Mariah

Sixteen. I feel like a freaking sixteen-year-old girl. Specifically, like the day when I was sixteen and the captain of the basketball team told me I was beautiful. Of course, he never said it again and continued on with his girlfriend who just happened to be Chrissy’s best friend. Still, I relived that moment for years.

Lying in bed with my hair still in a weird bun from the bath, I can’t wipe the goofy grin on my face. My forehead still sings with the feeling of his against mine. My cheek feels warm from the remembered heat of his palm. My heart is so full from the memories of Grandma Betsy brought out by Lance’s Nana. What a wonderful and weird evening.

Lance is a lot of things. Some of them I didn’t realize until tonight. It never occurred to me that he could be sweet or that he would go out of his way for … me. My head scrambles, trying to process too much information too quickly. I close my eyes, but just see his face.

Just like the sixteen-year-old version of myself, I’m on the precipice of falling. Whether in love or in lust or in a slight obsession, I’m not sure. I just know with absolute certainty I can’t do this again with Lance Gibson.

He’s a dead-end street. A good girl’s worst nightmare.

An unnecessary problem.

There’s so much potential beneath that sexy exterior. It’s almost possible to be tempted to give in and play his game. But I’m not just a good girl, I’m also a smart one. Smart enough to know it’s a game I’m well-versed in and one that will send me to heartbreak without passing go.

His smirk curls through my mind, like the slow, sly way the corners of his lips upturn. My back arches off the sheets, my toes digging into the mattress as I relive his touch.

My palm drags over my chest, remembering the feel of his hand on the small of my back, pulling at the towel covering my body. The air bites away at my warm skin, beading my nipples as I slip my hand between my legs. Covering the stretch of flesh connecting my thighs, a dampened heat warms my fingers.

I can’t do this every night. I can’t get myself off every twenty-four hours while pretending Lance is licking me. Touching me. Fucking me in positions I didn’t even know I could dream up.

Dipping fingertips into my soaked flesh, I release a shuddered breath. My decision is made.

I’m going to take matters into my own hands. And then I’m going to take other matters in my own hands before I’m really screwed.

* * *

Lance

Every light in my house is on. I went room to room and flipped every switch, looking for something to entertain myself. I don’t even care what it is as long as it’s distracting and fully consuming.

And not Mariah.

Falling spectacularly onto the guest room bed makes the springs squeak under my weight. This doesn’t help my current predicament. With every move I make, it sounds like a precursor to a good fuck and that makes my cock hurt worse.

“Damn it,” I growl out loud.

Hands over my face to block out the light I just turned on, my foot bounces on the floor. It’s a habit I’ve had since I was a kid and one I’m constantly on my students about. Sit still. Stop moving.

But I can’t.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I don’t take it out. It’s a reminder that I didn’t check the message on my dating app. The one from Nerdy Nurse.

“You should log in and find someone to fuck, you asshole,” I say to myself. “That would solve this stupid little fascination you have with Mariah.”

Just saying her name makes my balls tighten.

Cringing, I unbutton my pants and try to relieve some pressure. It just gives me more room to grow.

Historically speaking, getting off cures a lot of these type of ailments. Any time I think I might actually like a girl for more than her pussy, I can just come and everything is fixed. It’s almost magic. Like my jizz is some kind of anti-ship medication, proven to wash away any thoughts of words ending with those four letters.

The problem is this: I’ve already jacked off once since I got home. Thinking about Mariah’s round ass and swollen lips only made it worse. It’s like my cock is mad at me. Like it knew it wasn’t the real thing and now feels cheated.

Sighing, I get off the bed and roll my eyes at the squeak. Even the bed is taunting me.

My phone is heavy in my pocket and I take it out. The notification is on the front screen from Nerdy Nurse. I almost open it. Almost.

I stall. I get a drink. I place my phone on the fucking counter and purposefully walk into the other room like it’s a barrel of feelings I’m trying to avoid because God knows I avoid those. But it’s not. It’s a phone. A message from a woman I’ve been happily trading messages with for what feels like a long time.

Peeking around the corner, it sits right where I left it beside the coffee pot. I kind of hoped it would just vanish.

“Get your shit together,” I warn myself. Like a man on a mission, I march into the grey and blue kitchen and pick it up. Then I open it and call the only person I know to call. It rings four times before she picks up.

“Hello?” she asks.

“Hey, Blaire.”

“Preface this conversation by telling me if anyone is in jail.”

“No,” I laugh. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “It’s Saturday night. You’re calling late. The last time I talked to you, you were giving me a dissertation on dating apps. Machlan called a little while ago and he and Peck were going at it before the call was ended.”

“I take it back. I’m not in jail. I don’t know about the rest of them.”

She releases a long, frustrated breath. “Sometimes you guys make me feel like I already have kids.”

“When you’re an excellent mother one day, you can thank us.”

Her laugh, something you don’t hear too much from my sister, rolls through the phone. “Not planning on having kids anytime soon. Maybe ever.” As if she catches herself, her laughter mellows. “That was really inconsiderate of me.”

“It’s fine,” I say, not wanting to go there. Not right now. “Blaire, I have a problem.”

“Well, kudos to you for getting to the point without me dragging it out of you. Tell Walker to take notes.” The silence between us stretches longer than Blaire’s patience. “If you aren’t going to tell me, let me get off of here. I have a brief due in the morning and, while you find yourself fascinating, I really don’t.”

“You love me.”

“Clearly,” she scoffs. “Now what is it?”

Taking a deep breath, I pace around the living room. “I think you need to commit me.”

“What?”

“Commit me. Find a nice psychiatric hospital and just put me in it. Keep money on my commissary and I’ll pay you when I get out.”

“First of all, it’s a commissary in jail. Unless you’ve committed a crime, you should be good. On that note—”

“I’m a law-abiding citizen,” I interrupt.

It’s her turn to blow out a breath. “Good. In that case, why do you need a psychiatric hospital?”

“Blaire. I’m feeling … guilt,” I gulp. “This is not funny.”

She continues to laugh at me.

“Damn it, Blaire.”

“There’s a part of me that doesn’t even want to know.”

“Fine. I’m sorry I called you.”

“Oh, stop being a baby,” she huffs. The sound of paper crinkles through the line before she clears her throat. “Why do you have guilt?”

My free hand digs into my scalp as I pace the little path I’ve made around the living room. “Okay. There’s this girl, all right? I haven’t actually met her before.”

“Is she an app girl?”

“Yeah. She’s an app girl,” I say, irritated by her unnecessary interruption. “We’ve texted back and forth for a while through the app and she’s funny, you know? Witty as hell.”

“And?”

“And nothing. That’s it about her.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Well, there’s this other girl,” I say, squirming. Stopping in my tracks, my hip against the recliner, I try to discern the correct place to start explaining Mariah.

My first instinct is to start with her smile, but Blaire won’t care about that. Probably not her icing either or that Nana basically bequeathed her Pyrex collection to her last night. Do I start with the fact that she’s a librarian or that she thinks I’m a dick or that she tried to date a dork of epic proportions tonight?

“Lance?” Blaire asks carefully. “You still here?”

“Yeah,” I groan.

“I have one question for you.”

“Okay.”

“Who did you meet first?”

“I’ve known Mariah longer,” I admit. “But, like, I haven’t. I mean, we work together, so I’ve known her like that. But not like that, if you feel me.”

“I have something to tell you and you probably aren’t going to like it.”

“Is the only hospital you know all male? Because that won’t work for me,” I tell her. “I need some action even if I’m crazy.”

She laughs again, but softer this time. “You like Mariah.”

The snort comes before I can stop it. “Of course I like her. There’s not much not to like. Except the way she razzes me. And refuses to sleep with me. And I would never tell her this, but her mint chocolate chip icing isn’t my favorite.”

“Lance.”

“You sound like Mom when you do that,” I note, a wobble in my tone. My throat goes dry as I listen to my sister.

“Is the guilt you feel because you are messing with both ladies at the same time?”

“I’ve never felt this way before,” I say through the cotton in my throat. “I’ve fucked three, four women at the same time. I mean, not at the same time because I’m not sure I even have the energy for that, but I’d try if it—”

“Lance.”

“Yeah?”

“Listen to yourself. I’ve never heard you like this. Ever.”

I slip over the arm of the chair and land haphazardly across it. “That makes two of us,” I say straight-faced.

“Break things off with app girl and see where they go with the other.”

“Mariah?”

“Yes, Mariah. Just see what happens. What can it hurt?”

“Oh, ya know,” I say, letting my head fall backwards. “Just everything.”

She rambles on about taking a risk and opening myself up. Then the conversation ventures into how losing our parents made us close ourselves off from the world and how she understands that but maybe it’s not the right thing to do.

“So, is the Ice Queen thawing?” I snicker.

“Go to Hell, Lance.”

Sitting up, I get positioned correctly in the chair. My temple throbs with every move I make. The more I think about the rest of the conversation I want to have with her, the worse it gets.

My pulse beats in my ears. My heart pounds against my ribcage. I finally get to my feet and start the pacing again because I have to rid myself of some of this stupid, worthless energy.

“What if I know I’m not what she wants,” I say, choosing my words carefully.

“Have you asked her that? Girls get upset when guys assume they know what we want. Except chocolate. It’s a freebie.”

“I’m being serious here.”

“Me too,” she sighs. “Fine. Why do you think you aren’t what she wants?”

I pace. “Okay, I probably am what she wants. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh, my God.”

“But what if I can’t give her what she wants? If I pursue her knowing that, does that make me a dick?”

“You are a dick,” she points out. “But in this case specifically, I guess it matters why you think you can’t give her whatever this is.”

“What if …” My breath is shaky as I try to pull my thoughts together and not sound like a pussy. “What if I know what kind of girl she is and what she’s going to want and I can’t give that to her?”

“Lance, listen to me. A relationship is like a contract, okay? Contracts are amended all the time. Let’s say you two start something today. You start it based on the current situation. However, a year from now, things might change. They do change. It’s life. You just amend your contract.”

My nostrils flare as I exhale. “But isn’t it a waste of everyone’s time if I know there’s a needed amendment that I won’t sign?”

“Do you have a crystal ball?”

“Yeah, I do,” I groan. “I know where this would lead. I purposefully stay away from women I think I might actually like outside of bed because I don’t want to do this again.”

“She was an asshole, Lance.”

“Nah, she wasn’t. Her conditions were understandable.” I start to think of Britt, the only girl I’ve ever dated, but shove it out of my mind. “I bend over backwards not to go there and yet here I am. Feeling guilt and I haven’t even fucked either one of them.”

Papers rustle again. I wonder if she’s listening to me and working at the same time. Wouldn’t surprise me, but it’s annoying too. I’m dying here and she’s letting me.

“Are you listening to me?” I ask.

“Yes. I’m listening to you. You’re basically talking to yourself.”

“I’m just trying to explain myself. Am I not being a better man by not holding her up so that someone else can give her a fabulous life with all the trimmings. But not Jonah. Fuck Jonah.”

“Who’s Jonah?”

“Never mind,” I sigh. “I think I’ve answered my own question.”

Looking at my reflection, I realize how much I look like my father. Same hair, same eyebrows, same slightly crooked nose. I never wanted to be him, like Walker did. But I always admired how he ran his shit.

He was at every baseball game, mud-bog, cross-country race we entered. He’d stay up all night and help us with geometry, teaching it to himself as he taught us. More than that, he loved our mother. You could see it when you looked at him. My friends’ parents got divorced or separated and I never once worried about that. My parents would be together until the day they died; and they were.

That part of my father, the man, that’s who I always aspired to be. Someone to teach my kids right from wrong, to make a difference somehow by putting out these little humans into the world who were an asset to society. To someday be in Goodman’s and hearing someone brag about one of my kids or grandkids without knowing I was in there. I wanted to be that guy. And that’s the guy I’ll probably never be.

“I think you take a chance, Lance. If she likes you, she deserves the opportunity to decide whether or not you’re good enough for her.”

I’m not.

“Blaire, I gotta go.”

“You okay? Honestly. Don’t blow smoke up my ass because I’ll call Machlan.”

“I’m fine. I promise. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Do that. Love you.”

“You too, Sis. Bye.”

Ending the call, I hold the phone in my hand. Opening the app is more because of loneliness than sex this time.

Nerdy Nurse: Fun Fact—the term boy has been used since 1154 AD to describe a male. It’s believed that the word is derived from boia, which means servant.

Me: And here I thought it came from boa constrictor. Like our cocks.

Nerdy Nurse: What are you doing tonight?

Me: Just got home.

Nerdy Nurse: Hot date?

A grin tilts my lips as I think of Mariah and our non-date date. Whether it was or wasn’t, she was hot. So that’s a yes.

Me: Maybe the hottest ever, actually.

Nerdy Nurse: I guess I have something to live up to, huh?

My fingers race across the keys. I don’t even realize what I’ve typed out until I hit send and the words are printed on my screen.

Me: Actually, I’m probably not going to be using this app much longer.

There’s a long, probably deliberate, pause and I hope I haven’t hurt her feelings.

Me: I do wish we would’ve gotten to meet though. I think we could’ve hit it off. I mean, I haven’t had a conversation this good without an orgasm for, well, maybe ever.

Nerdy Nurse: I get it. I thought maybe I could figure out how to have a one-night stand on here, but I suck.

Me: You didn’t tell me you sucked. On second thought …

Nerdy Nurse: Ha, ha, ha. Maybe I’ll meet someone in real life who will sweep me off my feet.

Me: Don’t date doctors though. I’ve heard bad things about them.

Nerdy Nurse: They’re on my ‘no go’ list.

A thought crosses my mind and I toy with it for a moment. Going back and forth, I finally decide to take a chance.

Me: Now that sex is firmly off the table because although you do suck, you can’t fuck, maybe some time we could meet for dinner. Just so we can put a face to a name.

There’s another weird pause. Her chat bubble takes forever to start dancing to let me know she’s typing. I hold my breath, still unsure as to whether or not this is a good idea.

Nerdy Nurse: I have a friend I need to check on in the morning, but I’m open after that. If you want to grab lunch somewhere?

Me: Noon-ish?

Nerdy Nurse: Perfect. Where?

Nothing too fancy, nothing too fast-food. My brain sorts through locations until I remember Peaches.

Me: Peaches? It’s in Merom.

Nerdy Nurse: That works.

Me: See you then.