Co-WRECKER

  Clearing my throat, I shrug. “I don’t know, I think she’s coming around.”

  Yeah, coming around my cock. Or my tongue. Or my fingers. Cough.

  Wait, scratch that. Erase said tool-bag comment from your memory. That was douchebag material at its finest. Fuck, Blaine is encroaching on my brain. His douche is rubbing off on me.

  Oh hell, his douche sounds like I’m saying his vagina cleanser is soaking into my pores. Just eliminate this whole rabbit trail from your memory. Thanks.

  “Yeah? What approach have you been taking?” Why is Mae eyeing me like that, as if she knows something?

  Treading lightly, I say, “You know, smiles and easy conversations. Pretty sure I’m starting to break her down with conversations about baseball.”

  Mae and Jimmy both look at each other, exchanging knowing glances, and then train their eyes back on mine. Why I do feel some sort of ninja attack forming?

  “You totally had sex with her,” Jimmy says.

  “What?” I ask, completely flummoxed. Yes, flummoxed! “How, why . . . how did you know?” I twirl around in my chair, looking at my clothes. “Is there a condom attached to me that I don’t see?”

  Bursts of laughter come from Jimmy and Mae as they high-five each other. When their celebration dies down, Jimmy says, “Dude, we had no idea. We just asked to see what you would say.” He laughs some more. “Damn, I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay just friends with her, but to have already had sex with her, maybe Dad is right. Maybe you do have some sort of sex addiction.”

  “I do NOT have a sex addiction.” My voice is rising with each passing word. Fuck, I should have known it was a trick. Jimmy and Mae are not that observant.

  “Yeah? Well, then explain yourself.”

  I rub my hands over my face, my brow permanently pinched from having this conversation. I shouldn’t have to explain to Jimmy and Mae about what happened, but they are also pretty much my only friends in the area, so I don’t want to burn that bridge.

  “Sadie’s friend invited me to a party out in the woods. I went, got a little drunk, and she drove my truck back to her place because I passed out in the cab before I could tell her where I lived. I ended up using her toothbrush without permission, then passing out in her bed, where I woke up the next morning, feeling up her breast, thinking it was an orange at first. I thought I was done after that but apparently she liked my orange-squeezing skills, and she started dry humping me. Her friend interrupted us. I was forced to go out her window, boner waving in the air, but not before I clinched a date for that night. I wooed her with a little baseball, brought her back to my place, and we had sex. Okay, Jesus.” I take a deep breath and await their questions.

  They come flying at me before I can begin to start thinking how to respond.

  “You used her toothbrush without asking?”

  “You thought her tits were oranges? Come on, bro.”

  “Dry humping seems very extreme for a boob grab. What kind of morals does this girl have?”

  “Did your boner get in the way of the steering wheel when you were driving home that morning?”

  “Yeah, did it?”

  “And what kind of sex are we talking about? Drunk, or totally cognizant?”

  “Did you cuddle her at night?”

  “Did you think her tits were grapefruits the next morning?”

  “Yeah, did you?”

  They bounce up and down, happy about their questions, not even bothering to look apologetic for their invasion on my privacy. Or Sadie’s for that matter. These two have been together for too long.

  Taking a deep breath, I answer their questions in succession. “Yes, I used her toothbrush; it was pink in case you were wondering. Yes, I thought her tits were oranges; I was hungover and had no idea where I was or what I was touching. Dry humping is never too extreme, and Sadie has good morals, at least I think she does. Driving with a boner proved to be successful. The sex was cognizant and fucking good. I cuddled the fuck out of her and when I woke up, and I did not assault her tits looking for grapefruit.” Round one complete. I know these two. I know there will be a second barrage of questions. Another round. Deep breath, Andrew.

  “Well that’s a relief.” Mae chuckles. “A girl never likes to be milked unexpectedly.”

  “Didn’t think it was a pleasant experience for you ladies.”

  Jimmy turns to Mae and says, “For the record, I don’t mind you milking my dick. You can do it anytime, anyplace you want.”

  “Why am I not surprised by that statement?” Mae rolls her eyes and throws her empty sundae cup into the trash. Coming up next to me, she pats me on the shoulder and says, “Friends was never in the cards for you, Andrew. I just hope she sees the good in you, despite your collection of pet rocks.”

  “Those are at my parents’,” I state, wanting to make it quite clear that they didn’t make the college move.

  When Mae leaves, Jimmy leans over the counter with a smirk on his face. “I fucking knew you would never just be friends with this girl.”

  “Yeah, I should have known as well.” I sigh. “She’s too special just to be friends. She’s a one-of-a-kind girl.”

  “Shit.” Jimmy sits up. “You like her.”

  “Yeah, I fucking do,” I answer, not trying to hide it from Jimmy. Besides, he has Mae, so he gets it. I like Sadie more than I think I should. Although, I’m still not sure if that is a good thing of bad thing . . .

  Chapter Fifteen

  SADIE

  “Wow, could you have picked a more obscure place?” Andrew asks, looking around at The Spot Diner, a hidden gem in the tri-state area.

  I could say I came here for their phenomenal pie selection, or for the dim lighting, or the quirky and fun waitstaff, but that would be a lie. I wanted to go somewhere with Andrew that I knew was off the beaten path of my friend group. Plus, they’re open late at night.

  Last time I talked to Smilly about Andrew, we were sharing a dozen donuts on her car. We left it at he’s fun, but I never went into detail about my intentions, or about seeing him again. And I don’t think I can. Every time I think about telling her the truth, my mouth turns dry, and a wave of anxiety takes over me.

  As much as she just wants me to be happy, I know she’s pulling for Tucker and me to work through things. I can’t blame her. When Tucker and I were together, we did all the fun couple things we always talked about. Tucker and Saddlemire would relentlessly tease us girls, while we would make the men eat their words if they ever wanted to see our clothes on the floor again. We were the perfect little foursome. Smilly’s been there during the bad times, though, so I often wonder why she can only see one side of the awesome foursome. It wasn’t always good.

  But then everything changed the moment I dropped out of school, throwing our adequate worlds for a loop. It hasn’t been the same since. Even Saddlemire and Tucker’s friendship has struggled.

  From across the table, Andrew lifts my chin with two fingers, forcing me to look him in those sincere eyes of his. “Hey, where did you go then? Did you even hear my story about the alien?”

  Err, alien?

  “Uh . . .” I drag out.

  Laughing, he sits back in his chair, his hands resting on the table. “I’m going to take that as a no. Would you like me to repeat it, or are you that bored with me that I should call you a cab right now so we can avoid the whole awkward phone call from Smilly saying she’s been in an accident and needs your help?”

  I chuckle and shake my head. “Not bored at all. Sorry, had a rabbit trail of thoughts. Tell me all about this alien.”

  “What can I get you?” the waitress asks, interrupting Andrew before he can even get started.

  “Coffee for both us, right, Sugar Britches?” He nods at me. I do like his playful side.

  “Yes, coffee,” I say to the waitress. “And I would like a slice of the blueberry pie and the cherry.” Andrew’s eyebrows lift from my order. I shrug my shoulders in response. “You’re paying,” I tease back. br />
  “Is that so? Well, in that case, I’m going to up your order with slices of the Black Forest cake, the sugar-free cheesecake, and a Boston cream pie.”

  “Sounds good, I’ll put that in for you right now.” The waitress leaves us as I stare back at Andrew, questions swarming my head about his order.

  “Sugar free?” I ask.

  Playing with his spoon on the table, he casually says, “I feel prone to get sugar-free things now that we’ve bonded in such an indescribably way. I want to support all sugar-free items.”

  “Isn’t that noble of you,” I tease, still slightly confused as to how someone could bond with something sugar free.

  “Why, thank you.” Leaning forward now, spoon on the table, he rubs his hands together. “Now, do you want to hear my alien story?”

  “Sure,” I giggle, “but I would like to state for the record that I’m not into outer space. I think it’s all a joke. Wasted taxpayer money.”

  A very loud, and very obnoxious gasp comes out of Andrew’s mouth as he sits back in his chair, hand to his chest, as if I just slapped him twice across the face . . . with a moldy tube of salami. “Blasphemy!” He shakes his head. “You have GOT to be fucking kidding me. Right? You’re kidding. You’re not one of those people who think the space program is a waste of money. Right? You love astronauts. You like stars and planets. You wish you could live on the moon for a day. Please tell me you’re kidding, Sadie.” His voice is full of desperation. It’s rather cute.

  I cross my arms and shrug my shoulders.

  Gripping his head now, as if it’s about to explode, his eyes run wild. “I think . . .” he pauses to take a breath, “yup, I think I’m having a panic attack.”

  He isn’t. But the dramatics are spot on.

  I lean across the table and pull his hands away from his head. “Oh, stop it. You’re fine.” Hmm, maybe I really should work on my bedside manner.

  “Sadie,” he pauses and gathers himself, “do you realize the amount of technology and leaps and bounds we’ve made because of the space program?”

  “We beat the Russians to the moon. Yippee.” I twirl my finger in mock excitement.

  “Oh, fuck!” He scoots his chair forward, pushes the table items to the far left, really getting into this conversation. “For a girl who attends Cornell, you are poorly educated.” That’s a slight knife to the heart, but I can’t blame him; he doesn’t know the truth. “Let me ask you this, do you happen to use light-emitting diodes? Also known as LEDs?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, imagine your life without them.”

  “Okay, easy.” I pause to think about it. “Pretty sure I’m living the same life.”

  He shakes his hands and head together to erase that example. “Okay, that was a bad example. Apparently, you don’t care about LEDs like I do. How about artificial limbs? Hmm? Ear thermometers, radial tires, land-mine removal, uh, firefighter gear. And don’t forget about solar panels and temper foam for all the people who need that cozy sleep at night. There is so much more.” The passion in his voice is reaching new levels.

  Thoughtfully looking into the air, I point my finger to the sky and say, “I do like firefighter uniforms, especially when the guy is bare chested and only wearing the pants.”

  “Of course you would think that, you hussy.”

  “Hey!” I smile.

  Throwing his hands up in capitulation, he adds, “You’re the one who humped the fuck out of my dick. Seeming like you put the ho in whore.” He tacks on a mirthful smirk.

  “Good to know.” I nod. “I’ll be sure to remember that when you’re looking to pull my bra off with your teeth tonight.”

  His eyes widen and then points at the table. “Wait, this isn’t dessert? Pussy is on the menu also? Well damn, I should have skipped the Black Forest cake.”

  Speak of the devil, the waitress arrives with a tray full of obnoxiously large desserts we’ll never finish along with our coffee. We have to expertly move items around on the table to get everything to fit, but once we do, Andrew asks, “Is it just pussy, or do I get a topping of nipples too?” He unfolds his cloth napkin and tucks it into the collar of his shirt, right before he pushes his glasses back and holds up his fork.

  He is the most ridiculous man I have ever met. Adorably ridiculous.

  “You’ll be lucky if I don’t text Smilly right now for a distraction.”

  “Ouch.” He dives his fork into his sugar-free cheesecake—blech—and says, “Hitting a guy where it hurts, in his ego. Can’t you take it easy on a fella?”

  “Just tell me your stupid alien story.”

  Mouth full of cheesecake, he shakes his head. “With that kind of attitude, I would rather pass.”

  Rolling my eyes, I pull out my phone and jokingly threaten to text Smilly when he snags it from my hand and puts it on his lap.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you my story.”

  “Thank God.” I try to hide my smile, but it’s no use, he gets me every time.

  His mask of indignation morphs into the face of excited storyteller. “Have you ever been to Pine Bush . . . oh hey-o.” Bouncing in his chair, he brings my phone into view, the vibration shaking in his hand. “That just buzzed my dick and I liked it.” Glancing down at the caller ID, he shoots me a glare. “You told her to call you?”

  I look too and see Smilly’s name on the phone. The burst of laughter that pops out of me is unavoidable, as I shake my head no.

  “Oh my God, that is so funny. I really didn’t tell her to call me. I promise, but let me answer this.”

  “Oh yeah, sure,” he says. “I should probably just say good night right now.”

  “Oh stop.” I hold my finger up to my mouth to motion for him to be quiet as I answer. “Hey, Smilly. What’s up?” His face sours for a second but then he goes back to his cake.

  “Maaaa! What are you doing? I came home to a cold bag of Doritos and a dark apartment. Where are you? Mama needs a drink in her belly. Come pour some Pabst in my mouth.”

  Swallowing hard, I get ready for the lie about to breathe past my lips. “Uh, babysitting the boys,” I say, referring to my two young cousins. “We’re making papier-mâché turtles right now.”

  Where the hell did that come from?

  Andrew’s brow knits together as he confusingly mouths, “Papier-mâché turtles?”

  I put my hand over my mouth to hold back my laugh.

  “You’re papier-mâchéing without me? That’s fucking cold, Sadie. Stop what you’re doing, I’m going to head up there now so I can join in.”

  “No!” I shout, a little too loud. Smilly showing up at my aunt and uncle’s house with spare newspaper and her favorite Modge Podge brush would be a disaster especially since I’m not there. “I, uh . . .” Think, Sadie. This is what you get for lying; just think of something. “The boys are going to bed soon. We are just finishing.”

  “That’s even better. I can come work on their creations when they’re asleep and you can make me pizza bites. I know your aunt keeps them in stock.”

  She does. It’s my weakness when I’m babysitting. Clearly Smilly’s too.

  “She’s all out of bites.”

  “Liar!” That was a really bad lie. “You just want them all to yourself. Don’t be a dirty whore. I’m coming up there.”

  “You can’t,” I say quickly. Across the table, Andrew has his arms crossed over his cut chest, enjoying my obvious struggle.

  “And why not? The only reason I can think of is because you’re being a pizza-bite-hogging whore.”

  “I’m not hogging the pizza bites. I can buy you pizza bites.”

  “No, I don’t want you to buy me pizza bites. They only taste good if stolen from your aunt’s fridge.”

  Probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, but I continue anyway. “I would love to have you over, Smilly, but my aunt and uncle made it quite clear they wanted me to stay for a chat after. A chat about . . . responsibilities.”

  “Oh fuck, I don’t
want any part of that. Okay, I’m out.” There, I knew that would steer her away.

  “Yeah, didn’t think you would want to be a part of such a conversation. Are you going over to Saddlemire’s like you initially planned?”

  “No,” she sighs. “We’re fighting. I told him to shave his Sasquatch foot and he refused. So, I’m going to spend the night binging on Grey’s Anatomy.”

  “Okay, that seems fun.” There goes my plans for dessert dessert—aka, pussy and nipples for Andrew. “I’ll catch you when I’m done here.”

  “Sounds good. Eat extra bites for me.”

  We hang up, and I set my phone on the table just as Andrew starts shaking his head.

  “I can’t believe you had her call you. Was pizza bites the code word for abort the mission?”

  “I did not have her call me.”

  “Sure,” he draws out. “But it’s nice that you’re trying to spare my feelings.”

  Exasperated, I say, “Just tell me your damn alien story.”

  His smile is not the vibrant I-have-to-tell-you-my-story smile from before the phone call. Is it because I blatantly lied to my friend about where I was? It was a shitty thing to do in front of him, but I’m not ready to face an onslaught of questions about Andrew and me yet.

  Although, did I hurt Andrew in the process, trying to safeguard my own situation? Is he angry? I’m about to explain when he seems to rally himself. With a small smile and shake of his head, he looks down at the assortment of desserts before him, and then, as if hunkering down, he gets back into storyteller mode again.

  “It all started with the spotting of a saucer, and I’m not talking about a saucer you set your teacup on . . .”

  This man . . . shit. I can’t help it. I’m really starting to like him. With desserts in front of me, I listen to him speak of his great-grandma’s alien encounter, loving the way his handsome features show excitement with retelling the most absurd story I’ve ever heard. I do. I just like him.

  ***

  “You can drop me off here,” I say as we hit the entrance of my apartment complex. Guilt consumes me from even suggesting it, especially after the amazing night we spent together. We shared stories. Andrew pulled from his childhood, and I talked about my friends, because letting him in on my family life wasn’t happening. We laughed a lot, more than I have in a while, and even acted like teenagers, stealing touches of each other any chance we could get.