More Than Him
Page 52
He shrugged. "About as stupid as you thinking that you being related to assholes is your fault."
"Agreed." Ethan raised his beer.
"Wait." I turned to Ethan. "You don't think it's my fault? The shit that happened that night? You're pissed at me. There must be a part of you that blames me."
He shook his head and looked me like I was stupid. "I never blamed you for that night. I'm pissed because you left. I mean—I'm sure you have your reasons, but to me—you took the pussy way out. It's not just that you left Amanda, but you and me—we were friends, we were housemates, we saw each other every day. When you left her, you left me, too.
"And it's not just about me having to take care of her, dealing with her crying about missing you, or her being scared or whatever. I'm pissed at you because you should've been there, too. You should've been the one to help her heal. I didn't know what to do half the time. And I was bitter as fuck because I knew you'd know what to do. You always knew what to do with her. Fuck's sake, you got her to quit being afraid of the rain. I'd been trying for years, and then you show up and make it all better. You could've made it all better for her, and I didn't know how to. That's why I was pissed.
"Then one day I open the mailbox, and there's a letter from you—and I could tell straight away, just from the look on her face, that she was still in love with you. That pissed me off more. And then you come back and she just forgives you, like she forgot all the shit you put her through . . . but I get it now. Lexi talked to me about it last night. Dimmy—she doesn't see it that way. She doesn't blame you for any of it—even the leaving part. And I get it. She remembers things differently. While I was trying to get her to stop crying from missing you—she was doing exactly that—just missing you. When I thought she was having nightmares about what those assholes did to her—truth is—she was dreaming about what they did to you. We experienced things differently. She's crazy, stupid in love with you, and I wouldn't have understood it, not until I started dating Lexi. Now I'm crazy, stupid in love with her, and it all kind of makes sense."
I stayed silent, replaying his words verbatim in my mind. I looked into the house to where Amanda was in her Hello Kitty pajamas, laughing with Lexi. I turned back to Ethan and opened my mouth to speak, but his hand in the air stopped me. "You don't need to say anything. I get it."
I'm glad he said that, because I had no idea what I was about to say.
Tristan sighed, his body slumping further down in his chair. "You guys are making me want to turn straight."
We laughed quietly.
"You think it's funny. If I could get girls like Dimmy and Lexi, I probably would."
Ethan sat up now, paying full attention to his best friend. "I'm sure there are plenty of guys interested in you."
Tristan raised an eyebrow.
"Fine," Ethan conceded. "I really don't know shit about your love life. Is that weird? Do you want me to ask you about it? I mean . . ." He shrugged. "I just don't know how open you want to be about it all."
The living room door slid open and Amanda stuck her head out. "You guys coming to bed?"
"Yeah, in a minute," we said in unison, then laughed.
Lexi snorted. "It's like we're nagging housewives and they're forty."
They closed the door, and Tristan continued. "I wish I was straight."
"Don't be gay," Ethan joked. "You can't choose that shit."
Tristan belched. "I know. But sometimes I'll be sitting on the sofa and Amanda will walk in, in her tight gym shorts and her sports bra, and her goddamn perfect ass—"
"Whoa," I said, at the same time as Ethan said, "Gross, dude."
Tristan laughed. "Just bear with me here. I'm trying to prove a point." His eyes were half closed, the alcohol clearly affecting him. "So she walks in wearing barely anything with this killer body, and I look down at my dick," he lowers his head to look down at his junk, ". . . and I stare at it, thinking, just get hard, just once, if she can't do it for you . . . then there's no hope."
By now, I've started laughing.
He kept on, getting more animated. "I'm like, Come on, kid!" he shouted. "Get. Hard." He got louder. "GET A FUCKING HARD-ON!" He was screaming now. Ethan was on the ground laughing. I held my ribs, trying to ease the pain. The image of a twenty-two-year-old jock like Tristan yelling at his dick to get hard was just too fucking much.
"I'LL GIVE YOU A DOLLAR! JUST GIVE ME A BONER!"
***
I was still laughing when I got into bed with Amanda.
"What's funny?"
I shook my head, containing my laugh.
"What?" she asked through a smile.
"Just Tristan—trying to get hard when he looks at your ass."
"What?" she squealed.
"Nothing, babe." I was still buzzed. "I can't even explain it right now."
She didn't press further, just pulled the sheets up to her chin and got more comfortable.
"You didn't take your Xanax again."
I shrugged. "I'm fine, babe, honestly."
She scooted closer, resting her head on my chest. "Will it hurt if I hug you?"
"Not sure, try it."
She did. "Does it hurt?"
"No." Lie.
"What did you and Ethan talk about?"
"A lot of stuff."
She kissed my chest once. My fingers played with her hair. "Are you going to tell me, or is it some kind of guy code or something?"
"It's not a guy code, it's just something between me and Ethan, and I think I'd prefer it to stay that way."
"Okay," she said suspiciously.
"It's nothing bad. You just mean a lot to both of us, that's all."
She sighed. "So are things going to be okay with you two? And with us?"
"Yes." Truth.
31
Logan
I waited for her at the bar while she finished up her shift. We'd spent every spare second together since the blow up at her house. That was a week ago.
"All done." She untied her apron and threw it in the air dramatically. "I have the weekend off and I'm going to spend every single second of it attached to you, and you better not complain." She pointed her finger at me with her lips pursed. As if I'd ever complain about that.
"Shit," I teased. "I kind of planned on seeing my other girlfriends at some point."
She gasped in mock horror. "Well," she said, her nose up in the air as she made her way to the exit. I watched her ass as she did. "You better tell them to go easy on you. You should be healed well enough to let me do . . ." She spun around and started walking backwards. ". . . some really, dirty, dirty things to you."
I grunted.
Legit, grunted.
I quickened my pace to catch up to her. "What kind of dirty things?" I asked, putting my arm around her and bending low so only she could hear.
She shrugged. "I dunno," she said, then pinched my ear. Hard. "Tell me again about these so-called other girlfriends?"
"Agreed." Ethan raised his beer.
"Wait." I turned to Ethan. "You don't think it's my fault? The shit that happened that night? You're pissed at me. There must be a part of you that blames me."
He shook his head and looked me like I was stupid. "I never blamed you for that night. I'm pissed because you left. I mean—I'm sure you have your reasons, but to me—you took the pussy way out. It's not just that you left Amanda, but you and me—we were friends, we were housemates, we saw each other every day. When you left her, you left me, too.
"And it's not just about me having to take care of her, dealing with her crying about missing you, or her being scared or whatever. I'm pissed at you because you should've been there, too. You should've been the one to help her heal. I didn't know what to do half the time. And I was bitter as fuck because I knew you'd know what to do. You always knew what to do with her. Fuck's sake, you got her to quit being afraid of the rain. I'd been trying for years, and then you show up and make it all better. You could've made it all better for her, and I didn't know how to. That's why I was pissed.
"Then one day I open the mailbox, and there's a letter from you—and I could tell straight away, just from the look on her face, that she was still in love with you. That pissed me off more. And then you come back and she just forgives you, like she forgot all the shit you put her through . . . but I get it now. Lexi talked to me about it last night. Dimmy—she doesn't see it that way. She doesn't blame you for any of it—even the leaving part. And I get it. She remembers things differently. While I was trying to get her to stop crying from missing you—she was doing exactly that—just missing you. When I thought she was having nightmares about what those assholes did to her—truth is—she was dreaming about what they did to you. We experienced things differently. She's crazy, stupid in love with you, and I wouldn't have understood it, not until I started dating Lexi. Now I'm crazy, stupid in love with her, and it all kind of makes sense."
I stayed silent, replaying his words verbatim in my mind. I looked into the house to where Amanda was in her Hello Kitty pajamas, laughing with Lexi. I turned back to Ethan and opened my mouth to speak, but his hand in the air stopped me. "You don't need to say anything. I get it."
I'm glad he said that, because I had no idea what I was about to say.
Tristan sighed, his body slumping further down in his chair. "You guys are making me want to turn straight."
We laughed quietly.
"You think it's funny. If I could get girls like Dimmy and Lexi, I probably would."
Ethan sat up now, paying full attention to his best friend. "I'm sure there are plenty of guys interested in you."
Tristan raised an eyebrow.
"Fine," Ethan conceded. "I really don't know shit about your love life. Is that weird? Do you want me to ask you about it? I mean . . ." He shrugged. "I just don't know how open you want to be about it all."
The living room door slid open and Amanda stuck her head out. "You guys coming to bed?"
"Yeah, in a minute," we said in unison, then laughed.
Lexi snorted. "It's like we're nagging housewives and they're forty."
They closed the door, and Tristan continued. "I wish I was straight."
"Don't be gay," Ethan joked. "You can't choose that shit."
Tristan belched. "I know. But sometimes I'll be sitting on the sofa and Amanda will walk in, in her tight gym shorts and her sports bra, and her goddamn perfect ass—"
"Whoa," I said, at the same time as Ethan said, "Gross, dude."
Tristan laughed. "Just bear with me here. I'm trying to prove a point." His eyes were half closed, the alcohol clearly affecting him. "So she walks in wearing barely anything with this killer body, and I look down at my dick," he lowers his head to look down at his junk, ". . . and I stare at it, thinking, just get hard, just once, if she can't do it for you . . . then there's no hope."
By now, I've started laughing.
He kept on, getting more animated. "I'm like, Come on, kid!" he shouted. "Get. Hard." He got louder. "GET A FUCKING HARD-ON!" He was screaming now. Ethan was on the ground laughing. I held my ribs, trying to ease the pain. The image of a twenty-two-year-old jock like Tristan yelling at his dick to get hard was just too fucking much.
"I'LL GIVE YOU A DOLLAR! JUST GIVE ME A BONER!"
***
I was still laughing when I got into bed with Amanda.
"What's funny?"
I shook my head, containing my laugh.
"What?" she asked through a smile.
"Just Tristan—trying to get hard when he looks at your ass."
"What?" she squealed.
"Nothing, babe." I was still buzzed. "I can't even explain it right now."
She didn't press further, just pulled the sheets up to her chin and got more comfortable.
"You didn't take your Xanax again."
I shrugged. "I'm fine, babe, honestly."
She scooted closer, resting her head on my chest. "Will it hurt if I hug you?"
"Not sure, try it."
She did. "Does it hurt?"
"No." Lie.
"What did you and Ethan talk about?"
"A lot of stuff."
She kissed my chest once. My fingers played with her hair. "Are you going to tell me, or is it some kind of guy code or something?"
"It's not a guy code, it's just something between me and Ethan, and I think I'd prefer it to stay that way."
"Okay," she said suspiciously.
"It's nothing bad. You just mean a lot to both of us, that's all."
She sighed. "So are things going to be okay with you two? And with us?"
"Yes." Truth.
31
Logan
I waited for her at the bar while she finished up her shift. We'd spent every spare second together since the blow up at her house. That was a week ago.
"All done." She untied her apron and threw it in the air dramatically. "I have the weekend off and I'm going to spend every single second of it attached to you, and you better not complain." She pointed her finger at me with her lips pursed. As if I'd ever complain about that.
"Shit," I teased. "I kind of planned on seeing my other girlfriends at some point."
She gasped in mock horror. "Well," she said, her nose up in the air as she made her way to the exit. I watched her ass as she did. "You better tell them to go easy on you. You should be healed well enough to let me do . . ." She spun around and started walking backwards. ". . . some really, dirty, dirty things to you."
I grunted.
Legit, grunted.
I quickened my pace to catch up to her. "What kind of dirty things?" I asked, putting my arm around her and bending low so only she could hear.
She shrugged. "I dunno," she said, then pinched my ear. Hard. "Tell me again about these so-called other girlfriends?"
