Chapter 7

Joey

“What the hell?” Andi snaps as I skitter back causing her to run into my back.

“Anthony is out there,” I hiss and redirect my legs to move me in the direction of my bedroom.

“You knew that was a real possibility, Bestie. Don’t act so fucking surprised.” She follows me back inside of my room, and I snap the door closed behind her.

“I look like a fucking homeless person.” I snap my tank top off before working the button open on the top of my cut-off shorts.

“You look like you always do.”

I glare at her as my favorite speedo hits the floor at my feet.

“Like shit? You’re saying I always look like shit?”

She laughs. “No.”

I glare harder.

Most people would probably think our dynamic is weird, but the fact that we strip around each other just shows how close we are. She only has eyes for my brother, and although I can appreciate her gorgeous body, she doesn’t have a thing I’m even remotely interested in.

“Fuck no! You look comfortable. You always look comfortable.”

“It’s Anthony,” I remind her. “I can’t look comfortable around Anthony.”

“As I recall, last weekend you said you weren’t interested, that he was straight and off-limits.”

“Don’t remind me about last weekend,” I mumble as I grab a fresh towel from the shelf in my closet.

Unfortunately, I also remember everything from last Friday night. I’m wild, having an I don’t give a damn attitude most days, but last weekend was overboard, even for me. The things I said to that man? I don’t know how I can even look him in the eyes now, but I’ll be damned if he’s going to see me looking like a hobo. I might have been dressed down last week at work and he still returned my kiss, but that’s not the point.

“I haven’t even washed my hair,” I grumble.

“Big deal.” She shrugs. “It’s hot as fuck, and we’re getting in the hot tub. You’re just going to have to wash it again. Why waste shampoo?”

“I haven’t shaved in a week,” I add. “I probably have things growing on my face.”

“That’s nasty, Jo.” I wrap the towel around my body, shoving her in the shoulder when I walk past to get to the bathroom.

“I work from home,” I insist.

I don’t do a damn thing during the week. Shaving isn’t a high priority for me. Hell, I can go weeks without a razor even coming close to my face.

I mean who gives a shit? I shouldn’t have to explain myself to anyone.

“Might want to do a little manscaping while you’re in there. I doubt Anthony’s the type of guy to like a bush.”

I call her every curse word I can think of between my bedroom and the bathroom.

When I feel her following me, I turn and stare at her.

“Wait for me,” I insist.

“Sorry, babe. I remembered to shave my cooch.”

“We have a rule,” I snap.

“I’m fucking hungry,” she whines but turns and closes herself back into my room. No doubt to torture my brother by sending aforementioned shaved cooch pictures.

“I’ll be quick,” I assure her before I lock myself inside.

Quick was a lie.

A half an hour later I’m blow-drying my hair, resigned that only shaving once a week may not be such a good idea moving forward, especially if Anthony is going to be a permanent fixture in our group. Not that he’ll have many opportunities to see my sack, but still.

Banging on the door startles me so much I nearly drop the dryer on the vanity.

“If you’re not out in the next three minutes, I’m going out there alone,” Andi warns through the door.

“You wouldn’t.” I pull open the door, barely catching my towel before it springs open and flashes her. A big mistake given my slightly heightened level of arousal with the scenarios I created in my head while showering.

Arms crossed over her chest and right leg cocked out, the look on her face tells me that three minutes may be pushing my luck.

After unplugging the hair-dryer, I wind the cord and toss it back under the sink. I catch her hand when we leave the bathroom as she tries to go toward the living room.

“Wait for me,” I insist again.

She follows me to the room, the heavy stomp of her feet a little childish and so much like my best friend that I can’t help but smile.

“You’re kidding right?”

Eyeing my best friend as she gawks at me, I slip the mint green speedo up my legs. “What? I paid too much for this suit not to put it to use.”

“I was there when you bought it.” Her smile turns devious. “We also talked about not giving your brother a heart attack until we were in Mexico.”

“He doesn’t have any problem with chicks wearing suits with half of their asses out, so he can’t have an opinion of mine.”

Smiling at the reminder of the annual cruise we take, I situate the fabric so it’s just right, repositioning my cock several times before it’s fully tucked inside.

“I’m breaking it in,” I tell her with a shrug as I adjust one more time in the mirror.

“You’re trying to break Anthony’s neck,” she clarifies.

I grin at her reflection. “I honestly don’t know what has gotten into me.”

“I think it has more to do with what you want to get into you.” Comically, she waggles her eyebrows up and down.

“He’s different.” Jesus, what am I saying? I barely manage to keep from slapping myself in the face for the near slip-up.

“You spent all of an hour in his physical presence the other night before you flashed your bits to him.”

I nod as I sit on the edge of my bed, remembering the strain of my dick last weekend. “That’s accurate, I guess.”

I check my hair in the mirror one more time before turning back to grin at her.

“You wouldn’t be obsessing over Anthony if you left this house periodically.”

I scrunch my nose. “I literally met him at the bar, not in my living room.”

“You met him while out with the guys,” she qualifies. “The only place you go without the guys is the damn grocery store, and even then you’re shopping for those idiots.”

“I make Jon do his own grocery shopping,” I counter.

“You made him do it once. He bought beer, tortilla chips, and bean dip and you went right back to doing all the shopping.”

“If I shop, he pays for the groceries. That’s the rule. I’m thinking he’s the one getting the short end of the stick.”

“He pays because his friends are the ones eating all the food,” she amends. “That’s not my point. You need to get out of this house more often and interact with people not associated with your brother.”

“I have other friends,” I grumble.

“Name them,” she challenges.

Sadly, I’m silent for over a minute as I run my entire life through my mind. I wouldn’t even consider Anthony a friend, but he’s literally the only one I’ve had any type of interaction with in recent weeks. “Penny.”

She snorts. “Penny? The girl in payroll at GMQ Architects?”

Only giving her a slight nod, I watch her face.

“You email her your billed hours, Jo. That’s not being friends.”

“We’re very cordial with each other. She sent me a personal email once.”

I’m pitiful. She’s completely right. I have no life outside of our group.

“She sent you a religious chain letter, and I spent an hour talking you down to prevent you from ripping into her.”

Scowling, I look in the direction of my bedroom door. Clearly, I’m still a little pissed about that.

“Jesus loves me even if I don’t send it to twenty people.”

Patting my shoulder, she does her best not to laugh at me. “Of course He does.”

“Fine,” I agree. “I don’t have any friends outside of our little group, but I’m comfortable. I like our group.”

“I do too. That’s not the point.”

“If you have one, getting to it sometime this century would be nice.”

Eyes narrowed. “My point is that you’re never going to find a guy if you don’t expand your circle.”

It’s hard not to argue with her because it’s what we do.

Turning away from her, I grab a fresh towel from my closet.

“Don’t get upset,” she says reading my emotions. “It’s just that Anthony seems so appealing right now because your circle is so small.”

He’s gorgeous, that’s why he’s so appealing.

“You seem to think I’m obsessed with the guy.”

“You sounded pretty obsessed in the cab,” she counters.

“I was drunk. He’s good looking. End of story. You know I don’t do the straight guy thing. Even as much as I joke about turning Prince Charming gay, you know I don’t mess with guys who don’t know what they want in life. I’m not a fucking experiment.”

Her face softens when she realizes how upset I’ve become.

“I know exactly what you need. I’m going to take you out,” she insists as I step out of the closet and wrap the towel around my body. “We’ll find you a man.”

Knowing that she’s quick to look at my circle of friends without bothering to acknowledge that my circle is exactly her circle, I just leave my room. She’ll follow me without question. Her true love is out back, in our very small circle of friends, after all.