Jay's Not Gay You Guys 4

I did a word count check on this Watching Him Back epilogue, and it's long. Long in a way that makes me question whether it's worth it. I get to write about another dumbass, though, so at least I'm having fun. Right guys? Right?

Right?

Here's more of this:

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 1

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You're Lucky I'm Drunk: Coop's Corner

I needed a break from the Power Plays/Stay Away from Her mental load, so here's what I've been working on as the follow up to You're Lucky I'm Drunk.  It's told from Cooper's perspective a couple years after the first drunken hookup.

—

It was stupid to get so excited. It wasn't like he was going to want to repeat the experience from last time. We hadn't talked about it since, not on the phone, not when we were texting, not anyhow. A pandemic had put a damper on my sex life, even if it had meant regular Friday night chats with Marshall. Plus, this time he would be here on business, not to mention that I had my kid for the week. I thought about getting a sitter, but that's not an easy thing to explain to a four-year-old. “Daddy’s friend is coming to town and Daddy has a lot of confusing feelings he wants to work out with alcohol and special hugs.”

Not that Marshall and I could do anything with her around, not really. Sierra was more visibly excited than I that Uncle Marshall was going to stay a whole weekend with us. They had only met once in person, but she had decided that Marshall was her “favorite boy,” except of course for me and whichever boyfriend she had that week in preschool. He’d started reading books over video for Sierra if she was with me when he called, and fuck me if that wasn’t the goddam sweetest thing ever.

“Is he going to sleep in my room?” Sierra asked from the backseat.

Power Plays Pt. 3.1

 "Just let him take you while your car's in the shop."

I can barely hear her over the rush of water coming out of the shower. "Shouldn't you be going with me?"

"I've already seen it," Chrisette says dismissively. "Just look at the main ranch house, and then it's only, like, one minute east to see that barn that the owners said we could rent for half."

"Why not just do that?"

"Because it's kind of in disrepair."

"I don't know why you think Todd will be of any help." I don't want to go anywhere with him.

Chrisette pokes her head around the shower curtain to swat my ass playfully. "Since you don't like it when I hang out with him alone…" she teases, then ducks back out when I reach for her.

Dear god, if only she knew. "Just come with, baby."

"I can't, Jesse," she says sympathetically. "I have to go to work. Todd said he'd be here at ten."

Fuck that. "I'll see if Scotty can take me," I reply. "He doesn't have shit to do."

"Whatever, that's fine. I gave Todd your number just in case," she adds as she sails out the door.

"You did what now? Chrisette? Hello?"

Before I'm even dressed I call Scott. When he answers he sounds completely distracted.

"Sorry, dude," he finally tells me after I wasted my breath explaining the situation. "I actually am driving Hannah's car today, and I have to pick her up for brunch as payment."

This must be how the Little Match Girl felt as the last flame went out. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I ask. "Crazy Pussy Hannah? Fucking brunch? You hate her!"

"And she hates me," Scott replies, "but that makes the sex a-fucking-mazing"

Even though he can't see it I shake my head. "This is going to bite you in the ass, man."

He laughs, "Come on, son. Everybody gotta stick they dick in crazy at some point. I'm pulling up, so I gotta go. If Hannah thinks I'm talking about her I won't get any road head. She loves giving road head."

"Fuck off, Scotty," I reply.

"You too, man. Later."

The beep of the ended call feels more final than usual. I wait for some sort of fucked up text for the next hour. Get naked and blindfold yourself at 9:57. Some shit like that. If any idiot has stuck dick in crazy, that would be me. Just me letting Crazy get my dick in his ass, and then Crazy turning around and dicking me. This is unhealthy as shit.

When Todd finally shows up I'm so tense that my balls are trying to retreat into my body. The son of a bitch just pulls up to the curb and honks the horn. Todd takes one look at me and goes, "I'm just doing this for Chrissy," when I hop in.

"Me, too, dumbass," I mutter, turning my cap around so I can pull the brim over my eyes. We spend the next forty-five minutes in silence. It gives me plenty of time to figure out how to tell the charming property owner that we don't want to rent her house or her barn. At least, I don't. Chrisette likes the idea of the mason jar, rustic, homespun outdoor wedding. I like the idea of my mother not complaining the whole day.  

When we reach the ranch I hop out without waiting for Todd. Neither do I introduce him to the woman who answers the door. Todd catches up to us as she’s taking me through the open living room.

It's a nice home, but it's never going to work for all of Chrisette’s ancient aunties and uncles. 

"Is it normal for houses this style to have all these levels?" I ask as the tour comes to a close. 

The lady shrugs. "As old as it is, back when they couldn't just even things out with a bulldozer…"

"Chrisette said that you guys need wheelchair access," Todd reminds me.

The woman nods. "Then in that case I do recommend that you check out the old barn. It's a fair-weather-only location, but the whole thing is flat."

I grit my teeth. I knew all that, which is why I asked about all the levels. Todd is just rubbing my face into how much time he spends with the woman I'm about to marry. I get it; you're besties. "Can I poke around there for a bit?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart," the woman says. "I gotta go feed the horses, but it's just two minutes east of here. Keep going down the road; you'll find it."

“We’ll give you a call,” says Todd, shaking her hand. 

We will not do a fucking thing, I don't say as I follow Todd back out to the car. Instead I shut the door a little harder than necessary and make a dumb comment.

"I'm still waiting for you to be useful, bro." It sounds like I'm trying to start a conversation, which is not the case.

Todd raises his eyebrows. "I'm a building contractor for high-end offices and fancy homes, with a background in structural engineering. Did Chrissy never tell you?"

"I have never asked," I respond with pride. Fuck Todd if he thinks I have any interest in him beyond how to legally remove him from this earth. But still, no wonder he can afford such nice shit.

"What do you do?" Todd asks like we're at a Christmas party. How come Chrisette never told him? I know she talks about me, because if her mom or sister don’t answer their phones and Chrisette’s mad at me, Todd is who she calls next.

"Graphic design and a little animation," I respond shortly. It sounds cooler if I don’t add that it’s for a microstock firm and corporate app developers. I've been getting into the graphic novel game a little, cleaning pencil sketches and doing coloration on a freelance basis, but I hate explaining what that means so I don't talk about it.

Todd makes a huh face. "I never would have pegged you as an artist," he comments. “You seem like such a frat boy.”

Chrisette thought the same thing until she got to know me. She and Todd both use frat boy as code for idiot. I wear t-shirts and shorts all the time because I work from home. "I never would have pegged you as a functioning adult. So, we're both surprised."

He looks like he's about to laugh but thinks better of it. “You'd be pretty funny if you weren't such a dick.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

Smug Little Bastard

If you didn't grow up with country relatives, this grammar might not make a lick of sense. 

Bless your heart.

“You like me, don’t you.”

I looked over at the man standing in the kitchen doorway, his arms folded and his feet apart.

“What?”

He tilted his head. “You like me; I can tell,” he said.

I was dumbstruck for a moment while all the blood in my body rushed to my face. “J.D., where the hell’s this coming from?”

Power Plays Pt. 2

Everyone in this story is still the worst. Part 1 is here.

"I told Sasha that we'd go with her and Todd to the movie."

"What?" I look up from my computer. "It's Guys' Night. We're going to Sam's." This wouldn't have been news to Chrisette—the guys and I have been meeting up since we were fresh out of college. I've joined them less since Chrisette and I have been dating, but Wednesdays have always been reserved for Guys' Night. At least, that's what I've been thinking all this time.

Chrisette leans over the couch to kiss my neck. "No, it's Be a Good Boyfriend Night starring Jesse and Todd."

"Why?" I whine as I pull her into my lap. "I still hate that guy." The bastard might be dating another woman, but that hasn't prevented him from horning in on my relationship with my future wife. Or from fucking me that one time.

"And I'm pretty sure you're the only one who isn't over it," Chrisette laughs. I don't know exactly what Todd told her, but I simply said we got in a fight. Chrisette got mad at us both, but she told me she was just glad that the bruises would fade before the wedding. "You just haven't spent enough time with him. Todd has a really dry sense of humor."

"Like a sociopath."

Rolling her eyes, Chrisette pinches my nose. "Grow up, Jesse. It's not your fault if the guy just has more charm—"

My arms tighten around her waist. "More what?" I'm trying to sound like I don't care, because I know that Chrisette is mostly kidding. But still, why even say something like that? Sometimes it feels like Chrisette only makes these comparisons to piss me off.

"Baby," she continues, "you promised you would try to get along with him."

No such promise left my mouth, actually, but I did promise that I would stop complaining when she hung out with Todd. It was pretty much the least I could do after…the fucking. I wish there was another word for it, so I could separate it even further from what Chrisette and I do together.

"I'll try," I say anyway, because I feel like a bastard now.

Chrisette, however, isn't done. "Why don't you sit next to him during the movie?" she asks, stroking the underside of my chin.

I give her a look. "Are you serious?"

She shrugs. "It's not a big deal, Jesse. Don't be so immature."

I pinch her nose lightly. "You know what they say: Resist the devil."

She rolls her eyes. "You dope."

Although Chrisette doesn't pressure me after that, I'm ninety-percent sure that she's still secretly devising a way for me and Todd to become super best buddies forever. More important than anything is being good to my fiancé, though. If we’re going to spend our lives together I’ll have to make some sacrifices; god knows Chrisette has. I text the guys to say that I'm not coming over and grab my wallet.

Chrisette and I have our tickets, drinks, and popcorn before the others show up. I could care less about the movie we’re seeing; it’s some Wes Anderson bullcrap where everything is supposed to be cute. I liked maybe one of his movies before that got old.

"Hey."

Cold chills run down my spine at the sound of the most heinous voice in existence. I turn around to see Todd and poor Sasha.

"Ooh, I like your new glasses!" Chrisette exclaims, throwing her arms around Todd.

Sasha chuckles. "I know, right? He's like a sexy German architect."

Since nobody's paying attention to me I curl my lip. Todd has these really light-colored eyes that make him look like he's always planning something nefarious. The glasses only emphasize that. He sees me glaring at him and winks.

Chrisette is so thrilled that her two best friends are dating, as she tells me multiple times while we wait for Sasha and the jackass to get snacks. "Don't they make a cute couple?"

"Totes adorbs!" I reply with a straight face. I could be smoking a cigar right now, watching the birth of Heisenberg.

She pulls my head down to plant a kiss on my mouth. "Thanks for being a good boyfriend, even if you are a grump right now."

My conscience smacks me over the head a few times. I should be on my best behavior—I'm the only one in this relationship to have actually slept with fucking Todd. Chrisette's soft lips are some comfort. In the battle for her heart, I'm currently winning. Suck it, Todd. You and your architect glasses can fucking suck it.

"Why don't you fine ladies sit in the middle?" I suggest when we walk in the theatre.

Sasha holds up her giant cup. "I am gonna have to pee in, like, thirty minutes. You don't want me on the inside."

Todd laughs. "Why do you even bother?"

Sasha nudges him with her elbow. "Because you'll tell me what I missed."

Chrisette squeezes my hand, and I look down at her. She whispers, "They are so perfect for each other." I don't know; I have a hard time seeing it as anything except a sexual predator and his next tasty victim. Sasha doesn't deserve whatever misery he ends up sending her way.

But whatever, the point is that I am not sitting next to the smug bastard. I head into the row. It’s a small concession to let Todd sit next to my fiancé.

As the lights dim Chrisette pulls a flask from her coat.

"Is it really going to be that bad?" I joke, and she flashes me a naughty little smile. Chrisette takes a swig and passes it down the line.

Todd accepts it and looks over at me. "None for you?" he asks like we're friends.

"My man doesn't drink," Chrisette replies, saving me from having to address the douchebag directly.

Sasha leans forward in surprise. "I didn't know that," she exclaims as she takes the flask from Todd, who's wincing dramatically at whatever Chrisette put in there. "Why not?"

"Family history," Chrisette answers for me again. I guess that's the clearest summary. Then she adds, "His dad is basically a hobo now."

Sasha gives an awkward I know, right? kind of laugh, but Todd just looks at me extra hard for a second there. Thank god the previews start and there's no chance for Chrisette to reveal any more of my history to Sasha and the guy she's fucking. Chrisette settles into me when I put my arm around her, and I relax for a few minutes. At least, until the credits are almost over and both Sasha and she decided they absolutely have to pee right now, immediately, or burst. "Scoot over," Chrisette whispers and I look at her in surprise.

"Just come back here," I whisper back, but Sasha makes exaggerated shooing motions.

"We are both going to have to get up again," Sasha points out, and Todd obediently scoots over to the seat next to mine. Chrisette flashes me a smug little grin.

I send her a text. R u fucking kidding me. Chrisette turns her phone off.

The movie is cute. That’s all there is to say about it, with all the color coordinating and repetitive dialogue and weird characters. I might have been able enjoy it if I had been sitting next to Chrisette. Being cut off from the rest of the group by Todd’s shoulders as he leans over to whisper to the ladies is fucking annoying. It’s just…this isn’t a nice theatre. The seats are really close together, as in sharing an armrest that of course Todd takes over because he’s a prick. And I can smell him; I think he bathes in cologne. Even though I'm burning up I leave my coat on, just to have more barriers between my skin and the asshole sitting next to me.

“Are you sweating?” Todd asks once.

I don’t answer. Part of me wants to give Chrisette a huge I told you so, since sitting two people together in a
theater is not going to make them friends. The instant the credits roll I stand up.

"I'm gonna go pee," I tell Chrisette, not because I actually need to go, but because I'm a raw fucking nerve and I
need to escape. It turns out to be a stupid idea; not ten seconds after I stop in front of a urinal Todd walks into the bathroom.

Todd ignores every other fucking urinal in order to pee at the one right next to mine. This fucking guy. I'm not going to get into a literal pissing contest with him. Our dicks are pretty much the same size. I know this already; there's nothing fucking intimidating about whipping out your cock in front of someone who's already seen it. Without even zipping up I head into a stall. Thank God the asshole doesn't try to follow me in there.

It's lame, but because I can't make myself piss I flush the toilet and listen for the sound of the sink. When the hand dryer goes off I step out. Another bad idea, because Todd turns around and immediately backs me into the stall.

"Your girlfriend is waiting on you," I bite out, cursing myself for getting so intimidated by someone walking fast at me. I could have just moved out of the way. I'm a fucking pussy.

Todd yanks open my jeans and shoves his hand inside. "So's yours."

"Fuck you," I start to say, but a bunch of guys come into the bathroom then, so Todd pulls my face into his neck to muffle it. It is easier with his cheek against one ear and his shoulder against the other. I can pretend that I'm dreaming, that I'm not in a public restroom getting jerked off by my fiancée's straight-ish best friend.

"Lift your feet," Todd whispers harshly. Because I know exactly what I would've done if I'd ever noticed two pairs of adult shoes in a bathroom stall, I let Todd wrap my legs around his waist and brace my back against the wall.

The toilet keeps flushing as the sensor picks up our shifting bodies. That's okay, I guess. It masks the sound of my heavy breathing as Todd's hand glides up and down my cock. He spits on his hand once, looking me straight in the eyes. I want to punch him, but someone would notice.

It's so fucking wrong that I'm hard. Even though I can't help liking the feel of a hand on my dick, it makes me mad. Todd looks so fucking smug right now, his eyes narrowed behind his stupid glasses and smiling when I have to start breathing through my mouth.

"That's it," he says triumphantly when my hips take over and I start fucking his hand. He rubs his thumb over the head whenever it bumps past his fist. It's a shock to my system every time. My feet lock together behind his back, the better to fucking hump his hand with. Oh my god, I want to come. I know it makes me a disgusting human being, but I have to come. Grabbing Todd's shoulders I press my back against the wall; it's cool through my coat, not enough to distract me from the tingling fullness in my balls. I'm gonna fucking come.

Goddam it, I don't want this. I knock Todd's hand off my cock and for a brief moment my feet touch the ground, but he shoves my arm out of his way again and claps his other palm over my mouth. My hips starts that arrhythmic thrust and Todd bites my throat. All I can do is try to breath through my nose and not spasm. My heels dig hard into the backs of Todd's thighs as I start to fuck his hand desperately. I need something to hold onto, something solid so that I don't fly everywhere. It’s on me in a heartbeat—I’m coming, the deep gut-wrenching climax that takes me over. Todd just barely catches the back of my head, cracking his knuckles against the wall as I start shaking. Oh my god, I'm coming so hard, shooting hot, shooting clear, shooting fast with stars behind my eyelids because I can’t keep them open.

When my head clears a second later I realize that I'm wrapped around Todd like a fucking koala. He's going, "Shh, shh, shh." Am I a crying baby? Fuck you, man. Still panting hard, I put my feet down, bracing my hands on the walls for balance. Todd backs up so I can stand on the toilet seat and zip up. He just folds his arms like no big deal, then when I'm mostly de-jizzed he peeks out the stall door and exits.

Deep breath. Count to three. I climb down from the toilet seat and go to the sink. I wish I could wash my dick, my neck, the back of my head—anything that asshole touched. I settle for washing my hands. Todd is leaning against one of the stall dividers, smugly watching me.

"What?" I ask testily.

He gives me a small mean smile. "You make the cutest little cum faces."

WHAP.

Todd's new glasses go skittering across the floor and he almost falls over. My palm stings. Oh, shit, I split his lip. Godammit, why don't I think? Todd retrieves his glasses and inspects them, licking the blood from his mouth. My gut instinct is to apologize, I feel the urge to show no signs of weakness.

"Bro, I think you walked into the wall on your way out," I say. "Must be the new prescription."

That earns me one of those standard Todd side-eyes. "Sure," he replies, "and I'll let you kiss it and make it better."

I shake my head slowly. This is a fucking public place.

"Okay, then you slapped me."

Deep breath in. One. Two. Three. Deep breath out. I march over and grab him roughly by the chin and the back of his neck. I plant a quick peck on his already-red cheek, but of course before I pull back all the way Todd grabs my wrists. I half expected this.

"Kiss it nicely."

I know he means his lip. Ugh. I force my fingers to relax, imagine that it's Chrisette…God, that makes it worse. I'd never hit her. Todd can't just let me get it over with; he puts his hand on the back of my neck and his tongue on mine. I taste blood.

The door swings open and we jump apart. "All better," I say, and Todd leaves. I wash my mouth out. When I rejoin the group Sasha and Chrisette both smack me.

"Ow! What's that for?"

"When someone gets injured, Jesse, you offer to help instead of laughing your ass off," Chrisette says
accusatively.

"Is that what I did?" I reply, giving Todd a disapproving look.

Sasha looks at her snake of a boyfriend. "Are you playing the victim again?"

Todd shrugs. "I'm an opportunist."

"You're a pity whore," Sasha retorts, and I stop feeling so sorry for her. Maybe she knows what she's getting into.

Will 2

The explanation for this section is here. There's some clunkiness ahead that need to be addressed…unless you can't tell where it is.

As much as I wanted to pretend like things are all cool, the next day school was just weird. I felt like everyone just knew, somehow, that Will had kissed me yesterday. He could have texted me sorry, but he didn't, and so even though I knew I shouldn't think this way a small part of me doubted that he was sorry at all. Maybe he was gay and just felt like he couldn't tell anyone. Or maybe it had been so long since hed gotten some that everything just kind of spilled out when I stepped forward to close the door after him. There was a spiky cloud over my head. What if Cassie told in spite of her promise? It would get around so fast. I'd never been bullied, but I could imagine that it would suck. Or maybe the gay kids here didn't have to deal with that since no one really cared. Maybe I should corner one of them and ask, just in case.

Will didn't look at me the whole day. He laughed when I made a joke and he talked to Josh plenty, but not even once did his black cartoon eyes lift to meet mine. It made me feel super guilty for some reason, like me freaking out at home had somehow passed through the ether to reach Will, and he knew and felt even worse than I did and was punishing himself for kissing me. It's not like we had been in a fight. I knew how to come back from those, but how could we possibly get past the goodbye peck at my door yesterday? So, I fell back on old habits and invited Will over after school.

Will.1

The first story I started in this universe currently holds the title of "Prom Night," which is about a girl who tries to help her neighbor come out of the closet. The small city, private school setting provided the teacher for "Shouldn't." A tertiary character mentioned in "Prom Night" became one of the main characters in a short extra called "Olive Juice." Then I thought, Wouldn't it be nice to tell the story from the other guy's perspective? So "Shouldn't" is getting a sequel called, "Wouldn't" (I'm very creative) and "Olive Juice" has a prequel from Declan's point of view. Here's the part where the action kicks off.

We both realize what he just did at the same time. I think I frown, I don't know, but Will's eyes get huge. I never realized how black his eyes were until his face turned into a cartoon. Just two black circles on his face surrounded by shaggy black hair. It would have been funny at any other time. He looked like he was about to apologize, and then he ran, literally ran, to his car. He almost backed into our mailbox, he was in such a hurry to leave.

Windshield Incident 3 eBook Available

On the anniversary of Part 2, the 3rd installment of The Windshield Incident is now published and available for download. It's here on Smashwords, and will eventually show up on Apple, Kindle, Nook, and other partnered eBook retail sites. It's like buying me a quarter cup of coffee to keep me alert and typing.

Fun fact: The background colors correspond to Grant's mental and emotional state.
Guess what color Part 4 will be.

Power Plays

This story is fucking weird, and in my head the aftermath is drawn out and dark. I'm not sorry.

 "Excuse me?" Chrisette's slender eyes widen in disbelief. "Did I just hear you forbid me from seeing him?"

Should I have just kept my mouth shut? "I'm just saying maybe don't hang out one-on-one."

"Are you kidding me?!"

In a way this is a variation on a theme. I think she's allowing herself to be drawn into a second relationship, she thinks I'm just jealous. I spread my hands. "What kind of a guy takes another—" I don't even finish before Chrisette groans in frustration "—man's fiancée on a date?"

"It wasn't a date!"

"Certainly not a business lunch."

Chrisette folds her arms. "I invited you along. You said you didn't want to go."

"I said I didn't want to see the movie," I correct. "I thought you would go with Sasha or somebody."

"So you're mad because I went with 'somebody,'" she scoffs.

"No, I'm mad because you can't seem to understand that you're essentially cheating on me—"

"Oh my god!"

"—without the sex! It was dinner and a movie and he paid. That's a fucking date! You're about to marry me, and you're dating him."

This was probably the wrong thing to say, because Chrisette jumps off the couch. Is she looking for something to throw at me? "I cannot believe you don't even trust me."

"It's not that I don't trust you," I backpedal. "I don't trust him. That asshole is just waiting for the big fight when you come crying to him, and he finally gets to fuck you while looking like the hero."

I didn't backpedal far enough. Chrisette puts a hand on her hip. "I don't fuck anyone I don't want to fuck," she says through her teeth, "and you should be fucking grateful that I chose you. Nobody's going to be 'seducing' me. Especially not Todd."

Taking a deep breath, I lower my voice. "Please, baby, work with me. I know how guys think. Especially single guys."

"Todd is just a friend," she says, each word getting louder. "He's only single because Emily was a crazy bitch and they broke up. We are not interested in each other." She gives me a speculative look. "Would you be this mad if he were ugly? Like if he didn't dress well, or was a complete Elephant Man."

"Yes! It's not about the whole…" I gesture at my own face, which I hadn't worried about until now. "It's that he is single right now, and that you don't think he's ugly, and you call him when you're mad at me…" Why didn't I shut up? Chrisette's eyes have practically narrowed to slits.

"So I," she says slowly, "can't recognize that one of my friends is handsome, but you can jack off to porn every time I'm gone for more than twelve hours?"

"Baby, that was once—"

Chrisette cuts me off. "Do not. Bullshit me."

It was once, and I had made the mistake of confessing when she jokingly asked. "Chrisette, come on. Just work with me here."

"Work with you? Work with you?!"

I'm on a slippery slope now, and as much as I know I should placate her and save it for later, I try one more time to make Chrisette understand. "This is exactly what he wants! You're telling me, 'Oh, there's nothing to worry about. Oh, we're just friends,' but that's exactly how you and I started!"

"I wasn't dating anybody when I met you!" she yells. Chrisette takes a deep breath, shuts her eyes for a second, and gives me the coldest look I've ever seen from her. "I am leaving," she says. Damn. It. "I might come back tonight, but I might not be back until tomorrow. But I will not be off fucking anybody else, and I will not be masturbating to the sight of fake-tittied botte blondes getting fucked by monster cocks."

"Chrisette—"

She cuts me off with a sharp hand gesture. "I can't deal with you right now. If you want to be a fucking jealous paranoid idiot, do it on your own time. I'll come back when you've cooled down."

I want to tell her that I'm cool, that I'm not paranoid, that I can definitely be dealt with…all of it sticks to the roof of my mouth as I watch her put her laptop in a bag with her toothbrush. If she goes to her mom's house I am toast. I'll be in the doghouse for a week, because her mom thinks Chrisette could do better.

It's only five minutes before I've sent her the first text. Baby, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone off like that. No response. Has she gone to complain to her mother, or to that motherfucker as a "fuck you" to me? I send another. Please just call me.

The lock clicks about an hour later. I haven't moved from the couch, so I'm halfway to the door with an apology on my lips when Todd walks in.

"Oh, hey man," he says casually, striding past me down the hall. "Chrissy asked me to get her phone charger."

Shit. She went to her mom's. I follow Todd into the bedroom, my bedroom, and watch him unplug Chrisette's charger from beneath the desk. "Is she with you?" I ask, trying not to clench my teeth. Count to three. Slowly.

Todd dangles his keyring in front of me. "Nah, she called and asked 'cause I've been working on a house two blocks down. I just used my key."

My brains goes haywire for a second. His key? Did he steal a key and have it copied? That's illegal, right? Would Chrisette defend me or him if I pressed charges? Maybe some of my thoughts are visible on my face, because Todd spreads his hands in a whoa, there gesture.

"It's cool, man," he says. "Chrissy gave it to me."

What.

The.

Fuck.

The Windshield Incident 2 Sneak Peek

If I had free moments they would be dedicated to Strange Bedfellows, which is this close to being finished. Free moments are naught to be found this month, so instead here's some more shit that happens to Grant. If you don't know who Grant is, click here.

Screw Ryder Vance. Never in my eighteen years had anyone ever messed with my head like that. My brain had that day at the park on loop, playing in high definition clarity during quiet moments. Ryder’s voice became a dubstep beat: “Get on your knees and give me a fucking blowjob.” “Have you ever been fucked?” “Come on my cock.” Once I found myself rapping it aloud on the bus. “Give me a, give me a, give give give give gimme a fuc-king blowjob.” Good god.

The Worst Days Ch. 2.4

More of this hot mess, because I'm definitely stalling. To read the part 2.3 click here, or start from the beginning. Again, thanks to Luz for sending me a copy of this lost tome.

Fen's mouth turned up a bit more. "If I didn't know better, I would have thought you'd done that before," he sighed. Had he been feline, he would have purred. 

I snorted. "I do not consider that a compliment."

"Mm, you should," he murmured. "I can't move."

"So now would be a good time to make a run for it?" I said sarcastically.

Fen opened a grey eye at me. "You want to run around this place with a stiff dick after what you saw today? Be my guest."

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The Windshield Incident Pt. 1

Sometimes procrastination is the mother of productivity. Tucker Jones was born when I was in the middle of The Worst Days. The vitriolic pair in the My Neighbor series moved in between Bunny chapters 1 and 2. Most recently, as I struggle[d] to a) write the last part of the Strange Bedfellows collection that the aforementioned neighbor series became, and b) connect the plot points for Watching Him Back Ch. Billion I had a stroke of inspiration.

Sandalwood Ch. 3

The last time I'd seen that expression I had put my hands on the sides of his ribcage and pressed him against the wall. I remembered how I'd kissed him until we were breathless. I remember he had sighed with resignation and how his arms crept around my back to pull me close. Moreover, I remembered how much I had liked it.

My right hand moved before I could order it otherwise. I felt Gary’s shocked inhale through his stomach. We stared at each other for a moment—it was the first time that I had really looked at Gary, studied him, noticed how dark his brown eyes were in comparison to his pale lashes and strawberry brows. His narrow shoulders made him look scrawnier than he felt through his sweater. He must have grown into his looks; he had a fierce chin and sharp nose that would have been awkward on a boy.

Gary broke the charged silence. “What are you doing?” he asked in a whisper.

“I don’t know,” I responded just as quietly. “I’m trying not to analyze it.”

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Sandalwood

I realize that this scenario is completely nonsensical, but the idea popped into my head one day and didn't leave. Enjoy.

"I'm gonna throw up," I moaned, rubbing my temples.

David set a cup of coffee in front of me. "Yet another night of debauchery?"
I
I nodded and pull the mug close. Sweet life-giving brew. "I had to take a fucking bus downtown to get my car. Again. And my shirt smells like sandalwood."

"Ah, so the mystery masseuse is back," David joked. "Got oil on your dick?"

"No, dumbass. And I told you that I don't remember anything." These blackout nights didn't happen every weekend; more like a monthly occurrence. It wouldn't be weird given how much and often I drank, but I always woke up at home, showered and in my pajamas, and I always smelled of incense. I didn't burn incense and I never wore pajamas any other day of the year. Weirder and better still, I woke up feeling like my balls had been completely drained. It was as though I'd had amazing sex in my sleep.

"Maybe if you quit getting stoned every time you drink you'd start recalling shit. Like a massage hooker." David tapped my desk. "I need that concert review today, junior."

"You're a fucking idiot. And I only had the one joint. I think." Staring at the screen was going to make this hangover worse. Thinking about the previous night could make me hurl.

"G'morning Gary," David addressed an approaching figure. "Nicky here is attempting to reconstruct the events of last night to prove that he does get laid on the occasion."

Gary, ever the awkward soul, blushed to nearly the color of his hair.

"Don't believe him, Gary. I got pussy aplenty last night. I can feel it in my bones," I declared between sips of coffee. Gary looked tired. "Did you go out?"

He paused. "You don't remember seeing me?"

"Nope, sorry."

"Oh, um..." Gary scratched his head. "I guess you were pretty wasted."

"Don't remember a thing past the beginning of the after party."

"Oh, uh, of course. Right."

David and I watched as Gary turned tail and scurried off to his IT annex. So weird.

"You know," David commented, "I think you make him nervous."

"No, your ugly face makes him nervous," I grumbled.

David kicked my chair before settling at his desk. "I'm serious, bro. He doesn't act like that around me. He's all chatty until you walk in the room, and then he clams up like a dry twat."

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