Deep, heavy sigh. I can already see the writing on the wall. “I don’t have anything to wear and your parents will hate me.” Jumping out of bed, I tuck the phone between my shoulder and ear and rifle through all three possible options. All of which are black.
“They won’t hate you.” I don’t fail to notice that he says nothing else to assure me of a warm welcome. “I can’t deal with them right now. Not alone. I just…” Trailing off, he takes a deep breath. His exhaustion is so palpable it’s coming through the phone and it pains me. I can’t even fathom dreading spending time with my parents. “…can’t. I need you. I’m asking you as my friend.”
Straight to the heart. His words hit me straight in the heart muscle. That sweet voice asking me to be there for him spells game over for me. I’m a goner. I can’t say no to him. Not now and, I suspect, not ever––a fact he never needs to know.
“Give me thirty minutes.” My voice dies on the last vowel. I sound like a total downer. I know I do, and yet it can’t be helped. I’ve heard enough about his parents to be legit terrified of those people.
They gave up on their son, wrote him off like he was a bad investment they needed to dump. Who does that? Who gives up on their son when he’s battling an addiction? And two doctors, no less. I think of all the times my parents have bent over backwards to help me when they had nothing to give, and it leaves me cold and so very grateful. If those people have no sympathy for their own son, what could they possibly think of me?
“I’ll text when I’m outside,” he answers, suddenly perky.
“Yeah. Fine.”
Reagan
It’s not fair to ask Alice to play buffer between me and my parents. I know it’s not, but what happened with Brian is still weighing heavily on me and I’m in no shape to fend off my father today. Two, possibly three uninterrupted hours of him trying to bully me into choosing surgery are coming my way and I don’t want this to be the day he finally pushes me over the edge. She keeps me centered, makes me feel like everything isn’t spinning out of control. Even when it is.
I texted Alice a minute ago and didn’t get a reply. I’m about to jump out of the Jeep and knock on her door when she steps out.
Ho-ly-shit.
I push my shades up to the top of my head to get a better look while Alice wraps one arm across her body and grips the opposite elbow––something she does when she’s nervous, I’ve noticed. She rolls her eyes and the pale skin on her cheeks turns pink.
“Looking good, Jersey.”
Her dress is not really showing any skin. Sexy isn’t the way I’d describe it. It’s black and sleeveless and falls right above her knees. But it grips her curves the way I’d like to grip her…
Better not go there. Maybe this was a bad idea. I’m full of them lately. Like that godforsaken kiss. Probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. It even tops letting Dallas talk me and the rest of the team into posing nude for a calendar that raised funds for an animal shelter he supports. I spent thousands of dollars trying to scrub that picture off the Internet. I’ll never forget that phone call from my father.
“Why am I staring at a picture of your hairless balls?”
No greeting. Straight for the throat. He’d caught one of the nurses on his floor looking at it on her phone. It would’ve gone over real well with medical school admissions officers too. This is much worse than that.
Imagining kissing Alice is one thing. Actually knowing what her soft, pillowy lips feel like is another. Way to torture myself. Every night since then I’ve fallen asleep with my dick in my hand and thoughts of those lips everywhere else. And that one kiss is going to have to suffice because she didn’t seem to be affected at all. Took it all in stride, telling me it only happened because I was upset.
Bullshit.
I knew exactly what I was doing. And screwed everything up in the process. All that one kiss did was whet my appetite. I want more now, so much more, and I don’t know how to get out of the box I put myself in.
Pushing her chin-length dark hair behind her ear, she gives me a shy smile that speaks directly to my balls. They draw up tight. Then my dick gets involved, trying to wave back. Thank God these pants have pleats.
After adjusting my khakis, I jump out of the driver’s seat and go to open her door. My father might be an asshole, but he’s an asshole with manners and he forced those manners on both my brother and me. She gets in and buckles up while I slide behind the wheel without once taking my eyes off of her.
“Is this okay?” she asks as she tugs on the hem of the dress.
It’s pretty obvious she’s uncomfortable so I make it a point to check out the dress, the hair, the shoes. She’s wearing flats. “Perfect.”
She smirks and looks ahead.
Alice isn’t my usual type. I date girls that like to do what I do. Hang out at the beach, surf, play beach volleyball. I date beach bunnies and athletes. Not girls that prefer to be indoors and hide from the sun.
But damn if she hasn’t changed what my type is.
Alice
Wearing a crisp white dress shirt, tapered navy slacks, and driving loafers, Reagan looks like he stepped out of an IG male model feed. He’s so jaw-dropping handsome I’m trying not to stare. Or drop a jaw. And especially extra mortifying, I’m pretty sure I look concussed.
I take circumspect inventory of what I’m wearing and suddenly determine I look like I’m wearing a Halloween costume. My black sleeveless jersey dress and my black ballerinas have always been my go-to outfit when I’m in New York and need to go somewhere that requires something other than my ripped skinny jeans. I thought I was okay. I thought I looked good…I don’t think that any more.
“Are you sure this outfit is okay?” I tug on the high neckline, which is presently feeling like a noose around my neck.
“It’s great,” he says, smiling.
“Great if I were trying to look like Wednesday Adams? That kind of great, or just great in general?”
Am I fishing for a compliment? Maybe. My ego is going to need the boost if I have to stand next to him all day.
Reagan’s green smiling eyes meet my worry-filled ones. “Just great.” He reaches over and squeezes my thigh. It happens so quickly had anyone else done it I probably wouldn’t have noticed.
Except––it’s Reagan.
Which means the feeling is exponentially more meaningful. To me, that is. I’ll probably spend the next hour dissecting this action ad nauseum whereas he couldn’t be more oblivious to it. He must’ve sensed me stiffen because he side-eyes me briefly. The look on his face tells me he’s wondering why I’m acting so strangely.
“Who will be at your parents’ house?” I inquire, anything to distract him from this growing awkwardness between us.
“Some family friends. Maybe the Richardsons…I’m not sure––” He glances my way again and a frown forms on his face. “Is that okay?”
Before I can put a stop to it, the truth inadvertently spills out. “I’m always okay when I’m with you.” And the second I realize how it sounds, I flush red-hot, embarrassment crawling all over me at the prospect of being found out.
On the edge of my vision, I see Reagan’s head come around. Stare locked on to my profile, expression indecipherable. In the meantime, I do everything to avoid eye contact. And being the good guy that he is, he doesn’t press me on the matter.
Chapter 21
Reagan
This was selfish of me. The closer we get to my parents’ house on Roxbury Dr. the more I realize it, the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach growing stronger as the miles shrink.
We pull in the driveway of the restored 1930s Spanish-style house I grew up in and glance over in time to catch Alice’s eyes widen and her lips part as she takes it all in.
“Wow,” she whispers.
A massive explosion of bougainvillea vines in every shade of pink and coral carpet the front of the house, covering the white stucco all the way to the red tiled roof.
“It took them years to fix it up.”
“I wish I’d brought my camera.”
Eyeing the Jaguar parked next to the detached six-car garage, I say, “My parents’ friends are here. I used to date their daughter in high school.”
Alice examines my face. “Oh, okay…right,” she begins awkwardly. It’s then I realize my mistake. “Are you uncomfortable having me here with them?”
“No!” bursts out of me. “Jesus. No. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable if they bring Jordan’s name up. Both our parents were pushing for more and they have a tendency to harp on about it.”
“Rea, the only people that can make me feel uncomfortable or hurt my feelings are the ones I care about.” She gives me a pointed look, no doubt referring to my dick move in front of the shady guy. “I’ll be fine.”
This girl kills me. I get lost staring at the soft pillow of her bottom lip, the way it gets really full in the middle and tapers on the sides. I want to kiss her so badly again it’s painful. Physically fucking painful.
“Rea?”
Her voice snaps me out of my staring jag. “Yeah, let’s do this.”
We make our way up the steps to the carved mahogany front door and Lionel, my parents’ estate manager for the past ten years, is already holding it open. He must’ve seen us on the security cameras. Not a moment after he greets us, my mother is advancing down the hallway, headed straight for us, heels clicking all the way.
“There’s my baby. I see you’re still not wearing sunscreen.”
With her short blonde hair and line-free face, my mom looks half her age. She’s about Alice’s height, maybe a little thinner. The only feature we share are her eyes. People have even mistaken me for her boyfriend.
She hugs me quickly, cups my face, and let’s go even faster. My mother is a nervous person. Brisk movements, quick smiles, fast talking. It’s just how she is. Her keen stare shifts to Alice who’s been standing quietly to the side watching us. “And who’s this? A friend?”