One Night (Friends #0.5) Page 5

  “I’ll miss you too,” she whispers, her eyes falling shut when I run my fingers through her hair. She always likes it when I do that. “Hmm, that’s nice.”

  That little hum she makes does something to me. Makes my stomach knot and my skin grow hot. I pull her into me and she doesn’t resist. I wrap my arms around her and she slips her arms around my neck, her hands in my hair this time and her touch feels so damn good, I’m going on pure instinct.

  I close my eyes, touch my mouth to hers and she parts her lips, inviting me in. The kiss goes deep and hot in a second, hands everywhere, a low groan sounding, a whimper following. I slip my hand underneath her shirt, touch her bra and I feel her shiver, her skin dotted with goose bumps.

  She breathes my name on a sigh and I shift my hands, tightening them on her waist so I can back us both up, until we’re right next to the bed. Carefully I guide her down and she falls back on the mattress, her eyes still closed, her lips parted and dark red hair spread all across the pillow. I watch her, trying to catch my breath, calm myself down. I don’t want to rush this or push her too hard.

  But I can also barely keep myself from touching her. So I give into my urges, slipping my fingers beneath her shirt, skim them across the flat plain of her stomach. She’s shivering, a little gasp escaping her when I trace the edge of her bra and when I glance up at her face, I see that she’s watching me. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted slightly and when she sneaks her tongue out to lick them, I want to groan in agony.

  She drives me insane and she has no idea.

  “I thought…” Her voice drifts and she visibly swallows. “I thought we weren’t going to take this any further tonight.”

  “We won’t,” I whisper, rubbing my thumb along the soft skin just below her belly button, right above the snap of her shorts. “Nothing that we’ve already done, right.”

  Liv says nothing and I take that as a positive sign. I undo the button on her shorts, tug down the zipper. Pull her shorts down her long legs, until they’re tangled around her ankles and she’s kicking them onto the floor. She’s wearing black cotton panties and I’m suddenly overcome with the urge to tear them off. But I remain in check.

  She’d probably freak out if I did something like that.

  So I do my best to stay in control. I touch her just right, in all the places she likes, and the places I like too. She touches me with tentative fingers, always hesitant, a little unsure. I always want more, but I never push. I kiss her until my mouth is sore and our breaths are coming so fast, it sounds like we just ran the biggest race of our lives. My heart is racing and I feel like I’m going to explode yet I’m gentle with her. Patient.

  Always patient.

  *

  Afterward, we go downstairs, splitting up when I hit the kitchen and she heads outside to the backyard. I’m sure she’s looking for Em, as usual. I’m looking for beer. Or any type of alcohol I can get, because I’ve lost my buzz and I really need one right now.

  I get her off every single time, and sometimes I get off too, but not tonight. And I really wanted to, considering she’s leaving tomorrow. But once it was over for her and she became aware of her surroundings, she got nervous when she heard voices just out in the hall. I reassured her nothing bad was going to happen, but she became paranoid and dressed quickly, like we were about to get caught. Leaving me lying on the bed with my shorts around my ankles and a hard on straining against my underwear.

  Yeah. Freaking sucked.

  The kitchen is crowded with people and I find a mostly empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. I grab it and drink straight from the bottle, relishing the burn as the liquor slides down my throat and settles in my belly. I drain the last of it and set the bottle back on the counter, turning to find Em standing in front of me, that always knowing smirk on her face.

  “Hey.” I wipe at the corner of my mouth with my thumb, catching the last of the whiskey. “Livvy is looking for you.”

  “Why?” She arches a brow, resting her hands on her hips. She’s…wet, I’d guess from the pool or the hot tub, but she’s got her clothes on. Yet I can see water drops lingering on her skin and her hair is soaked, slicked back from her head and smudges of mascara beneath her eyes.

  “I don’t know.” I shrug, wishing I had more booze. I’m grabbing a beer as soon as I can get away from Em. “Maybe because she’s leaving tomorrow and wants to spend time with you?”

  “Oh. Yeah, I’ll miss her.” There’s not even a single note of sincerity in her voice. Damn, this girl has become cold these last few months. “So. What are you up to?”

  The moment she asks the question, Livvy appears, standing right beside her. “Em! There you are.”

  “Here I am.” Em holds her hands out and wiggles her fingers, the mocking tone not hard to miss. “What’s going on, girlfriend?”

  “Nothing much. Tonight has been…interesting.” Livvy giggles, hooking her arm through mine. Her cheeks are pink and her smile is wide. She’s pretty much glowing, and I can only assume I’m the one who put that look on her face.

  And corny as it sounds, that makes my chest swell up with pride.

  They gossip for a few minutes before Livvy excuses herself, saying she has to use the restroom. The second she’s gone Em’s stepping closer to me. So close, her boobs brush against my chest and my boner threatens to make its reappearance.

  Great.

  “So what happened? You make her come and she leaves you in agony?” Both of her brows are up with that question.

  Pretty much. Not that I want to admit that to Em. “We’re fine.”

  “Uh huh.” She smirks. “Whatever you say. Just know I’m all about guaranteed satisfaction.”

  Is that supposed to make me feel better? Turn me on? I don’t like that she’s messing around with all these guys and don’t really get why she keeps doing it. I saw her with Cannon Whittaker earlier. That dude loves to party. I’d bet money she left him satisfied.

  Shaking my head, I glare at her. “Lay off, Em,” I tell her gruffly.

  Em frowns. “Aw, what? I can’t talk about that kind of thing with you because Livvy will get mad? Are you guys really together now? Does that mean we can’t play around anymore?”

  I frown. We’ve never “played around” before. And I don’t like her making it sound like we have. “No, we’re not together, but we want to be.”

  “So why aren’t you?”

  “Because she’s leaving.”

  Em started to laugh. “She’s so dumb. I’d have you under lock and key if I was her.”

  Before I can say anything in Liv’s defense, Em turns and walks away, getting swallowed up by the crowd. I swear I hear her call out Cannon’s name and I glance around, wishing Livvy was standing by me. I could take her hand. Kiss her fingers. Reassure myself that what we have is real and it’s going to get even better once she returns home.

  It will.

  I know it.

  ****

  I published this on Monday night so y’all can read it bright and early Tuesday morning! What do you think? Ah, Dustin. I love him. I love all the boys in this story and guess what? There’s ANOTHER ONE you’ll meet in JUST FRIENDS, coming September 13th! In the meanwhile, don’t forget to vote/comment/share this story and add it to your reading list! Thank you so much for reading and for all the fun comments! They make me smile. 😄 💜

  Chapter 9 - Tuttle

  I chase after Amanda through the house, but she’s damn fast. She’s also been crying and seeing her like that when she ran out of one of the upstairs bedrooms, her face crumpled, the pain in her gaze, the tears streaming down her cheeks, it threw me for a fucking loop.

  Throwing me for a loop even more? I can’t find her.

  Everyone calls my name as I move through the crowds of people. They’re waving and smiling and desperate for my attention as they try and stop me. They all have something to say and I nod, extracting myself from their grip, their seeking gazes, their too bright smiles. I don’t
care what they have to say. All I can think about is Amanda.

  Where is she? What the hell did that asshole do to her anyway? I have no idea who this so-called boyfriend of hers is, but if I somehow find him, I’m probably going to beat the crap out of him for making her cry.

  “Tuttle!” I turn to find Lauren Mancini coming for me, her blonde ponytail bobbing like it does when she’s on the sidelines leading the cheers. She is the most popular girl in our class. Perfect on the outside, an epic mess on the inside. At least, that’s how she was that brief, shining moment when we were sort of a couple the beginning of our freshman year.

  Our relationship lasted about two weeks, if that.

  “Hey.” I offer her a chin nod. “What’s up?”

  Her eyes sparkling, she approaches slowly, followed by her friends, every single one of them cheerleaders. They all look the same, right down to the color of their hair, I swear. It’s hard to tell who’s who. “Thought I’d say hi,” she chirps. “Haven’t been to one of your parties in a long time.”

  That’s because she’d been dating some dude a year older than us who never wanted her out of his sight. Possessive and controlling, they finally broke up right before graduation because he didn’t want to be tied down before he left for college on a baseball scholarship.

  It’s disturbing I know these particular details, but somehow, I do.

  “Well, hi.” I briefly flick my gaze away from hers, ready to make my escape. “Gotta make my rounds. So see ya.”

  Lauren pouts. Whoever told her that was cute, lied. “Don’t leave. We haven’t talked in forever, Jordan. Come on. Fill me in. What’s going on with you?”

  My entire body tenses at her calling me by my first name. Does she really think I’m going to spill my guts while her friends surround her in the middle of a party? Please. “We have nothing to talk about,” I say tightly, noticing the flicker of hurt in her eyes. “I’ll see you later.”

  I leave before she can say anything else. It’s like I can feel her eyes boring holes into my back but I don’t care. I’m in hot pursuit of a certain weeping brunette.

  And I finally spot her in the kitchen.

  “Chug, chug, chug,” a group of people surrounding the kitchen island are chanting. One guy is holding a beer bong for the girl sprawled out across the island, her head tilted back as the beer spills into her open mouth.

  The girl is Amanda.

  Stunned, I’m frozen in place as I watch her polish off the beer with ease. She sits up, pushing her hair away from her face and beaming at the crowd as they applaud and cheer. Her scooped-neck shirt has fallen low, exposing the turquoise strap of her bra and the guy holding the beer bong leers at her chest, taking a step closer.

  This prompts me into action.

  “Okay, show’s over,” I yell as I approach the island. “Everyone move on. Nothing to see here.”

  A few of them grumble but for the most part they all shuffle out. Bong Boy lingers but I send him a look and he’s out. Leaving me alone with a buzzed Amanda still sitting on my kitchen island.

  “Hey, you.” She points at me, tilting her head to the side. This throws her off balance and she presses her other hand on the granite to keep her steady. “You own this house.”

  “Technically, my parents own this house.” I glance down. Her shorts are incredibly short, giving me a view of long, smooth legs. My fingers itch to touch her bare thigh. Her knee. But I restrain myself. Barely. Lifting my head, I meet her gaze once more. “You all right?”

  She squints at me, her finger still waving in the air. “Uh. Not really. That’s why I needed a drink. A few drinks. To help me forget, you know?”

  “Forget what?” I have no business asking. Knowing. She shouldn’t tell me anything.

  “Everything.” She smiles, her gaze hazy, her body swaying. “Oh!” She somehow pitches over and I hold out my arms, Amanda spilling into them. Wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees, I clutch her to me, pressing my face close to her hair so I can take a sniff.

  Yeah. Like I’m some sort of freaky pervert who gets off on the smell of girls’ hair. But Amanda’s hair smells pretty damn good.

  “You rescued me again.” She loops her arms around my neck, her fingers brushing against my nape. “You have a habit of doing that.”

  “You needed to be rescued.” I heft her up in my arms, holding her even closer as I start to move down the short hall just off the kitchen.

  “Where are you taking me?” She slides her fingers into my hair and my entire body goes tight. Just from her touching my hair.

  “Upstairs.” There’s a stairwell at the end of the hall hardly anyone knows about.

  She stiffens in my arms, her eyes wide as they meet mine. “I don’t want to go back up there.”

  “Why not?” She weighs nothing. She’s all legs and long dark hair, I swear. I sneak a couple of fingers beneath the hem of her shirt, touching bare skin, but it’s like she doesn’t notice. Which is good because basically I’m copping a feel.

  “Um well, they could still be upstairs. Doing whatever they were…doing.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust and it’s the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen.

  “They’re not.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” she points out.

  “I do. Trust me, they’re not up there.” I really don’t know, but I don’t want her to back out and try to get away from me. I just want to take her somewhere we can be alone. So I can watch over her and make sure she doesn’t make a fool of herself or hurt herself or-I grimace. What the hell is wrong with me? I feel like I’m turning into a rescuer like Cannon.

  “Fine,” she says, sounding reluctant. She won’t even look at me, though she keeps tickling my neck and it’s slowly driving me insane.

  I don’t get it, the way I feel every time I’m around her. She makes me nervous. She makes me-hell, I may as well just admit it. She makes me horny. Like I want to tear her clothes off and run my hands all over her body and kiss her until she’s a moaning, writhing mess.

  Yeah. That’s not normal. Not for me.

  But there’s something about Amanda. There always has been, for years even, and most of the time, I’ve fought it. Dismissed her from my mind. I’m pretty good at that. Dismissing people. Pretending they don’t exist.

  Tonight, I don’t want to dismiss her.

  So instead, I take her up to my room.

  The second I kick the door open she’s struggling against my hold, trying to get away from me.

  “You are so not bringing me to your room.”

  I clamp my arms tighter around her wiggling body and nudge the door closed behind me. “Calm down.”

  “Seriously, Tuttle. I refuse to become another one of your conquests.” She’s at least stopped moving, but she’s also glaring at me with narrowed eyes, her mouth drawn into a tight line.

  “Who said you were going to be one of my conquests?” I raise a brow and that one sentence effectively shuts her up.

  Kind of an asshole thing to say, but I need her to be calm, not trying to leap out of my arms.

  She says nothing as I approach the bed and carefully set her down so she’s sitting on the edge of the mattress. I take a step back, studying her. She looks around the room, her mouth slowly falling open, like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

  The room is huge. Every room in this stupid house is massive. My parents don’t understand subtlety or restraint. The more money they make, the bigger everything has to be.

  Which I get. And can even appreciate. But not right now. Amanda doesn’t appear impressed. More like appalled. Maybe even disgusted.

  “I could probably fit my entire house in this room,” she finally says, her voice soft.

  “I doubt that,” I say with a scoff.

  She lifts her head, her gaze meeting mine. “No, I’m serious. Do you get lost in this house or what?”

  I chuckle. “When we first moved in here, yeah. I did get lost.”

&nb
sp; The wary expression is gone, replaced by amusement. “You’re just saying that.”

  “It’s true. I was nine.”

  “I remember you when we were nine.”

  I was a punk ass bully when we were nine. Straight through to middle school I acted like an idiot. I finally straightened out in between seventh and eighth grade. Grew nine inches over the summer, discovered girls and learned quick they don’t like it when you’re mean to them.

  Well, meanness, they didn’t like. But indifference? That seemed to intrigue them even more.

  “I remember you too,” I tell her.

  She laughs, the sound going straight to my gut, making it twist. “I was such a dork.”

  “Yeah, you were.”

  The laughter dies but I still see the amusement glittering in her eyes. “You weren’t supposed to agree!”

  “Why not? It’s the truth. And I was a jerk.”

  “You were a jerk,” she says vehemently.

  I shrug. “I know.”

  We stare at each other, not saying anything. There’s no need to fill the space with words. I feel like our eyes, our bodies, our everything are quietly communicating.

  “You aren’t a jerk anymore,” she admits quietly.

  “You’re wrong.” I hesitate when I see the shock in her gaze. “I’m still a jerk.”

  The silence now feels like it’s strangling me. I’m about to turn away, leave her alone in my room so I can go outside and get some fresh air when she finally speaks.

  “You might be a jerk to other girls, but you never really are to me.”

  *****

  Ah, Tuttle and Amanda! I have reason to love them extra hard right now but I can’t share why yet so…stay tuned! Also, did you know you can read chapter one from JUST FRIENDS over on iBooks? You can! Here’s a link: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/justfriends/id1137297173?ls=1&mt=11

  Chapter 10 - Emily

  I finally make my escape from the hot tub, the boys, Cannon, the entire party, by finding a small bathroom. Slamming the door, I lean against it, closing my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I exhale slowly, hating how shaky I sound. I mentally tell myself to get it together, yet everything that just happened flashes through my mind, making me tremble even harder.