mlivinginacartoonandI’mtheRoadRunner,speedingfromoneplacetoanotherwithoutasingleopportunitytositdownorbreathe.
Well,technicallyIdoalotofsittinginmymorningclasses,butit’snotrelaxingatall,becausewe’regearingupforourconlawpaperswhichmakeuptheentiretyofmygrade,andIstupidlychoseoneofthehardesttopics—thedifferinglegalstandardsappliedtoexaminetheconstitutionalityoflaws.
BreakfastconsistsofacheesecroissantthatIscarfdownonthewayfromAdvancedPoliticalTheorytoMediaandGovernment.AndIdon’tevengettofinishit,becauseinmyhasteItriponthecobblestonepaththatwindsthroughcampusandendupdroppingthecroissantinapuddleofslush.
MystomachgrowlsangrilyduringtheMedialecture,thengetslouderandangrierwhenImeetwithmyadvisortotalkfinances.Ididn’tfindanyacceptancelettersinmymailboxthismorning,butIhavetobelievethatIatleastgotintooneoftheprogramsIappliedto.Andeventhesecondtierschoolswillcostaprettypenny,whichmeansIneedascholarship.IfIdon’tgetintoatoplawschool,there’llbenoBigLawjobofferwithitsBigLawpaycheck,andthatmeanscrushing,demoralizing,endlessdebt.
Afterthemeeting,Ihaveaone-hourtutorialformyGameTheoryclass.It’srunbytheTA,askinnyguywithAlbertEinsteinhairandtheannoying,pretentioushabitofincorporatingREALLYBIGWORDSineverysentenceheutters.
I’manintelligentperson,buteverytimeI’maroundthisguy,I’msecretlylookingupwordsonmyphone’sdictionaryappunderthetable.There’sreallynoreasonforapersontousethewordparsimoniouswhentheycanjustsayfrugal—unlessthey’reatotaldouche,ofcourse.ButStevethinksofhimselfasabigshot.Thoughrumorhasit,he’sstillaTAbecausehe’sfailed—twice—todefendhisdissertationandcan’tgetanassociateprofessorshipanywhere.
Oncethemeetingwrapsup,Ishovemylaptopandnotebookinmymessengerbagandmakeabeelineforthedoor.
I’msohungrythatI’mfeelinglight-headed.Fortunately,there’sasandwichplaceinthelobbyofthebuilding.Iflyoutthedoor,onlytoskidtoastopwhenafamiliarfacegreetsme.
Myheartsomersaultssohardit’sembarrassing.I’vespentthelastdayandahalfforcingmyselfnottothinkaboutthisguy,andnowhe’sstandinghere,intheflesh.
Mygazeeatshimupeagerly.He’swearinghishockeyjacketagain.Hisauburnhairiswindblown,cheeksruddyasifhe’djustcomeinfromthecold.Fadedbluejeansencasehisimpossiblylonglegs,andhe’sgothishandshookedlightlyinthetopsofhispockets.
“Tucker,”Isqueak.
Hislipsquirkup.“Sabrina.”
“W-whatareyoudoinghere?”OhmyGod.I’mstuttering.What’swrongwithme?
Someonejostlesmefrombehind.Ihastilystepawayfromthedoorwaytolettheotherstudentsout.I’mnotsurewhattosay,butIknowwhatIwanttodo.Iwanttothrowmyselfatthisguy,wrapmyarmsaroundhisneck,mylegsaroundhiswaist,andmaulhimwithmymouth.
ButIdon’t.
“You’reignoringmytexts,”hesaysfrankly.
Guiltticklesmythroat.I’mnotignoringhistexts—Ihaven’tgottenthem.BecauseIblockedhisnumber.
Still,myheartdoesanothersillyflipattheknowledgethathe’sbeentexting.IsuddenlywishIknewwhathe’dsaid,butI’mnotgoingtoaskhim.That’sjustlookingfortrouble.
Forsomestupidreason,though,Ifindmyselfconfessing,“Iblockedyou.”
Ratherthanlookoffended,hechuckles.“Yeah.Ifiguredyoumight’ve.That’swhyItrackedyoudown.”
Inarrowmyeyes.“Andhowdidyoudothat,exactly?How’dyouknowI’dbehere?”
“Iaskedmyadvisorforyourschedule.”
Myjawfallsopen.“Andshegaveittoyou?”
“He,actually.Andyep,hewashappytodoit.”
Disbeliefandindignationmingleinmyblood.Whatthehell?Thefacultycan’tjusthandoutstudents’schedulestoanyonewhoasksforthem,right?That’saviolationofprivacy.IgritmyteethanddecidethatthemomentIpassthebar,myfirstorderoflegalbusinesswillbesuingthisstupidcollege.
“Didhegiveyoumytranscripttoo?”Imutter.
“No.Anddon’tworry,I’msureyourscheduleisn’tbeingpassedaroundinflier-formaroundcampus.HeonlygaveittomebecauseIplayhockey.”
“That’ssupposedtomakemefeelbetter?Thereminderthatyou’reaprivilegedjackasswhogetsspecialtreatmentbecauseyouskatearoundontheiceandwintrophies?”
Itakeoffwalking,mypacebrisk,buthe’sbigenoughthathisstrideseatupthegroundandhe’sbesidemeinaheartbeat.
“I’msorry.”Hesoundsgenuinelyregretful.“Ifithelps,Idon’tnormallyplaytheathletecardtogetfavors.Hell,Icould’veaskedDeanforyourschedule,butIfiguredyou’dlikethatevenless.”
He’srightaboutthat.ThethoughtofTuckertalkingtoDeanDiLaurentisaboutmemakesmyskincrawl.
“Fine.Well,youtrackedmedown.Whatdoyouwant,Tucker?”Iwalkfaster.
“What’sthehurry,darlin’?”
“Mylife,”Imumble.
“What?”
“I’malwaysinahurry,”Iclarify.“I’vegottwentyminutestogetsomefoodinmebeforemynextclass.”
Wereachthelobby,whereIinstantlygetinlineatthesandwichstand,scanningthemenuonthewall.ThestudentinfrontofusleavesthecounterbeforeTuckercanspeak.Ihurriedlystepforwardtoplacemyorder.WhenIreachintomybagformywallet,Tucker’shanddropsovermine.
“I’vegotthis,”hesays,alreadydrawingatwenty-dollarbillfromhisbrownleatherwallet.
Idon’tknowwhy,butthatannoysmeevenmore.“FirstdrinksatMalone’s,andnowlunch?What,you’retryingtoshowoff?MakingsureIknowyou’vegotcashtospare?”
Hurtflickersinhisdeepbrowneyes.
Fuck.Idon’tknowwhyI’mantagonizinghim.It’sjust…himshowinguphere,admittinghepulledfavorstofindme,payingformylunch…
Itwassupposedtobeaone-timething,andnowhe’sinmyfaceandIdon’tlikeit.
No,that’snottrue.Ilovehavinghisfacenearmine.He’ssosexy,andhesmellssogood,likesandalwoodandcitrus.IwanttoburymynoseinthestrongcolumnofhisneckandinhalehimuntilIgetacontacthigh.
Butthere’snotimeforthat.Timeisaconceptthatdoesn’texistinmylife,andJohnTuckeristoobigadistraction.
“I’mpayingforyourlunchbecausethat’sthewaymymamaraisedme,”hesaysquietly.“Callmeold-fashionedifyouwant,butthat’showIroll.”
Igulpdownanotherrushofguilt.“I’msorry.”Myvoiceshakesslightly.“Thankyouforlunch.Iappreciateit.”
Weedgetotheotherendofthecounter,waitinginsilenceasacurly-hairedgirlpreparesmyhamandSwisssandwich.Shewrapsitupforme,andItuckitundermyarmwhileuncappingtheDietCokeI’dordered.Thenwe’reonthemoveagain.Tuckerfollowsmeoutthedoor,watchinginamusementasItrytojugglemydrinkandmessengerbagandunwrapmysandwichatthesametime.
“Letmeholdthisforyou.”Hetakesthebottlefrommyhand.There’sagentlenessonhisfaceashewatchesmesinkmyteethintothelightlytoastedryebread.
IbarelychewbeforeI’mtakingasecondbite,whichmakeshimlaugh.“Hungry?”heteases.
“Famished,”Iadmit,andIdon’tevencarethatI’mbeingrudebytalkingwithmymouthfull.
Iquicklydescendthewidesteps.Again,hekeepsupwithme.
“Youshouldn’teatwhileyouwalk,”headvises.
“Notime.Mynextclassisallthewayacrosscampus,so—hey!”Iexclaimwhenhetakesmyarmanddragsmeawayfromthepath.“Whatareyoudoing?”
Ignoringmyprotests,heleadsmetooneofthewrought-ironbenchesonthelawn.Ithasn’tsnowedyetthiswinter,butthegrassiscoveredwithasilverlayeroffrost.Tuckerforcesmetosit,thendropsdownbesidemeandplantsonehandonmyknee,asifhe’safraidImightbolt.WhichIwastotallyconsideringdoingbeforethatbighandmadecontact.Theheatofitsearsthroughmytightsandwarmsmycore.
“Eat,”hesaysgently.“You’reallowedtogiveyourselftwominutestorecharge,darlin’.”
Ifindmyselfobeying,samewayIobeyedtheothernightwhenhetoldmetoridehisface,whenheorderedmetocome.Ashivershimmiesupmyspine.God,whycan’tIgetthisguyoutofmyhead?
“Whatdidyoutextme?”Iblurtout.
Hegivesamysterioussmile.“Guessyou’llneverknow.”
Despitemyself,Ismileback.“Itwassomethingsexy,wasn’tit?”
Hewhistlesinnocently.
“Itwas!”Iaccuse,andthenexperienceajoltofself-directedrecrimination,because,damnit,Ibetitwasfilthyanddeliciousandwonderful.
“Listen,I’mnotgoingtotakeupmuchofyourtime,”hesays.“Iknowyou’rebusy.IknowyoucommutefromBoston.Iknowyouhaveafewjobs—”
“Two,”Icorrect.Myheadtipsinchallenge.“Andhowwouldyouknowthat?”
Heshrugs.“I’vebeenaskingaround.”
Hehas?Crap.Asflatteringasthatis,I’mkindofscaredtoknowwhohe’sbeenaskingandwhatthey’vebeentellinghim.AsidefromHopeandCarin,Idon’tspendmuchtimewithmypeers.IknowIcomeoffasaloofattimes—
Fine,bitchy.Aloofisjustanicewordforbitchy.AndwhileI’mnotthrilledthatmyclassmatesthinkI’mabitch,there’snotmuchIcandoaboutthat.Idon’thavethetimeorenergytomakesmalltalk,ortograbcoffeeafterclass,ortopretendthatIhaveanythingincommonwiththewealthy,elitistkidsthatcomprisemostofthiscollege.
“Thepoint,”hefinishes,“isthatIgetit,okay?You’reswamped,andI’mnotaskingyoutowearmyvarsityjacketandmyclassringandbemysteadygirl.”
IhavetolaughatthePleasantvillepicturehe’spainted.“Thenwhatareyouaskingme?”
“Foradate,”hesayssimply.“Onedate.Maybeit’llendwithusfuckingagain—”
Mybodysingsindelight.
“—ormaybeitwon’t.Eitherway,Iwannaseeyouagain.”
Iwatchasherakesahandthroughhisreddishhair.Damn,whowould’vethoughtthatgingerscouldbesohot?
“Idon’tcarewhen.Youwanttogrababitelateatnight,fine.Earlyinthemorning,cool,aslongasIdon’thavepractice.I’mwillingtoplaybyyourrules,adapttoyourschedule.”
Pleasureandsuspicionwarinsideme,butthelatterwinsout.“Why?Imean,Iknowwerockedeachother’sworlds,butwhyareyousoharduponseeingmeagain?”
Igulpwhenhefixesmewithasteady,intensegaze.Thenhefreaksmeoutevenmorebyasking,“Doyoubelieveinloveatfirstsight?”
OhmyfuckingGod.
Istarttoshoottomyfeet.
Hetugsmebackontothebenchwithadeepchuckle.“Chill,Sabrina.I’mnotsayingI’minlovewithyou.”
He’dbetternotbe!Takingacalmingbreath,Isetmyhalf-eatensandwichonmylapandtrytomusterupatonethatdoesn’tconveythescared-shitlessfeelingracingthroughme.“Thenwhatareyousaying?”
“I’dseenyouaroundcampusbeforethenightatMalone’s,”headmits.“Andyeah,Ithoughtyouwerehot,butit’snotlikeIwasdesperatetofindoutwhoyouwere.”
“Gee,thanks.”
“Makeupyourmind,darlin’.Doyouwantmetobeinfatuatedwithyou,ordoyouwantmetonotgiveashit?”
Both!Iwantboth,andthat’stheproblem,damnit.
“Anyway,I’dseenyoubefore.Butthenightatthebar,whenwemadeeyecontactfromacrosstheroom?Somethingmagicalhappened,”hesaysbluntly.“Iknowyoufeltittoo.”
Ipickupmysandwichandtakeasmallbite,chewingextraslowinordertodelayhavingtorespond.He’sfreakingmeoutagain,withhisconfidentgazeandhismatter-of-facttone.I’venevermetaguywhocanthrowoutphraseslike“loveatfirstsight”and“somethingmagicalhappened”withoutatleasthavingthedecencytoblushorlookmortified.
Finally,Iforcemyselftoanswerhim.“Theonlymagicalthingthathappenedwasthatwelikedwhatwesaw.Pheromones,Tucker.Nothingmore.”
“Thatwaspartofit,”heagrees.“Buttherewasmoretoitthanthat,andyouknowit.Therewasaconnectionthemomentwelookedateachother.”
IraisemyDietCoketomylipsandchugnearlyhalfofit.
“Iwanttoexploreit.Ithinkwe’dbestupidnotto.”
“AndIthink…”Istruggleforwords.“Ithink…”
Ithinkyou’rethemostfascinatingguyI’veevermet.
Ithinkyou’reamazinginbedandIwanttofuckyouagain.
IthinkifIwascapableofhavingmyheartbroken,you’dhavethepowertobreakit.
“IthinkImademyselfclearthatnight,”Ifinish.“I’mnotinthemarketforarelationship,orevenafuckbuddy.Iwantedsex.Yougaveittome.That’sallitwas.”
Idon’tmissthedisappointmentthatfloodshiseyes.Itbringsapangofregretandmakesmystomachtwistpainfully,butI’vealreadysetthiscourseandnowIneedtoseeitthrough.I’mverygoodatstayingthecourse.
“Iknowyouathletesarestubbornashellandthatyoudon’tgiveupwhenyouwantsomething,but…”Itakeabreath.“I’maskingyoutogiveup.”
Hisjawtightens.“Sabrina—”
“Please.”Icringeatthedesperatenoteinmyvoice.“Justgiveup,allright?Idon’twanttostartanythingup.Idon’twanttogoonadate.Iwant…”Iriseonwobblylegs.“Iwanttogettoclass,that’sall.”
Afteraninterminablylongsilence,hegetsuptoo.“Sure,darlin’.Ifthat’swhatyouwant.”
It’snotataunt,nordoesitcontainevenahintofpromise,asinsure,darlin’,I’llgiveup—fornow.ButexpectmetokeepchasingyouuntilIwearyoudown
No,there’safinalitytohiswordsthatmakesmesad.JohnTuckerisclearlyamanofhisword,andwhileIoughttoadmirethat,I’vesuddenlybecomeahypocrite,becausenowI’mtheonefeelingdisappointed.
“I’llseeyouaround,”hesaysgruffly.
Andthenhestridesoffwithoutanotherword,leavingmetostareafterhimindismay.
Ididtherightthing.IknowIdid.EvenifIhadoodlesoffreetimetopursuesomethingwithhim,there’snoroominmylifeforsomeonelikeTucker.He’ssweetandearnestandclearlyhasmoney,whereasI’mbitchyandstressedandliveinthegutter.Hecantalkallhewantsaboutconnectionsatfirstsight,butthatdoesn’tchangetherealityofthis.
I’mnotthegirlforJohnTucker,andIneverwillbe.6
Tucker
Practiceisshit.Theteam’sjustnotclickingthisseason,andCoachJensenisridingusmercilesslynowthatwe’vegotafewlossestarnishingourrecord.Yesterday’slossbummedusoutprettyhard—wewereupagainstaDivisionIIteamwhoshouldnothavewipedourassesallovertheicelikethat.
Thenewdefensivecoach,FrankO’Shea,isonlymakingthingsworse.I’vebeenthankingmyluckystarsthatI’mnotadefenseman.O’SheaseemstohaveavendettaagainstDean,constantlycallinghimoutandharpingonhismistakes.
Dean’scheeksgoredderthanappleseverytimeO’Sheaopenshismouth.AccordingtoLogan,themanusedtobetheheadcoachatDean’sprepschool.Theyobviouslyhaveapast,butwhateveritis,Dean’snotsharing.Buthe’snothappy,either.Notonlyarethed-menconstantlyorderedtostaylate,butapparentlyDeangotforcedintocoachingthekiddieteamattheelementaryschoolintown.
Iskatetothebenchaftermyshiftandheavemyselfoverthewall,thensquirtsomewaterinmymouthandwatchGarrett’slineflyacrosstheblueline.Today’sscrimmageisnon-scoringsofar.Seriously,that’showbadwesuck.Wecan’tevenscoreoneachotherduringpractice,andit’snotbecauseourgoaliesareintopform—noneoftheforwardscangettheirshittogether,myselfincluded.
Awhistleblows.Coachstartsscreamingatoneofourjuniord-menforicingthepuck.
“Whatthehellwasthat,Kelvin!Youhadfourpassingopportunitiesandyoudecidetoicethefuckingthing!”Coachlooksreadytopullhishairout.
Idon’tblamehim.
“Icould’vemadethatpassifIwasoutthere,”Deangrumblesbesideme.
Iglanceoverinsympathy.OneofO’Shea’sfirstordersofbusinesshadbeentorearrangethelines.He’dpairedDeanupwithBrodowski,andLoganwithKelvin,whenweallknowthatLoganandDeanareunstoppabletogether.
“I’msureO’Sheawillrealizehismistakesoon.”
“Yeahright.Thisispunishment.Themotherfuckerhatesme.”
Mycuriosityisonceagainpiqued.“Why’sthatagain?”
Dean’sexpressiongoescloudier.“Don’tworryaboutit.”
“Notsureifyouknowthis,”Isaypleasantly,“butsecretskillfriendships.”
Thatmakeshimsnicker.“Youreallywanttotalktomeaboutsecrets?Wherethefuckwereyouallweekend?”
Iinstantlyshuttermyexpression.I’mcoolconfidinginmyfriendsaboutmylovelife,butIdon’twanttodiscussSabrinawithDean,especiallywhenIknowhisopinionofher.Besides,whatthefuckistheretotalkabout,anyway?Sheshotmedown.Iaskedheroutandsheflat-outtoldmeno,itwasnevergonnahappen.
IfIthoughttherewaseventheslightestchancethatshewantedmetochaseafterher,maybeIwouldn’thavetakennoforananswer.MaybeIwould’veshownupafterherclassesafewmoretimes,boughtheracouplemoresandwiches,wooedherwithmycharmandworkedthesouthernaccentwheneverIfeltherdrawingaway.
ButIsawthelookinhereyes.Shemeantwhatshesaid—shedoesn’twanttoseemeagain.AndalthoughIhavenoproblembeingthepursuer,I’mnotgoingtochaseaftersomeonewho’snotinterested.
Still,itfuckingsucksballs.Whenweweresittingonthatbenchtheotherday,Iwantednothingmorethantopullherontomylapandfuckherrightthere,andtohellwithanyonewalkingby.TheDeanhimselfcould’vebeenstandingtheretappinghiswatchandIstillwouldn’thavestopped.Ithadtakenallmywillpowertosuppresstheprimalurges,butman,somethingaboutthatgirl…
It’snotjustherbeauty,thoughthatdoesn’thurtatall.It’s…it’s…damn,Ican’tevenputitintowords.She’sgotthishardexterior,butinsideshe’sassoftasbutter.IseeflashesofvulnerabilityinherbottomlessdarkeyesandIjustwantto…takecareofher.
TheguyswouldlaughiftheyknewwhatIwasthinkingrightnow.Orhell,maybetheywouldn’t.Theyalreadyragmedailyathomeaboutmy“nurturing”side.I’mourresidentcook,domostofthecleaning,makesureshitaroundthehouseisinworkingorder.
That’showmymomraisedme,though.Ididn’thaveadad.HediedwhenIwasthreeandIbarelyrememberhim.ButMommorethanmadeupforhimnotbeingthere,andthefatherfigureIwaslackingcameintheformofmyhockeycoaches.
Texasisafootballstate.Iprobablywould’vegonethatrouteifitweren’tforavacationwetooktoWisconsinwhenIwasfive.Onceayear,MomandIwouldvisitmydad’ssisterinGreenBay.Oratleastwetriedto.Sometimesmoneywouldn’tallowit,butwedidourbest.
Duringthatvisit,AuntNancybundledmeupandtookmeskating.It’sgoddamncoldinGreenBay—Iimaginethat’smostpeople’sworstnightmare,butIlovedthechillonmycheeks,thefrigidairhissingpastmyearsasIskatedonthatoutdoorpond.Afewolderkidshadagameofhockeygoing,andIgotathrillwatchingthemwhizacrossthepond.Itlookedlikesomuchfun.WhenMomandIgotbacktoTexasthefollowingweek,IannouncedthatIwantedtoplayhockey.She’dlaughedindulgently,buthumoredme,findingayear-roundrinkanhourfromhome.
IthinkshethoughtIwouldgrowoutofit.Instead,Igrewtoloveitevenmore.
NowI’mhere,atanEastCoastIvyLeaguecollege,playinghockeyforateamthat’swonthreenationalchampionships—consecutively.ButIhaveafeelingtherewon’tbeafourth,notthewaywe’replayinglately.
“What,you’veforgottenhowtotalk?”
IlookoverandfindDeanwatchingmewithawaryexpression.What?Oh,right,hewantstoknowwhatIwasuptothisweekend.
“Justhangingwithsomefriends,”Isayvaguely.
“Whatfriends?Allyourfriendsarehere—”Hewavesahandaroundtherink.“AndIknowforafactyouweren’twithanyofthem.”
Ishrug.“Youdon’tknowthesefriends.”ThenIshiftmygazebacktotheiceasDeangrumblesbesideme.
“Jesusfuck,you’reworsethanAntoineandMarie-Thérèse.”
Myheadswingsback.“Excuseme?”
“Forgetit,”hemutters.
WhothefuckareAntoineandMarie-Thérèse?JustlikeDeanknowsallmyfriends,Iknowallofhis,andI’mprettysurewedon’tknowanyonewiththosenames.Butwhatever.Idon’twanthimpushingmeforanswers,soI’mnotabouttopushhim.
“Fuckyeah!”avoiceyellsfromtheotherendofthebench.
IrefocusontheiceintimetoseeGarrettslapabulletpastPatrick,ourseniorgoalie.It’sthefirstandonlygoalofthescrimmage,andalltheguysonthebenchthumptheirglovesagainstthewallincelebration.
Coachblowshiswhistleanddismissesus,soweendthepracticeonagoodnote.Sortof.Thed-menareaskedtostaybehindasusual,andIdon’tmissthefrustrationinDean’sandLogan’seyes.O’Shea’sgonnaneedtolightenupifhewantstowintherespectofthisteam.
Inthelockerroom,Istripoutofmysweatyjerseyandpadsanddropmyhockeypantsonthegleamingfloor.We’vegotastate-of-the-artfacilityhere.Theroomishuge,thelockersarepaddedleather,andtheventilationsystemistop-notch.Itonlyslightlysmellslikeoldsocksinhere.
Garrettcomesupbesidemeandwhipsoffhishelmet.Hisdarkhairisdampwithsweatandstickingtohisforehead.Ashereachesuptosmoothhishairaway,Iglanceatthebadassflamestattooedonhisbiceps.ItalwaysmakesmethinkIwanttogetinkedmyself,butthenIrememberthetravestyonHollis’legthathegotafterourfirstFrozenFourwin.Threeyearslater,andhestillwearslongsockstocoveritupmostofthetime.
“Thinkwe’lleverrememberhowtoplayhockeyagain?”hesayswryly.
Isnort.“Season’sjuststarted.We’llbefine.”
Hedoesn’tseemconvinced.NeitherdoesHunterDavenport,wholumbersoverwithasourlook.
“Wekeepgettingworse,”thefreshmangrowls,andthen,ineighteen-year-oldfashion,hurlsonegloveagainstthewall.
IquicklyglancearoundandsighinreliefwhenIdon’tspotCoach.Themanwouldshitabrickifhesawoneofusthrowingatempertantruminthelockerroom.
“Chillax,kid,”MikeHollis,ajunior,tellsHunter.He’sbare-chestedandintheprocessofundoinghispants.“Whocaresifweloseascrimmageinpractice?”
“It’snotaboutthescrimmage,”Huntersnaps.“It’sthatwesuck.”
Hollistipshishead.“Yougotlaidlastnight,didn’tya?”
Thedark-hairedfreshmanfurrowshisbrow.“Whatdoesthathavetodowithanything?”
“Everything.Weembarrassedourselvesinthatgame,gotourasseskicked,andyoustillhadchickslininguptosuckonyourknob.Doesn’tmatterifwewinorlose—we’restillhockeyplayers.Werulethisschool,dude.”
“Spokenlikeamanwithoutambition,”Garrettsays,hislipstwitching.
Hollisshrugs.“Hey,notallofushaveahard-onfortheproslikeyoudo.Someofusarehappydoingthisforthepussy.”
Aheavysighsoundsfromtheendofthelongbenchspanningourlockers.Colin“Fitzy”Fitzgerald,anenormousjuniorwithscruffyhairandmoretatsthanabiker,sauntersoverandsmacksHollisontheass.
“Doyouevernottalkaboutpussy?”Fitzyasks.
“WhywouldItalkaboutanythingelse?Pussy’sgreat.”
He’srightaboutthat.Unfortunately,Iwon’tgettoexperienceanygreatpussyforatleast…oh,amonth?Two?I’mnotsurehowlongit’lltakemycocktoforgetaboutSabrinaJames.IfIhookedupwithanyoneelserightnow,I’donlybecomparinghertoSabrina,andthat’snotfairtoanyoneinvolved.
“Ohhey,”Hollissayssuddenly.“Speakingofpussy…”
Garrettrollshiseyes.Hard.
“I’mhittingupBostonthisweekend,”Holliscontinues.“Crashingatmybrother’splace.Youguyswanttocomewith?Barhopping,afewclubs,hotgirls.It’llbeagoodtime.”
Ourteamcaptainfrowns.“We’vegotagameonSaturday.”
Holliswavesahand.“We’llbebackintime.”
“You’dbetterbe.”Garrettshrugs.“ButIcan’tgoanyway.Gotplanswithmygirlthisweekend.”Hisfacetakesonafarawayexpression,amixtureofwonderandpurebliss,beforehesauntersofftowardtheshowerarea.
Itampdowntheenvythatrisesinmythroat.Garrett’sbeenwithHannahforayearnow,anditdoesn’tseemlikethatnewloveglowisevergoingtowearoff.He’ssoinlovewithhisgirlfriendthatit’salmostdisgusting.DittoforLogan,whorecentlygotbacktogetherwithhisgirlfriendGraceandprofessedhisloveforherontheradio.
Itfeelsabit…wrong,Iguess,thatthetwobiggestplayersIknowhavesettleddown.Outofallofus,I’mtheguywho’sintoallthatcommitmentstuff.WhenIfirstcametoBriar,IfiguredI’dmeetthewomanofmydreams—theone—duringfreshmanorientation,dateherforthenextfouryears,andproposeaftergraduation.Butitdidn’tturnoutthatwayatall.I’vedatedlotsofgirls,sleptwithalotofthemtoo,butnoneofthemweretheone
Meanwhile,GarrettandLoganfoundtheironeswhentheyweren’tevenlookingforthem,thoseluckybastards.
“Tuck?”Hollisencourages.“Boston?Dudeweekend?Youin?”
Myfirstinclinationistosayno,butmymindtripsoverthewordBoston.IknowSabrinasaidshedidn’twanttoseemeagain,but…wouldshereallytellmetogetlostifwehappenedtorunintoeachotherinthecity?Imean,shelivesthere,andIhappentoknowheraddress,so…whoknows,right?MaybeastellarYelpreviewwilltaketheguysandmetosomeamazingbarinherneighborhood.Maybewe’llbumpintoeachother.Maybe—
Maybeyou’returningintoastalker?
Istifleasigh.Fine,mymind’sdefinitelytreadingintoStrangerDanger!territory.Butevenknowingthat,Ican’tstopmyselffromsaying,“Sure,I’min.Wouldn’tmindcatchingaBruinsgameatasportsbarorsomething.”
“Metoo,”Fitzydecides.“Iwanttopopintothisgamingstoredowntown.They’vegotarole-playinggametherethatIcan’tfindanywhereonline.I’llhavetosuckitupandspendsomeactualmoney.”
Hollis’horrifiedgazetravelsfrommetoFitz.“ABruinsgame?Agamingstore?HowamIfriendswithyoutwo?”
Iarchabrow.“You’dratherwebail?”
“No.”Heheavesasigh.“Butatleasttrytopretendyou’reinitforthepussy.”
Isnickerandpathimontheshoulder.“Ifthatmakesyoufeelbetter,thensure.FitzyandIare—”
IlookatFitz,promptinghimwithmyhand.
“—initforthepussy,”wefinishinunison.7
Sabrina
I’mdraggingbythetimeIarrivehomefromBriar.
Ican’tdecidewhatIhatemore—theweekends,whenI’mattheclubuntiltwoorthreeinthemorningandthenhavetosortmailandpackagesfromfouruntileleven.Ortheweekdays,whenIeitherhaveclassesinthemorningandthepostofficeafterward?oranungodlyearlypostofficeshiftfollowedbyclasses.Todaywasthelatter,soI’mdead-asstiredasIdropmybackpackonthehallfloor.
EvenifIwantedtobewithTuckeragain(andmostofmybodypartsareinfavorofareunion)I’mtooexhaustedtodoanythingbutlieonmyback.
Although…thatwouldn’tbehalfbad,either.Hecouldrubmedown?fuckmeslow,andIcouldjustliebackandenjoyit.
Igivemyselfamentalheadslap.Tuckerandhisbigwangisthelastthingthatshouldbeonmymind.
Inthekitchen,Nanaisstirringapotatthestove,dressedintightjeans,alycratopthat’slosingitselasticity,andherever-presentfluffypinkslippers.
“Thatsmellsgreat,”Itellher.
Thesimmeringredsauceisfillingthekitchenwiththemostheavenlyscent.MystomachgurglesandremindsmeIhaven’thadanythingtoeatsincethebagelIgrabbedforbreakfastbeforework.
“Girl,youlooklikeyou’reabouttofallover.Goandsitdown.Dinnerwillbereadyinasec.”
Idon’tneedtobetoldtwice,butwhenIseetheemptytable,Imakeadetourtograbplatesandsilverware.Throughthedoorway,IspotthetopofRay’sheadashestaresatthetelevision.He’sprobablyfondlinghimself.IshudderasIpulltheplatesoutofthecabinet.
“Youwantmilkorwater?”IaskasIbegintosetthetable.
“Water,babe.I’mfeelingbloated.DidyouknowthatAnneHathawayislactoseintolerant?Shedoesn’teatanydairy.Maybeyoushouldthinkaboutcuttingdairyoutofyourdiet.”
“Nana,thatmeansnocheeseoricecream.Unlessadoctortellsmethatdairyisgoingtokillme,I’mallinonthecow.”
“AllI’msayingis,dairycouldbewhyyou’retiredallthetime.”Sheshakesherspoonatme.
“No,I’mprettysureit’sbecauseI’mworkingtwojobsandtakingafullcourseload,”Ianswerdryly.
“Ifshestopseatingdairy,willshebelessofababybitch?”Rayasksashestrollsintothekitchen.He’swearingthesamesweatpantsthathealwaysdoes.Thefabricissowornaroundhiscrotch,IswearIcanseeafainthintofpinkskin.
Inearlygag,turningawaybeforeheruinsmyappetite.
“Ray,don’tyoustart,”Nanacomplains.“Babe,willyougetthestrainerforme?”
MystepfathernudgesmeasIwalkby.“She’stalkingtoyou.”
“Noshit.Becausesheknowstalkingtoyouisliketalkingtohercouch.Shegetsthesameresults.”
IsettheglassofwaternexttoNana’splateandthenhurryovertothesinktogetthestrainerout.NanadumpsthesauceintoabowlwhileItakecareofthenoodles.
Ray,meanwhile,leansagainsttherefrigeratorlikealazytoad,watchingusbustlearoundthekitchen.
Ihatethismanwithallmyheart.FromthefirstmomentmymombroughthimhometomeetmewhenIwaseight,Iknewhewastrouble.ItoldMomasmuch,butlisteningtoherdaughterwasneversomethingshewasverygoodat.Neitherisstickingaround,apparently.MomranoffwithsomeotherslimebagwhenIwassixteen,andwehaven’tseenhersince.Shecallsafewtimesayearto“checkin,”butasfarasIcantell,shehasnoplanstoevercomebacktoBoston.
Idon’tevenknowwhereshe’slivingthesedays.WhatIdoknowisthatthere’snoreasonforRaytobelivinghere.He’snotmyfather—thattitleisreservedforthepieceofshitwhoabandonedMomafterknockingherup—andhe’sdefinitelynotpartofthefamily.IthinktheonlyreasonNanakeepshimaroundisbecausehisworkcompcheckspayathirdofourrent.Iassumeshefuckshimforaboutthesamereason.Becausehe’sconvenient.
But,God,he’ssoworthlessIthinkevenwormswouldturnuptheirnosesathim.Ifwormshadnoses,thatis.
OnlywhenthetableiscompletelysetandthesteamingpastaisreadyforservingdoesRaytakeaseat.
“Where’sthebread?”hedemands.
Nanafliesupfromherchair.“Ohdamn.It’sintheoven.”
“I’vegotit,”Itellher.“Yousitstill.”AsmuchasNana’soffhandcommentsmighthurt,thewomanstillraisedme,clothedme,andfedmewhileRaysatonhisfatass,smokedweedandmasturbatedtosportingevents.
Icastaglareathisbackandnotice,forthefirsttime,awhiteenvelopestuckdownhispants.It’sprobablyabill.Thelasttimehehidabillfromus(becausehe’dwatchedadozenpay-per-viewpornos)wehadathree-monthlatefeetopay.Ourbudgetworksonlyifwedon’thaveunexpectedsurpriseslikethat
Igrabtherollsfromtheoven,dumpthemintoabasketandcarryitoverthetable.AsIbendover,IplucktheenvelopeoutfromthebackofRay’ssweatpants.“What’sthis?”Idemand,wavingitintheair.“Somebill?”
“It’snotthosedirtyshowsagain,isit,Ray?”ThesidesofNana’sthinlipspulldown.
Heflushes.“Coursenot.ToldyouIdon’twatchthatshitanymore.”Heshiftsinhischairtogivemeasmarmysmile.“It’sforyou.”Hesnatchestheenvelopeoutofmygripanddragsitunderhisnose.“Smellslikeuptightbitchtome.”
Aflashofcrimsonattheedgemakesmyheartbeatfaster.Ilungetowardtheenvelope,butRayholdshisarmouthighandawayfromme,makingmepressagainsthim.God,Ihatehim.
“Givehertheletter,”Nanachastises.“Thefoodisgettingcold.”
“Iwasjustfunnin’,”hesays,droppingtheenvelopebymyplate.
Myeyeslockonthecrimsonshieldintheupperleftcorner.
“Openit,”Nanaurges.
There’sahintofeagernessinhertone.Shemaytauntmeaboutmyworthlesseducationandridiculousdreams,butIthinkthatdeepdownshe’sdamnexcited.Atleastshe’llhavethistolordovertheotherladiesatthehairsalonwhosegranddaughtersarehavingbabiesinsteadofgettingintoHarvard.
Except…theenvelopeiswaferthin.Allofmycollegeacceptanceletterswereingiantenvelopesstuffedfullofprettybrochuresandcatalogs.
“She’sscared.Sheprobablydidn’tgetin.”Ray’swordsarebothlinedwithdisdainandringingwithglee.
IsnatchtheletterandripitopenwithRay’sknife.Asinglepieceofpaperfallsout.It’sgotseveralparagraphs,noneofwhichIfullyreadasIscanfortheimportantwords.
CongratulationsonyouradmissiontoHarvardLawSchool!IhopeyouwilljoinusinCambridgeaspartoftheclassof—
“Well?”Nanaprompts.
Thebiggestsmileknowntomankindspreadsacrossmyface.Myhunger,myexhaustion,myirritationwithRay,isallwipedaway.
“I…gotin.”Thewordscomeoutonasqueakofbreath.Irepeatmyself,andthistimeI’mscreaming.“Igotin!OhmyGod!Igotin!”
IwavetheletterintheairasIdancewildlyaroundthekitchen.Idon’tusuallyallowmyselftodropmyguardinfrontofRay,butthebastarddoesn’tevenexisttomerightnow.Excitementpulsesinmyblood,alongwithasenseofreliefsoweightythatIcan’tstayuprightformuchlonger.IfallonNana’sshouldersandgiveherahugehug.
“Isupposeyou’regoingtobeextrauppitynow,”shegripes,andIdon’tevencare.
“Naah,thisdoesn’tmakeherspecialoranything,”Raydrawls.“She’sgottwoholeslikeanyotherbitch.Threeifyoucounthermouth.”
IwaitforNanatodefendme,butapparentlyjealousyiswinningoutoverpriderightnow.Shelaughsathisdisgustingcomment,andjustlikethat,I’mdonecelebratingwiththesepeople.Icannotwaittogetoutofthishouse.
Still,Irefusetoletanythingaffectmyhappinessrightnow.Ispinonmyheelandwaltzdownthehallwaytocallmygirls.
“Whataboutdinner?”Nanayellsafterme.
Iignoreherandkeepwalking.Inmybedroom,Ithrowmyselfonthebedandtextmyfriends.
Igotin.
HopebeatsCarinbyamillisecond.
OMG!Congrats!!!!!!!!
Carinreplies,PIC!PIC!PIC!
Isnapapictureoftheacceptanceletterandsenditoff.WhileI’mwaitingfortheirresponses,Irundownthehall,fillmyplatewithpasta,stuffarollinmymouth,andrunbacktomybedroom.NanaandRaysaysomething,butnoneofitprocesses.Onlysheerjoyfillsmyears.
ThereareadozenresponseswhenIgetback.
Hope:<3
Carin:LOVE!LOVE!LOVE!URsoawesome!
Hope:I’msoproudofu.URgoingtomakethebestlawyerEVER.Pleasesayyou’llrepresentmeifIgetsuedformalpractice.
Carin:THISISTHEMOSTBEAUTIFULTHING!
Hope:Whendowegettotakeuout?Andno,never,nothappeningRunacceptableresponses.
IchewonmyrollasItextthemback.
Me:A)Ubothgetfreelegalservices4life.
B)Let’scelebratetomorrow.Ipromisetoorderenoughtomakeyourcreditcardweep.
Hope:Notpossible!I’mmakingreservationsforSantino’s.
Carin:Thatplaceneedsreservations?!
Hope:Idunno!Figureofspeech.ButwecouldgotoMalone’sagainifuwantcelebratorysex.
Me:IstillhavethenumberfromtheguyfromlastSaturday.Whataboutu?Yourladygardengetaprivatetourlastnight?
ThetwoofthemhadgoneoutwithoutmetoapartyatBeauMaxwell’shouse.IwonderifTuckerwasthere.Andifso,Iwonderwhohetooktohistruckthistime.Thethoughtofhimrunninghisbig,callusedhandsoversomeothergirl’sbreastsmakesmegritmyteethinenvy,butIdon’thavetherighttobejealous.Iblockedhisnumber,afterall.ItoldhiminnouncertaintermsthatIwasn’tinterestedingoingoutwithhim.
Sowhydidyouunblockhim,hmmm?
Thetauntingvoiceinmyheadhasmebitingmylip.Fine,soIunblockedhisnumber.Butthatwasn’tbecauseIwanttogooutwithhimoranything.Ijustfigureditmightbehandytohaveincaseof…anemergency.
God,I’msopathetic.
Myphonedings,pullingmeoutofmythoughts.
Carin:No.Iwasanangel.
Hope:Liar!OMG,whataliar.ShecamedownstairswithsexhairbiggerthanCher.Textherapictureofurchest.RightnoworI’lldoit.
Carin:Fine.Ihateu.
SometimesIdowishIlivedwiththem.IgobbleupmorepastaasIwaitforthepicturefromCarin.Whentheimagecomesthrough,Inearlychokeonanoodle.
Me:Didumakeoutwithteenwolflastnight?
Carin:No.BradAllen.
Isearchmymemorybanksandcomeupwithasix-foot,four-inchguywitharound,sweetface.
Me:Defensivelineman?Helookslikeacherub!
Carin:Yup.Turnsouthehasasuckingfetish.Goodthingit’scoldoutbecausetanktopswouldbeoutofthequestion.
Me:Otherthanhimtryingtoactuallysuckthebloodthroughurchesticles,diduenjoyhim?
Carin:Itwasn’tbad.Heknewhowtousehisequipment.
Me:Ha!Myathletetheoryisholdingstrong!
Hope:BetweenTuckerandBradAllen,itappearsB’shypothesisisaccurate.
Carin:Ubothknowthat’snothowthescientificmethodworks,right?
Me:Yup,butwedon’tcare.
Hope:DoesthatmeanTuckerisgettingarepeat?
Me:Doubtful.He’sgood,butwhendoIhavethetime?
Wetextforafewmoreminutes,butmyspikeofadrenalineiswearingoff.IsetmypartiallyfinishedplateonmynightstandandhugtheHarvardlettertomychest.It’sallhappening.AllthegoodthingsI’veworkedsohardforarecomingtofruition.Nothingcanstopmenow.
Ifallasleepwithabig,happysmileonmyface.
*
Raincheck,chickadees,Itextmygirlsthefollowingday,afterHopemessagestoaskifIwanttohavelunchwiththem.
Hope:Aw,why??
Me:ProfessorFromminvitedmeforacampusvisit.I’mbackinBoston,skippingoutonmylastclass.FYI,I’mofficially2goodforu.
Hope:Kisses!Textbackonhowitgoes.Can’twaituntilnextyearandwe’reallinBostonasgradstudents!!!
Carin’sinclass,butIknowI’llgetatextfromherassoonasshe’sout
ItaketheRedLinetoHarvardSquare.Iswearthesubwaystationevensmellsgoodhere,unlikeanyotherstopontheline,whichreeksofgarbage,staleurine,andbadBO.Andthecampusisgorgeous.Iwanttoswingmyarmsoutwideandspininaridiculouslyhappycircle.
Accordingtomymap,theeighteenorsobuildingsthatmakeupthelawschoolareontheothersideofcampus.There’snohurry,though,soItakethetimetowalkthroughslowly,admiringallthemassivebrickbuildings,thedozensanddozensoftreesthatarestillholdingontotheverylastoftheirleaves,andtheacresofgrass—someofwhichisstillgreeninplaces.It’sBriaronsteroids.Eventhestudentslooksmarter,richer,moreimportant.
MostofthemarewearingwhatIliketocalltherichgirluniform:Sperrytopsiders,Rag&Bonejeans,andaJoiesweatshirt—thekindthatlookslikeitcamefromthebottomofatrashcanbutactuallycostsacouplehundredbucks.IknowthisonlybecauseofHope’scloset.
Butjustbecausemyblackskirtandwhitetopcamefromadiscountstoredoesn’tmeanIdon’tbelong.Imightnothaveasmuchmoneyasanyonehere,butI’dstackmybrainupagainstanyofthesestudents.
IpullopenthedoorstoEverett,thebuildingwhereProfessorFromm’sofficeis.Atthereceptionist’sdesk,Iintroducemyself.Shehasmewritemynameinanentrybookandthengesturesformetotakeaseat.
I’mnotthereformorethanaminutewhenayoungmanwearingablue-and-whitecheckedshirtandadarkbluetiestrollsoutfromasidehallthatIdidn’tnoticewhenIfirstarrived.
“Hello.I’mKaleDelacroix.”Heoffershishand.
Ishakeitautomatically,unsureofwhyhe’sherewhileatthesametimewonderingwhyanyonewouldevernametheirkidKale.“I’mSabrinaJames.”
“Great.WelcometoHarvardLegalAid.Here’sourintakeform.Ifyouneedanyhelp,givemeaholler.”
Heshovesaclipboardtowardme.Iscanthedocument,notquiteunderstandingwhyIneedtofilloutaformtoseeProfessorFromm.Itugthepenoutfromundertheclipandstarttoprintmyname.ThenIstop.WhileI’mnotafanoflookingstupid,Ifigureit’sbettertoaskwhatthehellisgoingon.“IsthisLegalAid?BecauseI’mnot—”
Hecutsmeoff.“Don’tworryaboutit.That’swhatlegalaidisfor.Fortheindigent.”Thelastworddripswithcondescension.
Myneckhairsbristle.“Iknowwhat—”
“DoyounotreadEnglish?Habloespa?ol?”Hejerkstheclipboardoutofmyhands,flipsthepaperover,andthenshovesitbacktowardme.TheformisnowinSpanish.
“IspeakEnglish,”Igrowlbetweenclenchedteeth.
“Oh,okay.Icanfilloutyourformifyoucan’treadorwrite.Therearemanypeoplewithyourkindofproblemhere.Isitadomesticissue?Landlord/tenant?Wedon’thandletortshere.”Again,hegivesmeapatronizingsmile.
“I’mastudent,”Itellhim.“Imean,Iwillbeastudent.”
WestareateachotherforamomentasIwaitformywordstoregister.Iseethemomentthattheydo,becausethepalewhiteguygrowsevenwhiter.“Youare?Christ,Ithought…”
Iknowwhathethought.Hetookonelookatmyfrayedcoatandpeggedmeasapoorpersoninneedoffreelegalservices.Andthemosthumiliatingpartofthisisthatheisn’twrong.IfIneededalawyer,Iwouldn’tbeabletopayforone.
“Isthereaproblemhere?”anewvoiceinterrupts.AgiraffeofawomanappearsbehindKale,herhandsclaspedbehindherback.
“No,there’snoproblem,ProfessorStein.”Kalegivesmeatightsmile,buthiseyesflashawarning,asiftosaytonotfuckthisupforhim.
ThesmileIgivehiminreturnisfullofteeth.“DaleherethoughtIwasaclient,butI’mactuallyheretoseeProfessorFromm.”
Theprofessorstudiesme,quicklyassessingthesituation.Assherelievesmeoftheclipboard,shetiltsherheadtowardthestairs.“Secondfloor,firstdoorontheleft.”ShehandstheclipboardbacktotheKale.
“It’sKale,”hehissesashestifflymarchesaway.
Theprofessorshakesherhead.“Newstudents,”shesaysinaflimsyapologybeforewalkingoffintheoppositedirection.
AsKaledisappearsdownthehall,Ihearahigh-pitchedvoicegreethim.“OhmyGod,thatwastoofunny.DidyouactuallymistakethatgirlforaSpanish-speakingimmigrant?”
Ishouldmoveon,butmyfeetarerootedtothespot.Thereceptionistgivesmeapainedlook.
“Didyouseewhatshewaswearing?”Kaleprotestsfromthecorridor.“Lookedlikearejectfromthedomesticviolenceclothingdrivewehaveeachyear.”
Anewvoicechimesin.“Whatareyouguyslaughingabout?”
“KalemistookastudentvisitingProfFrommforahomelessperson.”
Withburningcheeks,Imeettheeyesofthereceptionist.“Yougottadosomethingaboutthoseacoustics.”
Sheshrugs.“Ifyouthinkthat’stheworstthingIheareveryday,you’reinforasoresurprise.”
Whatacheerfulthought.Theideaoflingeringhereisn’tsoappealinganymore,soItakethestepstwoatatime.ProfessorFromm’sdoorisatthetopofthestairs.She’stalkingonthephonebutnoticesmerightaway.
“Sabrina,comein.”Placingahandoverthereceiver,shegesturesformetoenter.“I’lljustbeaminute.”Tothepersononthephoneshesays,“Ihavetogo.Astudentwalkedin.Don’tforgettopickupthedrycleaning.”
Theofficeislinedwithbooks,mostofthemlegalpublicationsmarkedbytheolivehardcoverswiththeNorthEasternReporterwordsingoldletteringonthespine.
Itakeaseatintheblackleatherchairinfrontofthedeskandwonderwhatit’dbeliketositontheotherside.ItwouldmeanI’darrived,andnoonewouldmistakemeforalegalaidrecipienteveragain.
“So…Congratulations!”Shebeamsatme.“Iwantedtotellyoutheothernight,butIdidn’twanttoruinthesurprise.”
“Thankyou.Ican’ttellyouhowthrilledIam.”
“Yourcredentialsareimpeccable,but…”Shepausesandmyheartstartsbeatingwildly.
Shecan’ttakeawaymyacceptance,canshe?Onceit’smine,itcan’tberevoked,right?
“Kellymentionedthatyouworktwojobs?”shefinishes.
“Yes,Iwaittablesandsortmail.”ProfessorGibsonknowsexactlywhereIwaittables,butshetoldmeitwasn’tnecessaryforHarvardtoknow,soIkeepthatunderwraps.“ButIplantoquitbothjobsbeforeclassesstartthisfall.”
ThismakesFrommhappy.“Good.Iwashopingyou’dsaythat.WhiletheoldPaperChasesayingthatifyoulooktoyourleftandrightandoneofyouwon’tbeherenextyearisnolongerthecase,wedohaveafewstudentsthatdropoutafterthefirstyear.Idon’twantyoutobeoneofthem.Yourfocusthiscomingfallneedstobeonyourstudies.You’llbeexpectedtoabsorbmoreinformationinonenightthanmostundergradsdoinasemester.”
Shepluckstwobooksoffastackonthefloorandpushesthemacrossthedesk.Accordingtothetitles,oneisonadministrativelawandtheotherisontheartofwriting.
“Whenyouhavetime,andIsuggestyoumakeit,practiceyourwriting.Thepenisyourstrongestweaponhere.Ifyoucanwritewell,you’llgoplaces.Theotherisonadlaw.Alotofpeoplegetstumpedonregulatorypracticeversuscorporateandtortlaw.It’sgoodtobeastepahead.”Shegivesthebooksanothernudgetowardme.
“Thankyou,”Isaygratefully,gatheringthebooksandplacingtheminmylap.
“You’rewelcome.TellKellyIsaidhellowhenyougetbacktoBriar.”
Okaythen.I’mclearlydismissed.
“Thankyou,”Irepeatawkwardly,andthenItakethebooksandrisetomyfeet.
Iskippedclass,rodethesubway,andenduredahumiliatingencounterwithajerknamedKale,andforwhat?Afive-minuteconversationandtwobookrecommendations?
WhenIreachthedoor,ProfessorFrommcallsmynameagain.“AndSabrina,allowmetogiveyouatip.Spendalittleofyourloanmoneyonanewwardrobe.Itwillhelpyoufeelathomehere,andtheplayingfieldwon’tseemsouneven.Youdressforthejobyouwant,nottheoneyouhave.”
Inod,hopingthatmycheeksaren’tcompletelyred.AndhereIthoughttheHumiliateSabrinahourwasover.
Onthewalkacrossthecampus,everythinglooksalittleduller.ThistimeInoticethatthelargepatchesoflawnarereallymostlybrownandthatthetreesarenakedwithouttheleaves.Thestudentshaveanunrelentinglysamenesstothem—richandprivileged.
WhenIgethome,Itossthebooksonmydresserandliedownonthebed.There’sacornernearmywindowwheretheplasteriscrackedandyellowing.WaterhasbeenseepinginforaslongasIcanremember,butafterbringingituptoNanaonceandgettingablankstareinreturn,Ihaven’tmentioneditagain.
Irollontomybackandstareupattheceiling.Therearecracksintheplasteruptheretoo,alongwithbrownishstainsthatI’vealwayswonderedabout.Maybethere’saleakintheroof?
Arushofshamewashesoverme,butI’mnotsurewhatI’mfeelingashamedabout.Myugly,rundownhome?Mycheapclothes?Myselfingeneral?
Pityyourselflater.It’stimetopaythebills
God.ThelastthingIwanttodorightnowisleaveoneplaceofshameandgotoanotherone,butIdon’thavemuchofachoice.MyshiftatBoots&Chutesstartsinanhour.
Iforcemyselftomyfeetandgrabthebootyshortsandbrathatserveasmyuniform.I’monlygoingtohavetodothisfortenmoremonths,IremindmyselfasIshimmyintomyoutfitandthenapplymymakeup.Isliponmysix-inchplatformstrippershoes,throwonmytatteredwoolcoatandheadforthestripclub.Which,sadly,istheoneplacewhereIreallydofitin.
I’mtrashy.Ilivewithtrashypeople.Ibelonginatrashyplace.
Thequestionis,willIeverbeabletoruboffthestenchofmypasttobelongatHarvard?IthoughtIcould.
Buttonight,Ihonestlydon’tknow.8
Tucker
“Wesuck,”Hollisgripes.
“We’renotgreat,”Iacknowledge.
Today’spracticewasanotherdisaster,whichdoesn’tbodewellfortomorrow’sgameagainstYale.IwashopingtheroadtriptoBostonwoulddistractusfromhowbadlywe’replaying,butwe’vebeensittinginthisbarforalmostanhour,andsofarallwe’vetalkedaboutishockey.TheBruinsgameflashingonmultiplescreensallaroundusisn’thelpingmatters—watchingagoodteamplaygoodhockeyisjusttheicingontheshitcake.
Ipeeratmyemptybeerbottleandthenwaveitintheairtosignalthewaitress.I’mgoingtoneedaboutfivemoreoftheseifIwanttosnapoutofthissourmood.
Hollisisstillgrumblingbesideme.“Ifwedon’tstartplayingsomedefense,wecankissourchancesatanotherFrozenFourgoodbye.”
“It’salongseason.Let’snotthrowinthetowelyet,”Fitzysaysfromacrossthebooth.He’ssippingonaCokebecausehe’sourDDtonight.
“Areyouguysgoingtotalkhockeyallnight?”Hollis’brother,Brody,complains.He’stwenty-five,butlookswayyoungerwithhisclean-shavenfaceandbackwardsRedSoxcap.
“Whatelsearewegonnatalkabout?Thisplaceisasausagefest.”Hollistossesanapkinathisbrother.
He’snotwrong.Thereareonlytwowomeninthisbar.They’rearoundourage,hotasfuck,andtheyalsohappentobemakingoutwitheachotherinacornerbooth.Ninety-fivepercentofthemenhere—myselfincluded—havealreadysnuckglancesatthelip-lockedchicks.Theotherfivepercentarebusylip-lockingeachother.
“Fine,youlosers.”Brodyheavesoutanexaggeratedsigh.“Youdon’tlikethisplace?Let’sgo.”
“Where?”hislittlebrotherasks.
“Wherethere’sgirls.”
“Doneanddone.”
Threeminuteslater,we’reclimbingintoFitzy’scarandfollowingBrody’sAudiacrosstown.
“Nicewheels,”Iremark,gesturingtotheshinysilvercaraheadofus.
“Heleasesit,”Hollisinformsme.“Helikestoactlikeabigshot,buthe’sreallynot.”
“Gee,”Fitzydrawlsfromthedriver’sseat.“Soundlikeanyoneyouknow?”
Thatgetshimamiddlefingerfromourteammate.“Dude.I’mmoreofabigshotthanyourpansyass.Youdidn’tevengetlaidonyourbirthdaythisweek.”
“Iwasn’tlookingtogetlaid.Trustme,ifIwas,youwouldn’thaveseenmeatallthatnight.”
“Webarelysawyou,anyway!Youwenthomeearlytoplayvideogames!”
“TodemothegameIdesigned,”theotherguycorrects.“Idon’tseeyoudoinganythingproductivewithyourtime.”
“Actuallyusingmydickisveryproductive,thankyouverymuch.”
Ihideagrin.Italwaysbogglesmymindhowthesetwocouldbesuchclosefriends.Hollisisaloud-mouthedbrowithonlyonethingonthebrain—chicks—whileFitzyisseriousandintensewithonlyonethingonhisbrain—gaming.Ormaybetwothings,seeingastheguylovesgettingtattooed.Somehowtheymakethefriendshipwork,thoughitseemslikeit’smostlythroughbickeringandflippingeachotheroff.
WepullintoagraveldrivewayandparkinthespotnexttoBrody’s.HisAudidoesn’tlookoutofplacewiththerestofthecars,butitdoesn’tfitthebar,either.Aneonsignoverthenondescriptbuildingblazeswiththewords“Boots&Chutes,”whicharepositionedunderneathahalf-nakedgirlridingabull
Hollisgapesatthesign.“Seriously?Awestern-themetittybarinBoston?Thisisgonnasuck.”Helookslikehewantstopunchhisbrother.
“Aren’tyouMissMarySunshine.”BrodythrowsanarmaroundHollisandwavesforustocomeforward.“Youbabieswantedpussy—well,hereyouare.”
“Isthiswhathappensafteryougetoutofcollege?Youhavetopayforpussy?”Hollishangshishead.“I’mneverleavingBriar,bro.Ever.”
Ichuckle.“Hey,thinkofalltheleftoverhockeygroupiesyou’llhaveaccesstowhenGarrettorLoganstartplayingforthepros.”
Thatimmediatelyperkshimup.“Goodpoint.Andlook—”Hepointstothesign“—nowyoudon’thavetoleaveBostoneither.WhoneedstomovebacktoTexaswhenyou’vegotcowgirlsrighthereforyou?”
“Tempting,”Isaydryly,“butIthinkI’mstickingtomyoriginalplan.”
UnlessmymomsuddenlyacquiresatastefortheEastCoast,I’mmovingbacktoPattersonafterIgraduate.I’mnotsureoursmalltownisagoodplacetostartabusiness,butIcouldalwaystrytoopensomethingupinDallasandcomehomeontheweekends.MomsacrificedashitloadtogetmetowhereI’matnow,andI’mnotleavingheralone.
Thestripclubreeksofsweat,smoke,anddesperation.Atthefrontofourgroup,Hollis’brotherslapssomethingintothehandsofthebouncer,andtheyhaveashortconversation.
“Notouching.Privatedancesstartatfivebills.”Hewavesawaitressover.“Frontrow,stageright,”hetellsher.
Everyonestartsmoving.
Everyonebutme.
“Gotaproblem?”
Thebouncer’ssharpvoicegetsmemoving.“Nope,”Isayeasily.
ButIkindado.Ihaveabigproblem,infact.Afuckinghugeproblem.
Becauseundertheheavyeyelinerandthebighair,Irecognizethewaitress.Hell,I’vehadmyhandsandmouthalloverthatexposedskin.
Sabrina’sstartledgazelockswithmine.Iseeallthecolordrainfromherface,whichissayingalotbecauseshedidn’tgoeasyontheblushwhensheappliedhermakeup.
“Rightthisway,”shemumbles.Shespinsaroundwithaswishofdarkhair,butnotbeforeIseetheflashofwarninginhereyes.
Gotit.Shedoesn’twantmetellingtheguysthatweknoweachother.Idon’tblameher.Thisisprobablyawkwardasfuckforher.
“Whatkindsofchicksworkthisjoint?”HollissaysasheleersatSabrina’sincrediblebackside,whichisbarelycoveredbythetinyshortsshe’swearing.
“Hotones,”Fitzyrepliesdryly.
That’sanunderstatement.Thegirlsherearemorethanhot.They’regoddamnspectacular.Source:myeyeballs.
Tallones,shortones,curvyones.Light,dark,andeverythinginbetween.ButmygazekeepssnappingbacktoSabrina,asifit’sattachedtoaninvisiblestringthat’scontrolledbyherperfectass.
“ItakebackeveryrudethingIsaidaboutcowgirlsintheparkinglot.Anyofthesegirlscanrideme.”
Heatcurdlesinmygut.Idon’tliketheideaofHollis—oranyofthedudesinthisplace—gettingriddenbySabrina.She’smine.
“Youokay?”Fitzyasks.“Youlookpissed.”
Itakeabreath.“Yeah,sorry.Iwasthinkingabouttheteam.”
Hebuysthat.“That’senoughtomakeanyonemad.Comeon.Let’sgetadrinkandforgetabouthockey.”
Inodabsently,toomesmerizedbythecenterofSabrina’sback.It’scompletelybareexceptforonemeaslystringthatlookslikeitwouldunravelifIblewagainstthebow.Mygazedropslower,takingintheelegantindentationofherspine,allthewaydowntothetopofherblacksatinbootyshorts.
Bythetimewearriveatthestage,I’msportingasemi,whichisfuckingembarrassing.Gettingahard-onatthemeresightofagirl’sassisn’tsomethingthat’shappenedtomesincehighschool.
Iforcemyeyesupwardintimetoavoidatablefulloffratboys.OneofthemreachesouttoslapSabrina’sassassheswaysbyhim.
Ajoltofrageshootsupmyspine.Ishoveforward,butabouncersittingatthebaseofthestagereachesthepunkbeforeIdo.
“Notouching,asshole.”Hehaulsthepolo-shirtedkidtohisfeet.“Let’sgo.”
“Hey,I’msorry,”theasswipeprotests.“Itwasreflex.”
Butthebouncerdoesn’tlistenandtheguyisdraggedoutanyway.Hisfriendsjustwatchhimgo.
Hollisgrins.“Strictfuckershere.”
“Weneedthatguyonourteam,”Fizzyobserves.
“Nolie.”
Sabrinaholdsoutherhand.“AnythingIcangetforyouboys?”Hervoiceisbarelyaudibleoverthelouddancebeatblaringthroughtheclub.
“Whateveryouhaveondraft.”Ikeepmyeyesfixedaboveherchin,whichisafuckingmiracle.
Idon’tmisstheunhappinesswashingoverherface.Itdoesn’ttakearocketscientisttoguessshe’sembarrassed,andIdon’tknowhowtotellherthatwheresheworksdoesn’tmakeashit’sworthofdifferencetome.
Brodyflopsdowninthechairnexttomine.Herestshisforearmsonthetabletopandleansforwardtowatchthehalf-nakedwomandancingfivefeetawayfromus.ThetallredheadisintheprocessofwigglingoutofherG-string,leavingherinnothingbutaleatherholsteraroundherwaistandtwofakeguns.
“Andforyou?”
Hollis’brothertearshisgazeoffthenakedcowgirlandglancesatSabrina.“Whiskey,neat.”
“Comingrightup.”
“Thanks,baby.”
Withastrainedsmile,Sabrinadisappears,andsomehowImanagenottolungeacrossthetableatBrody.Sabrina’snothisbaby.Ifhecallsherthatonemoretime,I’mnotsureI’llbeabletorestrainmyselffrombeatingthelivingcrapoutofhim.
“Shelooksfamiliar,”Hollisyellsinmyear.“Thewaitress.Doesn’tshe?”
Ishrug.“Don’tknow.”
Fitzyturnstostudyherassheleansforwardtotakeordersatanearbytable.“IguessshelooksalittlelikeOliviaMunn?”
“Noway.She’samilliontimeshotterthanher,”Hollisdeclares.Thenheshrugs.“Whatever,maybeIdon’tknowher.”
Hisbrothergrins.“I’llaskherlaterwhyshelooksfamiliar.Youknow,whenshe’sonherkneesinfrontofme.”
Iclenchmyfistsagainstmythighs.Ihaveto,orI’mgoingtopoundHollis’brotherintomincemeatandthenHolliswillbepissedoff.IlikeHollis.
Luckily,Brodydecidestostopbeingacreep,asifonsomesubconsciouslevelhefiguredouthowcloseIwastostraight-upmurderinghim.Heturnstomeandsays,“Mikeymentionedyou’regoingtostartyourownbusiness?”
Inod.“That’stheplan.”
“Gotsomethinginmind?”
“I’mkickingaroundafewideas,butIhaven’tsettledonanythingyet.I’vebeenfocusedonhockey.”
“Yeah,Ihearya.”
“ButonceI’mdonewithschool,I’llevaluatemyoptions.”
“Ifyouneedhelp,letmeknow.I’vegotacoupleinswithsomenewopportunities.Reallyground-floorstuff.I’mnotsurehowmuchcashyou’vegot,buttheseinvestmentopportunitiesaren’topentothepublic.Onedayyou’reinforacouplehundredGs,andthreeyearslateryou’reabillionairewhenFacebookbuysyouout.”Hesnapshisfingersasifit’sjustthateasy.
“Soundsinteresting.MaybeI’llgiveyouacallwhenI’mreadytomakesomedecisions.”I’mnoddingagain,butreally,IhavenoplansoncallingBrodyHollisforinvestmentadvice.I’drathernotgetsuckeredintosomepyramidscheme,thankyouverymuch.
Sabrinareturnswithatrayinherhand,andallmyattentioninstantlybelongstoher.Shesetsdownourdrinks,standingrightatmyshoulder.Ifigureit’sbecauseI’mtheleastlikelytoplaygrab-asswithherandnotbecauseshewantstorubhertitsacrossmycheek.
“I’llbebackinabittocheckonyou,”shemurmursbeforedartingoff.
Jesus.Istareatherinadmiration,wishingIcouldrunafterherandgiveherahug.ServingabunchofBriarguys—nottomentiononeshe’ssleptwith—can’tbecomfortableforher.Shecould’veaskedherbosstobeswitchedtoanothersection,butshedidn’t.She’scontinuingtodoherjobasifourpresencedoesn’taffectheratall.
Forthenexthalfhour,theguysandIwatchthestrippersdotheirthing.Well,theguyswatch.Me,I’mwhollyfocusedonSabrina.Isneakglancesathereveryothersecond,barelypayingattentiontowhat’sgoingonaroundme.Ivaguelyregisterlaughterandcatcallsandsnippetsofconversation,butmyentireworldhasbeenreducedtoSabrinaJames.Thesensualswayofherhipsasshewalks.Thehighheelsthatmakeherlonglegslookimpossiblylonger.Everytimeshewalkspastourtable,Ifighttheurgetopullherintomylapandkisshersenseless.
“Howmuchdoesagirllikeyoucost?”aloudvoiceslursfrombehindme.
“I’mnotadancer.”
MyshouldersstiffenwhenIrecognizeSabrina’svoice.Thewomanonstagehasjustfinishedup,andthemusicvolumehasdroppedafewnotcheswhilethenextgirlgetsreadytogoon.WhenItwistaroundinmychair,Ifindthattheobnoxiousfratboysareatitagain.
“Butyouwouldbeifthepricewasright,”oneofthedouchecanoesdrawls.
“No.Ijustservedrinks.”FromwhereIsit,Icanseethetensioninherslendershoulders.
“WhatifIwantmorethanadrink?”Douchecanoetaunts.
“Trustme,youdon’twanttowasteyourmoneyonme.I’materribledancer.”Hertoneislightonthesurface,butsteelybeneathit.“Youneedanythingelse?”
“Sweetheart,I’mnotaskingforaBroadwayshow.Ijustwantyoutoshakeyourtitsandassinmyface.Mayberubuponmeabit—”
That’sit.I’vehadenough.
Idon’tmissFitzy’slookofconfusionasIpushoutofmychairandmarchovertotheDoucheTable.
“Shesaidno,”Igrowl.
Themaindouchesmirksatme.“She’safuckingstripper,dude.”
Ifoldmyarmsacrossmychest.“Shesaidno,”Irepeat.
FromthecornerofmyeyeIseeSabrinaedgebackward.
“Wheredoyougetoff?”Douchecanoedemands.“MindyourownbusinessorI’ll—”
Thechairlegsbehindmescrapeagainstthefloor,andDouchecanoeshrinksinhisseatasoversixhundredpoundsofangryhockeyplayersstaredownathim.Fitzyisparticularlymenacingwithhistwofull-sleevetattoosandthecutoverhiseyebrowthathegotduringourlastgame.
“You’llwhat?”Iask,liftingabrow.
“Nothing,”thefratboysayssullenly.
“That’swhatIthought.”IbaremyteethattheassholesbeforetheboysandIsettlebackinourchairs.
IttakesmeasecondtorealizethatSabrinaishalfwayacrosstheroom.Sheturns,briefly,toglanceatourtable.Whenourgazesmeet,there’sunmistakablesorrowinhers.
BeforeIcanstopmyself,Ipulloutmyphoneandsendheraquicktext.Idon’tknowifshestillhasmeblocked,butitcan’thurttotry.
I’msorryaboutthat.
Idon’texpectareply,sowhenmyphonebuzzesthreeminuteslater,I’mgenuinelysurprised.ButthenI’mpissed,becauseshetextedback:
Didufollowmehere?
Ittakesmeaminutetoregroup.Isipmybeer,takeabreath,andthenanswerherwith,Meetmeattherestrooms?
Thistimesherespondsrightaway.
5min.
Forthenextfourminutes,Ihavetoforcemyselfnottostareatmyphone.Orsetatimer.Impatiencebubblesinmygut,intensifyingwitheachpassingsecond.BythetimeIrisetomyfeet,I’mtenseasfuck.
“Hittingthehead,”Imutter,buttheguyspaymenoattention.HollisandBrodyaretoobusyshovingdollarbillsinastripper’sG-string,whileFitzywatchesthemwithaboredexpression.
Ithreadmywaythroughthecrowdofmostlymentowardthedoorwayontheothersideofthedarkroom.Boots&Chuteshasgoneoverboardwiththewesterntheme—saloon-styledoorsseparatethebathroomsfromthemainroom,andthewoodensignsontherestroomsreadGunslingersandFillies.FrombehindtheFilliesdoor,Ihearthemuffledsoundsoffemalemoansintermingledwithmalegrunts.Classy.
“So,didyou?”
IwhirlaroundatSabrina’svoice.Shestalksuptome,herarmscrossedtightlyoverherchestinawaythatcauseshercleavagetospilloverherbra.
“Followyouhere,youmean?”Iflattenmylips.“No,darlin’,Ididnot.”
Shestudiesmeforseveralsecondsbeforenodding.“Okay.Ibelieveyou.”Thensheturnstowalkaway.
Ohhellno.
“Sabrina,”Isayinalowvoice.
Shestops.“W-what?”
SomethinginsideofmemeltswhenIhearthecrackinhervoice.Shekeepsherbacktome,herspinelikeametalrod.BythetimeIreachher,anyindignationIfeltoverherunfairassumptionhasfadedaway.Igentlytouchherarmtoshiftheraroundsowe’refacingeachother.
“Sabrina?”Ikeepmyvoicesoft,safe.
Shevisiblyswallows.“ThisiswhereIwork.”
Igiveaslownod.“Thisiswhereyouwork.”
“That’sit?You’vegotnothingelsetosayaboutthat?”
Istrokeherbareshoulderwiththepadofmythumb,gratifiedtofeelhershiver.“Thisisyourplaceofemployment.Yougetpaidtoworkhere.Youusethosepaycheckstopayyourbills,I’massuming.Whatelsedoyouwantmetosay?”
ButIknowwhatsheexpectedfromme.Judgment.Contempt.Maybealewdcommentortwo.
I’mnotthatman,though.
Shekeepswatchingme,untilfinallyasmallsmileplaysonhergorgeouslips.“I’mwaitingforthepartwhereyoutellmeyounevercometotheseplaces,yourfriendsjustdraggedyouhereagainstyourwill,yadayada.”
“I’dbelyingifIsaidI’veneverbeentoastripclub.ButIkindofdidgetdraggedheretonight—Ivotedforthesportsbar.AndtheonlyreasonIevencametoBostonwasbecause…”Itrailoff,becausethelastthingIwanttodoisscareheroffagain.
“Becausewhat?”
Fuckit.Ishrugandsay,“IwashopingmaybeI’drunintoyou.”
Sabrinalaughs.“Boston’sabigplace—youreallyexpectedtorandomlyrunintome?”
“Expected,no.Hoped?Abso-fucking-lutely.”
Thatgetsmeanotherlaugh.
Westareateachotherforabeat.MyvoicecomesoutgravellyasImurmur,“Youunblockedmynumber.”
“Iunblockedyournumber,”sheagrees.
Thenshemoistensherbottomlipwiththetipofhertongue,andIswallowagroan.Fuck,Iwanttokissher.
“Ishould…getbacktowork.”
There’sonlythetiniestsliverofreluctanceinherwords,butasliverisallIneed.“Whendoyougetoff?”
“Two.”
“Doyouwanttohangoutwhenyou’redone?”
Shedoesn’tanswerrightaway.Istandthere,holdingmybreath,hopingthattheraw,overpoweringlustIfeelforherdoesn’tshowonmyface,prayingthatshe’llsay—
“Yes.”9
Tucker
IwaitforSabrinaintheparkinglot.Almostallthecarsaregone,exceptforahalfdozenthatprobablybelongtotheemployees.TheguyswentbacktoBrody’sapartmentacouplehoursago,wherethey’llprobablystayupallnightdrinking.ItoldthemIwasmeetingagirlforalatebite,whichgotmeahigh-fivefromHollisevenashegripedaboutwhatashittypersonIwasfornotmakingsureshehadafriend.
Aftertheydroppedmeoffatanall-nightdinerafewblocksfromtheclub,thesiteofmysupposeddate,IkilledanhourbygrabbingaburgerandchuggingsomecoffeesothatIwouldn’tfallasleepwithinfiveminutesofseeingSabrina.ThenIwalkedbacktoBoots&Chutes,andnowI’mleaningagainstthedriver’ssideofSabrina’sHonda,monitoringthefrontentranceinanticipation.
Whensheappears,myexcitementkicksupanotch.She’swearingawoolcoatthatgoesdowntoherknees.Belowthat,herlegsarebare.
MydicktwitchesasIwonderifshe’sstillwearingthosebootyshorts.ThenIchastisemyself,becauseIcouldtellhowembarrassedshewasearlierbytheskimpyoutfit.
“Hey,”shesaysasshereachesme.
“Hey.”
Iwanttokissher,butshe’snotsendinganyc’mere,bigboysignals.Ineedtotouchher,though,soIstepcloserandtuckastrandofhairbehindherear.
Hesitating,shebitesherlip.“Wherearewegoing?”
“Wheredoyouwanttogo?”I’mleavingthedecisionentirelyuptoher.
“Areyouhungry?”
“Nope.Justate.You?”
“Ihadanenergybarduringmylastbreak.”
Iwinkather.“Youthoughtyou’dneedenergy,huh?Why’sthat?”
Hercheekstakeonthecutestshadeofpink.Iseeherfightingasmile,andwhenitbreaksfree,Idoaninternalfistpump.She’ssogorgeouswhenshesmiles.Ireallywishshe’ddoitmoreoften.
Sheglancesaround.“Yourtruck’snothere.”
“Yeah,it’sbackinHastings.WedroveupinFitzy’scar.”
Shenodsandnibblesonherlipagain.“I…well…whatshouldwedo,then?”
“Nopressure.”Imoveevencloser,looselyrestingonehandonherhipwhiletheothertracesthelineofherjaw.Mypulsespeedsupwhenshedoesn’tshyawayfrommytouch.“Wecanwalkaround.Justchillinthecarandtalk.Whateveryouwant.”
Sabrinaletsoutasighthatleavesawhitepuffinthecoldnightair.“Idon’tfeellikewalking.It’scoldoutandmyfeethurtfrombeingonthemallnight.Andmycariswaytoosmallforyou.You’dbeuncomfortableinfiveseconds.”
“Doyouwanttogobacktoyourplace?”
Shetensesup.“Notreally.”Anotherbreathslidesout.“Idon’twantyouto…”
“Towhat?”
“Idon’twantyoutoseewhereIlive.”Shesoundsdefensive.“It’sshitty,okay?”
Myheartsqueezesalittle.Idon’trespond,becauseI’mnotsurewhattosay.
“Well,notmybedroom,”sherelents.“That’snotshitty.”
Sabrinagoessilent,asifshe’sfightingsomeinternalbattle.
“ImeantwhatIsaidbefore,”Itellherinasoftvoice.“Nopressure.Butifyou’reworriedthatI’mgoingtojudgewhereyoulive,stoprightnow.Idon’tcareifyouliveinamansionorashack.Ijustwanttospendtimewithyou,whereverandwhenever.”
WhenIrubherlipswithmythumb,thetensionseepsoutofhershoulders.“Okay,”shefinallywhispers.“Let’sgotomyhouse.”
Isearchherface.“Areyousure?”
“Yeah,it’sfine.I’dratherbesomewherewarmandcozyrightnow.Notthatmyhouseiswarmandcozy,butit’sdefinitelywarmerintherethanitisouthere.”
Havingmadeherdecision,sheunlocksthedriver’sdoorandslidesbehindthewheel.Igetintothepassengerside.Andshe’snotwrong—mylegsarenotdiggingthisvehicle.EvenwhenIpushthechairbackasfarasitcango,there’sstillnoroomtostretchout.
Shestartsthecarandpullsoutofthelot.“Idon’tlivetoofarfromhere.”
Afterthat,shedoesn’tsaymuchfortherestofthedrive.Idon’tknowifshe’snervousorifsheregretsagreeingtohangwithme,butIhopetohellit’snotthelatter.
Idon’tpushhertotalk,becauseIknowhowskittishshecanbe.Patienceisthenameofthegamehere,andpatiencewithSabrinaJamescomeswithareward.She’sgotsomuchpassionthatit’ssimplyamatterofhelpingherreachalevelofcomfortthatallowshertoletgo.
Whenweturnontoherstreet,Ipretendit’sthefirsttimethatI’veeverbeenhere.ThatIdon’trecognizethenarrow,ramshacklerowhouses.ThatIhadn’tsleptinmycarrightoverbythatunevencurbthenightIfollowedherhometomakesureshegottheresafe.
Sabrinaturnsintoadrivewayatthesideofthehouse,steeringtowardthesmallcarportintherear.Shekillstheengineandexitsthecarinsilence.
“Thisway,”shemurmurswhenIroundthevehicle.
Shedoesn’ttakemyhand,butshedoeschecktomakesureI’mfollowingassheclimbsthethreelowstepsofthebackstoop.Herkeysjinglesoftlyinthequietnightassheunlocksthedoor.
Amomentlater,westepintoatinykitchen.Ithasuglyyellow-and-pink-patternedwallpaper,andinthecentersitsasquarewoodtablesurroundedbyfourchairs.Theapplianceslookold,butthey’reclearlyinworkingorderbecausedirtypotsandpansarestrewnatopthestoveburners.
Sabrinablanchesatthemess.“Mygrandmotheralwaysforgetstocleanupafterherself,”shesayswithoutmeetingmygaze.
Iglancearoundthecrampedspace.“It’sjustthetwoofyouhere?”
“No.Mystepfatherlivesheretoo.”Shedoesn’telaborate,andIdon’taskfordetails.“Don’tworry,though.Fridayispokernight—heusuallystaysoutandthenstumbleshomesometimearoundnoonthenextday.AndNanatakesanAmbieneverynightbeforebed.Shesleepslikethedead.”
Iwasn’tworried,butIgetthefeelingshe’snottryingtoreassureme,butherself.
“Myroom’sthisway.”SheducksintothecorridorbeforeIcansayaword.
Itrailafterher,notinghownarrowthehallis,howdirtythecarpetis,howtherearen’tanyfamilyphotoshangingonthewalls.Myheartstartstoache,becausethedroopofSabrina’sshoulderstellsmethatshe’sashamedofthisplace.
Fuck.Ihateseeingherlooksodefeated.IwanttotellheraboutthepeelingpaintinourplacedowninTexas,abouthowfortheentiretyofhighschoolIsleptinthetiniestroominthehousesoMomcouldusethelargerbedroomforherin-homehairsalonthatsupplementstheincomefromherhairdresserjobintown.
Ikeepquiet,though.I’mfollowingherleadhere.
Herroomissmall,tidy,andclearlyhersourceofrefuge.Thedoublebedisperfectlymadewithapalebluecomforter.Herdeskisimmaculate,overloadedwithneatlystackedtextbooks.Itsmellscleanandfreshinhere,likepine,lemonandsomethingaddictivelyfeminine.
Sabrinaunbuttonshercoat,shrugsitoff,anddrapesitoverthedeskchair.
Mymouthwaters.She’dthrownaT-shirtovertheskimpybrathatconstitutesawork“uniform,”butshe’sstillinthoselittleshorts.Andtheheels.Jesusfuck,thoseheels.
“So,”shestarts.
Iunzipmyjacket.“So,”Iecho.
HerdarkeyestrackthemovementofmyhandsasItossthejacketaside.Thensheshakesherheadabruptly,asiftryingtosnapherselfoutof…checkingmeout,Iguess?Ihideagrin.
“ImeantitwhenIsaidIdidn’twanttogetinvolved,”shesays.
“Iknowyoudid.That’swhyIhaven’tcalled.”Iwanderovertothedesk,scanningthetitlesofhertextbooks,allgazillionofthem.
There’sasmallcorkbulletinboardonthewall,withpicturestackedonit.IsmileatashotofSabrinasandwichedbetweentwoothergirls.Theoneonthelefthasbrightredhairandshe’sstickingouthertonguewhilesqueezingSabrina’sbuttinanexaggeratedfashion.Theoneontherighthaslong,thinbraids,andshe’ssmackingakissonSabrina’scheek.Theyobviouslyadoreher,andIfeelasparkofapprovalknowingthereareatleasttwopeopleouttherewhohaveherback.
“Mygirls,”Sabrinaexplains,comingupbesideme.Shepointstotheright.“That’sHope—”Shepointstotheleft.“AndCarin.They’remyangelssentfromheaven.Seriously.”
“Theyseemcool.”MygazetravelsovertheotherpicturesbeforelandingonawhitepieceofpaperwiththeHarvardembleminthecorner.“Holyshit,”Ibreathe.“IsthatwhatIthinkitis?”
Herentirefacelightsup.“Yup.IgotintoHarvardLaw.”
“Fuckyeah!”Iswingaroundandyankhertowardmeforahug.“Congrats,darlin’.I’mproudofyou.”
“I’mproudofmetoo.”Hervoiceismuffledagainstthesideofmyneck.
Ohboy.Thishugwasabadidea.NowallIcanconcentrateonisthewayherround,fulltitsarepressedupagainstmychest.Iswearhernipplesarehardtoo.
Sabrina’sbreathhitchesthemomentshefeelsthechangeinmybody.
“Sorry,”Isayruefully,easingmyhipsback.“Mydickgotconfused.”
Alaughpopsoutofhermouth.Shetiltsherheadtolookupatmewithhumor.Andheat.I’mdefinitelyseeingasparkofheatthere.
“Poorguy,”shemurmurs.“DoIneedtoexplaintohimthedifferencebetweenahugandafuck?”
Je-sus.Thisgirlisnotallowedtosaythewordfuck.Itsoundstoomuchlikeapromisewhenit’sleavingthosepoutylips.
“Ithinkthat’swise,”Ianswersolemnly.“Thoughhe’snotthesmartestfella—youmightneedtogivehimahands-ontutorial.”
Sheliftsaneyebrow.“Whathappenedtonopressure?”
“Ah,I’mjustplaying.Nopressureatall,babe.”Exceptforthepressurebehindmyzipper,thatis.
Shegoesquietforamoment.We’renolongerhugging,butstillstandingonlyafewinchesapart.
“Honestly?”shesays.“Itendtofunctionbetterunderpressure.SometimesIneed…alittlepush.”
Iheartheunspokenquestion,butalthoughmycockgetsharder,Iforcemyselftoshowrestraint.“Iwon’tpushyou.NotunlessI’mahundredpercentsureit’ssomethingyouwant.”Istudyherexpression.“Isitwhatyouwant?”
Shemoistensherlips.“It…is.”
“Notgoodenough.Tellmeexactlywhatyouwant.”
“You.Iwantyou.”
“Bemorespecific.”Fuck,I’mamasochist,apparently.Butthisgirlhasturnedmedowntwicesinceweslepttogether.Ineedtomakesurewe’reonthesamepage.
“Iwantyou.Iwantthis.”Herpalmcoversmypackage,andmyerectionnearlyhammersitswayoutofmypants.
“Wheredoyouwantit?”Myvoiceispuregravel.
“Inmymouth.”
Goodbye,restraint.SabrinaJamesliterallytookawreckingballtoitwiththosethreelust-drenchedwords.
I’mkissingherbeforeeitherofuscanblink.Andit’sthekindofkissthatgoesfromzerotosixtyinahotsecond.Mytongueslidesthroughherpartedlipsinagreedystroke.Shegaspswithdelightandkissesmeback,hertonguetanglingwithmineforafewmind-meltingsecondsbeforeshekissesherwaytowardmyneck.Herbreastsriseassheinhalesdeeply,andthesoftmoanshegiveszipsrighttomyballs.
“Yousmellsogood,”shewhispers,andthenherlipsarealloverme.Travelingalongthetendonsofmyneck,rubbingovermycollarbone,ticklingmychin.Prettymuchdrivingmecrazy.
Sheslidesonehandbetweenusandrubsmeovermypants.Shedoesn’tunzipthem.Doesn’treachinside.Idon’tknowifit’sbecauseshe’steasingorwaitingforthepushshesupposedlyneeds.SinceIdon’thavepatiencefortheformer,Iseizeontothelatter.
“Takemydickout,”Isayroughly.
Herlipscurveteasingly.“WhywouldIdothat?”
“Yousaidyouwantedmeinyourmouth.”Iclenchmyfiststomysides.“Soputmeinyourmouth.”
Shemakesasweetlittlesound,acrossbetweenawhimperandamoanandasigh.Ifeelherfingerstremblingasshepopsopenthebuttonofmyjeans,butIknowit’snotnervesbecauseherexpressionissmokywithexcitement.
“Iwantedtodothisthatnightinyourtruck,”sheconfesses.“ButIwastooimpatienttofeelyouinsideme.”
Shedelicatelydrawsmystiffshaftoutofmyboxersandcurlsherfingersaroundit.Ikickoffmyboots,thenyankmyjeansandunderweardown.Kickthoseawaytoo.
“Shirt,”sheorders,soundingamused.“Iwanttoseeyourchest.”
Thisgirlisgonnakillme.IpeeloffmyshirtandthenI’mstandingtherenakedinfrontofher.Sheremainsfullyclothed,ifyoucouldcallbootyshortsandawhisper-thinT-shirtclothes
Asherheatedgazeeatsmeup,Isendaquickthank-youtothehockeygodsforinventingsuchagruelingsport.Hockey’satough,dangerousgamethatrequireshoursoftraining.It’sgivenmemusclesinplacesIdidn’tevenknowhadmuscles.Andnow,allthathardworkispayingmebacktwofoldbyputtingthishungrylookonSabrina’sface.
“Yourbody’sinsane,”sheinformsme.
Ichuckle.“Pot,kettle,”Ireplybeforecuppinghertitsoverhertop.
Sheswatsmyhandsaway.“Don’tdistractme!Ihaveajobtodo.”
Iflashheralookofchallenge.“Ifiguredyou’dbegoodatmulti-tasking.Consideringyou’realwayssobusy.”
“Oh,Icanmulti-tasklikeapro.Ijustdon’twanttorightnow.Iwanttosavorthis.”Shevoicestheseductivepromisewhileslowlysinkingtoherknees.
Herhairfallsoveroneshoulderasshepeersupatme.Christ,I’veneverseenahottersight.Ireachdownandrubhermouthwithmythumb.Iwanttoseethoselipswrappedaroundme.Iwanttoseeherthroatworkingtotakemein.
“Suckme,”Irumblewhenshecontinuestokneeltherewithouttouchingme.
Shehearsthetorturednoteinmyvoiceandtakespityonme,leaningforwardtokissthetipofmycock.Sheoffersthetiniestflickoftongue,butthataloneisenoughtosendanelectriccurrentupmyspine.Ohman,I’mnotgonnalastlongatall.
Icupthebackofherheadandurgehercloser.Oncommand,sheopenshermouthandhalfmylengthslidesin.Wetheatsurroundsme,makingmegroan.It’sfuckingamazing,andthat’sbeforeshestartsworkingmewithhertongue.
“Ah,fuck,”Ichokeoutwhenshelicksthesensitiveunderside.
Sabrinalaughs,andthesoundripplesthroughmyshaftandpulsesinmyballs.Shetormentsmewithslow,lazypumpsofherhand.Deep,wetpullsofhermouth.Sweet,gentlelicksofhertongue.Andtheentiretime,she’smakingthehottestnoisesI’veeverheard.Tinywhimpersofarousalandbreathymoansthatconfirmshe’sasclosetolosingitasIam.
Istrokeherhair.It’ssodamnsoft,silkyasitmovesbetweenmyfingers.Irockmyhips,slowly,becauseIwanttomakethislast.Butwhenhermouthsuddenlyslidesforwarduntilherlipsarewrappedtightlyaroundmybase,there’snostoppingtheorgasm.
Buriedinherthroat,Igoofflikeafirecracker.IthappenssofastIdon’tevenhavetimetowarnher.
“Sabrina,”Icroak,tryingtopullout.
Shejustmoansandtightensthesuction,takingeverythingIhavetogive.
Thepleasureissointenseitalmostfellsme.Mykneesknocktogether.Mybrainstoppedproducingcoherentthoughtsrightaroundthetimesheputhermouthonme.
EventuallyIregisterthesoftcaressofherhandovermythighs,thetickleofherfingersalongmyshaftasshegivesonefinalstrokebeforerisingtoherfeet.
“Thatwasfun,”shetellsme.
Isputterwithlaughter.Fun?Talkaboutanunderstatement.
“Itwasfuckingincredible,”Icorrect,yankinghertowardme.
Ikissheruntilshe’sbreathless.MylegsarestillshakingbutmyhandsarerocksteadyasImethodicallypulloffherT-shirtandthentugonthestringthat’skeepingherbikini-stylebrainplace.Ourmouthsstilllocked,Inudgehertowardthebed,advancingonheruntilshehasnochoicebuttofallontoherelbowsandstretchoutonherback.
Ipopherheelsoff,onebyone,takingthetimetokisseachofhershapelyankles.ThenIgetridofherbootyshorts,whipthemacrosstheroom,andreachfortheheelsagain.
Sabrinaraisesabrow.“You’reputtingthembackonme?”
“HellyeahIam.Youhavenoideahowhotyoulookintheseheels.”
Ieaseonesmallfootbackintoastiletto,thentheother.WhenI’mdone,Istareatherforalong,longmomentandwonderhowIevergotthislucky.She’salllonglimbsandsweetcurvesandsmootholive-tonedskin.Herdarkhairisfannedoutbehindherhead,herredlipsareglossyandparted.Andthosefuck-meheels…Christ.She’stheultimatewetdream.
Iriseonmykneesandshufflecloser.Mydickiswakingupagain,butIignorehim.HecantakefivewhileIplayalittle.
“Ican’tgetoverhowbeautifulyouare,”Irasp,bringingmyhandbetweenherlegs.
WhenIrubthepadofmythumboverherclit,herhipsjerkoffthebedinresponse.
Ismile.Onebarelytheretouchandshe’salreadyhotforme.Ormaybeshegothotwhenshewasgivingmeablowjobthatbelongsinthehistorybooks.
Itrailmyfingerdownherslittowardheropening,groaningwhenIdiscoverthatshe’ssoakingwet.“DidIdothis?”Imutter.
Mischiefdancesinhereyes.“Sorry,butno.IwaspretendingyouwereTomHardythewholetimeIwasblowingyou.”
“Bull.Shit.”Ipushonefingerinsideherandshesqueaksloudly.“Youknewexactlywhosedickwasinyourmouth.”
Sabrinasquirmsagainstmyprobingfinger.Iaddanotherone,curlthemboth,andstrokeherinnerchannelwhilemythumbteasinglycirclesherclit.
“Fine,Iknew,”shegaspsout.“Whoneedstopictureamoviestarwhenyou’realreadyafantasycometolife?”
Damnedifmyegodoesn’tlikehearingthat.Andmycockdefinitelylikesthewayherpussyisclenchingaroundmyfingers.Irememberhowtightshewasthelasttime,howgooditfelt,andonceagainIforgetthatI’mtryingtobepatient.
Groaning,Ispreadherthighswithmyfreehandandleandowntoburymyfacewheremydickwantstobe.Whenmytonguetouchesher,shemoansloudenoughtowakethedead.Hopefullythatsleepingpillhergrandmothertookisdoingitsjob,otherwisewe’reinforamightyawkwardinterruption.
Ikissandlickandsuckandplayuntilmybodycan’ttakeitanymore.Untilmymindshutsdownagain,emptysaveforonethought:needtobeinsideher
WrenchingmymouthawayresultsinSabrina’sgrumbleofdisappointment.Mybeardhasleftpinksplotchesalloverherthighs,butshedoesn’tseemtocare.She’ssquirmingandscissoringherlegs,asexed-uplookonherface.
“Tucker,”shebegs.
“Holdon,darlin’.”Ileanovertheedgeofthebedtograbmypants,thenwhipoutthecondominmywallet.
Shewatchesmesuitup.Hergazeisnolongercloudywithfrustration.It’sonfire,blazingwithanticipation.
“Getinsideme,”sheorders.
“Yes,ma’am.”
Withagrin,Icrawlbacktoher,onefistgraspingmydicktoguideitinsideher.WebothgroanwhenIdriveindeep.Butapparentlyit’snotdeepenough.Herlegs,longandsilkyandincredible,instantlywraparoundmywaist.Shedigsherheelsintomyassandliftsherhipstodeepenthecontact,andit’sthebestfuckingfeelingintheworld.
Idropdownuntilmyelbowsarerestingoneithersideofherhead.“Beautiful,”Imumble,staringdownatherflushedface.Idipmyheadandkissheragain,whilemycockpulsesinthetightheatofherbody.
Itrytokeepitslow.Itrymyfuckinghardest.ButSabrinahasotherideas.
Sheshovesherhandinmyhairandpullsuntilourmouthsbreakapart.“Ineedmore.”ShesoundsasdesperateasIfeel.
“Tellmewhatyouneed.”
“This.”Shegrabsmyhandandpushesittowherewe’rejoined.Herfingerscovermyknucklesassheurgesmetostrokeherclit.“Andthis.”Shebucksupwardandstartsfuckingherselfonme.
Andthat’sthegame,ladiesandgentleman.
Myslow,measuredpaceexplodestodust.Initsplace,pureanimalfucking.IdrillintoherwitheverythingI’vegot.Theheelofmyhandstaysgluedtoherswollenclit,rubbingintimetoeachfranticthrust.Withinsecondswe’rebothsweaty,breathlessmesses.Themattressspringscreakfromtheforceofourfucking.Theheadboardslamsagainstthewallinarhythmicthump-thump-thumpthatmatchesthewildpoundingofmyheart.
ShecomesbeforeIdo,clutchingmyshouldersassheshuddersbeneathme.Theblowjobhadtakentheedgeoff,soIlastlonger.Hell,longerthanIwantto,becauseI’mdyingtocome.Everymuscleinmybodyiscoiledtight,screamingforreleasethat’sstilloutofreach.
“Letgo,”Sabrinamurmurs.
Andthenherfingersdigintomyasscheeks,onedriftsalongthecrease,and—
That’sthegame.
Ishootwithahoarsecry.Iforgetmyname.Iprobablyblackoutforaminute.Ifeelloopyandwonderfulandmyballsarestilltingling,butIthinkImightbecrushingher,soIforcemyweakbodyoffhersandcollapseontomyback.
“Holyfuck,”Imumble,staringupattheceiling.“Thatwas—”
Aknockonthedoorcutsmeoff.
“Havingfuninthere?”aslurredmalevoicedrawls.“Becauseitsuresoundslikeit.”
Sabrinafreezeslikeadeerinthemiddleofacountryroad.Thesexglowshe’dbeensportingfadesinstantly.Herfaceturnsashen,herfingerscurlingintothebedspread.
“Goaway,”shesnapsatthedoor.
“What?You’renotgonnaintroducemetoyourfriend?Don’tbesorude,Rina.”
“Goaway,Ray.”
Butthesonofabitchisn’tgoinganywhere.Hestartsrappingonthedooragain,drunkenlaughterechoinginthehall.“Lemmemeetyourfriend!C’mon,I’llbenice.”
Sabrinajumpsoffthebedandstartssnatchinguppiecesofclothing.Iquicklydothesame,becauseit’sobviousthatlyingaroundnakedisn’tinthecards.
Shethrowsonatanktopandapairofcottonshorts,thenstalkstothedoorandflingsitopen.“Getthefuckawayfrommydoor,Ray.Imeanit.”
Themaninthedoorwaypushespasther,craninghisnecktogetagoodlookatme.Whenourgazeslock,helaughsagain.
“Aw,you’vegotyourselfalittlejockbuddy!Checkoutthemusclesonthisone!”HisgreasyhairflopsontohisforeheadasheswingshisheadtowardSabrina.“Youlikethemuscles,huh?Yeah,youdefinitelylike’em.Heardyousquealinglikeabitchinheatallthewayfromthelivingroom.”
“Getout,”Sabrinagrowls.
“Yousoundhotwhenyoucome—”
Fuckthis.AngerboilsinmygutasIchargeforward.Idon’tgiveashitthatthismanisSabrina’sstepfather.Thesickfuckisnotallowedtospeaktoherlikethat
“That’senough,”Isayinalowvoice.“Sheaskedyoutoleave.”
Hiseyebrowsshootup.“Whothefuckareyoutogivemeorders?Thisismyhouse,boy.”
“Andthisisherroom,”Iretort.
“Tucker,”shestarts,butRayinterruptsher.
“Rina,tellyourjocktoshuthistrap.OtherwiseI’llshutitforhim.”
Yeahright.Icouldknockthisfuckeroutwithonepunch.He’ssodrunkhe’sswayingonhisfeet.
“Ray.”Sabrina’svoiceisdeceptivelyquiet.“I’dlikeyoutoleave,please.”
Silencehangsbetweenthethreeofus.Finally,Rayrollshiseyesinadramaticfashionandedgesbacktothedoor.“Jeez,youreallyareastuck-upbitch,aren’tya?Iwasjustplayingaround.”
“Playsomewhereelse,”Isaycoldly.
“Shutup,jockboy.”Buthedoesn’tstickaround.
Wehearhisunsteadyfootstepsinthehallway.Amomentlater,adoorshuts.
Slowly,IturnbacktoSabrina.Mystomachtwistswithconcern.Andthere’sapangoffeartoo,becauseIhatetheideathattheassholesleepsonlytwodoorsdownfromher.
BeforeIcanspeak,shetucksherhairbehindbothearsandsays,“I’mreallytired.Youshouldprobablygonow.”
Mygazedartstothehallway.
“Hewon’tbotherme,”shewhispers,asifreadingmymind.“Ilockmydooratnight.”
I’mnotsurealockeddoorwillkeepthatfuckheadout.Rayisn’tastallorbulkyasIam,buthe’snotpuny,either.Doughy,yes,butnotpuny…
“I’llbefine,”sheinsists,andthelookonherfacetellsmeshe’saseagerformetogoasIamtostay.
“Areyousureyou’llbeallright?”Ifinallyask.
Shenods.
“Okay.I…guessI’llgothen.”IslidemyphoneoutofmypocketandpullupmyUberapp.ThenItakeaneedlesslylongtimewithit,hopingthatshe’llchangehermind.
Shedoesn’t.ShewaitssilentlywhileItrackdownacar,thenwalksmetothekitchen,holdsthedooropenforme,andmurmursasoft,“Goodnight.”
Shedoesn’tkissmegoodbye.10
Sabrina
I’mnotsureifu’veblockedmeagain.Ontheoffchanceuhaven’t,urfuckingspectacularinbed.Urhotbodyalmosteclipsesthatsexybrainofurs.Almost.Iwanttoseeuagain.Inbed,outofit.Whatever.
IliketopretendthatI’mimpervioustoordinarythingslikefeelings.Thatmyfocusissopreciseandlaser-like,nothingcanpushmeoffthepathIsetformyselfbackinsixthgrade.ButasIstareacrossthequadatsomegirlrubbingupagainstTucker,thoughtsofHarvardandperfectgradesandstickingittoallthehatersarepushedasidebyarushofgreenjealousy.
Iwanttomarchoverthere,whipoutmyphone,andshoveascreenshotofhissextinfrontofherface.See,he’smine,I’dsnarlandthenI’ddraghimaway.OrmaybeI’dthrowhimdownandridehiminfrontoftheentireBriarcampus.
“B,you’relookinglikeyoudon’tknowifyouwanttokillAmberPivalisorfuckTucker.Eitheroneisillegalonschoolgrounds.”Hopelaughsinmyear.
Amber?Hernameisgoinginmyburnbook.
“Idon’thavetimeforthis,”Imutter,shiftingmybookshigherinmyarms.I’mnotsureifI’mtalkingtomyselforHopeatthispoint.Bothofus,maybe.
“Howarewedefining‘this’?YoursuddenobsessionwithTuckeroryourmaddeningrefusaltoactuallyallowyourselftoenjoylife?”
“Ifyoureyebrowgoesupanyhigheronyourforehead,itwillofficiallybepartofyourhairline,”ismynon-answer.
“Beingaroundyoucausestheseweirdtics.”Hopewagglesbotheyebrows.
“DoyoumakethesefacesinbedwithD’Andre?Isitsomestrangefetishofhis?”
“YouknowwhatD’Andre’sfetishisandit’snotmyeyebrows.”
“OhGod.Right.I’msorryIbroughtitup.”D’Andre’sasspreferencehasnotgoneunnoticedbyanyofHope’sfriends,butit’snotsomethingIliketodwellon,notevenasadistractionfromAmber.
MissThangiscurrentlywalkingherfingersupTucker’sarmwhilehelistensintentlytoeverystupidthingthatcomesoutofherstupidmouth.Imean,shecouldbetellinghimaboutNietzsche’stheoriesofnihilism,butit’dstillbestupidbecauseTucker’senraptured.
“ArewegoingtostandherealldayandwatchtheAmber/Tuckershow,orarewegoingtoeat?”
Theirnamesdon’tevensoundrighttogether.TheircelebritynicknamewouldbeTamberorAucker,andbothoptionsaredumb.
MineandTucker’scelebritynamewouldbeSucker,whichcouldeitherrefertosexortothewayIfeelrightnow—likeasucker.Becausewhythehellisheflirtingwithsomeotherchickaftersendingmethatsext?
“Eat,”Igrumble,butmylegsarepropellingmewest,whichisnotthedirectionofthedininghall.
“YouknowCarver’stoourleft,right?”Hopesoundslikeshe’stryingnottobustagut.
Ibarreltoahalt,butit’stoolate.Tucker’sheadliftsandhespotsme.Icanfeelthewarmthofhissmilefromhere.
Ohshit,thiswasamistake.Threenightsagowasamistake.Aweekagowasamistake.Stompingacrossthequadlikeajealousgirlfriendisdefinitelyamistake.
IgrabHope’sarmandwalkveryquicklyintheoppositedirection.“I’mstarved.Let’sgoeat.”
“YourealizethatrunningissomethingIonlydoonthetreadmillwhilewearingmysneaksandrunninggear,correct?”Shetrotsnexttome,tryingtokeepuponfeetthatarecladinexpensivesuedebootswithaheelastallasmyhand
Iwalkevenfaster.“Can’thearyou.Embarrassmentisshort-circuitingmynervoussystem.”
“Ifembarrassmentiscausingyourmalfunctionnow,I’dlovetoknowwhatitwasthatcausedyoutorunacrossthequad.”
Asifshedoesn’tknow.BeforeIcanrespond,though,Tuckershowsuponmyright.
“Where’sthefire?”hedrawls.
Hopegrindstoahalt.“ThankGodyoucaughtupwithus.”Sherunsahandacrossherforeheadinanexaggeratedmotion.“I’mnotcutoutforoutdoorexertions.”
“Stowit,Hopeless,”Ihissoutofthesideofmymouth.
Shegrinsunrepentantly.“I’mgoinginsidetosaveusaseat.Whenyou’redone,comefindme.”ShereachespastmetogiveTucker’sbicepsasqueeze.“You’rewelcometojoinus,handsome.”
Someonegrowls.Ihopeeveryonethinksit’smystomach,butbyHope’sbroadgrinandTucker’ssmirk,IknowI’mbusted.AtleastTuckerhasthedecencytowaituntilHope’soutofearshotbeforeheopenshismouth.
“Ignoringmytextsagain?”
“Itwasonetext,andit’sonlybeenthreedays.”Istarestubbornlyaheadandnotintohisgorgeousfaceorhisdeepbrowneyes.
“Butwho’scounting,right?”
Idon’tevenneedtolookathimtoknowhe’ssmiling.It’sinhiseveryword.
Westandthereforamoment,neitherofusspeaking.Isupposehe’slookingatmewhileI’mlookingateverythingbuthim.Finally,Ifindmyovariesandturntofacehim.
Thesmilehaswornoff.Nowhesportsaslightlyquizzicalfrown,asifhe’sdecidedI’mapuzzlethathe’stryingtosolve.Adozenquestionswhirlaroundinmyhead,andItakeamomenttosortthroughthemuntilIarriveattheonethatbothersmethemost—thehorriblescenewithRaybeforeTuckerleftmyhouseonFridaynight.
“IwenttoHarvardtheotherday,”Ibeginawkwardly.“Isatinthelobbyandsomestudentmistookmeforapoorpersoninneedoflegalaid.”
“Shit.”
Iwaveoffthesympathy.“AfterItoldhimIwasactuallygoingtobeattendingHarvardwithhimnextfall,Iwenttoseetheprofessorwho’sgoodfriendswithmyadvisorandshetoldmetobuynewclothes.Upuntilthisweekend,thatwasprobablyoneofthemorehumiliatingeventsinmylife.Well,ifyoudon’tcountthedayinmiddleschoolwhenIunexpectedlygotmyperiodduringgymclass.Whileclimbingarope.”
Hechuckles.“Ouch.”
“But…youhearingallthatshitthatmystepdadsaid?”Ipausetoshudder.“That’sasceneI’dliketoerase.”
“Sabrina—”
Icuthimoff.“MylifeislikeonehorribleepisodeafteranotheroftheRealHousewivesofSouthBoston:SlumEdition.AndifIdon’tkeepgettingperfectgrades,ifIcan’tcompete—”MyvoicecracksslightlyandIhavetostop.
Tuckerdoesn’tsayanything.He’swatchingmewithanindecipherableexpression.
Iclearmythroat.“IfIcan’tcompete,thenIcan’tgetoutofthere,which,frankly,isunacceptabletome.Sowhilesexwithyouissogoddamnamazing,it’sdistracting.You’redistracting,”Iconfess.
Heletsoutaslow,steadybreath.“Baby.Youthinkyou’retheonlyonewithanembarrassingfamilymember?MyUncleJimisliterallyoneofthosecreepyguysthatgivetheunclestereotypelife.He’salwaystouchinghisfamilymembersinweirdways.Noneofmyfemalecousinswanttobearoundhim.IfIbroughtyoutoafamilyreunion,he’dbemakingsomegrossstatementandtryingtograbyourass.Idon’tthinkyou’dholdthatagainstme,wouldyou?”
“No,but…”Istarttosaythatit’snotthesame,butwebothknowthat’snottrue.Itisthesame.Rayisn’tmydad.He’ssomedouchebagmymommarriedandleftbehindlikeanunwantedpieceofluggage.Likeme.
“Anddespitewhatyouthink,Idon’thavemoney.I’mhereonafull-ridehockeyscholarship.IfBriarhadn’tofferedthat,IwouldbeatastateschoolinTexas.”Heshrugs.“IhavesomesavingsandIplantousethattojumpstartmypost-collegelife,butI’mnottheassholeyouthinkIam.”
“Idon’tthinkyou’reanasshole,”Imumble,butIdon’tdenythatI’mleeryofguyswithmoney.
Hestudiesmeforamoment.“Letmeaskyouthis.Dean’strustfundearnsmoreininterestinonequarterthanwhatmyentireinheritanceisworth.Didhisdickfeeldifferentwhenyouwerewithhim?”
Icringeforamoment,becausemydrunkenhookupwithDeanDiLaurentisisn’tsomethingIliketodwellon.Atthesametime,thethoughtofDean’smoneymakinghisdickfeeldifferentissosilly,Ican’tstopasnortfromcomingout.“Idon’tremember.Iwaswastedandsowashe.”
“Didyoufeellikeamillionbucksthenextday?”
“God,no.”
“Somoneydoesn’tmatteronceyougetdowntoit.Itdoesn’tmatterhowthinorthickanyone’swalletis.Weallhurt.Wealllove.We’rethesame.Andyourpast,whoyoulivewith,whereyoucamefrom,itdoesn’thavetomatter.You’recreatingyourownfuture,andIwanttoseewheretheroadforwardtakesyou.”Tuckerslidesafingerunderthestrapofmymessengerbag.“Weshouldgetsomefoodinyou.HowaboutIcarrythiswhileIwalkyoutothedininghall?”
Apparentlyphilosophyclassisover,whichI’mhappyaboutbecauseI’mnotpreparedtorespondtoanythinghejustsaid.
Instead,Ilethimtakethebag.WewalkinsilenceforafewstepsbeforeI’mcompelledtoask,“Doesnothingshakeyou?”
Henodssolemnlyashehitchesthebaghigherontohisshoulder.Anyoneelsewouldlookslightlyridiculouswithabackpackstrappedtohisbackandamessengerbaghangingoffhisshoulder,butsomehow,probablybecauseofhismassivechestandheight,hepullsitoff.
“Yeah,allkindsofthings,butItrynottoletthemgetmedown.It’sawasteofenergy.”
“Justnameone,”Ibeg.“Oneembarrassingthing.Oneflaw.Onethingthatbothersyou.”
“Younotcallingmebackbothersme.”
“That’sself-effacing,notembarrassing.”
“You’veturnedmedown.Twice,”heremindsme.“Howisadmittingthatitbothersmeself-effacing?”
“Becausewehadgoodsex,soyouknowI’dsleepwithyouagainunderdifferentcircumstances,”Iargue.
Somewhereinthebackofmymind,Iacknowledgethatthisconversationisreachingludicrouslevels.I’marguingwithaguyIsleptwithabouthowIcan’tsleepwithhimagainbecausehe’stoogoodinbed.Mylifeisofficiallyafarce.
“What’sanormalcircumstanceforyou?”heaskscuriously,matchinghislongstridewithmyshorterone.
“Idon’tknow.Ican’tseethatfarahead.”
HepullstoastoprightbeforetheentranceofCarverHall.“Bullshit.”
“What?”
“Bullshit.Youknowexactlywhereyouwanttobeinprobablyfiftyyears,notjustthenextfive.”
Mycheeksheatup,becausehe’sright.
“Listen.Here’showitis.”Tuckerreachesoutandgrabsastraylockofmyhair,rubbingitbetweenhisfingersbeforetuckingitbehindmyear.“Ienjoyedsleepingwithyou.IenjoyedhearingthosesexylittlemoansyoumadewhenIsuckedonyourclit,andIenjoyedfeelingyoushakelikealeafwhenyoucameapartunderneathme.”Hisdirtywordsareinstarkcontrasttohismatter-of-facttoneandthesteadywayhestaresintomyeyes.“ButIdidn’tlikethewayyourdad—”
“Stepdad,”Icorrect.
“—Stepdadtreatedyou.Ihatedit,actually.IhatethatyoulivewiththatandI’mgladyou’remakingyourwayoutofit,becausethat’swhatyou’redoing,right?You’rekillingyourselftogetperfectgrades,topscores,admissiontothebestschools,allsoyoucanescape.”
Histhumbdragsalongtheappleofmycheek.“Idon’twanttobeadistraction,butIdowantyou.Ithinkthere’ssomethinghere,butI’mapatientguyandI’lltakewhatyouhaverightnow.I’mnotheretoaddpressureonyouormakethingsharder.Iwanttoeaseyourload.”
Myheartthumpsloudlyinthespacebetweenus,thespacethathecloseswithonestep.
“MydaddiedwhenIwasthree,”hesaysgruffly.“Itwasacaraccident.Ihavealmostnomemoryofhim.Idorememberwakinguphearingmymomcryatnight,though.Irememberseeingherfacewhenshecouldn’tgetmeanewpairofskatesoranewvideogame.IrememberhowshegotangrywithmewhenIwasroughhousinginthelivingroomonceandIputalampthroughthetelevision.Shereamedmeoutgoodforthat.”Hisexpressionisruefulratherthanangry.“SheworkedtwojobstomakesureIcouldplayhockey,andwhenIgraduatethisspringI’mgoingtotakeherawayfromallthathardwork.ButIalsoknowIwantsomeonetosharemylifewith.Mymom’slonely.Idon’twantthatforme.AndIdon’twantthatforyoueither.”
Whenhekissesme,it’snotanythinglikeourpreviousencounters.Thosewererough,hot,andsexuallycharged.Thiskissispetal-softandsweetasthesyrupheladlesontohiswords.Itfeelslikehe’spouringtendernessovermyheadbythegallon.Witheachpressofhislipsagainstmine,he’srepeatinghispromisetogivemenothingmorethanwhatIaskfor.
Andit’sthiskiss.Thissweet,tender,thoughtfulkissthatscaresmemorethananythingI’veeverfelt.11
Tucker
AcoupledaysaftermytalkwithSabrinainthequad,IheavemyselfoffFitzy’scouchandgetreadyforabrutallyearlymorningpractice.Ididn’tplanoncrashingathisplacelastnight,butourvideogamesessionlasteduntiltwoa.m.andtherewasnopointindrivinghomewhenwehadtowakeupatfive-thirtyforasixo’clockpractice.
Fitzylivesaloneinashoebox-sizedapartmentinHastings.His“bedroom”isseparatedfromthelivingroombyacurtainhehungfromtheceiling.Gettingtothetinybathroomprettymuchrequiresmetoclimboverhisbed.
Thebigtattooedhockeyplayerissprawledonhisstomach,sleepinglikethedead,soInotsonicelysmackhisassasIheadforthebathroom.
“Wakeup,dude.Practice,”Igrunt.
Hemumblessomethingunintelligibleandrollsover.
Ifindasparetoothbrushinadrawernexttothesinkandtearitopen.AsIbrushmyteeth,IscrollthroughmyphonetoseeifSabrinatextedwhenmyphonewasonsilentlastnight.
Shedidn’t.Damn.Iwashopingmyspeech—andthatamazingfuckingkiss—might’vechangedhermindaboutgoingoutwithme,butIguessitdidn’t.
Ido,however,findthemostmind-bogglingconversationinthegroupchatIhavewithmyroommates.Allthemessagesarefromlastnight,andthey’rebizarreasfuck.
Garrett:Thehells,D?!
Dean:It’snotwhatyouthink!!
Logan:It’shardtomistakeurromanticbathwiththatgiantpinkthing!Inurass!
Dean:Itwasn’tinmyass!
Garrett:I’mnotevengoingtoaskwhereitwas
Dean:Ihadagirlover!
Garrett:Suuuuuuuuure
Logan:Suuuuuuuuure
Dean:Ihateyouguys
Garrett:<3
Logan:<3
Irinsemymouthout,spit,anddropthetoothbrushintothelittlecuponthesink.ThenIquicklytypeoutatext.
Me:Wait…whatdidImiss?
Sincewehavepracticeintwentyminutes,theguysarealreadyawakeandclearlyontheirphones.Twophotospopupsimultaneously.GarrettandLoganhavebothsentmepicsofpinkdildos.I’mevenmoreconfusednow.
Deanmessagesimmediatelywith,Whydoyouguyshavedildopicshandy?
Logan:ALINIMB
Dean:??
Me:??
Garrett:AtLeastIt’sNotInMyButt.
Isnorttomyself,becauseI’mstartingtopieceittogether.
Logan:Nice,G!Ugotthatonthefirsttry!
Garrett:Wespendtoomuchtime2gether.
Me:PLEASEtellmeucaughtDplayingw/dildos.
Logan:Suredid.
Deanisquicktoobjectagain.
IHADAGIRLOVER!
TheguysandIragonhimforacouplemoreminutes,butIhavetostopwhenFitzystumblesintothebathroomandshovesmeaside.He’sgotcrazybedheadandhe’sbuck-naked.
“Gottapiss,”hemumbles.
“Mornin’,sunshine,”Isaycheerfully.“Wantmetomakeyousomecoffee?”
“God.Yes.Please.”
Chuckling,Iduckoutofthebathroomandwalkthefourorsostepsintohiskitchenette.Whenhefinallyemerges,Ishoveacupofcoffeeinhishand,sipmyown,andsay,“Deanshovedadildouphisasslastnight.”
Fitzynods.“Makessense.”
Isnickermid-sip.Coffeespillsovertherimofmycup.“Itreallydoes,huh?”
Hegivesanothernodandchugstherestofhiscoffee.I’malreadydressedandreadytogo,soIleisurelyfinishmydrinkwhileFitzydashesaroundtheapartmentinsearchofsomeclothes.
Fiveminuteslater,westepoutsideintotheearlymorningchillandheadofftoourrespectivecars.LuckilyI’vegotmygearintheback,soIdon’thavetostopatthehousefirst.Andalthoughit’sstupidasfuck,FitzandIracetocampuslikeabunchofspeeddemons.Hewins,becausemytruckisoldandslowerthanmolasses.
Wemakeittothearenawithtenminutestospare,whichisgoodbecausemyphonechoosesthatmomenttoring.MypulsequickensatthethoughtthatitmightbeSabrina.
It’snot.I’mslightlydisappointedwhenIseeMom’snumberandthenfeelbadaboutitbecauseIlovemymom.
“I’llseeyouinthere,”IcallouttoFitzy,who’shoppingoutofhiscar.Henodsandamblesoff,whileIanswerthecall.“Hey,Mom.Practiceisabouttostart,soIdon’thavealottatime.”
“Aw,Iwon’tkeepyouthen.Iwasjustcallingtocheckinandsayhi.”
Herfamiliarvoicecausessomethinginsideofmetosoften.Iswear,Momalwayshasthateffectonme.Icouldbetenseasshit,andonewordfromherloosensallmymuscles.IguessI’mamama’sboy,butit’snotlikeIcouldbeanythingelse,seeingashowIdon’thaveadad.
“You’reupearly,”Iremark.It’sonlyfiveo’clockinTexas,whichisearlyevenforher.
“Couldn’tsleep,”sheadmits.“I’mstylinganentirebridalpartythismorning.I’mnervous.”
“Ah,there’snothingtobenervousabout.You’rethehairwhisperer,remember?”
Momlaughs.“ThatIam.Butmakeup,notsomuch.ThosecoursesItooklastsummerhelped,butjeez,kiddo,I’mfreakingouthere!HowcouldIeverlivewithmyselfifIwasthewomanwhoruinedabride’sbigdaybypaintingherfacelikeaclown!”
“You’lldofine,”Iassureher.“Iguaranteeit.”
“Oooh,aguarantee?Notevenasimpleol’promise?You’vegotalotofconfidenceinyourmama,John.”
“OfcourseIdo.Becausemymama’sarockstar.”
“Ireallyraisedacharmer,huh?”
“Yup.”IgrinasIbalancethephoneonmyshoulderandslideoutofthepickup.
“Okay,givemeaquickrundownofwhatyou’vebeenupto,”sheorders.
ImakemywaytothemassivefrontstepsofBriar’shockeyfacility.“Notmuch,”Iconfess.“Hockey,school,friends—theusual.”
“Stillnogirlfriend?”There’sateasingnoteinhervoice.
“Nope.”Ihesitate.“Ididmeetsomeone,though.”
“Oooh!Tellmeeverything!”
Laughing,IreachintomypocketformystudentIDtounlockthefrontdoors.Securityistighthere.“Nothingtotellyet.ButwhenI’vegotmoredetails,you’llbethefirsttoknow.Anyway,Igottago.Walkingintotherink.”
“Allright,callmewhenyou’vegotmoretimetochat.Loveyou,baby.”
“Loveyoutoo.”
IhangupandswipemyIDinthekeypad,thenbarrelintothesleek,air-conditionedlobbywhereframedjerseyshangonthewallsandcolorfulchampionshippennantsstreamdownfromtheceiling.
IwishI’dhadmoretimetotalktoMom,butwhenitcomestoBriarhockey,there’snosuchthingasslacking.CoachJensenrunsatop-notchprogramthatpridesitselfonexcellenceandhardwork.Justbecausewe’resuckingballsthesedaysdoesn’tmeanthosefundamentalshavebeenlost.
Inabriskstride,Iheadforthelockerrooms.Istillhavemyphoneinhand,andafteramomentofhesitation,IgiveintotheurgetotextSabrina.
Me:Mornin,darlin.Giveanythoughttowhatwetalkedabout?I’vegotafirstdateofferherewithurnamewrittenalloverit…
ThenIputmyphoneawayandgotopractice.
*
Sabrina
I’malreadylatetomeetthegirls,butwhenIflyoutsideaftermyeveningtutorial,IknowinstantlythatI’mabouttobeevenlater.
BeauMaxwellandafewofhisbuddiesarecongregatingatthebottomofthesteps,surroundedbyhalfadozenfootballgroupies.FromwhereI’mstanding,it’sobviousthattheboysareenjoyingtheattention.AlthoughBriarisprimarilyahockeycollege,thefootballplayersgetplentyoflimelightaroundheretoo
“S!”
Beaubreaksawayfromthegroupwhenhespotsmeonthesteps.Hisblueeyeslightup,whichbringsuglyscowlstothefacesofthegirlsaroundhim.Theyclearlydon’tappreciatemypoachingtheirquarterbackslashpotentialhookupforthenight,butIdon’tparticularlycare.Ihaven’tspokentoBeauinweeks,andIcan’tdenythatI’mhappytoseehim.
Idescendthestairswhileheascendsthemandwemeethalfwayforahug.Strong,musculararmswraparoundmeandswingmerightoffmyfeet.Ilaugh,ignoringthegroupieswhoaremurderingmewiththeireyes.
“Hey,”Isaywhenhesetsmebackonmyfeet.“How’veyoubeen?”
“Notgreat,actually.Notgreatatall.Mybediscoldandlonelywithoutyouinit.”
Icantellhe’sjokingbecausehispoutisexaggerated.Andeventhatsillyexpressiondoesn’tmakehimanylesshandsome.Withhisdarkhairandchiseledfeatures,Beau’ssexyashell.Wemetatapartylastspringwhere,withinseconds,hesuckedmeinwithhisdimpledgrinandeasy-goingcharm.Ithinkwefellintobedwitheachotherabouttenminutesafterthat,andhe’soneoftherareguysIallowedmyselftoseemorethanonce.
Exceptnowwe’restandingfacetoface,andhe’sdoingnothingforme.Notingles.Noheat.NoIwanttohitthatagain.AsgorgeousasBeauis,he’snottheoneIwanttobenakedwiththesedays.
ThathonorfallstoJohnTucker.AKAthesweetest,hottest,mostpatientguyontheplanet.AKAtheguywhoaskedmeoutviatextthismorningandwhoIstillhaven’ttextedback.
“Seriously,baby,whatdidIdotodeservesuchpunishment?”Heclutcheshisheartwithmockpain,andthescowly,fumygroupiesgetscowlierandfumier.
“Uh-huh.I’msureyourbed’sbeenmiserablyemptysinceIleftit.Ibetyou’relivingthesad,lonelylifeofamonk.”
“Notquite.”Hewinks.“Butyoucouldatleasttrytoactlikeyoumissboningdownwithallthis—”Hesweepsahandinfrontofhimfromheadtotoe.
Andyeah,“allthis”ismightyappealing.I’mtalkingbigchest,sculptedarms,longlegs,andmusclestospare.
ButTuckerhasallthosethingstoo.
“Iseeyouregoisstillasmassiveasever,”Isaycheerfully.
Beaunodsfervently.“Itis.Notasbigasmydick,ofcourse—”
“Ofcourse.”
“ButI’mnotcomplaining.”
“Otherthanyourbigdickandego,how’slife?How’sJoanna?”I’dmetBeau’soldersisterJoannaatoneofhisparties,andwatchingthetwoofthembickerhadbeenhighlyentertaining.
“She’sgreat.StilldoingthatshowonBroadwayandkillingit.”Hesighs.“Sheasksaboutyouallthetime.”
“Shedoes?”
“Ohyeah.ShethinksI’manidiotfornotmakingyoumygirlfriend.”
“Makingme?”Iechodryly.
“ItriedtotellherthatI’mtoomuchmanforyou,butJoinsiststhatyou’retoomuchwomanforme.She’swrong,obviously.”
Mylipstwitchinhumor.“Obviously.Whatelse?How’stheseasongoing?”
Hislaidbackexpressionfaltersslightly.“Team’slosttwogamesalreadythisseason.”
Sympathytugsatmychest.Iknowhowimportantfootballistohim.“I’msureyoucanstillturnthingsaround,”Iassurehim,thoughIhavenoideaifthat’seventrue.
Apparentlyit’snot.“Naah,we’refucked,”hesaysglumly.“Twolossesprettymuchguaranteeswewon’tmaketheplayoffs.”
Ah,crap.Andit’shislastyearatBriartoo.“Hey,butatleastyouledtheteamtoonechampionshipduringyourtimehere,”Iremindhim.“Thatcountsforsomething,right?”
“Sure.”Buthedoesn’tsoundconvincedofthat.Heclearshisthroatandoffersasmilethatlacksthelusterfrombefore.“Anyway,I’mgladIranintoyou.Ipromisednottosayanythingaboutthis,butIfiguredit’scooltobringituptoyousinceyou’retheotherparty.”
Iwrinklemyforehead.“Theotherpartyofwhat?”
Hegrinsbroadly,andthistimeitdoesreachhiseyes.“Tuck’sepicpursuitofyou.”
OhGod.
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Isqueak.
“Ha.Don’tplaydumb,baby.It’sbeenlikeaweeksincehetrackedmedownatthegym,andIknowtheguy—nowaydidhegoaweekwithouttrackingyoudown.”
Anxietypricksmybelly.BeauandImighthaveendedthingsonfantasticterms,butthatdoesn’tmeanIfeelcomfortablediscussingotherguyswithhim.
Asifhesensesthat,hesoftenshistone.“It’sallgood,S.Youdon’thavetogivemedeetsifyoudon’twantto.”Heshrugs.“Ijustwantedtomakesureyouknewhewasadecentguy.”
Wait,what?
“Wait,what?”Isayaloud.
Beaulaughs.“Tucker,”heclarifies,asifIdon’tknowwhowe’retalkingabout.“Iknowyouhavethisvendettaagainsthockeyplayers—”
“Idonot!”Iprotest.
“Youtotallyfuckingdo!”He’slaughinghardernow.“DoyouwantmetolistallthetimesIhadtositthereandlistentoyoutrashDiLaurentis?Actually,Iwouldn’tevenbeabletolistthem.That’showoftenyoudidit.”
“Theremayhavebeenacoupleofoccasions,”Iconcedewithagrumble.
“Acouple,ahundred,samediff,right?Butyeah,I’mnotevengonnatrytodefendDean—who’sfuckingawesome,bytheway.Iknowyouwon’tchangeyourmindabouthim.ButTuckerislegitcool.He’soneofthenicestdudesI’veevermet.”
Same,Ithinkwryly.OutloudIask,“Whyareyoutellingmethis?”
“BecauseIknowyou.”Hereachesoutandtweaksastrandofmyhair.Behindus,anoutragedgaspsoundsfromthegroupies.“You’veprobablyalreadythoughtofamillionreasonsnottogiveTuckashot.Andifoneofthosereasonsisthatyou’rereallynotintohim,thengreat,don’tgooutwithhimthen.Butifyouareintohim,don’tletthisbigbrainofyours—”Hegentlytapsmyhead“—talkyououtofit,’kay?”
“Youshouldprobablystoptouchingme.Yourfansaregettingupset.”
Hesnorts.“Youreallythinkmetouchingyouisgonnastoponeortwoorallofthemfromsuckingmydicktonight?”
Iblanch.“Gross,Beau.”
“Truth,Sabrina.”Hewaggleshiseyebrows.“I’magodaroundhere.Icandonowrong.”
Huh.Mustbenicetoliveinaworldwhereeverythinggetshandedtoyouonasilverplatter,whereyourmistakesmeannothing.
Ikeepmycynicalthoughtstomyself.“SowhatexactlydidTuckersaytoyou?”
“Thathe’sintoyou.”Beaugivesanothershrug.“Hewantedtoknowifourhistorywasgonnaposeaproblemforhim.Itoldhimno.”
Myjawfallsopen.“Soheprettymuchaskedyouforpermissiontodateme?”
“Permission?”Beausnortsloudenoughtocauseallhisbuddiestoglanceoveratus.“Yeah,right.Morelikeheannouncedthathewantedyou,andthatifIhadaproblemwithit,toobadsosad.”
Ifightthegrinthat’stryingtosurface.Forallhissweetwordsandawshuckssmiles,Tuckerreallyisanalphafucker.Idon’tknowwhythatthrillsmesomuch,butitdoes.
“Anyway,don’tbestupidaboutthis,”Beausayssternly.“SomeonelikeTuckmightbegoodforyou.Hecankeepyoufromstudyingyourselftodeath.”
“Oh!”Iexclaim.“BeforeIforget—IgotintoHarvard!”
“Forreal?”Hisfacebreaksoutinthebiggest,broadestsmile.“Congratu-fucking-lations!”
Andthenhehaulsmeintohisarmsagainforabearhug,whilehisgorgeousgroupiesglarebloodymurderatme.12
Sabrina
Hope’sBeemeriswaitingformeintheparkinglot.WhenIclimbintothebackseat,IfindHopeandCarinsingingalongtosomeawfulpopsong,andIdon’tfeelguiltyanymoreformakingthemwait.Clearlythey’vebeenhavingagreattime.
“Sowhat’sthisnewplacewe’regoingto?”Iaskoncethesongends.
“You’llsee,”Hopechirpsfromthedriver’sseat.
Myfriendsexchangeamusedglances,whichimmediatelyraisesmysuspicions.
“Ifit’stheweirdhippiebaryoutookmetoinBostonthatservedwheatgrassshots,I’mjumpingoutrightnow.Notevenkidding.”
“You’lllikethisplace,”sheassuresme.“Ithasallyourfavorites.”
Idon’tneedtoseetheirfacestoknowthey’rebothsmirkingatme.“I’mtrustingyou,”Iwarn.“Don’tbreakthefriendcode.”
Carinturnsaround.“Forgetthefriendcode.WhatwereyouandBeautalkingabout?”
Leaningforward,IfilltheminontheconversationIjusthadwithBriar’sstarquarterback.
“Shit,thisboyisserious,”Hopeexclaims.
“BeauorTucker?”
“Tucker.Duh.Hespoketooneofyourexesanddeclaredhisintentions?Girl,thismanisallin.”
“That’sweird,right?Imean,he’sactivelypursuingme.It’sweird.”IdirectthismostlytowardCarin.Hope’saromantic.ShebelievesthateveryoneonTheBachelorisactuallytheretofindlovewhentherestoftheviewingpublicknowsit’sallaboutnobodiesseekingfame.
ButCarindisappointsme.“It’snotweird—it’sawesome.Imean,I’vehadhookups.Metaguy’seyesacrosstheroomorstruckupaconversation,butI’veneverhadsomeonepursueme.”
“Same,”Hopesays,flickingaglancetowardmeintherearviewmirror.“D’AndreaskedmeoutwhileIwaswalkingonthetreadmill.Hesaidhe’dneverseenagirllookprettiersweatythanme.”Shesighsdreamily.“Isaidyesimmediately.Iftherewasanychaseatall,itlastedalloffiveminutes.Iputoutontheseconddate,remember?”
“Howdoesitfeel?”CarinstaresatmeasifI’msomefascinatingnewdiscoveryshejustsmearedonamicroscopeslide.
“WhenHopeputsout?Well,she’sagoodkisser,buttherestofhertechniqueneedswork.”Thejokeislame,butI’mnotreadytoacknowledgethatIfeellikeagiddykidbyTucker’ssteady,determinedpursuit.
Hopeholdsuphermiddlefinger.“I’manawesomelay.Mytechniqueisperfect.IfIwereanybetter,D’Andrewouldn’tbeabletogetoutofbed.Asitis,Ihavetokickhimout.”
“It’strue,”Carinconfirms.“D’Andrealwaysbegslikeasadchildwhenhehastoleaveinthemorning.”
“IsthathowitiswithTucker?”Hopeteases.
“YoureallywanttoknowhowIfeelaboutit?”Iexhalealong,heavybreath,decidingtobehonestwithmyfriends—andwithmyself.“IfeelsillyandweakandIdon’tlikeit.Ishouldbeimmunetothis.Imean,he’sjustaguy.I’vesleptwithlotsofguysbeforeandI’msurethere’llbemanyinthefuture.SowhyamIallweak-kneedandflutteryaroundthisone?”
“Whyisfeelingsomethingforsomeoneaweakness?”Hopechastises.“Iknowyoudon’tthinkI’mweak.”
“Godno.Butyou’re…”
You’rerichandgorgeousandsmart,andIhavetoworkmyassoffforeverything
Frustrated,Idigtheknuckleofmythumbintomytemple.“You’remoretogetherthanIam.IalwaysfeellikeI’monedayawayfromdisaster.TheothernightIhadadreamthatProfessorFrommwalkedintoBoots&ChuteswhileIwasonstagewearingnothingbutglitterandaG-string.IwokeupinapanicbecauseIwasfuckingconvincedthere’dbeanemailonmycomputerinformingmethatmyadmissiontoHarvardwasbeingrescinded.”
Infrontofme,Hopeshakesherbraids.“Honey,yousaidityourself.Yourscheduleisterrible.Thereasonyou’resostressedoutisbecauseyouonlygiveyourselfanhourortwoaweektojustrelax.”
“She’sright,”Carinsays.“Andlook,Ithinkit’sawesomethatyoumeetupwithusonceaweek,butatthisrate,you’regoingtoflameoutbeforeyouevengettoHarvard.That’swhatyourdreamistellingyou.”
“Briar’sfullofsuperstudents.Lawschoolisn’tgoingtobemorecompetitivethanwhatyou’vealreadyfaced.”Hopefixesmewithasternlookinthemirror.“Slowdown,B.Oratleastslowdownwhileyoustillcan.”
“Youdon’thavetomarrytheguy,”Carinchimesin.“Goingonadateorhavinggreatsexisn’tacommitment.He’sastudenttoo,whichmeanshehastostudy.Heplayshockey,whichmeanshe’sgotpracticesandgames.Ifyouweregoingtodateanyone,itshouldbesomeonewho’sgothisownbusylife,right?”
Hoperaisesoneeyebrow.“He’sgotagametonight…”
Igapeather.“Areyoustalkinghim?Howdoyouknowhehasagame?”
“Ilookeduptheteam’sscheduleontheBriarsite.”
Carinnodsenthusiastically.
“Whoareyouguysandwherearemyfriends?”Idemand.“Youdon’tevenlikehockey.”
“Ilikeit,”Carinprotests.“MydadthrowsaStanleyCuppartyeveryyear!”
IturntoHope,whoshrugs.“Ineitherlikenordislikeit.AndIhavenothingagainstgoingtoagameifitmeanswatchingmybestiefinallyhavesomefun.”
“Comeon,”Carinurges.“Wedon’thavetostayforthewholething.We’llwatchabitofthegame,andmaybeafterwardyoucangouptoTuckerandtellhimhowawesomeheplayedandhowsexyhelooksinhisuniform.Infact…”Shewavesahandoutthewindow.“Hereweare.”
“Thisiswherewe’reeatingdinner?”IstareatBriar’smulti-million-dollarhockeyfacilityandallofthestudentsstreaminginside.
Caringrins.“Yup.Loveagoodhotdog,don’tyou?”
“D’Andre’smeetingusinside,”Hopeadds.
Isigh.“Sohewasinonthisdiabolicalplanofyourstoo?”
“Ofcourse.He’smypartnerincrime.”Hopekillstheengine,andsheandCarinunbuckletheirseatbelts.“Allright,let’sdothisshit.Time’sa-wasting,B.”
Ipeeratthearenaagain,feelingoddlynervous.“Idon’tknowaboutthis.”
“Awcomeon,”Carincoaxes.“Thisplaceisfullofyourfavoritethings—athletes.”
Istickmytongueoutather,butshemerelylaughs.
“Hey,ifyoudon’twantTuck,thenI’llseeifIcancheckbeardoffmybucketlist.”Sheblinksinnocently.“Imean,ifyou’rereallynotintothishot,builtguywhogaveyouthebestsexofyourlife,thenyoushouldtotallybeonboardwithmeandTuckhookingitup.”
TheimageofCarin’spetitebodyunderneathTucker’sbigframeroilsmystomach.“It’sTucker.NotTuck.”IflushwhenIhearthestiffnessinmyownvoice.
Hopedissolvesintoafitofgiggles.
“God,ifyoucouldseetheangrylookonyourfacerightnow…”Caringiggles.“Honey,you’vegotitbad.”
Hopeproducesaflaskfromherpurse.“Ifthegameisterrible,we’lljustgetsuperdrunkwhilewewatchabunchofwhiteboysskatearoundwithknivesontheirfeet.”
HerdescriptionofwhatshethinkshockeyismakesmeandCarinburstoutinlaughter.Andasmyfriendshopoutofthecar,Ifindmyselfgettingoutandfollowingthemtotheentranceofthearena.
They’rerightaboutalotofthings.Idoneedabreak,andmaybe,justmaybe,IneedTucker.
*
Idon’twatchalotofsports.NotbecauseIdon’tlikethem,butbecauseI’veneverhadtimetogetintoone.IknowalittlebitaboutfootballbecauseofBeau.Andsomebaseballbecausethat’sallRaywatchesinthespring.
Hockey,notsomuch.
ButIhavetoadmit,watchingBriar’steamplayismoreexcitingthanIthoughtitwouldbe.
I’msquishedbetweenHopeandCarin,withD’AndresittingonHope’sotherside.Idon’tknowifwehavegoodseatsornot.Carinsaysyes,butIwould’vepreferredtobesittingrightbehindthehomebenchsoIcouldstareatTuckerallnight.Instead,Ihavetosatisfymyselfbywatchinghimontheice.
Hopetoldmethathisjerseynumberis46.Iguessshefoundthatoutontheschoolwebsitetoo.SoIgluemyeyestotheblack-and-silverjerseythatreads#46,marvelingatthewayheconfidentlywieldshisstick.Idon’tthinkIcouldeverholdontoahockeystickwhileIwaswearingthosebulkyboxinggloves.
WhenImentionthistomyfriends,D’Andrelaughshisassoff.“Thosearehockeygloves,babygirl.Notboxinggloves.”
“Oh.”Ifeelstupidnow.
Inmydefense,I’veneverbeentoahockeygamebefore,sowhyshouldIbeexpectedtoknowwhattheequipmentiscalled?Iknowtherearesticksandpucksandnets.Iknowsomeplayersareforwards,becausethat’swhatTuckertoldmehewas.AndIknowotherplayersaredefensemen,becausethat’swhatBeautoldmeDeanwas.
Otherthanthat,I’mcompletelyignorantaboutthisgame.Therewasnoreasontoeverstudyuponit,sincehockeyplayershavebeenonmyhellnolist.
Sohaveboyfriends,forthatmatter.
Argh.Ican’tbelieveIletmyfriendstalkmeintothis.Idon’thavetimeforaboyfriend.AndevenifIdid,Tuckerisn’ttheguy.He’stoonice.Andsweet.Andamazing.
ThattrickleofshameIfeltwhenRayinterruptedushavingsexstillfluttersthroughmeeverytimeIthinkaboutit.Itwassohumiliating.AndeventhoughTuckerassuredmethatitdidn’tmakehimthinkanylessofme,apartofmethinkslessofme.
IhatewhereIcomefrom.IhateRay.SometimesIevenhatemyownmother.IknowI’msupposedtoloveherbecauseshegavebirthtome,butthewomanabandonedme.Shejustleft
“Yougotthis,boys!”anenthusiasticfanshouts,jerkingmeoutofmybleakthoughts.
IglanceattheicetoseeTuckerskatingagain.Thenightwemet,he’dadmittedthathewasslowbecauseofanoldkneeinjury,butholyhell,hedoesn’tlookslow.He’sablurofmotion,gettingfromoneendoftheicetotheotherbeforeIcanevenblink.
Histeammatesareequallyfast,andIcanbarelykeepupwiththepuck.IthoughtTuckerhadit,butthenthecrowdroarswithdisappointmentandIswivelmyheadtoseetheblackdiskbounceoffoneofthenetposts.Iguesssomeoneelsehadit,butTuckerscoopsuptherebound.Hepassestooneofhisteammates.WhentheguyslapsitrightbacktoTuck,IfindmyselfboltingtomyfeetsoIcangetabetterviewofhimtakingashot.
Hemisses.Igroaninfrustration.CarinlaughsasIflopbackdowninmyseat,butshedoesn’tmakefunofmeformysuddenburstoffangirldom.
Thegameremainsscorelessallthewayintothethirdperiod.Ican’tbelievewe’vealreadywatchedthirtyminutesofhockeyandnoonehasscoredyet.You’dthinkI’dfinditboring,butI’montheedgeofmyseat,wonderingwhichteamwilldrawfirstblood.
It’sBriar.
Asthelampoverthenetlightsup,arockanthemblastsoverthePAsystemandthehomecrowdscreamsincelebration.TheannouncercallsthegoalforsomeonenamedMikeHollisandtheassistfor…JohnTucker.
Ijumptomyfeetagain,cheeringloudly.Thistime,myfriendsdosaysomething.
“She’sgotitbad,”D’Andreremarks.
“Toldyouso,”Hopesaystoherboyfriend.
“What?”Imutterdefensively.“Thatwasaverynicescoringmaneuver.”
Carindoublesover.“Scoringmaneuver?”sheechoesbetweengiggles.“Jeez,B,getwiththeprogram.It’scalledagoal.”
“You’recalledagoal,”Iretortchildishly.
D’Andresnickers.“Goodone.”
Isitdownandwatchthefast-pacedgamewithbatedbreath.Tomyrelief,Briarholdstheotherteamoff,andwewin1-0whenthefinalbuzzergoesoff.Everyoneisingoodspiritsastheyshuffleoutofthearena,myselfincluded.
I’mhappyIcametonight.AndasunsureasIamaboutwhethertogetinvolvedwithTucker,Ican’tdenyI’mexcitedtoseehimandgivehimahugandtellhimwhatagreatgameheplayed.He’llhugmeback.Thankme.Maybehe’llsuggestwegetinthattruckofhisforsomecelebratorysexytimes…
Ifhedoesthat,Ihonestlydon’tthinkIwouldsaynothistime.
“Apparentlyallthebunnieshangoutoutsidethelockerrooms,”Carinwhisperstomeaswefileintothemainlobby.“Solet’swaitforhimoutside.It’llbelesscrowded.”
“Thebunnies?”
“Puckbunnies.Hockeygroupies.Whateveryouwanttocallthem.”Sheshrugs.“Youknow,thechickslookingtogetnastywithahockeyplayer.”
“Ah.Gotcha.”Ishrugback,becauseIhavenothingagainstgirlswhowantthat.Afterall,myownrequirementforhookupsisathletesonly
ButwhentheathleteI’mwaitingforfinallyemergesfromthebuilding,he’snotalone.
MyspinestiffensasIwatchTuckerpauseonthestepswithhisarmslungaroundashortblonde.He’sinhishockeyjacketandshe’sbundledupinabrightredparka,butthewaymystomachtwistsupwithjealousy,you’dthinktheywerebuck-nakedandbrazenlyfuckingonthestairs.
“Let’sgo,”Ihisstomyfriends.
Afirmhandcirclesmywrist.“They’rejusttalking,”Hopesaysquietly.
MycheekshollowasIgrindmyteeth.“Hehashisarmaroundher.”
Iamnotabouttomakeafoolofmyselfoversomehockeyplayer,especiallyonewhosayshowmuchhewantstogooutwithmeandthencomesoutforapostgamecelebrationwithhisarmaroundsomeothergirl.
Isneakanotherpeek.Yep.Arm’sstillaroundher.Andhe’slaughingatwhateverBlondie’ssaying.
Mymolarsarebeingcrushedtodust,butIcan’tseemtolookaway.BlondiewrapsbotharmsaroundTucker’swaistandgiveshimatighthug.Shetipsherheadupathim.Hesmilesdownather.
Andthenmyheartisshreddedtopieces,becauseTucker’sheadisdippingtowardhers.Hismouthdropslowerandlowerandlower,untilfinallyhekissesher…13
Sabrina
…ontheforehead.
TuckerkissesBlondieontheforehead.
Andthenrufflesherhairasifshe’satoddler.
“Damn.Shegottheforeheadkiss?”D’Andremurmurs.“That’srough.”
Whatever.Itwasstillakiss!AndIdon’tevenwanttoknowwhothischickisanymore.Ifeelstupidforcomingtonight.
TuckerisMr.Popular,withhisswarmofadmirersandimpeccablemannersandthatreddishhairthatmakeshimlooklikehebelongsinsomeold-timeyfamilysitcomwherelifeisperfect,perfect,perfect.
I’mtheoverachiever,thebitchwhostudiesherassoffandworkseverysecondofeverydaytotrytoclimboutoftheguttershewasborninsoshecanstandnexttoalltheseBriarkidswithoutfeelinginferior.
“Let’sgo,”Irepeat.
MyfriendsmustrealizehowseriousIam,becausetheyalltakeastepforward.We’reabouttwofeetfromthebaseofthestepswhenIhearmyname.
“Sabrina!”
Crap.I’vebeenspotted.
“Waitup.”Hisvoicesoundsclosernow.
IturntoCarininasilentpleaforhelp,butshesimplygrins.WhenIturntoHopeandD’Andre,they’repretendingtobestudyingherphone.Traitors.
Sighing,IswingaroundandmeetTuckerhalfway.
He’svisiblythrilledtoseeme,hiseyesbrightandhissexymouthcurvedinasmile.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Isaythefirstlamethingthatcomestomind.“Iwasintheneighborhood.”
“Youwere,wereyou?”Hissmilewidens.“Anddidyouhappentocatchanyofthegamewhileyouwereintheneighborhood?”
“Allofit,actually.Thatwasaniceassist.”
“Ithoughtyoudidn’tknowanythingabouthockey.”
“Idon’t.I’mjustrepeatingwhattheannouncersaidonthePA.”
“Tuck!”someonefromthegroupofplayerscalls.“Youcoming?”
Hetwistsaroundtoshoutback,“I’llmeetyouthere!”Thenhe’ssmilingatmeagain.“Wanttocomebacktomyplacetocelebratethewinwithus?”
Ishakemyhead.“Ihavetogethome.Iworktomorrow.Besides—”Don’tsayit…“Idon’tparticularlyfeellike—”Don’tfuckingsayit,Sabrina!“—beingathirdwheel,”Ifinish,andwanttopunchmyselfforit.
Hisdarkauburneyebrowsshootup.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
Iclenchmyteeth.
“Darlin’,”heprompts.
“LittleRedRidingHoodoverthere,”Imumble,jerkingmyheadtowardBlondie,who’snowchattingwithoneofTucker’sfriends.“Youtwolookedlikeyouwereonadate.”
“Adate?Um,no.”Hestartstolaugh.“That’sSheena,afriendofmine.”Hepauses.“Well,anex.”
Ipounceonthat.“See!”
“Seewhat?She’sanex,butshe’salsoafriend.I’mfriendswithlotsofmyexes.”
Ofcourseheis.NogirlonthisdamnplanetwouldeverCarrieUnderwoodthisguyandkeyhistruckorbashitinwithabaseballbat.He’stoofuckingnice.It’simpossibletohatehim.
“You’rejealous,”heteases.
“No,”Ilie.
“Youtotallyare.”Delightdancesacrosshisface.“Youlikeme.”
“No,”Ilieagain.“Itoldyou—Iwasintheneighborhood.IfiguredI’dsayhello.”
“You’rebetterthanthis,baby.Whydon’tyouputusoutofourmiseryandsayyesalready?”
“Yestowhat?”
“Adate.Justsayyes.”
Mymouthopenstoformwords.Orrather,oneword.Yes.Iwanttosayit,Ireally,reallydo,butIhatebeingputonthespot.Icanfeelmyfriends’amusedgazesonus,andnowsomeofhisfriendsareglancingovertoo.AndTuckeristoogoodandsweet,andI’mtrashyandaloof,andmystepfatherisatotalcreep,andit’salltoofuckingoverwhelmingrightnow.
SowhenIfinallyanswer,it’snotwiththewordhewantstohear.“Yourfriendsarewaitingforyou,”Imutter,andthenIhurrybacktomycrewbeforehecanobject.
CarintakesonelookatmyfaceandsteersmetowardtheparkinglotwhereD’Andreparkedhiscar.
“Ugh!”Igroanwhenwe’reoutofTucker’ssight.“I’msofreakingstupid!”
“You’renotstupid,”Hopeobjects.
“Ifanything,you’retoosmart,”Carinsays.“Yourbrainisyourbiggestenemy.”
“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”
“Itmeansyouthinktoomuch.Weallsawyourfacejustnow—youlikethisguy.Youreallylikehim.”
“Hescaresme,”Iblurtout.
Threesetsofeyesblinkinsurprise.
“He’stooperfect,youguys.”Igroanagain.“AndI’matotalmessmostofthetime.I’mscaredthatifhegetstoknowmebetter,he’llseethat.”
“Sowhatifhedoes?”Hopecounters.
Myteethdigintomybottomlip.
Carintouchesmyarm.“Youneedtogooutwithhim.Seriously,Sabrina,you’llregretitifyoudon’t.AndtheonethingIknowyouhateisregrets.”
She’sright.IalwayskickmyselfafterIletanopportunitypassmeby.
“Tellyouwhat,”shesayswhenIhesitatefortoolong.“Let’smakeitadoubledate.”
“Adoubledate?”Iechoweakly.
“Oooh,threesome.”Hopewagglesherbrows.“Kinky.”
“Calmyourtits,Hopeless,”Carinorders.“I’mtalkingnormal,wholesomedoubledate.”
Ithinkitover.Itdoestakealotofthepressureoff.“Okay…Icandothat.”
Carinbeams.“Good.Nowtexthimbeforeyouchangeyourmind.Oh,andwhoeveryoupairmeupwithbetterbehot.Andmakesureheknowshowtousehistongue.”
“I’mstandingrighthere,youknow.”D’Andrewavesonemeatyhandintheair.“How’boutyoupervsquitobjectifyingmymanclan?”
Hopegiggles.
“Who’sobjectifying?”Carinreplies.“I’mjustsayingIwantaguywho’sgoodwithhistongue.Thatshouldbetheprerequisiteforeverymemberofyour‘manclan,’D.Likeinmiddleschool,theyshouldteachreading,writing,andreallygoodtonguemovement.”
“Girl,Ithinkyoucangetlockedupforthosethoughts,”hewarns.
Hopecontinuestogiggleuncontrollablyforanotherminutebeforegainingenoughcomposuretoreachoverandsqueezemyarm.“This’llbegoodforyou.”
“Ifitcrashesandburns,doIgettosayItoldyouso?”
“I’llwriteitacrossmyforeheadinblackmagicmarkerforyou,”shevows
AsmyfriendsheadforHope’scar,IgatherallthecourageIcanfindandtextTuckerbeforeItalkmyselfoutofit.
IfIsayyes,itdoesn’tmeananything.
Hisanswerisimmediate.
Him:Itmeansyes.
Me:ButI’mnotcommittingtoanythingbeyondthisonedate.
Him:Kindapresumptuous,no?Ionlyaskedforonedate.
Istareatmyphone.HadIreadthiswholethingincorrectly?Theguytalkedaboutloveatfirstsight,wantingtobemarriedandhavekids,andheonlywantstoseemeonemoretimeandfuckme?
Him:Kidding,darlin.I’mholdingbackthemarriageproposaluntilthe3rddate.When?
Me:I’mbringingmyfriendCarinanduneedtobringthehottestguyuknow.
Him:I’mthehottestguyIknow.Willlookfor2ndhottestguyoncampus.Shehaveanypreferences?
Me:Someonewhoknowshowtousehistongue.
Him:Again,that’dbeme.NotsurehowI’llfindouthowgoodtheotherguysarew/theirequipment.Notatopicthatcomesupalot.
Me:That’sthepriceofmytime.
Him:Onit.
There’sashortdelay,andthenanothermessagepopsup.
Him:Youwon’tregretthis.
*
Ihavetheperfectdateidea,Carintextsanhourlater.It’selevenandI’mgettingreadyforbedbecauseIhavetobeupatfourtosortmail.Thetextisfollowedupwithaslightlyblurrypic.IpinchandzoomuntilImanagetomakeoutafewwords.
Me:Paintnightout?Ihavenoartisticskills.Evenmystickfigureslookterrible.Uknowthis.Umockedmyhangmanonce.
Her:ThatwasNOTahangman.Thatwas…Imean,thearmsshldcomeoutfromthesideofthebody,nottheneck.AnywaythisisEZ.It’slikeapaintbynumbersthing.Wedrink/paint/enjoyourselves.IfthedateiscrappythenuandIcandrinkourselvesintooblivion.
Me:Fine.Whenisit?I’monlyavailableSun,M,W,Thur.
Her:Iknow.It’swhyIpickedthis,dummy.It’severyotherSunday,asintomorrownight.
HowwouldIknow?Thepictureshesentissmallandblurryandcouldsayit’sachurchgroupmeetingonSaturdaymorning.
Me:I’llseeifTisavailable.
Her:Betuheis.
I’mnottakingthatbet.Instead,ItextTucker.
Me:Youin4somepaintbynumbers?
MyphonedingsthemessagealertjustasI’mpullingonmysleepshirtandboxers.
Him:IsthatlikenakedTwister?
Me:Ihavenoclue.
Isendhimthepicture.Maybehecanmakesomesenseoutofit,becauseIsurecan’t.
Him:Wasthistakenwithanactualcameraordrawnbytinyleprechauns?
Me:Carin’sascientist,notanartist.Btwdidufindsomeone?
Him:Yes.MybuddyFitziscomingandb4uask,Ihavenoideare:hisoralskills.Buthe’shellasmart,hasameanslapshot,andI’veneverheardanycomplaints.
ItakeascreenshotofthattextandsendittoCarin.
Me:IsthisOK?
Her:CanIhaveapic?
ItextTuck,Canshehaveapic?
Him:Ofwhat?
DearGod.Thisisaridiculousgameofactualtelephone.
Me:Tuckersays:ofwhat?
Her:Face,abs,ass.Nodick
ItakeyetanotherscreenshotandshootthatofftoTucker.Whileheconsiderstherequest,Iwashmyfaceandbrushmyteeth.BythetimeIclimbintobed,there’samessagewaitingforme.Apictureofagorgeousdark-hairedguyflippingTuckerofffillsmyscreen.
Wow.It’sincrediblehowhottheseBriarhockeyplayersare.Isthatarequirementofmakingtheteam?Beabletoslapthepuckahundredmilesanhourandalsostarinthecalendar?
IforwardthepicturetoCarin,whosendsmeathumbs-upemojiinreturn.ThenItextTuckeragain.
Me:We’regoodtogo.
Him:Time/place?Srslycan’treadthisthing.
Me:Tomorrow.8p.m.Carinsaysthere’sbooze.
Him:K
I’mabouttoputmyphoneawaywhenthreedotsappear.Andthendisappear.Andthenre-appearagain.Finally,themessagecomesthrough.
Him:Dickpicsthatbad?
Ismotheragiggle.That’shisquestion?
Me:Why?RUgoingtosendmeone?
Him:Feellikethatmaybeatrickquestion.Douwantone?
Me:Dependsoncontext.Randomdickpics=no.Otherwise?Idunno.Ihaven’tgottenonethatI’vereallyliked.U’vesentone?Orseveral?
Him:Mythumbsaretired.Holdon.
Thephonevibratesinmyhandasecondlater.
“Hello,”Ianswer.
“Hey.”Hepauses.“Sowhatmadeyouchangeyourmindaboutthedate?”
“Myfriendssaiditwouldbegoodforme,”Iadmit.
“Yourfriendsareright.”Icanhearthesmileinhisvoice.“Anyway,IfeellikethisisaconversationweshouldhaveinpersonsoIcanseeyourface.Eggplantemojisdon’thaveenoughnuance.”
Thismakesmelaugh.“True.”
“Butyou’reinBostonandI’minHastings,sowe’regoingwiththephonecall.Imayhavesentapiconce,butitwassolicited.Shesentmeonefirst.”
“Really?I’mnotafanofthat.Toomanyrevengepicsonline.”Besides,Ineverreallyhungaroundaguylongenoughtowanttosendhimapicture,butIdon’tsharethatwithTucker.“SotherearepicsofTucker’smightywangontheinternet?”
“Ihaven’tbeentaggedonInstagramyet,soI’mhopefultheyaren’toutthere.Butthanksforcallingmydickmighty.Weappreciatethat.”Amusementcolorshiswords.
“We?Asinyouandyourpenis?”
“Yup,”hesayscheerfully.
Isnuggledeeperunderthecovers.“Youhaveanameforyourpenis?”
“Doesn’teveryone?Guysputanameoneverythingthat’simportanttothem—cars,dicks.Oneofmyteammatesinjuniorhockeynamedhisstick,whichwasdumbbecausesticksbreakallthetime.He’dgonethroughtwelveofthembytheendoftheseason.”
“Whatwerethenames?”
“That’sthething.Hejustkeptaddinganumbertotheend,likeiPhone6,iPhone7,exceptinhiscaseitwasHenrietta1,Henrietta2,etcetera.”
Isnicker.“Heshould’veusedthehurricanenamingconvention.”
“Darlin’,hewasn’tsmartenoughtocomeupwithtwonames,letalonetwelve.”
Darlin’.Myhearttripsattheendearment.Whenheuseditbefore,itseemedlikeathrowaway.Butnow?Afterhejustsaidguysnamethingsthatareimportanttothem?
IquellmyfantasticalinterpretationsbeforetheyleadmetoadangerousendWe’reflirting.Keepthetonelight.“What’syourdick’sname?”
“Uh-uh,”hescolds.“That’swifeknowledge.Ican’ttellyouuntilthehoneymoon.”
Iwaitfortheinevitablesenseofdiscomforttostartticklingmyneck,butitdoesn’tcome.Apparentlytheoffhandjokesaboutmarriagenolongerbotherme.
“Sowhatmakesagooddickpic?”heasks.“NotthatI’msendingyouone.”
“Isthatalsowifeknowledge?”Itease.
“I’dconsideritengagementstuff.”
Iputthatthoughtasideandconsiderhisquestion.“Completelygraphicdoesn’tdoitforme.Ineedcontext,likeIsaidbefore.Yourfistarounditwouldbehot.Youhavegoodhands.”
There’sarustlingsound,footsteps,andthenadoorlatchclickingshut.He’sgonesomewhereprivate,andthatknowledgemakescertainpartsofmybodypulseexcitedly.
“Ihadtoleavethelivingroom.We’vegotpeopleover,andyouthinkingaboutmydickishotasfuck.I’mtoohardtobeinpublic.”
MybreastsfeelsoheavythatI’mfindingithardtobreathe.AsIshiftunderneaththeblankets,Ihearhisbreathcatch.
“Whatareyouthinkingabout?”hemurmurs.
Idraginsomeairtofillmysuddenlydepletedlungs.Iknowwherethisisgoing.IfIstayonthephone,we’regoingtoendupturningeachotherontothepointthatI’mgoingtohavetomasturbateonceI’mdone.Tuckerremainssilent,leavingthedecisionuptome.Idipmyhandbetweenmylegsasifthepressurecouldmaketheachegoaway,butthecontactonlyintensifiesmydesire.
MyvoiceishoarsewhenIstartspeaking.“I’mfixatedonyouholdingyourdick.Onlynowyou’removingyourhand,strokingyourself.”
Whenthere’snoimmediateresponse,Iblush,thinkingI’vegonetoofarforhim.Buthisnextwordstellmehe’srightwithme.
“You’rekillingme.”
Ibitemylipandrubharder.“I’mgettingworkeduptoo.”
“Thatdoesn’thelp,becausenowI’mpicturingyouallflushedandneedy.Youwet,Sabrina?”
Myfingersslipacrossmypussy.“Very.”
“Fuck.WhatwouldIbedoingifIwasthere?”
“Lickingme,”Isayinstantly.Hehasagreattongue.
Onhisend,there’smorerustlingandthenahusky,“Youneedatoy?”
“Yeah,givemeasec.”IfumbleinmydeskdrawerandfindtheboxoftamponswhereIhidestufffromRay—somecashrolledupinanemptytamponcartridgeandmyvibe.Ifishthelatteroutandflickiton.
“Ready,”ItellhimasIplacethequiveringtoyagainstmyclit.Myhipsarchupandasmallcryescapesme.
“Goddamn,”hegroans.“Slideitinside,slowandsteady.It’smyhandonthatvibratorandmytongueisonyourclit.”
Asheissueshiscommandsandpaintsaneroticpicture,Iworkthetoyinandout.It’ssuchareliefnottohavetothink,togivemyselfcompletelyovertohim.Idon’tsayanythingmore.Ican’t,really.I’mtoofocusedonlistening,lettinghissoutherndrawlpourovermelikewarmsyrup,listeningtothehoarse,dirtyinstructionstellingmetopumpthevibeharder,imaginehimlickingmypussy,tellingmehowgorgeousandsexyIam,andhowhe’sneverbeenharderinhislife.
Icomeasthesoundsofhimworkinghisownfleshmixwithmygaspsofpleasure.Hisvoicefillsmyworld.
“Night,darlin’,”hesayswhenmybreathingslows.
“Night,”Imanage.AndthenIfallasleep,deepandlongandutterlysatisfied.14
Sabrina
“Nakedpainting?”SuspicionfloatsthroughmeasIpullopenthedoortoWineandBrush.Thesigncheekilydisplaysapairofartdollsarrangedinasordidembrace.Fittingforacollegetownwinebar,Iguess.“Youtookthatblurrypictureonpurpose,”Iaccusemyfriend.
“OfcourseIdid,”Carinsayssmugly.“Ididn’twantyoutohaveanexcusetosayno.”Shestrollsinandthenstopsabouttwostepsfromthethreshold,hergazegluedtothebaracrosstheroom.“Nice.”Shewhistlesunderherbreath.“Youdidgood,B.”
Igrin.“I’llhappilytakecreditwerenoneisdue.”
Weeachsnagawineglassfromatraybythetablebeforemovingforward.Ourdatesareleaningagainstthebartalkingtoeachother.Evenslouching,they’reaboutaheadtallerthanalmostanyotherpersonintheroom.InoticeothergirlseyeingtheirdatesandthencastingcovetousglancestowardTuckerandFitzy.
It’sthoseglancesthatpropelmeacrosstheroomandontomytiptoestogiveTuckerakissonthelips.
ThecornersofhissexymouthcurveupasifheknowsexactlywhatI’mdoing.“Goodtoseeyou,darlin’.Sleepwelllastnight?”
“Idid.You?”
“Likeababy.”
Carindoesn’tmissathing.“DidyousleepinBostonlastnight?”sheteases.
Heshakeshishead.“Justheardagoodstory.”
IusethewineglasstosmotherasmilewhileTuckerintroducesourfriends.“Carin,thisisColin,buteveryonecallshimFitzy.”
“Ilikethatbetter,”sheannounces.“CarinandColinsoundstoocutesytogether.”
Thesix-foot-plusguysmilesshylyandtakesCarin’shandinhis,carefullyshakingitasifhe’safraidhe’sgoingtohurther.Hedoesn’thavetoworry,though.She’ssmall,buttough.
“Areyouroommates?”Carinasks,andshe’snotatallcovertassheadmireshimfromheadtotoe.
Ican’tdenythatI’mkindadoingthesamething.Fitzyisincrediblyappealing.He’sgotmessydarkhairthatyoujustwanttorunyourfingersthrough.Andthosetats…yum.He’swearingaT-shirtthatrevealstwofullsleevesofintricatedesignsandalotoffantasy-typeimagery—Imakeoutseveraldragonsandatleastonesword.Andthere’sinkpeekingoutofthecollarofhisshirttoo.Carin’snotusuallyintotattooedguys,buthereyesaregluedtothisone.
“Nope.Ilivealone,”Fitzytellsher.“Tuckliveswiththegloryboys.”
“Thegloryboys?”Iecho,butIsuspectIknowtheanswer.
Tucker’sexpressiongrowsamused.“GarrettandLoganarethestars.Bothguysaregoingpro.AndyouknowDean.”
Iwrinklemynoseatthementionofhisname.
“Don’tgetherstarted,”Carinwarns.
Fitzygivesalopsidedgrin.“Agirlwhodoesn’tloveDean?Ididn’tknowtheyexisted.”
“HegotanAbecausehewassleepingwiththeTA!”Igrouse.
Carinplacesherhandovermymouth.“Iwarnedyou.Comeon,Fitzy.”Shedropsherhandandcrooksherfingertowardthebighockeyplayer.“Let’sfindaplacetosit.I’veheardthisstorybeforeandit’snotagoodone.”ShehumsafewbarsfromFrozenassheleadshimaway.
Imakeafrustratedsoundinthebackofmythroat,butsincehalfmyaudienceisgone,Iturntotheonlypersonwho’sleft.“Areyougoingtotellmetoletitgotoo?”
“Naah,youholdontothataslongasyouwant.It’snotmyplacetodictatewhatyougetmadabout.”Hecupsthebackofmyneckwithonelargepalmandleansdowntowhisperinmyear.“ButI’llbehappytotellyouwhattodolaterontonight.”
Mybodytightensimmediately.SexwithTuckerisabouttheleaststressful,mostenjoyablethinginmylife,andasIleanintohissolidgrip,IrealizeI’mnolongerinterestedinfightingtheattractionbetweenus.Myfriendsareright—Idoneedthis.Notonlythesex,butthecompany.Hangingoutwithasmart,cuteguywhowantsnothingmorethantobewithme,anywayhecan.
IthinkI’mjustgoingtorollwiththisandseewhathappens.
“It’sadeal.”
Hewinks.“I’vegotideasnow.”
“Asifyoudidn’thavethembefore,”Iscoff.
“I’vegotmoreideas.You’reveryinspirational.”
Hishotgazehasmesteppingforwardandliftingmyhandtohischest—hisveryripped,verylickable,verygorgeouschest.Undermypalm,hismusclesflexandhisheartbeatsquickly.Iriseuponmytiptoesto—
Aloudcoughbehindushasmedroppingdown.
“Yeah?”TuckersaystoFitzywithouttakinghiseyesoffmine.
“Youmightwanttograbaseat.Everyone’swaitingonyou.”
Ishiftaroundtoseethatmostoftheroomisturnedintheirchairs,eitherwaitingforustositdownorhopingwestartmaulingeachotherinfrontofthem.ThelongtablesaresetupinaC-shape,andthere’sasmallriserinthecenterwhereIassumethemodelwillstand.Weeachgetourowneasel,canvas,andanarrayofbrushesandacrylicpaints.It’sprettycool.
“Unlessyou’restrippingandgoingtoserveasourmodels,comeandsit,”Carinorders.
Tucker’shanddriftsdownward,managingtoraiseathousandgoosebumpsonthewaytomyhand.IclaspitandleadhimtothechairsnexttoCarin.
“You’resupposedtowaituntilafterthedatetojumphisbones,”shewhispersasIsitdown.
Isetthewineglassasideandpickupapaintbrush.“Rulesareforsuckersandboringpeople,Careful.”
Sherunsabrushovermynoseinmockdisgust,butthentheinstructorstartsspeakingandweshutupoutofhabit.
“Heyeveryone!I’mAriaandI’llbeyourinstructorforthenight!I’msopumpedbytheturn-out!”
Ohboy.Ourteacherisonebigballofenergy,bouncingonherfeetassheaddressestheroom.OnherheadisacrazyswirlofMedusa-likedreadlocksthatswingaroundlikesnakesasshebounce-talks.
“FirstthingI’mgoingtodoisintroduceourmodel!ThisisSpector—”
Spector?
Tuckerswaysinhischair,andIturntofindhimfightingwavesoflaughter.Iplantahandonhiskneetostillhim.
“Benice,”Ihiss.
“Tryingto.”Hechuckleswhilemuttering“Spector”tohimself.
Atallguyinawhitebathrobestepsforwardandwavesatthegroup.Hisblackhairislongerthanmine,andhehasthosesquintyJamesFrancoeyesthatmakehimlookperpetuallystoned.
“Hi,”isallhesays.
Thenhetakesofftherobe.
Ichokeonagasp,becauseohmyGod,hispenisisrightthere.Andit’simpressive.
Besideme,Carinisalsoquicktoexaminethegoods.“Nowthat’swhatI’mtalkingabout!Well,hellothere,Manaconda!”shecallstothemodelbeforesweepinghergazeovertheotherfemalesinattendance.“Ladies,IthinkSpectordeservesaslowclaprightnow,no?”
NowI’mtheonefightinglaughter,becausedamnediftheladiesdon’tallbreakoutinaslow,slowclapthatleadstoaburstofapplausefollowedbywhistlesandcatcalls.TheshadeofpoorSpector’sfaceissoreditbelongsonthepaletteinfrontofme.
Tuckersnortsloudlyinthechairnexttomine,whileFitzyleansaroundCarin’sandasksme,“Isshealwayslikethis?”
“Usuallyshe’sworse,”Isaycheerfully.
Hedoesn’tseemputoffbythat.Ourinstructor,meanwhile,isstartingtogetannoyed.
“Guys!”Sheclapsherhandstogether.“Focus!There’sbeautifularttobemade!”Hersternexpressioncracks,replacedwithagrin.“Which,ofcourse,willabsolutelyincludeSpector’sequipment.”
ThisistheweirdestfuckingdateI’veeverbeenon.
Ariagivesusarundownofhowitallworks.It’snotverycomplicated.WedrinkwineandpaintSpector’spenis.Surprisingly,Tuck,Fitzandtheothermenintheroomareinstantlyonboard.Painttubesareopened,brushesareraised,andthenwe’remakingbeautifulart.
Sortof.
Iawkwardlydragmybrushoverthecanvas.Itriedtomixyellow,whiteandbrowntocreateapeachyskintoneformycanvasSpector,butitlookslikehehasanawfulspraytan.
Tuckerrunsoneofhisdrybrushesacrossaknucklethat’ssportingabruise.“Icanthinkofadozengoodusesforoneofthese.Mighttakeithome.”
Irollmyeyes.“Paintbrushesaren’tsextoys.”
“Sayswho?”
Weworksteadilyforthenexthour.Carinisawesomeatthis.SoisFitzy,who,accordingtoTuck,designshisownvideogames.Tuckerissurprisinglydecent,thoughheseemstobeavoidingthedickregiononhiscanvas.
“You’regonnahavetopainthisjunkeventually,”Itaunt.
Hewinks.“I’msavingthebestforlast.”
Fromtheothersectionofthetables,aguywithfloppyblondhairandaRedSoxT-shirtraiseshishand.“Teach,Ican’tdothepubes!Theylooklikelittleants!”
Aburstoflaughterroarsthroughtheroom.IthinkRedSoxisonadoubledatetoo,becauseheandhisdatearesittingnexttoanothercouple,whoareinhysterics.
“Seriously,Spec,”RedSox’sfriendcallsout.“Youcouldn’thavedonealittlemanscapingbeforeyoucameheretonight?”
“Can’t,”Spectorrepliesfromhisperch,soundingbored.“Mycontractdoesn’tallowit.”
Hehasacontract?Toposenakedatacollegebarpaintnight?
“Thepubichairaddstexturetothepainting,”Ariaexplainstothegroup.“Butartisaboutinterpretation,remember?Paintwhatyouseeinhere—”Shetapsahandoverherheart,“notwhatyouseehere—”Shepointstohereyes.
“Whatthehelldoesthatevenmean?”IwhispertoTucker,whoseentirefaceisflushedfromlaughingsohard.
“Likethis!”Ariadeclaressuddenly.“Thisisinterpretation!”
IglanceovertofindherswipingFitzy’scanvasoffhiseasel.Thebigguyrumblesinprotest,butsheignoreshimandholdsupthepaintingwithagrandflourish.
MyjawdropswhenIseewhatTucker’sfriendhaspainted.It’sSpector,butabadassversionofhiminahelmetandwieldingashield.Insteadofthemuchtalkedaboutpenis,Fitzypaintedanelaborate-lookingswordjuttingfromtheguy’scrotch.Like,aswordworthyofGameofThrones
“Dude,”Tuckerexclaims,suitablyimpressed.
“That’samazing!”awide-eyedCaringushestoherdate.
Heshrugs.“It’sallright.”
Hismodestymakesmesmile.IonlygrinharderwhenAriagiveshimbackthecanvasandthenbegshimtoleaveitwithherinsteadoftakingithomewithhim.
Weresumeourpainting,crackingjokesandsippingourwine.Everysooften,Tuckerleanstowardtheelderlygentlemanbesidehimandhelpsthepoorguyout.
“Naw,man,youwanttoshadeunderhere,”headvises.“Imaginethatthelightishittinghisarmfromupthere.Sotheshadowwouldbedownhere.”
Theoldmanharrumphsloudly.“Thiswholethingisawasteoftime.”
“Hiram!”hiswifescolds.
“What?It’strue,”hesaysinacrabbyvoice,thengivesTuckerandmeasurlylook.“Thiswasheridea.”
“BecauseIthoughtyouwouldenjoyit,”thegray-hairedwomanprotests.“You’vealwaystoldmehowmuchyouenvymyartisticskills.”
Thecoupleappearstobeintheirlatesixties.Orhell,maybetheirlateseventies.I’veneverbeenagoodjudgeofage.Besides,seniorslooksoyoungthesedays.Nanacouldpassformyoldersister.
“Gee,I’msorry,Doris,butIneverlearnedhowtodrawnakedfolkswhenIwasgettingshotatin’Nam!”
Dorisslamsherbrushonthetable.“Wetalkedaboutthis!Dr.Phillipssaidyouweren’tallowedtodiscussVietnamanymore.It’sdestructivetoourrelationship.”
“Itwasthemosttaxingtimeofmylife,”hesaysstubbornly.
“Andyouthinkitwaseasyforme?”shechallenges.“BeingathomeandraisingtwochildrenindiaperswhileyouwereoffhuntingCharlie?”
Hesquawksinoutrage.“Youwerewipingbottoms!Iwaskillinghumanbeings!”
Ibitemyliptostopfromlaughing,eventhoughthisisn’taparticularlyfunnyconversation.Maybethewinehasgonetomyhead.
“Now,now,”Tuckerdrawls.“Hiram,myman,yourwifeisgorgeousandobviouslydevotedtoyou.AndDoris,Hiramherefoughtforhiscountrytokeepyouandyourchildrensafe—thinkofhowmuchhemustloveyouforhimtohavedonethat.Solet’snotfight,huh?Whydon’twejustfocusonpaintingthisnicefellowoverthereanddoingjusticetohisequipment?”
FitzysnortsfromtheothersideofCarin.
SodoesHiram,whosevoicebecomesgruffasheaddresseshiswife.“I’msorry,Dorrie.You’reright—thiswasalovelyidea.”
“Andyouwereverybraveinthewar,”shesaysmagnanimously.
HiramleansoverandpatsTuckerontheshoulder.“Allright.Showmethatshadowtrick.”
MyheartmeltsasIwatchTuckerhelptheolderman.Doris,meanwhile,isblushingprettily,probablythinkingabouthowhecalledhergorgeousbefore.
“Ilikeyou,kid,”Hiramtellsmydate.
Yeah.Ilikehimtoo.
*
Tucker
We’reallfeelingstupidandgiddywhenwetroopoutofthebarwithourwrapped-upcanvasestuckedunderourarms.Well,exceptforFitzy—ourinstructormadehimleavehismasterpiecebehindsoshecouldshowittofutureclasses.
Outside,theairisfrigid,butthatdoesn’tstopHiramfromsaying,“Isawanicecreamparlordowntheroad.Let’scheckifit’sstillopen.”
Andyup,ourdoubledatehasturnedintoatripledateandsuddenlywe’regoingoutforicecreamwithanoldwarvetandhissweet-as-molasseswife.
IholdSabrina’shandasweambledownthesidewalk.Ihonestlydidn’texpecttohavethismuchfuntonight.Imean,apaintingclass?Thereareamillion—dirtier—thingsIwould’veratherdone,butthiswasn’tbadatall.EvenFitzyhaslaughedmoretimestonightthanI’veeverheardinthepast.
Theicecreamplaceisjustclosingwhenwearrive,butthekidwho’sabouttolockthedoortakespityonusandopensthecashregister.Thankinghimprofusely,weorderwaffleconesandthenheadbacktothebarparkinglot.
Nowthatthey’renolongerbickering,HiramandDorisregaleuswithstoriesabouttheirforty-sixyearstogether.They’velivedthroughsomeprettyharrowingtimes,butI’mmoreinterestedinthehappymemoriestheydescribe.
Forty-sixyears.It’sfuckingsurrealtothinkofbeingwithsomeoneforthatlong.AmItotallynutsforwantingthat?
Sabrinaseemsequallymesmerizedbytheirtales,andwhentheelderlycoupleclimbsintotheirlittlecaranddrivesoff,sheseemsgenuinelydisappointedtoseethemgo.
“We’regoingtofinishouricecreaminmycar,”Carinannounces,andthere’snothingstealthyaboutthewayshesaysit.Withamischievoussmile,shetugsonFitzy’shandanddragshimtowardthebluehatchbackparkedacrossthelot.
Heglancesoverhisshoulderandgrinsatme.
“They’retotallygoingtohookup,”Sabrinasays.
“Yup.”
Idraghertowardmyownvehicle.Oncewe’resettledinthefrontseat,Iflicktheignitionandblasttheheat.Icecreamwasprobablyabadidea—Sabrinaisvisiblyshiveringaswewaitforthetrucktowarmup.
“So,”Isay.
“So.”
“Thatwasentertaining.”
“Whichpart?WhentheRedSoxguypaintedantsforpubes?OrwhenHiramandDorisdescribedwhatitwasliketolivethroughtheboobjobcrazeintheeighties?”
“Holyfuck.Whenshesaidshe’dconsideredgettingher‘bosomdone’?”
“OhmyGod.Idied!”Sabrinaisinstitchesbesideme,thesoundofherhigh-pitchedgigglesbringingarushofwarmthtomychest.
Damn.Ireallylikethisgirl.She’s…incredible.She’snottheicequeenDeaninsiststhatsheis,notintheslightest.She’ssmartandfunnyandcaringand—
AndImightbefallingforher.
Mylaughterdiesoff.
“What’swrong?”Sabrinaasksimmediately.
“Nothing,”Ilie.It’seitherthatortellherwhatI’mthinkingabout,andI’mprettysureshedoesn’twanttohearit.
Idon’tevenwanttoimaginewhatherresponsewouldbeifIadmittedthatI’mfallingforher.We’vefuckedtwiceandgoneononedate.It’swaytooearlytobringtheL-wordintotheconversation.
“Yousure?”Shesoundsconcerned.“Yougotareallydeepcreaseright…here.”Shesmoothstwofingersovermyforehead.
“Naah,I’mgood.”Ishiftinmyseatandeaseclosertoher.“I’mhavingagreattime.”
“Metoo.”Herbottomlippokesoutabit.“Iwish…”
“Youwishwhat?”
Shesighs.“Iwishwecouldgobacktomyplace,butI’vegottobeupatfourinthemorning.Thisisn’tagoodnightformetobeuplate.”
“Same.I’vegotpracticeatseven.”
“Sonosex,”shesaysglumly.
“Notunlessyouwanttogetitoninthetruckagain.”
Interestflickersinherdarkeyesbeforefadingtoresignation.“Tempting,butI’dfeelweirdhavingsexwhenCarinisliketenfeetaway.”
“I’mprettysureCarinisn’tpayinganyattentiontousrightnow.”
Sabrinashakesherhead.“Trustme,theywon’tbeinthereforlong.Shehasastrictno-sex-on-the-first-daterule.Fitzy’sonlygoingtogetamake-outsession.”Shesnickers.“Andprobablyblueballs.”
“Whataboutme?AremyballsgonnahatemewhenIgethome?”
“Idon’tknow.Youtellme.”Thensheslidesovertheconsoleandkissesme.
Whenhertongueswirlsseductivelyovermine,itsendsaboltoflusttomyballs.Igroanagainsthersoftlips.“Yeah,”Icroak.“I’lldefinitelybeicingtheboystonight.”
“Aw.Youpoorbaby,”shewhispers,thenproceedstotorturemewithhungrykissesandthelazyglideofherpalmovermycrotch.
Wemakeoutforawhile,neitherofusanxioustotakeitfurther.Butit’sstillhotashell.Thewindowsofmytruckfogup,andI’mhardasagoalpostbythetimewebreakapart.
“Ishouldgethome,”shesaysregretfully.
Inod,offeringawrysmile.“Rock,Paper,Scissorstodecidewhoknocksontheirwindow?”
Itturnsouttobeunnecessary,becausesuddenlythere’saknockonmywindow.IrollitdowntofindCarin’sflushedfacepeeringdownatme.Herlipsareswollen,herhairatangleofredcurls.
“Sorry,”shesayswithasheepishshrug.“ButBsaidsheneededtoleavebyten-thirty.It’spastthatalready.”
Very,veryreluctantly,IslideoutofthepickupandthenhurryaroundtoSabrina’sdoortoopenitforher.Herexpressionisasreluctantasmine.
Atousled-hairedFitzyisleaningagainstthesideofmytruck,andCarinsmackshisassasshemakesherwaybacktohercar.
“We’lldothisagain?”ImurmurtoSabrina.
“Nakedpaintnight?Idon’tknow.Oncemightbeenough.”
“Anotherdate,”Icorrect.“You’llcallmewhenyouhavesomefreetime?”
Ihalfexpectanargument,butshesimplyliftsuponhertiptoes,kissesmeonthelips,andpullsbacktosay,“Absolutely.”15
Tucker
December
Me:Imissu
Her:Imissu2
Me:Anychancewecanchangethatbymeetingup?I’llbringmydick…
Her:LMAOisn’tthatsortofagiven?U2areapackagedeal
Me:Packageistherightword.Areallybigpackage??
Okay,soI’mlayingitonprettythick,butdamn,Imissthisgirl.Ihaven’tseenherinaweek,whichisabout,oh,sevendaystoolong.Sinceourdoubledatelastmonth,we’vetriedtoseeeachotheratleasttwoorthreetimesaweek.Withourhecticschedules,it’samiraclewe’vemanagedtofindthetime,soitwasboundtohappenthatourscheduleswouldcatchuptous.
Thesepasttwoweeks,we’vebothbeenbusywithschool.I’vehadsomebrutalpracticesandgames,andthenThanksgivingrolledaroundandI’dalreadycommittedtospendingtheholidaywithHollisandhisfamily.IwastemptedtobailandseeSabrinainstead,butshewasworkingandadmittedshe’dratherIdidn’thangaroundatthestripclubwhileshewaitedtables.ApparentlyBoots&ChutesisBummerCentralduringholidays.
I’mdyingtoseeher,sowhenIreadhernextmessage,Idoamentalfistpump.
Her:Ifudon’tmindthedrive,cometoBoston2nite?WorkingonmyConLawpaper,butIcantakeabunchofbreaksifuwannakeepmecompany.
Idon’tevenhesitate.
Me:Onmyway.
Ialreadyshoweredandchangedinanticipationofpossiblyseeinghertonight.Ihurrydownstairs,hopingtoslipoutofthehouseunnoticed.
“Tuck,getinhere!Weneedagrown-up’sopinion.”
Damn.Soclose.
IfollowGarrett’svoicetothelivingroom,whereIfindhimandHannahonthearmchair.She’sinhislap,he’sgothisarmsaroundher,andtheylooksohappyandateasethatIfeelapangofenvy.They’renotalone,though.Logan,FitzyandLogan’sfriendMorrisareonthecouch,videogamecontrollersintheirhands.Thefirst-personshootinggamethey’replayingispausedontheflatscreen.
“What’sup?”Itrytohidemyimpatience.“I’monmywayout.”
Fromthecouch,Loganarchesabrow.“You’vebeenonyourwayoutalotlately.”
Ishrug.“Placestogo,peopletosee.”
“Areyouevergoingtotellushername?”Hannahasksinacheerfulvoice.
“Ihavenoideawhatyou’retalkingabout,”Ireplyinnocently.
Garrettwavesahand.“Idon’tcareaboutTuck’smysterygirlrightnow.Ineedsomeonetobackmeup—pronto.”
Igrin.“Backyouuponwhat?”
“DeanandAllie.”
Ah.Iwaswonderingwhenwe’dbehavingthispowwow.WeallcamebackfromourvariousThanksgivingtripstodiscoverthatDeanandAllieareofficiallyacouple.
Iwasn’tsurprisedtohearit,becauseIalreadysuspectedthey’dhookedup,butIamabitstunnedthatthey’reactuallygoingout.Deanhasn’thadagirlfriendsinceI’veknownhim.
“ApparentlyI’mtheonlyonewhothinksthisistheworstfuckingideasincehorses,”Garrettsaysirritably.
“Horses?”LoganandFitzyechoinunison.
“Like,horsesingeneral?”Morrisasksinconfusion.
“Asin,domesticatingthem,”hegrumbles.“Theybelonginthewild.Endofstory.”
“Babe,”Hannahhedgesin,“areyoujustsayingthatbecauseyou’rescaredofhorses?”
Hisjawdrops.“I’mnotscaredofhorses.”
Sheignoresthedenial.“OhmyGod,it’sallcomingtogether.That’swhyyouwouldn’tgototheThanksgivingfairinPhilly.”Sheglancesattherestofus.“Myauntandunclewantedtotakeustothisfestivalthingwithallthesecoolboothsandapettingzoo…andhorsebackriding.Hesaidhisstomachhurt.”
Garrettvisiblyclencheshisteeth.“Mystomachdidhurt.Iatetoomuchfuckingturkey,Wellsy.Anyway,Idon’tlikethis.I’mgoingtobesoscrewedwhentheybreakup.”
“Theymightnotbreakup,”shepointsout.
Ifurrowmybrow.“Andhowwouldthatevenaffectyou?”
SinceI’mnotseeinghislogic,heslowlyspellsitoutforme.“Sides,dude.Peoplebreakup,theirfriendstakesides.Dean’smybuddy,soobviouslythebrocodesaysIhavetosidewithhim.Butthisone—”HejerksathumbatHannah,“ismygirlfriend.Girlfriendtrumpsbuddy.Wellsy’lltakeAllie’sside,andI’llhavetotakeWellsy’sside,vis-à-vis,I’mtakingAllie’sside.”
“Idon’tthinkyou’reusingvis-à-visright,”Morrispipesup.
“Yeah,Ibelievethewordyou’relookingforistherefore.”Logan’slipsaretwitchingwildly.
“Iwouldn’texpectyoutotakeAllie’ssideonmybehalf,”Hannahprotests.“Andyou’rebeingsuchajackassaboutthis.We’readults.Iftheybreakup,we’llallstillbeabletoco-existpeacefully.”
“RossandRachelco-existed,”Loganagrees.
Fitzysnorts.
GarrettistoobusyglaringatHannah.“Ican’tbelieveyou’recoolwiththis.She’syourbestfriend.He’sgoingtoblowthis—youknowthat.”
Hisgirlfriendshrugs.“AllIknowisthatAllieishappy.AndifAllie’shappy,I’mhappy.”
“Tuck?”Garrettprompts.
Ihesitate.Ononehand,DeanseemsgenuinelyintoAllie,atleastfromthelimitedinteractionsbetweenthemthatI’vewitnessed.Ontheotherhand,theguydoesn’thaveaseriousboneinhisbody.Allie’sanicegirl.Idon’twanttoseehergethurt.
Eitherway,it’snoneofmybusiness.
“Wellsy’sright.They’readults.Iftheywanttobetogether,thenwhocares?”
Heglowersatme.“Traitor.”
“Dude,thegirlTKO’dhimyesterday,”Logansayswithagrin.“Youknowhowbighisegois—ifitcouldtakethatkindofhitandhestillwantstobewithher,thenit’stherealdeal.”
Despitemyself,Istarttolaugh.Fuck.Iwishtheotherguyswereherelastnightforallthechaos.Aftertheteam’sroadgametoScranton,DeanandIcamehometoadarkhousewhereAllieandDean’ssisterwerewatchingahorrormovie.Thegirlsfreaked,AllieaccidentallyknockedDeanoutwithapaperweight,andnowI’mequippedwithenoughammototorturehimfortherestofhislife.
“Ohhey,speakingoflastnight,”Hannahsays.“DidDean’ssistergetbacktoBrownokay?IwishIgottomeether.”
“Trustme,”Fitzymuttersfromthecouch.“You’reluckyyoudidn’t.”
Logansnickers.“Youpoorthing—ahotblondewasthrowingherselfatyou.Howdareshe!”
Theotherguyflushes.“Sheaskedtoseemydick!”
“Andthat’saproblembecause…?”
AsMorrisandGarrettstartlaughingtheirassesoff,Fitzyjustshrugs.“Aggressivechicksaren’tmything.Ilikegoingatmyownspeed,allright?”
I’mtemptedtocallbullshit,becausehesuredidn’tseemtomindwhenSabrina’sfriendCarindraggedhimtohercarforahookup.ButFitzandIhaven’treallyspokenaboutthatnight,soIstayquiet.Besides,ifImentionthedoubledate,everyonewilldemandtoknowwhoIwaswith.
Thelasttimewesaweachother,SabrinateasedmethatI’mnottellingpeopleaboutusbecauseI’mashamedofher.Whichissonotthecase.Myfriendshaveabadhabitofstickingtheirnosesintoeachother’slovelives—caseinpoint,Garrett’sobsessionwithDeanandAllie.Soyeah,I’drathernothavemyrelationshipwithSabrinadissectedbyeveryone,notwhenit’sstillsonew.
Andanyway,Iknowshe’ssecretlyrelievedthatwe’reontheDL.TheonetimeIusedthewordrelationshiptodescribeus,shegotallweirdandfidgetyonme.
“Okay,Igottabounce,”Itelltheroom.“Anyothergrown-upissuesweneedtodiscuss,orcanIgo?”
“Go,”Garrettgrumbles,makingashooingmotionwithhishand.“Youwerenohelpanyway.”
*
Sabrina
Tucker’stongueisinmymouthbeforeIcanevenclosethefrontdoor.Despitetheripplesofheatthatassaultmybody,Iforcemyselftowrenchawayfromthekiss.Nana’sinthekitchen,andIdon’tneedherwalkingoutandwitnessingthis.
“Mygrandmother’shome,”Imurmur.
Iexpectdisappointment,buthesimplynods.“Cool.Wanttointroduceme?”
TheonethingI’velearnedfromdatingTuckerthislastmonthisthatabsolutelynothingfazesthisguy.Hetakeseverythinginstride,adjustingandadaptingasneeded.Idon’tevenknowwhathelookslikewhenhe’sannoyed.
“Ishouldwarnyou—Nana’sabit…outspoken.”That’smytactfulwayofsayingrudebitch.Asweheadforthekitchen,Ipraythatmygrandmotherwon’tbeajerktoTucker.
She’satthetablewhenwewalkin,flippingthroughanissueofUSWeekly.“DidRayforgethiskeyagain?”Nanaaskswithoutlookingup.
“Um.No.”Ishiftawkwardly.“Nana,thisisTucker.”
Herheadfliesup.Immediately,interestfillshergaze.ShestudiesTuckerfromheadtotoe,soblatantinheroglingthatIfeelmycheeksheatup.
“Nana,”Ichide.
Shesnapsoutofit.“It’sverynicetomeetyou,Tucker.”Sheemphasizesthewordvery
Great.Mygrandmotherishittingonmy…well,I’mnotsurewhatheis.ButNana’sseductivetonestillisn’tcool.
“I’mJoy,Sabrina’sgrandma.”
“It’snicetomeetyou,ma’am.”Heextendshishandforashake,andsheholdsitalittletoolong.Longenoughthathelooksuncomfortablewhenhestepsback.
“Sabrinadidn’tmentionshehadaboyfriend.”
“We’rejustfriends,”Ianswer.
Tucker’sshoulderstense.
Awfuck.Iwasn’ttryingtohurthisfeelings.Isimplydon’twantNanagettingallnosyandaskinguswhentheweddingisorsomeshit.
“Ithoughtyouweretoobusyforfriends.”Sheliftsamockingbrow.
Igritmyteeth.“I’mnottoobusyforfriends.IhangoutwithHopeandCarin,don’tI?”
Ratherthananswer,sheturnsbacktoTucker.“So,whatareyoutwofriendsuptotonight?”
Ispeakbeforehecan.“We’regoingtohangoutinmyroomforawhile.Maybewatchamovieorsomething.”
Aknowingsmirkcurvesherlips.“Allrightthen.Trytokeepthevolumedown,hmmm?”
Andweallknowshe’snottalkingaboutthetelevisionvolume.
Cheeksscorching,IdragTuckeroutofthekitchen.“I’msorry,”Isaywhenwe’reinthehall.“Shecanbeinappropriate.”
Hissteadygazefindsmine.“Whywoulditbeinappropriateforhertoaskwhatwearetoeachother?”
Iavertmyeyes.He’sgotmethere.
Truthis,thereasonIdon’twantNanaaskingquestionsisbecauseIdon’thaveanyanswers.Idon’tknowwhatTuckerandIaretoeachother.AllIknowisthatImisshimwhenhe’snotaround.Thateverytimeatextfromhimpopsuponmyphone,myheartsoarslikeaclusterofheliumballoons.Thatwhenhelooksatmewiththoseheavy-liddedbrowneyes,Iforgetmyownname.
Wegotomybedroom,wherehesitsontheedgeofthebedwhileIcloseandlockthedoor.Acouplesecondstickby.Thenhepatshislapandsays,“C’mere,darlin’.”
I’monhiminaheartbeat,mylegswrappedaroundhiswaistandmyfingersinhishair.“Ireallydidmissyou,”Iwhisper,pressingmylipstohis.
KissingTuckerislikesinkingintoahotbath.Itmakesmyskintingleandturnsmylimbstojelly,surroundingmeinacocoonofheatthatIneverwanttoemergefrom.Histonguedragsovermylowerlipbeforeeasingintomymouth.Hishandsarewarmandsolidastheyslideunderneathmytanktopandstrokemybarehips.
BeforeIknowit,we’retangledtogetheronthebed,clawingateachother’sclothesevenwhileourmouthsstaylocked.Oncewe’renaked,mybodystrainsagainsthim,achingforrelease.Tuckerisjustasfrantic.There’snoforeplay,nowordsexchanged.Igrabacondomfrommynightstand,tossittohim,andheputsitonwithoutdelay.
It’sthequietestsexwe’veeverhad.Ithastobe,becauseNanaisrightdownthehall.Andthere’ssomethingsohotanddirtyaboutthesilentwaywefuck.Hefillsmecompletely,slidinginandoutofmypulsingcoreinaslow,sweetpacethatdrivesmewild.
“Gonnacomesoon,”hewhispersinmyear.
Iopenmyeyestofindhishandsomefeaturesstretchedtaut,histeethdiggingintohisbottomlipashestrugglestokeepquiet.
Thegorgeoussightsucceedsinsplinteringthetensionbuildinginsideme.Astheorgasmcrashestothesurface,Igaspandclingtohisbroadshouldersandholdhimtightasheshuddersontopofme.
Afterward,herollsoverandpullsmeagainsthim.HisfingersthreadthroughmyhairasIcurlonelegoverhislowerbody.Wesnugglewordlesslyforawhile,untilTuckfinallybreaksthesilencebytellingmewhathe’sbeenuptolately.Wetextregularly,soIknowmostofthestoriesalready,butthisguy’svoiceissosexythatIwouldlistentohimrecitearestaurantmenuifitmeanthearingthatsoutherndrawlpurringinmyear.
IsmothergigglesbehindmyhandwhenhetellsmehowDean’sgirlfriend—figurethatoneout—knockedDeanunconsciouswithapaperweightlastnight.Ikisshisshoulderwhenheconfesseshowmuchhe’slookingforwardtoseeinghismomfortheupcomingholidays.AndwhenIadmithowstressedIamoverfinals,hestrokesmybackandassuresmethatI’mgoingtokickass.
Eventuallywethrowourclothesonanddoputonamovie,buthe’stheonlyonewatchingit.IcrackopenatextbookandstarthighlightingpassagesthatIwanttosourceinmypaper.TuckchucklessoftlyattheraunchycomedyonthesmallTVmountedtomywall.
Everysooftenheleansoverandkissesmytemple,rubsmycheek,tweaksmynipple.
EverysooftenIleanoverandsuckonhisneck,strokehisbeard,pinchhisass.
It’sthemostperfectnightIcould’veeverimagined.Andinthebackofmymind,alittlevoicekeepswhispering,Icouldgetusedtothis…16
Tucker
AfterIgetofftheplaneinDallas,Momiswaitingatthebottomoftheescalatorwiththreeballoons.You’dthinkIwascominghomefromthebattlefieldinsteadofaposhEasterncollege.
“Lookatyou!”shecries.
Ipickherupandswingheraroundbeforesettingherbackonherfeet.Sheleansin,thefamiliarsmellofhairsprayandammoniawaftingup.
“WhatshouldIbelookingat?”Itease.
Shegivesmeasappymomsmilebeforewrappingonethinarmaroundmywaistandsqueezing.“Howhandsomeyouare.Youlookwonderful.”
Ishrugaswebegintomakeourwaytotheexit.“Ifeelprettygood.”
“Thankgoodness.Ithoughtyou’dbedepressedoverhowyourseasonisgoing.”Ourgamesaren’ttelevisedoften,butshefollowstheresultsonline.
“Isthatwhattheballoonsarefor?”
“Didyouthinktheballoonsareforyou?Becausethey’renot.”
“Isthatwhythesilveronesays‘WelcomeHome,Son’?”
“Itwasdiscounted.Iwould’veboughtthe‘I’mtheGreatestMomintheWorld,’butitcostfivedollarsmore.”
“Man,thepatriarchyisevenruiningballoonsales?”
Thrustingtheattachedstreamerstowardme,shelaughs.“It’saterribleworld,whichiswhyweneedballoons.”
“Thisfeelssuspiciouslylikethepinkapronincident,”Isayinmockprotest,butItaketheballoonsanywayandbenddowntopressakissonthetopofherhead.Likethepinkapronmyroommatesgaveme,carryingafewballoonsthroughtheairportisn’tgoingtodentmyego.
“IfIwereyou,I’dgivethemallsomethingpinkinreturn.”
IcontemplatethepinkdildothatDeanlikestotakebathswith.“That’snotabadidea.I’vegottopickupafewgiftsbeforeIheadback.I’llmakesureeverythingIbuyiseitherpinkorfullofglitter.Both,ifpossible.”GarretandLoganwoulddielaughingatthethoughtofgivingDeanapink,glitteringdildo.Imakeamentalnotetotexttheguyslater.
“Youdidn’tcheckabag?”sheasksaswebypassthebaggagecarousels.
“No,ma’am.”Idon’tneedtolookatherfacetoknowshe’sdisappointed.“YouknowI’vegottogetbackforpractice.Eveniftheseasonissuckingwind,I’mstillrequiredtolace’emup.That’sthepriceofmyscholarship.”
Mybusyscheduleduringtheholidayshasalwaysbeenasourceofdismayformymother,whogoesalloutcelebratingstuff.ShelivesforChristmas,whichiswhyImadethetrekhomeeventhoughalotoftheguysstayedbackatBriar.
“Ithoughtmaybebecausethisisyourlastyearandyouguysweren’tdoingwell,thatyou’dbeallowedtospendtheentirebreakwithme.”
“Doesn’tworkthatway.Besides,soonI’llbeunderfootallthetimeandyou’llbebeggingmetoleave,”Iwarnher.
ButevenasIsayit,mymindzipsbacktoSabrina.She’sgoingtobeinBostonforthenextthreeyears.Iwonderhowwe’regoingtomakethatwork.
Iwonderifsheevenwantstomakeitwork.
It’dbealoteasierifwe’dmetlastyear.Orhell,evenlastsemester,butwe’veonlygotafewmoremonthswherewe’llbeinthesamezipcode,andforreasonsI’mnotfullypreparedtoexamine,especiallywithMomatmyside,thecomingdistancebetweenusbotherstheshitoutofme.
IfighttheurgetoclimbbackontheplaneandreturntoBoston.ButI’llhavetosettlefortexting,phonecalls,andmaybeifI’mlucky,alittlevideochatting.I’dliketoseehowsheuseshertoywhenI’mnotaround.
InearlyrunintoMom’sSUV,lostinmythoughtsaboutSabrinaandhervibrator.Iclearmythroat.“MindifIdrive?”
Shetossesmethekeys.“I’dnevercomplainaboutyoubeingaroundtoomuch.YouknowI’dloveitifyoucamebackandlivedwithme.”
“Yeah,that’snothappening.Nowomanalivewantstogooutwithaguywholiveswithhismom,”Isay,holdingthedooropenforher.
Sheclimbsinwithafrown.“What’swrongwithlivingwithyourmother?
“Everything,andyouknowit.”ThenIleanforwardandpressanotherkissonherforeheadtotakeawaythesting.
Duringthefour-hourridehomefromDallas,shecatchesmeuponthelocalgossipofPatterson.“MariaSolis’sdaughterishomefromUT.ShegetsherhaircutinAustinnow,butshestillhasthenicestmanners.Shestoppedintheotherdayjusttosayhi.”
Inodabsently,wonderingifIhadinvitedSabrinatocomehomewithmefortheholidaysifshewouldhavesaidyes.Ifiguredtheinvitationwouldbeunwelcome,notjustbecauseshe’dviewitasasignweweremovingtoofast,butbecausesheneedsthemoneyfromwork.BeforeIleft,shewasnearlybesideherselfwithhappinessaboutthetimeandahalfshewasgoingtobemaking.
“Youshouldaskherout.”Mom’svoicepenetratesmydaydreamsagain.
“Who?”Iask.
“MariaSolis’sdaughter,”sherepliesimpatiently.
Iglanceawayfromtheroadtogiveheranincredulousstare.“YouwantmetodateDanielaSolis?”
“Whynot?She’sgorgeousandsmart.”Momsitsbackinherseatandcrossesherarms.
“She’salsogay.”
Hermouthfallsopen.“DaniSolisisgay?”
“Iguesstheappropriatetermislesbian,”Isay,rememberingmygenderstudiescourse.
“No,”mymotherprotests.“She’sfartoobeautiful.”
“Mom,beautifulgirlscanbelesbians.”
“Areyousure?Maybeshe’sbi.Iknowtheysaykidsexperimentincollege.”
“ShetookCassieCartertoprom!Youdidboththeirhair.”
“Ithoughttheywerefriends.”
“Theyhadtogoasfriendsbecausethepromfolkswouldn’tletthemattendasacouple.”
ThesmallWestTexastownIgrewupinisatadontheconservativeside.DaniandCassiewerefriends,onlyonesthatkissedandfelteachotherupinthehallway.Anddroveeveryteenageboyineyeballingdistancerightoutoftheireverlovingminds.I’dspentmanyateenagenightfantasizingaboutthethingsthosetwogirlsdidinprivate.Itwasprobablyinappropriate,butthemajorityofmythoughtsfromaboutagetentoseventeenfellintotheinappropriatecategory.
Momslumpsinherseat.She’dobviouslyworkedoutanelaborateplaninhermindaboutDaniandmegettingtogether.
“RememberwhenItoldyouthatImetagirl?”Isayslowly,decidingthatIbettergetthisouttherenowbeforeshestartstryingtopairmeoffwitheverysinglegirlinPatterson.
“Oh?”Hervoiceisguarded.“Ithoughtitwasn’tathing?”
“Itisnow.Look,you’dlikeher.She’sgotperfectgrades,workstwojobs,andjustgotacceptedintoHarvardLaw.”
“Harvard?Isn’tthatinBoston?”
Theworryisheavyinhervoice.Igetit.She’sconcernedthatifIfallforagirlinBoston,Iwon’tmovebackhome,whichiswhyshesprangtheDaniSolisthingonmebeforeweevenfinishedthedrivehome.
“Yeah.Cambridge.”Ican’tevengiveherassurances,becauseatthispoint,Idon’tknowwhatI’mdoingaboutBoston,Patterson,oranyofit.TheonlythingI’msureofisthatIwanttobewithSabrina.
“Howlongislawschool?”
“Threeyears.”AKAtoolongtobeseparated.
“Yourplanisstilltocomehomeandbuyabusiness,right?IwastalkingwithStewartRandolphtheotherday.Yourememberhim?HeownstherealestatebusinessoveronPleasant.He’sthinkingofretiring,andthatkidofhisdoesn’twanttomovefromAustin.ItsoundslikeRandywouldbeinterestedinentertainingoffers.”
Igripthesteeringwheelalittletighter.Sabrinaaskedifanythinggottome.Well,makingmymomunhappyisonthetopofthatlist.ButtheideaofbuyingStewartRandolph’srealestatebusinessmightbeaclosesecond.Infact,theactualideaofsittinginRandolph’soffice,wearingatieeveryday,makesmyskinitch.I’vegotsomeideasaboutwhatI’mgoingtodowhenIgraduateandbeingarealtorisn’toneofthem,particularlyinPatterson,population10,000.
“I’lltalktohim,”Ihearmyselfsaying.
“Good.”Atleastsomeone’ssatisfied.“Oh,bytheway,theSolisesarecomingtodinnertonight.”
“JesusChrist,Mom.”
“Don’tcurse,John.”
Idraginadeepbreathandprayforpatience,wonderingwhenI’llbeabletotextSabrina.
*
“Mymomhasofficiallydubbedyoua‘goodcatch.’”Danitakesaseatnexttomeonthebackstepsofthesmalltwo-storyhousewhereI’velivedallmylife.
Itapmyglassofsangriaagainsthers.“That’ssolid.I’mgoingtoputthatonmyTinderprofile.”
“Shealsosaysthatyouhaveasecretcacheofmoneythatyou’llshoweronmewhenIprovideyoutherequisitefirstborn.”Dani’sgrinstretchesfromeartoear.She’sclearlylovingthis.
“Mymothertoldmeyouweregorgeousandsmart.”Istifleasigh,thinkingoftheothergorgeousandsmartgirlwhoIhaven’tgottentotextsinceIsenthertheIlandedhoursago.
HerresponseofYay!Gladtohearitisn’tprovidingmewithmynecessarySabrinadailyintake.Iguessabsencedoesmaketheheartgrowfonder,becauseImisstheshitoutofher.
“Andyousaid?”
Ijerkmyattentionbacktomyfriend.“ThatIthoughtyouwerealesbianandMomrepliedthatmaybeyouwerebi.”
ThissetsDanioff.Shefoldsinhalf,laughingsohardthatthesangriaspillsallovertherim.
IlifttheglassoutofherhandsoIdon’tgetshoweredwiththedrink,andsetitonmyotherside.IttakesawhileforDanitogethershittogether,soIfinishmydrinkandthendowntherestofhers.
“Tuck,I’msorry,”shegasps,wipingawine-drenchedhandacrossherface.“TheideaofMamaTuckerhopingthatI’mbisexualsowecanpairupisjusttoofunny.”
“GoodthingI’mconfidentaboutmyappeal,”Isaydryly.“Orallthiscacklingmight’vemademyballsshrivel.”
Danisobersupimmediately.“Ohhell,didIoffendyou?Doyou…havefeelingsforme?”
“Nope,andI’mnotsayingyouaren’tababe,becauseyouare,butI’veknownyouswingacertainwaysincewewereinjuniorhigh.”
“Yeah,I’vealwaysknown.”Shebitesherlip.“Wasyourmomupset?”
“Shedidn’tthinklessofyou,ifthat’swhatyou’reasking.She’sjustdisappointed.”
Danigivesmeapensivenod.“Pattersonissosmall-minded,youknow?I’mokayforavisit,butIcouldneverlivehere.”Shepunctuatesherdeclarationwithashiverofdistaste.“I’msurprisedyou’recomingback.”
“Why’sthat?”
“Tuck,youplayhockey.”Shesaysthelastwordlikeithasextrameaning,butI’mdumb,soIhavetoaskforanexplanation.
“There’sahockeyteaminDallas,”Iremindher.“It’snotthatunusual.”
“Itistoo.Thisisafootballstate,butno,you,aTexasboy,lovetheiceandcold.I’msurprisedyouaren’tstayingupinBoston.”
Ikickoutmylegsandpeerupatthedarkeningsky.Patterson’soneofthoserelictowns—onceitwasself-sustaining,butnearlyallofthesmallbusinessesweresqueezedoutbyregionalstoresthatofferedcheaperpricesandmorechoices.Mostfolkswholivehereeitherfarmorworkatthetractorplanttwotownsover.LivinginBostonissomethingI’vethoughtabout,buteverytimeI’vebroughtituptomymotherinthelastfouryears,she’srejectedtheidea.
“Momlovesithere.Thisismydaddy’shousethatheboughtwhentheyweremarried.”Ipatthesteps.“Shedoesn’twanttoleaveit.”
“Sothere’snooneyoumetatBriar?YouspentfouryearsthereandarejustcominghometosettleinandbePatterson’snumber-onerealtor?”Sheholdsupherindexfingeranddeepenshervoice.
Gottaadmit,thatdoesn’tsoundgood.“Youknowaboutthoseplanstoo?”
“Yeah,thatwaspartofthesalespitch.Alongwithyourhugebankaccount,you’dbeabletokeepmeinluxuryfortherestofourlivesbysellinghousesinthisplace.ThegoodnewsforyourmomisthateverysinglegirlinPattersonwouldgivetheirlefttittobeJohnTucker’swoman.”
There’sonlyonegirlIwanttoslapthatlabelon,andI’mnotentirelycertainshewantsit.
“I’vegotagirlbackinBriar,”Iconfess.TalkingaboutSabrinamakesherfeelalittlecloser.Man,I’vegottensappy.IguessIdon’tcarethatIam,becauseIpulloutmyphone.“Wannasee?”
Daninodseagerly.
IthumbtoapictureItookofSabrinaatapubwherewegrabbeddinnerthelasttimeIdroveuptoseeher.Herdarkhairislooseandcascadingdownhershoulders,andhereyesaregleamingimpishlybecauseshe’djustsmackedmyassaswewereleaving.
“Jesus,she’shot!”Danigrabsmyphonetopinchandzoom,firstonSabrina’sfaceandthentherestofherbody.“Areyousureshe’snotbi?Becauseit’sacrimethatshehastosufferthroughlifewithaman.”
“Hey,I’mgoodwithmytongue.”
Danigivesmeasomewhatcontemptuouslook.“Nomaniseverasgoodatoralasalesbian.It’sascientifictruth.”
“Yeah?Thenspillyoursecrets,Solis.Ifnotforme,thenforpoorSabrina.”
Dani’slipscurveintoasexysmile.“Youknowwhat?Iwill.”
Andthensheproceedstogivemeaverygraphiclessoninwhatmakesgoodoral.17
Sabrina
RanintooldHSfriend.She’sanL.Toldmenomancaneverdeliverwhatawomancan.Gotherdrunkonsangriaandforcedher2revealhersecrets.Prepareurself.I’mgoingtowrecku.
Tucker’stextpopsupduringmybreakattheclub.AsIslipoffmysix-inchheels,Itypeinareply:
Promises.Promises.
Whenthere’snoimmediateresponse,Iputmyphoneawayandtrynottobedisappointed.Iguesshe’sbusywithhismomandhisoldfriends.
Therockthatsettledintomystomachwhenhelefttodaygrowsalittlelarger.Imisshim.AndifI’mhonestwithmyself,IthinkI’mfallingforhim.JohnTuckerhassliddeftlyintomylife,fillingspacesthatIdidn’trealizeexisted.
Andhe’snotthedistractionIthoughthewouldbe.WhenIneedquiet,hegivesittome.WhenIneedfun,he’stherewithareadysmile.Andwhenmywholebodyaches,hehasnoproblemfuckingmeuntilI’mabonelessmess.Helikesbeingwithme.AndIlikebeingwithhim.
Isqueezethebackofmyneck.AmIintoodeepalready?ShouldIgetoutnow?CanIcontinuethiswithoutoneofusgettinghurt?
TuckerhadguessedthatIhadmywholelifeplannedout—andIdid.ThevisionIhadoffouryearsofcollegefollowedbylawschoolfollowedbyawell-payingsummerinternshipwhichprecedestheperfectjobataBigSixlawfirmendingwithretirementinsomesunnyplaceonthebeach…it’saplanthatdidn’teverincludeaman.Idon’tknowwhy.Itjustdidn’t.
Menarefor…sex.Andit’seasytogetandeasytoletgo.Oratleast,itwaseasytoletgo.Now,notsomuch,becausetheideaofnothavingTuckermakesthatrockinmystomachfeellikeaboulder.Actually,therockismakingmefeelqueasy.ItakeafewdeepbreathsandtrytorememberthelasttimeIatesomething.
“Youokay,honey?”KittyThompsonasksinconcern.KittyisoneoftheownersofBoots&Chutes.Sheandthreeotherformerstrippersruntheclub,andit’soneofthebestplacesI’veeverworked.
Irubmytemplebeforeanswering.“Justwornout.”
“Onlyacouplemorehours.”Shecluckssympathetically.“Andit’sslowtonight.I’llprobablyletyougoearly.”
Webothtakeinthehandfulofoccupiedtables.
Withadecisivenod,shesays,“Yes,youmightaswelltakeoff.Youwouldn’tearnmuchmorethantwentydollars.Gohomeandgetsomerest.”
Idon’tneedhertotellmetwice.HavingacouplemorehoursofsleepbeforeIneedtobeatthepostofficetosortmailsoundslikeadream.SoIhurryhomeandthenfallintobedwithoutcheckingmyphoneagain.It’llstillbethereinthemorning.
Atthree-fortymyalarmgoesoff.WhenIpushupintoasittingposition,Inearlypassoutfromdizziness.Thecontentsoflastnight’shastilygulpedsupperattheclubthreatentomakeareappearance.
Iclosemyeyesandtakeseveraldeepbreaths.OnceIfeellikeIcanstandwithoutthrowingupallovermyfeet,Ibendovertograbmyphone.
Whichisahugemistake.
Mystomachrevolts.VomitisinmymouthbeforeIcanmakeittothebathroom,andI’malreadythrowingupbeforeIcansnapthetoiletlidup.IdroptomykneesaseverythingI’deatenforwhatseemslikethelastweekcomesoutanddumpsintotheporcelainbowl.
OhGod.Ifeelawful.
Iheaveuntilthere’snothingbutpalewaterybile.Stillonmyknees,Ireachforatowelandwipemyfaceoff.I’msweating,Irealize.Shaking,sweating,andsickasadog.Weakly,Iflushthetoilettwicebeforedraggingmyselfupright.
Atthesink,Iswishmymouthoutwithwaterandthenstareatmypalereflection.Ihavetogotowork.Duringeveryholidayseason,there’sashortageofworkersandthefull-timeemployeesreceivetimeandahalf.Ican’taffordtostayhome.
Itotterbacktomybedroomonlytostopatmydoor.Uh-oh.ThewaterIswallowedisn’tsittingwell.Sweatbreaksoutacrossmyforehead,forcingmebacktothetoilet.
AsIflushthemessaway,Icometotherealization.
I’mgoingtohavetocallinsick.There’snowayIcangoin.
Theclockbesidemybedsaysit’sfivepastfour.I’malreadylate.Ipickupthephoneanddial.Mysupervisor,Kam,answersrightaway.
“Kam,it’sSabrina.I’vebeenthrowingup—”
“Doyouhaveadoctor’snote?”hedemands.
“No,but—”
“Sorry,Sabrina,youneedtocomein.It’sallhandsondeck.Youaskedfortheseshifts.”
“Iknow,but—”
“Nobuts.Sorry.”
“I’vebeenpukingall—”
“Look,Ihavetogo,butasafavorI’llgopunchyourtimecardsoyouaren’tdockedorwrittenupforbeinglate.Butyouneedtogetinhere.We’vegotsomanyfrickin’boxestosort,Ican’tevenseetheothersideoftheroom.Doesn’tanyoneshopatthemallanymore?”
It’sarhetoricalquestion,apparently,becausehehangsupimmediatelyafter.
Istareatmyphoneandthenpushtomyfeet.I’mgoingtowork,Iguess.
“Youlookterrible,”oneofthetemporaryworkerscommentswhenIstumbleintwentyminuteslater.“Don’tstandbyme.Idon’twanttogetsick.”
Isquintatherthroughnarrowedeyesandamtemptedtobarfalloverherstarchyuniform.“Meneither,”Isayshortly.
KamarriveswithafrownandhisiPad.“Getoverintobayfourandstartsorting.We’resofreakingbehindit’snotevenfunny.”
Iresisttheurgetosalute.Iagreewithhim,though—there’snothingfunnyaboutthissituation.Ifeelterrible.
Thewholemorningdragson.IfeellikeI’mcoveredintar,eachmovementofmybodyrequiringsomucheffort.Imust’vegottenaflubug.I’mworndown,justlikeHopehadwarned,duetothetwojobs,thefullload,theworryaboutHarvard.IpushedmyselftoomuchthissemesterandnowI’mpayingforit.
Whentheshiftisover,Ibarelyhavetheenergytopourmyselfintothecaranddriveoutoftheparkinglot.Imakeithome,buttheminuteIhitthekitchen,anotherwaveofnauseastrikes.Islapahandovermymouthandrushtothebathroom.
“What’swrongwiththetwoofyou?”grumblesRay,who’sstandingattheopendoor.He’swearingoneofhisstainedwhitetanktopsuntuckedoverapairofgraysweatpants.Inonehandisabeer.
You.You’rewhat’swrongwithus.
Thenthemeaningofhiswordssinksin.“Whatdoyoumeanthetwoofus?IsNanasick?”
“Soshesays.Shedidn’tfinishmakingmybreakfast.Shegotsickandhadtogopassoutinthebedroom.”HejerkshisheadtowardNana’sroom.
Idragmyselftomyfeetandstumbleintoherroom.“Nana,yousick?”Iask
Theroom’sdarkandshe’slyingonthebedwithaneyemaskonherface.“Yeah.IthinkIcamedownwiththeflu.”
“Shit.I’vegotittoo.”
“Iheardyoupukingthismorning.”
“Sorry.”
Shepatsthebed.“Comeoverhereandlaynexttome,baby.Youdonewithwork?”
Inod,eventhoughshecan’tseeme.“Yeah,I’moffuntiltomorrowmorning.Noclubtonight.”
“That’sgood.Youworktoohard.”
Icrawlontothespacethatshe’smadeforme.BackwhenIwaslittle,IusedtosleepwithNana.I’dgetscaredandshe’dfindmehuddledundermyblankets,cryingintomypillow.MomwasoffwithRayoroneofthemanymenshehadbeforeRay.Nanawouldcarrymeintoherroomandtellmethatthemonstersweren’tgoingtogetmeaslongasweheldontoeachother.
Ifindmygrandmother’shandandtwinemyfingersthroughhers.“It’sonlyforafewmoremonths.”
“Don’tkillyourselfbeforethen.”
“Iwon’t.”
Shesqueezesmyfingers.“I’msorryaboutwhatIsaid.”
“What’sthat?”
“Thatyou’reuppity.Thatyourmommathoughtaboutgettingridofyou.I’mgladshedidn’t.Iloveyou,babygirl.”
Tearsprickmyeyes.“Iloveyoutoo.”
“I’msorryI’mnotabetterparenttoyou.”
“You’vedoneagoodjob,”Iprotest.“I’mgoingtoHarvard,remember?”
“Yeah.Harvard.”Thewordisfilledwithdisbeliefandwonder.
“Whataboutme?”Raywhinesfromthedoorway.“Youneverfinishedcookingbreakfastandit’snowfuckinglunchtime.”
Nexttome,IcanfeelNana’sslightbodyshakeandIdon’tknowwhetherit’sfromangerorsickness.Iforcemyselftositup.“Youstayhere,Nana.I’llgetit.”
Sheturnsherheadawayfromthedoor,awayfromRay,butalsoawayfromme.Iguess,secretly,IwantedhertotellRaytogofuckhimself.
HegruntsasIpasshimonmywaytothekitchen.
“Whatdoyouwant?”Iopenthefridgeandfinditsurprisinglyempty.IwonderifNana’sbeenfeelingsickforawhileandIhaven’tnoticed.
“Grilledcheeseandtomatosoup,”hesays.Hedragsachairawayfromthekitchentableanddropshisskinnyassintoit.
“GowatchTV,”ItellhimasIpulloutablockofcheddarcheese,butterandmilk.
“Nah,Ilikeseeingyourassinthekitchen.It’sjustasgoodasanyshow.”Hefoldshisarmsbehindhisheadandleansback.Icanfeelhisbeadyeyesfollowingmyeverysluggishmove.
ThebreadlookssurprisinglyinvitingandItearoffasmallpiece,chewingitslowlytoseeifIcankeepitdown.Whenmystomachdoesn’tsenditstraightbackinrevolt,Ieatanothersmallpiece.Afterafewmoments,thedizzinessandqueasinesssubside.
Thecast-ironpanisalreadyonthestove,andIhavethesandwichreadytobrowninnotime.
“Don’tforgetthesoup,missy.”
Irubthesideofmyneckwithmymiddlefingerbeforecrossingtheroomtograbacanofsoupoutofthecupboard.
“Whyareyousuchanasshole?”IaskconversationallyasIrootaroundinthedrawerforthecanopener.“Isitbecauseyou’reaworthlesssackofshitandcan’tbeartolookatyourselfinthemirror?OrisitbecausetheonlywomanyoucanconintoyourbedthesedaysisamemberoftheAARP?”
“I’vegotplentyofpussy,don’tyouworryaboutme.Somedayyou’regoingtofalloffyourhighhorseandcomecrawlingtome.”Hemakesagrosssmackingsoundwithhismouth.“AndmaybeI’llagreetofuckyou,ormaybeI’lljustletyousuckmeoffwhenIfeellikeit.”
I’dratherkillmyself.
No,Icorrect,I’dkillhimfirst.
AsIoperatethecanopener,IfantasizeaboutthesharplidcomingoffandwingingacrosstheroomandslicingRay’sdickoff.Thentheacidofthetomatohitsmynose,andanoverwhelmingurgetovomitwashesoverme.
Idropeverythingandracetothebathroom,whereIthrowupforthethirdtimetoday.18
Tucker
NewYear’sEve
Atquarterpasttwo,Sabrinaappearsattheentranceoftheclub.Herbrownhairispulledupinahighponytailandshe’sthrownalongcoatoverherskimpywaitressinguniform.Anolderladyexitsbehindher.Thetwoexchangewords,pausingunderthedimlylitentrance.
Myheartstartsthumpingerratically.Ididn’tgettokisshertonightatmidnighttoringintheNewYear,butIplanonkissingherallnightlongtomakeupforthat.ImissedherlikecrazydowninTexas,andeventhoughmymomworkedmelikeadog,Sabrinawasn’tfarfrommymind.
Ifixedtherailingontheporch,helpedMomrepotsomeoftheperennialsshewaskeepinginthegarage,changedfivelightbulbs,thebatteriesonallthesmokedetectors,cleanedoutherfurnace,andranerrandsfromthemomentIgotupuntilthemomentIlaydown.I’dalsometwithMr.#1Realtorandmadealltherightnoises,butashardasItriedtoenvisionSabrinainPatterson,theimagenevercameintofocus.
“Hey,handsome,”shegreetsme.“Ididn’tknowyouwerecominghere.IthoughtIwasmeetingupwithyoutomorrow.”
“Couldn’twait,”Isaytruthfully.“HappyNewYear,darlin’.”
“HappyNewYear,Tuck.”
Igatherherupagainstmeandburymyfaceinherexposedneck.Shequiversinresponsetothelightcaress,andthehalf-hardcockinmypantsrisestofullmast.
Reluctantly,Isetherasideandpullopenthecardoor.“Webettergetgoingorallmygoodintentionsaregoingintotheshitter.”
“Ithoughtyourgoodintentionsweretofuckmeintotomorrow,”sheteases,referencingoneofthetextsImanagedtoshootofftoherinbetweenthechoresmymomthoughtup.
InearlytackleSabrinatotheground,butdespiteherlightwords,Icanseeexhaustionineverylineofhergorgeousface.
Instead,Inodtowardtheotherstrudgingtowardtheircars.“Whygivethesefolksafreeshow?”
“Goodpoint.”Shetwirlsthekeyringaroundherfinger.“Slightproblem.MystepfatherishomeandIdon’tknowifwewantarepeatofthatlastscene.”
Ican’timaginewhy.Thefuckingpervertedbastardneedsafistinhisfaceandabootuphisass,butIdon’twanttobringhimintotheequation.I’vegotawholeseriesofeventsplannedoutandtheydon’tincludespendingasecondonthatdickhole.
“Idon’tgivearat’sassaboutyourstepdad,”Iadmit,“butIfiguredsinceit’stheholidaysandIdidn’tgetyouapresent,thatwe’ddosomethingdifferent.Whydon’tyougetin?”
Sheswingsherkeysaroundagainandthentossesthemovertome.“Youdrive.I’mtired.”
Icatchthemeasilyandunlockthedoors.Reachingin,IpushtheseatbacksoI’mnotdrivingwithmykneesaroundmyneck.
Sabrinaclimbsintothepassengerseat.“Wherearewegoing?”
“Downtown.”
“Oooh,soundslikeamystery.Ilikemysteries.”
AndI’dliketoeatyouup.Istareathermouthforwaytoolongbeforegivingmyselfamentalheadslapandputtingthecarindrive.
“Howwaseverything?Youfeelingbetter?”
“I’mokay.Itcomesandgoes.Nanaisbetter,though,soIfigureIjustneedtosweatitoutafewmoredaysandI’llhaveworkedthebugoutofmysystem.”
Istretchmyarmacrossthecarandslipmyhandbehindherhead.It’sbeenalongtimesinceI’vetouchedher,andIneedthissmallconnection.
“Youwantmetotakeyoutoadoctor?”Ioffer.
“DoIlookthatterrible?”
“No,you’regorgeous,butyousaidyou’vebeensick,”andyoufeelfragile—likebrittleglass—undermyhand,“AndIwanttotakecareofyou.”
“No,Idon’twanttogotoadoctor.”
“Isitthecash?Becauseifyoudon’twantmetocoverit,wecouldgotoHastingstothecampusclinic.”
Sheshakesherhead,aslowrollbackandforthonmypalm.Islidemygriplowertomassageherneck,andshemoans.Thesoundgoesstraighttomyneglectedcock.
“I’vegotinsurance.Ijustneedtorest,”sheinsists.“Andit’sSundaytomorrow,whichmeansIgettospendthewholedaybummingaroundanddoingnothing.”
Idecidenottopushtheissue.“Whatacoincidence.That’smyplan.”
Thistimewhenoureyesmeet,hergazeisashotasmine.IpunchthegasalittleharderthanIintendto.
“Ahotel?”shesquawkswhenIpullupinfrontoftheFairmonttenminuteslater.
Igrin.“MerrybelatedChristmas.”
Thevaletreacheshersideandopensthedoor.Ihopoutandroundthefrontbumper,thankinghimasIthrowhimthekeys.Thisisallcostingmeaprettypenny,butIdon’tcare.NordoIcarethatthedoormanissmirkingatSabrina’soutfitandourcar.HeprobablythinksI’mgoingtogetrippedoffbybringingahookerbacktomyroom.
“Yourpresentisatmyhouse,”shesaysmournfullyasIjoinheronthesidewalk.
Drapinganarmaroundherback,Igentlypushherforward.“Youcangiveittometomorrowduringourbumming-aroundtime.”
“Deal.”
IleadherdirectlytotheelevatorsandthenstareatthedigitaldisplaysoIdon’tattackherinthelobbyofthisswankyhotel.
“I’mprettysureeveryoneherethinksI’maprostitute,”shesaysdryly.
“Iftheydo,it’sbecausethat’stheonlywaysomeoneashotasyouisallowingmetoputmygrubbymittsalloveryourbody.”
“Bullshit,butthat’sanicecompliment.”
“I’dkissyourightnow,butsinceIhaven’tseenyouintendays,I’dprobablylosecontrolandtrytohumpyouinthelobby.”
“Icanwait.”Shestarespointedlyatthebulgeinmyjeans.“Although,fromtheoutlineofyourmonster,myguessisthatnoonewouldbesurprised.”
Thedingingoftheelevatordoorscoversmygrowl,butjudgingbythesmirkthatspreadsacrossSabrina’sface,Icantellshehearsit.
Wegetoffonthefourthfloor.IbarelymakeitinsidetheroombeforeIhaveherpressedupagainstthedoor,mytongueinsidehermouth,myhandspushingopenhercoattogropehertits.
Shemoans,butit’snotacryofpassion.
Instantly,Idropmyhands.“DidIhurtyou?”
“No.”Shequicklydrawsmebackagainsther.“Myboobsareextrasensitiveforsomereason.”
Irunmyhandsdownhersides.“ThenI’llbeextratendertonight.”Iallowhertotugmeinforanotherkissbeforebackingoff.Reachingdown,Iadjustmyself.“Givemeaminute,darlin’.Ididn’tplantoattackyoutheminuteIsawyou,but,hell,youknowyoudrivemecrazy.”
“Same.”Sheswipesapalmacrossherforehead,andherhandlooksmightyshakytome.
Iwonderifpartofit’sfromhunger.“Whydon’tyousitdown?”Igesturetowardthelittlecouchagainstthewall.
Sabrinanodsandwalksfartherintotheroom.Meanwhile,IpresstheheelofmyhandagainstmycockandordermyselftoactlikeI’vehadsexbefore.
“Howmuchdidthiscost?”Shecollapsesontheloveseatandlooksaroundindismay.
“It’snothing,”Iassureher.“TheguywhoownsthisjointisaBriaralum.Hegivesusaspecialrate.Don’ttelltheNCAA.”
“Isthatevenaviolation?”
“Don’tknow.I’moperatingunderthedon’task,don’ttellpolicy.”
“Gotcha.”Sheslipsoffhershoesandfoldshercoatoverthearmofthecouch,leavingherwearingonlyhertinyshortsandthebra.
God,she’sthehottestthingontheplanet.
“What’sthat?”sheasks,hergazelandingonthegift-wrappedboxsittingonthecenterofthebed.
“Yourpresent.”Ihadcheckedinearlierandlefthergiftintheroom.Reachingout,Iswipethepackageoffthebedspreadandjoinheronthesofa.“Happyholidays.”
Herfacelightsupasshetakestheboxfromme.Ileanbackandwatch.Ican’twaittoseeherfacewhensheopensit.
“Whatisthis?”sheaskswarily.“Itfeelsexpensive.”
Isnicker.“Youcantellwhetherit’sexpensiveornotbasedonhowmuchitweighs?”
“Ofcourse.Theheavieritis,themoreitcosts.”Shebitesherlip.“Ihopeyoudidn’tspendafortuneonme.”
“IpromiseyouIdidn’t.”I’mlying.It’sdefinitelymoremoneythanI’veeverspentonagirlbefore,butIcouldn’tresist.
OneofMom’sclientsmakescustomleathergoodsandsellsthemonline,andsheletmebuySabrina’sgiftatcostbecausetherewasaflawintheleather.Thedefectisontheinside,butapparentlyforthepricesshecharges,eventhatrequiresadiscount.Iwasthrilledtobuyit.Mymom?Notsomuch.ShefeltitwastooexpensivetobuyforagirlIbarelyknow,butthishadSabrinastampedalloverit.
Besideme,sheripsopenthepaperandthenliftsoffthelid.Whentherichsmellofleatherwaftsup,hermouthformsaperfectcircleofsurprise.
“Whatdidyouget?”sheasks,butit’snotaquestionI’mrequiredtoanswer.Herhandsripawaythetissuepapertorevealtheburnishedleatherandbrassbucklesofabriefcase.
“OhmyGod,thisissogorgeous!”
Idon’thavetoaskifshelovesit.It’sineverygaspandlovingcaressoftheleather.Ohyeah,nailedit.
“DidIdookay?”IsmileasIwatchherlifteveryflapandunzipeveryzipper.Sheexaminesit,flippingitoverandover.Sheevenstandsuptoposewithit.
“Youdidamazing.”Shefinallysetsthebagtothesideandlaunchesherselfatme.“Amazing,”sherepeats,punctuatingthatwordwithakiss.“Nowit’smyturntogiveyouapresent.”
Lickingherlips,sheproceedstomovedownmybodyandunzipmyjeans.
Mydickjumpsoutlikeit’sonaspring.Shecirclesmewithherhandandthengivesmethedirtiest,mostdevilishgrinbeforeswallowingmetothebackofherthroat.
Holyshit,that’sgood.Icupherheadassheblowsme,admiringthewayherassjutsintheairasshebendsforwardtotakemoreofmeinhermouth.Ireachoverandslidemyhandunderneaththesatinofhershortsuntilmyfingersmeethersoakedpussy.
Andsuddenlyhermouthonmycockisn’tenough.I’vegottobeinsideher.
Iliftherupandinthreestrideshaveherdownonthebed.Sheclawsatmyclothes.Itearathers.We’rehasty,somewhatuncoordinated,andfullofneed.
Igrabthecondomfrommyjeansandaminsideherinthenextbreath.She’scomingthreestrokeslater.
“It’sbeenawhile,”shegasps.
SweatbeadsonmyforeheadasIslowdown,tryingtoprolongthepleasureforaslongashumanlypossible.
Butasusual,Sabrinahasotherideas.
“Comeon,Tuck.Fuckmehard.”
ShedigshernailsintomyassandI’mgone.
Ihammerintoherhardenoughtodriveherfromonesideofthebedtotheother.ShecomesagainandIfinallyletgo.
Ilovethisgirl.Lovehertodeath.ThewordsareonthetipofmytongueandIbarelymanagetoswallowthemback.She’snotcertainofmeyet.Ineedtobidemytime,butaslongasI’minthegame,I’mnotworriedabouttheoutcome.
“Gonnatakecareofthecondom,”Imurmur,andshenodssleepily.
WhenIgetoutofthebathroom,she’stuckedunderthecovers,fastasleep.
Smiling,Icrawlinnexttoher,proppingmyselfuponanelbowtostareatherbeautifulface.Herthicklasheslayonhercheeks,andthere’sasatisfiedsmileonherlips.Totheoutsideworld,SabrinaJamesputsonagoodshowofbeingtoughandimpervioustoitall,butinreality,she’svulnerableandsweetandprecious.
Islideanarmunderherneck,andeveninslumbersheturnsintome,herlegstwiningwithmine.Wesleepwrappedupineachother.Twohalvesofabigger,betterwhole.
*
Thesoundofretchingwakesmeup.Someoneispukinghergutsoutinthebathroom.Iglanceattheclock—it’snotevensix.
Istumbleoutofthebed,nakedandnotquitefullyawakeyet.
Inthebathroom,IfindSabrinaonherknees,bentoverandheavingintothetoilet.
I’minstantlyalert.Igrabatowelofftherackandwrapitaroundhershoulders.“Whatdoyouneed?”Iaskinagentlevoice.
Sheshakesherheadwordlesslyandthenslumpsagainstmylegs.Ireachdowntosmoothherhairawayfromherhead,worryspikinginmyblood.WhatthefuckshouldIdo?
Withoutmovingher,Ireachbehindmeandfillaglasswithwater,thendropdownonmyhaunchesandofferhertheglass.
“Thanks.”Sheacceptstheglasswithatremblinghand.
Istrokeherbackasshetakesatimidsip.“Takeyourtime.”
Inmyhead,I’malreadydialingupdoctorsandwheelingherintotheemergencyroom,butI’vegottoframeitrightorIknowshe’llobject.BeforeIcanevenbroachthesubjectwithher,shelurchesforwardandthrowsupthewatershejustdrank.
Iwaituntilshesettlesdownagainbeforeliftingherintomyarmsandcarryingherbacktobed.“I’mtakingyoutoadoctor,”Iannounce.
“No.”Shegrabsmywrist,buthergripislimp.“I’llbefineinafewhours.Ijustoverdiditthisweek.”Tearsstainherface.“God,thatwasgross.I’msorry.”
“Fuck,baby,whocares?”IholdheragainstmychestasIclearthesheetsawayforher.
OnceIhavehertuckedin,Ileavetogetawashclothandanotherglassofwater.Onmywaybacktothebed,Isnagthetrashcanandplaceitonthefloornexttoher.
Ihatehowmiserableshelooks,andmynurturingsidekicksinasIlaythewashclothacrossherforehead.“You’vebeenthrowinguplikethiseverydayforhowlong?”
“Idon’tknow.Awhile.Icaughtabug.Nanahaditfirstandshe’sfinallygottenoverit.Ijustneedtowaititout.I’llfeelbetterinafewhours.”
“Yougotafever?ShouldIgetyousomeaspirin?”Ipressthebackofmyhandagainstherface.Itdoesn’tfeelflushed.
“Nofever,”shemumbles.“Justqueasyandtired.”
Analarmbellringsinmyhead.
Bitingtheinsideofmycheek,Irunthroughhersymptoms.Thesicknessinthemorning,taperingoffintheafternoons,thereallytenderbreasts,herfeelingsoffatigue.Nosignsoffever.Thefactthatshe’sneveroncehadherperiod,oratleastmentionedit,inthetwo-oddmonthswe’vebeenscrewing.
“Areyoupregnant?”Iblurtout.
Hereyelidssnapopen.“What?”
“Pregnant.”Itickoffhersymptomsoneachofmyfingers,endingwiththelackofperiod.
“No.I’mnot.Ijusthadmyperiod…”Shepausesandthinks.Herfacegoeswhite.“Closetothreemonthsago,”shewhispers.“But…I’vealwayshadlightperiods,evenonthepill.AndI’vebeenspottingthelastcoupleofmonths.Ithought…”
Igettomyfeetandhuntdownmyclothes.
“Whereareyougoing?”shewhimpers.
“Tobuyapregnancytest.”Orfive.Iswipeapackageofcrackersfromtheminibarandtossthemtowardher.“Trytoeat,okay?I’llberightback.”
She’sstillprotestingasIleavetheroom.
There’satwenty-four-hourpharmacyeightblocksaway.IsprinttowarditlikeI’mtryingtoqualifyfortheOlympics,unconcernedthatItotallyforgotmycoatatthehotel.
Insidethepharmacy,Ifindthreedifferenttests.Ibuythemall.
Theclerkgivesmeasympatheticlookandopenshismouthtosaysomethingstupid.Thedeathglareonmyfacehashimclampinghislipstogether.
WhenIgetback,Sabrinaissittingontheedgeofthebedeatingthecrackers.Ifeellikethetestsaresuperfluousatthispoint.Shecouldbeacommercialforpregnantchicks.
I’msurprisinglycalmasIopeneachbox.“Hereyougo.Threedifferentones.”
“We’vebeensafe,”shesays,hertonefarawayasifshe’stalkingtoherselfratherthanme.“I’monthepill.”
“Exceptthatfirsttime.”
Shegrimaces.“Itwasjustthetip.”
Aninvoluntarylaughcomesout.“Thenpeeingonthesticksonlygivesuspeaceofmind,right?”
Shefinisheshercrackerinsilence.Idon’tknowwhethertositbesideherorontheloveseat.Ioptforthecouchtogiveherspace.SometimesSabrinacanbehardtoread.Rightnow,Ihavezeroideawhat’sgoingthroughherhead.
Slowly,shegetsupandapproachesthesmallcardboardboxesstackedonthedeskasiftheycontainvenomoussnakes.Buteventuallyshegetsthere,gatherstheboxesinherarms,anddisappearsintothebathroom.
Idon’tstandatthedoorwithacupagainstthewall,eventhoughI’mtemptedasfucktodoit.Instead,Iturnonthetelevisionandwatchacoupleladiestrytosellmeavelourtracksuitinvarioustypesofanimalprint—only$69.99.
Iwatchthismind-numbingdisplayforteneternalminutesbeforethebathroomdooropens.Sabrina’sfaceisaboutthesameshadeofwhiteasthehotelrobeshe’swearing.
“Positive?”Iaskunnecessarily.
Sheholdsupanemptybox.“Youneedtogobuytenmoreofthese.”
Ipatthesofacushionnexttome.“I’mnotbuyinganymore.Comeandsitdown.”
Likeabelligerentchild,shestompsover.Thenshedropsdownnexttomeandcoversherfacewithherhands.“Ican’thaveababy,Tucker.Ican’t.”
Asickfeelingcurdlesinmystomach.It’saweirdmixofreliefanddisappointment.ThewordsIloveyou—theonesIwantedtosayearlierwhenIwasburiedinsideher—arestuckinmythroat.Ican’tsaythemnow.
“Youdowhateveryouneedto,”Iwhisperintoherhair.“I’vegotyou.”
It’sallIfeellikeIcansayatthispoint,andIknowit’snotenough.19
Tucker
IalwaysthoughtthatifIknockedsomeoneup,I’dbeabletotalktomyfriendsaboutit.ButI’veknownfornearlyaweekthatmygirlfriendispregnant,andIhaven’tsaidasinglewordtoanyone.
Actually,nooneevenknowsIhaveagirlfriend.
Forthatmatter,neitherdoI.
EversinceSabrinapeedonthreesticksandgotthreepositiveresults,she’sbeenavoidingseeingmeinperson.We’vetextedeveryday,butsheinsistsshe’stoobusytomeetupbecauseshewantstogetaleguponthenewsemester.I’vebeentryingtogiveherthespacesheclearlyneeds,butmypatienceisrunningthin.
Weneedtositdownanddiscussthis.Imean,we’retalkingaboutapossiblebaby.Ababy.Jesus.I’mfreakingouthere.I’mtheguywho’sunshakable,theguywhocantakeanylickin’andkickontickin’,buttheonlythingtickingrightnowismyheart—atdoubletime.
Idon’tknowhowthehelltohandlethis.Sabrinasaidshecouldn’thaveakid,andIplantosupportwhatevershedecides,butIwanthertoincludeme,damnit.Itripsmeaparttothinkofhergoingthroughthisalone.
Sheneedsme.
“Youmakingsomethingtoeatorjuststaringatthestoveforfunsies?”
Garrett’svoicedrawsmeoutofmymisery.MyroommatestrollsintothekitchenwithLoganonhistail.Bothguysmakeabeelineforthefridge.
“Seriously,”Logangripesashepeersintotherefrigerator.“Feedus,Tuck.There’snothingediblehere.”
Yeah,Ihaven’tshoppedforgroceriesallweek.Andwhenyouliveinahousefullofhockeyplayers,skippingoutontheshoppingisbadnews.
IstareattheemptypotI’dplacedontheburner.Ididn’thaveamenuinmindwhenIwanderedintothekitchen,andwiththesadassortmentofingredientswehaveonhand,there’snotmuchIcanworkwith.
“IguessI’llmakesomepasta,”Isayglumly.Carbsatthishourisn’tthesmartestidea,butbeggarscan’tbechoosers.
“Thanks,Mom.”
Icringeatthatword.Mom.HemightaswellhavesaidDad.Asin,Imightbeafuckingdad.
Idrawacalmingbreathandfillthepotwithwater.
Loganbeamsatme.“Don’tforgettoputonyourapron.”
Igivehimthefingeronmywaytothepantry.“Oneofyoulazyassesmakeyourselfusefulandchopsomeonions,”Imutter.
“Onit,”Garrettsays.
Loganflopsdownatthekitchentableandwatchesuslikeajerkaswepreparealatedinner.“Makeenoughforfive,”hetellsus.“Dean’sworkingone-on-onewithHuntertonight.Thekidmightcomebackherewithhim.”
Garrettglancesatmeinamusement.“Naah,Ithinkwe’llonlymakeenoughforfour—right,Tuck?IfHunter’shere,hecantakeLogan’sspot.”
“Awesomeidea.”
Ourroommaterollshiseyes.“I’lltellCoachyou’retryingtostarveme.”
“Youdothat,”Garrettsaysgraciously.
Isetthepotontheburner.WhileIwaitforthewatertoboil,Iscroungearoundinthecrisperforanythinggreen.Ifindonepepperandtwocarrots.Whatever.Mightaswellchop’emandthrow’eminthesauce.
Wechataboutnothinginparticularaswepreparedinner.Orrather,theychat.I’mtoobusyinternallyfreakingoutaboutSabrina.Iguessthat’satestamenttomyactingskills,becausemyroommatesdon’tseemtonoticethatanythingisoutoftheordinary.
I’mabouttodumptwopackagesofpenneintheboilingwaterwhenGarrett’sphonerings.
“It’sCoach,”hesays,soundingslightlyconfused.
IsetthepastaonthecounterinsteadofinthepotandwatchasGarretttakesthecall.Idon’tknowwhy,butthere’sanervousfeelingcrawlingupmyspine.CoachJensendoesn’tusuallyphoneusoff-hoursfornoreason.Garrett’steamcaptain,butit’snotlikehe’sgettingnightlycallsfromtheman.
“Hey,Coach.What’sup?”Garrettlistensforamoment.Hisdarkeyebrowsknit,andthenhespeaksagain.Warily.“Idon’tunderstand.WhydidPataskyoutocallme?”
Helistensagain.Formuchlonger,thistime.
WhateverCoachJensenistellinghim,it’sturningGarrett’scomplexiontopaste.Bythetimehehangsup,he’saswhiteasthewalls.
“What’swrong?”Logandemands.Hedoesn’tmissGarrett’schangeindemeanoreither.
Garrettshakeshishead,lookingstunned.“BeauMaxwelldied.”
What?
Loganfreezes.
IdropthespatulaI’mholding.Itclatterstothefloor,andinthesilenceofthekitchen,itsoundslikeanexplosionfromawarfilm.Weallflinchatthenoise.
Idon’tpickupthespatula.IjuststareatGarrett,stupidlyasking,“What?”
“BeauMaxwelldied.”Hecontinuestoshakehishead,overandoveragain,asifhecan’tmakesenseofthewordscomingoutofhisownmouth.
“Whatdoyoumean,hedied?”Logangrowlsinoutrage.“Isthissomekindofsickjoke?”
Ourteamcaptainbracesbothhandsonthecounter.He’sactuallyshaking.Idon’tthinkI’veeverseenGarrettlosehiscoollikethis.
“CoachjustgotoffthephonewithPatDeluca.Beau’scoach.PatsaidBeaudied.”
Withoutaword,Iturnoffthestoveandstumbleovertothekitchentable.IsinkintothefirstchairIcollideintoandrubmyfistsovermyforehead.Thisisn’thappening.
“How?”Logansnaps.“When?”
Hesoundsangry,butIcantellit’sallshock.LoganandBeauareclose.NotascloseasDeanandBeau,but—ohJesus.Dean.SomeoneneedstotellDean.
“Lastnight.”Garrett’svoiceisbarelyaboveawhisper.“Caraccident.HewasinWisconsinforhisgrandmother’sbirthday.Coachsaidtheroadswereicy.Beau’sdadwasdrivingthecarandheswervedtoavoidhittingadeer.Thecarflippedoverandflewofftheroadand…”Hiswordsarechokednow.“Beaubrokehisneckanddied.”
OhsweetJesus.
Horrorswirlsinmygutlikepoison.Acrossfromme,Loganisblinkingbacktears.We’realljustsittingthere.Silent.Shocked.I’venever…hadafriendwhodiedbefore.Norelatives,either.MydadpassedawaywhenIwastooyoungtoreallygrieveforhim.Thatwasacaraccidenttoo.God.Whythefuckdowedrivecars?
Inthebackofmymind,there’sanaggingthoughtthatIshouldbedoingsomething.Iswipeahandovermystingingeyesandforcemyselftofocus.
Sabrina
Fuck,that’swhatIneedtodo.IneedtocallSabrinaandtellherthenews.SheusedtodateBeau.Shecaresabouthim.
BeforeIcanmovefrommychair,thefrontdoorcreaksopen.Thethreeofustenseup.
Dean’shome.
“Fuck,”Loganwhispers.
“I’lltellhim,”Garrettsayshoarsely.
Dean’sblondheadisloweredashewandersintothekitchen.He’sengrossedwithhisphone,hisfingerstappingoutatextmessage,probablytoAllie.Hedoesn’tnoticeusatfirst,butevenwhenhedoes,Idon’tthinkhe’sregisteringourexpressions.
“What’sup?”heasksinanabsentmindedtone.
Whennoneofussayaword,Deanfrownsandputsthephoneaway.HisgazelandsonLogan,andhestiffenswhenheseesourfriend’stears.
“What’sgoingon?”hedemands.
Loganwipeshiseyes.
Ipressmylipstogether.
“Seriously,ifsomeonedoesn’ttellmewhat’sgoingonrightthisfuckingsecond—”
“Coachcalled,”Garrettinterruptsinalowvoice.“HejustgotoffthephonewithPatrickDeluca,and,uh…”
Deanlooksconfused.
Garrettkeepstalking,thoughIwishhewouldn’t.Iwishwedidn’thavetotellDeanaboutBeau.Iwishwedidn’tevenknowaboutBeau.
Iwish…lotsofthings.Butrightnow,wishesmeanshit.
“IguessDelucacalledhimbecauseheknowswe’refriendswithBeau—”
“ThisisaboutMaxwell?Whatabouthim?”
LoganandIbothstareatourhands.
Garretthasmorecouragethanus,becausehedoesn’tshyawayfromDean’sanxiousgaze.“He…ah…died.”
Justlikethat,Deanfallsintoatrance.It’spainfultowatch,andIhavenoideahowtodrawhimoutofit.GarrettrepeatswhathetoldLoganandme,butit’sobviousourteammateisn’tlistening.Dean’sgreeneyesareglazed,hismouthpartedslightlyashesucksinunevenbreaths.
It’sonlywhenGarrettsaysthatBeaudiedonimpactthatDeanblinkshimselfbacktoreality.“Canyoutellittomeagain?”hecroaks.“Whathappened,Imean.”
“Goddamnit,why?”
“BecauseIneedtohearitagain.”Deanisadamant.
Wewatchashemarchestothecupboardsandgrabsabottleofwhiskeyfromthetopone.Hetakesadeepswigrightoutofthebottlebeforestaggeringovertositbesideme.
Garrettstartstalkingagain.Christ.Idon’tknowifIcanhearthisawfulstoryagain.DeanpassesmethewhiskeyandItakeasmallsipbeforepassingittoLogan.Ican’tgetwastedrightnow.Iplanondrivingtonight.
OnceGarrettisfinished,Deanpusheshischairbackandstandsup.HeclutchestheJackDaniel’sbottleinbothhandslikeit’sasecurityblanket.“Goingupstairs,”hemumbles.
“Dean—”Istart,butourteammateisalreadygone.
Wehearfootstepsclimbingthestairs.Athump.Adoorclickingshut.
Silencefallsoverthekitchen.
“Ihavetoleave,”ImuttertoGarrettandLogan,unsteadilyrisingtomyfeet.
NeitherofthemaskmewhereI’mgoing.
*
Sabrina
IstareatTucker,unabletocomprehendwhathe’ssaying.WhenhetextedtosayhewascomingtoBostontoseemetonight,Iexpectedaseriousdiscussionaboutourunplannedpregnancy.Ipanicked,toldhimIwasstudying,andheallbutsaidtoughshit.Ithinkhisexactmessagewas:I’mcoming.We’retalking
TheentirehourIwaswaitingforhim,Igavemyselfpeptalkafterpeptalk.Iorderedmyselftoputonmybig-girlpantsanddealwiththispregnancythewayIdealwitheverythingelseinmylife—headon.IremindedmyselfthatTuckhadsaidI’vegotyou,thathe’dsupportwhateverIchosetodo.
Butnoneofthathadsucceededinriddingmeofthefearclingingtomythroat.
Nowthefearisevenworse,forawholeotherreason.
“Beauisdead?”Myheartpoundsdangerouslyfast.I’mscaredit’sgoingtogiveoutonme.
I’mscaredofthegriefIseeinTucker’seyes.
“Yes.He’sgone,darlin’.”
Ican’tunderstandit.Ican’t.BeauisBriar’sstartingquarterback.Beauismyfriend.Beau’sdimplesalwayspopoutwhenhe’sflashingyouaparticularlynaughtygrin.Beauis…
Dead.
Acaraccident,apparently.HisfathersurvivedbutBeaudied.
ThetearsI’vebeenfightingspilloverandstreamdownmycheeksinsaltyrivulets.Itrytobreathebetweensobs,butit’shard,andeventuallyI’mhyperventilating.That’swhenTuckerwrapsmeupinawarm,tightembrace.
“Breathe,”hewhispersintomyhair.
Itry,Ireallydo,buttheoxygenisn’tgettingin.
“Breathe.”Firmerthistime,andhishandsaremovingupanddownmybackincomfortingsweeps.
Imanagetotakeabreath,andthenanother,andanother,untilI’mnotfeelingquitesodizzy.Thetearsarestillfalling,though.Andmychestfeelslikesomeonesliceditopenandispokingitwithahotblade.
“He’s…”Igulp.“…was.Hewassuchagoodguy,Tuck.”
“Iknow.”
“Hewasgoodandyoungandheshouldn’tbedead,”Isayfiercely.
“Iknow.”
“It’snotfair.”
“Iknow.”
Tuckerholdsmetighter.Iburrowagainsthimuntilthere’snowherelefttogo.Hisstrong,solidbodyistheanchorIneedrightnow.Itallowsmetocryandcurseandrailattheworld,becauseIknowTuckishere,listeningtomeandsteadyingmeandremindingmetobreathe.
Aloudknockcausesbothofustojump.
“Keepitdowninthere,”comesRay’shorriblevoice.“‘ThehellamIs’posedtowatchthegameifIcanhearyoubawlingallthewayfromthelivingroom?Youontheragorsomethin’?”
Astrangledsobfliesoutofmymouth.OhGod.NothinglikeaninterruptionfromRaytohighlightwhatanemotionalmessIam—anemotionalmesswhoisn’thavingherperiod.Becauseshe’sgoddamnpregnant.
Mybreathinggrowsshallowagain.
Tuckerkeepsstrokingmybackasheanswersmystepfather.“Ifyoucan’theartheTV,turnupthevolume,”hecallstightly.
There’sabeat,then,“Isthatyou,jockboy?Didn’trealizeRinahadcompany.”
“Wewalkedrightpasthimwhenyouletmein,”Tuckermutterstome.
Yeah,wehad.ButRay’sdrunkerthanusualtonight.Hespentthewholedayatasportsbarwithhisbuddies,gettingloadedwhiletheywatchedtheafternoonfootballgames.
“Hecouldbarelywalkinastraightlinewhenhegothomethisevening,”Imutterback.
Raypipesupagain,slurringlikecrazy.“Mus’notbetoogoodinthesackifyou’remakingthebitchcry!”
IgrabTucker’sarmbeforehecanstandup.“Ignorehim,”Iwhisper.ThenIraisemyvoiceandaddressRay.“Gowatchyourgame.We’llkeepitdown.”
Afteranotherbeat,hisfootstepsthumpaway.
TearsstainmyfaceasInestleagainstTuckeragain.“W-willyou…”Iclearmyachingthroat.“Willyoustaywithmetonight?”
“Notevenaquestion,”hemurmursbeforedroppingasoftkissonmyforehead.“I’mhereforaslongasyouneedme,baby.”20
Tucker
Thestadiumisaseaofblackandsilver.Thousandsofpeopleareinattendance,andagoodnumberofthemwearBriarfootballjerseysbeneaththeirunzippedcoats.Thosewhoaren’tweartheschoolcolors.
Onthefield,alargestagehasbeenraised,whereBeau’steammatesandfamilysit.Alumniflewinfromalloverthecountrytohonorourfallenquarterback.Kidswhodidn’tevenknowBeauarehere.Facesaresomberandthemoodissubdued.
It’sfuckingawful.
I’msittinginthebleachersbehindthehomebench,withGarrettonmyleft.Hannah’sbesidehim,thenLoganandGrace,thenAllie—who’salone.
Deanhasbeenatotalmessthisweek.He’sinadestructivespiral,skippingpracticesandlockinghimselfinhisroom,drunkoutofhismindmostofthetime.Theothernighthegotsohighthathepassedoutonthelivingroomcouch,halfhisbodyonthecushions,theothersprawledonthefloor.LogancarriedhimupstairswhileAllietrailedafterthem,neartears.
IkeepwantingtoreassureAlliethatDeanwillgetthroughthis,buthonestly,mymindhasbeenallovertheplacethisweek.
Thereasonformyanguishissittingonmyotherside.Idon’tthinkGarrettandtheothersevenrealizeSabrina’shere—theirgazesarefixedonthefield,whereahugeprojectionscreenisshowinghighlightsfromBeau’sfouryearsatBriarUniversity.Actually,makethatfiveyears.Beauredshirtedhisfreshmanyear,sothisistechnicallyhisfifthyear.Washisfifthyear.Lord,it’shardtorememberthathe’sactuallygone.
It’scoldout,sothesleeveofmybulkycoatkindofdisguisesthatI’mclutchingSabrina’shand.Iwanttoputmyarmaroundher,kisshercheek,holdherclose,butIdon’tthinkBeau’smemorialisthetimetobeannouncingourrelationshiptotheworld.It’ssurrealtome,though,thatthegirlnexttomeispregnantwithmychildandnobodyhasaclue.
Wehaven’tspokenaboutthebabyatall.Idon’tknowifSabrinaisplanningonschedulingaprocedure.Hell,forallIknowshe’salreadygonethroughwithit.I’dliketothinkthatshe’dincludemeifandwhenthetimecomes,butshe’sbeensodistantthisweek.Beau’sdeathhitherhard.Andwitnessingwhatit’sdonetoDeanmakesmeevenmorehesitanttopushSabrinatotalk,notwhenshe’sdealingwiththelossofafriend.
Aquietsobsoundsfromafewseatsover.It’sHannah.ThechokednoisealertsmetothefactthattheslideshowofBeau’slifehasended.HisoldersisterJoannaisrisingfromherseat.
Itenseup,becauseIknowthingsareabouttogetevenmoreheartbreaking.
Joanna’sabeautifulwoman,withachin-lengthdarkbobandblueeyeslikeBeau’s.Thoseeyesaresolifelessrightnow.Herfaceishaunted.Soarethefacesofherparents.
Inhersimpleblackdress,shesinksontothebenchofablackgrandpianoontheothersideofthestage.Iwaswonderingaboutthepiano,andnowIhavemyanswer.JoannaMaxwellwasamusicmajorwhenshewenttoBriar,landingajobonBroadwayrightaftergraduation.Hannahsaysshe’sanincrediblesinger.
Iwinceasmicrophonefeedbackscreechesthroughthestadium.
“Sorry,”Joannamurmurs,thenadjuststhemicandleanscloser.“Idon’tthinkmanyofyouknowthis,butmybrotherwasactuallyaprettygoodsinger.Hewouldn’tdaretosinginpublic,though.Hehadhisbadboyreputationtomaintain,afterall.”
Laughterripplesthroughthebleachers.It’seeriecombinedwiththewaveofgriefhangingoverus.
“Anyway,Beauwasabigmusicbuff.Whenwewerelittle,wewouldsneakintoourdad’sdenandmessaroundwithhisrecordplayer.”Shesheepishlyglancesatherfather.“Sorryyou’rejustfindingthatoutnow,Daddy.ButIswearwedidn’tbreakintotheliquorcabinet.”Shepauses.“Atleastnotuntilwewereolder.”
Mr.Maxwellshakeshisheadruefully.Anotherwaveoflaughterwashesthroughthestands.
“WelovedlisteningtotheBeatles.”Sheadjuststhemicagainandpoisesherfingersovertheivorykeys.“ThiswasBeau’sfavoritesong,so—”Hervoicecracks.“—IthoughtIwouldsingitforhimtoday.”
Myheartachesasthefirststrainsof“LetItBe”fillthestadium.Sabrinaclutchesmyhandtighter.Herfingersarelikeice.Isqueezethem,hopingtowarmherup,butIknowmineareequallycold.
BythetimeJoannafinishessinging,thereisn’tadryeyeinthebleachers.I’mrapidlyblinkingbacktears,buteventuallyIgiveupandletthemstreamdownmycheekswithoutwipingthemaway.
Afterward,Joannagracefullyrisesfromthepianobenchandrejoinsherparents.Thencomethespeeches,andthetearsonlyfallharder.CoachDelucagetsbehindthepodiumandtalksaboutwhatatalentedplayerBeauwas,hisdedication,hisstrengthofcharacter.Afewofhisteammatesspeak,makinguslaughagainwithstoriesaboutBeau’sshenanigansinthelockerroom.Beau’smomthankseverybodyforcoming,forsupportingherson,forlovinghim.
Ifeelravagedwhenthememorialfinallyreachesitsconclusion.
Sorrowthickenstheairaspeopleshuffleoutoftheirseatsandmaketheirwaydowntheaisles.Sabrinareleasesmyhandandwalksaheadofme.HopeandCarinsandwichherbetweenthemliketwomotherhens,eachonewrappinganarmaroundhershouldersasthetriodescendsthesteps.
Onthelanding,Icomeupbehindherandleanintomurmurinherear.“WantmetocometoBostontonight?”
Shegivesaslightshakeofherhead,anddisappointmentandfrustrationfloodmystomach.Shemustseeitinmyeyes,becauseshebitesherlipandwhispers,“We’lltalksoon,okay?”
“Okay,”Iwhisperback.
Withmyheartinmythroat,Iwatchherwalkaway.
“Whatwasthatabout?”Garrettappearsbesideme,focusingonSabrina’sretreatingback.
“Justofferingmycondolences,”Ilie.“That’sSabrinaJames—sheusedtodateBeau.”
“Oh.”Hefrowns.“Dean’sSabrina?”
MySabrina
Ichokedownanotherrushoffrustrationandofferacarelessshrug.“Iguess.”
I’msickofthis.Sofuckingsickofit.IwanttotellmyfriendsaboutSabrina.Iwanttotellthemaboutthebabyandgettheiradvice,butshemademepromisenottosayaworduntilwe’dmadeadecision.Thenagain,ifthatdecisionresultsinnobaby,there’dbenopointintellingthemanyway.WhatwouldIevensay?Iknockedsomeoneup,butshehadanabortion,sothere’snothingtotalkabout?
Iswallowthroughmysuddenlydrymouth.IhavenoideahowIgottothisplace.MyfriendsteasemeaboutbeingaBoyScout,andtruthfullyIthoughtIhadthe“beprepared”thingdownpat.ButonecarelessmistakeandnowImightbeafather.I’mtwenty-two,forfuck’ssake.
Idon’tknowifIcandothis.
Panicbubblesinmythroat.I’mapatientguy.Rocksolid.Goodheadonmyshoulders.Iwanttohaveafamilysomeday.Iwantkidsandawifeandadogandagoddamnpicketfence.Iwantallthat—someday
Nottoday.Notninemonthsfromnow.Not—
Youmightnothaveachoice
Christ.
“C’mon,”Garrettsays,gentlynudgingmeforward.“We’reallgoingbacktothehouse.”
Swallowingmypanic,Iletmyfriendsherdmeoutofthestadiumandintotheparkinglot.IrodetocampuswithGarrettandHannah,soIclimbintothebackseatofGarrett’sJeep.Allieslidesinbesideme.Thefourofusdon’tsayasinglewordduringthedrivehome.
Themomentwewalkthroughthefrontdoor,AlliehurriesupstairstoDean’sroom.Istillcan’tbelieveheskippedoutonBeau’smemorial,butIgetthefeelingDeanhasn’texperiencedmuchlossinhislife.Idon’tthinkheknowshowtohandleit,andIfindmyselfprayingthatAlliecangetthroughtohim.
Therestofusditchourcoatsandbootsandtraipseintothelivingroom.HannahandGracemakesomecoffee,andwesitinsilenceforawhile.It’slikeweallhavePTSDorsomething.We’velostafriendandcan’tmakesenseofit.
Eventually,Garrettloosenshistieandthentugsitoff,droppingitonthearmofthecouch.Withawearysigh,hesays,“Graduationisinafewmonths.”
Everyonenods,thoughI’mnotsureifit’sinagreementorjustaformofacknowledgment.
Heglancesaroundthelivingroom,hisexpressiongoingsad.“I’mgoingtomissthishouse.”
Yeah,metoo.AndIstillhavenoideawhereI’llbeinMay.TheplanwastomovebacktoTexas,butthere’snowayIcandothatwhenthere’ssomuchuncertaintybetweenmeandSabrina.Granted,byMayI’llalreadyhaveanansweraboutthebaby.Ilookedituponline,soIknowthatifSabrinachoosestohaveanabortion,herwindowwillendinearlyMarch.
Iswallowastrangledgroan.God.IhatenotknowingwhereIstand.Wherewestand.
“I’mexcitedtogoapartmenthunting,”Hannahsays,butdespiteherwords,thereisn’tatraceofexcitementinhervoice.
“We’llfindsomethinggreat,”Garrettassuresher.
SheglancesatGrace.“YouguysarestilllookingforsomethinghalfwaybetweenHastingsandProvidence?”
GracenodsandsnugglesclosertoLogan,who’stenderlyrunninghisfingersthroughherlonghair.
Envyripplesthroughme.Theyhavenoideahowluckytheyarethattheycanactuallymakeplansfortheirfutures.Garrett’sagentisinnegotiationswiththeBruins,whichmeansGarrettandWellsywillbelivinginBostononcehesignswiththeteam.GracestillhastwomoreyearsatBriar,butLogan’salreadysignedwiththeBruins’farmteam,sohe’llbeplayinginProvidenceuntilhe’shopefullycalleduptothepros.
Andme?Whothefuckknows.
“AreyouheadingbacktoTexasrightaftergraduationorstickingaroundforthesummer?”
Logan’squestionbringsaknotofdiscomforttomychest.“I’mnotsureyet.Italldependsonwhatkindofbusinessopportunitiesthereare.”
No,italldependsonwhethermygirlfriendisgoingtohavemybaby.
Buttheotherthingistruetoo,Iguess.
“Istillthinkyoushouldopenarestaurant,”Hannahteases.“YoucouldcomeupwithfunTucker-relatednamesforallyourdishes.”
Ishrug.“Naah.Idon’twanttobeachef.AndIdon’twantthestressofowningsuchahigh-pressurebusiness.Restaurantsareconstantlyclosingdown—it’stoobigofarisk.”
Iplanonbeingcarefulwithmydad’sinsurancemoney.I’vebeensavingitforyearsandI’mnotsureIwanttogambleitallonarestaurant.Butit’snotlikeIhaveanyotherideas,either.
I’dbettercomeupwithsomething,though—andfast.Graduationislooming.Reallifeisbeckoning.Mygirlispregnant.Amilliondecisionsneedtobemade,butatthemoment,I’minlimbo.
Ican’tmakeasingledecision.NotuntilSabrinamakesthemostimportantoneofall.21
Sabrina
February
There’sabitterchillintheairasIwalkdownthesnow-linedpathinBostonCommon.Myglovedhandsareburiedinthepocketsofmycoat,andmyredknithatispulledsolowonmyforeheaditnearlycoversmyeyes.
It’ssocoldouttoday.IsuddenlyregretsuggestingthatTuckerandImeetinthepark.Hewantedtomeetatmyhouse,butbothNanaandRayarehome,andIcouldn’triskthemeavesdroppingonusandfindingoutaboutthepregnancy.Ihaven’ttoldthemyet.Ihaven’ttoldanyone.
IassumeTuckerisgoingtobringupthebabyfromthewordgo,butwhenIreachBrewerFountainfiveminuteslater,thefirstthinghesaystomeis,“Ihatefountains.”
“Um.Allright.Anyparticularreasonwhy?”
“Theydon’thavemuchofapurpose.”Thenhetugsmeintohisarmsforalonghug,andIfindmyselfsaggingagainsthim,clingingtohiswarm,solidbody
Ihaven’tseenhimsinceBeau’smemorial.Thatwastwoweeksago.Twoweeks.Iswear,JohnTuckerhasthekindofpatienceIcanonlydreamofhaving.Hehasn’tbuggedmetomeetup.Hasn’tpushedmetotalkaboutoursituation.Hasn’tdoneanythingbutstandbyandfollowmylead.
“Butthey’repretty,”Imurmurinresponsetohisremark.
Hislipsbrushmineinabriefkiss.“Notasprettyasyou.”AndthenhehugsmetighterandItryhardnottoburstintotears.
I’mahormonalmesslately.Constantlyonthevergeofsobbing,andIdon’tknowifit’sthepregnancyorbecauseImissTuck.
Imisshimsofuckingmuchitbreaksmyheart,butIdon’tknowwhattosaywhenI’mwithhim.
Idon’tfuckingknowwhattodo.
Thehugfinallybreaksup,andwebothstepbackawkwardly.Adozenquestionsflickerinhisexpression,buthedoesn’tvoiceasingleone.Instead,hesays,“Let’swalk.Ifwestayonthemove,maybewewon’tfreezetodeath.”
Laughingagain,Iallowhimtoslinghisarmaroundme,andwetakeoffdownthepath,ourbootscrunchingoverthethinlayerofsnowbeneaththem.
“Howareclassesgoing?”heasksgruffly.
“Okay,Iguess.”I’mlying.It’snotokayatall.I’mfindingitimpossibletoconcentrateonanythingotherthanthesubtlechangesinmybody.“You?”
Heshrugs.“Notgreat.It’sbeentoughtofocuseversince…”Hetrailsoff.
“Eversincethis?”Igesturetomystomach.
“Yeah.AndBeautoo.Dean’snotdoingtoogreat,andthere’slotsoftensioninthehouse.”
“I’msorry.”
“It’llgetbetter,”isallhesays.
God,IwishIhadhisfaith.Andhisresilience.Andhiscourage.I’mlackingallthosethingsrightnow.Justthethoughtofopeningmymouthandbringingupthepinkorbluebabyelephantinourvicinitymakesmewanttothrowup.Ormaybethat’sthemorningsickness.
Butasusual,Tuckerdoesn’tpushthesubject.Hesimplychangesit.“Didyoucomeherealotwhenyouweregrowingup?”Hegesturesatthebeautifuldisplayofnatureallaroundus.
“WhenIwaslittle,”Iadmit.“BackwhenitwasjustmeandmymomandNana,we’dcomehereeveryweekend.IlearnedhowtoskateonFrogPond.”
Hegivesmeasidelonglook.“Youdon’ttalkaboutyourmommuch.”
“There’snothingtotalkabout.”Resentmentcrawlsupmythroat.“Shewasn’taroundmuch.Imean,sheusedtomakeaneffortwhenIwasreallyyoung,upuntilIwassix,maybe.Butthenthemeninherlifebecamemoreimportantthanme.”
Tucker’sglovedhandsqueezesmyshoulder.“I’msorry,darlin’.”
“Itiswhatitis.”Iglanceoverathim.“You’reclosewithyourmother,right?”
Henods.“She’sthebestwomanIknow.”
Emotionclogsmythroat.Tuckermight’velosthisdadatayoungage,butobviouslyhismotherdideverythingshecouldtomakeupforthat.Fromwhathe’stoldme,sheworkedherbuttoffsohersoncouldhaveagoodlife.MyownmothercouldtakeafewlessonsfromMrs.Tucker.SocouldNana.
“Ourchildhoodsweresodifferent,”Ifindmyselfsaying.
“Andyetwebothgrewuptobeawesomepeople.”
Him,maybe.Me,Idon’tfeelsoawesomerightnow.ButIkeepthethoughttomyself.“DoesyourmomwantyoutomovebacktoTexasaftercollege?”
“Yeah.”Hestopsinthemiddleofthepath,releasingatired-soundingbreath.
“Doyouwanttomoveback?”Iask,thenholdmybreathasIwaitforhisreply.
“Idon’tknow.”
Herakesahandthroughhisauburnhair,andItrackthemotionofhishand.Hishairlookssosofttothetouch.Itissofttothetouch—IknowthisbecauseI’verunmyfingersthroughitonmanyoccasions.Iwanttodoitagainnow,butI’mscaredthatifItouchhim,Iwon’tbeabletostop.
“Myplanwasalwaystogobackaftergraduation.Iwanttobeclosetomymom,takecareofher,youknow?ButwhenIwastherefortheholidays…”Hegroanssoftly.“TherearenoopportunitiesinPatterson.None.It’satinytownthathasn’tgrownatallinahundredyears.AndIwouldn’tevenbeabletocommutetoDallasbecauseit’safour-hourdrive.IoriginallythoughtI’dliveinDallasduringtheweekandstayinPattersonontheweekends,butthatsoundsexhaustingthemoreIthinkaboutit.”
“Sowhatareyougoingtodo?”
“Ihavenoclue.”
Iwaitforhimtoturnitaroundonme,askmewhatI’mgoingtodoaboutthisbaby,buthedoesn’t.
“Youwanttogowatchtheskatersforabit?”hesuggests.
“Sure.”
Westartwalkingagain.Hisarmisstillaroundme.Hisfamiliarscentwaftsintomynostrilsandmakesmeache.Iwanttokisshim.No,Iwanttodraghimbacktowhereverheparkedhistruckandmaulhim.Iwanttofeelhislipsonmineandhishandsonmybreastsandhiscockmovinginsideme.
Thehappysquealsofchildrengreetusbeforeweevenreachthepond.Abittersweetfeelingwashesovermeasweapproachtherailing.Dozensofpeoplewhizpastusontheshinysurfaceoftherink.Kidsbundledupincolorfulcoatsandscarvesandmittens.Familiesskatingtogether.Couplesglidinghand-in-hand.
Tuckerreachesformyhandandlacesourglovedfingerstogether,andwestandtherewatchingtherinkforawhile.Myheartskips,becauseitfeelslikewe’rearealcouple.Justtwohappypeoplespendingtheafternooninthepark,enjoyingeachother’scompany.
“Ohshit,seethatmanoverthere?”Tuckersuddenlysays.
Ifollowhisgazetowardatall,gray-hairedmaninablueparkaandblackskates.“Yeah…Doyouknowhim?”
Hesquints.“No.ForasecondIthoughtIdid,buthe’sjustalookalike.”
“Forwho?”Iaskcuriously.
“CoachDeath.”
Ialmostchokeonmytongue.“Okay.Let’sbackthisup.DidyoujustsayCoachDeath?”
Hisboomoflaughterticklesthesideofmyface.“Yep.Notevenjoking,darlin’.MyveryfirsthockeycoachwasnamedPaulDeath.Apparentlyit’sanoldBritishname.OrmaybeWelsh?Ican’tremembernow.”
Ishiftaroundsomybackistotherailing.“Washeasevilashisnamesuggests?”
“Nicestdudeyou’llevermeet,”Tuckerdeclares.
“Seriously?”
“Ohyeah.He’sthefirstpersonwhotoldmeIhadpotential.Iwasfiveatthetime.Beggedmymomforhockeylessons,soshedrovemetothisarenaanhourawaybecausePattersondoesn’thavearink.CoachDeathpoppedasquat,shookmyhand,andsaid,‘Yup-yup,Iseeit,kid.You’vegotpotential.’”Tuckerchuckles.“Thatwashiscatchphrase—yup-yup.IstartedsayingitaroundthehouseanditdroveMomcrazy.”
Ilaugh.“SoCoachDeathwasyouridolgrowingup?”
“Prettymuch.”Heslantshishead.“Whataboutyou?Whowasyouridol?”
“Ihadfive.”Igrinathim.“TheywerecalledNSYNC.”
Hisjawdrops.“Ohno,darlin’,sayitain’tso.Youwereintoboybands?”
“Sointothemit’snotevenfunny.NanatookmetoanNSYNCconcertwhenIwastwelve.IswearIhadmyfirstorgasmthatnight.”
Hethrowshisheadbackandhoots.
“Itoldyou,it’snotfunny,”Igrumble.“Iwasobsessed.IusedtodoodleSabrinaTimberlakeinallmyschoolnotebooks.”
“Ihonestlycan’tpicturethat.”
“Whynot?”
“Becauseyou’resoseriousallthetime.WhenIpictureyouasakid,IseeyoureadingtextbooksforfunandstudyingfortheSATsfouryearsinadvance.”
Awrysmiletugsonmymouth.“Yeah,Ididallthattoo.ButIalwaysmadetimeforJustin.I’dtakestudybreaksandkisshispicture.Withtongue.”
Tuckerhoots.“Jesus,Sabrina.Idon’tknowifIcanbewithyouanymore.”
Justlikethat,mygoodhumorfades.Notbecauseofwhathesaid—Iknowhe’sjoking—butbecause…Becauseofthepinkorblueelephant,damnit.
TuckerandIhadonlybeendatingforafewmonthsbeforethisbabybomb.Wouldwehaveevenhadafuture?Ilovebeingwithhim.It’seasybeingwithhim,easierthanit’severbeenwithanyone.Iwasstartingtoseeafutureforus,butwhatabouthim?Whatifhe’dgottensickofmeandwantedtodumpme?
Ifwekeepthisbaby,thenthefutureisset.We’llbeapartofeachother’slives,whetherwewanttoornot.Whetherhewantsitornot.
“What’swrong?”heasksinconcern.
Igulpthroughthelumpinmythroat.“I…”Myfacecrumples.“Ihaven’tmadeadecisionyet.”
Hisvoiceturnshoarse.“Iknow.”
“I’m…scared.”Istaredownatmyboots.“I’mreallyscared,Tuck.”
“Iknow,”hesaysagain.Thenherubshisface.“SoamI.”
Mygazefliestohis.“Youare?”
“Areyoukiddingme?I’mgoddamnterrified.”Agroanslipsout.“I’mtryingtobestrongforyouhere,Sabrina.I’mreallyfuckingtrying.”
Iblinkbacktears.“I’musuallythestrongone.ButrightnowIdon’tfeelstrongatall.”
Hedrawsmeintohisarmsandsuddenlywe’reclingingtoeachotheragain.I’mprettysureeveryoneontheiceisstaringatus,wonderingwhywe’repower-hugginglikeacoupleofmaniacs,butIdon’tcare.I’monemotionaloverload,andmaybethat’swhatdrivesmetosay,“Idon’tthinkIwanttokeepit.”
Tuckereasesbackslightly.Hisexpressionissomber.“Areyousure?”
“No.”
“Thenyouneedtotakesomemoretimetothinkaboutit,”hesayssoftly.“Okay?”
“Okay,”Imumble.
Afteralongbeat,hereachesformyhandagain.“Comeon,let’skeepwalking.I’lltellyoumoreaboutCoachDeathandyoucantellmeallabouthowyouFrench-kissedyourTimberlakeposters.”
Icroakoutalaugh.God.Thisguy…just…thisguy.Iwanttothankhim.Kisshim.Tellhimhowamazingheis.
ButallIdoistwinemyfingersthroughhisandlethimguidemebacktothepath.22
Sabrina
Thephonefeelslikeabrickinmyhands.IhavetoscheduletheD&CsoonorI’llbeoutsidemywindow.Ishould’vedoneitamonthago,damnit.It’snearlytheendofFebruaryandI’mfifteenweeksalong.Idon’tknowwhyI’veletitgosolong.
Well,Idoknowwhy.BecauseIcan’tmakeupmymind.Halfthetime,IthinkI’llbebetteroffwithoutachild.Therestofthetime,Ican’tgettheimageofBeau’scasketoutofmyhead.
WetnessdribblesdownmycheeksandIswipethetearsawaywithanangryhand.Great.I’mcryinginpublic.Youwould’vethoughtIcriedallmytearsatBeau’smemorial.Thatwashideouslybrutal.
IknewitwasabadideatostudyatStarbuckstoday,consideringhowhormonalI’vebeenlately,butIdidn’twanttobeathomeincaseIfinallyworkedupthenervetocalltheclinic.Istillhaven’ttoldNanaaboutthepregnancyandIdidn’twantheraccidentallyonpurposefindingout.
Forthefirsttimeinmylife,IfeellikeI’mcompletelywithoutdirection.Ihaven’tseenTuckersinceourdayinthepark,andIstoppedansweringhistextsaboutaweekago.Thesedays,Ican’tfocusonanythingotherthantheimpendingdecisionthat’shangingovermyhead.
Andit’snotjustTuckerI’vebeenducking.I’veonlybeentooneweeklylunchwithHopeandCarinsinceBeau’sdeath.I’veblameditonincreasedworkhours,butIdon’tthinkthey’rebuyingit.
“Sabrina?”
Myheadjerksup.JoannaMaxwellisstandinginfrontofmytable.She’sgotacupofcoffeeinonehandandastylishwhiteclutchintheother.Drapedinaroyal-bluewoolcoat,shelookseveryinchtheBroadwaystarthatshe’sgoingtobe.
“Joanna.”Ileaptomyfeetandgiveherahug.“Howareyou?”Herbonesfeelaboutassturdyastwigsinmyembrace.Igiveheranothersqueezebeforelettinghergo.
Shesmileswanly.“Okay.”
“WhatareyoudoinginBoston?Isyourshowtraveling?”
“No,it’sstillplayinginManhattan.”Aslowflushcreepsupherneck.“I…ah…quit.”
Shocksilencesmeforasecond.“Youquit?”
“Yes.IhadanopportunitytodosomethingelseandItookit.”Herwordsareamixtureofdefianceandembarrassment,asifshe’stiredofhavingtojustifyherchoices,whichshecertainlydoesn’thavetodowithme.
“Well,goodforyou.”ButI’mconfused,becausewhenIhungoutwithBeau,hesaidthatBroadwaywasJoanna’sdream.
“Right?I’myoung,soifthere’severatimeformetotrynewthings,it’srightnow.”
Tryingnewthingsterrifiesme,butInodanywaybecauseI’mnotthegirlwholostherbelovedbrother.
I’mjustthegirlwho’sknockedup.
“Absolutely.Whatareyoudoing?”
“I’mcuttingademo,”sheadmits.
I’mnotpartoftheBriarartscrowd,soIhavenoideawhatshe’stalkingabout.“Oh.Cool.”
Thebewildermentmustshowonmyface,becauseJoannaadds,“It’sprettymuchasamplethatIcansendtovariousA&Rpeopleintheindustry.Theylistentoit,and,hopefully,someonesignsmeandIgetarecorddeal.Ifthatdoesn’twork,I’llsingcoversandpostthemonYouTube,maybetrytogainvisibilitythatway.It’sallkindofupintheair.”
“That’sgreat,”Itellher,butinmyhead,Idon’tunderstand.
Whyintheworldwouldanyoneleaveapayingsinginggigforsomethingthatseemsriskyashell?IfIhadagoodjobrightnow,maybeI’dkeepthisbaby.IthinkthatifI’dgottenpregnantattheendoflawschoolinsteadofthebeginning,I’dviewthingsdifferently.
“It’sterrifying,actually.Ihadtogetajobwaitingtables,whichI’veneverdonebefore.Butthere’snootherwaytopaymybills.AndbyleavingBroadwaynow,Imightneverbeabletogoback.”
“I,ah,I—”Istutter.ThepotentialoflosingeverythingIplannedforallmylifebecauseofthispregnancyhasparalyzedme.Joannasoundslikeshepurposelyjumpedoffacliffwithnosafetynet.“Ihopeyoufollowyourdream,”Ifinishlamely.
“That’sexactlywhatI’mdoing.”Shesighs.“Anddespitewhatmyparentsbelieve,I’mnothavinganexistentialcrisisbecauseBeaudied.Infact,he’dtotallybeonboardwiththis,don’tyouthink?”
Beaulovedhissister,soyeah,ifthismadeherhappy,thenhewouldhavesupportedher.“He’dwantyoutobehappy,”Iagree.
Joannabitesherlowerlip.“DidyouknowthatBeaudidn’treallywanttogopro?Imean,theteamsuckedlastyearandhehadofferstogotootherschools,maybewinanotherchampionship.Thatwould’veputhiminabetterpositiontobedrafted,buthelovedhisteamandhewasn’tinterestedinplayingatthenextlevel.Beauwasallaboutbeinghappy.”Shestartstochokeup,andIpraytoGodthosetearsdon’tspillover,becauseifshecries,I’mgoingtostartsobbingtoo.
Pregnancyhasturnedmeintoaweepy,emobitch.
“Thenyoushoulddothis,”Isayfirmly.
“Iknow.”
ShewipesherfacewithhersleevewhileIdigintomypursetoseeifIcanfindatissue.There’sacrumpledoneinthecorner,butit’sclean,andJoannagratefullytakesit.
“Hereallylikedyou,”shesaysinasoftvoice.“Youguyscould’vemadeagreatcouple,butmaybeit’sbetterthatyoudidn’tfallinlovewithhim.”Herfacecollapsesasthegriefshe’sbeenholdingatbayswampsher.“Thenyouwouldn’tbeamesslikeIam.”
Withoutaword,Iguidehertothetable,draganemptychairnexttomine,andthensitbesideherwhileshecries.Afewoftheotherpatronsgiveusweirdlooks.Ireturntheirnosinesswithadeathglare.
Fortunately,Joannacomposesherselfinnotime.Soonshe’sblowinghernoseandcastingmeachagrinedlookoutfromundertheveilofherhair.“Fuck.Ihadn’tcriedallday,”shemumbles.“Itwasanewrecord.”
“IfIwereyou,Iwouldn’tevengetoutofbed.”
“Ididthatforthefirstcoupleofweeks,andthenIwokeupandthought,Beauwouldkickmyassifhesawmeshittingmylifeaway.SohereIam,tryingsomethingstupidandnew.”
“Doesn’tsoundsostupidtome.”Anditdoesn’tanymore.Joannaisyoung.Ifpursuingadifferentcareerinmusicisherdream,bettertochaseitnowthanlater.
“Youreallybelievethat?”
“OfcourseIdo.”
Shestuffsthetissueinhercoatpocket.“Beaualwayssaidyouweresodriven.Ifiguredthiswasthesortofthingyou’dlookdownon.”
Ifrown.“Youmakemesoundlikeacallousasshole.”
“No.Ididn’tmeanitthatway.Itwasacompliment.”Shepauses.“Iwasthesameway.Ihadeverythingplannedout—I’dgetadegreeinperformingarts,getafantasticroleinaBroadwayplay,andridemystartothetopofthemarquee.ThenBeaudiedandallofitjustseemsunimportantnow,youknowwhatImean?”
IthinkImight.
“Anyway,Ibettergetgoing.”Sheleansforwardandhugsmeagain.Thistimehergripissurprisinglyfierce.“Takecareofyourself,Sabrina.Ihopeyouliveyourlifemakingyourselfhappy.”
Yeah.IfonlyIknewwhatpaththatrequired.
*
Thenextday,Ifindmyselfinfrontofmyadvisor’soffice.ProfessorGibsonhasherheadbentoverherdesk,gradingpapers.IknocksoftlysoIdon’tstartleher.
“Sabrina,comein.”Shewavesmeforwardwithawelcomingsmile.“How’syourlastsemestergoing?”
“Easy.Iknowhowtotakeatestnow.”
“Oryou’vetrainedyourselftothinkmorecriticallyandbeabletoparsethroughscadsofinformationtofindthesimpletenetsthatunderpinalltheories?”
“Orthat.”IlaughasItakeaseat.
“AreyouexcitedaboutHarvardthisfallorlookingforwardtosummerbreak?”
“Harvard,definitely.I’mgoingtomissthisplace.”ItakeinProfessorGibson’scozyofficewithitsoversizedstuffedchairthatshegetsrecoveredeveryfouryears,andthetoweringstackofbooksthatthreatentotumbleoveratanysecondbutneverdo.Shehaspictureseverywhere—withherstudents,withherhusband.
Andithitsme.ThereasonI’veneverthoughtabouthavingkidsisbecausefromtheminuteImetProfessorGibson,Iwantedtobeher.She’ssmart,successful,kind-hearted,andsowellrespected.Everywhereshegoes,peoplelookuptoher.Andforakidlikeme,fromtheSouthBostonslums,thatsortofadmirationwasadream—onethatI’vepursuedrelentlesslyhereatBriar.
Idon’tknowanyfemalewithachildwho’sassuccessfulasProfessorGibson.WhichIknow,intellectually,iswrong,becausetherearethousandsofmotherswhoaredoctors,lawyers,bankers,andscientists.EvenHopeandCarintalkaboutmotherhood,someday.Butthatsomedayisinthenebulousfutureforthem,whereasit’srightfuckingnowinmybelly.
“Doyouwishyouhadkids?”IblurtoutasIstareatthepictureofherandherhusbandstandinginfrontofsomeancientcastle.
ProfessorGibsonnarrowshereyes,andsomehow,sheknows.Icanseeitinherface.
“Oh,Sabrina.”There’saquestionimplicitinhersigh.
Inod.
Shecloseshereyes,andwhensheopensthem,alltracesofjudgmentaregone.ButIsawthatinitialflickerofdisappointment,anditstings.
“Sometimes,”shesaysinresponsetomyquestion.“SometimesIdo,andsometimesI’mgladthatIdon’t.I’vebeenthespecialauntietomybrother’sthreekids,andthat’sfilledmostofmymotheringinstincts.Ihavemystudents,andthat’stremendouslyfulfilling,butIwon’tlieandsayIhaven’twonderedwhatitwouldbeliketohaveachildofmyown.”
“DoyouthinkIcandoit?HaveakidandmakeitthroughHarvard?”
Shemakesasmall,sadsoundatthebackofherthroat.“Idon’tknow.Yourfirstyearistime-consumingandoverwhelming,butyou’reverysmart,Sabrina.Iftherewasanyonewhocoulddothis,itwouldbeyou.Butitmaymeansacrifices.Maybeyoudon’tgraduatesummacumlaude—”
Iwince,becausebeingatthetopofmylawschoolclassisdefinitelyoneofmygoals.
“OrLawReview—”
Iswallowamoanofdismay.
“—Butyou’llstillbeaHarvardgrad.Ihavenodoubtaboutthat.”Shepauses.“Whatdoesthefathersay?”
“It’suptome.Hesupportsmeeitherway.”
Thesmilethatspreadsisgenuine.“Ah,you’vegotagoodonethen.”
Ido.Tuckerhasbeenverygoodtome,andthat’spartoftheproblem.IfIkeepthisbaby,I’mimpactinghislifeinathousanddifferentways—andnotallofthemaregood.
“I’msureyou’llmaketherightdecision,whateveritis.”
“Thanks.”Ipushtomyfeet.“Iknowthatthisisweird,mecomingtoyou,butmymom…”Itrailoff.
“I’mgladyoucametome,”ProfessorGibsonsaysfirmly.
Ithankheragainandleavetheoffice.IknowIshouldtalktomygirls,butthey’llsaythesamethingsasProfessorGibson.Infact,thereasonIwenttoherwasbecauseIthoughtforsureshe’dtellmetogettheabortion.
Fiveminuteslater,Isitinmycar,staringunseeinglyatthedashboard.Imissmymomrightnow.Shewashardlyeveraroundandweweren’tclose,butshe’sstillmymotherandIwishshewerehere.Iwanttoknowwhyshekeptmewhensheclearlydidn’twantmeinherlife.
WhenIgethome,Ipulloutasheetofpaperandstartlistingtheprosandcons.Halfwaythroughthecons,Itearthesheetinhalfandthrowitaway.
Myanswerhasbeenthereallalong.Ididn’tneedtoseeJoanna,orProfessorGibson,orcommunewithmyabsenteemother.Thefactis,Ihaven’tscheduledtheabortionbecauseIdon’twanttogetone.Itmightbethebestoption,butI’vespentmywholelifefeelingunwanted.
Ituckaprotectivehandovermystill-flatstomach.Asmartergirlwouldgettheproceduredone,butI’mnotthatsmartgirl.Nottoday.
Today,I’mkeepingit.23
Sabrina
IlieinwaitoutsideTucker’seleveno’clockclass.Ratherthanaskhimwhenwecouldmeetup,IstalkedhimonlineandfoundapostontheBriarYikYakthathadalloftheplayers’schedules.That’snotcreepy.
Asstudentsstreamoutoftheivy-coveredbuilding,Irecognizemaybeoneinthirty,ifthat.MytimeatBriariscomingtotheend,andIdon’thavemuchtoshowforit.Somekidsgraduatewitharaftoffriendsthattheycarryintotheirpostgraduatelife.Me?I’vegotmydegree,Carin,andHope.Andnowababy.Iguessthebabyoutweighstheentiresisterhoodofasorority.
TuckerstrollsoutwithGarrettGraham.They’rebothgorgeous,butTuckeristheonewhocommandsmyattention.NotthatGrahamisn’tgood-looking,butTucker’sallIsee.Heshavedhisbeard.Idon’tknowhowIfeelaboutthat—Ilikedthebeard—butIcan’tdenythathisclean-shavenfaceisequallyappealing.He’sgotadimpleinhischinthatwashiddenbyallthescruff.God,Iwanttoexplorethatdimplewithmytongue.
Therestofhimisequallytempting.He’swearingatight,long-sleeveknitshirtwithonecornertuckedintothesideofhisjeans.Apairofsunglassesisperchedonthetopofhisauburnhead,whichisthrownbackashelaughsatsomethingGrahamismurmuringoutofthecornerofhismouth.Behindthemtrailsalineofhungrygirlswhodesperatelywanttheattentionoftheseguys.Butthey’rebothmoreinterestedinexchangingquipsthanscopingoutthewomen.
Aflutterofreliefwashesoverme.Sincethenightatthehotel,wehaven’tslepttogether.TherewasthepregnancydiscoveryandthenBeau’sdeathandthenBeau’smemorialandthen…nothingreally.Myheadhasn’tbeeninagoodplacesinceNewYear’s.
Ibitemylip.Ididn’twanttodraghimdownwithme,butthat’sexactlywhatI’mdoing.
Hecutsoffmid-chucklewhenhiseyeslandonme.Hislipsmove,sayingsomethinglike,“I’llseeyoulater,man.I’vegotsomethingtotakecareof.”
Garrett’sgazeswingstowardme,andheprobablysays,“She’sgoingtosuckyoursoulout.Stayawayfromher.”
Tucker’slipscurveup.He’seitherreplyingthathecanhandlemeorlikesthewayIsuckormaybeeven,“Toolate.”Ashesaunterstowardme,Garrett’sglaremovesfromTucker’sbacktomyface.
Ismilewide,showingalittleteeth.
“You’reavoidingme,”Tuckermurmurswhenhereachesme.
Iswitchmyattentiontohim,tuningoutGarrett,theadoringgirls,andtherestofourclassmates.They’readistractionandIoweittoTuckertobefocused.
“I’vehadalotonmymind,”Iadmit.
“Yeah.Metoo.”
Whenhequirksupaneyebrow,Itiltmyheadtowardthecrowd.“Gotamoment?”
“Foryou,always.”
Myheartsqueezes.I’vebeenAWOLforweeksandhestillfindsawaytolookatmelikeI’mtheonlygirlinhisorbit.Idon’tfuckingdeservehim.
HetakesmyelbowandIfollowhimtowardarowofbenchesalongthequad.“Youseeinganyone?”IaskinthemostcasualvoiceIcanmuster.
HestopssoabruptlythatInearlytakeaheaderonthecobblestones.Hehaulsmeupright,plantingbothhandsonmyshoulderstoorientmesoI’mfacinghim.
“Areyoukiddingmewiththat?”
“Youstoppedtextingme.”Ihatetheuncertaintyinmyvoice.
Hisexpressionsoftens.“I’vebeengivingyouspace.”
Iforceashrug.“It’dbeokayifyouwere.”
Amuscleinhisjawjumps,andthegriparoundmyshouldersgrowsuncomfortablytight.Okay.Ipeggedthatonewrong.
Finally,hesighsandpullshissunglasseson.“No,I’mnotseeinganyone.”Underhisbreath,Ihearhimmutter,“Apparentlynotevenyou.”
“I’msorry,”Iblurtout.“Itwasn’tmeanttobeaninsult.Ijustwantedyoutoknowthatthis—”Iwavemyfingersinacirclearoundmybelly“—shouldn’tbeholdingyouback.”
Hisfeaturestenseagain.“Ineedsomefoodbeforewecontinuethisconversation.Comeon.”
“Wherearewegoing?”
“Somewhereprivate.”Hedoesn’tbreakstrideevenasheredirectsusfromthelecturehalltowardtheparkinglotbehindthebuilding.
Anumberofpeoplewavetohimaswepass,buthedoesn’tstopforanyofthem,nordoeshetalktome.Whenwereachhispickup,henudgesmeintothepassengersideandthenstaresexpectantlyatme.
“What?”Imutter.
“Seatbelt.”
“I’lldoitwhenyougetinthetruck.”
“Now.”
“IsthisbecauseIaskedifyouwereseeinganyone?”
Thejawmusclemovesagain.“No.It’sbecauseyou’repregnant.”Aneyebrowcreepsabovetherimofhissunglasses.“Youstillare,right?”
Iflush.ButIguessIdeservedthat.“Yes.Iwouldn’tdoanythingwithouttellingyoufirst.”
“Good.Buckleyourseatbelt.”
Idoasheordersbecauseit’sobviouswe’renotmovinganinchuntilhehearstheclick.ThenIholdmyhandsoutandsay,“Okay?”
Henodsandshutsthedoor.
Wedon’tsayawordashestartsthetruckandleavesthelot.Hedrivesusaboutthreemilesaway,wherewepulltoastopinfrontofasmalloutdoorrink.Theiceismelted,andinsteadofskaters,therinkisfilledwithpicnictables.Onlyafewpeople,noneofthemstudents,occupythetables.
“Whydon’tyougrabaseat?”Tuckersaysashehelpsmegetoutofthecar.“Wantanythingtoeat?Drink?”
“I’lltakeawater.”
HeheadsofftotheconcessionstandwhileIclaimatableinthefarcorner,situatingmyselfsoIcanwatchTuckerstrideacrossthepavement.
IfIhadtochoosethefatherofmychild,Icouldn’thavedonebetterthanJohnTucker.He’sgorgeous,tall,athleticallygiftedandsmart.Butmostofall,he’sdecent.Nomatterwhathappensinthefuture,he’llneverturnawayfromhiskid.He’llnevermakehimorherfeelunwanted.He’llneverthreatenhisorherlifeinanyway.Nomatterwhathappens—evenifIscrewup,andIknowIwill—Tuckerwillbetheretocleanupmymess.
It’sbecausehe’ssogoodanddecentthatthisdecisiontokeepthebabywassofuckingdifficult.IfI’dgottentheabortion,Ithinkhewouldhavegrieved,butnowthatI’mkeepingit,hislifewillbeforeverchanged.Andit’llbebecauseofme.
Ikeephavingtoremindmyselfofthat.Ican’trelyonhimtooheavilyorasktoomuchfromhim,becausehe’dgivemeeverythingwithoutcomplaint.ButI’mnotatakerandI’mnotauser.ItwouldbesoeasytofallinlovewithTuckerandallowhimtotakecareofeverything.
Itwouldbeeasy.Butnotfair.
Aminutelater,hesettlesintohisseatandpushesawaterbottleacrossthetable.Heboughthimselfahotdogandacoffee,andneitherofusspeakashequicklyinhaleshisfood.Oncehe’sdone,heballsuphisnapkinandshovesitintheemptyhotdogcontainer.Hetuckshissunglassesintohisneckline,curveshislarge,capablehandsaroundhiscoffeecup,andthenwaits.It’smyshow.
Ilickmylipsonce,twice,andthenjustgoforit.“I’mkeepingthebaby.”
Hiseyesfluttershut,hidingwhateveremotionthatwashesoverhim.Relief?Fear?Unhappiness?Whenheflickshislidsup,hisgazeisclearandexpressionless.“HowcanIhelp?”
Areluctantsmilesurfaces.SuchaTuckerthingtosay.Whichreinforcesmyresolvetomakesurethathesuffersalmostnoburdenandthathe’sfreetofindwhomeverorwhateverhewantsinthefuture.Theminutethathewantsout,Iwon’tfightit.
“I’mgoodfornow.Iactuallyhaveinsurancethroughmypostaljob.I’vebeenworkingtheresinceIgraduatedfromhighschool.IusedtogrumbleaboutmyhealthpremiumsinceIneverusedit,butnowit’scominginhandy.”
“Allright.Sohealthcareistakencareof.Whataboutafteryouhavethebaby?Youstillgoingtolawschool?”
“Yes,absolutely.”Thethoughtofquittinghadn’tevenoccurredtome.“It’slikecollege.Youhavethreeorfourhoursofclassesaday.Therestofthetime,I’llbehomestudying.”
Hismouththinsoutinthefirstsignofanykindofemotion.“Withyourstepfather?”
It’shardnottoflushwithshame.“He’sanasshole,buthe’snevertouchedme.”
“That’snotmuchofanendorsement.”
Irollthewaterbottlebetweenmyhandsafewtimes.Tuckerwaitsmeout.He’sgotmorepatiencethanasaint.
“Ihadtoquitmyjobattheclub,”Isayquietly.“Iwasbankingonthatmoneytohelpwithmylawschooltuition.Ican’taffordtoliveanywhereelsethanwhereIamnow.Plus,I’mhopingthatNanawillwatchthebabywhenI’matschool.”
“Whataboutme?Doyoutrustme?”
Myheadjerksuptomeethisslightlyfrustratedexpression.“Ofcourse.”
“Thenwhydon’tItakecareofthebabywhileyou’reinclass?”
“Becauseyou’vegottogetajob,right?Nanadoesn’twork.Shelivesoffhersocialsecuritymoney.”
Tuckerrubsahandacrosshisforehead,asiftheenormityofthetaskwe’reabouttoundertakeisfinallysettlingin.“You’reright.Ineedtofindajob.”
“Youhaven’tfoundabusinessyet?”
“Therearedozensofthem,butifthere’sanythingIlearnedaboutbusinessmanagement,it’sthatifyoudon’tlovewhatyou’redoingit’sboundtobeafailure.”Hetakesasipofhiscoffee.“I’llsignontoaconstructioncrewforthesummer.I’vedonethatinthepastandit’sgoodmoney.Duringmytimeoff,I’llkeeplookingatdifferentopportunitiesuntilIfindtherightone.”
“Sountilthattime,itmakessenseforNanatohelp.”
Hethinksitover,buthecan’tcomeupwithabettersolution.“Fornow.Untilwecanfindsomethingbetter.”Hepauses.“Ineedtotellmymom.Andmyteammates.”
Thechurningthatstartsinmybellyhasnothingtodowiththepregnancyandeverythingtodowithembarrassment.Whichtriggersajoltofself-directedannoyance,becausegettingpregnantisn’tsomehorrible,shamefuloccurrence.I’manadult.I’mhavingababy.That’snotabigdeal.
“Willyouwaitabitlonger?Imean,I’mokaywithyoutellingyourmom,butcanyoukeepitquietwithyourfriendsfornow?”Ihesitate,thenconfess,“Ihaven’ttoldanyone.”
“Noone?”hesays,incredulous.
Inodmiserably.“You’renottheonlypersonI’vebeenavoiding.I’vebarelyseenCarinorHope.”
“Soyouadmityou’reavoidingme.”
Ican’tlookhimintheeye.Instead,Ipretendtobefixatedwiththewoodgrainofthepicnictables.IwantsobadlytotellhimhowmuchI’vemissedhim.BecauseIhave.I’vemissedkissinghimandjokingaroundwithhimandhearinghimcallme“darlin’”inhissoutherndrawl.
I’vebeenalargelysolitarypersonmywholelife,avoidingNanaandRaywhenIcould.AtBriar,ImadefriendswithCarinandHopebutdidn’tfeeltheneedforabigger,moreextensivecircle.SotheacutelonelinessbroughtonbynotseeingTuckertookmebysurprise.
ButhowcanIbewithhimknowingthatI’mtheonewhoturnedhiswholeworldupsidedown?Theweightofguiltwouldcrushmemorethantheweightofloneliness.
Itakeadeepbreath,pushingoutthewordsthatIdon’twanttosay.“Ifyouwanttoseeotherpeople…youcan.I’mnotgoingto.Idon’thavetimeforthat,butifyouwantto,Idon’tmind.”
Silencefallsbetweenus.
AlongfingerfindsitswayundermychinandliftsitupuntilIeitherhavetoshutmyeyesorstareintoTucker’s.Ichoosethelatter,butit’simpossibletoreadhisexpression.
Hegivesmealong,contemplativelookbeforesaying,“Howaboutthis?I’lltellyouifI’vefoundanyonenew.AndyouandI,wecanjustbefriends.”Hegentleshistone.“Ifyoudecideyouwantmore,wecantalkaboutitthen.”
“Friends?”Iechofaintly.“I’lltakefriends.”Andthen,becausehe’ssodecent,Iblurtout,“I’veneverhadaboyfriend.Ionlyknowhowtohookupandhowtoscrewup.”
“Darlin’—”
Hearingthosetwosoftsyllablesonlyheightensmypanic.“Ican’tbelieveI’mgoingtobeaparent.God,Tuck,I’veonlythoughtaboutonethingmyentirelife—crawlingoutofmyhellhole.AndnowIhavetodragsomeonedownwithmeandIdon’tknowifIcandoit.”
TearsthatI’vebeenholdingatbayforweeksspillover.Tuckercupsmycheekwithonewarmhandandstaresfirmlyintomyeyes.
“You’renotalone,”hesays,fierceandlow.“Andyou’renotdragginganyonedown.I’mherewithyou,Sabrina.Everystepoftheway.”
That’swhatI’mafraidof.
*
Tucker
Inhockey,nearlyeveryoneplayswithapartner.Theoffenseforwardlineismadeupofaleftwing,acenter,andarightwing.Thedefenseskatesinpairs.Onlythegoalieisaloneandhe’salwaysweird.Always.
KennySimms,whograduatedlastyear,wasoneofthegreatestgoaliesatBriarandprobablythereasonwewonthreeFrozenFoursinarow,butthatguyhadthestrangestfuckinghabits.Hetalkedtohimselfmorethanhetalkedtoanyoneelse,satinthebackofthebus,preferredtoeatalone.Ontherareoccasionthathecameoutwithus,he’darguetheentiretime.Ioncegotintoitwithhimoverwhethertherewastoomuchtechnologyavailabletochildren.Wearguedaboutthattopicfortheentirethreehourswewereknockingbackbeersatthebar
SabrinaremindsmeofSimms.She’snotweird,butshe’sclosedofflikeheis.Shethinksshe’salone.Basically,she’sneverhadanyoneskatewithher—notevenherfriends,CarinandHope.Ikindofunderstandit.TheguysoutsideofmyhockeyteamthatI’vebeenfriendlywitharedecent,butIhaven’tbledwiththem,criedwiththem,wonwiththem.Idon’tknowifthey’llhavemyback,becausewe’veneverbeeninapositionwherethatloyaltyhasbeentested.
Sabrinadoesn’tknowwhatit’sliketohavesomeonestandbesideher,letalonebehindher.Andit’sforthatreasonthatIdon’tgiveintotheurgetoshakeherlikeapi?ataforsayingshitlikeI’mfreetoseeotherwomen.Thefearinhereyesispalpable,andIremindmyselfthatpatienceisthekeyhere.
“Wantmetofollowyouhome?”IofferasIpullintothecampuslotwhereshelefthercar.“Wecanhangoutabit,makesomeplans?”
Sheshakesherhead.Ofcoursenot.Thegirlhasn’tbeenabletolookatmesinceshebrokedownintears.Shehatescryinginfrontofme.Hell,sheprobablyhatescryingingeneral.ToSabrina,tearsareasignofweakness,andshecan’tstandbeingviewedasanythinglessthanAmazonian.
Istifleasighandclimboutofthetruck.Iwalkhertohercarandthendragherstiffbodyagainstmine.It’slikehuggingafrozenlog.
“Iwanttogotothenextdoctor’svisitwithyou,”Itellher.
“Okay.”
“Don’tgettooexcitedaboutallofthis.You’llwakeupthebaby,”Isaydryly.
Sheflashesapainedsmile.“That’sweird,right?Sayingthatwe’rehavingababy?”
“Thereareweirderthings.Simmsy,ouroldgoalie,usedtoeatcircuspeanutsbeforeeachgame.That’sprettystrange.Awomanhavingababyseemstofallintothefairlyordinarycategory.”
Herearspinken.“Imean,us.”Shewigglesherindexfingerbetweenus.“Ushavingababyisweird.”
“Nope.Don’tthinkthat’sweirdeither.You’reyoung—andsuperfertile,apparently—andIcan’tkeepmyhandsoffofyou.”Ileandownandplantahardkissonhersurprisedmouth.“Gohomeandtakeanaporsomething.Textmewhenyouknowwhenthenextappointmentis.I’llseeyoulater.”
AndthenItakeoffbeforeshehastheopportunitytoarguewithme.Weird?It’snotweird.It’sterrifyingandawesomeatthesametime,butit’snotweird.
WhenIgethome,thehouseisempty,whichisagoodthing.Ifmyroommateswerearound,Imightendupspillingthebeans,andI’vegottorespectSabrina’swishes.We’reateamnow,whethershelikesitornot.She’sscaredoutofhermind,filledwithguilt,andoverwhelmedwithwhat’sgoingtohappennext.IfigureatthispointallIcandoisbethereforher.
Whenyouhaveanewteammate,theydon’talwaystrustyourightaway.They’llplaypuckhogbecausethat’sthewaythey’reusedtoscoring,toachievingsuccess.Raisingakidisateamsport.Sabrinaneedstolearntotrustme.
ButwhileIwon’ttellmyroommatesuntilshe’sready,thereissomeonewhoneedstoknow.
SoIheadupstairs,sitontheedgeofmybed,andtextmymom.
Me:Gotaminute?
Her:In20,baby!FinishingacolorforMrs.Nelson.
Ispendthenexttwentyminutesgooglingshitaboutbabies.Ihadn’tallowedmyselftodothatbefore.Ididn’tknowifSabrinawasgoingtokeepthebaby,andifshe’ddecidedtogothroughwiththeabortion,Ididn’twanttobecomeattachedandthenbeheartbroken.
Now,I’mfreetothrowmyselfintofatherhood.UnlikeSabrina,I’mnotfeelingasterrifiedaboutitanymore.I’vealwaysenvisionedmyselfhavingafamily.Granted,Ididn’tthinkitwasgoingtohappenforawhile,atleastnotuntilIwasdonewithcollege,hadagoodbusiness,andwasmakingdecentcoin.Butlifeisalwayschangingandyoujusthavetoadapt.
IdosomesloppymathinthemarginofmybusinesspropertynotesaboutwhetherIcanbuyahomeinBostonandquicklyrealizethatIcan’taffordtobuyabusinessandahouseonthefundsmydadleftme.HousingisridiculouslyexpensiveinBoston.IguessI’llhavetorentforawhile.
Okay.So.I’mgoingtoneedaplacetolive,ajob,andIneedtofigureoutwhatI’mgoingtodowithmyfuckinglifebeyondcollege.I’vebeenhalf-assingthebusinesssearchbecausetherewasn’tanyurgency,butwithakidonthewayandSabrinalivingintheshitholeshe’scurrentlyin,Ineedtogetallmyducksinorder.
I’morderingacoupleofbooksonAmazonaboutpregnancyandparentingwhenmymothercalls.
“Sweetheart!Howiseverythinggoing?Onlyacouplemoremonthsandyou’llbebackhome!”shesingsintomyear.
Mystomachplummets.Ifthere’sonepersonIhatedisappointing,it’smymom,andmenotcomingbacktoTexasisgoingtocrushher.ButifI’mhonest,I’vebeenonthefenceaboutTexasforawhilenow.Insomeways,thebabyissavingmefromthat.
ImakeamentalnotetotellSabrinathis,becauseIknow,inherhead,she’sthinkingshe’sruinedmylife.
“Actually,aboutthat.My…”Ihesitate,becauseIdon’tknowwhatweareafterourlittletalkthismorning.“Girlfriend,”Ifinish,forlackofabetterterm.OurrelationshipistoocomplicatedtogointodepthwithMomrightnow.Besides,Ican’tpoisonthatparticularwell,becauseMom’salreadygoingtobeupset.“RememberItoldyouatChristmasImetagirl?”
“Yes…”Shesoundscautious.
Iripthebandageoff.“She’spregnant.”
“Isthebabyyours?”Momasksimmediately.There’sanoteofhopeinhervoice,whichIquicklysquash.
“Yeah,Mom,that’swhyI’mcallingyou.”
There’salong,longmomentofsilence.SolongthatIalmostwonderifshe’shunguponme.
Finally,shesays,“Isshekeepingit?”
“Yes.She’slikesixteenweeksalong.”I’vealreadydonethemath.Thedateofconceptionisprobablythefirsttimewehadsex,whenIwasinsuchahurrytobeinsidehertightpussythatIforgotaboutthecondom.
SabrinaJamesmakesmelosemymind,inmorewaysthanone.
“Sixteenweeks!”Momyelps.“DidyouknowatChristmasanddidn’tsayanything?”
“No,ofcoursenot.Ididn’tfindoutuntillater.”
“Oh,John.Whatareyougoingtodo?”
Iletoutaslow,steadybreath.“Whateverittakes.”24
Sabrina
ThreeWeeksLater
WhenIarriveatDella’s,theboothinthecornerisempty.That’sagoodsign.Itugthesideofmycoatovermybelly.It’sgettingtoowarmformylongjacket,butI’mstartingtoshow.Thankgoodnessforyogapants.Idon’tknowhowmuchlongerI’llgetawaywithwearingregularclothes.
I’vebeenresearchingeverythingIcanaboutpregnancy,andonesadfactIfoundisthatnoone’sexperienceisthesame.Foreverywomanwho’sgainedonlytheexactbabyweightplusafewextrapounds,therearefivewhosweartheyswallowedanentirefieldofwatermelons.Alotofthemadmittedthatatsomepointtheyhadtogiveupdrivingbecausethesteeringwheelpushedintotheirstomach,nottomentionthatseatbeltsaren’tmadeforpregnantladies.Icanalreadytestifytothat.
EverythingischangingformeandI’mscaredshitless.Istillhaven’ttoldNanaormyfriends.Tuckerstillhasn’ttoldhisfriends,becauseI’veorderedhimnotto.Iknowit’sirrational,butit’slikeapartofmebelievesthatifwedon’tsayanything,thenlifedoesn’thavetochange.WhenItoldTuckerthatoverthephonelastnight,herespondedwithagentlelaughandsaid,“It’salreadychanged,darlin’.”
AndthenIwokeupthismorningandcouldn’tdoupmyjeans,andrealitycamecrashingdownonmelikethehammerofThor.Ican’thidethispregnancyanymore.Thisshitisreal.
Sotodayislet’s-drop-a-baby-bombday.I’mhopingthatonceIstophiding,Icanreclaimcontrolofmylifeandstartsteeringmyshipagain.MaybethenI’llbeabletosleepanentirenightwithoutwakingupinacoldsweat.
“Wanttowaitforyourfriends,orshouldIbringyousomething?”HannahasksasIslideintothebooth.
Mygazeinvoluntarilyfallstoherslenderwaist,andatwingeofenvyhitsme.Iwonderifminewilleverbethesame.Mybodyisstartingtofeelalien.Thehardbumpinmystomachisn’tsomethingIcandietaway.There’sahumanbeinginthere.Andthatmoundisonlygoingtogrow.
“Milk,”Isay,albeitreluctantly.Sodaisonthelistofthingsthatarebadformysystem,alongwitheverythingelsethatisgoodandwonderfulinthisworld.
AsHannahtrotsoff,Hopeappears.“What’sup?Yourtextsoundedsoominous.”Sheshrugsoutofhertrenchandflopsdownacrossfromme.“EverythingisstillagowithHarvard,right?”
“Let’swait’tilCarincomes.”
Shefrownsdeeply.“Youokay?Nanaisn’tsick,isshe?”
“No,she’sfine.AndHarvard’sstillago.”Ipeeratthedoor,willingCarintoarrive.
Hopecontinuestogrillme.“DidRayfalloffacliff?No,thatwouldbegoodnews.OhGod,hebrokehislegandyouhavetoliterallywaitonhimhandandfoot.”
“Shutyourmouth.Wedon’tevenwanttotemptfatewithsuggestionslikethat.”
“Ah,shecanstilljoke.Theworldisn’tcomingtoanend.”HopesignalsforHannahbeforefixinghergazeonme.“Okay,soifit’snotyourgrandmaandHarvardisontrackandRay’sstillthesameassholeasalways,whatisit?Wehaven’tseenyouinweeks.”
“I’lltellyouwhenCaringetshere.”
Shethrowsupherhandsinfrustration.“Carin’salwayslate!”
“Andyou’realwaysimpatient.”Iwonderwhatmykidwillbe?Late,impatient,driven,laidback?Ihopelaidback.I’malwayssofuckinganxious.IwishTuckerhadshotmeupwithsomeofhispatienceratherthanhissperm.Sadly,itdoesn’tworkthatway.
“True.”Sheshiftsinherseat.“How’sTucker?Youguysanactualthing?”
“We’resomething,”Imutter.
“What’sthatsupposedtomean?You’vebeenseeinghimsincetheendofOctober.That’smorethanfourmonths.InSabrinaLand,youmightaswellbeengaged.”
Actually,eighteenweeksandthreedays,butwho’scountingbesidesmeandmyOB?
BeforeHopecanpushmesomemore,Carinbreezesinwitha,“Sorry,I’mlate,”andone-armedsidehugsforeachofus.
Hannahpopsover,deliveringmymilkandtwomoremenusbeforedisappearingtotendtothenexttable.
HopegrabsCarinbythewristanddragsherintothebooth.“Weforgiveyou,”shetellsher.Thensheturnstomewithasternlook.“Spill.”
“Carindoesn’tevenhavehercoatoff,”Iprotest,althoughIdon’tknowwhyI’mdelayingtheinevitable.It’sembarrassingthatIdon’tknowhowtousecontraceptivescorrectly,buthavingababyisnormal.Atleast,that’smycurrentmantra.
“FuckCarinandhercoat.She’shere.Starttalking.”
Itakeadeepbreath,andbecausethere’snoeasywaytosayit,Ijustspititout.“I’mpregnant.”
Carinfreezeswithhercoathalfwaydownherarms.
Hope’smouthfallsopen.
Withoneofhertrappedarms,CarinnudgesHope.“IsitAprilFool’sDay?”sheasks,nottakinghereyesoffme.
EvenassheanswersCarin,Hopealsokeepshergazepinnedonmyface.“Idon’tthinkso,butI’mhavingmydoubts.”
“It’snojoke.”Isipmymilk.“I’malmostfivemonthsalong.”
“Fivemonths?”Hopescreamssoloudthateveryheadinthedinerswivelstowardus.Leaningacrossthetable,sherepeatsthewords,thistimeatawhisper.“Fivemonths?”
Inod,butbeforeIcanaddanythingelse,Hannaharrivestotakeourorders.HopeandCarin’sappetitesareapparentlyruinedbymynews,butI’mhungry,soIorderaturkeysandwich.
“Areyoushowingatall?”Hopestilllooksataddazed.
“Alittlebit.Icanstillwearstretchypants.Noskinnyjeans,though.”
“Haveyoubeentothedoctor?”sheasks.Besideher,Carinremainssilent.
“Yes.Ihaveinsurancethroughwork.Everythinglooksgood.”
“Wereyouplanningtotellusafteryouhadthebaby?”Carinblurtsout,hurtcoloringherwords.
“Iwasn’tevensureIwasgoingtokeepit,”Iadmit.“AndonceIdecided,Iwas…embarrassed.Ididn’tknowhowtotellyouguys.”
“Youknow,it’snottoolate,”Hopesayswithanencouragingsmile.
Carinbrightensatthethought.“Right.Like,youcanstillgettheAanytimeupuntilthethirdtrimester.”
Theirlackofsupportstings,butsomehowitmakesmeallthemoreresolute.MywholelifehasbeenaboutshowingdoubtersIcansucceed.
“No,”Isayfirmly.“ThisiswhatIwant.”
“WhataboutHarvard?”Hopedemands.
“I’mstillgoing.Nothing’schanged.”
MyfriendsexchangealookthatsaysI’mhopelessandwhichoneofthemisgoingtobreakthenewstome.IguessHopewins,becauseshesays,“Youreallythinknothingisgoingtochange?You’rehavingababy.”
“Iknow.Buttherearemillionsofwomenwhohavebabieseverydayandstillmanagetobefunctioningadults.”
“It’sgoingtobesohardforyou.Who’sgoingtotakecareofthebabywhileyou’reinclass?Howareyougoingtostudy?”Shereachesacrossthetabletosqueezemylimphand.“Ijustdon’twantyoutofeellikeyou’remakingamistake.”
Myfacegrowshard.“I’mstillgoingtoHarvard.”
Idon’tknowifit’smytoneormyexpressionthatconvincesthemthatmymindismadeup,buteitherwaytheygetthemessage.Despitethelingeringskepticismontheirfaces,theymoveon.
“Isitaboyorgirl?”Carinasks.“Wait—Tucker’sthedad,right?”
“OfcourseTuckeristhedad,andIdon’tknow.Wehaven’thadtheultrasoundyet.”
“Whatdidhesaywhenyoutoldhim?”Hopebuttsin.
ThatI’mnotalone.“He’sokaywithit.Hedidn’tburstintotearsorshoutinanger.Hedidn’tflipoveratableorrageabouttheunfairnessofit.HejustheldmeandtoldmeIwasn’talone.Ithinkhe’sabitscared,buthe’sgoingtobewithmeeverystepoftheway.”Iswallowthelumpinmythroat.“AndasmuchasIwanttoprotecthim,I’mgoingtoholdontohishandforaslongaspossible.It’ssodamnselfishofme,butrightnowtheideaoffacingthefuturealonekeepsmeupatnight.”
“That’sgood,atleast,”Carinsaysgently.
“He’samazing.Idon’tdeservehim.”God,ifmybestfriendsarestrugglingwiththis,Ican’tevenimaginewhat’sgoingoninTucker’shead.
Hopefrowns.“Whatmakesyousaythat?It’snotlikeyougotpregnantalone.”
“Hedidn’thaveachoice.”
“Bullshit.Everytimeyouhavesex,there’sarisk.Noformofcontraceptionisahundredpercenteffective,notevenavasectomy.Youwanttogofortheride,youhavetopaytheprice.”
“That’sasteepprice.”
Shewavesherhand.“Whichyou’repayingtoo.”
“Canwestopbeingsodepressing?”Carinpipesup.“Let’stalkabouttheimportantstuff.Whenareyougettingtheultrasound?Iwanttostartbuyingbabythings.”
IopenmymouthtosayIdon’tknowwhenwe’reinterruptedbyCarin’sphone.“Shit.”Shedigsitoutandslidesoutoftheseat.“It’smyadvisor.I’vegottotakethis.”
Asshedisappearstowardthebathroom,Hopeturnsherworriedgazetowardme.“Damn,B.Ireallyhopeyouknowwhatyou’redoing.”
“SodoI.”Iknowshelovesmeandthat’swhyshe’ssoconcerned,butlikeCarin,Idon’twanttodwellonthenegatives.Mymindismadeupandallthissecond-guessingisonlygoingtomakemefeelbad.
“Ionlywantyoutobehappy,”shesayssoftly.
“Iknow.”Thistimeit’smyturntoreachacrossthetable.“I’mscared,butthisiswhatIwant.Ipromise.”
Shegripsmyhandhard.“Okay.I’mhereforyouthen.Whateveryouneed.”
CarincomesbackandpushesHopeover.“I’mgoingtolearnhowtoknit,”sheannounces.
“Knit?”Iechowryly.
“Yeah,babybooties.You’refivemonthsalong?Thatgivesmeaboutfourmonthstolearnhowtoknit,sobepreparedtobeamazedandawedbymynewskill.”
Ifinallycrackasmile.“Considermeprepared.”
Inmorewaysthanone,buthey,I’vegotmyfriendsandI’vegotTucker,whichismorethanIthoughtI’deverhaveandmorethanIprobablydeserve.
ButI’lltakeit.25
Tucker
Thekitchenissosilent,IfeellikeI’minchurch.NotthatI’vebeentochurchoften.MomdraggedmetoafewSundaysermonswhenIwasakid,untilfinallyadmittingthatshe’dwayrathersleepinontheweekends.Iwastotallyonboardwiththatplan.
Butrightnow,it’snotGodandPastorDavepassingjudgmentonme—it’smyclosestfriends.
“Whythehelldidn’tyoutellussooner?”Garrett.
“You’reseriouslykeepingthiskid?”Logan.
“SabrinafuckingJames?”Dean.
ItightenmygriparoundmybeerbottleandscowlatDean.Iblamehimforthislittlepowwow.TwosecondsafterItoldhimandAlliethenews,he’dsentanSOStoGarrettandLoganorderingthemtogettheirasseshome.They’dbeenatthedormswiththeirgirlfriends,andnowIfeellikeajerkforspoilingtheirnights.
“Guys,whydon’tyoulethimtalkinsteadofshoutingquestionsathim?”Alliespeaksupinacautioustone.
Icantellshedoesn’twanttobehereforthis,butDeandraggedherintothekitchenwithus,latchedhishandontohers,andhasn’tletgosince.Idon’tgetwhyhe’ssopissedaboutthis.It’snotlikehe’stheoneabouttobecomeafather.AndIknowforafacthe’snotstillintoSabrina,becausehelooksatAllielikeshehungthedamnmoon.ThetwoofthemhitarockypatchafterBeau’sdeath,butthelastcoupleofmonthsthey’vebeendisgustinglyinlove.
“Tuck?”Allieprompts,tuckingherblondehairbehindherear.
Itakeaterseswigofmybeer.“Idon’thavemuchelsetosay.SabrinaandIarehavingakid.Endofstory.”
“Howlonghaveyoubeenseeingher?”Logandemands.
“Awhile.”Theirfrownstellmetheydon’tlikemyresponse,soIadd,“EarlyNovember.”
Loganlooksstartled.Garrettdoesn’t,whichmakesmenarrowmyeyesathiminquestion.
“Isuspected,”headmits.
Theotherguysswiveltheirheadstowardhiminaccusation.“Whatdoyoumean,yoususpected?”Loganechoes.
“ItmeansIsuspected.”Garrettglancesacrossthetableatme.“SawyouholdingherhandatBeau’smemorial.”
WhenaflashofguiltpassesthroughDean’seyes,Iknowhe’sthinkingabouthowhegotpiss-drunkinhisroominsteadofattendingthememorialserviceforoneofhisbestfriends.
Loganturnsbacktome.“Soit’sseriouswithyoutwo?”
Laughtersputtersout.“We’rehavingababy.Ofcourseit’sserious.”
OratleastI’mplanningforittobe.Sabrinastillneedstime,though.Timetofullygetahandleonthispregnancystuff.Timetolowerherguardandrealizeshecantrustme.Timetolowerthatguardevenmoreandrealizethatshelovesme.BecauseIknowshedoes.She’sjusttooscaredtoadmitoracknowledgeit,tomeandtoherself.
“Whydidn’tshegetanabortion?”
Dean’squestionelicitsagaspfromAllie,frownsfromtheguys,andanangryscowlfromme.
“Becausewedecidedtokeepit,”Isayharshly.
Everyoneflinches.I’mprettysurethey’veneverheardmesnapatanyonebefore.UsuallyIdon’t,butDeanistreadingdangerouslyclosetoI’m-going-to-beat-him-senselessterritory.Igetthathedoesn’tlikeSabrina,buthewilldamnwellshowherrespect,evenwhenshe’snotintheroom.
“Hey.Let’srelax,okay?”Garrettproveswhyhe’sourteamcaptainbyspeakinginacalm,pacifyingvoice.
Though,Irealize,he’snotDean’scaptainanymore,becauseDeangotkickedofftheteambackinJanuary.Ithinkfailingthatdrugtestwasoneofthecatalystsforhisdragginghimselfbacktothelandofthesober.That,andAllie.
“ThisisTuck’slife,”Garrettgoeson.“Wehavenorighttojudgehisdecisions.Ifthisiswhathewants,thenwe’regoingtosupporthim.Right?”
Afterabeat,Logannods.“Right.”
Dean’sjawtightens.“Thisisgoingtoruinyourlife,man.”
It’sgettingharderandhardertocontroltheangersimmeringinmygut.“Well,it’smylifetoruin,”Isaycoldly.“Youdon’tgetasayinit.”
“WhataboutHarvard?”hepushes.“Isshestillgonnago?”
“Yes.”
Heshakeshishead.“Doesshegethowtime-consuminglawschoolis?”
“Ofcourse.”
Anothershakeofhishead.“Soshe’sdumpingalltheresponsibilitiesonyou?”
IinstantlycometoSabrina’sdefense.“No,we’resharingtheresponsibilities.”
Morehead-shaking.
SweartoGod,ifhedoesn’tstopdoingthat,I’mgoingtoriphisblondheadrightoffhisneck.
“Dean,”Alliewarns.
“I’msorry,butIthinkthisiscrazy,”heannounces.“Thatgirliscolderthanice.She’sjudgmental.She’s—”
“Themotherofmychild,”Igrowl.
Deangrowlsback.“Fine,whatever.Goaheadanddestroyyourlife.WhatdoIcare?”
Mymouthfallsopenashemarchesoutofthekitchen.Seriously?
There’salongsilence,andthenAlliegetsuptoo.“I’llgotalktohim,”shesayswithasigh.“Ignorehim,Tuck.He’sjustbeingadickhead.”
Idon’tanswer.I’mtoopissedtotalk.
“Forwhatit’sworth,youhavemysupport.Ithinkyou’regoingtomakeagreatdad.”Herhandrestslightlyonmyshoulderbeforesheheadstothedoor.
Onceshe’sgone,Istareatmyremainingfriends.“Youmeantwhatyousaid?Ihaveyoursupportonthis?”
Theybothnod.Logan’slipsaretwitching,though,asifhe’stryingnottolaugh.
“What’ssofunny?”Iaskwarily.
“Dude.Doyouevenrealizeallthegrossthingscomingyourway?”
Iblinkinconfusion.
“GolookupchildbirthvideosonYouTube,”headvises.“Wehadtowatchsomeforthewomen’sstudiesclassItookfreshmanyear.They’regoddamnhorrifying.”Loganshudders.“Didyouknowthateightypercentofchicksshitonthetable?”
Garrettsnorts.“You’retotallymakingupthatstat.”
“Okay,maybenoteightypercent.Butitfuckinghappens,andit’sgross.Oh,andtheplacenta?Ahugebloodysacthatjustdropsonthefloorafterthekidpopsout?Afteryouseethat,Iguaranteeyou’llneverwanttostickyourdickinthereagain.”
“IsuddenlyfeelreallysorryforGrace,”Garrettremarks.
“I’mgoingtopushforascheduledC-section,”Logansayshaughtily,butthetwinkleinhiseyetellsmehe’sonlykidding.YoucanalwayscountonLogantolightenthemood.
“Look,”Isay,“Iknowthisisahugeshock.Andtrustme,Istillhaven’twrappedmyheadarounditeither.ButIlo—careaboutSabrina.”IcorrectmyselfbeforetheL-wordleavesmymouth.NowayamIsayingittomyfriendsbeforeIsayittoher.“Deanisallwrongabouther.She’sdriven,yeah,butshe’snotcoldorjudgmental.She’sgotthebiggestheartofanyoneI’veevermet.She’s…prettyfuckingamazing.”
Alumpobstructsmythroat.Damnit.IwishSabrinacouldseeherselfthroughmyeyes.Shethinksshe’sdraggingmedownintothegutterwithher,butshe’swrong.She’sgivingmetheonethingI’vealwayswanted—afamily.Sure,it’shappeningearlierthanIplanned,butlifedoesn’talwaysfollowaschedule
“Soyou’rereallydoingthis,huh?”Garrettsoundsabitawed.
“Yup.”
“DoIgettobethegodfather?”
“Fuckthat!”Loganobjects.“He’spickingme.Obvs.”
“Bullshit.I’mclearlythebetterchoice.”
“You’reclearlythebiggeregomaniac,that’swhatyouare.”
Isnicker.“KeepthisupandI’mpickingneitherofyou.Butit’sgoodtoknowyou’rebotheagerforthejob.IthinkI’llcomeupwithsomekindofcompetition,makeyoutwobattleitout.”
“I’llwin,”Garrettsaysimmediately.
“Fuckthat!”
They’restillarguingaboutitasIduckoutofthekitchen.Deanmight’vebeenajackassaboutmybignews,butit’sarelieftoknowthatatleastIhaveGandLogan’ssupport.
I’msureashellgoingtoneedit.
*
I’mhere.Whereuat?
Fitzy’stextpopsupasIparkinthelotinfrontofMalone’s.Idroveherestraightfromthehouse,becausetellingmyroommatesaboutthebabyisn’ttheonlyitemontonight’sagenda.Istillneedtofindaplacetolive,andI’mreallyhopingFitzcanhelpmewiththat.
Iquicklytypearesponse.
Me:Justgothere.Walkinginnow.
Him:Cornerboothintheback.
Puttingawaymyphone,Ilockthetruckandheadintothebar.FitzyissippingabeerwhenIslideontotheboothseatacrossfromhim.He’sorderedoneformetoo,whichIgratefullyaccept.
“Hey.Thanksformeetingup.”
Heshrugs.“Noprob.Iwasgettingstircrazyanyway.Myapartmentistoofuckingsmall.”
Huh.Ididn’texpectanopeningthisearlyintheconversation,butdamnedifI’mgoingtopassitup.“That’sactuallywhatIwantedtotalktoyouabout.”
Fitzyarchesabrow.“Mysmallapartment?”
“Sortof.”Itracemyfingeroverthelabelofmybeer.“YousaidyourleaseisendinginMay,right?”
“Yeah.Why?”
“Yougivenanythoughttowhatyou’redoingaboutthat?Areyousigninganotherlease?Movingsomewhereelse?”
Agrintugsonthecornersofhismouth.“What’swiththeTwentyQuestions?”
“Justtryingtofigureoutwhereyourheadisat.”Itakeanothersip.“I’mnotgoingbacktoTexasaftergraduation.”
Hepeersatmeovertheneckofhisbottle.“Sincewhen?”
“SinceI’mhavingakidinAugust.”
Loudchokingnoisesbreakoutfromhissideofthebooth.Iprobablyshouldn’thavesprungthatonhimwhilehewasmid-sip.IfeelbadasIwatchhimcoughwildly.
“Y-you—”Hecoughsagain.Clearshisthroat.“You’rehavingakid?”
“Yeah.Sabrina’spregnant.”
“Oh.”Onetattooedarmliftssohecanrubhistemple.“Shit.Well.Congrats,Iguess?”
Anunwittingsmiletouchesmylips.“Thanks.”
Hestudiesmecarefully.“Youseemcoolaboutthis.”
“That’sbecauseIam,”Isaysimply.“Butyeah,IdefinitelyneedtofindaplaceinBoston.AndIrememberyoumentionedyouwouldn’tbeagainstlivinginthecity,so…”Ishrug.“Figureditwouldn’thurttoaskifyou’reinthemarketforaroommate.”
“Ah.”Regretflickersinhisexpression.“Idecidednottodothat.IthoughtI’dbecoolwiththecommute,butItalkeditthroughwithHollisandheremindedmewhatabitchitistodrivefromBostontoHastingsinthewinter,soI’mgoingtostickaroundhereformysenioryear.”
Iswallowmydisappointment.“Oh,okay.Thatmakessense.”
“Stupidquestion,but…whyaren’tyoumovinginwithSabrina?”
Stupidquestion,no.Goodquestion?Hellyes.
“We’renotthereyet,”Ireply,becausethealternativeisfuckingembarrassing.Becauseshedoesn’twanttobewithme.
“Okay.Well.Ifyou’reseriousaboutlivinginBoston,Iactuallydoknowsomeonewhoneedsaroommate.”
Ibrightenup.“Who?”
“You’renotgoingtolikeit,”hewarns.
“Who?”Ipress.
“Hollis’brother.Hislandlordhikeduphisrentandhe’snotsurehecankeeptheplaceonhisown.”
Awfuck.BrodyHollis,kingofthedouches?ThemanwhoputsthebroinBrody?I’drather—no.There’snoI’drather.I’mnotexactlyswimminginoptionsatthemoment.Brodymightbe…fratty,buthisapartmentwasbigandcleanandhadtwobedrooms.
Andit’sonlyafive-minutedrivefromSabrina’shouse.
AsmuchasIhatetheidea,Ican’tdenythatit’sagood,convenientoption.
Itakeanotherlongsipofmybeer.ThenIsay,“CanIhavehisnumber?”26
Sabrina
“I’mnervous.”IwhisperthewordsinTucker’searsothattheotherexpectantmomsinthewaitingroomwon’thearme.Theyallhavethishappyexcitedglowtotheirfaces,andIdon’twanttoruinitforthem.JustbecauseI’mabasketcasedoesn’tmeanIshouldfreakanyoneelseout.
ButI’mfreaked.ThisisthefirstappointmentthatTuckhascomealongfor,andit’stheonethatwillrevealthesexofthebaby—ifwecanreachanagreementaboutit.Iwanttoknow.Hewantstobesurprised.Andthisistheperfectillustrationofthekindofpeopleweare.
I’mtheonewholikestobeincontrol.IfIknowthesexofthebaby,Icanplanforit.Buycutelittlegirliestufforcutelittleboystuff.Comeupwithnames.
Tuckerisago-with-the-flowguy.Hethinksweshouldjustbuyyellowclothesandbedonewithit.
“There’snothingtobenervousabout.”Hesqueezesmyhandandleansintokissmycheek.
Igiveaninvoluntaryshiver.HislipsaresoftandwarmandIwanttofeelthemagainstmymouth,notmycheek.Iwanttokisshisneckandsuckonituntilhemoans.Iwanttoslidemyhandinsidehispants,griphiscock,andstrokehimoffuntilhecomesallovermyhand.
DidImentionI’mhornyasfuck?
Idon’tknowifit’salltheincreasedsensitivityorthethreeorsomonthsofsexualdormancy,butholyhelldoIneedtogetlaid.Eventheaccidentalbrushofmyownhandagainstmyboobsgetsmehotandbothered.Ireadthatwomenareusuallysuperarousedduringthefirsttrimester,butmysexdrivedidn’tkickintooverdriveuntilthesecondone.EverytimeIseeTucker,Iwanttoriphisclothesoff.
Andheknowsit.
“Youreadytobemorethanfriendsyet?”hemurmurs.
Iglareathim.“I’mtellingyouI’mnervousandyou’rethinkingaboutsex?”
“No,you’rethinkingaboutsex.”Hegrins.“Youreyesarebeggingmetofuckyou.”
Ihastilyglancearoundtomakesurenobodyheardthat,buttheotherpregnantwomenareeithertalkingtotheirpartnersorhavetheirheadsburiedinbabymagazines.
“Nope,”Ilie.“Myeyesaretoobusyworryingaboutwhatthey’regoingtoseeontheultrasound.Ireadthatwemightbeabletoseethebaby’sface,andthefingersandtoes.”Panicfluttersinmybellyagain.“Whatifitonlyhasthreefingers,Tuck?Whatifitdoesn’thaveanose?”Mybreathinggrowslabored.“OhmyGod,whatifwehaveamutantbaby?”
Tuckerhunchesoverandstartstoshake.Ittakesmeasecondtorealizehe’sshudderingwithsilent,hystericallaughter.Wonderful.Thefatherofmychildislaughingatme.
“Ohhell.Goddamn,darlin’.”He’swheezingasheliftshishead.“IknewIshouldn’thaveletyouwatchTheHillsHaveEyeslastnight.”
“Therewasnothingelseon,”Iprotest.AndIdidn’twantyoutoleave
I’msopathetic.Thispastweek,I’vebeenfindingreasonstohaveTuckerover.Like,“weneedtoresearchbreathingclasses,”and,“mybackiskillingme—doyoufeellikecomingbytorubit?”and,“maybeIshouldhaveawaterbirth.”Heurgedmetoreconsiderthatlastone,butIwasn’tseriousaboutittobeginwith.Theideaofmypregnantasssubmergedinatubfullofwaterandchildbirthfluidsmakesmewanttothrowup.
Butbecausehe’sTucker,he’sdriventoBostoneverytimeI’vecalled.Inthebackofmymind,I’mscaredI’mtakingadvantageofhim,buthekeepsassuringmethatthisiswhathesignedupfor.
“We’renotgoingtohaveamutantbaby.”Hischuckleshavesubsided,andhe’sholdingmyhandagain.“Heorsheisgoingtobeperfect.Ipromise.”
Inodweakly.
“SabrinaJames?”avoicecallsfromthedoorway.
“That’sme.”IshoottomyfeetsofastthatIwobbleforamoment.Tuckersteadiesmebyplacingonemusculararmaroundmyshoulders.
“That’sus,”hecorrects.
Wefollowthepink-scrubs-wearingnursedownawide,well-lithallway.Sheguidesusintoanexamroomandinstructsmetosituponthetable.Theultrasoundmachineisalreadysetupbesideit,andmyheartdoesanexcitedlittleflip.
“Ireallywanttoknow,”Iblurtoutoncethenurseleavestheroom.
Tuckerpouts.“Butthinkabouthowexcitingitwillbewhenthedoctorshoutsout‘It’saboy!’or‘It’sagirl!’”
Thisishisgo-toargument.Butfrankly,Idon’tneedanymoreexcitementinmyliferightnow.Myhomesituationisalreadywaytoocharged,whatwithNanalecturingmedailyaboutgettingknockedup,chastisingmeforkeepingthebaby,andconstantlyremindingmethatshe’snotdishingoutfreechildcarejustbecauseI’mhergranddaughter.Andofcourse,thenthere’sRay,withhissnidecommentsaboutmypromiscuity,myfatstomach,andmystupidityfornotknowinghowtouseacondom.
Ray,Idon’tgiveashitabout.Nana…well,I’msureshe’llcomearoundoncesheholdshergreat-granddaughterorgrandsoninherarms.She’salwaysbeenasuckerforbabies.
“Iwanttoknownow,”Iwhine,notcaringthatIsoundlikeafive-year-oldthrowingatantrum.
“Howaboutthis?We’llRock,Paper,Scissorsforit.”
Yeah,we’regoingtomakegreatparents,allright.
“Fine.”Icrackmyknuckles,whichmakeshimsnicker.“Ready?”
“Ready.”
Wecountinunison.Onthree,werevealourhands.Hedidpaper.Ididrock.
“Iwin,”hesayssmugly.
“Sorry,baby,butyoulose.”
“Papercoversrock!”
Ismirk.“Rockweighsdownthepapersoitcan’tflyaway.Ittrapsit.”
Aloudsighfillstheroom.“I’mnotgoingtowinonthis,amI?”
“Nope.”ButhelookssocuterightnowthatIofferacompromise.“Howaboutthis?Youcanleavetheroomwhilethedoctortellsme,andIswearIwon’tgiveitaway.I’llhideallmybabypurchasesinmyclosetsoyoucan’tseewhatI’mbuying.”
“Deal.”
We’reinterruptedbythearrivalofthetechnician,whogreetsmewarmlyandthenordersmetopullupmyloose-fittingshirtsoshecanslathercoldgooallovermybelly.
“Isyourbladderfull?”sheasks.
“Mybladderisalwaysfull,”Ianswerdryly.
Thatgetsmealaugh.“Don’tworry.Thiswon’ttakelong.Soonyou’llbeabletopeetoyourheart’scontent.”
“Awesome.Livingthedream.”
I’vealreadyhadanultrasound,soI’mnotconcernedwhenthetechshutsuponcewegetgoing.Everynowandthenshepointssomethingout,likehowthebaby’sspineresemblesateenystringofpearls,orhow—thanktheLord—we’vegottenfingersandtentoes.
Tuckerstandsthereinsilentwonder,watchingthegrainyimagesonthescreen.Atonepointhebendsdownandkissesmyforehead,andribbonsofwarmthunfurlinsidemybody.I’mgladhe’shere.Ireallyam.
“Okay.Alldone.”Afterwipingthegoooffmybelly,thetechpressesabuttonandthemachinemakesawhirringsoundasitspitsoutapictureoftheultrasound.Shedoesn’thanditoveryet,insteadsaying,“Thedoctorwillbeinshortlytotalktoyou.Ifyouneedtoemptyyourbladder,thebathroomistwodoorsdown,onyourleft.”
TuckerchucklesasIinstantlyshootoffthetable.“I’llberightback,”Itellhim,duckingoutoftheroom.
Idomybusiness,washmyhands,andwhenIstepbackintotheexamroom,DoctorLauraisalreadythere,chattingwithTuck.WhenIfirstmether,Iwasn’tsurewhattothink.Callingadoctorbytheirfirstnameisweirdtome.IguessmaybeIthoughtitwasasignofunprofessionalismorsomething,butthewomanseemstoknowherstuff.She’sinhermid-thirtiesandtalksinano-nonsensewaythatIappreciate.
“SoDaddyheresaysyou’vebeenarguingaboutwhethertofindoutthesexofthebaby,”sheteaseswhenIwalkin.
“Daddyhereisbeingstubborn,”Igrumble.
Tucker’sjawdrops.“Nuh-uh.Mommyisthestubbornonewhodoesn’tlikesurprises.”
Isweepahandovertheprotrudingbellythathaspoppedoutinabigwayinthelastmonth.“Thiswasn’tsurpriseenoughforyou?”Iaskprimly.
DoctorLaurasnortsbeforeglancingdownatthefilefolderinherhand.“Well,wegotaveryclearimagefromtheultrasound.SinceSabrinaismypatientandyou’renot,John,I’mgoingtotellherthesexifthat’swhatshewants.”
“Traitor,”hesayswithamockglare.
“Iwanttoknow,”ItellthedoctorbeforecockingmyheadatTucker.“Youmayleavetheroomnow,Daddy.”
“Naah.I’vechangedmymind.Iwanttoknow.”
Ieyehimanxiously.“Areyousure?”
Herespondswithanearnestnod.
“Allright,then.Hitus,”Itellthedoc.
Hereyestwinkle.“Congratulations.You’rehavingababygirl.”
Igasp,alltheoxygensuckingintomylungsandthengettingtrappedthere.Mypulsespeedsup,andit’slikemysurroundings,myentireworld,comeintosharperfocus.Colorsseembrighterandtheairfeelslighterandthiswholeexperience—thislifegrowinginsideofme—suddenlyfeelsreal
“We’rehavingagirl,”Ibreathe,turningtoTucker.
Hisgazeisalmostreverent.“We’rehavingagirl,”hewhispers.
DoctorLauraletsusmarvelinsilenceforafewsecondsbeforeclearingherthroat.“Anyway,everythinglooksgreat.Thebabyishealthy,theheartbeatisstrongandsteady.Keeptakingyourprenatalvitamins,trynottopushyourselftoohard,andI’llseeyouagaininfourweeks.”
Atthedoor,shepausesandwinksatTuckeroverhershoulder.“Asfortheothermatteryouwereaskingabout,allsystemsareago.”
Aftershe’sgone,Ifrownathim.“Whatothermatter?”
Heshrugs,theepitomeofmystery.“Justadadquestion.”Hereachesformyhand.“Comeon,let’sgetgoing.IwanttoshowyousomethingbeforeIdropyouoffathome.”
Myforeheadcreases.“Showmewhat?”
“It’sasurprise.”
“Didn’twejustestablishIdon’tlikesurprises?”
Hechuckles.“Trustme,you’lllikethisone.”27
Sabrina
“Whatarewedoinghere?”Iaskfifteenminuteslater,examiningthestreetTuckerhadjustturnedonto.Thisneighborhoodissketchy.Imean,it’sonlyafive-minutedrivefrommyplace,soofcourseit’ssketchy.
“Patience,”hechides,parkingatthecurbinfrontofaten-storybrickbuilding.
Iwillupsomeofthatpatienceandwaitforhimtoopenmydoor.Thisguyrefusestoletmeopendoors.It’slikehedoesn’tunderstandthatIhavehands.
Whenmyflatslandonthepavement,Tuckertakesmyhandandleadsmetotheentranceofthebuilding.Ifightbackamillionquestions,becauseIknowhewon’tanswerthem,andobedientlyfollowhimintoasmalllobbywithanevensmallerelevator.Wetakeitallthewaytothetenthfloor,walkdownashorthall,andstopinfrontofapartment10C.
Tuckerpullsakeyringoutofhispocketandunlocksthedoor.
“Wholiveshere?”Idemand.
“Ido.”
“What?Sincewhen?”
“Sincethreedaysago,”headmits.“Well,technicallyIdon’tmoveinuntiltheendoftheweek,butthreedaysagowaswhenwereachedanagreement.”
“We?”
“MeandBrodyHollis,ateammate’sbrother.”
“Oh.”I’msoconfused,becausethisentireweekhedidn’toncementionmovingtoBoston.“WhataboutyourhouseinHastings?”
“TheleaseisupinJune.Iwould’vehadtomoveoutanyway.”Heshrugs.“ItmademoresensetofindaplacehereinBoston.ThatwayIcanbeclosetoyouandthebaby.”Heholdsoutahand.“Doyouwantthegrandtour?”
“Um.Sure.”I’mstillabitstunned.
Tuckerlaceshisfingersthroughmineandleadsmethroughtheapartment.Whiletheexteriorofthebuildingiskindofcrappy,theinteriorissurprisinglynice.Theapartmenthasgreatoutdoorlight,pinefloors,andanopenlayout.Downthehallarethreedoorsthatleadtothebathroomandtwobedrooms.
“Ihaven’tbroughtanyofmyshitoveryet,”hesays.
Wewalkintoalarge,emptybedroomwithahugewindowthatletsinsomuchsunlightIwishIhadmysunglasseswithme.
“No,really?”Itease,wanderingaroundthebareroom.Iapproachthewindowandpeerout.“Ohnice.Yourroom’sgotthefireescape.”
“Andevennicer—itleadsrightuptoaroofpatio.Onlythetenthfloorapartmentshaveaccesstoit.There’sabarbecueupthere,andlotsofpatiofurniture.”
“Oooh,that’sawesome.”
Weheadbacktothekitchen,whereTuckeropensthefridgetosurveythecontents.“Youwantsomethingtodrink?There’sOJ,milk,andwater.Andashittonofbeer,butyoudon’tgettodrinkthat.”
“I’lltakeawater.”Ashepullsapitcheroutandpoursmeaglass,Irunahandoverthespotlesscountertops.“It’ssupercleaninhere.”
“Yup.OneofBrody’sredeemingqualitiesisthathelikesthingsclean.Youknow,becausechicksareturnedoffbyclothesonthefloor.”
“He’snotwrong.”
“Thatdude’sentiredecisiontreeconsistsof‘willthisgetmelaid?’”
Igrin.“Predictabilitycanbenice.”
“MindifIhaveabeer?”
“Knockyourselfout.Whereishe,anyway?Atwork?”
“Yup.Heworksnine-to-fiveatMorganStanley.He’sinfinancialplanning,which,fromallIcanfigureout,isbasicallysellingannuitiestooldpeople.”
IsiponmywaterwhileTuckercracksopenabeerforhimself.Onthecounternearthemicrowaveareabunchofcolorfulbrochuresstackedontopofinch-thickbinders.
“Whatarethese?”Itracemyfingersoverthetoponethatsays‘Fitness.YourTime.HerTime.AnyTime.’
“Moreprospectuses.Orisitprospectii?Ipickedthisstuffuptheotherdayduringabusinessresearchexpedition.”Hepawsthroughthestack,flickingonetowardme.“Thisisforawomen’swaxingandlasertreatmentbusiness.Hollissaidthatit’slikebeingagynowithouthavingtogothroughmedschool.Pussyfordays.”
Mylipstwitch.“Heknowsthatjustbecausehe’swaxingagirl’sprivatepartsdoesn’tmeanhegetstotouchthemagain,right?”
“No,I’mprettysurehethinksitgiveshimafreepasstofuckthem.”
“Lovely.”
Ileafthroughacoupleofglossypicturesoflonghairlesslegssetnexttoboldtypethatdeclaresthisparticularlaseristhenextbestthing.Hmmm.IfTuckerbuysalaserhair-removalsalon,maybehe’doffermetheservicesforfree.Already,mygrowingbellyisstartingtomakesimpletasksdifficult.IhavetositdowntoshavebecauseI’mafraidoftippingoverdoingmyone-legged,flamingogroomingdanceintheshower.
Tuckerflipsoveranotherbrochure.“Thisoneistosellshovels.Doortodoor.”
Igrimace.“Thatsoundsterrible.There’smoneyinthat?”
“Accordingtothefranchisedocuments,yep,butIhavemydoubts.”
“Whatelsedoyouhave?”
“Sextoys,laundromat,fitnessclubs,abazillionfoodoptions.Fastcasualisalltherage.”
“Yousoundenthusedbyawholebigzeroofthem.”
“Iknow.”Hescoopsthepamphletsintoapileandtossesthemintoarecyclingbin.“Maybeafranchiseisn’tforme.”
Inibbleonmybottomlip,hesitatingforamoment.“Whatwouldyoubedoingifitweren’tforthis?”Icirclemyhandaroundmybelly.
“Stringingmyselfupbymytie,”hesays.“Momwantedmetobuythelocalrealtor’sbusiness—”
Ibitemylipevenharder.
“—butI’dratherbewaxingsomeguy’sasscrackthansellinghousesinPatterson,soyoucangetthatanxiouslookoffyourface.”
Hisgazestraystomybellyagain.Sincetheultrasound,hecan’tstopstaringatit.I’mnotmuchbetter.Ialwayshavemyhandoverthecurveorunderit,andnowitfeelsevenmorespecialbecauseIknowmybabygirlisrightbeneathmypalm.
Iclimbontothecounterstoolandgestureforhimtocomecloser.“Wannatouch?”
“Always.”Heswingsaroundthecountertosquatdowninfrontofme,hishandsframingthebumponeitherside.“Heygorgeous.Daddy’shere.”Hepeersupatme,auburnhairtousled,light-browneyesfullofaffection.“Hasshebeenkickingatall?”
“Some.”Ipullhishandtothesidewherethebabyoftentriestokickherwayoutofmyuterus.“Tryhere.”
Wewait,holdingourbreath.Tuck’shandpressesfirmlyagainstme,andthewarmthofhispalmsinksintomyskin,spreadinguntilallmynerveendingsbegintotingle.
Inappropriate!He’scommuningwithhischild,nottryingtofondleyou
Except…itfeelssogood.TuckerandIhaven’tslepttogetherinmonths.Andlately,fuckinghimisaboutallIcanthinkabout.
Sure,it’swhatgotmeintothisconditioninthefirstplace,butatnight,whenthebabyiskeepingmeawake,Irememberhowhefeltbetweenmylegs.Hishair-roughenedthighsscratchingagainstmyskinasheplungedinside.Irememberthethicknessofhiscockandthedeliciouswayhe’dstretchmewhenheentered.Irememberhisteethonmybreast,scrapingdownwarduntilhecaughtanippleinhismouth.Irememberitallanditmakesmybreathshortandmyskinsosensitive.
Thefingersonmystomachtighten.“Sabrina,”hesaysgruffly.“What’reyouthinkingabout,darlin’?”
Myunfocusedgazezerosinonhisface.AsIlickmylips,Iremembertheheavyweightofhisshaftonmytongue.“You.”
Hisbreathhitches.“Measyourfriendormeassomethingelse?”
“Somethingelse,”Iwhisper.
Heslowlydragshishandsdownmystomachtothetopsofmythighs.Mylegspartinvoluntarily,andhisthumbsgrazethewaistbandofmyyogapants.
“Bespecific,”hewhispersback.
I’msuddenlytransportedtothefirstnightwespenttogether,whenheloungedlikeasultaninhistrucktellingme—no,orderingme—tocometakewhatIwant.
“I’mthinkingaboutyourcockinmymouth.”
Hisfingersdigintomythighs.“Really?BecauseI’mthinkinghowmuchIwanttoshoveyourpantsdownandlickyourpussyuntilallthatworryisdrivenoutofyourhead.”
Saidpussyclenchesathiswords.“I’m…damnit,I’mfatnow.”
“No.You’reperfect.”Thenhesurgestohisfeet,liftingmeupagainsthim.
“Wait.”Isquirminhisgrasp.“I’mtooheavy.”
“You’refullofbullshit,”heretortsandstridestothelivingroom.Withoutreleasingme,helaysmedownontheblackleathersofa.
Isqueakinprotest.“Thisisyournewroommate’scouch!”
“Whatmynewroommatedoesn’tknowwon’thurthim.Nowstrip.I’mhungry,woman.”
Allthebloodinmybodypulsesunderhisheatedgaze.Westareateachotherforamoment,andthenwe’rebothhurryingoutofourclothes.Hisshirtcomesoffandistossedacrosstheroom.Myshirtandpantsfollow.Hisjeansandboxerbriefsarenext.WhenIremovemybra,hecurses.
“Holyfuck.”There’sanoteofaweinhisvoiceashestalksforwardtojoinmeonthecouch.Hishardcockbobswitheachstephetakes.
“Iknow.They’vegrown.”
Hekneelsbetweenmylegs,reachinguptocupmyheavyboobs.“They’refuckingamazing.”
Ishiverwhenhisthumbsrubacrossmyerectnipples.“Andverysensitive,”Ipantout.
Anevilglintlightshiseyes.“ThinkyoucancomeifIsuckonthem?”
“Don’tknow.”Idragahandthroughhishair.“Let’sfindout.”
Withoutdelay,hismouthlatchesontoonebreastwhilehishandsqueezestheother.Thehardpullofhismouthmakesmearchoffthecushions.OhGod.It’slikethere’sadirectlinebetweenhistongueandmypussy.Whenhegroans,Ifeeliteverywhere.Myhipscomeoffthecouch,seekingpressuretoalleviatetheachebutfindingnothing.
“Fuckme,”Iplead.
Hefallsbackwardonhisassandpullsmedownontopofhim,somehowneveroncelosingcontactwithmybreasts.Istraddlehimandtrytorubmywetcoreagainsthiscock,butmystupidbellygetsinthewayandamoanoffrustrationescapes.
Hisresponseistoslipahandbetweenus.Shovingmypantiesaside,hisfingersfindmyslickskinandbegintorub.Twofingersglidealongmypussywhilehisthumbstrumsmyclitlikeaguitarstring.Andsuddenlyit’salmosttoomuch.Icomeinamindlessrushofpleasure,moaninghisname,andevenwhenIfloatdownfromtheblissfulhigh,it’sstillnotenough.Ireachdownandgivehiscockadesperatestroke.
“This,”Igasp.“Iwantthis.”
“Yes,ma’am.”
Withaglittery,hungrygaze,hetearsmypantiesoffandnudgesmeontomyback.Thenhegripshisshaftandguidesittomyentrance.Isuckinabreathatthefirstpushofhisbroadheadspreadingme.
Hestopsabruptlyinmid-glide.“Youokay?”
Icanseehisarmsstrainingashislustpusheshardagainsthisself-control.Iwanttobetakenhard,though.IwanthimtoremindmethatI’mbeautiful,thatI’mlust-worthy,thatI’mstillrockinghisworld.
Icurvemylegsaroundhishipsandtrytopullhimindeeper.“I’mmorethanokay.Ineedyoutofuckme.Please.”
Thefiercelookthatpassesoverhisfaceisbreathtaking.Hejacksindeep,hardandhot,fillingmeupwithhiscockuntilthat’sallIknow.Ihaven’tfelthimclosetomelikethisinsolong.Itfeelslike…ahomecoming.
Hismouthfindsmyneck,thetenderskinbehindmyear.Hetrailswetkissesalongmyshoulderandcollarbone.Hesucksonmynippleagain,andstarsflashinfrontofmyclosedeyelids.Onehandslipsbeneathmyass,holdingmeslightlyoffthecouch,andhishipsmove,stroking,stroking,strokinguntilhehitsthatonespotthathasmecryingoutagain.
He’srelentless,plunginginsidemeagainandagain.TheheadofhisshaftrubsagainstthatsoftbundleofnervesinsidemeuntilI’magasping,writhingmess.
“Imissedyou,”hechokesout.“Sofuckingmuch.”
Idon’tsayitbackbecauseI’veforgottenhowtotalk.Thepleasureistoointense,foggingupmybrain.Hecontinuestoravagemybreasts,oneandthentheother.Andthenhesitsup,takesholdofmyhips,andthrustsintomeharderandfasterthanbefore.
Theleatherbeneathmyshoulderschafesmyskin.MyhairisplasteredacrossmyfaceandI’mhavingahardtimedrawingeachbreath,butnoneofthatmattersasI’mlostinthemaelstromofsensation.AllIregister,allIknow,ishim.Howgoodhefeels,howmuchmybodycraveshim,howhardmyheartbeatsforhim.
HowI’mdeeplyinlovewithhim.
“Comeforme,”herasps.“Comeallovermydick,Sabrina.”
Thepleasurebuildsinsideofmeuntilfinallyitdetonates,shatteringmycomposure,meltingmybody.Tuckerwhipshisheadbackandgroansouthisownrelease,whileIlayawreckedmessbeneathhim.
Howhefindsthestrengthtogetupandwalktothekitchen,Idon’tknow.I’mtoooutofittodoanythingbutmurmurathankyouwhenhecomesbackwithsomewetpapertowelsandgentlycleansupthemoisturetricklingdownmythigh.
BeforeIcanprotest,herejoinsmeonthecouchandthrowsablanketoverournakedbodies.Hepushesanarmundermyheadandcocoonsmeinhisheat,whileIpraythatthisisn’tthedayBrodyHollisdecidestocomehomeearlyfromwork.
AsTuckerstrokesmyhair,thewordsoflovethatsitlikeleadinmythroatfighttogetout,butIswallowthemback.Itwasjustsex.Webothneededtherelease,that’sall.Ican’treadanythingmoreintoit,andIcan’teventrustmyownfeelingsthesedays,notwithallthepregnancyhormonesrunningrampantinmyblood.
Isnuggleintohissweat-dampenedbody.Thisisenoughforme.Whateverhecangivemeisenough.Iwon’taskformore.
“Whatwereyouandthedoctorwhisperingaboutbefore?”Iaskeventually.
Hechuckles.“This.”
“This?”
“Yeah,this.”Hereachesundertheblanketandtweaksoneofmynipples.“Iaskedherifwewereallowedtohavesex.”
Myjawdrops.“YouaskedourOBforpermissiontofuckme?”
“Iwantedtomakesureitwouldn’thurtthebaby,”heprotests.“Jeez.Sorryforbeingaconcerneddad.”
Ican’thelpbutsmile.
Webothgrumbleindispleasurewhenaphonechimes.It’shis,andhereluctantlyleansoverthesideofthecouchinsearchofhispants.Hefishesoutthephoneandthenhe’snestledbesidemeagain,swipingafingeroverthescreen.
Feelingcurious—fine,nosy—Ipeekatthedisplay.
Andreleaseahorrifiedscream.
Shootingupintoasittingposition,IsnatchthephoneoutofTucker’shand.“OhmyGod!”Ishriek.“Whatisthat?”28
Tucker
IknowIshouldn’tlaugh.Themotherofmychildisupset.ThelastthingIshoulddoislaughather,butthehorrifiedexpressiononherfaceispriceless.
“Tucker!”Shepunchesmyshoulder.“Stoplaughingandtellmewhatthehellthatis.”
Iglanceatthepictureandloseitagain.“It’scomforting,”Icroak.
Sabrinapunchesmeagain.
“Logan,”Ichokeout.“Hemadethisforthebaby.It’sthecomfortingtest.”
“IsweartoGod,Tuck,ifyoudon’tstartmakingsense,I’mgoingtosendthispicturetothepoliceandtellthemI’mthevictimofahatecrime.”
Ihiccupuncontrollably.
“Tucker!”
Wheezing,Imanagetositup.Icoughforafullminutetogetthehumoroutofmysystem.ThenIstareatthestuffedthingonthescreen.
Ithinkit’ssupposedtobeateddybear,butsomewhereduringtheprocess,shitwenthorriblywrong.ThestitchingissomethingoutofaTimBurtonmovie.Oneeyeisabuttonwhiletheotherisaserial-killerstyleXsewnwithblackthread.There’sapatchoffurmissingonthesideofitshead,andthearmsandlegsarealldifferentsizes.
Underneaththepic,Loganwrote:
Gracethinksthis’llscaretheBB.She’swrong,right?
She’snotwrong.
“WhydidLogandothistous?”Sabrinademands.
Isnort.“He’svyingforgodfather.”
“Startmakingsense!”
Swallowinganotherroaroflaughter,Ihastilyclarify.“HeandGarrettbothwanttobeourbaby’sgodfather.ImadethisstupidoffhandjokeabouthowI’mgonnamakethemcompeteforthetitle,andtheydecidedthatwasagreatidea.Sonowthey’recompeting.”
Sabrinaarchesabrow.“AnddidyoueverthinkthatmaybeIdon’twanteitherofthemtobethebaby’sgodfather?”
“Ofcourse.Ifiguredwe’dtalkaboutitatsomepoint,buthonestly,IthinkGarrettandHannahwouldbeawesomegodparents.”
“They’regoingtohavetofightitoutwithHopeandCarin.Butyou’realreadycuttingLoganout?”
Mygazestraysbacktothephone.“Um.Yes.”
Shefinallycracksasmile.“Okay.Sohowdoesthiscompetitionoftheirswork?”
Isigh.“It’scomplicated.Stupidlycomplicated.”
“Thatdoesn’tsurprisemeintheslightest,”shesayscheerfully.
“Therearefive,Idunno,categories,Iguess.Eachoneisdesignedtoshowcaseanecessaryparentingskill.”Jesus.Ican’tbelieveI’mevensayingthisrightnow.IalreadyhadtositthroughLogan’sridiculousexplanation.IfeellikeI’mendorsingthecrazybyrepeatingit.
Sabrina,however,looksfascinated.“Whatarethecategories?”
Iscanmybrain.“Comforting.Graceunderpressure.Solidsupportsystem.Um…finances.And…shit,Ican’trememberthelastone.”
“Howisbuyingastuffedanimalasignofcomfort?”
“Buying?Darlin’,thatcreatureishomemade.Theygotthesesew-your-own-stuffed-animalkits.”
Herjawdrops.“Ohmygosh.That’s…dedication.”
“They’rehockeyplayers.DedicationisinourDNA.”
“Howdotheyknowwhowins?Dotheygetawardedpoints?”
“I’msupposedtopickawinnerineachcategory.”Becausemyfriendshateme,apparently.
“Didtheyshowyoucopiesoftheirtaxreturnstodeterminewhowinsinthefinancesdepartment?”sheasksdryly.
“Naah.Butthatone’sadrawbecausethey’llbothbeplayingforthepros.Samewithsupportsystem—nowaywasIgoingtochoosebetweenHannahandGrace.Ilikemyballswheretheyare.”
Shesnickers.“Sowhowinscomforting?”
“UnlessGarrettsewssomethingevenmorenightmare-inducingthanthat—”Ijerkathumbatmyphone,“—I’mprettysurehe’llwinthisround.”
“Yourfriendsarefuckingweird,Tucker.Youknowthat,right?”
“Wellawareofit.”Ihesitateforabeat.“Hey,areyouworkingatthepostofficetomorrowafternoon?”
“No.Why?”
“Iwashopingmaybeyou’dcomebythehouseandhelpmepackupsomestuff.Theguyswillbethere.AndHannah,Grace,maybeAllie.IrentedaU-Haul,soeveryone’shelpingmeloadthefurnitureI’mtakingwithme.”Ihurrytoadd,“ObviouslyIwon’tletyouliftanythingheavy,butIfigureyoucouldhelpwiththelightstuff,likeclothes.We’reorderingsomepizzas,sothere’llbefood…”Iletthewordfoodhangenticingly,becauseIknowhowvoraciousherappetitehasbeenlately.
ButSabrina’sforeheadiscreasedwithreluctance.“Areyousuretheywon’tmindthatI’mthere?”
“Ofcoursenot.Theyreallywanttogettoknowyou.Wellsywassayingtheotherdayhowshe’sbummedthatyounevercomearound.”
“Wellsy?”shesaysblankly.
“Hannah.HerlastnameisWells,soGarrettdubbedherWellsy.”AndallofasuddenI’mtroubledthatI’vebeenwithSabrinasincethewinterandshehardlyknowsanythingaboutmyclosestfriends.
“Idon’tknow,Tuck…”
“Please?”Iflashhermybestaw-shuckssmile.“It’dmeanalottome.”
“Oh.”Herexpressionmeltslikebutterinthesun.“Okay.I’llcome.”
*
Sabrinastaystruetoherwordandshowsupatmyhousearoundtwoo’clockthefollowingday.Whenshearrives,shenearlygetssideswipedbythemattressthatLoganandFitzyarehaulingouttothemovingtruck.It’schaosinhere.
Iwhiskheroutofharm’swayandplantakissrightonherlips.“Heydarlin’.Thanksforcoming.”
AblushrisesinhercheekswhensherealizesthatHannahandGracearestandingdirectlybehindmeandhadwitnessedthekiss.I,ontheotherhand,don’tcareiftheywitnessusbangingagainstthedamnwall.Sabrinalookssofuckingbeautifulinherflower-printbluesundress,withherdarkhairpulledbackinalowponytail.Theselastcoupleofmonthshercheekshavebeenperpetuallyrosy,givingcredencetothatwholepregnancyglowthing.
“Hey,”shesays,hertoneoddlyshy.
Iintroducehertothegirls.Theygreetherwarmly,andSabrinaquicklywarmsuptothemtoo.ApparentlyshealreadyknowsHannahfromthediner,andGracehasacutehabitofbabblingwhenshe’snervous,soshe’stalkingSabrina’searoffbeforetheintroductionsareevenover.
“Youwantsomethingtodrink?”Ioffer,guidingherintothekitchenwhileHannahandGracetrailafterus.
“No,it’sfine.Justputmetowork.”
“Weweregoingtotakeabreaknowanyway.Fitzyshowedupearlierthanplannedandhehastoleaveinanhour,sowe’vealreadymovedallthefurnitureoutofmyroom.Allthat’sleftisemptyingoutmyclosetanddrawers.”Inudgehertowardachair.“Sitdown.Waterokay?”
“Sure.”
AsHannahandGracejoinheratthetable,Idon’tmissthewayboththeirgazeskeepdartingtowardSabrina’sstomach.She’sclearlypregnant,butnotquitewatermelon-bigyet.Maybeasoccerball?
Eitherway,that’smydaughterinthere,andeverytimeIthinkthat,pridefillsmychest.Mydaughter.Christ.Lifeisstrangeandunpredictableandsofreakingawesome.
“Howareyoufeeling?”HannahisaskingSabrina.“Areyoustillgettingmorningsickness?”
“No,thatstoppedacouplemonthsago.ThesedaysI’mjusttiredandhungryandneedtogotothebathroomeveryotherminute.Oh,andit’sgettingharderandhardertoseemyfeet.WhichisprobablyagoodthingbecauseIthinkthey’reswollentotwicetheirsize.”
“Aw,thatsucks,”Gracesayssympathetically.“Butatleastyougetanadorable,chubby-cheekedmiracleforallyourpainandsuffering.That’sadecenttradeoff,right?”
“Ha!”Sabrinagrins.“HowaboutIcallyouatthreeinthemorningwhenmychubby-cheekedmiracleisscreamingherlungsoutandthenyoucantellmeifit’sadecenttradeoff.”
Hannahsnickers.“She’sgotyouthere,Gracie.”
IhandSabrinaaglassofwaterandthenleanagainstthecounter,smilingasthegirlscontinuetojokeaboutallthe“wonderful”thingsSabrinaandIcanlookforwardto—nosleep,diaperchanges,colic,teething.
Truthfully,noneofthatscaresme.Ifyoudon’thavetoworkhardforsomething,thenhowcanitevertrulyberewarding?
Footstepsapproachthekitchen.Garrettwandersin,wipingsweatoffhisbrow.WhenhenoticesSabrina,hebrightens.“Ohgood.You’rehere.Holdon—gottagrabsomething.”
Sheturnstomeasiftosay,Ishetalkingtome?
He’salreadygone,though,hisfootstepsthumpingupthestairs.
Atthetable,Hannahrunsahandthroughherhairandgivesmeapleadinglook.“Justrememberhe’syourbestfriend,okay?”
Thatdoesn’tsoundominous.
WhenGarrettreturns,he’sholdinganotepadandaballpointpen,whichhesetsonthetableashesitsacrossfromSabrina.“Tuck,”hesays.“Sit.Thisisimportant.”
I’msobaffledrightnow.Hannah’sresignedexpressiondoesn’thelpinlesseningtheconfusion.
OnceI’mseatednexttoSabrina,Garrettflipsopenthenotepad,allbusiness.“Okay.Solet’sgooverthenames.”
Sabrinaraisesaneyebrowatme.
Ishrug,becauseIlegitimatelydon’tknowwhatthefuckhe’stalkingabout
“I’veputtogetherasolidlist.Ireallythinkyou’regoingtolikethese.”Butwhenheglancesdownatthepage,hisfacefalls.“Ahcrap.Wecan’tuseanyoftheboynames.”
“Wait.”Sabrinaholdsupahand,herbrowfurrowed.“You’repickingnamesforourbaby?”
Henods,busyflippingthepage.
Mybabymamagapesatme.
Ishrugagain.
“Justoutofcuriosity,whatweretheboynames?”Gracehedges,clearlyfightingasmile.
Hecheersupagain.“Well,thetopcontenderwasGarrett.”
IsnickerloudenoughtorattleSabrina’swaterglass.“Uh-huh,”Isay,playingalong.“Andwhatwastherunner-up?”
“Graham.”
Hannahsighs.
“Butit’sokay.Ihavesomekickassgirlnamestoo.”Hetapshispenonthepad,meetsoureyes,andutterstwosyllables.“Gigi.”
Myjawdrops.“Areyoukiddingme?I’mnotnamingmydaughterGigi.”
Sabrinaismystified.“WhyGigi?”sheasksslowly.
Hannahsighsagain.
Thenamesuddenlyclicksinmyhead.Ohforfuck’ssake.
“G.G.,”ImuttertoSabrina.“AsinGarrettGraham.”
She’ssilentforabeat.Thensheburstsoutlaughing,triggeringgigglesfromGraceandeventuallyHannah,whokeepsshakingherheadatherboyfriend.
“What?”Garrettsaysdefensively.“Thegodfathershouldhaveasayinthename.It’sintherulebook.”
“Whatrulebook?”Hannahburstsout.“Youmakeuptherulesasyougoalong!”
“So?”
“Besides,youhaven’tbeencrownedgodfatheryet,”Ipointoutwithasmirk,justasFitzyandLogandriftintothekitchen.IjerkathumbtowardLogan.“Thisdumbassisstillintherunning.”
“Actually…”Garrettbeamsatus.“Logan’soutoftherace.”
Itwistinmychairtolookatourteammate.“Sincewhen?”
Logan’sexpressioninstantlygoesshuttered.“Idecidedtobowout,”hemutters.“It’sabigresponsibility.”
AloudsnortsoundsfromGarrett’svicinity.“Youdecidedtobowout?Isthatwhatwe’recallingit?”
Loganglowersathim.“It’swhatwe’recallingitbecauseit’strue.”
“Yeah?”Garretthopstohisfeet.“Berightback.”
SabrinaandIexchangepuzzledglancesashestepsoutofthekitchen.Ihearhimmovingaroundinthelivingroom.AmomentlaterhepopsbackintosightandwhipsuphishandsinfrontofLogan’sface.
“Thenhowdoyouexplainthis?”
Sabrinayelpsinhorror.
Me,I’mjustreallycurioustohearwhyGarrettisholdingatinynewborndoll.
Whichismissingitshead,bytheway.
“Youfuckingtookithome?”Logansoundsoutraged.
“HellyeahIdid.Whatuseweretheygoingtohaveforitthere?Itdoesn’thaveahead,bro.”
“Where’s‘there’?”Iaskcarefully,thoughI’mnotsureIwanttoknowtheanswer.
“NewbornCPR,”Garrettexplains.“Wetookacourseatthecampushealthcenterthismorning.”
“NewbornCPR?”Sabrinashakesherhead,dazed.
“Itwasthegraceunderpressuretest.”Garrettsmilessmugly.“Whichhefailed.I,ofcourse,passedwithflyingcolors.”
“IsitmyfaultIdon’tknowmyownstrength?”Loganprotests.
“Yes!”Garrettsaysinaspurtoflaughter.“Thatistotallyyourfault.”Heholdsupthedollandwavesitaroundtauntingly.“Showmeonthedollwhereyourbrainis.Ohright,youcan’t.Becauseyoufuckingdecapitatedit.”
Sabrinaturnstome.“Canwegoupstairsandpacknow?”
“YouguysarescaringSabrina,”Hannahgrumblesatthebickeringidiots.“Babe,putthatdollaway.AndLogan,remindmetoneverletyoubabysitmyfuturechildren.”Withthat,sherefocusesherattentiononSabrina.“Okay,assumingwe’reputtingapininGigi,whatothernamesareyouthinkingabout?”
SabrinaandIexchangeanotherlook.“Wehaven’tevendiscussedit,”sheadmits.
“Arethereanynamesyoulikeingeneral?”
Sabrinapondersit.“IlikethenameCharlotte.”
“Oh,Ilovethat!”Graceexclaims.“CharlotteTucker.Ithasaniceringtoit.”
“CharlotteJames,”Sabrinacorrects.
Iglareather.“HerlastnameisgoingtobeTucker.”
“Noit’snot.It’sgoingtobeJames.”
“WhataboutTucker-James?”Fitzycallsoutashegrabsabeerfromthefridge.
“No,”wesayinunison.Notbecausewe’reagainsthyphens,butbecausewe’rebothstubbornjerks.
Ididn’trealizeIfeltsostronglyaboutmydaughterhavingmylastname,butIdo.Hell,ifitwasuptome,Sabrinawouldhavemylastnametoo.Butthatwouldrequireusgettingmarried,whichwouldrequiremetopropose,andI’mprettysureshe’dfleetoanothercontinentifIdidthat.Wemightbesleepingtogetheragain,butIcantellshe’sstillfightingtheideathatwe’reinanactualrelationship.
Forsomereason,thesillygirlthinksshehastodoeverythingalone.
“Okay.”Hannahgrins.“Howaboutwetablethefirstnamediscussionuntilyou’vesolvedthesurnamequandary?”
Thatsoundslikeagoodidea.ThelastthingIwanttodoisarguewithSabrinainfrontofallmyfriends.“Let’sgoupstairsanddosomepacking,”ItellSabrina.
Nodding,sheallowsmetohelpheroutofherchair.
Fromhisperchatthecounter,Garrett’sexpressionturnsglum.“Ican’tbelieveyou’removingout.”
Irollmyeyes.“Youguysaremovingouttoo.”
“Yeah,butnotfortwomoreweeks.”
InoticethatLoganlooksequallybummedattheprospectofmyleavingtoday.Theywantedtothrowmeagoodbyeparty,butIsaidno,becausetechnicallythisisn’tgoodbye.I’mjustmovingtoBoston,whichiswherethey’llbothbeinafewmonthsanyway.
Dean’sheadingtoNewYork,though.He’sbailingonlawschoolandgotajobteachingataprepschool.AllielandedaroleonaTVshowthat’sfilminginManhattan,soIguessthey’llbemovingintogether.
Truthfully,I’mequalpartssadandrelievedthatDeanwillbelivinginanotherstate.Hehasn’texactlybeensupportiveaboutmyimpendingfatherhood,buthe’sstilloneofmybestfriends,damnit.
“Youguysdecideyetwhogetsthemasterbedroom?”
GarrettisspeakingtoFitzynow,whoshrugshistattooedshoulders.“Me.Obviously.”
“Idon’tknow,”Loganwarns.“Hollisandthefreshmanaregonnatrytofightyouforit.”
Fitzyraisesaneyebrowandthenflexeshisbigbiceps.“Let’em.”
Istiflealaugh.Yeah,HollisandHunterdon’tstandachanceagainstColinFitzgerald.Though,consideringwhataprivatepersonheis,I’mstillsurprisedthatheagreedtotakeoverourleasewiththem.Ifiguredhe’dlookforanotherplaceonhisown,butIguessHollistwistedhisarmintoit.
SabrinaandIheadupstairs,whereIsweepmygazeovermyemptyroom.Thebed’sgoneandthere’snowheretosit.InoticeSabrinarubbingherlowerback,soImakeamentalnotenottoletherstayonherfeetfortoolong.
“Okay,”shesaysinadecisivevoiceassheopenstheclosetdoor.“Shouldwefoldeverythingupnicely?Orjusttossitintheboxeswilly-nilly?”
“Whatboxes?”Iswipeacardboardcontainerofgarbagebagsoffthehardwood.“Theclothesgoinhere.”
“OhmyGod.Youaresuchaguy.”
“AmI?”Smirking,Idriftmyhanddownmyabsandthencupmyjunkovermyjeans.“Doyouwanttoinspectthegoodstomakesure?”
“Didyouaskmeheretopackortofuck?”
“Both?”
Shewavesahandaroundtheroom.“There’snobed.”
“Whoneedsabed?”
“Mypoorfatpregnantbodydoes,”Sabrinaanswerswithaself-deprecatingsmile.
“Howaboutthis?”Icounter.“Let’spackasfastaswecan,andthenI’llfollowyoubacktoBostonandwecanfuckupastormonyourbigcomfybed.”
Shestandsuponhertiptoesandplantsakissonmylips.“Deal.”
*
Sabrina
IwasnervousaboutspendingtimewithTucker’sfriends,butreallyIhadnothingtoworryabout,becausethey’reprettyawesome.HannahandGracearesoeasytotalkto.GarrettandLoganarehysterical,andalotmorelaidbackthanIexpected.Imean,they’redrop-deadgorgeoushockeyplayers.Shouldn’ttheyallbesuperconceitedlike—
“Weneedtotalk.”
Likethisguy.
IstiffenwhenDeanDiLaurentisappearsinthedoorway.TuckerjustwentoutsidetosaygoodbyetoFitzy,leavingmetoemptyoutthelastdresserdraweronmyown,butIstopwhatI’mdoingwhenDeanentersandclosesthedoorbehindhim.
Themeresightofhimirritatesme.It’snotfairthatsomeonesojerkyissoridiculouslyattractive.Objectively,Deanisprobablythebest-lookingguyI’veeverseenoutsideofamoviescreen.He’sgotblondhair,chiseledmale-modelfeatures,aspectacularbody.Andhe’scharmingashell—that’showhegotmeintobedinthefirstplace.Well,thatandthethreedaiquirisIdrank.Imighthaveevenseenhimagain,ifIhadn’tlearnedthathewassleepingwithourTAinexchangeforgoodgrades.
“Wedo,huh?”Idrawl.“Andwhatdoweneedtotalkabout,Richie?”
Heflinches,ashealwaysdoeswhenIusethemockingnickname.IdubbedhimRichieRichafterIdiscoveredthatheuseshismoneyandlookstogetahead.
“Youknowexactlywhatweneedtotalkabout.”
Ifrown.“Ifyoumeanthis—”Igesturetomystomach,“—thenthere’snothingtodiscuss.MybabyandIarenoneofyourbusiness.”
“Tucker’smybusiness,”hesayscoolly,crossinghisarmsoverhismuscularchest.“Imean,damn,Sabrina,Ialwaysknewyouwereanambitiousbitch,butIdidn’tthinkyouwereaselfishone.”
Angerclimbsupmythroat.“Wow.Beaualwaystriedtoconvincemethatyouwereadecentguy,buthewassoclearlywrong.”
Deanhissesoutabreath.“LeaveBeauoutofthis.We’retalkingaboutyouandTuck.”
“Doyoureallywanttopickafightwithapregnantchickrightnow?BecauseI’mwarningyou—myhormonesareallovertheplace.Imightclawyoureyesout.”
Helooksunfazed.“You’refuckingupmyboy’slife.YoureallythinkI’mjustgoingtostandbyandletyoudothat?”
Grittingmyteeth,Islamthedresserdrawershutandmimichispose,positioningmyarmstightacrossmyswollenbreasts.“Tuckerisagrown-up.Healsohappenstobethefatherofthisbaby.Ifhewantstohaveahandinraisingher,Ican’texactlystophim.”
Frustrationcloudshisexpression.“Thiswillruinhiswholelife.Don’tyougetthat?He’sgivingupeverythinghe’sworkedtowardforachickwhodoesn’tevenlovehim.”
Myjawalmosthitsthefloor.Wherethefuckdoeshegetoffsayingthisshittome?
“WhatmakesyouthinkIdon’tlovehim?”Ishootbackdefiantly.
“Becauseifyoudid,thenyou’dalreadyhavearingonyourfinger.Tuckdoesn’tdothingshalf-assed.Helovesyou,you’rehavinghiskid—ifhethoughtforamomentthatyoulovedhimback,you’dbegettingmarriedinCityHallbeforethiskidpopsout.Instead,he’sstayinginBostonwhenallhe’stalkedaboutsincefreshmanyearisgoingbacktoTexas—”
Guiltpricksmythroat.Hard.
“Andnowhe’sgoingtotakethefirstjobhefinds,insteadofopeningabusinessthathe’sactuallytakenthetimetoresearchandthinkabout.”Deanshakeshishead.“Don’tyouseethat?”
Ifalter.He’sright.Tuckerdoesn’thalf-assit.Andyethereheis,movinginwithaguyhebarelylikes,consideringbuyingshittyfranchiseshe’snotpassionateabout,andallbecauseIwassoovercomewithlustonenightthatIforgotthat“justthetip”isaseffectiveinknockingyouupashavingaguyejaculateinyou.
He’schanginghisentirelifeforme.He’schanginghisgoalsandhisplansandhislifestyletoaccommodatethisbaby.AndI’mtheonewhocausedhimtodothat.
DespitemythreataboutclawingDean’seyesout,Idon’tfeelatallferalanymore.Ifeel…wrecked.
SowreckedthatI’mhelplesstostopthesobthatfliesout.SowreckedthatIfallapartrightinfrontofDeanfuckingDiLaurentis.
Isinktothefloorandburymyfaceinmyhands,cryingsohardthatIcan’tevendrawabreath.Igaspforairwhilehottearsslidedownmycheeksandsoakmypalms.I’mashuddering,pathetic,pregnantmess,andit’snotuntilafirmhandclaspsmyshoulderthatIrealizeDeanissittingonthefloorbesideme.
“Fuck,”hemumbles,soundingashelplessasIfeel.“Ididn’tmeantomakeyoucry.”
“Ideservetocry,”Ichokeoutbetweensobs.
“Sabrina—”Hetouchesmyshoulderagain.
“No!”Iwrenchawayfromhisgripandstareathimwithtear-filledeyes.“You’reright,okay?I’mruininghislife!DoyouthinkI’mfuckinghappyaboutthat?BecauseI’mnot!”Igulprapidly,tryingtorememberhowtobreathe.“He’skindandsweetandsogoddamnincredibleandhedoesn’tdeservetohavehisworldturnedupsidedownlikethis!Heshouldbemakingalltheseplansrightnowandbeingexcitedaboutgraduatingcollegeandstartinganewchapterinhislife,andinsteadit’sendoffuckingstory.Thebestguyonthiswholeplanetisstuckwithme—forever—allbecauseofwhatwassupposedtobeaone-timehookup!”
Ifinishinapantingrush,viciouslyswipingatmytears.Besideme,Deanlookstotallyandutterlystunned.
“Awhell,”hefinallysays.“Youdolovehim.”
Ihangmyhead.“Yes.”
“Butyouhaven’ttoldhim.”
“No.”
“Whythehellnot?”
“Because…”Myfacecollapsesagain.“BecauseI’mtryingtomakethisaseasyasIcanforhim.Lovecomplicatesthings,andshitiscomplicatedenoughrightnow.And…”
“Andwhat?”Deanasks.
AndIdon’tknowifhelovesmeback
SometimesIthinkhedoes,butinthebackofmymindthere’salwaysalittlenuggetofdoubt.I’mhonestlynotcertainifTuckerwantstobewithmebecausehelovesme,orbecausehethinksweshouldbetogetherforthesakeofourbaby.
“Itdoesn’tmatter,”Isayhoarsely.“You’reright.Thisbabyisscrewinguphisplans.”Iwipemyfaceagain.“TheleastIcandoismakesureitdoesn’truinmorethanithasto.I’lltakeonthebulkoftheresponsibility.That’llfreeupalotofhistimesothathecanopenabusinessheloves.”
Deanhesitates.“WhataboutHarvard?”
“I’mstillgoing.”Bitternessjoinsthesorrowclingingtomythroat.“Don’tworry,you’llhavethreemoreyearstohatemeandcallmeabitch.”
“Actually,Iwon’tbethere,”heconfesses.
Ifrown.“Sincewhen?”
“IacceptedateachingjobataprivateschoolinManhattan.”Heshrugs.“Irealizedlawschoolisn’twhereIwanttobe.”
“Oh.”IwonderwhyTuckerdidn’tmentionthat,butIguessitdoesn’tsurpriseme.He’salreadyadmittedthatDeanhasn’texactlybeenMr.Supportiveaboutthebaby.
“AfterBeaudied,”Deanstarts,buthisvoicecracksandhestopstoclearhisthroat.“Afterhedied,Ikindofwentbatshitcrazyforawhile.ButthenIcrawledoutoftheholeIdugformyselfandreallytookstockofmylife,youknow?”
Inodslowly.JoannaMaxwellhaddonethesamething.SohadI.Beau’sdeathmademerealizehowimportantlifeis,howshortitcanbe.IwonderiflosingBeauwasagame-changerforeveryonewhoknewandcaredabouthim.
“Itchangedstuffformetoo,”Iconfess.
It’sDean’sturntonod.“Icantell.”Hepausesruefully.“SometimesIcan’tbelieveyouandIeverhookedup.Itseemslikeamillionyearsago.”
Imanagealaugh.“Yup.”
“YoureallyloveTuck,huh?”
“Ido.”
Heletsoutaheavybreath.“Youshouldtellhim.”
“No.”Iswallow.“Andyou’renotgoingtotellhimeither.”
“Heneedstoknow—”
“No,”Irepeat,firmerthistime.“Imeanit,Dean.Don’tsayanythingtohim.Youoweme.”
Humorflickersinhiseyes.“Howdoyoufigure?”
Ijutoutmychin.“Youdidn’tdeservethatAinStatisticssophomoreyear.”
“Ah.Sokeepingmymouthshutismypunishmentfortheundeservedgrade?”
“Soyouadmititwasundeserved!”
“Ofcourseitwas.”Histonebecomespained.“Trustme,IdideverythingIcouldtotrytogettheprofessortofailme.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’strue.AfterIacedthatprojectweteameduponandyouonlygotaB,IrealizedtheTAwasfuckingaroundwithmygrades.Iaskedtheproftogooverallmytestsandpapers,andturnsoutIwassupposedtobefailing.”
“OhmyGod.Iknewit.”ThoughIdon’tfeelassmugaboutitasIthoughtIwould.MybeefwithDeansuddenlyfeelsincrediblyunimportant.And,likehesaid,asifithappenedamillionyearsago.
“Well,Ididn’t,”hesaysfrankly.“IknowyouthinkIwasboningtheTAforthegrades—”Heflashesagrin,“—butIwasboningherbecauseshehadagreatrackandthesweetestass.”
Ipretendtogagbeforegoingserious.“Whydidn’tyouevertellmeanyofthis?”
Hesnickers.“Becausewe’renotfriends.”
Isnickerback.“True.”Imullsomethingover.“Butmaybeweshouldcallaceasefire.”
“Jesus.Hashellfrozenover?”
Embarrassmentticklesmybelly.“You’reoneofTucker’sbestfriends.I’mabouttohavehiskid.Itmakessenseforustotrytoco-exist.”
“Makessense,”heagrees.
Deanhopsoffthefloorandholdsoutahand.
Ihesitateforonlyasecondbeforeallowinghimtohelpmetomyfeet.“Thanks.”
Anawkwardsilencestretchesbetweenus,whichIdon’ttrytofillbytalking.I’mstillnotconvincedthatDeanisn’tasuperficialplayboy,andI’msureapartofhimstillthinksI’mabitch.Butthehostilityisgone,andeventhoughwe’renevergoingtobebestbuds,IknowTuckerwillappreciateitifImakeanefforttogetalongwithDean.
It’stheleastIcando,consideringhowmuchTuckerhasalreadysacrificedforme29
Sabrina
June
“Holycrap,babiesneedalotofshit.”Carinstaggersintomybedroomloadedwiththreebags.“IthinkyourincomingbabelettehasmoregearthanHope.”
“Notpossible,”saysHope’sboyfriend,whowecorralledintopickingupacribIfoundatagaragesaleoverinDunham.
HeandTuckermusclethepiecesinsideandlookaroundatthesmallspace.
“Yougoingtofiteverythinginhere?”D’Andreasksdubiously.
Irubahandovermybelly.Nothingseemstofitanymore.Notmyclothes.Notmyshoes.Andnow,notthecrib.Mybedroomisbigenoughforadeskandabedbutnotadeskandabedandacrib.
Isigh.“Iguessthedeskisgoingtohavetogo.”
Tuckerkeepshismouthshut,butIseefrustrationflarebrieflyinhiseyes.We’vebeenoverthisbefore.Hewantsmetomoveout,butIrefuseto.
We’vesettledintoaniceroutinethispastmonth,inwhichI’vebeendoingexactlywhatItoldDeanIwoulddo—tryingtomakelifeaseasyaspossibleforTuck.
Idon’taskhimforanything.Iwon’tlethimpayfororevensplitthecostofallthebabystuffI’mbuying.Idon’tcallhiminthemiddleofthenightwhenthebabykicksmeawakeandmybackisthrobbing.AndI’mdefinitelynotgoingtocommittoanapartmentwithhim.I’dneverbeabletoaffordanythingdecentandIneedtopaymywayorthisisnevergoingtowork.
Still,askingJohnTuckernottohelpoutislikeaskingthesunnottorise.Hecomestomydoctor’sappointments,rubsmybackandfeeteverytimewe’reonthecouchtogether,hasreadasmanybabybooksaswecangetourhandson,andisalwayspickingmeuplittlesnacks—apintofcookiedoughicecream,abagofdouble-stuffOreos,ajarofolives.I’vestartedtokeepmyrandomcravingstomyself,becauseifIevenhintthatsomethingsoundsenticing,Tucker’sinhistruckonhiswaytothegrocerystore.
“Whereareyougoingtostudy?”Carinasksinalarm.
D’Andregruntsandtriestore-adjusthisgriponthecrib.
“Outinthekitchen,”Ianswer.Pointingtotheclosetdoor,Iasktheguystosetthepiecesdown.“Overthere,andthenIguesswe’llputthisdeskoutonthecurbandhopesomeonepicksitup.”
Asthetwomenmaneuverthecribpartsintotheroom,Istartcleaningoutthedeskdrawers,dumpingpapersonthebed.Carinhopsovertohelp.
“GoodcallonDunham,”ItellTucker.ItwashisideatoheadovertothatposhtowntwentyminutesoutsideofBoston.
Heshrugsasifitwasnobigdeal.“Ilookedatpropertyoverthereandthecheapestplacewassixfigures.Figureditwouldhavesomegoodstuffforus.”
“WhatyoudoingoverinDunham?”D’Andreasks.
“Lookingaroundatsomebusinessesforsale.I’mbuyingonewithmydad’sinsurancemoney.”Tuckercrouchesbesidemeandstartstopawthroughthepiecesofthecrib.
“Findanythinginteresting?”
“Lotsoffranchises,butnothingfeelsright.Ican’tseemyselfmakingsubsandwichesfortherestofmylife,eveniftheP&Lstatementsaregood.Icouldbuyacoupleofsmallrentals.Goodcashflowwiththat.”
D’Andrenods.“Yeah.You’dbeabletodomostofthemaintenancetoo.Whatelseisoutthere?”
“Inmypricerange?Mostlysmallbusinesses.Thereareacouplegyms,lotsoffoodieplaces,andafewotherthingswhichIthinkareabigmoneydrain.”
“Gottafindsomethingyoulike.”
“Youknowit.”Tuckerhopstohisfeet.“I’mgoingtogettherestoftheshitfromthetruck.”
Igivehimanabsentnodasheleaves.Innotime,wehavethedeskclearedout.HopeandIstarttomoveit,butD’Andrestompsoverandpushesmeaway.
“Areyoufuckingkiddingme?Getoverthereandsitdown.”Heshakeshishead.“Foolgirl.Thesizeofahouseandshe’sstilltryingtopretendshe’snotpregnant,”hemutters,butit’sloudenoughforeveryoneintheroomtohearhim.
Chastised,Imakemywayovertothebedtostartsortingthings.I’mgoingtohavetocleanoutmyclosetanddresserdrawersbecause,asCarinsaid,babiesrequirealotofshit.Diapersarealreadystackedinthecornerofthecloset—theywereagiftfromHope.Ican’timaginegoingthroughallofthem,evenifthebookssaythatyouchangeadiapersixtotentimesaday.
ThebooksIpickedupattheusedbookstorewereold,soI’mguessingsomeoftheinformationisoutdated.Becausesixtotentimesaday?Who’sgottimeforthat?Tuckerhassomenewerbooks,soIcancomparenoteswithhimlater.
Hopejoinsmeonthebed.“‘MostLikelytobeaLawyer,8thGrade.’”Shemakesaface.“Youwereabarreloflaughsasakid,weren’tyou?”
Isnatchthestupidcertificateoutofherhand.“Isuckatsciencebutdidn’tmindtellingpeopleexactlywhatIthoughtofthem,sodoctorwasoutandlawyerwasin.”
“Ithinkthat’stalkshowhost,notlawyer.”Shereachesouttoglideherhandacrossmystomach.“How’sourbabytoday?”
“Sleeping.”
“Iwanttofeelherkick.Wakeherup.”
Hopehasbabyfever.EverytimeIseeher,shewantstorubmybellylikeI’mtheluckyBuddhastatueataChineserestaurant.UnfortunatelyforHope,thebabyandIarenotonthesameschedule.WhenI’mmovingaround,she’ssleeping.ThemomentIgetintobed,shedecidestowakeup.DoctorLauratoldmeitwasbecausemymovementlullsthebabytosleep.That’sallwellandgood,butitdoesn’thelpmegetagoodnight’ssleep,doesit?
“HowamIsupposedtodothat?Jumpingjacks?”
“Wouldthatmakethebabyfallout?Likeifyouwerenearyourduedate,couldyoushakeshakeshakeitout?”Carinwrigglesherarmslikeshe’samemberofTaylorSwift’sdancesquad.
Istareather.“Pleasetellmethatwhateversciencefieldyouendupstudyingingradschool,itwon’tbeimportant.”
CarinflipsmeoffandshimmiesherwayacrosstheroombeforebendingdowntopickuponeofthebagswefilledatGoodwill.Shedumpsthemonthefloorandstartssortingthewhitesfromthecolors.Weagreedatthestorethateverythinghadtobewashedinthehottestwaterpossiblegiventhesmellofsomeoftheitems.
“Didyouknowthatwhenthebabystartsmovingthatit’scalledthequickening?”Hopesays.
Isnicker.“Soshe’sgoingtoburstoutofmystomachwithasworddeclaringtherecanbeonlyone?”
“Possibly.Womenhavediedinchildbirth,right?Thebabyisessentiallyaparasite.Itlivesoffyournutrients,sapsyourenergy.”Shetapsthebottomofahangeragainstherlip.“Soyeah,IthinktheHighlandermottocouldfit.”
CarinandIlookatherinhorror.“Hopeless,youcanshutupanytimenow,”Carinorders.
“Iwasjustsaying,fromamedicalstandpoint,it’sapossibletheory.Nothere,butmaybeinotherlessdevelopednations.”Shereachesoverandpatsmybelly.“Don’tworry.You’resafe.Youshould’vegottenmorematernityclothes,”shesays,movingontoanothertopicwhileI’mstilldigestingthatmybabyisaparasite.
Ishakemyhead.“No.Thatstuffwashideous.Ialreadylooklikeaboat.Ididn’tneedtolooklikeanuglyone.”
“IthinkifIwerepregnant,I’dwearmuumuusorhousecoatslikeLucilleBall,”Carinmuses.
“Arethoseevenathing?”Hopeasks.
“Theyshouldbe.”
Inodinagreementbecausehellyeah,I’dwearsomethinglikethatovertheawfuljeansandpolyestergearandtheirwhiteexpandablewaistpouches.IknowI’mgoingtoappreciatethoseinafewweeks,butrightnowI’mnotlookingforwardtogettingbigger.
“Itriedtobendoverandtouchmytoesthismorning,”Itellthegirls.“Itippedover,hitmyheadonthedesk,andthenhadtocallforNanatogetup.I’mliterallythesizeofanOompaLoompa.”
“You’rethemostbeautifulOompaLoompaintheworld,”Hopedeclares.
“Becauseshe’snotorange.”
“OompaLoompaswereorange?”Itrytoconjureupamentalpictureofthembutcanonlyrecalltheirwhiteoveralls.
Carinpursesherlips.“Weretheysupposedtobecandies?Likeorangeslices?Ormaybecandycorn?”
“Theyweresquirrels,”Hopeinformsus.
“Noway,”webothsayatonce.
“Yesway.IreaditonthebackofaLaffyTaffywhenIwasliketen.ItwasatriviaquestionandI’djustseenthemovie.Iwasterrifiedofsquirrelsforyearsafterwards.”
“Shit.Learnsomethingneweveryday.”Ipushmybodyupright,ataskthattakesacertainamountofupperbodystrengththesedays,andtoddleovertoinspectthecrib.
“Idon’tbelieveyou,”CarintellsHope.“Themovieisaboutcandy.It’scalledWillyWonkaandtheChocolateFactory.Sincewhenaresquirrelscandies?Icanbuyintoabunnybecause,youknow,thechocolateEasterbunnies,butnotasquirrel.”
“Lookitup,Careful.I’mright.”
“You’reruiningmychildhood.”Carinturnstome.“Don’tdothistoyourdaughter.”
“RaisehertobelieveOompaLoompasaresquirrels?”
“Yes.”
Hopelaughs.“Here’smytheoryonparenthood.We’regoingtoscrewup.Badly.Many,manytimes.Andourkidsaregoingtoneedtherapy.Thegoalistoreducetheamountoftherapythey’llneed.”
“That’sadarkparentingoutlook,”Iremark.“Howdothesethingsgotogether?Arewemissingsomething?”Therearetwomatchingendpieces,buttherestoftheboardsonthefloorarelikeaLegosetwithnoinstructions.
Carinshrugs.“I’mascientist.Icanestimatethevolumeandmassofthepieces,butI’mnotgoingtohurtmyselftryingtoassembleit.”
D’Andreappearsinthedoorway,sweatglisteningonhisdarkskin.Allthreeofusturntowardhimwithpleadingeyes.
“Whyyoualllookingatmelikethat?”heaskssuspiciously.
“Canyouputthiscribbacktogether?”Iaskhopefully.
“Andifyoudo,willyoupleasetakeoffyourshirt?”Carinbegs.
D’Andrescowls.“Yougottastoptreatingmelikeapieceofmeat.Ihavefeelings.”
ButhewhipsoffhisshirtanywayandwealltakeamomenttopraiseGodforcreatingaspecimenlikeD’Andre,whosechestlookslikeitwassculptedoutofmarble.
Hesmirks.“Hadenough?”
“No,notreally.”Carinpropsherchinonahand.“Whydon’tyoutakeoffthoseshortstoo?”
IadmitI’mcurious.D’Andre’sabigman.I’mnotopposedtoseeinghisequipment.
Hopethrowsapalmupintheair.“No,nostripping.We’reheretohelpputthecribtogether.Baby,whatcanyoudo?”
“I’manaccountingmajor,”heremindsher.“Remember?I’mgoodwithnumbersandlifting.Tucker’llputittogether.He’souttheretalkingsomestrangerintohaulingawaythedesk.”Hedirectsapointedglancetomybelly.“Sowewaitforyourman.”
“Shedoesn’tneedaman,”Hopesays.“Shehasus.”
“ThenwhyamIhere?”
“Becauseyoulovemeanddon’twanttosleeponthesofa,”Hopesayssweetly.
“That’snotasofa,Hope.That’sapieceofwoodwithsomefoamonit.”
Igiggle.Hope’snewplaceinBostonisfullofitemsfromhergrandma’sattic,whichcontainsenoughfurnituretofillaboutthreehouses.
“That’sanoriginalSaarinen.”
“Stilldon’tmakeitasofa,”heinsists.
“Yousitonit.Ithasthreecushions.Hence,it’sasofa.”Shesniffs.Conversationover.“Weneedanengineeringfriend.”ShepointsafingeratCarin.“GobacktoBriarandhookupwithanengineeringstudent.”
“Okay,butI’llneedtoactuallyhavesexwithhimbeforehand,soIwon’tbebackuntil,”shepretendstocheckthetime,“tenorso.”
“We’reallcollegegraduates,”Iproclaim.“Wecanputthistogetherourselves.”
Clappingmyhands,Imotionforeveryonetogetonthefloorwithme.AfterthreetriesoftryingtolowermyselftothegroundandmakingHopeandCarinnearlypeetheirpantslaughingintheprocess,D’Andretakespityonallofusandhelpsmeontomyknees.WhichiswhereTuckerfindsus.
“Isthissomenewfertilityritual?”hedrawlsfromthedoorway,oneshoulderproppedagainsttheframe.“Becauseshe’salreadypregnant,youknow.”
“Getyoassinhere,whiteboy,andputthisthingtogether,”D’Andresnaps.“Thisisridiculous.”
“What’sridiculous?”Tuckerstopsnexttome,andItaketheopportunitytoleanagainsthislegs.Evenkneelingishardwhenyou’retotingaroundanextrathirtypounds.“Wetookitapart.Howcanyounotknowhowtoputitbacktogether?”
D’Andrerepeatshisearlierexcuse.“I’manaccountingmajor.”
Tuckerrollshiseyes.“YougotanAllenwrench?”
“Areyoumockingusrightnow?”Igrumble.“Idon’thaveanywrenches,letaloneoneswithnames.”
Hegrins.“Leavethistome,darlin’.I’llgetitfixedup.”
“Iwanttohelp,”Hopevolunteers.“Thisislikesurgery,exceptwithwoodandnotpeople.”
“Lordhelpus,”D’Andremutters.
“Comeon.”Carintugsonmyarm.“Let’sstartwashingsomeofthisstuffwebought.”
WithaboostonmyassfromTucker,IgettomyfeetandwaddleafterCarin.
“Howdoesitfeeltonotbewaitingtables?”sheasksaswemakeourwayintothelaundryroom.
“Weird.It’shardfindingajobforthreemonthsthatdoesn’trequiresomeheavymanuallabor.Iwenttoatempagencytoseeiftheyhadanythingforme,buttheyweren’thopeful.Apparentlypregnantwomenaren’tonthetopofthecandidatelist.”
“SoTucker’sreallynotgoingbacktoTexas?”
“Nope.Hewantstostayclosetothebaby.”Igrimace.“Buthismom…he’ssoclosewithher.Ithinkthereareproblemsthere.”
“OhLord.Youdon’twanttomesswithasouthernboy’smama,”Carinwarns.“I’veheardendlesscomplaintsaboutgritsfromHope.”
Ihavetoo.Still,whataremyoptions?“SoIshouldleaveHarvardandmovetoTexas?”
“No.Justeatyourgrits.Wheneversheoffersthemtoyou.Nomatterhowsicktheymakeyou.”
“That’smorbid.”
“Haveyouthoughtaboutwhatyou’regoingtodoaboutthebabywhenyou’reinclass?”sheasksasweloadthewashingmachine.
“Idon’tknowyet.Harvarddoesn’tofferdaycare.I’lltrytofindanin-homecareprovider,Iguess.”
Thinkingaboutalltheseissuesisstressingmeout,butIdon’twanttocomplainaboutittoomuch.CarinandHopearealreadyfeelingguiltyaboutnotbeingabletohelpoutmore,butfuck,theyhavetheirownlivestoworryabout.
“Whataboutyourgrandmother?”
“God.Youshould’veseenherfacewhenIasked.Shetoldmeshe’dalreadyraisedonekid—”Ipointathumbatmychest,“—thatdidn’tbelongtoher,andshewasn’traisinganotherone.”
“Harsh.”
Wemoveintothekitchenandstartinonthebabybottles.“Harshbuttrue.Ican’tdumpthisloadonher.”
“WhataboutTucker?”Carinshakesoutacleanbottleandsetsitinthedishrack.
“Whatabouthim?”
“He’sthedad.Hehastohelp.Youcantakehimtocourtandforcehimtopayyouchildsupport.”
Myjawdrops.“I’mnotgoingtodothat.Andheisgoingtohelp.”Ipause.“AsmuchasI’lllethim.”
Carinmakesadisgustednoise.“You’resostubborn.Youdon’thavetodothisallonyourown,B.Youmakeitsoundlikehe’sjustalongfortheride.What’sgoingonwiththetwoofyou?”
Ipickuponeofthecleanbottlesandtwistanipple,tryingtoimaginemyselfholdingthebabyandfeedingitwithoneofthese.“Heneverintendedonstayinghere.He’sjustherebecauseofmeandthebaby,andIfeellikeI’mruininghislife.”
Shescoffs.“Hewaspartofthistoo.You’renottheVirginMary.Therewasnoimmaculateconception.”
“Iknow.ButIstillcouldhavegottenanabortion.”Honestly,that’sathoughtthatweighsonmeeveryminuteIspendtryingtofigureouthowI’mgoingtomakethisallwork.
“Butyoudidn’t,sostoplookingbackward.”
“Iknow,”Isayagain.
“Youhavefeelingsforhim.”
Ibusymyselfwithfindingaplaceforthecleanbottlesandotherbabygear.“Ilikehim.”
“YoucansaytheotherLword.Itwon’tkillyou.”
Annoyed,IglareatCarin.“Likeyou’reanybetter,MissCommitmentphobe.Sincewhenhaveyourunaroundtellingguysyou’vehookedupwiththatyoulovethem?”
“Never,butI’mnotafraidofitlikeyouare.”
“I’mnotafraidofit.”AmI?
Sherollshereyes.
“Whatever.It’sirrelevant,anyway.Tucker’sinthisbecausehe’sinlovewiththebabyandthat’sgoodenoughforme.”
Carinopenshermouthtorebukeme,butTuckerstrollsintothekitchenbeforeshecangetawordout.“Ready?”heasksme.
Iflickagazetowardthemicrowaveclock.Crap.Itsayswehaveabouttwentyminutesbeforeclassstarts.
“Yup.Youguysaregoingtohavetoleave,”ItellCarin.“TuckandIaregoingtoabreathingclass.”
Sheraisesabrow.“Forwhat?”
“Tohelpherwhenshe’sinlabor,”HopeexplainsassheentersthekitchenwithD’Andreonherheels.Shecomesoverandgivesmeakissonthecheek.“Calluslater,okay?”
“Iwill.Andthanksforhelpingouttoday.Allofyou.”
“Nothanksnecessary,”Hopesays,andCarinandD’Andrenodinagreement.“We’rehereforyou,B.Nowandalways.”
Emotionwellsupinmythroat.IhavenoideahowIwoundupwithsuchamazingfriends,butI’msureashecknotcomplaining.
*
“Youdon’tsoundtooexcitedaboutthis,”Tuckercommentstwentyminuteslater.Heholdsthedoortothecommunitycenteropenforme.
“Andyouare?”Ayellowsigndecoratedwithballoonsgreetsus.“ThisprocessissohardthatIhavetolearnhowtobreathe?That’snotnormal.”
“YouwatchanyofthoseYouTubevideos?”
“Godno.Ididn’twanttopsychmyselfout.Didyou?”
“Afew.”
“And?”
Hegivesmeathumbs-down.“Idon’trecommendthem.I’mwonderingwhyweusebrassballstodescribesomeonewho’sreallystrong,becauseafterthesecondvideo,myballstriedtoclimbinsidemybody.Plus,myYouTubehistoryisofficiallyfucked.”
“Ha.ExactlywhyIdidn’twatchany.”Iwagawarningfingerathim.“Staybymyheadduringthebirthoryou’llneverwanttohavesexwithmeagain.”
“Naah,Icanseparatethetwo.”Hedragshishanddownmyspinetorestitontopofmybutt,which,likemyboobs,isgrowinginsize.“Thisassismadefortapping.”
“SoanalisallI’mgoingtogetafterchildbirth?”
Hegrinsbroadly.“Whynotboth?”
BeforeIcanrespond,acurly-hairedolderladywearingarainbow-coloredpeasantskirtsweepsforwardtogreetus.“WelcometoLaborofLoveworkshop!I’mStacy!”
“JohnTuckerandSabrinaJames.”Tuckintroducesusboth.
Stacydoesn’tshakehishand.Instead,shemakesaprayergesture.“Pleasefindamatonthefloor.”
“Thisisgoingtobetoohippydippyforme,”Imurmuraswemakeourwaytothethreerowsofyogamatsspacedoutonthefloor.Theroomismostlyfull,butwefindanemptymatintheback.
“It’salessononbreathing.Ithinkthat’sthedefinitionofhippydippy.”Tuckerhelpsmeintoaseatedposition.“Wantmetopracticegivingyouinjectionsinstead?”
“Maybe?”I’monlyhalfjoking.Ireadthattherearecomplicationswithmedications,andIhaven’tdecidedifI’mgoingtooptfortheepidural.
ThelightsdimandStacymovesdeeperintotheroom,handsstillfoldedinprayer.
“Ithinksheknowssomethingwedon’t,”Tuckermurmursinmyear.“That’swhyshe’sprayingallthetime.”
“Sheknowsthatnoamountofmeditationisevergoingtomakechildbirthpainfree.”
Themannexttousclearshisthroat.Tuckerchucklessoftly,butwebothshutup.
Inthefrontoftheroom,Stacyturnsonaprojector.Thewords“WelcometoLaborofLove”appear.Andthensheproceedstoreadofftheslide.
“We’reheretohelpeaseyouthroughthelaborprocess.Themainstreammediaandhealthorganizationsfeedyouanendlesssupplyoffearandparanoia,butthetruthisthatchildbirthdoesnothavetobeapainfulexperience.Todaywewillstartourjourneytoajoyfulandpleasurablelabor.Thesethreeclasseswillhelpyourefocusyournegativefeelings,drawinginserenityandpushingoutfear.”
“Areweinabreathingclassorsigningupforacult?”Tuckerwhispers.
Cult.Definitelycult.
“Partners,helpers,moveintopositionbehindthemama.”
“Ialreadyhatethiswoman,”Ihissashecrouchesbehindme.
“Becauseshecalledyoumamaorbecauseshesaysit’snotapainfulexperience?”
Amanafewmatsdownraiseshishand.“Whereshouldweputourhands?”
“Greatquestion,Mark.”
OhGod,sheremembersallournames.
“Duringlabor,theappropriatepositionwillbethelowerback,butfortoday,we’reconcentratingonrelaxation,sopleaseplaceyourhandsonyourpartner’sshoulders.”
Nexttome,oneexpectantmotheristakingcopiousnotes,asifStacyinthepeasantskirtistheoracleoflaborhood,speakingthetencommandmentsofbirthing.
“Ifshesays,‘There’snothingtofearbutfearitself,’we’reoutofhere,”Isayalittletooloudly.
Thegunnerandherequallyseriouspartnerturnaroundtoglareatme.Aburbleoflaughterthreatenstoescape.Canwegetarrestedfordisturbingthepeaceinabreathingclass?
Stacywavesherhandtowardtheprojectionscreen.“Firstwe’llwatchashortvideooftheappropriatebreathingpattern,andthenwe’llpractice.”
Thevideoconsistsoffiveminutesofawomanpanting,herlipsformingdifferentshapeswhileherpartnercountsoff.
“Youthinkshe’sreallygotababyinthereorisitoneofthosefoamthings?”Tuckerasks,hishandslightlysqueezingmyshoulders.
“Foam,”Isayinstantly.“She’snotevensweating.Isweatjusttryingtogetmyshoeson.”
Afterthevideoends,Stacygoesaroundtheroomtocheckonallourbreathingpositions.“Deeperbreaths,Sabrina.John,pleaserubalittleharder.Placeyourfingersclosertoherneck.Herneckneedsmoreattention.”
Hisfingersstartrubbingalongpathalongthesideofmyneck,drawingoutalowmoan.Shit,thatdoesfeelgood.IguessStacy’sright.Ididneedmoreattentiononmyneck.
“Goodjob,John,”Stacycoos.Shestraightensandaddressestheclass.“Now,I’dlikeyoualltoimagineafavoritememory.Somethingverygoodinyourlife.Closeyoureyesandbringthatrecollectiontotheforefront.Pinittothewallofyourmind’seye.”
“I’menvisioningoneofusisaCyclops.”Tucker’sbreathticklesmyear,andIstarttofeelsomethingcompletelyinappropriatedownstairs.
“Maybetheoneeyeisyourdick,”Icounter.
Thecouplenexttoushuffsloudly.Webothignorethemthistime.
“Allthisshushingremindsmeofthelibrary.”Hislipsbrushmyearlobe.“Actually,it’sworsethanthelibrarybecausethere’snotablestohidemyhandcreepinginsideyourskirt.”
Isquirm.“Shutup.”
“Shetoldmetogotoafavoritememory.Mostofthoseinvolveeithermybigheadorlittleheadbetweenyourlegs.”
“Theimportantthing,”Stacysayswitharaisedvoiceandapointedglareinourdirection,“istofindpeace.Nowcloseyoureyesandpictureyourhappyplace.”
Tuckerhums.
Gottaadmit,myrecentgoodtimesallinvolveTuckertoo,butthisisdefinitelynotthetimeorplacetogethorny.SoIpullupthecrimsonshieldandtrytochanneltheeuphoriaofthenewsofmylawschooladmission.Thatwasagoodmemorytoo.
“Partners,asyourmamaisbreathing,pleasegiveheragoodmassagearoundtheneckandshoulders.Manymamasholdtheirtensionthere.Don’tbetoogentle.Yourmamasarepillarsofstrength.Thenextvideowewillwatchisofthebirthitself.”
Stacytapssomethingonthelaptopattachedtotheprojector.Animageofapairofgiantcookingtongsappearsonthescreen.Okay,maybetheyaren’tcookingtongs,buttheylookahellofalotlikethem.Thecamerapansoutandweseethetongsbeingheldbyamaskedsurgeon.Asthesceneunfurls,agaspfillstheroom.
Awoman’sspreadlegsappearandit’snotpretty.Icovermyeyes.Tucker’shandstightenaroundmyneck.
Stacy’scheeryvoicenarratesthescene.“Rememberyourhappyplaceaswewatchthesenextfewvideos.Theimplementbeingusedisnotatorturedevicebutratheraforceps.Ifyou’renotabletopushwithsufficientstrength,yourdoctorwillbeforcedtousethesetopulltheinfantfromyouruterus,whichcanaffecttheshapeofyourchild’sheadandpossiblyleadtobraindamage.Keepbreathing,mamas.Partners,keepmassaging.Thisiswhatwillhappenifyoucan’tconqueryourpain.Rememberthatyourmindcontrolstheoutcome.”
There’sanothercollectiveintakeofbreathasthescreenshowsascalpelcuttingintothefleshofawoman.
Tucker’sgripgrowstighter.
“You’rechokingme,”Imutter.
Hedoesn’treleaseme.Ifanything,theconstrictiongetstighter.
“AndherewehavetheC-section.Theinfantwillshyawayfromthelightwhenthestomachcavityiscutopen.Thedoctorhastoreachinanddragthebabyoutofyourstomach.Again,ifyouareunabletodoyourdutyasamotherandpushyourbabydownthevaginalcanal,yourdoctorwillbeforcedtocutthebabyout.”
ItugonTucker’sfingers.“You’rechokingme,”Irepeat.
Stacytapstoanotherscene.Agushoffluidandbloodand,isthatshit?poursoutofthewomanonthetable.
“Thisisthemostnaturalthingintheuniverseasevidencedbybirthsinnature,”shesaysinadreamyvoice.
Amontageofthebloodybirthingscenesofdifferentmammalsfollows.
IgrabTucker’smiddlefingerandwrenchashardasIcan.
“What’swrong?”heasks,fallingawayimmediately.
“Youwerechokingme!”Isnap.
“IthoughtyousaidIwasjokingyou!”
Westareateachother,filledwithequalpartshorrorandhilarity.
“Communicationisalwaysthekey,”Stacysingsfromthefront.
Laughterwinsout.TuckerandIcollapseagainsteachother.Wecan’tstoplaughing,andafterafewsecondsofcallingournamesandclappingforattention,Stacyfinallyasksustoleave.30
Tucker
FourthofJuly
“OnascaleofonetoI’m-ready-to-jump-out-of-this-speeding-truck,whereareyouonthefreak-outscale?”
Sabrinajerksherheadawayfromthecarwindow.She’sbeenstaringattheBostonsceneryasifshe’sneverseenitbefore,nevermindthatshe’slivedhereherwholelife.
“YoucantellI’manxious?”Shegrimaces,herpoutylipsflatteningout.
“Yourfingersarewhite,soeitheryou’resufferingfromaseriousconditionthatneedsimmediatemedicalattentionoryou’resqueezingthebloodoutofthemintentionally.”
Outofthecornerofmyeye,Iseeherslowlyuncurlherfingersuntilthey’restraightandpinkagain.
“I’venevermetaguy’sparentsbefore,”sheadmits,fiddlingwiththeradiostation.
“Goodthingthere’sonlyone,”Ijoke.Thenherwordssinkin.“Wait—never?”
Irememberhertellingmeshe’sneverhadaboyfriendbefore,butItookthattomeancollege.Sabrinaisgorgeous.IfIsawherinhighschool,Iwould’velaidinfrontofherlockereverydayuntilsheagreedtogooutwithme.
Itallmakessensenow,whyshe’sbeensoonedgeeversinceItoldherthatmymomwascominguptomeether.Atfirst,wetriedtomakeaplanforSabrinaandmetoflytoTexas,butthecostoftwoplaneticketsandarentalcardidn’tmakesense,eventhoughitmeantMomreschedulingafewappointments.Besides,turnsoutalotofairlinesbalkatpregnantwomenflying.Iguesstheyaren’treallykeenondeliverieshappeningonboard.
ThebonusaboutstayingintownisthatI’mabletoworkthisholidayweekendandgetsomeofthatextratimeandahalfthatSabrina’salwaysbraggingabout.I’vebeenworkingpart-timeonaconstructioncrewinthecityandmakingdecentmoney,whichisawesomebecauseI’mtryingnottodipintomysavingsunlessIabsolutelyhaveto.
“Ialreadytoldyou,”Sabrinamumblesfromthepassengerside.“Noboyfriends.”
Abandoningtheradio,shesitsbackwithasigh.Herstomachisbigenoughthatshecan’tevencrossherarmsunlessshereststhemontopofthebump.Whichisnotashelf,she’sremindedmemorethanonce.
“Thoughtyoumeantcollege.Weretheboysinyourhighschooldeaf,dumbandblind?”
“No.Theychasedafterme,butIdidn’thavetimeforthem.”Sheabsentlyreachesdownandrubsthecurveofherstomach.
EverytimeIlookather,I’mstruckanewwithaweatthefactthatmylittlegirlisinsideofherbody.Italsomakesmefuckinghornyashell.ThankChristwe’rehavingregularsexagain.
“Iwasconstantlyhustlingforscholarshipmoney,”shegoeson.“Workingalmostfull-timeatthepostofficesinceIwassixteen.InthesummersIwaitedtablesatnightandworkedatthepostofficeduringtheday.Guyswere…unnecessary.Otherthan,youknow,”shewavesvaguelytowardhercrotch.“Plustheydidn’tknowwhattodowiththeirequipmentinhighschool.Iwasbetterofftakingcareofmyselfathome.”
Mydicktwitchesagainstmyzipper.Theideaofherplayingwithherselfmakesmelight-headed,andIhavetowaitamomentuntilsomeofthebloodmigratesbackuptomybrain.
“Whataboutyou?Didyoudatealotinhighschool?Wereyouhomecomingking?”sheteases.
“Nope.Idatedthreegirls.AndhomecomingkingsinTexasarealwaysfootballplayers.”
“Youdidn’tplayfootball?”
“Notafterninthgrade.Iplayedhockeyyearround.CoachDeath’srinkwasanhournorthandI’ddrivethereprettymucheveryday.”
“Sotellmeaboutthesethreegirls.”
“You’rethatdesperateforadistraction?”
“Yes,”shesayseagerly.
Itapmyfingersagainstthewheel,pullingupmydustymemories.“IdatedEmmaHopkinsinseventhgradeuntilshegotaskedtothehomecomingdancebyaninthgrader.Afterthat,shewasonlyinterestedinoldermen.”
“Thisisfascinating.Tellmemore.”
Igrin.IcansufferalittlepersonalembarrassmentifitkeepsherfromworryingaboutmeetingMom.
“JuneAndersonwasmyninthgradecrush.Wehadnearlyallofourclassestogether,buttheclincherwasthatshecouldtieacherrystemintoaknotwithhertongue.Atninthgrade,thatwasuptherewithatightropewalkacrosstheGrandCanyon.”
Sabrinalaughs.“Ithinkforsomeguysitstillranksasoneofhumanity’sgreatestachievements.IbetBrodylistsitasarequirementforhookingupwithhim.”
Herscornfultonedoesn’tgounnoticed.ThefirsttimethatSabrinaandBrodyhadmetdidn’tgowell.Itstartedwithhimsuggestingthatherpussywouldbedestroyedbychildbirthandendedwithhertellinghimthatregardlessofthestateofherladygarden,he’dstillneverbeinvitedtoseeit.
“Thatguyissuchadouche,”shegrumbles.“Isitterriblelivingwithhim?”
Yep.
“I’vehadbetterroommates.”Glumly,IthinkabouttheawesometimeIhadincollegewithDean,Logan,andGarrett.
MyproblemwithBrodyisn’tthathe’sahorndogwhochasesskirtsfromthemomenthegetsupuntilhepassesoutatnight.Imean,myoldroommatessleptaroundregularly.Hell,evenIhadmyshareofshenanigans,includingabooze-soakedfoursomeonecrazyNewYear’sEve.It’shardnottogoalittlenutswhenyou’replayinghockeyatthelevelwewereplaying.Therewasanon-stopstreamofgirlsinthehouse.
Andyetevenhavingexperiencedthreesetsoftitsrubbingupagainstmeandthreetonguesonmydick,I’dstillpickSabrinaoveradrunkenorgyanyday.That’snotreallyathingIcantellagirl,though.NotevenHallmarkcanmakeagreetingcardthatconveysthemessagethatyouoncebangedthreechicksatthesametime,butnoneofthemareasgoodasher.
Brody’sproblemisthathehaszerorespectfortheoppositesex.
“Doeshereallyrefusetotakeselfieswithagirl,orwashemakingthatuptotoywithme?”Sabrinaasks.
“No,that’sarealthingforhim.Hethinksthatanypicturesofhimwithagirlpresseduptohissidewoulddriveotherpotentialhookupsaway.Selfiesareasignofcommitment.”He’dexpoundedonthistopicatsomelengthafterinstructingmetokeepmyTinderaccountactiveandtonottellanyoneIwashavingakid.
“Ugh.He’ssogross.”
“IsignedupforafakeInstagramaccountsoIcantrollhim.Whenhepostssomething,I’llwaitadayorsoandthenpopontocommentabouthowcoolitisthatheandmygrandpaarerockingthesameshirt.I’vedonethattwicenowandeachtime,I’veseenhimshovingtheshirtdowntheapartment’strashcompactor.”
Sabrinathrowsbackherheadandcackles.“Youdonot.”
“Hey,weallhavetogetourjolliessomewhere,right?Forme,it’sneggingBrodyonInstagramandchokingmybabymamainbreathingclasses.”
Shelaughsevenharder,herbellybouncingupanddown.Ireachoverandstrokethecurvemyself.Itfeelsgoodtoseeherlaughingagain.
“Mom’sgoingtoloveyou,”Iassureher.“You’llsee.”
*
Momhatesher.
Oratleast,she’sdoingagoodjobofhidingherlove.Theinitialmeetingwasn’tsobad.WepickedMomupattheHolidayInnanddroveherbacktomyapartment,whichisthankfullyfreeofBrodyatthemoment.HeandHollisarecelebratingtheFourthinNewHampshirewiththeirfamily.
Ontherideover,MomandSabrinahadchattedawkwardly,butthetensionhadbeenmanageable.
Now,thattensionisdamnnearsuffocatingme.
“Wheredoyoulive,Sabrina?”Momasksasshesurveysmytwo-bedroomapartment.
“Withmynanaandstepfather.”
“Hmmm.”
Sabrinawincesatthisobviouslackofapproval.
IshootMomanirritatedglance.“Sabrina’ssavingmoneysoherdebtwon’tbetoobigwhenshegetsoutoflawschool.”
Momraisesabrow.“Andhowmuchdebtwillthatbe?”
“Toomuch,”Sabrinajokes.
“Ihopeyoudon’texpectJohntopayitoffforyou.”
“Ofcoursenot,”Sabrinaexclaims.
“Mom!”Isayatthesametime.
“What?I’mlookingoutforyou,baby.Justasyou’llbetaskedwithlookingoutforyourdaughter.”ShetipsherheadtowardSabrina’sbelly.
Sabrinasmilestightlyanddecidestochangethesubject.“Iwishwe’dbeenabletocometoPatterson.Ibetit’sagreatplacetoraisechildren.YoucertainlydidanamazingjobwithTucker.”
Sinceritybleedsoutofeveryword,andevenmymothercanhearit.Thankfully,shesoftensslightly.“Yes,it’sawonderfulplace.AndtheyhaveadelightfulFourthofJulypicnic.Thisyear,EmmaHopkinswastheorganizer.”
“Youroldgirlfriend,Tuck,”Sabrinateasesonherwaytotherefrigerator.“Weshould’vetriedhardertoflydown.”
“Theairlinewouldn’tletus.Besides,wecangetdrunkandshootoffbottlerocketshere,andit’llbejustlikewewerethere,”Isaydryly.“Speakingofdrinking—Mom,youwantaglassofwine?”
“Red,please,”shesays,settlingintoastoolatthecounter.
Sabrinapullsoutthebeefpattiesshe’dcarefullyconstructedearliertoday.I’mmorethancapableofcooking,butshewouldn’tallowmetoliftafinger.Everythingfromthepotatosaladtothebakedbeanshadbeenpreparedbyher.
Wemanagetomakeithalfwaythroughdinnerwithoutanyhostility,asSabrinaasksMomatonofquestionsaboutPatterson,Mom’ssalonbusiness,andevenDad.It’sthestuffaboutmyfatherthatreallygetsmymothertalking.
“Hesaidhiscarbrokedown,butIdon’tbelievehim,”shedeclaresbetweenbitesofherburger.
Sabrina’seyeswiden.“Youthinkhefakeditsohecouldstaythereandgettoknowyou?”
Mymothersmirks.“Idon’tthinkso.Iknowso.”
I’veheardthestoryathousandtimes,butit’sasentertainingthistimeasiteverwas.Moreso,actually,becausethistimeSabrina’stheaudienceandshedoesn’tbelieveinlove.ButMom’sdevotiontomyfatherisunmistakable.
“JohnSenior,Tucker’sdad,admittedtoitwhenIgotpregnantwithTucker.HesaidhepulledthesparkplugoutofthecarandthathegottheideafromwatchingTheSoundofMusicwithhismama.IevenaskedBill—he’sthelocalmechanic—whoconfirmedthattheonlythingwrongwithJohn’scarwasamissingplug.”
“That’sthemostromanticstoryI’veeverheard.”
Idon’tmissthewaySabrinaispushingthesaladaroundonherplate.Forthemostpart,she’sdoneagoodjobofhidingherongoingnervousness,butherlackofappetiteisadeadgiveaway.ImakeamentalnotetofixupaplateforherafterItakecareofthedishes.
“I’msorryforyourloss,”Sabrinaadds,hertonesoftwithsympathy.
“Thankyou,sweetie.”
Ismiletomyself.Mom’sdefinitelythawed.
Sabrinaturnstome.“Howoldwereyouwhenyourfatherpassed?Wasitthreeorfour?”
“Three,”Iconfirm,poppingapotatochunkinmymouth.
“That’ssoyoung.”Shemakesanabsentpassofherhandalongherstomach.
“Youdidn’tknow?”Mominterjects,thechillbackinhervoice.
“No,Iknew,”Sabrinafumbles.“Ijustforgottheexactage.”
“Havethetwoofyoutalkedaboutanythingimportant,orisitsimplyaphysicalthing?Becauseyoucertainlycan’traiseachildonlustalone.”
“Mom,”Isaysharply.“We’vetalkedaboutimportantthings.”
“Willyoubelivingtogether?Howwillyousharefinances?Whowilltakecareofyourchildwhenyou’reinclass?”
Sabrinagetsahuntedlookinhereyes.“I—I…Mynanaishelpingout.”
“Johnsaysshe’sreluctant.I’mnotsureareluctantcaregiverisagoodone.”
Sabrinaaimsaglareofbetrayalinmydirection.
“Isaidwedidn’tknowwhatkindofhelpshe’doffer.”Ilaydownmyfork.“It’llallworkout.”Thisisdirectedtobothofthem,butneithertakeitwell.
“Youcan’traiseachildflyingbytheseatofyourpants,John.Iknowyouwanttodotherightthing.Youalwaysdo,butinthiscase,ifthetwoofyoucan’ttakecareofit,youshouldthinkaboutotheroptions.Haveyouconsideredadoption?”
Sabrina’sfacegoesashenattheimpliedinsultthatshe’snotuptobeingamother.
Ireachforher.“Sabrina,it’sgoingtoworkout—”
Butshe’salreadydartingoutofthekitchen,asobcatchinginherthroatasshemutterssomethingthatsoundslikebathroomandsorry.Herfeetslapagainstthewoodfloorsasshemovesfasterthananeight-monthpregnantwomanshould.
Ijumpoutofmychair.“Sabrina—”
“Givehersometime,”Momsaysbehindme.
Adoorslams,andIflinchatthesharpsound.Istartforthedoorwayandthenstopinthemiddleofthekitchenandspinaround.
“Sabrina’sagoodperson,”Isaygruffly.“Andshe’sgoingtomakeagoodmother.Andevenifshewastheworst,you’dstillhavetoacceptherbecausethatkidinherstomachishalfofme.”
Thistimeit’smymother’sfacethatblanches.“Isthatathreat?”Hervoicequivers.
Idraganagitatedhandthroughmyhair.“No.Butthere’snoneedforustobeonoppositesidesoftheicehere.We’reallonthesameteam.”
Momtiltsherchinupdefiantly.“Thatremainstobeseen.”
IshakemyheadindisappointmentbeforeheadingdownthehallwaytoseeifSabrinaisstilltalkingtome.
Hereyesareredwhensheopensthebathroomdoor.“I’msorryaboutrunningoutlikethat.”
“It’sfine,darlin’.”Ipushherinsideandshutthedoorbehindme.Sheletsmegatherherclose—orascloseaswecangetwithabowlingballbetweenus.“You’regoingtobeagreatmom.Ibelieveinyou.”
Herbodyfeelsslightdespitetheweightshe’sgained.“Don’tbemadatyourmother,”shewhispersagainstmychest.“She’slookingoutforyou.Shewantswhat’sbestforyou.Iknowthat.”
“She’llcomearound.”ButIsoundahellofalotmoreconfidentthanIfeel.31
Tucker
August
“OhmyGod!OhmyGod!Brody!Yes!Yes,yes,yes!Rightthere,baby!OhmyGodddddddddd!”
Noteventhefull-blastTVvolumecandrownoutthesexnoiseswaftingoutofBrody’sbedroom.IfIhadapairofpliersonme,I’dripmyearsoffsoIwouldn’thavetolistentothisanymore.Unfortunately,Brodydoesn’tevenownatoolbox—IfoundthatoutwhenIfirstmovedinandlookedaroundfortoolstofixtheleakykitchenfaucetwith.Brodyhadshruggedandsaid,“Shitleaks,man.Lifedoesn’talwaysgiveyoutools.”
I’dwantedtopointoutthatyes,lifedoesgiveyoutools—that’swhywehavefuckingHomeDepot.ButarguingwithBrody’slogicisanexerciseinfutility.
Idon’tknowhowmuchlongerIcantakethis.Hollis’brotherisimpossibletolivewith.Hehasadifferentchickovereverynight,andthey’reeitherpornstarsorjustverygoodatarticulatingwhattheylike,love,andreallyloveinbed.Heleaveswettowelsonthebathroomfloor.Hisideaofcookingisthrowingafrozenpizzaintheoven,announcingitdidn’tfillhimup,andthenorderinganactualpizza.
“Ohgosh,yes!Harder,baby!”
“Thishard?”
“Harder!”
“Ohyeah,youdirtygirl!”
JesusH.Christ.Ihatethisapartmentwiththefireofathousandsuns.
Iheavemyselfoffthecouchandheadforthedoor,textingSabrinaasIslipintoapairofflip-flops.
Me:Heybb,wantmetocomeoverandruburback?
Shemusthaveherphonehandy,becauseshetextsbackrightaway.
Her:Not2nite.Rayhashispokerbudsoverandthey’reallkindadrunk.
Ifrownatthescreen.Damnit,Ican’tstandthatshe’sstilllivinginthathousewiththatcreep.ButeverytimeIbringuptheideaoffindingaplacetogether,Sabrinabrushesitaside.Andshe’sbeenkindofdistanteversinceMomflewbacktoTexas.
Ilovemymothertodeath,butI’mpissedather,ifI’mbeinghonest.Igetthatshe’sworriedaboutmeandthinksthathavingababyatmyageisaterribleidea,butIdidn’tlikethewaysheinterrogatedSabrina.Notjustonthatfirstday,either.Thewholevisitwasriddledwithpassiveaggressiveremarksandveiledcriticism.IthinkSabrinafeltdefeatedbythetimeMomleft,andI’mnotsureIblameher.
Isendanothertext.
Me:Honestly?Don’tliketheideaofubeingarounddrunkdudes.Urduedateisin4days.Uneed2Baroundresponsibleadults.
Her:Don’tworry.Nana’ssoberasajudge.Shedoesn’tdrink,remember?
Atleastthat’ssomething.Still,Ihatenotbeingtherewithher.
“Oooooooh!I’mcoooommming!”
Okay.Enough.Ican’tstayhereforonemoresecondlisteningtoBrodyHollisgethisnutoff.
Shovingmyphoneandwalletinmypocket,Istompoutoftheapartmentandtaketheelevatordowntothelobby.It’spastnine,sotheAugustsunhasalreadysetandanicebreezeticklesmyfacewhenIstepoutside.
Iwalkdownthesidewalkwithnodestinationinmind,otherthannotmyapartment.Withthepart-timeconstructionjobs,thevisitfromMom,anddrivingbackandforthfromSabrina’s,Ihaven’thadachancetofullyexploremynewneighborhoodyet.NowItakethetimetodoit,anddiscoverthatit’snotassketchyasIoriginallythought.
Ipassseveralcafeswithquaintoutdoorpatios,somenicelow-riseofficebuildings,ahandfulofnailsalons,andabarbershopthatImakeamentalnotetovisitoneofthesedays.EventuallyIfindmyselfinfrontofacornerbar,admiringtheredbrickfacade,thesmallpatiosectionedoffbyawrought-ironrailing,andthegreenawningoverthedoor.
Thesignisoldanddatedandslightlycrooked.Itreads“Paddy’sDive”,andwhenIsteppastthecreakywoodendoor,Ifindadive,allright.Thebarisbiggerthanitappearsfromoutside,buteverythinginherelookslikeitwasbuilt,bought,andoperatedintheseventies.
Asidefromonebarflyattheendofthelongcounter,theplaceisempty.OnaFridaynight.InBoston.I’veneverbeentoabar,anywhere,thathasn’tbeenjam-packedonaFridaynight.
“WhatcanIgetcha?”themanbehindthecounterasks.He’sinhisearlytolatesixties,withashockofwhitehair,tannedwrinkledskin,andexhaustionlininghiseyes.
“I’llhavea…”Ipause,realizingI’mnotinthemoodforalcohol.“Coffee,”Ifinish.
Hewinks.“Livingontheedge,areya,son?”
Chuckling,Isitononeofthetall,vinylstoolsandfoldmyhandsonthecounter.Okay,wait,badideatouchingthiscounter.ThewoodissoweatheredthatI’mprettysureIjustgotasplinter.
IabsentlypickthesliverofwoodoutofmythumbasIwaitforthebartendertomakemydrink.Whenheplacesacupofcoffeeinfrontofme,Iacceptitgratefullyandglancearoundtheroom.
“Slownight?”Iask.
Hesmileswryly.“Slowdecade.”
“Oh.Sorrytohearthat.”
Icanseewhythatis,though.Everythinginthisbarisoutdated.Thejukeboxisthekindthatstillrequiresquarters—whoevenusescoinsanymore?ThedartboardsareallpuncturedwithholessobigthatIdon’tthinkadartcouldeverembedintotheboard.Theboothsaretattered.Thetablesarecrooked.Thefloorlookslikeitcouldcaveinatanysecond.
Andtherearen’tanyTVs.Whatkindofbardoesn’thaveaTV?
Yet,despiteallitsobviousflawsanddrawbacks,Iseepotentialintheplace.Thelocationisamazing,andinsidearehighceilingswithexposedbeamsandgorgeouswoodpanelingonthewalls.Afewrenosandsomemodernizing,andtheownercouldtotallyturnthisplacearound.
Itakeasipofcoffee,studyingthebartenderovertherimofmycup.“Areyoutheowner?”
“Suream.”
Hesitationhasmegoingsilentforasecond.ThenIsetdownmycupandask,“Everthoughtaboutselling?”
“Actually,I’m—”
Myphoneringsbeforehecanfinish.“Sorry,”Isayhastily,reachingintomypocket.WhenIseeSabrina’sname,I’minstantlyonalert.“Ineedtotakethis.It’smygirl.”
Theoldermansmilesknowinglyandbacksaway.“Gotcha.”
IpressTALKandshovethephonetomyear.“Hey,darlin’.Everythingokay?”
“No!It’snotokay!”
Hershrieknearlyshattersmyeardrums.Theanguishtheremakesmypulsekickupapanickynotch.
“What’swrong?Areyouallright?”DidthatsonofabitchRaytouchher?
“No,”shemoans,andthenthere’sagaspofpain.“I’mnotallright.Mywaterjustbroke!”32
Tucker
Thereisnoworsefeelinginthisworldthanseeingthewomanyouloveinpainandbeingunabletodoadamnthingaboutit.
Forthepasteighthours,I’vebeenaboutashelpfulasafishoutofwater.Orafishinwater,becausewhatthefuckdofishreallyoffertosociety?
EverytimeItrytoencourageSabrinatodoherbreathing,sheglaresatmelikeIslaughteredhertreasuredfamilypet.WhenIofferhersomeicechipstochewon,shetellsmetoshovethemupmyass.TheonetimeIpeekedoverDoctorLaura’sshoulderatSabrina’sladyparts,shetoldmethatifIdidthatonemoretime,she’dbreakmyhockeystickandstabmewithit.
Themotherofmychild,folks.
“Fourcentimetersdilated,”DoctorLaurareportsduringherlatestcheck-in.“Westillhaveawaystogo,butthingsareprogressingnicely.”
“Whyisittakingsolong?”Iaskinconcern.“Herwaterbrokehoursago.”Eighthoursandsixminutes,tobeexact.
“Somewomendelivertheirbabieswithinhoursofthewaterbreaking.Somedon’tstarthavingcontractionsaslateasforty-eighthoursafterit.Everylaborisdifferent.”Shepatsmyshoulder.“Don’tworry.We’llgetthere.Sabrina,letthenurseknowifthepainbecomestoomuchforyou,andwe’lladministerthatepidural.Butdon’twaittoolong.Ifthebabyistoofardownthebirthcanal,itwon’tdoanygood.I’llbebackinabittocheckonyou.”
“Thankyou,Doc.”Sabrina’stoneisassweetassugar,probablybecauseDoctorLauraistheonewhocontrolsthedrugs.
Andyep,thesecondthedoctorisgone,mywoman’ssmilefadesandshefixesmewithascowl.“Youdidthistome,”shegrowls.“You!”
Ifightalaugh.“Takestwotoconceive,darlin’.Atleastaccordingtoscience.”
“Don’tyoudarebringscienceintothis!Doyouevencarewhat’shappeningtomybodyrightnow?I—”Agroanripsoutofherthroat.“Noooooo!Oh,Tuck,anothercontraction.”
Isnaptoaction,rubbingherlowerbackjustlikeHippieStacyinstructedmeto.Iorderhertobreatheandcountouteachbreath,whilediligentlycheckingthemonitorshe’shookedupto,whichismeasuringandtiminghercontractions
Itpassesquickly,andthenextonedoesn’tcomeforawhile,whichdisheartensme.Ireaduponthelaborprocess,anditseemslikeSabrinaisstillintheearlystagesofit.Shehasn’tevenhitactivelaboryet,andIpraytoGodthatthisbabydoesn’ttakedaystopopout.
“Ithurts,”shemoansafteranothercontractionends.There’sasheenofsweatonherfaceandherlipsaresodrythey’returningwhite.
Irubanicechipoverhermouthandleandowntokisshertemple.“Iknow,darlin’.Butit’llallbeoversoon.”
I’mlying.Fourmorehourspassbeforeshedilatestofivecentimeters,andthenanotherthreebeforeshe’satsix.Thatbringsthetallytofifteenhours,andIcanseeSabrina’senergybeginningtodrain.Plus,thepainisgettingworse.HerlatestcontractionhashergrippingmyhandsotightIfeelthebonesshift.
Whenitends,shecollapsesagainstthebedinasweatymessandannounces,“Iwanttheepidural.Fuck,I’lleventaketheforcepsofdoom.Justgetthisbabyoutofmybody!”
“Okay.”Ismoothherdamphairawayfromherforehead.“We’lltellDoctorLaurawhenshecomesbackto—”
“Now!”Sabrinayells.“Gotellhernow.”
“She’llbehereanyminute,baby.Andthecontractionsarethreeminutesapart.Westillhavetimebeforethenext—”
BeforeIcanfinish,there’salethallittlehandbunchingupmyshirt.Sabrinahisseslikeacorneredjunglecatandmurdersmewithhereyes.
“IsweartoGod,Tucker,ifyoudon’tgofindherrightnow,IwillripyourstupidheadoffyourstupidneckandFEEDITTOTHEBABY!”
Noddingcalmly,Ipryherfingersoffmycollaranddropakissonherforehead.ThenIgetthefuckoutofthereandlookforthedoctor.
*
Thetallieskeeprackingup.
Timeinlabor:19hours.
Timebetweencontractions:60seconds.
NumberoftimesSabrinahasthreatenedtokillme:38.
Numberofbrokenbonesinmyhand:whoknows.
Thegoodthingis,we’refinallyatthefinishline.Despitegettingtheepidural,Sabrinaisstillsuffering.Herfaceisflushedadeepcrimsonandshe’sbeenintearseversinceDoctorLaurainstructedhertostartpushing.She’snotascreamer,though.Inbed?Yes.Inchildbirth,nope.Theonlysoundsshemakesareanguishedmoansandlowgrunts.
Mywoman’satrooper.
AfewhoursagoIwasabletoduckoutoftheroomtotakealeakandtextmymotherandmyfriends,butsincethehardpartbegan,Sabrinahasn’tletmeleaveherside.That’sfine,becauseI’mnotgoinganywhereuntilourbabygirlissafeandsoundinourarms.
“Allright,Sabrina,onemorepush,”DoctorLauraordersfrombetweenSabrina’slegs.“Icanseethehead.Onemorepushandyou’llgettomeetyourdaughter.”
“Ican’t,”Sabrinamoans.
“Yes,youcan,”Isaygently,tuckingherhairbehindherears.“You’vegotthis.Onemorepush,that’sall.Youcandoit.”
Whenshestartscryingagain,Icupherchinandmeetherhazyeyes.“You’vegotthis,”Irepeat.“You’rethestrongestpersonI’veevermet.Youworkedyourwaythroughcollege,workedyourbuttofftogettolawschool,andnowyou’regoingtoworkateenybitharderanddeliverthisbaby.Right?”
Shetakesabreath,fortitudehardeningherfeatures.“Right.”
Andthen,afternearlytwentyhoursofhuffingandpuffingandblowingthehousedown,Sabrinadeliversahealthybabygirl.
Afterthetiny,slimyinfantdropsintoDoctorLaura’shands,there’sonesplitsecondofsilence,andthenahigh-pitchedwailfillsthedeliveryroom.
“Well,lungsseemhealthy,”thedoctorremarkswithasmile.Sheturnstome.“Youwanttocutthecord,Daddy?”
“Fuck.Yes.”
“Don’tswear,”Sabrinachides,whileDoctorLaurachuckles.
MyheartisinmythroatasIcutthecordthat’stetheringmydaughtertohermother.Icatchafleetingglimpseofaredgooeything,butanursesweepsheroutofsightsofastthatIcroakoutaprotest.Butthey’rejustweighingher,andwhiletheydo,thedocdoessomediscreetstitchingbetweenSabrina’slegs.
Iacheforeverythingshe’sgonethrough,butSabrinalooksmoreserenethanI’veeverseenher.
“Sevenpounds,threeounces,”thenurseannouncesasshegentlyplacesthebabyinSabrina’sarms.
Myheartexpandstotripleitssize.
“Ohmygosh,”Sabrinawhispers,staringdownatourdaughter.“She’sperfect.”
Sheis.She’ssofrickin’perfectthatI’mneartears.Ican’ttakemyeyesoffhertinyfaceandthetuftofauburnhaironhertinyhead.She’snolongercrying,andshe’sgotbigblueeyesthatstareupatus,curiousandunblinking.Herlipsareredandhercheeksarerosy.Andherfingersaresodamnsmall.
“Youdidgood,darlin’.”MyvoiceishoarseasIreachdowntostrokeSabrina’shair.
Shepeersupatmewithawondroussmile.“Wedidgood.”
*
Hourslater,we’rebothlyinginSabrina’shospitalbed,marvelingoverthelittlecreaturewebroughtintotheworld.It’sbeenabouttwenty-fourhourssinceSabrinacalledtotellmeshewasinlabor.She’ssupposedtostayherefortwonightssothedoctorscanmonitorherandthebaby,butbothofthemseemtobehealthy.
AlactationexpertstoppedbyanhouragototeachSabrinathepropertechniquesforbreastfeeding,andourdaughterhasalreadyprovenhowshe’sbetterthaneveryotherbabyalive,becauseshelatchedonrightawayandsuckledhappilyathermom’sbreastwhilewebothwatchedinpurewonder.
Nowshe’sfullandsleepyandlyinghalfinSabrina’sarms,halfinmine.NeverinmylifehaveIfeltmoreatpeacethaninthisverymoment.
“Iloveyou,”Iwhisper.
Sabrinastiffensslightly.Shedoesn’trespond.
IsuddenlyrealizethatsheprobablythinksI’mtalkingtothebaby.SoIadd,“Bothofyou.”
“Tucker…”There’sanoteofwarninginhervoice.
Iinstantlyregretopeningmymouth.AndsinceIdon’tparticularlywanttohearhersayshedoesn’tlovemebackormakeexcusesaboutwhyshecan’tsayit,Ipasteonacheerfulsmileandchangethesubject.
“Wereallyneedtopickaname.”
Sabrinabitesherlip.“Iknow.”
Itenderlyrunmythumboverourdaughter’sperfectlittlemouth.Shemakesasnifflingnoiseandstirsinourarms.“Shouldwetacklethefirstnameorthelastname?”
I’mhopingshepickstheformer.Wehaven’tevendiscussedfirstnamesbecausewe’vebeentoobusyarguingabouttheJames-Tuckerdilemma.
Sabrinasurprisesmebysaying,“Youknow…IguessJames-Tuckerisn’taterribleidea.”
Mybreathhitches.“JamesTucker.”
“That’swhatIsaid.”
“No,Imean,thatshouldbehername—JamesTucker.”
“Areyounuts?YouwanttonameherJames?”
“Yeah,”Isayslowly.“Whynot?WecancallherJamie.ButthebirthcertificatewillsayJamesTucker.Thatwayshe’sequalpartsbothofus,withoutthehyphenwebothseemtohate.”
Shelaughsandleansintokissourbaby’sperfectcheek.“Jamie…Ilikeit.”
Andthat’sthat.33
Sabrina
LittleJamesisinthebackofthetruck.Thenursewavestousfrominsidethefoyer.Ihaveabagfulloffreeshitsittingatmyfeet.Tucker’shandsareonthesteeringwheel.Butwe’renotmoving.
“Whyaren’twemoving?”
Tuckerswingshisbloodshoteyestowardthebackseat.“Wehaveababyinthistruck,Sabrina.”
“Iknow.”
Heswallowshard.“Thisisfuckedup.Weshouldn’tbeallowedtoleavethehospitalwithakid.I’veneverevenhadapetbefore.”
Ishouldn’tlaughatTucker’smisery.Infact,itsortofhurtstodoanythingbutsitinastill,slightlyreclinedposition.Buthisfrustrated,somewhatterrorizedexpressionissounlikehimthatIcan’tstopagigglefromescaping.Icovermymouthtomufflethesound,havinglearnedquicklyintheforty-eighthourssincethedeliverythatsleepisapreciousandall-too-scarcecommodityfornewparents.
“Ilovethatyou’retheonefreakingout.Startthecar,Tuck.Thefamilybehinduswantstoleave.”
Hetwiststopeerthroughthebackwindshield.“Theyalreadyhavetwokids.Let’sfollowthemhome.”
“Let’snot.”
Gingerly,IreachovertoJamie’scarseatandtugtheblanketdown,becauseeventhoughbabyJamieissleepingandIshoulddefinitelynotdisturbher,Ican’thelpbutwanttostareintoherbeautiful,wrinklyfaceagain.Hertinybabymouthisslightlypartedandherlittlebabyfistsareclenchedtightbyherside.
“Let’sgohome,”Isayfirmly.“Iwanttoholdher.”
Myarmsfeelempty.Yes,TuckandIareonlytwenty-twoyearsold.Neitherofushavesteadyjobs.I’mlivingathomewithmyangrynanaandmyassholestepfather.Tucker’slivingwithaguywhosedreamistobeanextraonthesetofEntourage.Andnowwehaveachildtogether.
ButlookingatJamie’ssweetface,allIcanthinkofishowmuchIloveher—andTucker.
IeasebackintomyseatandwatchasTuckergetsthetruckintogearandpullsoutslowly.Icouldwalkfasterthanhe’smovingthepickupalong,butatleastwe’releaving.Still,ittakesusnearlyforty-fiveminutestomakethedrivehomebecauseTuckermaintainsasteadyspeedoffivemilesunderthespeedlimit.
“I’msurprisedthateventheBostoncopflippingyouoffandhonkingdidn’tmakeyoudrivefaster.”
“Thatassholeshouldbewrittenup,”heretorts.“StaythereandI’llcomeandhelpyouout.”
I’velearnedintheselasttenmonthsthatTuckerreallygetsoffonhelpingmeoutofthetruck,andI’mnotgonnalie,I’mgettingusedtoit.
He’sgottheseold-schoolcourtlymanners.Like,doorsarealwaysheldopen.Ihavetowalkontheinsideofthesidewalkincasethere’sadrive-byshooting.Heevenholdsmycoat.
MamaTuckerraisedhimright.Icouldlearnalotfromher.Andsincewe’reboundtogetherbythischild,byherson,I’vedecidedthatwe’regoingtogetalong.Nomatterhowmanyarrowssheslingsmyway,I’mgoingtotakethemandprovetoherthatI’mgoodenoughtobethemotherofhergrandchild.
“IwonderifIshouldgetoneofthosebaby-on-boardsigns.Thatwaytheassholesbehindmecanlearnalittlepatienceinsteadoflayingonthehornlikewe’reallinsomemotherfuckingemergency,”Tuckergrumblesashehelpsmeout.
“What’sgoingtohappenwhenoneofthosefuckerscomestoyourdoorwantingtotakeJamieoutonadate?”
Tuckerstopsabruptly,causingmetocollidewithhisstiffback.“She’sgoingtoanall-girlsschool.”
“Okay,sowhathappensifoneofthosefuckersisafemalewantingtotakeJamieoutonadate?”
“Noneofthiswouldbeaproblem,”heaccuses,“ifwestayedinthehospitallikeIsuggested.”
IgiggleandbrushhimasidesoIcangettomygirl.“She’sstillsleeping.”
Hissolidframepressesintomybackasheleansovertopeekinside.“She’ssogorgeous.Ican’tbelievewemadeher,”hesaysquietlyagainstmyear.“I’mbuyingachastitybelt.”
“Idon’tthinksheneedsoneyet.”
“I’mthinkingahead.”Hegentlymovesmeasidetopluckthecarrieroutofthebase.
Iarchabrow.“Iheardyouoncehadathreesome.”
Henearlytripsonanon-existentcrackinthesidewalk.Alightcoughprecedeshisquery,“Athreesome?Who’dyouhearthatfrom?”
Ha!Hedoesn’tdenyit.Amused,Ibrushbyhimtogetthefrontdoor.“Carinheardit.Saiditwasalwaysthequietones.”
“NothreesomesforJamie,”hedeclares.“Maybeweshouldhomeschoolheruntilshe’sthirty.”
“We’returningintohypocrites.”
Tuckernodsenthusiastically.“Yup,andnoguilthere.”Rightbeforeheducksintothehouse,hemurmurs,“Bytheway,itwasafoursome.”
Igasp.“Twoguysandtwogirls?”
Hesmirks.“Threegirlsandme.”
“Wow.”I’mmoreimpressedthanangry.“Goodforyou,stud.”
Snickering,hepushesintothefronthallandkicksoffhisflip-flops.
Inside,thehouseissurprisinglyquiet.Raymuststillbeinbed,becausethetelevisionisonbutthevolumeislow,andinsteadofESPN,agameshowisplaying.
“Thatyou,Sabrina?”Nanacallsfromthekitchen.
“I’lltakethebabytothebedroom,”Tuckersays,tryingtokeepasquietaspossible.
Iheadtothekitchen.“Hey,Nana.I,ah,survived.”Iraisemyhandsinalamevictorypose.
Shewipesherhandsonatowel.Behindher,baconissizzlinginapanandthesmellofeggsandvanillafilltheair.Mystomachrumblesinappreciation.Hospitalfoodisterrible.
“Thebabysleeping?”
“Yup.”Iopentheovendoor.ThickslicesofgoldenFrenchtoastrestinasyrupofpeachjuice.Mymouthwaters.“Thislookssogood.”
“Youshouldeatandthengoliedown.Thesefirstfewweeksaren’teasy.”Shenudgesmetowardthetable,hertoneandhertouchsurprisinglyloving.
“DoyouwanttoseeJamie?”Iask,tryingnottosoundtoohopeful.CarinandHopehadvisitedyesterday,whereasNanahadstayedaway.Itdefinitelyhurtmyfeelings,butsinceNanaismygo-tocaregiver,Idon’twanttobeajerkaboutthis.
“She’ssleeping,”Nanasaysdismissively.“There’llbetimeenoughforholdingwhenthelittlethingwakesup.Babiesneversleepforlong—youhavetotakeadvantageofitwhileyoucan.Yourmanhere?”
“Righthere,Ms.James.WhatcanIhelpwith?”Tuckerstridesinwithpurpose,fillingupthesmallroomwithhistallframeandbroadshoulders.Whatevertrepidationhehaduponleavingthehospitalseemstohavewornoff.
“Yousitdowntoo.We’rehavingbreakfast.Frenchtoastandbacon.”
“IwishIcouldstay,butIhavetogo.Mybosscalledandoneofthecrewmembersfelloffaladderonajob.Hesaidhe’dpaymeextraifIcameonshortnotice.”
“Extramoney’sgood,”Nanasayswithanod.
Tuckerleansdowntokissmycheek.“Walkmeout?”
Igetupwithoutquestionandfollowhimoutsidetothetruck.NowthatIdon’thaveababybumpbetweenus,thingsfeelawkward.He’sseenmeatmyworst,though,andisstillstickingaround.“Thanksforeverything.”
“Ihaven’tdonemuch.”
“Youweretherewithme.That’salot.”
Herunshisthumbalongmyjawbone.“Youwereoutofitinthehospital.Doyouremembermuchofit?”
Likehowyoutoldmeyouloveme?
“Idon’tremembermuch,”Ilie.“Iwasoperatingonpureexhaustion.”
Hisfacetightenswithdisappointment.“Allright.Ifyouwanttoplayitthatway,I’llletitgofornow.”Heopensthedriver’sdoor.“I’llseeyouafterwork.Callmeifyouneedanything.”
IwanttotellhimIneedhimtosayhelovesmewhenI’mnotscreamingmyheadoffinpainorwhenI’mnotweepingabouthowscaredIamofmotherhood.
Adozenemotionsslideandpulsebeneaththethinmembraneofmyself-control.Feelingvulnerable,Istepback.“We’llbefine.Comewhenyoucan.”
Fromthewayhisjawhardensintogranite,Iknowit’snottheanswerhewants.
Withasmallwave,Ihurryinside,notwaitingtoseehimroaraway.Inthelivingroom,IfindNanaholdingJamie.
“Shewascrying,”Nanasaysdefensively.
“It’sfine,”Itellher,fightingasmile.“MindifIhopintheshower?Ifeelgross.”
“Yougoonahead.”HergazeisgluedtoJamie’sface.“Thislittleoneloveshergrandma,don’tyou?Don’tyou?”
Withalightenedheart,Ihittheshower.Nana’sclearlyhalfwayinlovewithJamiealready.Whowouldn’tbe,though?She’sthemostamazingthingintheworld.
Itakeagood,long,hotshower,whichtheydidn’tallowinthehospitalduetotheepidural.Despitethepain,itfeelsgoodtobeoutofthathospitalbed.Afterdryingoff,IthrowonapairofoldsweatsandaT-shirtandthenexaminemyreflectioninthemirror.
Mybodystillfeelsweirdandnotmyown.Thecapillariesinmyeyesburstduringlabor,soIlookdemonic,allred-eyedandwildhair.IcouldgiveHelenaBonhamCarterarunforherweird,crazymoney.Mytummyisstilllargeandround—onlynowit’ssquishyandsoft.Mybreastshavegrowntoenormous,comicalsizes.
It’sagoodthingIcan’thavesexforsixweeks.Ican’tevenlookatmypost-partumshapewithoutflinching,letalonewantTuckertolookatit.
“Youstilldoingthebreastfeedingthing?Ialwaysusedformula,andbothyouandyourmommaturnedoutfine.”NanaeyesmeexpectantlyasIjoinherinthelivingroom.
“They’vesaidit’sthebest.”
“Hmmmph.Imay’vereadsomethinglikethatinPeople.Well,youshouldprobablyfeedthepoortykethen.”
Shehandsthebabyover,andIcarefullytuckJamieagainstmychestandcarryhertomybedroom.Sittingontheedgeofthebed,Iliftuponesideofmyshirt,holdingitagainstmychestwithmychin,andthenliftJamieuptomyboob.Sherootsaroundlikealittleanimaluntilshefindsthenipple.Thankfully,shelatcheson.
Isighwithreliefandscootbackwardonthemattressuntilmyshouldershitthewall.Thelactationconsultantwarnedmethatbreastfeedingishardasfuck—well,shedidn’tusethosewordsexactly,butthatwasthegist—soI’mgratefulthatthisisgoingokayfornow.
Pickingupmyphone,Ione-handtypeacoupleoftexts.
Me:I’mhome.
Hope:WhencanIcomeover?
Carin:NO!!!!!!!Ihaven’tfinishedthebooties.Gobacktothehospital!
Me:UsoundlikeTucker.Hedidn’twanttoleaveeither.
Carin:ListentourBBdaddy.
Hope:She’snotgoingbacktothehospitalbcURnotdoneknitting.Hospitalsonlykeepyou2daysforaVbirth.HowRUfeeling?
Me:Tired.Scared.Tuckertoldmehelovedmeatthehospital.
Hope:OMG.
Carin:OMG.
Hope:What’dusay?
Carin:Shesaidshedoesn’tbelieveinlove,right?
Istickoutmytongueatthephone.
Me:IpretendedIdidn’thearhim.
Hope:OMG.
Carin:See!
Hope:That’stheworst.
Isit,though?Isitreally?
Me:Itwasanemotionaltime.Notholdinghimtoit.
Hope:URdumb.I’mendingmyfriendshipwithu.
Carin:She’sbeingunselfish.
Me:Thanku,C.
Hope:URstilldumb.
Me:Notdumb.Momhatesme.T’sforcedtoliveinBos.Don’twanthimtieddown.Tshldboutthere,hittingbars,tappingasses.
Carin:Itakethatback.URdumb.
Hope:See!
Carin:You’dkillanychickwholookedtwiceathim.
AnimageofTuckerwithanotherwoman,holdinganotherbabybesidesJamie,formsinmyhead,andadullachespringsupinmychest.Carin’snotwrongatall.I’mnotpreparedforTuckertomoveon,nomatterhownonchalantanduncaringItrytobe.
JamiereleasesasharpcryandIpeerdowntoseeherpreciousbabymouthrootingaroundforthenippleagain.
Me:Gottago.Babycrying.
Hope:Goodluck.
Carin:Don’twishhergoodluck.It’snotasportingevent.
Hope::PWhat’stheworstresponsetoI<3you?
Carin:Silenceandthen,“IwishIfeltthesame.”
Hope:I’mthinking“Why?”
Carin:Howabout“That’snice.”
Hope:Brutal.
Me:I’mdonehere.
Jamieopenshermouth,andthevolumethatcomesoutofherlungssurprisesevenme.It’slikethere’sanamplifierinherthroat.
“Shhhh.Shhhh.”Iwhirlaroundandplucktheblanketoutofhercarseat.IttakesafewtriesbeforeIhaveherbundleduplikeaburrito.Allthewhile,I’mshushingher.AtonofpeopleonlineswearbyasystemcalledtheFiveS’swhereyoushush,swaddle,swing,sideorstomachposition,and…dammit,Ican’tremembertheotherone.
Jamiedoesn’tlikethatI’veforgotten.Herfacecontortsintoapuckered,unhappymessasshebeltsoutheropinionofmymotheringskills.
“Shush,swaddle,swing,sideorstomach,sing?”Ihumafewbars.
Jamiewailson.
“JesusChrist,whatthehellisgoingoninthere?”Ray’supandpoundingonmydoor.
“Comeon,LittleJamie.Stopcrying.Mommy’shere.”
LittleJamiedoesn’tgiveafuck.Shescreamsevenlouder.
“Suck!”Ishoutintriumph.“Suckistheotherone!”
Ilungeforthedresserinthecorner,whereallofJamie’sparaphernaliaisstored.ThedoorburstsopenandNanacomesbustlingin.
“Whatareyoudoingtothatchild?”sheyellsoverthebaby.
“Toldyoushewasgoingtofuckup.”Ray’srightbehindherandcan’twaittoofferhisunwantedtwocents.
“Ray,that’senough.YougoeatyourFrenchtoast.”Nanapushesmeaside.“What’reyoulookingfor?”
“Pacifier.”Ifumblethroughtinyonesies,blankets,andburpingclothsuntilIfindapaci.
“Thoughtyouwerebreastfeeding,”NanacommentsasItrytoshovethepacifierintoJamie’smouth.HertongueisstrongerthanTucker’sninthgradegirlfriend’s.Igiveupaftershespitsitoutforthefifthtime.
“WhatdoIdo?”IaskNanaindesperation.
“Shewantsthenip,”Raysaysfromthedoor.
Isheright?Panicked,Iflipupmyshirt,notevencaringthatRaycanseemybarebreast.Jamielatchesonalmostimmediately,herwholebodyshakingfromthecrying.Smallhiccupsinterrupthersucks,butatleastthecryinghasstopped.Isagontothebedinrelief.
Inthemiddleoftheroom,Nanashakesherhead.“Youshouldn’thaveevergotherhookedontheboob.Nowthat’sallshe’severgonnawant.”
“Ilikeit.”Raygivesmeasmarmythumbs-up.“Nicetits,Rina.”
“Getout,”Isnap,lettinggoofmytop.Jamiegivesalittlecryasthefabricfallsoverherface.“Seriously,justgetout.Nana,please.”
“Youshould’veusedabottle,”Nanachides.
“Youshouldtakeyourshirtoff,”isRay’shelpfulsuggestion.
Iclenchmyteeth.“Ineedsomeprivacy.Please.”
“Howyougoingtofeedherwhileyou’reatclass?”Nanaasks.
Jamiestartscryingagain.IpulluptheshirtdespitethefactthatRayisleeringatme.IsendanotherpleadingglancetoNana,whofinallymovestowardthedoor.
“Yougoonnow,Ray.Yourbreakfastisgoingtogetcold.”
“Thisisn’tgoingtowork,Joy,”hemutters.“Thatkidcan’tbeattachedtoRina’stitallday.”
“Leavethemalone.”Nanashootshimadirtylookbeforeaddressingme.“Babiescry.”
Evenbeforethedoorshuts,Iwhipoffmyshirt.JamiequietsasIdirectmynippleintohermouth.Whenshelatchesagain,thetensionstartstoleechoutofme.
Holyshit.
Idon’tknowifIcansurvivethis.Herlittleheadisdwarfedbymygiantboob,butwhenhereyesopenandherhandstartskneadingme,somuchlovefloodsthroughmysystemthatIgrowweak.
Thewholefeedingprocesstakeslessthanfifteenminutes.It’stheonlyfifteenminutesofpeaceIhaveforthenexttwohours.Ican’tputherdown.EverytimeItry,shestartstocry,whichsetsoffaboutofscreamingbetweenRay,Nana,andme.SoIendupcarryingheraround,learningtoeatwithonehand,changingherdiaperusingthreediapersbecauseItearoffthetapesofthefirsttwo.
BythetimeTuckerchecksinatnoon,I’manexhaustedmess.
“Yourdaddy’scalling,”ItellJamieasshestaresatmeoutofslittedeyes.I’vecollapsedontothefloor,holdingherbundledframeinmyarms.
“How’sitgoing?”heaskswhenIanswerthephone.
“I’vehadbetterdays.”IhitchJamieatadhigheronmyshoulder.Herfaceburrowsintomyneck.“ButIthinkyou’reright.Weshouldn’thaveleftthehospital.”
“There’snogoingbacknow.”
“Youhavenoidea.”
“Tellmeaboutyourmorning.”
AndI’msogratefultohearhiscalmvoice,Inearlyburstoutintears.SomehowImanagetoholdittogether,tellinghimabouthowJamie’sgoingtowinOlympicmedalsinweightliftingbecauseshe’salreadystrongasfuckorthatshecouldbeamagicianbecauseshe’sabletowiggleoutofeveryblanketI’vetriedtowrapherin.
Tuckerlaughsandencouragesme,andbythetimeIgetoffthephone,I’mconvincedIcandothis.34
Sabrina
September
Motherhoodishard.HarderthanIeverimaginedanythingcouldbe.It’sharderthanstudyingformySATs.MyLSAT.MorechallengingthanthatpaperIhadtowritefortheWomen’sStudiescourseinmyfreshmanyearthatcamebacktomelookingliketworedpenshadengagedinamurder/suicideallovermytypewrittenwords.Moretiringthanworkingtwojobsandtakingafullloadofclassesforfouryears.
MyrespectforNanaisthroughtheroof.IfIhadtoraiseonekidaftertheother,I’dbealittlecrankytoo.ButwithherhelpandTucker’s,I’vefallenintoaroutinethatseemstowork,andbythetimethesecondweekofclasseslaunches,I’mconvincedI’vegotthis.Afterall,I’monlyinclassthreehours—atthemost—aday.AndI’mnotworkingtwojobs.
Thisiseasy.
Easy.
UntilIstumbleoutofmylastclassFridayofthatsecondweek,ladenwithmybottles,tubes,fivepoundsofbooks,andmycomputerwithaclassassignmentofmorethanathousandpagesofreadingfortheweekend.Theykeeppilingup.WhenProfessorMalcolmannouncedwe’dneedtoreadtheentirechapteronculpabilityandintent,Iwaitedforsomeone—anyone—toobject.Butnoonedid.
Afterclass,noneofmypeersappeartobeaffectedbythefactthatwe’reprettymuchrequiredtoreadwhatseemslikeanentiresemester’sworthofcourseworkintwodays.Instead,threekidsinmyrowdecidetoconductanintensediscussionaboutHarvard’sgradingsystem,whichtheyalreadyshould’veknownaboutbeforetheyevenenrolled.
Iwaitimpatientlyforthemtowrapuptheconversationsowecanallgetthehelloutoftheclassroom.Ineedtostartreading,butmoreimportantly,mybreastsfeellikethey’reabouttoburst.Ihaven’tfedJamiefornearlythreehoursandifIdon’tgettothelibrary’slactationroom,I’mgoingtoendupleakingallovermydamnshirt.
“Idon’tlikethisnolettergradesthing.Honors,Pass,LowPass,andFail?”grousesthesharp-nosedblondboynexttome.
“IheardthatLPsarereallydiscouraged.It’seitherHonorsorPass.YoureallyhavetofuckuptogetaFail,”saysthegirlbesidehim.Hercheekbonesaresofiercetheycouldcutthroughmyentiretextbook.
Imakeabigshowofgatheringupallmyshitandstuffingitintomymessengerbag,butnoone’smoving.Instead,anothergirl,wearingapeasantskirtthattriggersbadmemoriesofHippieStacy,chimesin.
“MycousingraduatedfromhereayearagoandsaidthatBigLawcalculatestheirowngradesbasedonyourH,Ps,andLPs,soitworksallthesame.HisanA,andsoforth.”
“Mybigcomplaintisthatonlyonepersongetstobesummacumlaude.Atanyotherlawschool,ifyougetthegrades,yougetthedesignation.Havingonlyoneisshitty,”Cheekbonesdeclares.
PeasantSkirtreassuresher.“YoucangettheDS,though.”
“Still,onlyacouplepeoplegettheDean’sScholartoo.”
“They’resostingywiththeirhonors,”theguyadds.
Iclearmythroat.Theycontinuetoignoreme.
“Butit’sHarvard,sothebigsaregoingtolookatyouanyway,”Cheekbonessayswiththenonchalanceofsomeonewho’ssecureinherpostgraduateprospects.“HowsooncanyoustartbiddinginEIP?”
“Earlyinterviewprogram?”PeasantGirlsmirks.“Settledown,gunner.Secondyearonly.Learnhowtowriteamemofirst.”
ShesharesalookofderisionwiththeboyasCheekbonesflushesslightly.It’snofuntobethebuttofjokes,whichspursmetounwiselyjumpin.
“I’mnotsoworriedaboutthegradesasIamtheamountofreadingwe’regoingtohavetodo.I’dliketogetaheadstartonitthisafternoon.”Hint.Hint.Movethehellalong,people.
Cheekbonesliftsherchin,happytobetheinsulterinsteadoftheinsulted.“Thatisn’thard.HardispickingtherightLawReviewarticletopic.Readinganddigestingafewcasesisacakewalk.”
Sheturnswithacontemptuousswishofhair,gathersherbooksandleavesmeopen-mouthedbehindher.Thetwootherstudentsfollow.TheguywhisperstoPeasantSkirt,“Hey,Iheardthere’sanapplication-onlystudygroup.I’minterested.HowdoIgetin?”
Shesniffs.“Ifyouhavetoask,youdon’tbelong.”
Lovely.Atleastwe’removing.
Myboobsacheasifmybodyisgettingreadytoletallthemilkout.Hurrying,Imovetowardthedoor,brushingbytwoclassmateswhohavestoppedtochatwithanotherstudent.Don’tthesekidshaveanythingbettertodothanstandaroundandshoottheshit?
Outside,astudentishandingoutbrochures.Igraboneandstopinmytracks.It’saninvitationtoattendaninformationalcourseonhowtogetonLawReview.Themeetingisinfifteenminutes.Mychestthrobs.
“Yourshirt’ssprungaleak,”anamusedmalevoicesays.
Idropmychintoseewhathe’stalkingaboutandblanchatthesightoftwodampspotsrightaroundmynippleareas.
“Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingon,butmaybeyoushouldseeadoctorforthatinfection.That’snasty.”
Irecognizehiminstantly.Kalesomethingorother,theassholefromthelegalclinic.HishairisKen-dollneat,plasteredtothesideofhisface.Everythingabouthimscreamsexpensiveandprivileged.Henudgestheguynexttohim,wholooksutterlygrossedout.
Islapthebrochureagainsthischest.“I’mbreastfeeding,youdouche.”
IswearIhearamooingsoundbehindme,butwhenIturnaround,bothguysarewalkingaway.
Ittakesmefifteenminutestowalkacrosscampus.Witheachstep,Idripmore.Myemotionsareacrossbetweenembarrassment,angerandfrustration.EmbarrassmentthatI’mleakingallover.AngerthatIevencarewhatthatfuckfacethinks.Andfrustrationthatallmypreciousbreastmilkisfillingmybracupsandstainingmyshirt.Crossingmyarmsovermychestdoesn’tdoanygood.Thepressuremakesthemilkcomeoutfaster.
BythetimeIgettothelibrary,I’mafuckingmess.Thereferenceclerkwhoholdsthekeystothelactationroomgingerlyhandsitover,carefulnottomakeanycontactwithmyflesh.
AwomanisjustleavingasIarrive.“Allyours,”shesayscheerfully.
“Thanks,”ismydourresponse.
ShecatchesthedoorasIstartinside.“Badday,huh?”
Hervoiceissokindandunderstanding,Inearlybreakdown.“Youhavenoidea,”Ianswer,butthenrealizeshe,ofallpeople,probablydoeshaveanidea.“Ormaybeyoudo.Butyeah,it’sbeenashitday.”
“Holdonasec.”Shedigsaroundinherbag.“Here.”Shehandsmeasmallplasticpackage.“IactuallyhaveasecondsetandI’veneverusedthem.”
“What’sthis?”Iturnthepackageover,examiningthepetal-shapedsiliconpads.
“Youstickthemonyournipplesandtheystoptheleaking.”
“Seriously?”Igapeather.
“Yep.They’renotperfect,andifyouwaittoolong,themilkwilleventuallyweartheadhesionoff,buttheydowork.”
Iclenchthepackagetightinmyfist,filledwithoverwhelmingrelief.Ihavetofightoffthetearsagain.“IwouldhugyourightnowifIwasn’tallgross.Butthankyousomuch.”Ispotadistinctiveredtextbookwithblackandgoldletteringonthespinestickingoutofherbag.“1L?”Iask.
“Thirdyear,actually.IwashopingtowaituntilIwasdonewithschoolbeforethisallhappened.”Shewavesherhandattheinsulatedlunchbagshe’scarrying.Hermilkmustbeinthere.“Howaboutyou?”
“1L.”
Shegrimaces.“Goodluck,honey.Justremember,everyyeargetseasierafterthefirstone.Andthefirstoneisreallyjustawarofattrition.”Shepatsmeontheback.“You’llbefine.”
Islipinsideandattachmyselftothemedicalgradepump.It’satrektogettoWidenerLibraryfromthelawschool,butthepumpengineishere,whichmeansIonlyneedtocarrymybottles,hornsandtubes,andIdidn’thavetospringforthecostofanexpensiveportablepumpingmachine.Mycheckingaccountisalreadyweepingfromtheravagingthatmytextbooksdidtoit.
Iundomysilkbutton-downandpulloffmybra.Ishouldbegrossedout,butI’mtoodamntired.I’mmostlyvaguelyirritatedgiventhatittakestwentyminutesforthestupidmachinetopullouttwoouncesoffoodfrommyboobsthatJamiedoesn’tevenwanttoeat.
Rockinginthechair,Ipulloutmyphonetoreadmytexts.HopeandCarinmessagedme,butIskipthoseandtaponTucker’sname.
Tucker:WentovertoseeJoverlunch.
UnderneaththemessageisapictureofJamiesleepinginthecrookofhisarm.Myheartsqueezes,andtheplacebetweenmylegs—whichIfiguredwasdeadfromlabor—pulseswildly.There’snothingsexierthanalovingdad.
Tuckermakesallmyhormonesdoagiddydance.
Me:She’ssuchanangel.
Tucker:Ihateleavingher.
Me:Ileakedbreastmilkallovermyshirt.Itwashorriblyembarrassing.
Tucker:Awww.Poorbaby.I’llcomeoverlaterandruburback.
Me:Ihave1000pagestoreadandthat’snotevenanexaggeration.
Tucker:I’lltakecareofJ.Ustudy.
Me:I’lltakeuuponthat.
Tucker:Good.Uneverletmedoenough.
BecauseIdon’twanttodriveyouaway.
Ofcourse,Idon’ttypethat.
Me:You’rethebestdadJcouldeveraskfor.
Tucker:Uhavelowstandards,babe,butIlikeit.
Me::)
Me:I’mgoingtotakeanapnowwhileallmylifebloodissuckedoutofme.IlooklikeI’mpartoftheMatrix,pluggedintoamachine.
Tucker:Didutaketheredpillortheblueone?
Me:WhichonemakesJamiegotosleep?That’stheoneI’lltake.
Tucker:I’llgobuyanrxofAmbien.
Me:ToobadI’mnotallowedtotakethat.
Tucker:Mymomsaidhermomusedtorubbrandyonhergumstogethertogotosleep.
Me:HopefullyDHSisn’tspyingonthesemessages.Diditwork?
Tucker:Idunno.I’llleaveabottleofbrandynexttotheAmbien.
Me:See.Bestdadever.
Tucker:LOL.Gotosleep,darlin.
*
HopeandCarinboughtmeabookcalled“GotheFucktoSleep.”I’vereadittoJamieahundredtimes.Itdoesn’twork.Thatthingistrash.OvertheweekendJamiedecidesshe’sallergictosleep.TheonlytimesheevencloseshereyesiswhenI’mmoving.
WhileIcanreadandwalkatthesametime,simultaneoussleepingandwalkingisbeyondmyabilities,whichiswhyIstartmythirdweekoflawschooleighthundredpagesbehind.Idragmyselfintoclass,havingnotreadevenonewordformycontractsclass.Imadeitthroughcriminallaw,butthatwasit.
HopefullyProfessorClivewillcallonanyonebutmetoday.
“Lastweek,wewentoverthefirsttwoelementsformingacontract.Mr.Bagliano,pleasesharewiththeclassthosetwoelementsandtheholdingofthe1898Carlillcase.”
Mr.Bagliano,wholooksasItalianashislastnamesounds,obedientlyrecitesthetwoprincipleswelearnedearlier.“Offerandacceptance.The1898Carlillcasediscussedwhetheranadvertisementcouldbeconstruedasanoffer.ThecasewasdecidedbytheEnglishCourtofAppeals,whoheldthatyes,itwasabindingunilateralofferthatcouldbeacceptedbyanyonerespondingtotheadvert.”
“Excellent,Mr.Bagliano.”ProfessorCliveconsultshissheetofpaperthatIpresumehasallofournames.
Iclosemyeyesandpraythatmynamemagicallydisappears.
“Ms.James,tellusthethirdelementofacontractandtheholdingoftheBordencase.”
Asmyheartplummetstomystomach,IdesperatelyscantheroomasifsomehowIcanreadtheanswerintheeyesofoneofmyclassmates.Nolightbulbappearsoveranyone’shead,leastofallmine.
Besideme,aguywhosenameIhaven’tmadetheefforttolearnmutterssomethingoutofthesideofhismouth.Itsoundslikeconfederation.Thatdoesn’tseemright.Hecoughs“confederation”againintohishand.Nervouslaughterspreadsacrosstheroomwhilemycheekslightupliketwinflames.
Downinthefrontofthelecturebowl,ProfessorClive’slipsthin.“Mr.Gavrielissayingconsideration,Ms.James.”Heshiftshisgazetothepoorguynexttome.“Mr.Gavriel,sinceyouknowtheanswer,perhapsyoucansharetheholdingofthecase?”
Mr.GavrielshootsmeasympatheticlookbeforewhippingouthisperfectlyconstructednotesandproceedingtodiscussmutualityandillusorypromisesandothershitthatIdon’thavethefirstclueabout.
IcasuallydrawanotebookovermyownchickenscratchingwheretheinkissmearedandbleedingthroughthepagefromwhereIdrooledonitwhenIfellasleep,alongwithahealthydoseofbreastmilkandbabyspit.
It’shardtohearthelastofthelecturewithembarrassmentroaringinmyeardrums,butItakecopiousnotesinthehopesthatwhenIreviewthiscraplater,itwillallmakesense.
Afterclassisover,ProfessorClivegesturesformetojoinhiminthefrontoftheroom.
Hesteepleshisfingersbelowhischin.“Ms.James,ProfessorFrommsharedwithmeyourhomecircumstance,andwhileIcanappreciatehowdifficultthatmustbe,thestandardsinclassarenotmodifiedduetomotherhood.”
Stiffly,Ireply,“Ididn’tthinkthattheywouldbe.Iapologizeabouttodayandpromisethattherewon’tbeanylapsesinthefuture.”
“Icertainlyhopenot,butthenagain,wegradeonacurveandsomeonehastobeonthebottom.”
Iraisemyhandtoscratchmyneck,notbecauseIitch,butbecauseoftheoverwhelmingurgetoflickhimoff.
“Itwon’tbeme,”Iassurehim.
Hepeersatmeforalong,uncomfortablemomentbeforedismissingmewithaslightnod.“We’llsee.”35
Tucker
SabrinashowsupatmyapartmentonFridayafternooncartingenoughstufftofillanentirebabystore.EversinceJamiewasborn,I’velearnedIcannolongerleavethehousewithonlymywallet,phoneandkeys.
Nope.JusttakingJamieforashortwalkrequiresadiaperbagoverflowingwitheverythingfrombabywipestopacifierstothetinystuffedduckthatshescreamsbloodymurderifyoutrytotakeawayfromher.Plusthestroller,herhat,extraclothesincaseshespitsuponherself.
Andwithallthatgearonhand,halfthetimeIdon’tendupusingmorethanadiaperandbottle,renderingtherestofthestuffuseless.
Idon’tmind,though.Ilovebeingadad.IwishIgottoseeSabrinaandthebabyeveryday,allday,butrightnowIonlygetafewfulldaysaweekandmynightlyvisitstoSabrina’shouse.EachtimeI’mthere,Ioffertospendthenightandshegentlyshakesherhead.Ithinkshefeelsuncomfortablehavingmearoundhershadystepfather,andthemoreIgettoknowRay,themoreIhatehim.Thebastardisrude,crudeandlewd.He’snotagooddude.Yep,Dr.Seusscouldwriteaseriesofadultrhymingbooksaboutthatcreep.
“Hey.”Sabrinapushesthestrollerthroughthenarrowfrontdoor,andIdon’tmissthedarkcirclesunderhereyes.
Whenwespokeearlierthismorning,shesaidshehadn’tcaughtawinkofsleepbecauseJamiewokeherupeveryotherhour.Ourdaughterhasavoraciousappetite,andIknowforafactthatshelovesSabrina’stitsasmuchasIdo,becausewheneveryoutrytobottlefeedherwithbreastmilk,ittakestwiceaslongaswhenshe’sonthebreast.
“Hey.How’smygirltoday?”Iaskwithasmile.
“Surprisinglychipperconsideringshekeptmeupallnight.”
“Imeantyou,darlin’.”Rollingmyeyes,Ileanintokissher.
She’swearingsomefruity-tastinglip-gloss—strawberry,Ithink.Andit’ssodeliciousthatIdipmymouthforanothertaste.Iswipemytongueoverherbottomlipandgroansoftly.
Fuck,Iwanttostandhereandkissherforever.Orevenbetter—ripherclothesoffandlosemyselfinherbodyforaweekstraight.Butoursixweeksaren’tup,andeveniftheywere,I’mnotsureSabrinaevenwantssex.She’ssotiredallthetime,wellonherwaytobecomingazombie.
Idon’tknowhowshe’smanagingtoattendclasses,getherreadingdone,writepapers,andstillbethereforourdaughter.It’satestamenttoherstrengthanddetermination,Iguess,thoughIwishshe’dletmedomoretoeaseherstress.Hell,evenaskinghertocomeovertoday,whereshecanstudyinsilencewhileItakecareofthebaby,requiredathirty-minutedebatebeforesheeventuallycaved.She’shavingatoughtimestudyingathome,withhergrandmotherconstantlychattingherearoffaboutwhattheKardashiansareuptowhileRaystumblesinandoutofthekitchentogetafreshbeer.
Here,Ihavearoommatewhoworksduringtheday,soit’sniceandquiet.Plus,Ihaven’tbeengettingmuchconstructionworklatelyduetoarecentspateofnon-stoprain,sothislastweekI’vebeenathome,bummingaroundandresearchingvariousbusinessventures.
Whenadisgruntledsquawkcomesfromthestroller,Ichucklesoftly.
“Thelittleprincessdoesn’tlikebeingignored,huh?”IsquatinfrontofthestrollerandcarefullyundothevarioussnapsandbucklesthatarekeepingJamiesecure.ThenIliftherintomyarms,onehandcuppinghertinybutt,theothersupportingherneckasIholdherupinfrontofme.
Asalways,thesightofhertakesmybreathaway.She’sthemostbeautifulbabyintheworld.Evenmymomsaysso.Isendherpicseverydayandshe’sconstantlymarvelingabouttheperfectionthatisJamesTucker.MomisdyingtomeetJamieinperson,butshecan’tgetawayuntiltheholidays,whicharestillacoupleofmonthsout.Fornow,thedailypicturesseemtobepacifyingher.
“How’sDaddy’slittleangelthismorning?”
Jamiegurglesandflashesmeatoothlesssmile.Andyes,it’stotallyasmile.Sabrinakeepsinsistingit’sgas,butIthinkIknowwhenmyowndaughterisgrinningatme,thankyouverymuch.
Ikissherimpossiblysoftcheekandshenuzzleshersweetfaceagainstmypec.Asharpstingimmediatelyjoltsthroughmynipple.Iyelpashereagermouthtriestolatchon.
Shit,IforgotIwasn’twearingashirt.Brodydoesn’tliketoturnontheairconditioningifwedon’thaveto,somostofthetimeweleavethewindowsopen.I’vetakentowalkingaroundinbasketballshortsandnothingelse.
“Easy,darlin’,”Ichide,easingherfaceaway.
Hermouthopensandclosesrapidlyasshetriestosuckonair,whichmeltsmyheart.
IlookuptoshareasmilewithSabrina,onlytofindthatherdarkeyesareglazedandhermouthishangingopen.
Iwrinklemyforehead.“What?”
Ittakesherasecondtoanswer.Whenshedoes,hervoiceisatadhusky.“You’vejustprovidedmewithabouthundredsofhours’worthofspankbankmaterial.”
Ichokeoutalaugh.“Jesus,Sabrina.You’regettingoffonourdaughtertryingtonurseonme?”
“No,Igetoffonthat.”Shegesturestous.
Istilldon’tgetit.
“Agorgeous,bare-chestedmanholdingatinyinfant?”sheprompts.“It’sthehottestthingI’veeverseeninmylife.”
Damnedifmydickdoesn’tstiffenbeneathmyshorts.“Yeah?”Isayslowly.
“Ohyeah.”Shesighs.“Damnyou,Tuck.NowI’llneverbeabletoconcentrateonContractstoday.”
“I’llputonashirt,”Ioffergraciously.
“Youdothat.”Sabrinasetsdownthediaperbag,butholdsontothemessengerbaghangingoffherothershoulder.Shestalkstowardthelivingroomtable,dropsthebag,andstartstakingoutherbooks.
Iwhistleundermybreath.Man,she’sbeenluggingaroundthatheavydiaperbaginonehandandallthosetextbooksintheother?She’sthefreakingHulk.
“Howwasclassthismorning?”
“Long-winded.”Sheglancesoverhershoulder.“ShouldIstudyouthereorinyourroom?”
“Youmightaswellstayouthere.”IshiftJamietomyotherarm,lovingthesmallweightofherandthelittlecheekpressedagainstmybareshoulder.“Iwasthinkingoftakingtheprincessforawalkaroundtheblock.”
Sabrinanods.“Okay,butmakesureyoukeepheroutofthesun.”
Inodback.We’vebothreadthesamebooks,soIknowdirectsunlightisharmfulforbabies.WheneverItakeJamieout,Imakesureshe’swearingherhatandishiddensafelybeneaththestroller’sshadescreen.Iprettymuchtreatherlikeshe’savampire.
“MindholdingontothispreciouscargowhileIthrowonashirt?”
Sabrinaopensherarms,andIdepositJamieintothem.MychestturnstohotgooasIwatchSabrinabenddowntosmacktinykissesonJamie’scheeksandforehead.Inresponse,Jamiewigglesaroundlikeawormandpumpsherfistsintheair.Shehasn’tlearnedtolaughyet,atleastnotwithhervocalcords,butI’vediscoveredthathersquirmingbodyisasignthatshe’shavingfun.
Iduckintomyroomandthrowonawifebeater,thenrollonapairofathleticsocksandshovemywalletandphoneinmybackpocket.Inthefronthall,IlaceupmysneakersbeforecollectingJamieandhermountainofstuff.Onceshe’sbuckledupinthestroller,Iwheelittowardthedoor,whileSabrinagivesusalittlewave.
“Studyhard,Mommy,”Itease.
“Havefun,”sheanswersabsently.She’salreadyscribblingsomethingonayellowlegalpad,hergazefocusedononeofherlawbooks.
Ittakesabitofstrategicmaneuveringtopushthestrollerintothecrampedelevator.Afewminuteslater,JamieandIstrollalongthesidewalk.Thesunhasdecidedtoduckbehindathickgraycloud,leavingtheskyovercast,soIraiseJamie’sshadescreenacoupleinchessoshecanenjoythescenery.
Andshe’snottheonlyoneenjoyingit.AnotherthingI’velearnedsinceIhadakid?Womengonutswhentheyseemewiththebaby.
EverytimeI’mpushingthestrollerdownthestreet,Ifindmyselfwithdozensofgroupies.ChickswillstopmeoutofnowheretogushandcoooverJamie.Theyalmostalwaysscopeoutmyhandtocheckforaweddingringandthennodinsatisfactionwhentheydon’tseeone.Thebolderoneshavezeroproblemsflat-outaskingifthelittleangel’smomisstillinthepicture.
They’realwaysthoroughlydisappointedwhenIinformthemthatthemotherisverymuchinthepicture.ThenI’llflashapolitesmile,bidthemgoodday,andkeeponwalking.TheonetimeLoganjoinedmeforoneofthesestrolls,he’dshakenhisheadinamazement,remarkingthatitwasashamenoneofusweresingle,becauseJamie’sachickmagnet.
Myfriendsadoreher.Iknowtheywishtheygottoseehermoreoften,butwe’veallgotourownbusylivestolead.Sincethehockeyseasonstarted,Garrett’sbeenpracticinghardandisconstantlyontheroadforawaygames.Logan’strainingequallyhardwiththedevelopmentteam,andheandGracearestillsettlingintotheirnewapartment.Despitethat,theyalldriveouttoseeJamieanytimetheyhaveafreemoment.Hannah,especially,who’sonlyworkingpart-timeatthemomentandwritingsongsontheside.
“Hey,lookatthat,littledarlin’,”Itellmydaughteraswestopatthecrosswalk.“It’sadoggie.”
Saiddoggietriestosniffthestrollerasheandhisownersidleuptous.Anddamn,Ishould’vekeptmymouthshut,becausenowI’veattractedtheowner’sattention.
“Ohmy!Lookatthispreciouslittleangel!”
ShecrouchesdownandstartspawingatJamie,whichmakesmebristle.Isthisnormal?Strangersconstantlytryingtotouchyourbaby?Becauseithappenswaytoooftenformyliking.
ThewomanpressesakisstoJamie’stinyfingers,andImakeamentalnotetowipethemdownthesecondwe’reoutofsight.Hell,I’dhoseherdownifIdidn’tthinkit’dhurther.Idon’twantallthesegermsallovermykid.
“What’shername?”thewomanasks.
“Jamie.”Istaresteadilyatthecrosswalksignal,willingthelittlegreenmantopopupbeforethechickstartsflirting.
“Andwhat’sherdaddy’sname?”
Toolate.“Tucker,butmywifecallsmeTuck.”
Thatshutsherupfast.NormallyI’mnotthisrudeduringtheserandomstreetpick-ups,butIreallydon’tlikethewayshetouchedmychildwithoutpermission.Fuckthat.
Oncethelightturnsgreen,Iswiftlypushthestrollerforward,murmuringgoodbyeatthewomanandherdog.
“Well,atleastthedoggiewascute,right,darlin’?”
Shedoesn’tanswer,butitdoesn’tmatter.I’vetakentocarryingonentireconversationswiththiskid.Ifinditkindofsoothing.
“Seethatoverthere?That’saswingset,”Iinformheraswewalkbyasmallpark.“Whenyou’reabitolder,Daddy’sgonnatakeyouthereandpushyouontheswing.”
Iwalktwomoreblocks,speedingupwhenwenearanadulttoystore.“Andthat’saplaceyou’llnevergointo,”Isaycheerfully.“Becauseyou’renever,evergoingtohavesex,right,princess?”
There’saloudsnort.
Iglanceovermyshouldertoseeanelderlycouplewalkingbehindme.TheyremindmeabitofHiramandDoris.Man,Iwonderwhatthosetwoareupto.Ikindofwishwe’dgottentheircontactinfoafterthatkickassnakedpaintingdate.
“Goodluckwiththat,”themancallstomewithacrookedgrin.
“Fourdaughters,”thewomanconfirms.“PoorFreddieoverherecouldn’tconvinceasingleoneof’emtostayvirgins.”
Igrinback.“Obviouslyhedidn’ttryhardenough.Didyouconsiderpurchasingashotgun?”
Thecoupleroarswithlaughter.
JamieandIkeepstrollingforafewmoreminutes,untilIsuddenlycometoadeadstopatafamiliarcorner.Ihaven’tbeentoPaddy’sDivesincethenightSabrinawentintolabor,butsomehowI’vefoundmywaybacktoitnow.
Andthere’saFORSALEsigninthewindow.36
Sabrina
“I’msorryI’mlate,”IapologizeasIslideintoachairatDella’s.
CarinandHopealreadyhavetheirdrinks,andbythepoolofcondensationonthetable,I’mlaterthanIrealized.Ortheywereearly.EversinceJamiewasborn,Ihaveahardtimegettinganywhereontime.
“Where’sthebaby?”Carinasks,dismissingmytardinesswithanairywaveofherhand.
“She’swithNana.”Igrabthemenu,quicklysearchingitforthejuiciest,meatiestthingIcanfind.
Bothgirlspout.“Wewantedtoseethebaby!”Hopecries.
“Yeah.ThewholepointisforyoutobringJamiesowecancoooverher.I’malmostdonewiththebooties.”Carinpullsoutamessofyarnthatlooksnothinglikeashoeorevenasock.
“Whatisthatthing?”Ilaydownthemenutogetabetterviewoftheobjectshe’sholdingup.It’skindoflikethewoolequivalentofLogan’shorrifyingteddybear.
“It’sasock.Isittoobigortoosmall?”ShestretchesitoutandIvaguelyseesomethingshiplikeinthemess.
“It’s…areyousurethat’sasock?”
Hopegigglesbehindhermenu.
Carinscowlsatme.“Haveyouevertriedknitting?It’shardasfuck,thankyouverymuch.”Withasniff,shestuffsthemottledmessinherbag.
“Besidesknitting,whichIdoappreciate,how’sMIT?”
Hopelightsup.“Carinknockedbeardoffherbucketlist.”
“Nice.”Igiveherathumbs-up.“Tellmeaboutit.”
“Nah,it’snothing.”Carinliftsthemenuuptohideherface.
“Mr.BeardisCarin’sTA,”Hopeexplains.“Shethinksyou’llbepissed.”
“He’snotmyTA,”Carinobjects.
“Okay,fine,”Hoperelents.“He’stheTAinanotherclass,whichCarinwilllikelytakenextyear.”
“Eh.I’mfinewithit.”Ipickupmymenuagainandstudymychoices.
I’mtornbetweentheburgerwithbluecheeseandthePhillysteaksandwich.CanIeveneatbluecheese?IlowerthemenutoaskHope,onlytofindmyfriendsstaringatme.
“What?”Myeyesdroptomychestinapanic.“AmIleaking?”No,myshirtisdry,thankGod.Thoselittlesiliconnippadsareworkinggreat.
“Wethoughtforsureyou’dbeupsetoverthisbecauseoftheDeanthing,”Carinexplains.
“DeanandIkindofmadeup.”IfmebreakingdownandDeangivingmeawkwardpatsonthebackcountsasmakingup.Which,inmybook,does.Plus,asfarasIknow,hehasn’tsaidawordtoTuckeraboutthefactthatI’mmadlyinlovewiththeguy.
“Well,that’sgood.”
Thewaitressshowsupandweallorder.Hopegetsasalad,Carinorderssoupandsalad,andIorderthePhillycheesesteakwithasideoffriesbecauseI’msohungry.
“How’smedschool?”IaskHope.
“It’sgoingokay.Thecourseloadiscrushing.”
“Ihearyou.”
“MedschoolissappingallmyenergytothepointthatIdon’thavetimeforD’Andre.HekeepstalkingaboutskiingfromsunuptosundownoverChristmasbreak,andallIwanttodoislieinfrontofthelodgefireplaceandsleep.Idon’tknowhowyou’redoingit.”
“Iwouldn’tbeabletodoitwithoutTucker.He’salwaysthere.Well,mostofthetime,”Icorrect.Becauselately,he’sbeenreallybusyandI’vebeenquietlypanicking.
Hopefrowns.“Ohno.Istheretroubleinparadise?”
“No,notreally.He’sdoingmorethanIeverdreamedof,actually.Itmakesmefeelguilty.”
“Ohfuckthat,”Carinsays.“Thisishiskidtoo.Isheslackingoff?BecauseIwillkickhisassfromheretotheharborforyou.”
“No,notatall.It’s…”Ipause,hesitanttogivemyfearavoice,asifsayingthewordswillmakethemtrue.Butthesetwoaremyclosestfriends,soIgiveintotheurge.“Ithinkhe’sfoundsomeoneelse.”
“No.”Hopedeniesitimmediately.“Whenwouldhehavethetime?Yousaidhecomesoveralmosteverynightandyouseehimontheweekendstoo.”
“That’sjustit.Before,hewasaroundallthetime,butinthepastcoupleweeks,he’sbeenreallybusy.”
“Maybethere’sabunchofbuilderstryingtogetprojectsdonebeforethesnowcomes,”Carinsuggests.“Andsoeveryone’sworkingdoubleshiftsorsomething.”
“Maybe.”Iheaveasigh.“It’snotjustthathe’snotaroundasmuch.He’sdistractedandquiet,moresothanusual.IfeellikehewantstotellmesomethingbutisafraidofhowI’lltakeit.”
“Justcomeoutandtellhimyoulovehim,”Hopeorders,shakingherforkatme.“Actually,I’mshockedyouhaven’tslippedupanddoneitalready.Evenintextsandstuff.”
“It’sbeyondhard,”Iadmit.“TheotherdayhewasreachingforaglassofwaterandhisshirtslippedupandIalmostdroppedtomykneeswithlust.Andwhenhe’swithJamie?Itbecomesnearlyimpossible.Hewassittingonthecouchtheothernight,feedingher.AndIstartedtosayIloveyouandcaughtmyself,butnotbeforeIhadthefirsttwowordsout.IendedupsayingIloveyoursocks.”
“Iloveyoursocks?”Carinexclaims.
“It’sbeyondridiculous.Iknow.”
“Whydon’tyoujusttellhim?”
“BecauseifItellhim,thenhe’llfeelboundtome.He’ssohonorableandsodecent,hewon’tevenlookatanotherwoman.”
“Justcomeoutandaskhimifhe’sseeinganyone.Ifhesaysno,thentellhimyouwanthimalltoyourself,”Carinadvises.“Ifhesaysyes,atleastyouknow.It’sbettertoknowthantodriveyourselfnutswondering.”
“Certaintyisbest,”Hopeagrees.
IgivethematightsmileandchangethesubjectbyaskingCarinmoreaboutthehot,beardedTAshe’scurrentlybanging.Shehappilyobliges,althoughallthesextalkremindsmeofhowlittleofitI’vehadlately.ItwashardtofindapositionthatwascomfortablebeforeIhadthebaby,andnowthatthesix-weekbanhasbeenlifted,I’mnotsureIwantTuckerseeingmybody.He’susedtohot,collegegirlswithzerobodyfatandabsofsteel.I’mmorelikeabsofJell-Oatthispoint.
Ourfoodfinallyarrives.Idigin,underthepretensethatI’mstarving,butmostlyI’mhidingfrommyfriendsbecauseIdon’tagreewiththeiradvice.KnowingTuckerlovessomeoneelsewillbreakme.
I’drathergomywholelifeinlimbothanhavehimtellmethathe’sfalleninlovewithawomanwhoisn’tme.
*
WhenIgethome,NanaisnappingwithJamie,allowingmetogetafewhoursofstudyinginbeforedinner.Ray’sonthesofa,blaringthetelevision,whichmeansIcan’treadinthekitchen.I’mgettingtiredofbeingshutinmycrampedbedroomwiththecrib,mytwinbed,andathousandandfivebabyitems,butIdon’thavemuchofachoice.Stickingapairofearplugsin,ImanagetoreadthroughallofmycrimlawandtortsbeforeIhearthethinwailofmyhungrychild.
“Youhome,Sabrina?”Nanacallsthroughthedoor.
Ihopupandgreether.“Yup.Gothomeacouplehoursago.Youtwoweresleeping.”IreachoutandpluckJamiefromherarms.Mybabydollwhimpersandrootsaround,mouthingmeovermyshirt.“Ibetterfeedher.”
“Youdothat.I’mgoingtoruntothestoreforafewthings.We’realmostoutofmilkandcheese.”
“’Kay.”Istarttoclosethedoor,butNanastopsme.
“Youshouldgetoutofthere,”shesays,peeringovermyshoulderintotheconfinedspace.“You’llgonuts.”
“It’sfine,”Ireply,eventhoughshe’sright.Theroomisfeelingsmallereveryday.
Sheshrugs,herbodylanguagetellingmethatit’smyfuneral.
BeforeIgetthedoorclosed,IhearheryellatRay.“ThatTVistooloud,Ray.It’llhurtthebaby’sears.”
Hemumblessomethingindistinguishable.I’msureit’ssomevariationof“fuckthebaby.”
Threemoreyears.ThreemoreyearsandthenI’lllandthatBigLawjobandgetthehelloutofthisplace.
NanaandRayexchangeafewmoretersewords—hervoiceissharpandhisisangry.Theenergyinthishouseissodamnnegative.
IcuddleJamieclosertome.“We’regoingtogetoutofthisplacesoon.”
Shecries,aplaintive,hungrysound.Iunbuttonmyshirtandpullittotheside,bouncingherinmyarmsasIdo.Shekeepscrying,though.
Amomentlater,Raypoundsonmydoor.“Shutthatfuckingbabyup.Mygameison.”
Iclosemyeyesandprayforpatience.JamieshoutsherannoyanceandIlookdowntodiscoverthatthesiliconnipplepadishinderinghereffortstofeed.Iripitoffandthrowitonthedresser.
Rayknocksagain.“I’mtalkingtoyou,Rina!”
Iwrenchopenthedoor,Jamielatchedontomyboob,andconfronttheasshole.“She’sababy,notamachine.Idon’tturnheronandoffatwill,okay?Andit’snotlikeIenjoyhearinghercry,youasshole.I’mdoingeverythingIcantomakeherhappy.”
“Doesn’tlooklikeyou’regoodatanythingbutbeingasucktoy,”hegrunts.Hishotbeerbreathwashesoverme.
Angerburnsinmygut.Iswingthedoorclosed,butitbouncesbacktowardmeasheslamshishandagainstit.
“Getout,”Iorder.Idon’twantthismananywherenearmydaughter,andIdon’tcareifIhavetokickhimintheballstomakethatclear.
Ray’snotmuchtallerthanmeandisskinnyasarail,buthemanagestokickthedooroutofmyhandandstalkforward.
Ibackup,mylegshittingthemattress.“Getout,”Irepeat.
Myheartstartsbeatingrapidly.Rayhasneverbeenviolent,neverraisedahandtome,butinthismoment,thelookinhiseyesmakeseveryhaironmybodystandonend.IclutchJamieclosertome.ShewhimpersandIforcemyselftoloosenthehold.
“Yourtitsarehuge.”Histonguepeeksoutfrombetweenhislips.
Idrawonesideofmyshirtclosed.ButtheotheronestillhasJamielatchedtoit.
“What’sthatmilktastelike?”
Achillracesdownmyspine.Mymilkissweet,butthefeartasteslikecopperagainstmytongue.“Youneedtoleaverightnow,”Igrowl.
“You’vegottwotitsandonlyonemouthon’em.”Hereachestowardme,slowlyandcreepily.
Iscramblebackward,keepingaprotectiveholdonmydaughter.“Stayawayfromus,Ray.Imeanit.ComeanycloserandIswearI’llripyoureyesout.”
“Whydon’tyougivemeataste?I’vebeenthinkingaboutwhatajuicypieceyoumustbe.AndI’vehadyourmamaandyourgrandma.Whynottheyoungest?It’llbemyRayDonaghyhattrick.”
Ireachbehindmeinsearchofaweapon,buttheneednevermaterializes.Instead,there’saroaratthedoor,andthenasix-foot,three-inchtorpedolaunchesitselfatRayandspinshimaround.
TuckerdrivesafistintoRay’sfacebeforethebastardevenrealizesthere’sanotherpersonintheroomwithus.
Ihuddleinthecorner,drawingablanketupovermychestasiftocoverJamie’seyesfromthesceneinfrontofher.TuckerthrowsRayagainstthewall,liftingmystepfather’sskinnyassupwithonestronghandagainsthisthroat.
“Yousickfuck.You’reluckymykidandwomanareinthisroomrightnoworIwouldfuckingendyou.”
Hisgriptightens,andasmuchasIthinkRaydeservestohavethesnotchokedoutofhim,Idon’twantJamievisitingherdaddyinaMassachusettsstateprisonforthenexttwentyyears.
“YoushouldreallywaituntilafterI’mdonewithlawschooltokillRay,”ItellTucker,weakwithrelief.
HesqueezesRay’sthroatoncemorebeforelettingthecreepdroptothefloor.
“Comeon,”Tuckerbarks,turningtome.Hispupilsaredilatedandhisnostrilsflareashestrugglestogatherhiscomposure.“We’reoutofhere.”
Idon’targue.
*
“Howlonghasthatbeengoingon?”Tuckerdemandsashepullsoutofthedriveway.IturnawayfromJamie’sgurgling,happyfaceandmeethisgrimexpression.
“Raybeinganasshole?Sincethebeginningoftime.HimtryingtofeelmeupwhileIwasfeedingJamie?That’sthefirst.”
AlthoughhiscreepinessmusthavealwaysbeeninthebackofmymindorelseIwouldn’thavefeltcompelledtohideinmybedroomallthetime.
“Youcan’tstaythere,”Tuckersaysflatly.
Idragashakyhandovermyface.“Idon’thaveanotheroptionatthispoint.Babiesareexpensiveandmybankaccountisbleedingout.Hopegavemethisdiapercakeandithadliketwohundredandfiftydiapers—IlaughedwhenIcountedthem.Well,Iusedthatupinthefirstthreeweeks.Andyou’relivingwithBrody,whopretendshisbedroomisaCirquedeSoleiltryout,completewiththeaccompanyingsoundtrack.”
“Iknow.”Tuckerbiteshislip.“Iwasn’treadytodothisbecauseIwantedtowaitfortherighttime,butI’mgoingtohaveto.”
Ignawnervouslyontheinsideofmycheek.“Therighttimeforwhat?”
Ishebreakingupwithme?
OhGod.
IfighttheurgetovomitallovertheinsideofTucker’scleantruck.
“Forthis.”Hestopsthepickupinfrontofacornerbar.It’sclassicBostonwithitsredbrickexterior,greenawningandapostage-stampsizedpatiotowardtherear.
“Ican’tdrinkwhileI’mbreastfeeding,”Iremindhim.
“Yeah,holdthatthought,”hesays,andthenslidesoutofthetruck.
Ashe’spullingJamieoutofhercarrier,Iclimbdownandmeethimonthesidewalk.“Wecan’tbringababyintothebar.”
“We’renot.”Heplaceshishandonmylowerbackandsteersmetowardthesideofthesmallbuilding.There’sasetofstairsleadinguptothesecondfloor.“Goon,”hesayswhenIhesitate.
“Didyourentanapartment?”Itrytokeeptheworryoutofmyvoice.It’shismoneyandheshoulddowhathewantswithit,butrentingaplacebyhimselfbecauseI’mhavingproblemsathomeseemslikeawasteofhismoney.“BecauseRay’salltalkandnoaction.”
“Right.Likehimattackingyouinyourbedroomwasallabunchofwords.”
“Hewasdrunk.”Jeez.WhyamIevenmakingexcusesforthatpsycho?
Tuckergivesmeanothershove.“AreyougoingtodragyourassupstairsordoIhavetocarrythebothofyou?”
“I’mgoing.”Icave.ThedoorknobturnsundermyhandandInoticeafreshlyinstalledelectronickeypad.
“Itworksvianear-fieldcommunications,”Tuckerinformsme.
“English,please.”
“Itunlockswhenapaireddeviceisclosetoit.Thatwayifyouhaveyourhandsfull,youcanstillgetin.”
“Cool,”Isayfaintly.Andthat’sonlythefirstofmanysurprises.
Upstairs,Ifindahugetwo-bedroomapartment.Thekitchenissmallandtheappliancesareold,buttherearewindowseverywhere.Thelivingroomisfilledwithdustandexposedbrick.
“I’vebeentearingdownthedrywall.”Tuckergesturesatthewalls.“Ihaven’ttouchedthebedroombecauseIfiguredyou’dwantasay,butthestuffinherewasrotting.Comeon.”
Thistimehetakesthelead.Downthehallaretwobedrooms.Hepushesopenthefirstone,dropsthecarrierinsidethedoor,andthenkneelsdowntopullsleepyJamieout.Thelittlepillalwaysfallsasleepinthecar.
Icreeptowardthedoorasifthere’saserialkillerbehindit.ButtheonlythingIfindisabeautifullydecoratednursery.
“Ohmygosh,”Ibreathe.
It’spaintedapalepink.Whitecurtainshangoverthebigwindows.Anoff-whitecribsitsagainstonewall,andadresserwithachangingtableispushedupagainstanother.Betweenthemisanupholsteredglider,onethatI’dsighedoverandpostedonmyInstagramaccount.
IshootanastonishedlookatTucker,buthe’stoobusylovingupJamie.God,he’stoogorgeousforwords.Hisbicepsisbiggerthanherhead,buthe’sasgentleasalambwithher.
ThatwholepictureisTucker,though.Strong,steady,withexactlytherighttouchtomakehisladiesmelt.IknowIdo.
IwrenchmygazeawayfromhisbentheadsoIdon’tlaunchmyselfathispoorunsuspectingframe.Tomyright,attheendoftheroom,adoorsitsslightlyajar.Iheadovertoinvestigateandfindanensuitebathroom.It’stoomuch.
“What’sgoingon?Didyouwinthelottery?”
Hegivesmeacrookedsmile.“Nope.Iboughtabar.Thiscamewithit.”
“This?”Iwavemyhandaroundtheroom.“Thepinkroom,thecrib,theelectronickeypadentry!”
“Okay,thebuildingcamewithanapartment.I’mnotdonewiththerenosuphere.That’sgoingtotakeawhile.IwashopingtosurpriseyouaroundNovemberwhenthebaropened.”
Feelingweak,Ileanagainstthewall.“Idon’tknowwhattosay.”
Hestridesacrosstheroomandtucksahandundermychin.“Saythatthisishome.Foryou,Jamie,andme.”
Iclosemyeyessohecan’tseetheemotioninthem—therelief,thegratitude,theoverwhelmingloveIhaveforhim.Idon’tdeservehim.Notonebit,butforsomereasonhewantsmeinhislife.
Iturnmyfaceintohispalmandpressmylipsagainstthewarmskin.“Ilovethisplace.It’samazing.You’reamazing.”AndbecauseIcan’thelpmyself,Iriseuponmytiptoesandthrowmyarmsaroundhisneck.“Thankyou.”
Onemusculararmclutchesmeclosewhiletheotherholdsourbabyclose.“Thisisgoingtowork,”hemurmurs.“You’llsee.”
Ihopeso.God,Ihopeso.37
Tucker
November
“Holyshit!Thisplaceissick.”
IflushwithprideatLogan’sexclamation.Weeksofhardworkhaveledtothismoment,butmybackbreakingeffortsaremadeallthemoreworthwhileasIwitnessmyfriends’reactions.
AndI’msofuckingtouchedthateveryoneshoweduptobehereformetonight.DeanandAllierodeinonthetrainfromNewYork,andCoachJensenactuallycanceledaneveningpracticesothatallmyformerBriarteammatescouldattendmybigopening.
Butthemostimportantguestsaremytwogirls.Jamie’sstrappedtomychestinaBabyBjorn,wearingacustom-madepinkonesiethatreads“Tucker’sBar”ingoldglitter.
Sabrinaisbesideme,dressedalittlelessfancyinfadedjeansandatightgreensweater.HerfulltitsarenearlypouringoutofthedeepV-neckline,andeverytimeIglanceherwaymydickturnstogranite.Ialmostwishshewasstillmoaningaboutthebabyweightshe’scarryingandrefusingtoletmetouchher,becauseeventhoughshedoesn’thaveherpre-babybodyback,I’mhornytwenty-four/seven.
“Hittingthehead,”Logansays.“BRB.”
Ashedisappearsintothecrowd,Garrettsweepshisgazeoverthepackedbar.“Ican’tbelievehowwelltherenovationsturnedout,”hemarvels.
Ilookaround,tryingtoseetheroomthroughhiseyes.AfterI’dcompletelyrestoredthewoodpanelingandexposedbeams,Iwentonahuntforsportsmemorabiliatohangonthegleamingwalls.Thisisn’ttechnicallyasportsbar,buthey,I’mahockeyplayer.Ican’tnothaveframedphotosofathletesinmybar.
Andithelpstohavefriendsinhighplaces.Garrettgotmesignedjerseysfromseveralofhisnewteammates—manyofwhomareheretonight.Oneofthechicksbythepooltablewastednotimeblastingitonsocialmedia,andwithinanhourofopeningmydoors,Ihadpeoplelininguptogetin,hopingtolandanautographorchatuptheprofessionalhockeyplayers.
Thegroupies,however,havebeensurprisinglyunobtrusive,lettingGarrett’steammatesdrinkinpeacewithoutharassingthemtoomuch.Iappreciatethat,becausethevibeI’mgoingforis“neighborhoodbar.”Aplacewherepeoplecancomeafterwork(orhockeypractice)andjustrelax.Somewherethat’snottooloudandnottoorowdy.
Sofar,it’sexactlywhatIwantedittobe.
“Thanksforallyourhelp,”ItellGarrett,whoshrugsoffmygratitude.Hedeservesit,though.Hegaveupwaytoomanydaysofftocomehereandhelpmeripupflooringandgutthebathrooms.
“Youtoo,”IsaytoFitzy,whodrovetoBostoneveryweekendafterIboughtthebar,crashingonthefloorofJamie’snurseryandwakingupatungodlyhourstohelpmeout.
IhiredpeopletodothejobsthatmyfriendsandIcouldn’tdoourselves.Staffedtheplacetoo,sinceIhavenointerestintendingbarunlessIhaveto;managementismoremything.SamiraandZeke,thetwobartendersworkingtonight,areawesome.Theyalreadybickerlikeanoldmarriedcoupleandthisisonlytheirfirstnightworkinghere.
“Itwasfun,”FitzygruntsbeforetakingasipofhisCoors.
“Dude,”Deansays,cominguptoslapFitzontheshoulder.“Thatwasahellofagamelastweekend.YouguyscrushedYale.”
Fitzyfrowns.“YousawitinNewYork?Ididn’trealizeitwastelevised.”
“Naah,someonewaslive-tweetingit.Iwastrackinghisposts.”
SowasI,actually.I’dwantedtodriveouttoBriartowatchitlive,butJamiehadbeenfussythenightbefore,andSabrinaandIwerewiped.Theteam’skickingassthisseason,though.Lastyear’sshittyrecordisallbutforgottennowthatBriarisonafive-gamewinningstreak.
“Hunterscoredatotalbeautyinthethird,”Hollissaysfromhisstool.“Ialmostcameinmypants.”
“Don’tbecrudeinfrontofthebaby,”Isayimmediately.
“Bro,youbroughtababytoabar.Gothrowglassstonesinyourownhouse.”Wheneveryonesnickers,Hollisisvisiblyconfused.“What?”
“That’snotthephrase,”Hannahsayshelpfully.
“Sureitis.”
“It’sreallynot.”
Holliswavesahand.“Youknownothing,JonSnow.”
ShesighsandwandersofftotheboothwhereAllie,Hope,CarinandGracearesitting.“Youcoming?”sheasksSabrinaoverhershoulder.
“Yup.”Mywomanglancesatme.“Wantmetotakeher?”
“Noway,”Deansaysinstantly.“Youcan’ttakeherawayfromus!She’sbarelyspentanytimewithheruncles!”HeplucksJamieoutoftheBabyBjornandsnugglesherupagainsthischest.“GiveyourUncleDeanakiss,princess.”
SabrinarollshereyesasDeanpressesourdaughter’smouthtohischeekandproceedstomakekissingnoisesasifshe’sactuallysmackinghimagoodone.
“I’llbeovertherewiththenormalpeople,”Sabrinasaysdryly,thenheadsforthegirls’booth.
MyfriendspassJamiearoundamongstthemselvesuntileventuallysheendsupinFitzy’sarms.Sincehe’swearingaT-shirt,histattoosarefullyvisible,andforsomereasontheyfascinatethebaby.Everytimeheholdsher,shestareswide-eyedatthetatsandformsanOwithherredrosebudmouth.
“Jesus,that’sonecutekid,”Garrettsays,shakinghishead.
LoganreturnsfromthebathroomtohearGarrett’sremark.“Right?Iswear,Iwassofuckingworriedhe’dendupwithanuglybabyandthenI’dhavetofakeit.DaybeforeImether,Iwaspracticing‘Awwwwww!She’ssocute!’foranhourinthemirror.”
Ifliphimoff.
“It’strue—askGracie.Andrelax,man.Ididn’thavetolie,didI?She’sfuckingprecious.”
“Tuck’sgotmagicsperm,”Deanagrees.
Hollissnorts.“No,Tuck’sgotasmokin’hotbabymama.Genes,bro.”
“Speakingofthebabymama…”Deancocksabrowatme.
Ifrown.“Whatabouther?”
“Youtwoofficiallytogetherorwhat?”
“Welivetogether,”isallIcanthinktosay.
“Okay.Butthatdoesn’tanswermyquestion.”
Mygazestraysacrosstheroom.SabrinaislaughinghystericallyatsomethingHopejustsaid.Withherbottomlessdarkeyesandflawlessface,she’shands-downthehottestwomaninthisbar.Ifuckingacheforher.Andyeah,Iloveher.Somuchithurts.
ButdamnedifI’mgoingtosayitagainaftershetotallybrusheditoffthenightshedeliveredJamie.
“We’retogether,”Ifinallysay.“Isitserious?”Ishrug.“Iwantittobe.ButI’mfollowingherlead.”
Deanwearsatroubledexpression,buthedoesn’tsayanythingmoreonthesubject.Instead,hechangesitcompletely,turningtogrinatFitzy.“Hey,Ikeepforgettingtotextyou,butIshouldprobablygiveyouaheadsupaboutsomething.”
“Aheadsupaboutwhat?”
“RememberSummer?”
“Whataboutit?”
Deanlaughs.“Notit.Her.MysisterSummer.”
IhideagrinwhenIseeFitzynarrowhiseyes.It’snosecretthatSummerDiLaurentis’svisitlastwinterhadfreakedhimout.Iwasn’ttheretowitnessit,butapparentlyDean’sincrediblyforwardsisterhadallbutthrownherselfatthebigguy.
“Whatabouther?”
“She’stransferringtoBriarnextsemester.”
Fitzy’sfaceturnsaswhiteasJamie’sspit-up.WhichispoolingonthesleeveofhisT-shirt.Hehasn’tnoticedityet,andI’mhopingsomeoneelsepointsitoutsoIdon’thaveto.
“Why?”Fitzyisclearlyspeakingthroughclenchedteeth.
Deansighs.“SheofficiallygotkickedoutofBrown.Orrather,politelyaskedtoleave,asshelikestophraseit.Butyeah,mydadisfriendswiththeheadofadmissionsatBriar,sohecalledinafavor.SummerwillbetherestartingJanuary.”
“DoesshestillwanttoseeFitzy’sdick?”Hollispipesup.
Theownerofsaiddickpassesmybabybacktome,thenpicksuphisbeerbottleandchugstheentirething.
Mygrinsurfaces.Poorguy.TheladiesgowildforColinFitzgerald,butinalltheyearsI’veknownhim,he’sbeenincrediblyselectiveaboutwhohegoesoutwith.Ithinkdeepdownhe’sasold-fashionedasIam.
“Tuck!”Zekecallsfrombehindthecounter.“Gotaquickquestionforyouaboutthisdrinkmenu!”
IslideJamiebackintotheBjornandgesturetomyfriendsthatI’llbeaminute.ThenIdartofftotakecareofbusiness.Mybusiness.
*
“Hey,”Sabrinasayshourslater,smilingatmeasIstaggerintoourbedroom.
She’slyinginthemiddleofthebedwithatextbookinherlap,asightthatdoesn’tsurpriseme.Sabrinatakesherstudyinganywayshecangetit,andthebesttimesforhertodoitarewhenJamie’sasleep.Mostnights,she’llhavehernoseburiedinabooklongafterI’vefallenasleep.
Thegoodthingis,nowthatthebarrenovationsaredoneandI’mofficiallyopenforbusiness,I’llbeabletotakecareofJamieduringthedaywhileSabrinaisinclass,andthenwe’llswitchoff—she’llbeonbabydutywhileIgodownstairstowork.Wedon’thavetheeasiestschedules,butwe’redoingourbest.Andshit’sbeenaloteasiersinceshemovedinwithme.
Well,easierandharder.I’mstillnotsurewherewestand.Wehaven’thadsexinthreemonthsdespitesleepinginthesamebed.OneofusisusuallypacingthenurserywithJamiewhiletheothercatchesuponmuch-neededsleep.Shehasn’ttoldmeshelikesme,letalonelovesme.SometimesIthinkshedoes,butothertimesitfeelslikewe’rejusttwopeoplewhohappentoberaisingachildtogether.
ButtheonethingIknowaboutSabrina—pushinghergetsyoutheoppositeresultofwhatyou’rehopingfor.Igetit,though.She’sbeenonherownallherlife.Herdadbailedbeforeshewasevenborn.Hermomabandonedher.Hergrandmother,asmuchassheclaimstoloveher,alwaysactslikeshedidSabrinasomehugefavorbyraisingher.
SabrinaJamesisn’tusedtopeoplelovingher.SometimesIwonderifsheevenknowshowtolovesomeoneback,butthenIseeherwithourdaughter,thewayherfacesoftenswithloveandadorationeverytimeshelooksatJamie,andIknowshe’scapableoffeelingdeeply.
Ijustwishshe’dfeeldeeplyaboutme
“Whydoyoulooksoserious?”sheteases,settingasidehertextbook.“Youkilledittonight.Youshouldbegrinningfromeartoear.”
Iundomyjeansandletthemdroptothefloor.“I’mgrinningontheinside.”Itacklemyplaidbutton-downnext.“I’mtooexhaustedtomovemyfacialmuscles.”
“Really?That’sadamnshame,becauseI’mnottiredatall.”
Themischievousnoteinhervoicemakesmybodyroartolife.Ohfuck.Pleasepleasepleasetellmeshe’ssayingwhatIthinksheis.
“Jamie’sfastasleepintheotherroom,”sheadds,wavingthebabymonitoraroundenticingly.“Latelyshecangoforawholetwohoursbeforeshestartsscreamingherlungsout…”
Twohours.
Mydickspringsupandtriestotunnelitswayoutofmyboxerbriefs.
Sabrinadoesn’tmissmybody’sresponse.Lickingherlips,shereachesforthehemofhersweaterandtugsitupandoverherhead.
“Darlin’,”Istarthoarsely.
“Hmmm?”
“Ifthisissomesickjokeandyou’renotplanningonfuckingmerightnow,Ineedyoutotellme.Mycockwon’tbeabletohandlethedisappointment.”
Sheburstsoutlaughing,thenclapsahandoverhermouthtostiflethesound.Fortunately,thebabymonitorstaysquiet.
“Notajoke,”sheassuresme.Thensheunclaspsherbra,andholyhell,hertitsareglorious.“I’vewantedtojumpyouallnight.”
Istalktowardherlikeapredator.“Yeah?”
“Mmm-hmmm.I’vebeenthinkingaboutthisallday.Andtonight,thethinkingturnedintoobsessing.Youhavenoideahowhotyouarewhenyouorderyourstaffaround.”She’salreadywigglingoutofheryogapantsandbikiniunderwear.
MybreathstallswhenIlayeyesonherpussy.It’scompletelybare.Ohyeah,thisisn’taspurofthemomentthing.Shetotallypreparedforthis.
I’montopofherbeforeshecanblink,mymouthcrushingdownonhersinakissthatleavesusbothbreathless.ButasmuchasIlovehermouth,that’snotwhatIwanttobekissingrightnow.
Threemonths.It’sbeenthreegoddamntorturousmonthssinceI’vehadmytongueinparadise.Itearmymouthawayandslidedownthebeduntilmyfaceislevelwithherpussy.Herverywet,verygorgeouspussy.
“Holdyourselfopen,babe.Ihaven’teateninaverylongtimeandI’mhungryasfuck.”
Sabrina’shandscomedownandspreadherlipsapart.Idiveinanddragmytongueoncefromfronttoback,coatingmytastebudswithher.Myalreadyachingdickthrobswithneed.God,I’vemissedthis.I’vemissedher.
“Tucker,please,”shebegs.
Mycockissoharditmightbreakinhalf,butIdon’tcarebecausemyfaceisburiedbetweenmywoman’slegs.Herheelsdigintomyshoulders,urgingmeon.Aboveme,shethrashes,makingthesexiestnoisesever.
Comeon,baby.Comeforme.
“Yes,ah,yes.Rightthere.”Shecriesoutandthenclapsahandoverhermouthagain.
Webothfreeze,waitingforapeepfromnextdoor.Whennothinghappens,Ibreatheasighofrelief,reachforapillowandthrowittoher.
Igrindevilishly.“Asmuchasyoursexysoundsdrivemenuts,it’sprobablybestyouscreamintothepillow.”
Shedropsherheadback,throwsthepillowoverherfaceandgivesmethethumbs-up.Laughing,Ireapplymyselftotheawesometaskathand,butassoonasmymouthisbackon,mychucklesquicklydieout.
Eachtasteofhermakesmemoreravenous.Herthighstightenundermypalmsandherpussyvibratesagainstmytongue,signalingthatshe’sclose.Isuckharder.Ilickfaster.Ibiteandkissandtongueheruntilshescreamsintoherpillowandcomesallovermyface.
It’sfuckingglorious.
Sittingup,Iswipeahandovermymouth.“Condom?”Iask.
Sheshovesthepillowaside.“I’monthepill.Gottheprescriptionatthelastcheckup.”
Igripmycockandrunthetipalongherwetcore.Herbreathhisseswhenthebroadheadbreachesherentrance.It’sbeenalongtimesinceI’vebeeninsideher,anddespitethefactthatshepushedabowlingballoutofhervagina,she’sstilltightasfuck.Thefemalebodyisathingofmagic.
AsIslideinside,Ican’tstopmyowngroanfromescaping.Itfeelssodamngood.WhenI’mfullyseated,Istop.Herinnermusclespulsearoundme.
“Fuck,IwishIrubbedoneoutbeforethebaropened,”Igrindout.“I’mgoingtoshootmywadinundertenseconds.”
“Pleasedon’t.Thisfeelssogood.”Hertoneisslightlysurprised.
“Youthoughtitwouldsuck?”IpullherlegsuparoundmyshoulderssoIcandrillindeeper.
“Ihadababy.”
“Yourbodyisperfect.”Ikissaprettyankle.“AnymoreperfectandI’dbedead.You’restilltightashell,wetasheaven.”
Shegiggles.“Heaveniswet?”
Irotatemyhipsandwebothmoan.“MyheaveniswetandhotandbelongstothisbabecalledSabrina.”
Smiling,sheclenchesaroundmydick.
“Stopit.”Igasp.“Youwanttocomeagain,ordoyouwantmetoembarrassmyself?”
Sherespondsbysqueezingmeeventighter.Iclampmyeyesshutandsearchforanounceofcontrol.Oncetheurgetocomeinsideofherpasses,Istartmovingataslowandsteadypace.
HergazeclingstomineandItelegrapheverythingIfeel,everythingIcan’tsay,everythingthat’sinmyheartforher.
You’retheonlyoneforme.
Mysunrisesandsetsonyoursmile.
Myheartbeatsbecauseyoursdoes.
Herhipscantupward,welcomingeverythrust.
“Holdontome,babe.”SweatbeadsonmyforeheadasIdigakneeintothemattresstodriveintoherharder,deeper.
Shepullsmedownuntilhertitsrubagainstmychestwitheveryplungeforward.“I’mclose,”shewhispers.“Kissme.IwantyourtongueinmymouthwhenIcome.”
Fuckinghell.
Mymouthcrashesontohers.Ourtonguesgreedilytangletogether.ThisisallI’mevergoingtowant.Herbodybeneathmine.Hertasteonmylips.Herscentinmylungs.
Shecriesagainstmymouthasshecomes.Iswallowhercryofecstasyandthenallowmyownorgasmtoripthroughme,slammingintohersohardthatI’mprobablygoingtoleavebruises.Afterthepleasurefinallysubsides,Icollapsenexttoher,barelymanagingtothrowmybodytothesidesoIdon’tcrushher.
“GivemeabouttenminutesandI’llbegoodtogoagain,”Imumbleintothemattress.
Asofthandstrokesitswaydownmyspineandcupsmyass,sendingshiversthroughoutmyframe.Mydicktwitcheswithinterest.
“Makethatfive.”
Shelaughs.
Iflopontomybackandtuckanarmunderhershoulderstopullheragainstme.“You’vekilledme,Sabrina.I’mdead.”
Sherunsafingeralongmyinnerthigh.Predictably,mydickhardens.“Ifthisisyoudead,I’malittleafraidofhowlongournextroundisgoingtolast.”
“Youmightwanttogetasandwich.I’mgonnakeepyouinbedforalongtime.”
Herlegstwinethroughmineasifshecan’thandleevenaninchofherbeingseparated.Whichistotallyfinewithme.
“Everythingseemstobeworking,”shemurmurs,herlipsmovingagainstthesideofmychest.Shesoundssurprisedagain.
“Whywouldn’tit?Webothwantthistowork,don’twe?”
IholdmybreathasIwaitforheranswer.It’sashardasI’vepushedherlatelyandIhalfexpecthertoleapupandrunforthedoor.
Instead,sheinhalesdeeply.“Yeah,wedo.”
“DoesthatmeanIcanstoplookingforadifferentwoman?”
“Itmeansyouhavetostop,”shedeclares.Herdelicatefingersdigpossessivelyintomyskin,andIgruntwithpleasure.
“Good.I’vealreadytoldafewwomenaroundherethatI’mmarried.”
“Why?”
“Jamie’sachickmagnet.I’veneverhadsomanywomenhitonme.”
Andthen,asifI’dsummonedher,myphonechirpstoannouncethatJamie’scryingintheotherroom.
“What’sthat?”Sabrinasitsup,wipingthehairoutofherface.
“Fitzysetitup.Therearemonitorsinthecribthatsendanalerttomyphonetoletusknowifshestopsmovingorifshe’scrying.I’llinstalltheapponyourphonelater.”Iswingoutofbed.“Stayhere,”Itellherasshescramblestoherknees.“I’llbringJamiein.”
WhenIreachthedoor,Ilookback.Sabrinahaspositionedherselfagainstthepaddedheadboard,arrangingthepillowsaroundhersidesasshegetsreadytofeedourbaby.Sheliftsherheadandsmiles,lookinglikeafuckingangel.
Thisisn’thowIplannedmylifetobe,atleastnotthissoon,butIwouldn’tgiveitupforallthegoldintheworld.
Heartinmythroat,andfeelinghappierthananymanhastherighttofeel,Igogetourlittlegirl.38
Sabrina
December
Ilimpintotheapartmentaftermystudygroup,anhourlateandfeelingguiltyaboutit.IcalloutanapologytoTuckerasIswinginside,myarmsfullofbooksandasmallbagofgroceries,whichcontainsonlyhalftheitemsIwassupposedtobringhomeanhourago.“I’msososorry.Ihadmyphoneturnedoffand—”
TherestofmyexcusediesinmythroatwhenIfindTucker’smotherinmykitchen.
Sheturnsadeathglareinmydirectionandspeaksupfromherspotbehindthecounter.“Johnwenttopickupsomethingsfromthestore.Hetriedtotextyoutoseeifyou’dpickuptheitemsonyourwayhome,butyouneveranswered.”
Herwordsarecolderthanthewinterwindsoffthebay.Ishiverundermydowncoat.
“Ithoughtyouweren’tgettinginuntilFriday,”Istammer.
“TheweddingIwassupposedtostylewaspostponed,soIdecidedtotakeadvantageandcomeearly.ThatwayIgettospendextratimewithmygranddaughter.”
“Oh.Cool.That’s…cool.”
I’veturnedintoanidiot.Ican’thelpit,though.Tucker’smotherissodamnintimidating.Ihaven’tseenhersincethatdisastrousvisitoverthesummer,andeventhoughTuckertextsherdailyandarrangesforvideochatsbetweenherandJamie,shehasn’tonceaskedtospeaktome.
“Whywereyoulate?”It’sanaccusationandwebothknowit.
Igulp.“Iwasinastudygroup.Finalsarecomingup.”
Shenodstowardthelivingroom.“Isupposethat’swhytheplaceisn’tascleanasyou’dlike.”
Ifollowhergazewithdeepeningdismay.Thisweekhadgottenawayfromme,andtheapartmentshowseverybitofmydistraction.Thekitchencupboardsareembarrassinglybare.Dishes—cleanatleast—arestackedonthecounter.IwasgoingtoputthemawaytonightafterJamiewasfed.Inthelivingroom,textbooksandoutlinesandsupplementalstudyguidestakeupeveryavailablesurface.Jamie’sbathroom—theoneMrs.Tuckerwillbeusing—lookslikeahurricane.EverythingisterriblebecauseIthoughtIhadtwomoredaystofixit.
WhichiswhatIsaytoher.“Iplannedontidyingupbeforeyouarrived.”
Herarchedeyebrowconveysthatmyexcuseisembarrassing.“You’retryingyourhardest,aren’tyou?”
Thedaggerstrikesdeep.Myhardestisn’tgoodenoughinMrs.Tucker’seyes
Breathtightinmychest,Islowlytoeoffmybootsandmaketheshorttrekacrosstheopen-conceptroomtowardthekitchen,draggingmystocking-coveredfeetwitheachstep.Theapartmentisbiggerthanmychildhoodhome,andonmostdaysI’mgiddyoverthespace,butMrs.Tuckerhasawayofvacuumingupalltheairintheroom.
Silently,Iputawaythemilk,eggs,andbutter.Theconveniencestorewasover-priced,butitwasclosebyandIwasfeelingalittledesperate.Now?I’mfeelingsmallandincompetent.
“IsJamiewithTucker?”Iask.Theapartment’sasquietasastudycarrelatHarvard.
“She’sinhercribsleeping,”Mrs.Tuckersaystersely,notglancingupfromtheonionsshe’schopping.
Imakeanattempttosmile.“Didyouenjoyseeingherinpersonforthefirsttime?”
“Whatkindofquestionisthat?OfcourseIdid.She’smyonlygrandchild.”
Myhalf-heartedsmilefades.Igulpagain.OhGod,thisvisitisgoingtobebrutal.
“I’mgoingtoruninandcheckonher.”Ishoveacartonofjuiceinthefridgebeforefleeingthekitchen.
Inthenursery,theunmadebedTuckerandFitzyhadhauledupherelastweekendtauntsme.Thesheetsstackedononeendonlyservetohighlightmyineptnessasamotherandahousekeeper.IfthosearetraitsthatMrs.Tuckervaluesinadaughter-in-law,thenI’mfailingmiserably.
Jamie’ssleepingblissfullyinhercrib,wrappeduptightinherblanket.Iresisttheurgetopickherup,despiteknowingthatholdinghersweet,nonjudgmentalbodywillmakemefeelsomuchbetter.ButsheneedstosleepandIhaveshittogetdone.
Asquietlyaspossible,ImakethebedandthencreepouttojoinMrs.Tuckerinthekitchen.
“CanIgetyousomethingtodrink?”Ioffer.Shehastheonionsinapan,andtheapartmentisfillingwiththefragrantsmellofsweetherbsandtangygarlic.
“No.I’mfine.”
“CanIhelpyoumakeyour…”Iwavemyhandtowardthestove.
“Chili?”shefillsin.“No.”
Okaythen.Ilickmylipsandconsidermyoptions.MyfirstpreferenceistohideinthebedroomuntilTuckercomeshome,butasmygazefallsonthemoundofdishes,Idecidethattidyingupshouldcomefirst.EvenifIhavetomakeconversationwithsomeonewhoclearlythinksI’maboutaslowasaslug.
“HasTuckershownyouthebaryet?”Iask,stackingthebowlsfirst.“He’sdoneagreatjobandit’salreadymakingdecentmoney.”Tucker’sBarhasbeenfullsinceitopeneditsdoors.
“It’searlyyet.Mostbarsfailafteracoupleofyears.It’snotwhatIwould’vewantedforhimtospendhisfather’sinsurancemoneyon.”Herlipspinch.“Iwould’vetoldhimthatifhe’daskedme.”
Goodthinghehadn’t.Tuckerisclearlyinlovewithhisbar.He’salreadytalkingaboutbuyinganotheronesincehisestimatedcashflowfromyearonewouldallowhimenoughprofittoinvestinanotherbusiness.He’sabusinessman,notabartender,asanyonewholistenstohimforfiveminutescanattestto.Hetalksaboutleveragingrisk,returnsoninvestments,profitmargins,andhiddenopportunities.
“Ithinkit’sgoingtobeabigsuccess,”Ideclareconfidently.
“Youwouldthinkthat.”Shehuffs.“Tuckercould’veboughttherealtybusinessbackhome.Heshouldbeinanoffice,notworkinginabar.”
Shesaysbarlikesomeoneelsemightsaywhorehouse.
“Andnowhe’slivingoverit.”Sheheavesanotherhuge,disappointedsigh.“Thisisn’twhathisdaddywould’vewanted.”
Idon’tknowhowtorespond,soIturntheconversationtoJamiebecausesurelyshecouldn’tbecriticalofJamie.
“WasJamieawakewhenyougothome?She’ssosmart.We’vebeenreadingtohereveryday.Ifoundanarticlethatsaysifyoureadtoyourinfantatleasttwohoursaday,she’llbeanadvancedreader.”
Jeez.I’mbeginningtosoundlikeNana,spoutingoffpseudo-factsthatarepresentedinclickbaitarticlesasifthey’regospel.
Tucker’smotherignoresmyremarks.“Tucksaysyou’rebreastfeedingandthatshe’sonlyinthefifthpercentileforweight.Thatsoundsdangerouslyunderweight.Inmyday,weallusedformula.Itfilledthosetummiesupandhelpedthemgrow.”
Iresignmyselftothefactthatthere’snotathingassociatedwithmethatMrs.Tuckerwon’tfindfaultwith.
Grabbingforthethreadsofmyfrayingpatience,Isay,“Mostdoctorsreallypushforbreastfeedingthesedays.Themother’smilkiscalibratedtomatchtheinfant’sneeds,andtherearestudies—”
“Therearestudiesthatproveanything,”shesaysdisdainfully.Sheflickstheburnertolowandmovestowardthesink,whereshebeginstowashherhandsvigorously.“Iheardtherewasastudythatsaidkidswhoarearoundalcoholtendtogrowuptohavealotofproblems.Ihopethatisn’tthecasewithJamie.”
Iplaceonefootovertheotherandstompdown,hopingthepainwillserveasadistractionsincegrindingmymolarsisn’tdoingthetrick.IremindmyselfthatMrs.Tuckerloveshersonandthatallhercriticism,someofitfounded,comesfromaplaceoflove.Notforme,butforherson.Ishouldrespectthat.
“Wearen’tgoingtolivehereforever,”Isaywithfalsecheerfulness.
Ifinishupwiththedishesandthenswingintothelivingroom.Maybethedistancewillkeepmefromsayingsomethingstupidoutofanger.ThatwouldonlycausemoredamagetothealreadydifficultrelationshipIhavewithTucker’smom
IfI’mgoingtostaywithTucker,Ineedtomakethisthingwithherwork.
“Lawschoolisgoingwell.Igotinwithagreatstudygroup.They’resuperimportantbecauseweallhelpeachotherseethebiggerpicture.WhenIfirststarted,IthoughtIwasn’tgoingtomakeanyfriends,butitwasearlydayjittersforallofus.”I’mramblingasItidyupmycoursework.“There’sthisoneguyinmygroup—Simon—who’sagenius.Hehasaphotographicmemoryplusthiskeenabilitytoreallynarrowinontheimportantissues.Igetboggeddowninthedetailstoomuch.”
“Simon?Youstudywithothermen?”
Ijerkuprightathersuspicioustone.
“Yes,therearemeninmyclass,”Ianswercarefully.
“DoesJohnknowaboutthis?”Shecrossesherarmsoverherchest,lookingatmeasifI’djustconfessedtoboninganotherstudentinfrontofherson.
“Yes.He’smetSimon.We’vestudiedhere.”Well,actuallyatthebar.Mystudygrouplovestocomehere.
Sheshakesherhead,thered-goldstrandshighlightedbythekitchenlightbehindher.“Thisis…”Anotherheadshake.“ExactlywhatIexpected,”shefinishes.
Afrownpuckersmymouth.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Imeanthatyoutakeadvantageofmysonandhavebeendoingitsincethedayyoutwomet.”
Isuckinabreath.“W-what?”
“Howsoonafteryoulearnedabouthisinheritancedidyoudecidetotraphim,Sabrina?”Herexpressioniscolderthanice.“It’sprettyconvenienthowhepaysforeverythingwhileyougooffstudyingwithanotherman.”
Are.You.Fucking.Kidding.Me.
Istraightenfully,indignationinjectingintomybloodstream.
It’sonethingforhertocriticizemyhousekeeping.Isuckatit.
Icanhandleherobjectiontothebreastfeeding.I’mconcernedaboutJamie’sweighttoo,eventhoughthedoctorassuresmeit’sperfectlynormalforbreastfedbabiestobeunderweight.
Idon’tcareifshederidesmyparenting,housekeepingormotheringskillsfromonesideofBostontotheother.
ButIwon’t—Ifuckingwon’t—standforherwhisperingawfulandunfoundedsuspicionsinTucker’sear.
Icansurviveonmyown.Idon’tneedTucker—Iwanthim.IwanthimsomuchthatI’dgiveeverythinguptohavehimandJamie.
WithasmuchdignityasIhave,IfaceMrs.Tucker.
“Ihavesomuchrespectforyou.I’veonlybeendoingthismotheringsh—stuffforfourmonthsandI’vescrewedupprobablyathousandtimes.It’shard,andIhaveTucker,youramazingson,helpingmeeveryinchoftheway.Ican’timaginehowyoudiditonyourown.ButI’mnotgoingtoletyouinsulteverythingIdointhisplace.Thisismyhome.Yes,I’mnotperfect,butI’mtrying.IloveJamieandIloveTuckerandif,atanytime,Harvardorworkoranythingthreatenstheirhappinessinanyway,Iwouldgiveitallupinaminute.”
Herbrowneyeswiden.
ButI’mnotdone.“HeandJamiearethemostimportantthingsinmylife,”Isayfiercely.“AndeverythingI’mdoingrightnowistomakesurethatIkeeptheminmylife,tomakesureIcancontributetoourfamilyandgiveJamieabetterchildhoodthantheoneIhadtodealwith,evenifitmeansstudyingwithaman.Who,bytheway,ishappilymarriedandhastwokidsofhisown.”
There’sarustlingnoisebehindMrs.Tucker,andtheblotbehindherheadslowlycomesintofocus.Ittakesasecondformetorealizeit’sTucker.He’sstandingatthefrontdoor.
Heleansanarmonthedoorframe,asmileslantingacrosshisface.
“Youloveme,huh?”39
Tucker
Sabrinalookslikeshewantstocrawlunderarock.Ormaybejumpoutoneofthemanywindowsinourapartment.Iknowshedoesn’tlikebeingputonthespot,andIprobablywouldn’tevenblameherifshedecidedtoflee.
ButwhatevermymothersaidtoherbeforeIcamehome—andIintendonfindingouteverylastwordthatwasspoken—hasclearlygivenSabrinaadoseofcourage.Shefrownsbrieflyatmymom,thenturnstomeandmeetsmygazestraighton
“Iloveyou,”sheconfirms.
Itakeastepcloser.“Sincewhen?”
“Sincefuckingalways.”Whenmymomwinces,Sabrinagivesherasheepishlook.“Sorry.TuckandIarestillgoingthroughalanguagetransition.Wedon’talwaysremembertosay‘fudge’and‘sugar,’okay?”Sheliftsaneyebrow.“Areyougoingtolecturemeaboutthattoo?”
Mom’slipstwitchasifshe’stryingnottolaugh.“No,”shesaysfaintly.“I’mnot.Infact…”Shemakesabigshowofslippingintoherwinterbootsandcoat.“IthinkI’lltakeawalkaroundtheblock.Ilovelookingatallthesnow.”
“Bullshit,”Icoughintomyhands.Mymomdespiseswinterandwebothknowit.
Sheglaresatmeonherwaytothedoor.“Pleasespeedupthislanguagetransition,John.”Andthenshe’sgone,andSabrinaandIexchangegrins.
Thehumordoesn’tlastlong,though.
“I’msorry,”Sabrinatellsme.
“Forwhat?”Ibridgethedistancebetweenusandplantbothhandsonherslenderhips.
“Ididn’tmeantoberudetoyourmother.It’sjust…shesaidsome…hurtfulthings.”Sheholdsupherhandwhensheseesmydarkexpression.“They’renotworthrepeating,andIhaveafeelingshewon’tsaythatkindofstuffanymore.”
Inodslowly.“Youmeannowthatsheknowsyouloveme?”
“Yeah.”
Isearchherbeautifulfaceforamomentbeforesmilingagain.“Sincefuckingalways,huh?”
“Well,maybenotalways,”sheconcedes.“Iwon’tlie,Tuck.Thatconnectionyoutalkedaboutwhenwefirstmet?Aboutoureyesmeetingacrosstheroomandhowyoufeltsomethinginthatmoment?”Sabrinasighs.“AllIfeltwaslustthatnight.”
“Iknow.”
“Butit’snotjustlustanymore.Ithasn’tbeenaboutthatforalongtime.”
“When?”Ican’thelpbuttease.“Whendidyoufigureoutyou’remadlyinlovewithme?”
“Idon’tknow.Maybeonthatridiculousdoubledate?MaybewhenyoutookcareofmewhenIthoughtIwassick?Whenyougotmethebriefcase?WhenyoupunchedoutRayinmyhonor?”Eachwordislinedwithwonder.“Idon’tknowexactlywhen,Tuck,butIknowIloveyou.”
Alumprisesinmythroat.“Whydidn’tyousayanythingsooner?”
“BecauseIwasscared.AndbecauseIwasn’tsureifyouactuallylovedmeback—”
“Areyoukiddingme?Ilostmyheadforyouthesecondwemet.Youknowthat.”
Shestubbornlysticksoutherchin.“Ifiguredyouwerethinkingwithyourdick.Guysdothat.”
I’llgiveherthat.ButI’veneverbeenoneofthoseguys.
“AndthenIgotpregnant,andIwasworriedyouwereconfusingyourfeelingsforthebabywithyourfeelingsforme.”Sherakesahandthroughhersilkydarkhair.“Butthebiggestthingis…was…thatI…I…”
Istrokeherhips.“Youwhat?”
Tearsclingtoherlongeyelashes.“Ican’tbethepersonwhoruinsyourlife.Ialreadyturnedyouintoafatherearlierthanyouwantedtobeone.Ididn’twantlovetocomplicateeverything.Ididn’twant…”Sheblinksrapidly.“Ididn’twantyoutowakeuponedayandhateme.”
Igrowl.“Hateyou?Jesus,woman.”Haulinghertightagainstme,Iburymyfaceinherneck.“Youstilldon’tgetit,doyou?”
“Getwhat?”sheasksinasmallvoice.
“You.Me.Us.This.”Ispitoutwordsastheypopintomyhead.“You’retheone,Sabrina.There’snooneelseformeinthisworld,nobodybutyou.IfIwasdrivingandsawyouonthesideoftheroad?YoubetterbelieveI’dripoutasparkplugortwoifitmeantgettingtospendevenfivesecondsinyourpresence.You’rethefuckingone.”
Herbreathhitches.
“Evenifyoudidn’tgivemeJamie—whichisthegreatestgoddamngiftintheworld,bytheway—I’dstillwanttobewithyou.Evenifyouhadn’tsaidyoulovedmeback,I’dtakewhateverscrapsyouwerewillingtogivemeaslongasIcouldbewithyou.Idon’tgiveashitifthatmakesmepathetic—”
“You’renotpathetic.”Herexpressionisfiercenow.“Youcouldneverbepathetic.”
“Iwouldn’tcareifyouthoughtIwas.”Icupherfaceinmyhandsandwipeawayhertearswithmythumbs.“You’rethebestthingthat’severhappenedtome,SabrinaJames.”
“No.”Shesmiles.“You’rethebestthingthat’severhappenedtome.”
BeforeIcanleandowntokissher,aheartycrywailsthroughtheapartment.
“Andthat,”Imurmur,“isthebestthingthat’severhappenedtoeitheroneofus.”
Atearbreaksfreefromherlashesandslidesdownhercheek.“Yes.Itis.”
Jamieletsoutanotherbloodcurdlingshriek,andwebothhurrytowardthecorridorthatleadstothebedrooms.Rightoutsidethenurserydoor,though,IstopSabrinabytakingherhand.
“Shecancryforfivemoreseconds,”Idecide.“We’retryingoutthatself-soothingthinganyway,remember?”
Herlipsquiverwithhumor.“Ithoughtyouwereagainstit.”Shedeepenshervoiceandgivesitadrawltomimicme.“‘Iain’tgonnaletmyprincesssuffer,darlin’.Whatkindoffatherdoesthat?’”
Myjawdropsinoutrage.“Ididnotsayain’t.”
“Youmayaswellhave.”
Rollingmyeyes,Itughertowardmeandcaptureherbottomlipbetweenmyteeth.Sabrinamoansinresponse,whichwakesupmycock.
“Iwantedakiss,”Igrumbleagainsthermouth.“Notsexnoises.”
“Toobad.You’regettingboth.”Sheproceedstostickhertongueinmymouthandkisstheshitoutofmeuntilwe’rebothmakingsexnoises.
Whenwebreakapart,we’rebothlaughingandbreathinghard,andJamieisstillscreamingherdispleasuretoanyonewho’lllisten.
“C’mon,let’sgowaitontheprincess,”Sabrinasayswithasmile.
Shegivesmyassaplayfulsmack,andthenwewalkintothenursery,hand-in-hand,toseeourdaughter.Epilogue
Sabrina
OneYearLater
TuckerwalksaheadofmeintotheprivateboxatTDGarden.He’sholdingasquirmingJamieinhisarms,buthereffortstowiggleoutofhisgriparefutile,becauseherdaddy’sstrongasfuck.Eversinceshestartedwalking,she’sdemandingtogoeverywhereonherowntwolittlefeet.Andshe’sfrickin’fast.Iswear,Iturnmyheadandthekidisgone.LatelyI’vebeenrethinkingmyopiniononparentswholeashtheirchildren.
“Sorrywe’relate,”Tuckertellstheroom.
Severalheadsturninourdirection.Idon’trecognizehalfthepeopleinthisexecutivesuite,buttheonesIdorecognizebringahappysmiletomylips.
“You’rehere!”Gracejumpsupfromherseatandracesovertous.“Loganisgoingtobesopsychedthatyoumadeit.”
“Wealmostdidn’t,”Tuckersaysruefully.Herufflesourdaughter’sreddish-brownhair.“Thelittleprincesscouldn’tdecidewhichuncle’sjerseyshewantedtowear.”
“Ha,”Isaywithasnort.“Shecouldn’tdecide?”IgiveGraceawarmhugandthenturntodothesametoHannah,who’swanderedovertosayhi.“Tuckistheonewhowasmoaningandgripingaboutit.”
“Andyetyouchoseneither,”Hannahpointsout,grinningatJamie’spinkhockeyjersey,whichhasthewords“Daddy’sGirl”stitchedontotheback.
Custom-made,ofcourse.Tuckerlikestogetthingscustom-made.Probablybecausetheridiculousshithecomesupwithinhisheadisn’tavailabletonormalconsumers.
“She’llstartalternating,”Tuckerpromises.“Onegameshe’llwearG’sjersey,thenextshe’llwearLogan’s.Hey,Jean.Goodtoseeyou.”HestepsforwardtohugLogan’smother,whoisbeamingwithpride.
Idon’tblameher.Hersonisabouttomakehisdebutinthepros,afterspendingayearplayingforsomethingTuckcallsthe‘farmteam.’Istillhaven’tbotheredtostudyuponhockey.I’mtoobusyworkingmybuttoffinmysecondyearatHarvard.Somehow,Imanagedtomakeitthroughmyfirstyearwithouthavinganervousbreakdown.IevenmadeLawReview,muchtoLettuceHead’s—akaKale’s—dismay.
Tucker’sdoingwelltoo.Thebarturnedabiggerprofitinitsfirstyearthaneitherofushadexpected.SomeofthemoneywassetasideforacollegefundforJamie,buthe’splanningoninvestingtherestinasecondlocation.Downtown,thistime,whichwilleitherbeahugebustorasmashingsuccess.Ihavefaithinmyman,soI’mgoingwiththesecondone.
“Sugar,”Tuckercurses,hisgazeshiftingtothehugewindowthatoverlooksthearena.“Thegame’salreadystarted?”
“Onlytwominutesintothefirstperiod,”Hannahassureshim.“Loganhasn’tevenplayedashiftyet.”
“Hemightnotplayatall,”Gracesaysglumly.“Hewarnedmetheymightnotgivehimanyicetime.”
“Ofcoursetheywill,”Jeandeclares.“He’sasuperstar.”
Ihideasmilebehindmyhand.Yeah.Iknowwhatit’sliketobeaproudmother.Jamiesaidherfirstwordlastweek—“Boo,”andyes,itfuckingcountsasaword—andIdamnnearshouteditfromtherooftops.IrecordedhersayingitthreetimesandthensentthevideoofftoTucker’smom,whoimmediatelycalledmeupandwespentthirtyminutesravingabouthowsmartsheis.
MamaTuckerandIhavegottenalongsplendidlyeversincesheacceptedthatIlovehersonandthatI’mnotgoinganywhere.I’mnotsureifit’llstillbethecasewhenshemovestoBostonnextspring.I’mabitnervousabouthavinghercloseby,butafterJamie’sfirstbirthday,whichMrs.Tuckerwasn’ttherefor,Tuck’smomdecidedthatshesimplycannotstandtobesofarawayfromherpreciousgranddaughter.She’ssavingupsomemoremoneyfirst,andthenshe’smovingeasttoopenherownhairsalon.Tucker,ofcourse,isinsistingonprovidingthecapitalforit.
Mysoon-to-behusbandisasaint.WhenheproposedafterthesmallbirthdaypartywethrewforJamie,Ialmostsaidno.Sometimesitscaresmehowincrediblethismanis.I’mterrifiedthatI’msomehowgoingtoscrewthisup,butTuckerconstantlyremindsmethatthisisit.HeandIareit.Forever.
“Where’sDean?”Iask,searchingtheroomforhisblondhead.
“Hecouldn’thavemadeitintime,”Hannahexplains.“Hecoachesthegirls’hockeyteamathisschoolandtheypracticeTuesdayandThursdayevenings.”
Inod.IhadtobailonastudysessiontobeabletoattendthisTuesdaynightgame.Butit’sharderforDeanandAllietodropeverythingwhenthey’relivinginManhattan.TheymadeittoJamie’sparty,though.Deanboughtherastuffedunicornthatshecartsaroundeverywhere.
Hannah,Carin,Hope,GraceandIgettogetheronceamonth,nomatterwhat,tocommiserateoverschool,life,andlove.Carin’smovedonfromherTAandismadlyinlovewithaguestlecturerfromLondon.Shesaysthateverything’ssexierwithaBritishaccent.Ican’tdisagree.IloveTucker’ssoutherndrawlandhopeheneverlosesit.
HopetoldmesheandD’Andrearetalkingaboutmarriageandafamily.They’rejealousoverJamieandtalkabouthowtheywanttobeyoungparents.
Allinall,we’reahappygroup.
SometimesIworrythatwe’retoohappy,butthenavisittoNana’shousebringsthingsintofocus.We’rehappybecausewewanttobe,becausewe’repouringourenergyandemotionintoeachotherinthebestpossibleway.
Mygoal,onceuponatime,wastosucceed.Ididn’trealizethatsuccesswasn’tgradesorscholarshipsorachievements,butthepeopleIwasluckyenoughtohaveinmylife.
AsIlookaroundtheroom,Iwanttogiveeveryoneahugandathank-you.AhugtoexpresshowmuchIlovethemandathank-youforlovingmeback.
Becauseloveistheultimategoal.It’snottheoneIhadstrivedfor,butIwasluckyenough,sodamnlucky,toachieveit.OtherTitlesbyElleKennedy
IfyouenjoyedTucker’sstory,makesuretocheckouttheothertitlesintheOff-Campusseries:
TheDeal(Garrett’sbook)
TheMistake(Logan’sbook)
TheScore(Dean’sbook)
TheGoal(Tucker’sbook)
Forotherretailerlinksandinformationaboutprintoraudioversionsofthesetitles,visittheseriespagesonmywebsite.
Don’tforgettosignupformynewslettertoreceiveupdatesandexclusiveexcerptsastheybecomeavailable.
YoucanalsojoinmyFacebookgroupEverythingElleKennedytodiscussbookswithotherreaders,andtakepartinallsortsofgiveaways!
*
Forallthem/mfansoutthere,checkoutHIMandUS,myNewAdulthockeyromancesco-writtenwiththefabulousSarinaBowen
Cracktastic?Check!Drama-filled?Check!YoungAdultstyleromance?Youbet!BesuretocheckoutPaperPrincess,thefirstbookinTheRoyalsseriesco-writtenwiththeamazingJenFrederickunderourpseudonymErinWatt
*
Ifyou’reinterestedinmyeroticromanceand/orromanticsuspensetitles,checkoutthesebestsellingseries:
KillerInstincts
Outlaws
OutofUniform
AfterHours
DreamMakers(withVivianArend)
MoretitlesalsoavailableonmywebsiteAuthor’sNote
Ican’tbelievethisisthefourth(andfinal)bookintheOff-Campusseries!It’salwayssosadformetosaygoodbyetocharactersIadore,butdon’tyouworry,dearreader…thereisaspinoffintheworks!
Asalways,Icouldn’thavesurvivedthisprojectwithoutthehelpofsomeveryawesomepeople.
EarlyreadersViv,Jen,SarinaandVifortheinvaluablefeedbackandgeneralbest-friendship.
MyeditorGwen,whoisthesecondbiggestdog-lover(aftermyself,ofcourse)ontheplanetandthereforethebestpersonever.
Mypublicist/cheerleader/soulmateNinaBocciforlovingthisseriesasmuchasIdo.
SarahHansen(OkayCreations)fortheabs-liciouscover!
NicoleandNatasha—myangelssentfromheaven.
Kristy,foralltheworkyoudointheFBgroup!
SharonMuha,justbecause.
Andfinally,YOU!Thebloggersandreviewerswhocontinuetoraveabouttheseriesandspreadtheword.Thereaderswhosendmethesweetest,mostenthusiasticmessagesaboutthesebooks.ThemembersofmyFacebookgroup(EverythingElleKennedy)whomakemelaughonadailybasis.
So,yes—you.Thankyoufortakingthetimetoreadmybooks!AbouttheAuthor
ANewYorkTimes,USATodayandWallStreetJournalbestsellingauthor,ElleKennedygrewupinthesuburbsofToronto,Ontario,andholdsaBAinEnglishfromYorkUniversity.Fromanearlyage,sheknewshewantedtobeawriterandactivelybeganpursuingthatdreamwhenshewasateenager.Shelovesstrongheroinesandsexyalphaheroes,andjustenoughheatanddangertokeepthingsinteresting!
Ellelovestohearfromherreaders.Visitherwebsitewww.ellekennedy.comorsignupforhernewslettertoreceiveupdatesaboutupcomingbooksandexclusiveexcerpts.YoucanalsofindheronFacebookorfollowheronTwitter(@ElleKennedy).Copyright
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetopersons,livingordead,businessestablishments,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
TheGoal:AnOff-CampusNovel
Copyright?2016byElleKennedy
DigitalEdition
EditedbyGwenHayes
ProofedbyAquilaEditing
CoverArt?SarahHansen,OkayCreations
Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthisbookmayreproduced,scannedordistributedinanymannerwhatsoeverwithoutwrittenpermissionfromtheauthorexceptinthecaseofbriefquotationsembodiedinarticlesorreviews.