Mine to Have: A Claimed Story (5 page)

"
Y
ou're such an ass
," Jess blurts out. Her tone sounds angry, but her volume is still low.

I shrug with a smirk as I heave my backpack higher on my shoulder. As we step through the front doors of our high school, the onslaught of the warm Missouri sun causes me to squint my eyes. For a few steps I think about how to answer her, what to say. If she were a guy I'd have the perfect response. I'd say that I wasn't the ass, but Maura Sharpe had a fine ass and I'd fucked that too.

But Jess isn't a guy, and even though she's my best friend, I'm confident she doesn't want that much detail. I can see her in my imagination scrunching her cute little nose and after hitting me halfheartedly saying, 'Gross, TMI!'

Trying to avoid her manhandling—something I wouldn't take from anyone else—I start to reply when she purposely bumps her shoulder against mine, her tiny frame filled with enough hostility to almost bounce me from the sidewalk. I grin. So much for my attempt to avoid her physical aggression.

Catching my balance as car after car peels past, determined to leave the parking lot before the line begins to form at the stoplight, I stare down at her and with a gleam in my eyes, ask, "Are you trying kill me?"

Jess shakes her head. "Maura? Maura?" Each time she asks, echoing the name belonging to her friend and my latest fuck, her voice gets louder and the name more exaggerated.

I hit the unlock on my truck as Jess goes around to the passenger side.

Once we're both inside, I start the truck and immediately roll down the windows. Missouri weather has serious multiple-personality issues—freezing one day, sweltering the next. It’s like it has as much trouble as I do deciding what it wants.

Jess lifts her long blonde hair and directs the air conditioning vent in her direction.

"What do you want me to say?" I finally ask as I back out of the space, barely missing two girls walking with their heads together, too lost in their conversation to realize they're about to become road kill.

As my bumper moves in their direction, one of them turns toward me, but as soon as she recognizes my truck, her anger turns to a smile and her eyes search for mine in the side mirror.

"Hi Ashton," she calls with the telltale flick of her neck and a finger wave. "Call me."

I wave at the same time I see Jess's head shake in my peripheral vision. As I ease the truck into the line of traffic, I say a silent prayer that the girl won't try to come up to my open window.

Jess cranes her neck over her shoulder. "Isn't she a freshman?"

"Is she?"

"Jeeze, Ash. You really are a manwhore. You know that?"

I lift my brows. "No, Jess, I'm not a whore. Whores get paid. I willingly share my talents with those in need. I think that's called a humanitarian."

We finally make our way out of the parking lot and onto the side streets and with a little acceleration comes a nice breeze to cool the cab. Admittedly, it works better than my AC. But one day I won't be driving a beat-up old truck. One day, I'll have a car to go along with my body and personality.

"Maura's my friend," Jess says.

"Maura's a big girl. She knew what she was doing. Actually, she knew—"

Jess lifts her hand. "Stop. You know our deal. No details. I don't want to know about the little freshman or Maura."

"Well, let me just say that Maura is much more experienced."

"Noted. But you know she just broke up with Matt. The last thing she needs is you using her for a one-night stand."

I reach over and squeeze Jess's leg. "You know me. I don't use girls. They come to me."

"Because you're so freaking fantastic in the sack?"

My cheek rises, creating my signature cocky, lopsided grin. "That
is
the word on the street."

She sighs and lays her head against the seat. "Is that all you want?"

I look over at my best friend. There's something about Jess that makes her different than every other girl I've ever known. Maybe it's that we've known each other since we were kids. Maybe it's that we know everything about one another. Maybe it's that we swore never to lie to one other, and we haven't. I'm not sure of the reason, but for the first time since I was balls deep in Maura Sharpe, I feel a little bad about it.

Which is strange.

I never feel regret.

Euphoria, a fucking fantastic release as my dick explodes and some pussy squeezes it tight, yes, but never regret.

"Jess, what is it?"

She turns toward the open window, her hair blowing in the breeze and takes a minute before she answers. "I think it's that we're graduating in a few weeks. We're going off to college and we have friends getting married."

"We also have friends with kids on the way. Do you want that to be you?"

Jess looks at me for a minute and then turns back to the open window. "Someday."

"Someday, but not now. Not at eighteen."

After a sigh, she leans back against the seat. In the few seconds that passed, her fun smile, the one that has gotten us both in trouble more times than I can count is back. "Then Mr. Michaels, keep your cock in your pants."

"Don't worry. I have a lifetime supply of wraps. I'm well practiced at safe sex."

"It's just that Maura has been texting me all day. She's sure she's 'in love'. And by the way, 'you're the best.'" Her voice does this sing-song thing when she relays Maura's messages.

"Oh, I am
the best
, but
love
? No way." I shake my head. "I told her the same thing I tell them all: I'm not a commitment kind of guy."

"She mentioned that," Jess says. "She also asked me what your favorite color is. Your favorite food. Your favorite TV show...on and on. She's got it bad."

I bypass our neighborhood and keep driving. It's easier walking away from someone if there's no connection. I should have followed my gut and told Maura no. I should have realized that her friendship with Jess would be an issue. But I swear, Maura wouldn't take no for an answer, and well, my dick wasn't saying no.

"Where are we going?" Jess asks.

"How about coffee?"

She shakes her head. "No, I'm broke."

"I'll buy." I offer, but we both know I don’t have much money either.

"No. How about the lake? It's a beautiful afternoon."

I nod, taking in the bright blue sky.

A few minutes and a few dirt roads later, I park and turn off my truck. The lake isn't big and it's kind of hidden away. It's owned by some guy who doesn't even live close by. The old gate at the end of the lane that is supposed to keep people out has been permanently removed from its rusty hinges.

Now it's one of the places teenagers in our town go. It's not just teenagers. Dads bring their kids here to fish and families even come to swim. It's too early in the year to swim. The water would be freezing.

I lead as we walk the edge of the lake, up some high rocks. It's the perfect spot. From up here you can see down into the depths of the dark water and over to the lane. No one can sneak up on you here. You can see everything, like being on the top of the world.

"Truth or dare," I say.

Jess sways her shoulders back and forth as she contemplates my question. "Truth, you know I'd never lie to you."

"Are you still holding out?"

She smiles with her eyes gazing down. "Do you mean have I put out yet?"

"I mean, has Todd gotten in your pants yet?"

"Those are two different questions. Pick one."

My chest aches a little at the thought of that dick with his hands down Jess's shorts. But I remind myself that she's my friend. I have no right to expect her to stay a virgin when I'm fucking every other girl out there. "First one."

"I am, but I don't think it can last much longer."

I stand taller. "Jess, if that ass is pressuring you..."

"That’s not what I mean. I mean, I think I want to. I just don't know if he's the forever kind of guy."

"Your turn," I say as I peer down. The water is easily twenty feet below us. In the summer there were many times we'd jumped from here into the cool spring-fed lake below.

"OK. Truth or dare?"

I look up at her sparkling green eyes and realize that she's seeing the same thing—the water. I can practically see her think about jumping or making me jump. It's not that I don't want to. If it were summer and twenty degrees warmer, I wouldn't hesitate, but well, my better sense says, "Truth."

"Do you think you'll ever be a forever kind of guy?"

Shit!
That wasn't what I expected.

I sigh as I lower myself to the warm rock and stretch out my legs. "I really don't see it. I don't see me being committed to anyone but myself. That makes me sound like an ass, and I probably am, but forever is a really long time."

Jess nods as she sits beside me. "What if I never find that forever guy?"

I reach out and squeeze her hand. "You will, but if you don't, you'll always have me."

"Always?"

"Always."

"
N
o
, no..." Jess's words trail away as she shakes her head.

The whiskey burns as I take a long sip. It doesn't dull her pain, but it helps calm my rage at her no-good asshole ex. Even half-wasted, she's adorable. I love the way her long, wavy hair becomes curly in the summer's heat. She hates it. She always has, but I can't stop myself from reaching out and tweaking a long blonde curl, just to watch it bounce.

"Stop it!" she says, pulling away and laying her head against my sofa.

Her eyes half close and the glass of wine in her hand tips one way and then the other.

"Jess, let me take that," I offer as I reach for the wine.

Her grip on the long stem tightens.

"No. I'm going to drink this wine. I'm going to drink all"—her arms fly open wide as I capture the glass once more. This time I grab it as the liquid sloshes and just before my light brown leather sofa has a nice red stain—"the wine you have." Her plump lips purse and change to a pout when she realizes the glass is gone. "Fine, take the glass, only because I know you're going to refill it for me. Aren't you, Ash? You wouldn't let me stay sober, not after..."

Her words trail away and a tear falls from the corner of one of her green eyes.

"He's not worth it." It's the same thing I've told her fifty times since she got to my apartment. "He's not worth the wine or the headache you're going to have in the morning. He's a slime. A douche. An asshole. And coming from one asshole, I know assholes. I never did know what you saw in him anyway."

Her arms cross over her tits, not in anger, but in the way she does to protect herself, shield herself from everyone else.

Placing my whiskey and her wine on the end table, I tug on one of her hands and shine my cockiest grin. "Besides, wouldn't you rather be here with me than with him?"

I've grabbed her left hand. I hadn't meant to. It was just the closest. We both look down at her empty ring finger. Just a few hours ago it had been wearing a diamond engagement ring.

Jess pulls her hand back and her words slur. "We were fucking supposed to be married!"

No longer sad, she springs up from the couch. In only a moment, she changes from jilted fiancée to the Jess I've known most of my life, the one who threatened to kick my ass when we first met at five years old, the one who wouldn't let some asshole walk all over her, and the one who's been my best friend for the last twenty-three years. Finally pulling herself out of her wine-induced funk, she staggers as she says, "In three weeks!" She holds up three fingers, narrows her eyes as she concentrates on them and then repeats, "Three!

"Holy shit," she continues, "do know how much money my parents are spending on this wedding? Have spent? As in, can't get it back? Fuck! My mom. Oh my God, my mom is going to have a coronary. And my dad, holy fuck, Ash, he may never recover."

I stand ready to catch her if she wobbles again.

With her green eyes glistening, Jess stares up at me, silently demanding an answer.

"I don't know how much they've spent. But I do know they hated his guts."

"No they didn't," she answers defensively. "They loved him. Everybody"—she elongates the word—"loves Jack. Jack and Jess. Jess and Jack. The perfect fucking couple."

"Jack, the asshole who fucked some other woman in your bed." I shake my head. "Your dad would have voted him off the island a long time ago."

Her dad has this obsession with reality TV. That and zombies. If there were a reality zombie show, he'd be set for life, or the apocalypse. And then, after years of watching
Survivor
and
The Walking Dead
, I'd definitely want him on my team. I already have him programmed in my phone, for phone-a-friend, just in case. According to her dad, Paul, you should always be prepared.

Jess takes a deep breath. "No, he wouldn't. Dad was thrilled that I was marrying Jack. And well, no one knows about that other woman thing—no one but you and of course Jack and her." She nods her head. "Yep, that's everyone. Hell, they were so into it, I doubt they even know I was there."

I run my hands over her arms, up and down. "You should have grabbed a lamp and cocked them both upside the head."

A smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "That's why I love you. Violence is always your first thought."

I shrug. "Usually fucking is my first thought. But...well, that was already happening."

She playfully hits my shoulder. "Thanks for the reminder."

"Ouch! Be violent with Jack, not with me."

As I wrap my arms around my best friend, she falls against my chest. The scent of strawberries tickles my nose, and I take a deeper breath. For just a second, Jess seems to relax and melt against me. Our friendship has seen it all. We know each other's deepest, darkest secrets and we're still here—through childhood, our teens, college, and now. Always.

The one thing we haven't done, not ever, is move beyond friendship. It is our agreement, the one we made when we were young. Never would we cross that line.

That was easy when we were running around the neighborhood or swimming in the lake. Then it was like we were brother and sister, but sometimes now I wonder what it would be like to be with her, inside of her, loving her.

But then I remember our agreement.

No matter how fucking beautiful she has become, or fun, or happy, or sad, we are friends and we can't jeopardize that. If we did, I'm sure I could help her forget that asshole, if we crossed that line, but her friendship is worth more than keeping my dick happy.

It isn't like my dick is sad. It gets plenty of action. I've taken many women places they didn't know they could go, all in the name of forgetting some asshole who wronged them. But that wouldn't be how I help Jess.

'No, sorry, boy,' I say silently to my dick, 'you're staying put.'

Earlier tonight, when I got Jess's hysterical call, I was on my way to a date and my dick was happy. The
date
was just drinks and supposed to be with some chick from the gym. We've talked a few times. Her name starts with K or a C. I can't remember. It's like Kate or Catalin. All I know for sure is that she has great tits and a nice ass. And when she invited me to drinks, I didn't think about saying no. I also didn't get her number.

Now I'm the douche who stood her up. Remembering her body, they way her tits bounce when she runs on the treadmill, I'm most certain that she won't be alone for long. And since I can't remember her name, I'm not too brokenhearted. My dick, well, he's a little put out.

I reassure my lonely dick that the next time I see Miss Tits and Ass at the gym, all I'll need to do is flash my baby blues, wipe the sweat from my forehead with my shirt, showing off my tight abs, and claim that a heartbroken friend kept me away. Then I'll ask if we can reschedule. Ten to one says she doesn't hold a grudge for long.

What's sexier than a good-looking successful guy who went to a friend's recue?

'Don't worry, boy, you'll be balls deep in that chick before the end of the week. Tonight's about Jess.' My dick and I both agree that she's the only one we'd make the sacrifice for.

Besides, the chick from the gym gives off the same vibe I do. She's not looking for anything other than some fun and a good fuck. Those are my goals, too, but the order of significance is most usually reversed.

Jess and I have always had different life goals. Not for hard work or dedication—we both kick ass at that. We've worked hard and it’s paid off. We both have great jobs. My old truck is now a sleek black sports car. My apartment is in the best chic part of St. Louis. She has it all too, or did, before her recent engagement ended. Nevertheless, she has the great job and the apartment she was sharing with Jack Dickhead is in her name. In most ways, we're both living the dream.

It's just that our dreams for a relationship—a forever, until I die thing—have always been different.

Jess has been searching for that for as long as I can remember, while I've been content with right now. And believe me, there are plenty of right nows everywhere I look. She'd thought she'd found it, her forever. Unfortunately, Jess's forever just fucked his coworker—in her bed.

"Hey, how about I order some dinner," I offer. "I can have sushi here in twenty minutes?"

Jess sighs against my chest. "I deserve better." Her voice is soft, but determined.

"You sure as hell do. Maybe pizza?"

"No," she tips her chin upward until our eyes met. "Jerkface, not food. I deserve to be happy."

That's my girl.

"And sushi is the perfect start."

I suck in a breath as she reaches down, awakening my dick, purposely rubbing my jeans.

"What are you doing?" Though I’m asking the question, my dick knows the drill.

Jess blinks her eyes. Her tears have dried, and her damn green eyes are filled with something I've never seen before, not from her. Her cheeks rise as her pink tongue darts out to her lip and then disappears. "I think I have a better idea than food, something that will make me feel better."