Chapter Fifteen #2
When I look back at Brooks and Brody again, they look like they could kill him, and it makes me laugh.
A burst of a chuckle rips through me before I shake my head. “Sorry.”
Brody growls, tipping me over onto Brooks’ lap since I’m caught in my shirt before he slaps my ass and a bit of my exposed pussy.
I gasp, but he winks. “What’d I say about that word?”
“Brute” is all I offer, watching him lick the tip of his fingers.
Good god. Can we just fuck already?
It’s been half a day (two hours). But instead of complaining, I kick my legs off the couch and stand up. “It’s my turn again.”
I’m smiling at Wells because he’s very pleased with himself as I walk over and peruse, secretly trying to see if I can remember any scratches or bumps on the blocks that I wrote dirty dares on.
I’m not above cheating. But luck isn’t on my side because I can’t tell one block from the next. With a disappointed sigh, I just pick one, hoping it’ll have everybody stripping down.
But as I look down, my brows draw together. Who the fuck wrote this?
My head lifts, and I look between the three of them before I say, “Dare: Role-play a scene from your favorite movie.”
Brody laughs as he starts massaging the back of Brooks’ neck. Their eyes meet as Brody says, “That was you, right?”
“Yes,” Wells answers for him.
I drop my eyes to Wells, who’s looking up, his Adam’s apple protruding, making me think about how he swallows.
And I don’t mean water.
“So…” Wells draws out. “What’s your favorite movie, Cherry?”
“Brooks,” I snap, staring straight at him. “You have to be serious.”
He’s the worst. We’ve been at this dare for fifteen minutes, and he still hasn’t admitted to writing it, but it was his handwriting.
“I’m sorry,” he chuckles out before motioning his hand in front of his face like a professional actor.
I can’t with him right now. I bite my lip, trying not to laugh.
He looks back at me with a more solemn expression. “Okay. I’m done. I’m in it.”
The fact that we’re all doing this might mean that we’ve developed a psychosis. But we’re in it now, so there’s no looking back.
My head whips to Wells, his green eyes popping open. “Don’t look at me like that.” He holds up his phone, showing me a video of my favorite movie. “I’m doing character research. I’m locked in.”
I glance at Brooks again. “You should be more like your boyfriend.”
But he counters with, “I’m the winner who’s seen Fear.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I whisper to myself before I turn my attention away from him.
“You know you could’ve lied about your favorite movie,” Brooks adds, making me slow turn my head to his profile again.
“I also could have made us really commit and drive an hour to the Santa Monica Pier.”
He lifts his hands as if to say, fair, before we all face the front door together.
“Okay, go,” I yell so Brody can hear us on the other side.
Suddenly, there’s banging as if someone’s trying to break down the door. It’s hard enough that my shoulders jump.
Brooks lifts his voice, trying to make himself sound like a woman. But his voice cracks, making Wells and me almost die laughing, but Brooks commits.
“Don’t open the door, Nicole. You can’t. We’ll be killed by the nice boy I kind of wanted to hump while he carried my plants.”
My hand slaps over my mouth before I smack his shoulder. It’s of no use. He’s having the time of his life, grinning down at me.
So I turn to Wells with a scared look on my face that keeps breaking into a smile.
He grabs my shoulders. “It’s okay, Nicole. Daddy will protect you.”
The minute he says it, I scrunch up my face and say, “Eww. So gross.” But Wells pulls me into his chest like he’s hugging me, only really just shutting me up.
“Don’t talk to your father that way. Even if I’m a fucking perv who stares at your underage friend’s ass. I’ll still protect you because your virginity’s inappropriately important to me. Just don’t open the door.”
They are ruining this movie for me. Mainly because I can’t stop laughing.
But I use it and pretend to cry. Brooks yanks me from Wells, wrapping me in his arms now.
“Oh, Nicole, I’m sorry I was a terrible stepmother,” he rushes out in an even more terrible version of a woman’s voice. “I take back calling you a slut because you wore lip gloss. I understand now that you were just in love with a psycho. It’s not your fault. That’s on girlhood.”
Jesus Christ. Tears are streaming down my face because I can’t stop laughing. This is the silliest shit I’ve ever done.
Wells’ voice thunders as he smacks the front door. “You’re not getting in this house, David. It’ll be over my dead body.”
The guys don’t have a traditional peephole. They have a speakeasy grate. So as we all get closer to the door, I open the latch to a view of Brody.
His eyes lock to mine, and for two seconds, I’m suddenly in the movie.
He rushes the door and yells, “Lemme in the fuckin’ house.”
I scream, jump scared, followed by Brooks. But Wells swipes me up with one arm, carrying me backward.
“So you’re just gonna let me die?” Brooks dramatizes as I giggle. “You’re on the couch for life, hubby.”
In the middle of his ad lib, the front door bursts open, and Brody walks in.
He stands in the doorway, breathing heavily in a pair of jeans, white Calvin Klein underwear, and a backward cap.
It was his idea after I showed them clips of the movie. But I still can’t believe he owned it all. And I’m simultaneously grateful because hot.
He charges forward like he’s coming for me, and I shriek as Brooks throws up his arms, speaking in an even higher voice and also Southern for some reason.
“Leave my baby alone.”
I’m laughing too hard watching him run in circles, pretending to panic, as Wells is trying to protect me, but he’s basically just swinging my legs at Brody, who keeps yelling, “Nicole,” like he’s Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire.
Brody finally gives up and walks over to the coffee table, grabbing a black marker and tossing the cap across the room.
“No,” I rush out, fairly certain I’ve pulled a muscle from laughing too hard. “It’s a permanent marker.”
He looks up at me, keeping his voice that soft nineties bad-boy vibe as he says, “Like our love.”
Then I watch as he pretends to scratch NICOLE 4 EVA across his stomach. He even grunts like it’s painful.
Except he can’t see what he’s doing. So it reads more like ELOCIN 9 AVE.
Wells finally breaks, and Brooks follows. They join me in a fit of laughter that won’t stop. But Brody stays in character. Or maybe he switches movies because he sounds more like Joe Pesci than Mark Wahlberg.
“Oh, I’m funny? My love amuses you?”
He’s stalking toward us. But instead of protecting me, Wells holds me in place by my waist. Brody closes the last few feet of distance with a little jog before he sweeps me up in his arms and tosses me right over his shoulder.
My hands hit the small of his back as I look up to see Brooks and Wells trailing behind. They’re stripping down, sluttily taking off shirts and basketball shorts.
I’m carried straight to the bedroom and tossed on the bed.
Breathless and turned on, I stare back at them. The three of them stand at the edge, each individually fucking gorgeous, but as a unit—godlike.
I sit up with my feet on the bed before I slowly spread my legs open, stretching the shirt between my legs as I arch my back and lift my chin.
“This isn’t the way the movie ends. The bad guy doesn’t win.”
My gaze lands on Wells, who’s looking at me with so much hunger in his eyes that it makes me shiver.
“But since we’re doing a rewrite,” I add, “why don’t one of you show me how to fuck someone…” I pull back the shirt, exposing my pussy. “And, guys, I’m a visual learner. So go slow.”