One Night (Friends #0.5) (3 page)

“You think?” He flexes for her and she pets his biceps, looking properly impressed.

Shaking my head, I get the hell out of there before they try to stop me.

*

Ah, Tuttle. I have such mad love for him, even if he is a jerk. ;) Hope you enjoyed this chapter - more is coming soon! And if you’re so inclined to vote/comment/share,
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I feel anxious. Edgy. Needy. Not that anyone seems to care. It’s like everyone is ignoring me. But I’m on a mission-I’m looking to hook up tonight. There’s no denying it, no denying me, because when I need to be, I’m a persistent bitch.

So Dustin shot me down. So what? He’ll be easy to break once Livvy’s gone for the rest of the summer, bored out of her mind at her dad’s house. He’ll be putty in my hands within a few days of her leaving. I can almost guarantee it.

That he doesn’t see I’ve been right there in front of him all of these years is frustrating. Dustin treats me like a friend. That’s it. He might get a little flirty, but not much. He’s too busy making eyes at Livvy, who doesn’t seem that into him at all. He’s totally missing out.

And then there’s Tuttle. He’s impossible. I mean, I know he messes around with girls. I’ve heard plenty of rumors, though they all say the same thing-he’ll let them suck his dick, but that’s about it. He’s super selective-oh, and he’s also a selfish bastard. That’s what makes him even hotter. He’s so ridiculously gorgeous. And he acts like lord of the manor at his big fancy house with that snotty look on his perfect face. God, I hate him.

I also want to get naked with him. At the very least, give him a BJ. But he never gives me a chance. He just literally shoved me onto Cannon Whittaker, who is undeniably hot, I’m not going to lie. But he’s not really my type. He’s just so big and muscly and…big.

Yes. I’m repeating myself. But the boy’s bigness warrants repeating.

“You like the guns?” Like he’s reading my mind, Cannon lifts his arms into the typical check out my muscles pose, his biceps popping. Making my eyes pop too because wow, he’s nothing but solid muscle.

“Guns?” I briefly trail my fingers over his left arm. It’s like touching warm steel.

“Yeah. They’re weapons.” He lifts his left arm to kiss his bicep and does the same to the right. It’s a totally cheesy move, and I’m wondering exactly how many girls has this worked on. “Weapons of mass destruction,” he tells me, his voice deadly serious.

“Are you for real right now?” I giggle. My head is spinning a little from the shots I did earlier when I first got here. I smoked a joint in the garage before I left my house just to take the edge off, but the weed only made me anxious. Mom and Dad were inside, but I really didn’t care. My parents are such pushovers. For example, my grades were crap so they took my car away, but I knew I’d get it back. I always get my way eventually.

They caved within a few days after taking the car away. The trick? Drive them bat shit crazy. I was such a nuisance, such a pain in the butt, always whining and stomping around the house and huffing and puffing like it was the end of the world. They absolutely hated how I was acting and finally broke down, giving me back my keys with all these conditions put on me.

Whatever.

I know how to push their buttons. Just like I know how to push Livvy’s and Dustin’s too. People are so easy to manipulate.

I almost feel sorry for them.

“You want something to drink?” Cannon flicks his head toward the kitchen and I nod, following him until we end up standing in front of the giant ice chest full of beer sitting on the floor near the fridge. He bends over and grabs a can, giving me a prime view of his muscular backside. I catch a glimpse of his underwear when his shorts fall with the movement.

Cannon wears black Calvins. Good to know.

He pops the beer open before handing it to me, a sweet smile curling his very sexy lips. I take the icy cold beer gratefully and drain almost half the can, catching Cannon watching me with frank admiration in his gaze.

“You don’t hold back, do you?” he asks, sounding dazed.

Shaking my head, I lick my lips, his gaze locked on the movement of my tongue. I almost want to laugh. Guys are so easy. So simple. Cannon is no different. “What you see is what you get,” I tell him.

His brows shoot up. “And what do I get?”

I step closer, resting my hand on his forearm, his skin hot beneath my fingers. “Whatever you want,” I murmur, my lips curving into a little smile when his eyes widen with surprise.

“Em! There you are.”

Oh. Crap. Bracing myself, I turn to face my very best friend, the girl who knows almost all of my secrets. “Livvy,” I say, my voice weak. “I didn’t know I was lost.”

“Well, I just saw you, but you kept on walking.”

“I was with Tuttle.” My voice lowers and I flick my head back toward Cannon. She’s going to ruin everything if she doesn’t shut up. “Why aren’t you with Dustin?” Oh man, I sound kind of snotty, but I really don’t care.

Livvy frowns. “Why would I be with Dustin?”

“I don’t know. Because you two can’t seem to stay away from each other?” I do my best to keep the jealousy out of my voice, but by the way she’s looking at me, I think she’s catching on.

I’ve never admitted it to either of them, but I’m jealous of their relationship. I know they’re just friends but they also mess around with each other. And then they have the nerve to keep it from me. Like it’s their special little secret. When it comes to the three of us, I’m always on the outside looking in, and what’s worse? They deny they’re doing anything whenever I ask them. He denies it. She denies it.

They’re liars.

“You act like we’re together. But we are so not,” Livvy says vehemently. The look of faint horror on her face says it all. Does she really not want to be with Dustin? I don’t get why not. He’s a good guy. He’s her supposed best friend, besides me. Dustin is a great basketball player, he’s smart and funny and cute. Fine, hot. He’s hot. She’s stupid.

But then again, so is he.

“Whatever.” I flick my fingers at her, dismissing the conversation. It’s pointless. We’ll just go round and round. I have better things to do.

Like Cannon Whittaker.

“Who’s your friend?” Cannon asks, blatantly checking out Liv.

Ugh. No way am I going to let him go tonight. He’s my only real prospect. “It’s just Livvy,” I tell him, my voice sweet as sugar as I wind my arm through his. I don’t bother looking at her. Maybe she’ll catch a clue and leave us alone. “Let’s go outside and check out the hot tub.”

That’s code for us going into the hot tub so we can feel each other up beneath the bubbling water. People grope each other in Tuttle’s hot tub all the time. It doesn’t matter how many people are in there either. It’s like a free for all, which is sort of gross when you think about it.

I seriously hope he dumps a ton of chlorine in there after his parties. Bleach would probably be better.

“You need a good soak?” Cannon asks, grinning as we start toward the door that leads to the backyard.

“I think we both do,” I say with a smile.

“Em! Seriously, are you going to just leave me?”

I glance over my shoulder, taking in the incredulous expression on my friend’s face. Livvy’s mouth is hanging open like she can’t believe I’d ditch her for a guy.

Doesn’t she know me by now?

We’ve grown apart this past year. I can feel it. She has to feel it. Things haven’t been the same between us since the end of last year, and I’m cool with that. But it’s like she doesn’t want to make waves.

Well, I’m sick and tired of remaining stagnant. Life isn’t going to just pass me by. I’m gonna grab it by the balls every chance I get.

And if that means grabbing Cannon’s balls tonight, then so be it. I’m up for the challenge.

Though truthfully? I’m guessing Cannon won’t be a challenge at all.

“Go find Dustin,” I say, my voice loud enough for everyone standing around to hear me. “I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to keep you company tonight.”

The hurt look on her face says it all. I’m the total bitch best friend.

May as well own it.

Without a word she turns on her heel and heads the other way. I watch her go, tempted to run after her but I remain where I stand.

Cannon whistles low as he leads me out to the backyard, my arm still curled through his. “You’re cutthroat,” he says, almost admiringly.

I shrug, smiling up at him. “Don’t worry about her. She understands.”

He smiles in return. “You got a swimsuit on underneath your clothes?”

My smile turns coy. “Maybe.”

“Might have to strip you naked before you get in that hot tub, huh? Is that what you’re telling me?” he asks, his voice hopeful.

In his dreams. I don’t answer him.

A little mystery never hurt anyone.

*

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This girl is ready for action and I’m ready to give it. I’ve heard the stories about Emily, especially these last few months. She likes to party. Get her wasted and she falls to her knees in an instant. Though I’m not looking for that-don’t laugh. It’s true. I won’t turn down a blowjob or a hand job or whatever, but what I’ve really been looking for lately is…

A connection.

Sounds sappy. All my friends would tell me I’ve lost my balls and become a complete pussy, but whatever. What the hell do they know about relationships? Nothing, that’s what. And I’m not necessarily seeking a relationship-I’d probably freak out if I found myself in one-but I am looking for something more than a casual hook up at a party.

I want someone I can literally Netflix and chill with. I want someone who’ll come watch me play ball and wear my jersey. Yell my name as loud as she can from the stands when I go running by, and who’ll congratulate me for a spectacular win with a big, fat kiss. Someone I can make out with whenever I want.

Yeah. Perfect. I want that.

“Cannon.” Em draws my name out, all the n’s slurring together. Girl’s been drinking a lot more than I thought. Probably stoned too. “Watch me.”

I do, crossing my arms in front of my chest as she awkwardly strips out of her clothes, revealing that yep, she’s wearing a red bikini. But it’s tiny, the triangle top barely covering her tits, and the bottoms are so small I’m guessing she waxes pretty much everything.

“Tricked ya,” she says as she saunters toward me, her hips swaying. A few guys that are nearby cheer her on and she beams, clearly loving the attention.

This girl is a wreck.

I bet I could rescue her.

“How’d you trick me?” I ask when she stops directly in front of me, her hands going to my chest. They funnel beneath my T-shirt, touching my bare skin and I shiver at her aggressive touch.

“You hoped I’d have to skinny dip.” She cocks her hip, resting her hand there. “Look at me in my bikini.”

“You could still skinny dip. If you want.” I smile when she laughs, enjoying the sound. I shouldn’t encourage her. She’d probably whip those little scraps of fabric off so fast my head would spin.

“Nah. A girl’s gotta have some mystery.” She pushes away from me and heads for the hot tub. My gaze locks on her butt, appreciating the way her cheeks are on display, the sexy sway of her hips.

Girl’s got a tight ass, I’ll give her that.

“Well, I hate to disappoint you,” I say as I follow after her. “But I’m not wearing swim trunks. Didn’t bring any either.”

Em twirls around, her mouth dropping open in shock. “Cannon.”

“What?” I ask innocently, enjoying the way her gaze roves over me, like she’s trying to take me all in.

And there’s a lot to take in. I’m not a small guy. She’s not a big girl. I’d probably smash her if we did it missionary style. We’d probably work out better if she were on top.

Just like that, my head is filled with all sorts of images, the majority of them featuring Em bouncing on top of me with her tits in my face.

Damn. I need to calm down before I pop a tent in my pants.

“Are you going to skinny dip?” Her brows go up.

“Naw. I got underwear on.”

“So I’ll get to check you out in your Calvins?”

My cheeks go warm. “How’d you know I was wearing Calvin Klein underwear?” I’m freaking embarrassed, which is the stupidest thing ever. I’m trying to impress this girl and act like a sex god, but I’m getting tripped up over the underwear mention.

“I saw them when you grabbed me a beer.” She makes a cute little face. “Another beer sounds good right about now.”

“No.” I shake my head. “No more beer for you.” I mean it. I don’t like sloppy drunks. And I definitely don’t take advantage of drunk girls. That’s not cool. “Now turn around.”

“What? You’re not going to let me watch you strip?” She looks extremely disappointed, which works wonders for my ego.

“Nope. A guy’s got to have a little mystery.” I throw her words back in her face and she laughs again. I really like it when she laughs. It lights up her whole face and she doesn’t look so…troubled.

Why do I have such a soft spot for the troubled girl? I always have. They’re a weakness of mine. I’m a rescuer. Maybe because my mom has needed to be rescued ever since I was a little kid with her constant bad choices. Made me want to take care of her in any way I could.

But I never got the chance. She’d always let some other asshole take care of her-and they rarely did a good job. So I watched over my little sister, making sure she did her homework, that she was fed, that she went to bed at a decent hour. Though lately she’s avoiding me, barely looking me in the eye when we talk. I think it’s because she’s up to no good.