F*cking Awkward (14 page)

A
nd she was gone
. No little dots blinked and signaled she was typing or waiting. I was so confused. So hungover. I had snuck out at dark o’clock this morning, while he was still snoozing away. I didn’t get the greatest look at him in the lack of light, but I could see the definition in his arms and back, and the scruff on his face that begged me to trace the line of his jaw. He was sexy. That was a relief, I guess. And I could remember the fact that he was a good kisser, so there’s that. But, he stayed asleep as I crept away. Another relief. I’d arrived home with enough time to shower and guzzle half a pot of strong coffee, right before I left again. Ivy’s magical physical therapist and acupuncturist could fix me, right? Needless to say, I didn’t look great. As instructed, I wore a pair of shorts I could work out in, a sports bra, and a tank top. I hadn’t bothered with makeup and my curls were wildly piled on the top of my head. If this man made me actually exercise at any point, I was sure I’d vomit.

With tunnel vision, I shuffled into the gym where Ivy’s dude was awaiting. It had only taken her six months to convince me to come and get my neck and shoulder sorted out, and as much as I wanted to cancel this morning and go back to bed—my own bed—I knew she’d kill me. Or just drag me here herself. To hear Ivy tell it, the man had magical hands and was the only person who could fix me.

A rush of cold air hit me as I stepped in the front door. A young woman, probably in her early twenties, stood behind the counter and smiled as I approached and introduced herself. She led me to a back room where I sat on a massage table to wait for Michael. Something fleeting crossed my mind as I thought of his name, but it was gone when a knock sounded. The door opened and my jaw hung wide dropped.

Him.

“Hi, Emily,” said dude from last night, his face a tad flushed, which made me feel better about my on fire cheeks. He had short, dark hair and his jaw was scruffy. I wondered if it was always that way, or if he’d felt as rough this morning as I did.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I was going to kill Ivy. Kill. Dead. Smother.

“I’m Michael.”

I blinked three times. Not a ‘J’. The damn dog ran in and jumped up on the table beside me. I stared at it stupidly before looking back at … Michael. He was wearing a soft looking grey T-shirt that hugged his broad chest and did nothing to hide the definition in the muscles underneath it. I couldn’t stop myself from a quick perusal of his body. I remembered those abs. I remembered those arms. Funny how I could remember all of that, but not his name.

“Not Jjj…”

“No.” He laughed. “No J.”

My mouth formed an “O.”

“Listen, Emily, I am … completely embarrassed about last night. And I’d love to talk with you about it”—I never wanted to talk about it—“but—”

The door swung open and the young girl from the front desk entered. Michael cleared his throat and adjusted his posture. His dark eyes, playful and searching a moment ago, went strictly professional in one blink.

“You met Lindsey? She’s interning for the summer, so if you don’t mind, she’ll stay in here during the evaluation.”

I smiled at her. “Of course.”

“Okay,” he said, pulling out a tablet and tapping away on it. “I’m going to ask a few questions about your history, and then we’ll watch some of your movements. After that, we’ll get to work.”

I nodded, trying to slow my whirling mind. The circumstances were really sharpening my mind and bringing me out of the hangover. Speaking of that, how in the fuck was he so chipper?

The evaluation was painless, for the most part, except when I had to walk around while Michael clearly studied my ass. He said he was assessing my hips, but from my perspective, it was my ass. I was having a hard time remaining in professional mode. When he put his hands on me, I tried to hide the quick intakes of breath his touch elicited, despite the worst non-sex of my life. I comforted myself with the knowledge that he had to be ridiculously humiliated. No really. It made me feel better. He went on and on about my hips being the root of all my problems, but he struggled to get the words Obturator Internus or Externus or whatever the fuck it was that I heard him mutter the night before. Those words could kill libido faster than a dog humping your leg. Finally, he stepped away from his scrutiny and gave me some breathing space.

“Alright, Lindsey, I’ll finish up with Emily. Can you go walk Mrs. Delroy through her exercises?”

Lindsey left with a nod, and our buffer was gone. I was sitting on the edge of the table, legs swinging, feet bare, staring at my toes. He stepped up to my knees and placed his hands on them, pushing my thighs apart so he could sidle up between them. I looked up with wide eyes. He glided his hands up my legs, around my hips, and up the sides of my body to tangle his fingers among the wild curls of my hair. My heart skipped a beat and my lips parted when he gazed intently down at me.

“Can we forget last night ever happened, and start over?” he asked.

I shook my head slowly.

“No to forgetting or no to starting over?”

My lips curved into a smile. “What if it was both?”

He leaned closer, and I stopped breathing. “That wasn’t an option.”

His fingers tugged at my scalp and our lips crashed together. His tongue stroked mine without so much as a tease. Our teeth clashed, and I’m sure our gasps could be heard outside. I didn’t care. I wrapped my legs around him, and he grabbed my ass to hitch me closer. Michael’s lips left my mouth and travelled down my neck to nip sharply at my collarbone, and then he rested his forehead on my shoulder, panting heavily.

“Okay. Therapy.”

I wriggled in his arms. “I thought this was therapy.”

He snorted softly. “We’ll get to that.” He drew back, looking in my eyes. “Will you go on a date with me?”

I raised my eyebrows. “A date? Like a real date?”

He smiled, transforming his intense features into something lighter, more playful. “Like the kind where I get to be a gentleman. Where after a nice dinner, you get properly seduced; I take you home and ravish you, sober. Then ask you out again”—he bent and kissed my shoulder where his head had been resting—“and again”—he feathered his lips against the side of my neck—“and again.” He pressed a final kiss to my lips, lingering a moment as he felt me sigh. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Jeremiah.”

Oh hell … What’s in a name anyway? I’ve never been one for labels.

C
M Foss lives
in Virginia with her beautiful family and a shit-ton of goats. Her current titles include Shiver, Swoon, City Beautiful, Jock, and Falling with Style. Keep an eye out for Salt for Sweet, coming this summer. She also drinks wine. Lots of wine.

T
he events
that follow may or may not have happened on a hot summer night a few hours after fifteen year-old Jillian Ross got her first kisses.

W
hat the hell happened tonight
?

Less than an hour ago my entire world shifted. And now Caden and James are hanging out on the diving board like nothing happened while I’m hiding in their family’s bathroom like a wuss.

I peek through the curtains and Caden must notice the movement because he nudges his brother’s shoulder and nods toward the house.
Toward me
.

James raises his arms in a not-so-smooth fake stretch and waves at me. Then he slaps his brother on the back in that universal sign of bro-hood.

This is going to be a long night
.

Knock-knock.

“Jillian. Are you in there? Everything alright honey? I need to use the...”

Mom.
Ugh.

“Yeah, Mom.” I flush, then turn the faucet on. “Just washing my hands. But, umm, you may not want to use this bathroom right now, if you know what I mean.”

I haven’t opened the toilet lid since I’ve been in here, but this is my best strategy to get rid of her. She hates unpleasant smells and I really don’t want her to see me with my shaky hands and flushed face. She’ll know something’s up and then she’ll make me tell her why I’m a mess.

This secret needs to stay between me and the guys.

“Okay, honey. But if you don’t feel well go home and lie down.”

“I’m fine, Mom. I just need a minute.”

The sound of her sandals flopping down the hallway means I dodged the interrogation bullet.
Whew
.

Okay, Jillian. It’s game time. Go out there and show the guys that nothing’s changed between us, even if the reality is that everything’s different now.

Earlier tonight in the treehouse… Caden kissed me…and then I kissed James.

Holy shit
.

W
here’s the weird
? There isn’t any. Or at least not yet.

Thank God. Because I couldn’t live next door to the guys and not be best friends anymore. I’d have to move.

We’ve spent some part of every day together for the past ten years. Other people have Best Friends Forever—BFFs. Well, we are Best Frucking Friend BFFs, which is what James named us a few years ago when he knew it was wrong to say “fucking” but he wanted to use something cooler than “freaking.”
Dork
.

Still, I wish I could shake the feeling that the other shoe will not only drop, but will kick me in the head for having risked our friendship. I kissed
both
of them.
Brothers
.
My best friends
. What a disaster.

We’ve been lounging on the pool floats pool for the past ten minutes not saying much. It’s not unusual for us to be quiet together, but tonight it’s given me too much time to worry about what might or might not happen.

Screw that
.

I push Caden and James’ floats toward the shallow end of the pool and yell, “Last one to the board runs a five-miler with me tomorrow morning at six!” Then I dive off and swim full out toward the deep end.

James passes me with no effort and then Caden glides ahead to win by at least a foot. I’m so dumb to try and compete with these guys—one swims like Aquaman and the other is strong like the Hulk. I lose—Every. Single. Time.

I can’t help myself, though…maybe, just maybe I’ll win one day.

The guys are already hanging from the diving board by the time I arrive. I stretch my arms to grab on and James laughs, “What do we get for winning, Jills? Another kiss? I’m ready for more action.”

Did he just—?

I let go of the board and sink all the way to the bottom of the pool.
Oooh, it’s nice down here
. I think I’ll stay a while and listen to the high-pitched warning voice in the back of my head screaming, “
You wanted weird, Jillian
?
Well, here it is
.” For the record, I did not want weird. It was inevitable.

There’s a commotion above-water. It looks like Caden might be trying to smack James upside the head, but things are blurry down here.

I stay under for as long as I can but, of course, I need to resurface to breathe, since dying from embarrassment is still probably a better death than drowning.

As soon as my head pops up, Caden asks, “You okay, Jill?” He studies me with such intensity I consider taking permanent residence in my new under water haven. I could make it work. I think there’s a snorkel set around here somewhere.

James answers his brother’s question. “She’s more than okay. Look at Jills in that bikini. Smokin’ hot.”

“James!” I whisper-shout so our parents won’t hear us from the deck. “What the hell?”

He was so sweet in the treehouse. But now? Now he’s back to being the normal jerk teen-guy he is every other day.

Oh. Back to normal.
That’s good
. The fact that he has new ammunition?
Well, that’s not good at all
.

Just because we shared a moment together doesn’t mean he can treat me like a sex object. I mean, a kiss
isn’t
sex.

But… James has never said anything like that about me before. And if I’m honest? I’m not really mad that James thinks I’m hot because,
hello-there
,
James thinks I’m hot
.

“Show some respect, will you, James? Tonight was a big deal.” Caden tweaks James’ nipple in an odd demonstration of older-brother dominance.

James grips the diving board tighter and pulls into a chin-up, avoiding our eyes. All I can see are his biceps, chest and shoulders.
Talk about hot
.

When he lowers down, his face is set in a sad puppy expression. “Sorry, Jills.”

I’m about to accept his apology when he smirks and grabs at me with one arm, “Can I rub my body against yours in a hug to show you how sorry I am?”

Arrrgh
!

“Stay right there.” My stop-sign hand is so close to his chest I could actually feel him up or twist his nipple like Caden did. “Hands off or I won’t forgive you for being rude, you big dork.”

You big hot dork
.

I answer Caden’s earlier question before I do something stupid like rub my body against James’ or ask him to do another pull-up. “I’m okay. Just a little nervous about us, you know?” Then I kick water at James. “BD here isn’t exactly helping.”

The guys exchange a confused look and it’s my turn to laugh. “Big Dork.” They should know this already. BD times two.
Geez
.

Caden laughs at James’ scowl. “We’ll be fine, Jill. Little bro here is just excited about getting his first kiss.

“If you say so.” I shrug before dropping my hands to splash in the water. “Hey, I’m going to bed. I’ve got a long run
by myself
tomorrow morning. Byes.”

As I swim away, James says, “She’s so hot, man.”

And Caden surprises me with his response. “Yeah, she is.”

And the weird is back
.

I
can’t sleep
.

Tonight’s kisses run on replay.

Caden’s mouth was on mine before I finished saying the word “Yes” to his offer to be my first kiss. Caden’s kiss was
hungry
. Not slow or soft or gentle despite my kissing-virgin status. His kiss was mature and unexpected and nothing like the awkward first kisses stories my friends have shared.

My kiss with James was different. He was definitely excited by watching Caden and me together. But when I climbed onto his lap to give him his first kiss? He was nervous and and so un-James-like that his reaction gave me the confidence to take the lead. While James’ kiss was sweet and affectionate, it was sexy in its own way.

Oh God.
What have I done
? How am I going to spend time with the guys and not think about kissing them again? Not wanting to kiss them. Not wanting them to kiss me.

The thing is… I want them to kiss me again and I want to kiss them.

My crazy thoughts affect more than my racing mind, because my body is acting strange, too. Every move I make is exaggerated, like I’m on drugs or something. Not that I’ve ever done drugs. Even still. I tingle
everywhere
. But especially, and this is so weird, between my legs. There’s this unfamiliar pulse that I only felt one other time—in the treehouse tonight.

Turned on
. That’s what Caden called this feeling after we kissed. I’m turned on. But what the hell am I supposed to do about it? There has to be
something
, because I need to get some sleep before my run in the morning.

I spread my legs wide and then close them a few times like I’m making a snow angel. Slow, slow, slow then fastfastfast. Slow again. Fast. I’m ridiculous. But all of this action makes the ache between my legs grow bigger like puffs into a balloon. Bigger. Bigger.
Bigger
.

Think
.

What did I learn in health class? The teacher showed us diagrams of the reproductive system and a movie about teen pregnancy. She most definitely did
not
cover
this
feeling when she talked about human sexuality, and she most definitely did not show any videos like the ones I watched at Erika’s house when I slept over a few weeks ago.

Erika and I were clicking random links on her computer and found a porn website. I was shocked at some of the stuff we saw, because my computer still has parental controls set up. The nakedness and horrible acting were mesmerizing. I mean, aside from all the
penis
videos, there was one that showed a woman touching her vagina and screaming, “Ooooh. Aaaah. Yes. Yes. Yes!”

Totally fake.

Right?
Wrong
.

When I mentioned how stupid the scene looked to Erika, she put on her superior “you-idiot” face and said, “Clearly, you haven’t done that before. You are such a prude, Jillian Ross.”

What
? Of course I’ve never done that.

When I told her I hadn’t
ever
touched myself like that woman, she squealed, “Jill, you are missing out! It’s the best! I touch myself every night before I go to bed! You should try it!”

What what
? And why did she have to yell about her self-sex life like a banshee?

That was when I tried to leave the room, but she grabbed my arm so I couldn’t go and… She. Kept. Talking. Erika went waywaywaaaay over the best-girlfriend TMI limit by telling me about rubbing her “clit-o-ris” until her body would get all shaky and she “blissed out” then fell asleep.

Clit-o-ris. Drama queen. It’s clitoris. Even I know that.

“Every time, Jillian. It feels sooooo good. I think I’m horny all the time now.”

Eww. Why am I even thinking about Erika’s horny-times?

Seriously
.

Wait. Ohmygod. No way.

I’m horny. I’m honest-to-goodness horny right now.

Holy shit
. I went from first kisses to sexy mistress in one night.

This feeling? The one between my legs? It’s more intense now that I gave it a name. I’m not pulsing any longer—I’m
throbbing
. I can’t fall asleep now. Not when I’m
horny
.

Maybe I need to do it. Touch myself.

I never considered it before, but Erika did say it felt good
and
helped her sleep. If I touched myself, would I like it?

My body is freaking out so bad I need to do
something
or I won’t sleep at all tonight.

I hold both hands in the air and consider them. Which one do I use?

It has to be Mr. Right.