Chapter Six
Bridgette
Indigonanza ended up being a bit of a letdown. Half the acts that were promised to us the next few days ended up canceling. After an hour of wandering around, I was able to finally find my tent. Jeremy came around the next morning apologizing with some bullshit excuse about being too high. I didn’t hear him out, though. Whatever claim he thinks he has on me, it’s because I allowed him to feel that way, and that’s on me. So I’ve completely cut him off. Cokehead can get fucked.
A few weeks later, I’m sitting in a chair, sunbathing on the beach when Angela’s phone goes off. She groans as her fingers begin tapping on the screen.
“What?” I ask.
“My brother. He’s asking if you’re with me.”
Lovely.
“Why?” I huff, despite not giving a damn.
She turns to face me, incredulity covering her features. “Seriously? Because he’s in love with you. You’ve never given him an ounce of attention until this summer. He knows he fucked up at Indigonanza, but don’t you think icing him out is a little harsh?”
I shrug. Not my problem. I don’t have time for his shit.
“She’s just back to hoping Asher notices her existence.” Mercy giggles.
I shoot her an icy look that she ignores, adjusting her bathing suit top so more skin is showing. She’s one strong breeze away from her nipples popping out. I can’t help but be a smidge jealous of her in that regard. I had A cups my whole life, and it wasn’t until I got my boobs done that I was able to graduate to a C cup. It’s nothing compared to Mercy’s DD’s, even if they are fake. Hell, even Maggie has bigger tits than both of us. Pretty sure they aren’t fake either, which just pisses me off even more.
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap at Mercy. “Things with Liam a little lackluster? Haven’t been able to hold him down, so you have to butt into my life?”
I know Liam isn’t her goal. She doesn’t really have one. She’s sowing her wild oats, probably so that when it comes time for the Legacies to make proposals, she has options. Not a terrible strategy, I guess.
“Hardly.” She shrugs. “Last time we hooked up was at your party, and it was glorious. We had a threesome with our Uber driver that night.”
“Ew,” Angela says with a wrinkled nose. “Did Liam and him like…touch?”
“Hell yeah, they did. Liam fucked me while the guy fucked him. It was heaven.”
“I don’t understand how that can be a turn on. Homosexuality is wrong. It’s an abomination. Like I don’t even know how Bridgette can stand to live in the same house as that…lesbian,” she says, hissing out the word like it’s a disease or something.
Angela’s spewing everything our parents and mentors practically beat into us through childhood. Most of us are smart enough to form our own opinions as they get older, even if our parents don’t agree. Mercy, for example, is apparently having threesomes while two men are together, and she looks absolutely tickled pink over it. The way Angela says lesbian kind of irks me, though. Maybe because it reminds me too much of the way I said it that night to Maggie.
“Get off your soap box, preacher.” Mercy scoffs. “Nothing wrong with a little fun. The whole taboo aspect of it is hot as shit.”
I scrunch my nose up at their conversation. I’m not exactly going to marches or anything, mainly because my father would no doubt hang me by my toes, but even I know both of their opinions are completely fucked up. Someone else’s sexuality isn’t just a turn on for their pleasure. It’s not a kink or something they choose, so I don’t know why we are talking like it is. Whatever.
“It’s disgusting, and I honestly am a little grossed out that you’d be into it,” Angela says with a shake of her head.
Mercy sits up, lifting her sunglasses off her head. “Well, I think it’s a little disgusting that you fucked a fifteen year old last month, but you don’t hear me judging you.”
My eyes widen behind my sunglasses as I turn to stare at them both. What the fuck?
“Okay, first off, I’m nineteen, so it’s only a four year difference. We could have gone to the same high school together,” Angela defends. “Second, you promised you wouldn’t say anything, you fucking bitch!”
“Don’t cast stones at glass houses, rapist.” Mercy shrugs.
Shaking my head, I stand up, packing my things and slipping on my swimsuit cover.
“Where are you going?” Angela asks.
“Not really interested in listening to you two bicker like old hags,” I say as I slip my arm through my bag and begin walking off.
I hear a few choice names murmured between the two of them, but I don’t pay them any attention. Frenemies, remember? I’ve come to expect nothing but the worst from them.
The drive home doesn’t take too long, but when I get there, I notice my brother’s car in the driveway, parked next to Maggie’s black Lexus. What the fuck is he doing here?
Stepping out of my Porsche, I walk through the front door when a very familiar and offensive smell hits my nose, followed by giggling. Great, my pothead brother is home.
Walking into the living room, I find him and Maggie on the couch, passing a joint back and forth. A hazy fog clouds the room and I cover my nose and mouth with my hand as I speak.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?”
My brother’s messy black head of hair whips up, staring up at me with bloodshot eyes and grinning.
“Sis! What’s up?”
“Your THC levels. Why are you here?”
“Do I need an excuse to come see my family?” He chuckles.
“Yes,” I answer flatly.
“Shit, you’re in a mood. Take a toke, baby B. Loosen up,” Maggie says as she holds the joint out to me.
I wrinkle my nose as I shake my head.
“Nah, Mags. She isn’t 420 friendly, you know what I mean?”
“She hasn’t tried my shit before. C’mon, one puff,” Maggie says as she continues holding it out for me.
Brad laughs, tipping his head back to rest on the couch. “Fuck, you’re not wrong. This shit is good. Where do you get it?”
“I’ve got a guy,” Maggie says before turning to look at me once more.
Her normally bright green eyes are glossy and hazed with a red tint, rivaling her hair. All of her curls are piled up on top of her head as she sits crosslegged on the couch wearing a black tank top and black leggings. Seriously, does she own any color? At all? I’d be amazed if I just saw white.
“She won’t do it, though. She’s too good for weed.” Brad snickers as he attempts to steal the joint from Maggie.
I move quicker, grabbing it between my fingers and taking a small inhale. It’s not like I’ve never smoked weed. With Brad as my older brother, how could I not have? I used to sneak into his stash in high school from time to time, but I never liked the way it made me feel. Instead of giggly and happy, I always got sluggish and tired. Something about Brad’s shit talking combined with the dramatic bitches I just came from has me foregoing my instincts, though.
I hold it in for a few seconds before blowing the smoke out. Maggie looks decently impressed as she takes it back, wrapping her lips around the joint to take another hit, blowing it out her nose before handing it to Brad.
“Oh shit! How do you feel Bridgey?” Brad giggles.
“Bridgey?” Maggie smirks.
“It’s Bridgette,” I grit through clenched teeth.
“Whatever, bro.” Brad laughs as he finishes off the joint before stubbing it out.
“Seriously, Brad. What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I need a place to crash for a few weeks. My apartment complex is doing maintenance. No big deal. I already cleared it with Dad. Didn’t he tell you?”
No, he didn’t. I haven’t heard a word from him since he disappeared for his two month long honeymoon. Not that I’m complaining. Honestly, it’s been nice. I hadn’t planned on putting up with my stoner brother, though. Even if it is only for a few weeks.
“So, what? You’re just gonna stay here and get high all day?” I ask.
“Maybe. Why do you care so much, Bridgey? Just sit back and chill. You’re so fucking uptight.”
“Has she always been this way?” Maggie asks.
“Oh fuck yes,” Brad laughs. “Even as a little kid, always trying to mother people and shit.”
I roll my eyes in irritation. Maybe if I had a brother who was a little more responsible, I wouldn’t have to mother him.
“Well, she has a dumb fuck for a brother, she probably had to,” Maggie teases, practically ripping my thoughts right out of my head.
Brad lets out what I can only describe as a typical stoner laugh before he nods.
“Shit, I fucking love this chick. And she’s our new sister? Score.”
“Stepsister.” Maggie corrects, casting me a look.
“Tomato, corn on the cob.” He shrugs. “So, does that mean we can fuck?”
“Brad!” I snap, rolling my eyes at him.
“What?” he asks.
Maggie, for some reason, seems to find him funny. She chuckles and shakes her head.
“Man, I’d love to, but you got the wrong plumbing.”
He frowns. “No, they’re redoing the floors. The plumbing is fine.”
Jesus Christ.
“She means she is into women, you know, not men. You have the wrong plumbing,” I say as I gesture to his crotch.
“Oh,” he says before his eyes light up. “OH! Shit, that’s super hot. Can I watch you the next time you fuck someone?”
“Bradley.” I sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Maggie lets out a laugh. “For five hundred bucks.”
“Fucking sold!” He snickers before climbing to his feet.
“Where are you going?” I sigh, already exasperated with him.
“To get snacks.” He sniggers as he stumbles off towards the kitchen.
I shake my head as he goes, and Maggie turns to look at me.
“What’s wrong? He’s just fucking around.”
“No, he’s not. You better believe that when he is sober enough to get to an ATM, he will be handing you five hundred and will be ready for a show.”
Maggie shrugs. “I get an orgasm and five hundred bucks? Sounds like a win to me.”
I screw up my nose at that as she shrugs and clicks on a horror movie. Shocker. That seems to be all she watches.
“Do me a favor, don’t let him do something stupid like drive. He’s a fucking idiot, but he’s the only idiot I have,” I say.
Maggie nods. “You can hang with us if you want.”
I head for the stairs when I pause. That catches me off guard. Ever since Indigonanza, we’ve done a decent job of avoiding each other. There isn’t tension per se, but…we have nothing to say to one another. So why is she all the sudden trying to include me?
“Why?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re here, your brother is here. This is your house. We don’t have to avoid each other at all costs all the time, do we?”
I think on that for a moment before slowly moving towards the couch. Maggie is sitting in the middle of the sectional in front of the TV and I settle in the corner L section. We watch the start of the movie for a few minutes before Brad comes stumbling in with a plate of nachos, a bowl of popcorn, a carton of ice cream and…is that spray cheese on crackers? Gross, why the fuck do we even have spray cheese in the house?
He practically falls on his face as he spreads out all of his food like a feast onto the floor and begins stuffing his face. One minute, I’m watching the movie, and the next, Brad is snoring so loudly Maggie has to turn the volume up.
“For a stoner, he sure is a lightweight.” She laughs.
“Yeah, you’re not accounting for the three bong rips and dab pen he was probably hitting before he came over here.”
Maggie cocks her head like she hadn’t thought of that before she rifles through her purse, pulling out another joint. She lights it up and takes a slow hit before handing it to me. I hesitate for a moment, but honestly, I don’t really feel anything yet, so what’s the harm?
I take a larger hit this time, holding it for longer before blowing it out. Before I can stop it, uncontrollable coughs escape my chest, and no matter how hard I try to fight it, I can’t stop. A hand rubs my back before gently patting.
“There you go, easy. More you cough, the better you’re off.” Maggie laughs.
I smile weakly through the coughing fit, nodding before leaning my head back against the couch. My eyes move to the TV and I watch two best friends stare at each other. Of course, she would be watching some queer movie. Part of me wants to get up and leave, but a larger part of me can’t. So, instead, I watch with rapt attention. The kiss is so tentative at first, so testing, and the way they film it makes me feel like I’m personally involved. Like I’m the one being hesitant and curious.
I almost feel creepy intruding on this kiss. Shit, maybe the weed is hitting me already. I’m not sure how to feel about it. I’ve never really been in a situation where I’ve watched two women together…not since the other night. I was shocked when I woke up to moaning, even more so when I watched a woman’s bare ass thrust into Maggie. It took my sleepy mind more than a few seconds to realize how she was doing it and when I did, I realized Maggie’s eyes were on me. I ran out of there immediately and tried to banish the memory completely.
It's still there from time to time, though.
I can’t help but swallow roughly as the kiss on the screen turns more passionate before I feel a set of eyes on me. I turn to see Maggie watching me curiously. There isn’t an ounce of judgment in her gaze, she doesn’t say anything, and her face is pretty blank of emotion. All that remains is the fairest hint of intrigue.
I can officially feel the buzz from the weed. It spreads from my face to my toes. Shit, Brad was right. This is strong stuff. Definitely not like the shit he used to give me when I was a teenager.
Maggie takes another puff from her joint as her fingers play with the ends of my hair. It’s not much of a reach. My hair goes down to my ass and because I was coughing, she’s only a foot or two away from me now. I’ve definitely been touched more intimately, but something about her fingers running through my hair has every nerve of my body acutely aware of the touch.
When Maggie releases the smoke from her mouth, it billows around me, but I don’t fight it. I let it cloud the room, wrapping us up into a little bubble.
“Can I ask you something?” She questions.
I hesitate for a moment before nodding.
“How much did you see?”
I don’t respond for a moment as she continues.
“I mean, you were asleep when we came into the tent. What woke you up?”
I don’t know why, but I answer, even if I shouldn’t.
“I woke up to moaning. I didn’t know what was going on at first and then…”
“You did?” Maggie guesses.
I shrug.
She sits there for a moment, taking another puff and blowing it out.
“For a moment there, I thought you were going to stick around and watch us,” she says.
For a moment, so did I.
Not like I’d ever admit that. I can barely admit it to myself. I blame it on the undiagnosed concussion from the fight. The deliriousness of my sleep deprived ass.
Maggie offers the joint to me, but I shake my head in response and she lifts it to her mouth again. My eyes follow her closely, unable to stop. I can’t help but hyperfixate on her lips. Most of the time, she wears black lipstick, completing her alt goth vibe. Not tonight, though. Tonight, her lips are a natural shade of pink with a soft shiny layer to it. I don’t even think it’s gloss. Probably just lip balm or something.
As they wrap around the thin paper, I’m suddenly made aware of how full they are. Not in an injections way but in a ‘I was naturally born with perfect lips’ kind of way. They look so soft with a deep cupid’s bow that most women have to overline to achieve. She’s a huge contrast to her mother, who looks like she has her plastic surgeon on speed dial. There is a difference between maintenance and full on plastic surgery overhaul. You have to know when to take a break or stop all together. Clearly Calista hasn’t found that line.
Not Maggie, though. She has these huge tits and full lips with a picture perfect heart shaped ass, and she was just born like that? Just born perfect? Must be nice.
My eyes flick down to her shirt, her tank top practically straining against them. I don’t stare at women’s chests by any means, but you’d have to be an idiot to not recognize that Maggie is blessed. Drawing my gaze back to her eyes, my gaze finds her staring at me, her mouth still wrapped around that joint before she pulls it away.
I don’t know if it’s the weed, the unusual tension in the room, or the fact that I’m lonely as fuck, but I find myself inching towards her. Not much, just a bit. The movement must have been all Maggie needed, though, because her hand playing with my hair moves up, gripping the base of my neck before dragging me towards her. I resist for only a second before I let her lips touch mine.
Sparks flash behind my eyes, my stomach flipping, and my pussy pulsing once as her soft lips move against mine. She works my mouth open, blowing the smoke into my mouth. It nearly chokes me, but I suck it in, holding it in my lungs as Maggie’s tongue strokes against mine. It takes everything in me not to whimper, and when Maggie’s hand grips my hip, dragging me closer to her, reality slams into me.
My eyes fly open and I push her away, coughing up smoke, rushing to my feet and running for my room. I’ve lost my goddamn mind, I swear. This is why I don’t smoke weed. This shit is the worst. It messes with your mind in the absolute worst way. Fuck this.