More Than Him (28 page)

I looked at Amanda. She just smiled and nodded her head. "Have you had this before?"

She shook her head and raised the car keys. "Designated driver, remember?"

Ethan made a huffing sound. "Just drink it, asshole," he teased. "What? Did you turn into a pussy the year you were gone?"

I took a swig. It tasted like gasoline. My face contorted.

Ethan laughed.

And that's how it went.

Apparently, the rules of mini golf were this: For every putt, you drink. That's it. After the third hole, I could barely feel the soreness in my body. "This shit's better than painkillers," I announced loudly.

Amanda snorted with laughter.

"Yeah, buddy!" Ethan yelled, then put his putter between his legs and started humping it.

"Oh my God," Amanda muttered next to me. "You're so mature."

He winked at her, right before Tristan mimicked his actions. So there they were, side by side, humping their putters. Amanda's laugh bubbled out of her. I loved hearing her laugh. I turned around and kissed her, probably longer, and deeper than what's publicly acceptable.

"Get a room," some dick yelled.

Then Lexi spoke up, "Fuck off, asshole. They've been apart for a year. Let them make out."

"Dude, that's my sister." Ethan made a disgusted sound.

"Could be worse," Tristan stated. "At least it's not Alexis again."

We pulled apart from the kiss, but not each other. My hands gripped her waist, her hands fisted into my shirt. "Does he know?" I whispered.

"I don't know," she whispered back.

Then we slowly, and simultaneously, turned to face Ethan.

He smirked, sauntered over to Lexi and put his arm around her shoulders. "Luckily, she's moved on to
bigger
and better things.

***

By the tenth hole, we were plastered. Beyond wasted. I couldn't feel my body, let alone how sore it could be. Everything was numb. Amanda had to hold me up. "It wears off real quick," Amanda told me.

"I just want to make out with you all the time."

"What?" She laughed.

"Your ass."

She laughed again. "You're not making much sense, babe."

I shrugged as we watched Tristan take his eleventy-third shot, all whilst Ethan and Alexis pointed and laughed at him. Then I felt her hand curl around my arm, and all of a sudden I was being dragged away. She took me to a spot hidden by a palm tree and a mini windmill. "Oooh, I like your thinking," I told her. She pressed her body lightly against mine and tilted her head to the side, allowing me access to start kissing her neck. Her fingers curled into my hair.

"I'm sorry." She sighed. "I feel bad, like I should be really pissed at Ethan for what he did to you, not be out here laughing and hanging out with him he hasn't even said sorry yet."

"It's fine." I sucked lightly on her shoulder. "It could be worse. He could've just beaten the shit out of me and forbid us to see each other."

She snorted. "Forbid? What is this? The eighteen hundreds? Besides, you really think anyone can stop us from seeing each other?"

I pulled back and watched as her face searched mine, waiting for an answer. I wanted to tell her that they could. That I respected Ethan enough that if he said we couldn't, then I wouldn't. But I couldn't lie to her. "Truth?"

"No," she answered. "Lie to me."

"I don't think anything, or anyone, is ever going to keep me away from you. I love you way too much. You're my heart, my world,
my light.
"

***

Amanda was right. Whatever Ethan had in the flask was killer, but it did wear off quick enough. By the time we'd gotten home, my body was still numb, but my mind was sobering up. It was the same for all of us, which meant only one thing.

Beers in the backyard.

The girls stayed inside, something about catching up on TV. I heard them giggling about some guy who got cast in that
Fifty Shades
movie. Whatever.

Half an hour later, we were a mess again.

"I can't believe the shit Amanda said last night." Ethan's cap was pulled low on his head as he eyed the night sky.

"What part?" Tristan asked.

I sat up and waited for Ethan to speak.

"That shit—you know, how she blames herself for what happened that night."

I kicked my legs out in front of me. "I know, right? Like it's anyone's fault but mine."

"Psshh," he replied. "Dude, it's not your fault, either."

My eyes narrowed at him. "How is it not—"

"You know what I think?" Tristan cut in, putting his finger up in the air like he was preparing to enlighten us with a piece of wisdom. "I think it's human nature to blame yourself. When things fuck up in life, you always want to find a reason for it. There
has
to be a reason, right? Bad things don't just happen, especially to good people.

"So we sit around and try to make sense of it all, and the only sense we can make is that we probably deserved it, so we make up these ideas in our heads." He linked his fingers behind his head and stretched out. "Like, maybe if I didn't eat that cookie when we were thirteen that caused your best friends to fight for months, then maybe I wouldn't have turned out gay." I didn't miss the knowing look he gave Ethan before continuing. "Like that night—for months I blamed myself, too."

"What?" Ethan asked.

I just sat there and let his words sink in.

"Yeah, remember how I asked the cab driver to pull over so I could take a piss? What would've happened if I didn't? Maybe we would've got here on time, maybe the same time as them. It could've all been prevented."

"That's stupid," I said.

He shrugged. "About as stupid as you thinking that you being related to assholes is your fault."

"Agreed." Ethan raised his beer.

"Wait." I turned to Ethan. "You don't think it's my fault? The shit that happened that night? You're pissed at me. There must be a part of you that blames me."

He shook his head and looked me like I was stupid. "I never blamed you for that night. I'm pissed because you left. I mean—I'm sure you have your reasons, but to me—you took the pussy way out. It's not just that you left Amanda, but you and me—we were friends, we were housemates, we saw each other every day. When you left her, you left me, too.

"And it's not just about me having to take care of her, dealing with her crying about missing you, or her being scared or whatever. I'm pissed at you because you should've been there, too. You should've been the one to help her heal. I didn't know what to do half the time. And I was bitter as fuck because I knew you'd know what to do. You always knew what to do with her. Fuck's sake, you got her to quit being afraid of the rain. I'd been trying for years, and then you show up and make it all better. You could've made it all better for her, and I didn't know how to. That's why I was pissed.

"Then one day I open the mailbox, and there's a letter from you—and I could tell straight away, just from the look on her face, that she was still in love with you. That pissed me off more. And then you come back and she just forgives you, like she forgot all the shit you put her through . . . but I get it now. Lexi talked to me about it last night. Dimmy—she doesn't see it that way. She doesn't blame you for any of it—even the leaving part. And I get it. She remembers things differently. While I was trying to get her to stop crying from missing you—she was doing exactly that—just missing you. When I thought she was having nightmares about what those assholes did to her—truth is—she was dreaming about what they did to
you
. We experienced things differently. She's crazy, stupid in love with you, and I wouldn't have understood it, not until I started dating Lexi. Now I'm crazy, stupid in love with her, and it all kind of makes sense."

I stayed silent, replaying his words verbatim in my mind. I looked into the house to where Amanda was in her Hello Kitty pajamas, laughing with Lexi. I turned back to Ethan and opened my mouth to speak, but his hand in the air stopped me. "You don't need to say anything. I get it."

I'm glad he said that, because I had no idea what I was about to say.

Tristan sighed, his body slumping further down in his chair. "You guys are making me want to turn straight."

We laughed quietly.

"You think it's funny. If I could get girls like Dimmy and Lexi, I probably would."

Ethan sat up now, paying full attention to his best friend. "I'm sure there are plenty of guys interested in you."

Tristan raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," Ethan conceded. "I really don't know shit about your love life. Is that weird? Do you want me to ask you about it? I mean . . ." He shrugged. "I just don't know how open you want to be about it all."

The living room door slid open and Amanda stuck her head out. "You guys coming to bed?"

"Yeah, in a minute," we said in unison, then laughed.

Lexi snorted. "It's like we're nagging housewives and they're forty."

They closed the door, and Tristan continued. "I wish I was straight."

"Don't be gay," Ethan joked. "You can't choose that shit."

Tristan belched. "I know. But sometimes I'll be sitting on the sofa and Amanda will walk in, in her tight gym shorts and her sports bra, and her goddamn perfect ass—"

"Whoa," I said, at the same time as Ethan said, "Gross, dude."

Tristan laughed. "Just bear with me here. I'm trying to prove a point." His eyes were half closed, the alcohol clearly affecting him. "So she walks in wearing barely anything with this killer body, and I look down at my dick," he lowers his head to look down at his junk, ". . . and I stare at it, thinking,
just get hard, just once, if she can't do it for you . . . then there's no hope
."

By now, I've started laughing.

He kept on, getting more animated. "I'm like,
Come on, kid!"
he shouted. "
Get. Hard
." He got louder. "GET A FUCKING HARD-ON!" He was screaming now. Ethan was on the ground laughing. I held my ribs, trying to ease the pain. The image of a twenty-two-year-old jock like Tristan yelling at his dick to get hard was just too fucking much.

"I'LL GIVE YOU A DOLLAR! JUST GIVE ME A BONER!"

***

I was still laughing when I got into bed with Amanda.

"What's funny?"

I shook my head, containing my laugh.

"What?" she asked through a smile.

"Just Tristan—trying to get hard when he looks at your ass."

"What?" she squealed.

"Nothing, babe." I was still buzzed. "I can't even explain it right now."

She didn't press further, just pulled the sheets up to her chin and got more comfortable.

"You didn't take your Xanax again."

I shrugged. "I'm fine, babe, honestly."

She scooted closer, resting her head on my chest. "Will it hurt if I hug you?"

"Not sure, try it."

She did. "Does it hurt?"

"No." Lie.

"What did you and Ethan talk about?"

"A lot of stuff."

She kissed my chest once. My fingers played with her hair. "Are you going to tell me, or is it some kind of guy code or something?"

"It's not a guy code, it's just something between me and Ethan, and I think I'd prefer it to stay that way."

"Okay," she said suspiciously.

"It's nothing bad. You just mean a lot to both of us, that's all."

She sighed. "So are things going to be okay with you two? And with us?"

"Yes." Truth.

31

Logan

I waited for her at the bar while she finished up her shift. We'd spent every spare second together since the blow up at her house. That was a week ago.

"All done." She untied her apron and threw it in the air dramatically. "I have the weekend off and I'm going to spend every single second of it attached to you, and you better not complain." She pointed her finger at me with her lips pursed. As if I'd ever complain about that.

"Shit," I teased. "I kind of planned on seeing my other girlfriends at some point."

She gasped in mock horror. "Well," she said, her nose up in the air as she made her way to the exit. I watched her ass as she did. "You better tell them to go easy on you. You should be healed well enough to let me do . . ." She spun around and started walking backwards. ". . . some really, dirty, dirty things to you."

I grunted.

Legit, grunted.

I quickened my pace to catch up to her. "What kind of dirty things?" I asked, putting my arm around her and bending low so only she could hear.

She shrugged. "I dunno," she said, then pinched my ear. Hard. "Tell me again about these so-called other girlfriends?"

I pulled back, laughing. She let go of my ear. "I love when you get jealous. It's such a fucking turn on."

We got to my truck and I opened the door for her. She turned around to face me before getting in. "Seriously, how sore are you?" She pulled at my shirt until my chest touched hers.

I shook my head. "Not sore at all."

She wet her lips with fire in her eyes.

I drove home, completely distracted by her hand on my dick.

We were there no longer than a minute before our clothes were off and I was inside her. We had to go slow. I’d lied. I was still a little sore.

***

"Does Micky need me to bring anything tomorrow?"

"No." I spoke into my pillow. I was half asleep when I turned my head in her direction. "I don't even know what it is. I hope it's just the gang, you know?"

She moved in closer so we shared the pillow and her nose touched mine. "It's a good reason to celebrate, though. You being home and all."

I couldn't help the smile that formed. "Yeah? You know what else is a good reason to celebrate?"

"What?"

I put my arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "You."

"Me?"

"Yup. Just you. I love you, Amanda."