Justine
The scent of fresh-baked bread hits me when I walk through Merica’s unlocked door. Carbs. Thank God. I need them.
Merica comes in from the balcony and slides the door shut behind her. She cocks a hip and puts a hand on it.
“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
“Did you already pour the wine?”
“Of course.”
An hour later, I finish my third glass of wine and Merica stares at me slack-jawed. A half-eaten loaf of amazingly delicious bread and the remains of a demolished stick of butter sit between us.
“Ho. Ly. Shit. How did you keep this to yourself? Seriously. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I told you, Justice Grant told me I couldn’t. But I decided I had to invoke the unwritten, unspoken best friend exception, even if I’m technically violating the contract.”
“Screw the contract. This is way too important to worry about that.”
“But what the hell am I going to do? I feel like I’m crossing a line here.”
“Ryker’s the one that threw down the deal, though, right? He’s the one pushing you to study with him. So what if he’s motivated by pussy and blow jobs now? He’s a guy—they’re always motivated by pussy and blow jobs. Now you know he’s going to get the grades and you get your tuition paid. You’re not doing anything wrong, Jus.”
Which is exactly what I’ve been attempting to get myself to believe. I’m not doing anything wrong. Right?
“You really don’t think I’m crossing into the gray area here?”
Merica reaches for the box of wine and slides it over the edge of the table before holding her glass underneath the spout and pressing the button. When it’s filled an inch from the brim, she releases the button and raises it to her lips.
“You wouldn’t be wrestling with this so much if you didn’t think you were. But I think you need to cut yourself a break. You’ve busted your ass for every single thing you’ve ever gotten. You got dealt a shitty hand in so many ways, and to lose a full ride at the beginning of third year? That’s just another epically shitty blow. Life is just a series of decisions. What other acceptable choice did you have? None. I know it, and you know it. So make your peace with the fact that you did what you had to do and move on.”
I’m afraid to give voice to the last concern rolling around in my head. I refill my glass and take a long swallow before I find the courage to put it into words.
“But what if this actually becomes something . . . real? Then what?”
Merica studies me, probably catching all my nervous tells. “Do you think it’s going to?”
“I don’t know. We’re going in totally different directions. I want to work at Legal Aid and make a difference. I don’t think he has a clue what he wants to do with his life. At this point, I just know that I don’t hate spending time together. I actually . . . I kind of like him, even though I didn’t want to.”
Merica’s shrewd gaze assesses me—hearing all the things I’m saying and all the things I’m not. “Do you think you could fall for him?”
It’s a question I’ve been avoiding asking myself because I’m afraid to even consider the possibility. “I don’t know. I just . . . I’m worried about what would happen if in some crazy parallel universe, I did.”
“There’s no point in borrowing trouble now. Just roll with it. Maybe you both kill the midterm, have your fling and the sex sucks, and you move on.”
A smile tugs at my lips because I can’t imagine the sex could possibly suck. But she’s right—I’m always planning my life out seventeen steps ahead, and right now, I just need to focus on the next goal in front of me, not a bunch of stuff I can’t control. Like she said, why borrow trouble?
Merica lifts her glass again and after she sips, she taps a nail on the side. “Now tell me, how big is that package he’s packing? Is it everything Becca said it was and more?”
I choke on my wine mid-swallow at her question. After I finish coughing up a lung, I stare her down. “Did I not just tell you I might like him, like him?”
She nods.
“And you’re still asking me this?”
“Of course. Friends don’t let friends date guys with small penises. If it’s avoidable, that is.”
“Let’s just say I have no complaints.”
A grin stretches across her face. “I knew it! For all that you’ve avoided men, you wouldn’t jump back into the game for a small cock.” She holds her glass aloft. “But this does deserve a toast. To Justine, may you get everything you’ve ever wanted, including all the best orgasms.”
I lift my wineglass and clink against hers. “Cheers.”
“So tell me, who was that hottie in the car? Are you thinking of taking them both on? Are you up for the two-dicks-and-one-chick situation?”
The base of my wineglass smacks against the table as I sit it down. “Hell no. There will be only one dick approaching this chick.”
Her laugh fills the room. “That’s what I thought. Well, if Jimmy ever gets boring . . .”
I grab another chunk of bread and toss it at her head.