Sucker Punched (16 page)

Even though—technically—you can’t get much friendlier than having sex with someone. Just sayin’.

“You need any help unpacking?”

I nearly piss my pants at the sound of Blake’s voice. I’d been so wrapped up in the drama unfolding on my newly hooked-up TV that I didn’t notice him leaning against my doorframe.

I scramble to find the remote among the piles of folded clothes sitting on my bed. “I think I’m good.”

Crap TV is one of my guilty pleasures. One of my
secret
guilty pleasures. I definitely don’t want Blake to know I watch this shit.

He frowns as the girl onscreen starts hurling obscenities at her boyfriend. It quickly goes to commercial break, but not before flashing its logo.

“
Teen Mom 2?
” he asks disdainfully. “Seriously, Macy?”

I finally find the remote and back out to the Hulu home screen. I jut my chin out defiantly, even though I’m mortified he caught me watching this. “I’m not proud of it.”

He chuckles under his breath and disappears from my doorway. I hear his boots plodding down the stairs, and just when I’ve assumed he’s not coming back, I hear his heavy footsteps coming back up. He reappears in my doorway with a bottle of Sailor Jerry, two cokes, and two cups.

Sighing, Blake sits next to me on the bed and starts pouring drinks. “If we’re gonna kill brain cells, we might as well have fun while doing it.” He hands me a rum and coke, then grabs the remote and resumes the show.

I probably shouldn’t be doing this. Last time I drank around Blake, my legs ended up wrapped around his waist with him buried deeper inside me than anyone’s ever been.

I won’t let that happen again. I
can’t.

My cheeks burn at the memory and I stupidly steal a glance at him. I sigh a little, amazed that someone so hot even
exists
, let alone wants to. . .to what, exactly?

Fuck me? Be my friend? We can’t do both, and not just because of our godparent predicament.

Being friends with benefits is risky. It might be a great premise for a RomCom, but here in the real world, it rarely works out well for everybody involved. Savannah and Declan got lucky. And before they got their happily-ever-after, there was a whole lot of heartache in the middle.

I’m not cut out for that. I’ve had more than my fair share of heartache, and I’m done with it. I’m
so
fucking done with it. So what if it’s made me live life a little more cautiously than most? If you play it safe, you don’t risk getting hurt.

But when I’m around Blake, I can’t seem to remember any of my rules. He makes me feel a little reckless. He makes me think it’s okay to color outside the lines.

He’s a perfect example of what I need to stay away from.

With renewed determination to keep things platonic, I smile over the rim of my cup, preparing to take a sip. “
We?
I didn’t ask you to watch this with me.”

Blake came up with a drinking game while we watch
Teen Mom 2
. Every time Jenelle says “dude,” we have to take a shot.

I’ve lost count of how many we’ve taken. Eventually I exit the show, because I like my liver and don’t want to die from alcohol poisoning.

Now we’re on the second episode of
Breaking Bad
. Blake acted mortally offended when he learned that I haven’t seen “the best TV show in the history of, like, ever” and immediately set about rectifying it.

So far, I’m not impressed. But I think that may have more to do with me being absolutely sloshed. I can’t focus for shit right now.

Case in point, this is the third time I’ve folded these goddamn leggings.

“You’re not watching it,” Blake slurs.

Rolling my eyes, I get up and zigzag my way to the dresser, then randomly open a drawer and shove my wadded-up leggings inside. “It’s the dad from
Malcolm in the Middle
. How ‘badass’ can he really be?”

Blake wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me back onto the bed. “Oh, ye of little faith. Just sit back and shut your beautiful pie hole.”

Is it just me, or is he. . .holding me? His arms tighten around my stomach as his nose brushes my hair. I freeze, unsure of what to do, when he suddenly comes to his senses and scoots back to his side of the bed.

‘
His side of the bed?
’

Dude. . .

Blake clears his throat. “See? It’s not weird.”

“What?” I. Cannot. Fucking. Concentrate. All I can think about is how good it felt to be pressed up against him.

Ugh, I’m hopeless.

“You said it’d be weird living together, remember? And it’s not. It’s totally not.” He draws out the “totally,” making it totally obvious that he’s full of shit.

Laughing, I roll onto my side to face him. “It wasn’t weird until you started cuddling me.
You’re
the one who made it weird.”

He props his head up with one hand, using the other to play with one of my curls. “Don’t smell so good and I won’t want to.”

I’m trying to squash the smile tugging my lips, but I can’t. Not when he’s playing with my hair like this and saying things that turn my insides to mush. “Should I start farting? Will that do the trick?”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Yes. For the love of God,
please
start farting. Crop dust me right out of this room.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just Blake, but oh my god. Is he always this funny?

When I catch my breath, I see him smiling down at me. “I like making you laugh,” he says.

“I like it too.”

Blake’s eyes dip to my mouth, lingering there for a second, before he rolls onto his back and folds his hands behind his head. “So what made you change your mind about moving in? Did you get tired of hearing your brother violate himself at night?”

“I wish. That’d be a thousand times less humiliating than what actually happened.”

He frowns. “What happened?”

“Uh, no.” I chuckle. “I’m not telling you. Nope. Not gonna happen.”

“C’mon, you can’t just dangle something like that in my face and then yank it away. Tell me,” he whines.

I groan, covering my face with my hands. Maybe if I’m not looking at him, I can get the words out. “
Mydohatemivibrader
.”

“What?”

I remove my hands, feeling how hot my face has suddenly gotten, and yell, “My dog ate my vibrator, okay? That little shit dug it out from under my bed, chewed it up, and dropped it in front of my entire family during dinner like it was some goddamn prize!”

Blake clutches his sides as he laughs, his face turning red as he struggles to breathe.

I hang my head, pursing my lips to keep from smiling. It was embarrassing as all get out, but even I can see the humor in it. “It kept twisting around on the rug like it was having some kind of seizure before it finally died.”

This of course only makes him laugh harder. 

“It’s not funny.” I nudge his shoulder. “I’ll never be able to look my parents in the eye again.”

He laughs for a solid two minutes before the dryer buzzes from downstairs, signaling the end of the cycle. “Be right back.” Blake wipes his eyes, swaying as he stands.

The room spins as I close my eyes and wait for him to return. I already know tomorrow morning’s hangover is going to suck
so
hard. It’s going to be the iceberg to this moment right now, where I feel like Leo at the bow of the ship, shouting, “I’m king of the world!”

I open my eyes and stare up at the spinning ceiling, irrationally mad all of a sudden, like I am every time I think of
Titanic
and how Rose could have shared that fucking door.

I lift my head at the sound of Blake’s footsteps coming up the stairs, but I am
not
prepared for the sight that greets me when he walks back into the room. Laughter bursts from me, drowning the words I’m desperately trying to get out. “Why are you wearing that?”

Blake frowns and looks down to the purple push-up bra he’s wearing.
My
bra, stretched across his bare chest. “Wait, is this not mine? It was in my laundry, so I figured it had to be.”

I get up, ignoring the way the room tilts. “I must’ve left it in the dryer. Gimme.”

He swats my hands away as I try to take it off. “You’re gonna have to come up with a better pick-up line than that. I don’t take my bra off for just anyone.”

“You’re stretching it out!” I’m trying my best to admonish him, but it’s hard when I can’t stop laughing.

I reach my arms around him, trying to unclasp it, but he’s fighting me the whole time. As a girl, you’d think I’d be better at getting this thing off. 

My foot hits something behind me and I stumble backwards, grabbing Blake for support. His balance, however, is not much better than mine right now, and he comes tumbling down with me.

We land on the floor with a loud thud, shaking the stuff on top of the dresser. “Are you okay?”

I nod, amazed that he didn’t crush me in the fall or knock the wind out of me.

“Good.” He grins down at me and pins my hands above my head. “Now ask nicely and maybe I’ll give it back.”

I shift under him, trying to buck him off, when his erection presses against the crotch of my leggings. Shocked, my mouth forms an “O” as I struggle not to giggle.

Blake freezes atop me, his eyes going wide. “Don’t move. Its vision is based on movement.”

I’ve never laughed so hard in my life. I have tears running down the sides of my face, blurring Blake and the room around us. Releasing one of my hands, he reaches between us and wipes them off my cheek.

It’s surprisingly tender and makes me stop laughing long enough to notice the odd look on his face.

He blinks and abruptly stands. “I have to go. I need to be my own friend right now since I can’t be yours, even though I really want to. I want to be your
best
friend, Macy, and I can’t, so I have to go.”

I laugh again at his nonsensical, drunk ass. “What?”

He stops and points at me. “Exactly.” Then he disappears into the hallway and a few seconds later I hear his door close.

Guess I’m not getting my bra back.

“Macy!” Blake’s voice carries from downstairs.

“I’m taking a bath!”

I sink down into the hot water, closing my eyes. 

Today’s been an ass-whooping with back-to-back classes, and this bubble bath is the first step on my plan to relaxation before I head to work tonight. Next is an ice-cold beer, followed by a round with my vibrator.

And this time I am
definitely
not watching our sex tape while I get myself off. Nope, not gonna happen. I’ve replayed that thing over and over to the point that it’s bordering on obsession, and it’s not healthy.

Plus, it’s kind of embarrassing. I’m sure Blake’s not obsessing over our hook-up like I am.

I hear his footsteps coming up the stairs, then a moment later a floorboard creaks outside the bathroom door. The knob turns, and to my absolute horror, the door swings open and in walks Blake.

My heart’s in my throat as I scramble to cover my boobs. “What the fuck? That wasn’t an invitation to come in!”

Beer in hand, he leans against the doorjamb, looking sweaty and dirty after a day of work. “Relax. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”