2. Chapter 2
MY GIRL?
Where the fuck did that come from?
Jordan told me Jolie was going to be here today, and I knew what she looked like from her social media pages but fuck, I was not expecting her to look like my wet dream come to life. And that’s exactly what she is; my wet dream.
From the time I popped my first boner, Jolie has been the leading star in my dreams. The first time I jacked off was to a picture of the three of us at the pool. Well, not quite. Jordan and I had been cut out on either side. It was just too weird to see her twin brother standing next to her while I choked the chicken.
I made sure to tell Jordan that she was not to leave without saying hello today, so I was prepared to face her. Needless to say, I was not prepared. Not in the least.
Most girls use filters to smooth out their flaws, or emphasize those features they wish were bigger or smaller. But not Jolie. She is what every girl is trying to achieve. Yes, she looks like her twin brother and if I was gay, Jordan would definitely be my type. But since I am strictly chickly, I can honestly say I have never seen a more beautiful woman than Jolie Fairchild.
“Yes. Let’s celebrate. The three J’s are back together,” Jordan says, coming up behind Jolie and wrapping his arm around the both of us. “It brings a tear to my eye.” He fakes a sniffle and if I didn’t have this beauty in my arms, I’d knee him in the nutsack.
“Well I’m feeling a little like a peeping Tom, so I’mma head out.” A voice I don’t recognize pipes up and it has me scrunching my brow.
“No, Brooke. Don’t leave. Wait. Just,” Jolie releases her hold on me and tries to wiggle free. “If these buffoons will let me out of this awkward sandwich, we can go.”
“Go? Go where?” The panic in my voice is only slightly evident, but inside I’m shaking. “Why don’t we all get some dinner? Or we can pick up some food and beer and head back to our place. We want to celebrate you ladies making the team.”
If Jolie couldn’t hear the panic in my voice, she can surely hear the desperation. It’s pathetic, I know, but I need more than two minutes with her. I’ve thought of her and only her for the last week once Jordan told me she was going to be living at home with her parents while she searched for a job.
She graduated in May with a dual bachelor’s degree in early childhood education and Spanish. Jordan said she plans to be an ESL teacher –English as a Second Language. But she’s had a rough go of finding a job in Colorado, not to mention the cost of living there is quite high in comparison to Texas. Her parents encouraged her to move home and live with them until she could find employment and a place of her own.
I hear she was pretty hesitant about moving back, but damn am I so grateful she did.
“Yeah, Jo. Don’t leave. What’re you gonna do? Go hang out with Fred and Roselyn and play an exciting game of ‘what should we watch’?” Jordan snorts a laugh, as do I.
“Who’s Fred and Roselyn?” the unknown woman asks.
I take it as an opportunity to introduce myself and convince this girl to spend the night with us.
“I don’t think I caught your name. I’m Joaquín,” I tell her, holding out my hand.
She takes it and says, “Oh, I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are. I’m Brooke.”
“Nice to meet you, Brooke. And Fred and Roselyn are Jo and Jo’s parents.”
“AKA, my roommates until I find a job,” Jolie adds. “We can go wherever you want, Brooke. Your call.”
The redhead looks from Jolie to me to Jordan, her teeth gnawing on her lip the entire time. With a sigh she says, “Here’s the thing. I’m only twenty, so going to a bar or ordering a drink at a restaurant is out of the question. The other thing is I’m sweaty and dressed in leggings and shorts and a sports bra. I’m not even dressed appropriately for McDonald’s at the moment. I do live close but it’s on campus and I have a roommate. Sooo,” she shrugs and quirks her lips.
“Perfect,” I say, clapping my hands. “We’ll go to our place. Jo and I will grab some food and drinks, and you ladies meet us there. Jolie,” I turn to her. “I’ll give you the code and you two can go in and clean up before we get there.”
I give her a hug and tell her to give me her number so I can text her the code for the house. “It’s still the same number,” she says.
My head pops up and I gawk. “What? You mean it’s still the same from high school?”
She nods and I want to smack my head. Our parting was not a good one the last time I saw her, so texting her never even crossed my mind. Asshole move, I know, but I was a dumb kid who could only see the bright lights of success. After a couple of years, I just assumed Jolie changed her number as she never attempted to contact me.
It hurt but I wrote it off to a friendship that just wasn’t meant to last.
“Yup. Same one.”
I flip through the contacts in my phone and find her name. Dream Girl is what she’s saved under. No one, and I mean no one, knows this. Not even Jordan and he’s my best friend. More than a friend, which is why I can’t tell him about my feelings for Jolie.
“Jo, you guys cool with Chinese?” Jordan asks her, already pulling out his phone to place an order.
“Only if it’s from Ming’s.”
“Ooo. I love Ming’s. I’m down,” Brooke says, making our usual twenty minute debate quick and easy. “I want the Peppered Chicken with white rice. I’ll Venmo you some money. What’s your number?”
“Nah. Don’t worry about it,” Jordan tells her. “It’s on us.”
“And when he says us he means me.” I roll my eyes because it’s true, but I don’t mind.
I’m making more than enough and really don’t need or require much. My parents raised me to live within my means, and who knows how long this hockey gig will last. So I’ve splurged on a couple of things, my Porsche Targa being one the most expensive purchases, and saved the rest. Plus, my success is Jo’s success because I couldn’t have made it through the last few years without his phone calls and texts and visits to keep my spirits up when I thought I might not make it.
“Cool. We’ll see you there. And hey Jo,” I add before walking away. “I’m really glad you’re home. The three amigos wasn’t the same without you.”
She smiles shyly, and dips her chin, and I walk away holding my heart in my hands, ready to toss it over.
Laughter rings out when Brooke twists her arm to place her hand on the green circle, only to miss and slam to the ground.
“Y’all. Drunk Twister is legit the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” Her words are slurred and sloppy and her eyes are glazed.
I’m sure the rest of us look the same as we’ve each been taking shots each time we fall. And we’ve been falling a lot.
“Okay Brooke. You know what that means,” Jolie pauses for a moment then we all chime all. “Drink, drink, drink.”
She sighs and gets to her feet clumsily and wobbles over to where the glasses and alcohol sit on the table. With a shaky hand, she pours herself a shot, picks it up and throws it back. Her body shivers and shakes and she makes a gagging sound.
“That’s it. I’m tapping out. I can’t drink one more or I will totally puke.” She walks over to the couch and plops down, throwing her head back and closing her eyes.
“Yeah, I think I’m done too.” Jordan pushes up from his very uncomfortable position on the gameboard and ends up crawling to lean back against the couch where Brooke sits.
I look at Jolie and give her a waggle of my brow. “Looks like it’s you and me, Jo.”
She does what she thinks is a brow waggle like mine, but it’s really just her forehead scrunching and unscrunching. “So it is… Jo .”
“Spin it, Jordan,” I call out to him and he groans.
“Can you just ask and not shout? Someone is banging a heavy metal song in my head.” On hands and knees, he crawls back over to the game board and flicks the arrow. When it stops he calls out, “Left foot, yellow.”
Jolie and I both look at our feet in the tangled limbs. Currently her head is near my stomach and her right leg up near her ear. The closest yellow circle means she will have to bring her left foot near her left ear and with the way her arms are, that is going to be near impossible.
I don’t fare much better as I would have to straddle her to get my foot on yellow.
Jolie makes the first move, carefully lifting her foot and swinging it around to touch the farthest yellow circle that her foot can reach. I forget that she has me at an advantage being a nimble dancer. But I am a flexible hockey player and can match her move.
Which I do…for about ten seconds. Then I come tumbling down, taking Jolie out and landing with her squished beneath me.
She lets out a guttural moan when my torso smashes her head into the ground.
“Shit. Jo. I’m sorry. Are you okay?” I try to push myself up, but my body is twisted in an awkward position and I’m drunk so that adds to my disorientation.
“Fine,” she mumbles and wiggles beneath me.
My eyes immediately widen and I suddenly feel my body coming to life. Her ass wiggles side to side, brushing against my dick, and I begin to grow hard. I try my best to get off of her, but only end up giving her enough room to turn over.
Her legs brush mine, sweeping the one steady leg out from under me, and I land flat on top of her, again.
We both let out an, “umpf,” and stay motionless. Our noses touch, tip to tip, and our alcohol infused breaths mix. I know the exact moment Jolie feels my erection digging into her leg because her eyes triple in size.
“I-sorry. Fuck.” I end up rolling off of her onto my back then over once more to hide the fucking tent in my pants.
Jolie pushes up on her elbows and instead of running away in embarrassment like I want to do, she just says, “Geez, Joaquín. I didn’t realize how much you love Twister.”
I turn my head to look at her and stick out my tongue.
“You’re a turd,” I tell her.
She lifts one hand and places her hand under her chin with a closed mouth smile and tilt of her head.
Her eyes wander over to where Jordan and Brooke sit on the couch. She nudges her chin towards them and asks, “Should we just leave them be, or drag them to bed? Well, drag Jordan to bed. I’m going to try and figure out how to get Brooke back to her dorm.”
I brace myself on my hands and this time I’m able to push up. “No way, Jo. You two aren’t going anywhere. You guys can take my room and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“We can’t do that. She can stay here on the couch, and I’ll go crash with Jordan. Lord help me. We haven’t shared a bed since our last family vacation where he kicked me in the face and gave me a bloody nose in the middle of the night.”
I snort remembering how they came back from their vacation with Jolie sporting a black eye and Jordan feeling like a jerk for hurting his sister.
“Sorry Jo, but there is no debate on the matter. You’re going to let me do this chivalrous act so that my manhood stays intact, and you gals are going to sleep off the alcohol. Just help me get Jordan up.”
I stand up, having finally gotten rid of the chub in my pants, and we both walk over to Jordan to wake him up the only way we know how.
We kneel on either side of him, stick our fingers in our mouths to get them good and sloppy, then on the count of three, stick them into his ear.
He jumps up and smacks our hands away. “You assholes,” he gripes, rolling his shoulders and shaking his arms. “I fucking hate when you two do that.”
Jordan would always be the first one to fall asleep at our sleepovers, and wet willies is how Jolie and I would torture him.
“Time for bed, sleeping beauty. The girls are staying in my room,” I tell him and smack his butt when he stands up.
“Will you stop harassing me? I feel violated,” he jokes then shuffles up the stairs and to his room where the door slams shut.
“C’mon. I’ll carry Brooke up if you lead the way.” I bend over and scoop her friend up who I could carry with one hand, and follow Jolie up the stairs to my room.
“Did you want something to sleep in, Jo?” Brooke is still in her leggings and t-shirt she put on earlier as is Jolie, but I ask her anyway.
She shakes her head and says, “Nah. I’m good in this. Thanks Jo. I appreciate it.”
I cover Brooke up with my sheets –thankful the maid came just yesterday– and walk over to Jolie. I tug her to me and wrap my arms around her neck. She circles her arms around my back and snuggles her face into the crook of my neck.
“I’m glad you’re home, Bunny,” I whisper into her ear, using the nickname we gave her as a kid.
I feel her smile against my neck and say, “I’m glad too, Bean.”
She started calling me beanpole when I hit a major growth spurt in junior high. Soon after it got shortened to bean, and it just stuck.
I kiss the top of her head, help her slide under the covers, and turn off the bedside lamp. I quietly close the door behind me then rest my forehead on it. I close my eyes imagining her in my bed. With me. Naked.
Bunny and Bean. Maybe one day.