Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
WHAT DID YOU DO, JUNIPER?
Dash
The group chat is always pretty active, but on days we have plans, it’s nonstop. The banter flows between Juniper and Sterling, and I find myself scrolling through their messages wearing a smirk, laughing to myself while Keanu thinks I’m crazy.
They have so much rapport, sometimes I feel like my texts curb their flow, and that they’d be in pure bliss without me as their reminder that we’re all just friends.
Without me, they’d be forced to acknowledge that sizzling chemistry they have.
I glance down at the screen, catching up on the messages I missed during my last traffic stop.
Juniper
I was thinking we go out to eat after bowling, at the nice Italian place in town.
I laugh at the very first message, because there's a thinly veiled joke in there. One only Bluebellers could get.
There is no Italian place in Bluebell. But on Thursdays, Goode’s Diner makes spaghetti and breadsticks, and puts red and white checkered tablecloths out. They even use those red mercury glass candles at each table, and dim the overhead lights to make it feel as Italian as cowboy country can get.
Sterling
Ah, so a spritz of my finest cologne is calling.
Juniper
Only the very best for high-end Italian, of course.
Shall I wear my ball gown?
Sterling
Yes. I’ll pick it up from the cleaners when I’m getting my hat and tails.
An image of Juniper in a floor-length silk gown, her golden hair swept up in that fancy way women do, her lips painted red, her arm curled around Sterling’s, her body dwarfed by his as he leads her through a reception, everyone clapping and cheering for them.
Keanu’s door slamming closed keeps me from drifting into a sad fantasy. “Here,” he says, passing me an ice-cold Coke.
I crack it open and take a sip, the cool buzz of caffeine easing the sting of seeing them together in my mind. “Thanks,” I tell Keanu as I slip the can into the cupholder and write back.
Sounds Goode.
See what I did there?
We’ll pick you up at the normal time, Juni.
I stash my phone away before anyone can respond, because I can get lost in a text with the two of them all day. On the way to a call about a chicken stuck in a fence, my mind wanders back to last night.
Sterling was going to tell me something, I’m fairly sure.
From one big thing to another, my mind circles that fateful knock, and Juniper showing up covered in blood, tears in her eyes, panic racking her body.
What happened last night?
And why, as much as I love Juniper with my entire heart and soul, does my brain keep circling back to the same question— What did she do?
I grab at the back of my neck as Keanu steers the cruiser onto a dirt road. Letting dispatch know we’ve arrived on scene, I silence the radio clipped to my chest. With the sun at my back and a breeze keeping me cool, I talk with the citizen while Keanu wrestles a grouchy cock free from a wire fence.
Not a lot of crime happens in Bluebell, which is precisely why I wanted to come here. And today, crime is the only thing on my mind. The woman tells me about her rooster woes, and all I can think about is Juniper and how the amount of blood on her last night far outweighed what a slice on her palm could produce.
I want to let it go. To trust she’ll tell us when it’s right, and take solace in the fact I’ll feel so silly when I find out it was just her palm, nothing more. Nothing sinister. Nothing criminal.
But I can’t help but watch the woman talk about chickens all the while wondering… What did you do, Juniper?
If I weren’t so hyperfocused on the state in which Juniper came to our place last night, I would have done the smart thing and jerked off in the shower.
Last night, after watching Sterling touch her so softly but also so perfectly, making her toes curl immediately, I knew I’d be jerking off a lot in the days to come. But then I got invited. I got to touch Juniper in a place I’ve only ever seen with my eyes closed in a dark room. She was so soft and so responsive, each stroke of my thumb over her clit had her back arching, her eyes rolling, moans rising off her full lips. She came for us, and we made her come together, both of those things erotic to me in very different ways.
As I towel the dampness from my hair, looking down at my raging erection standing against my stomach, the head leaving a smear of precum in my happy trail, I realize I fucked up. But the click of the front door, followed a moment later by the click of a bedroom door, tells me I’m too late.
Sterling is home.
And as important as relieving the sexual tension in my groin is before we go bowling and have dinner, it feels more important to talk to Sterling.
Because I haven’t been able to shake the weight of the unknown all day. Something happened with Juniper… and it’s festering inside me.
I take my time getting dressed, running the comb through my hair more times than I normally would. A spritz of cologne on my neck and wrists comes before I try on a few different pairs of jeans, ultimately going for the ones with the small stain on the pocket. Juni gave me a sharpie once when I was helping her set up her booth at the farmers market, and at some point the cap came off. When she noticed and shot her hand down my pocket, rubbing a wet cloth on the outside, I realized that the pen coming uncapped brought me physically closer to Juni than I’d ever been. I got a hard-on as she scrubbed at the unmoving dark spot.
They’re now my lucky jeans.
After pulling on a hoodie and slipping into my Sambas, I finally make my way out to the shared living space, hoping to have timed it just right, hoping that Sterling will be showered and dressed.
Except the space is empty, so I swipe a beer from the fridge, put some food and water out for the yellow dog who has been living in our garage and yard, then settle in at the couch, flicking on a sports game I have zero interest in. My pulse skips at the click of his door opening, and even if we’d moved into this house together at the same time, it makes sense that a man like Sterling has the big suite. He treads down the hall, broad chest and wide shoulders controlling the space as soon as he’s in it. At six-foot-five, he doesn’t just dwarf Juni, but me too. My solid six-foot height feels small next to a man as commanding as he is.
I take a pull of cold beer, my eyes hungrily perusing his bare chest. But when I find him watching me, my eyes snap to the Fenway poster above the TV.
“Hey, man,” he greets, reaching for his own beer from the fridge. The towel folded into itself at his waist splits, and I’ve never been so envious of the inside of a fridge, I swear. It gets to see everything that towel is covering, if only for a split second. But that’s a split second longer than I’ve ever had.
“Hey,” I say, finishing my beer too quickly. I catch a belch with the back of my hand and force my eyes on his.
“I’ll be ready in a few,” he says, his bicep bulging as he twists the cap from the beer. The heavy glug of his throat working down the alcohol makes bumps rise up on the back of my neck, and my balls tingle.
“Okay,” I rasp, my voice sounding thin and hoarse, like he just told me to roll on a condom or something. Then he disappears, the same click of his door that excited me now gets me to my feet.
He’s getting dressed. He never takes long, but it’s long enough. You have five minutes.
So much for not jerking off.
After Sterling in a towel, I need it. And it will only take a minute.
Or less.
I set my empty on the counter and tread down the hall, veering off to my room. Twisting the lock, I toss a pillow at the bottom of the door to absorb any stray noises, and get to work on my pants. With my jeans banded in haste around my thighs, I snatch up the picture from next to my bed and grip the base of my erection with my free hand.
The photo is the three of us, Juniper in the middle. She’s dressed in a monkey costume, with Sterl and me in banana suits. It was last Halloween. We gave out candy at the nursing home, and helped Juniper host a talent show among the senior citizens. I didn’t think it would be fun, but it was one of the best nights of my life.
I pinch my gaze on her wide smile as I pump my fist down my shaft, precum already dripping, catching on my fist. Her mouth is beautiful; the best shape, makes the sweetest smile, so perfect. I can’t help but imagine that mouth split open, Sterling’s cock sliding onto her tongue, mine next to his.
Heat blooms at the base of my spine, slowly working through my hips, centering in my groin. Quickly, with my cock in my hand, I drop the framed photo to the bed and snatch a t-shirt from the floor.
Tossing it out to catch my cum, I resume pumping myself, this time my eyes veering to the other person in the photo.
I’ve always loved the way Sterling towers over us, and how his cheeks get pinker than most when he’s winded or excited. I wonder if he flushes when he fucks, and what sounds he makes when he finishes. Does he grunt? Is he capable of filthy, dirty words?
I look back at Juni, then over at myself. Closing my eyes, I see the three of us together, Sterling and I both inside of her, all of us sweaty, our love entwined in more ways than I ever thought imaginable. She clenches around us, making us finish together, his hot release sliding along my shaft as I throb and pulse with him.
My eyes pop open as the first thick ribbon of cum splashes over the t-shirt. I stroke myself, emptying every drop I have as I stare at the photo of all three of us.
My breathing levels as a familiar click makes my spine straighten. Sterling’s hand knocks into my closed door. “I’m ready.”
“Me too,” I shoot back, wiping my hand in the t-shirt, making sure all traces of you make me so hot I have to jerk before we hang out are gone and done. Guiltily, I replace the picture next to my bed, toss the shirt in the hamper, and head out of my room, meeting Sterling in the kitchen where he’s drinking a fresh beer.
In a navy blue hoodie and faded blue jeans, his feet tucked into brown boots, my stomach flips a little. I love him in jeans and a hoodie, but because it’s weird to have a favorite outfit for your straight male roommate, I keep it to myself and grab another beer, too.
“About the other night,” Sterling starts, his focus on me suddenly intense.
Then his phone vibrates. A moment later mine dings. Our eyes lock. At the same time, we check our group text message thread.
Juniper
Sorry but I have to cancel. Another night.
I set my full beer down on the counter and cautiously reread the message before looking up at Sterling. He wears the same confused and concerned expression.
“She’s been excited for tonight,” Sterling notes.
“She shined her ball,” I recall, noting the photo she sent in the text of her shiny pink bowling ball, finally scuff free. “She was really excited.” We both know her well enough to know that she was excited all day, even if we only talked to her through text message.
Pacing a few steps, I stop, sifting my hands through my hair, my nerves a mess. I can’t sit and wonder. That’s not why I became a cop. “Let’s go find her and find out what’s going on.”
Sterling’s mouth opens and closes, and I assume he’s searching for faults or flaws in my plan, thinking it over a bit before jumping. That’s something I like about him—how much thought he puts into everything for the people he cares about.
“Go find her,” he repeats a few seconds later, stretching the words out as if to find a secret subtext.
“Yeah,” I say, adrenaline soaring through me at the idea of having a plan, somewhere to go, something to do other than sit and fucking wonder. “Let’s go find her.”
He volleys his head, eyes glued to the floor as he studies the tile while in thought. He shoves a hand through his hair, a trace of sweat glimmering on his forehead. Invading his space, I take a step toward him and drop an unexpected hand onto his wide, warm shoulder. His hazel eyes lock on mine. The smell of beer and toothpaste makes the back of my neck prick with heat.
“She was bloody last night, she showed up with a dog and she canceled on bowling tonight.” I shake my head, holding his eyes with mine. “We have her on Find Friends. We need to go talk to her and find out what’s going on. For her sake as much as ours.” His eyes flit between mine, dropping to my lips for just a split second before he shirks out of my grasp.
Snatching his keys off the counter, he says, “Okay. You’re right. Let’s go find her and… see what’s going on.”
We share one last look before heading out of the house and into his truck. And we don’t talk about the sting passing between us for the last day.
If I can go this long without mentioning it, what’s a little longer?