She sat up then.
"What's your point?" she asked through a yawn, her eyes only half open, her hair smeared on one side. She reached blindly around the nightstand for her glasses.
"So." I grabbed her waist and positioned her to sit on my stomach with her legs on either side. My hand went under her top—my high school baseball jersey—and splayed open on her flat stomach. "Girls go crazy for a shirtless Jake Andrews."
Her nose scrunched, causing her glasses to lift slightly. "Really?" she sounded genuinely confused. "Huh—I just don't see it."
I rolled my eyes.
"Besides," she said, shifting her body to lay flush with mine. I moved my hand to her back. "I kind of have a thing for green eyed assholes and dimples." She kissed my neck.
I dragged my hands lower down her back until I could squeeze her bare ass.
"Mm," she hummed, her mouth opening wider on my neck.
I thrust up between her legs, she pushed down.
"Oh God," she moaned, her mouth moving lower, her tongue exploring further.
I squirmed underneath her. "You know," she said, removing her glasses and throwing them on the bed. She was at my abs now, her finger dragging lightly across the dips. "There's something I've never done before..."
A sound escaped from deep in my throat. I threw my head back against the pillow. "Never?" I croaked out, my eyes shut tight.
"Never," she assured.
Then I felt her hand rub against me through my shorts. I did everything I could to stop from jerking my hips further into it. Then her warm breath was there, as her teeth nibbled gently along the length of me.
My dick throbbed.
"Mm," she moaned again, palming the head.
It wasn't even skin on skin and it was driving me fucking crazy.
I need to hold off.
Think, Logan. Think.
Grandmas.
Grandmas smell like Band-Aids, mothballs and oranges.
Good.
Then her hand reached through the leg of my boxers and cupped my balls.
"Fucking shit," I grunted, jerking my hips back in surprise.
I glanced down at her—she was watching my face. My eyes rolled to the back of my head. I bit my lip as I felt her hand wrap around me.
The throbbing got worse.
Then her other hand reached in through the band of my shorts, her palm rubbing against my head, so fucking lightly.
Grandmas.
Mothballs.
Band-Aids.
Oranges.
"Fuck," I grunted when I felt her fingers curl around my shorts, pulling them down. My dick twitched. She must have seen it. Her eyes got huge before a smile pulled on her lips. Then she dipped her head—
"Dude, I need—Whoa! Fuck! Shit!" Jake stammered from the doorway.
Amanda squealed and rolled off the bed, falling to the floor with a thud. She hid her body from Jake's view.
"Shit!" Jake repeated, his eyes huge, but his head faced the ceiling. "Dude, I—I mean—I didn't know—uhh—the room, shit..."
Fuck.
I lazily put my dick back in my shorts.
"Uh." Jake again. "I'll be in the kitchen...you guys...finish? Shit." Then he closed the door behind him.
Amanda came to a stand. "What the hell?" she whispered, her eyes bugging out. She slapped me on the chest.
I laughed.
***
"I'm sorry." Jake ran his hands through his hair.
I shook my head. "It's fine. What's up?"
Amanda walked in, her face red. "Hi Jake," she greeted, her eyes trained on the floor.
"Hey," he responded, refusing to look at her.
Awkward.
"Kayla made me come. Not come—like you guys just—not—I mean, here. She made me come here."
"Oh God," Amanda groaned. Her hands covered her face.
I laughed and jumped to sit on the counter. I pulled her in between my legs; she plastered her face to my chest.
"Is she okay?" I asked Jake.
He nodded, leaning back against the counter opposite me. "Yeah. I um...she made me come here to apologize."
My eyebrows drew in. "What do you mean?"
"I was an asshole last night—about the whole Megan thing. We've never spoken about it, not like that. And I guess we just had different takes on it. Kayla said I was being insensitive to you—and your situation—so she made me come here and apologize. But I'm not gonna lie, you're my best friend, she's my girl...Megan—she's nobody to me. And I want it to stay that way."
I sighed. "I get that, dude. I honestly don't know what I want yet."
"She wants to be there," he rushed out.
"What?"
"If you decide to meet her or whatever. Kayla—she wants to be there."
***
We tried to get back to sleep after Jake left but we couldn't. We both skipped classes and opted to lie in bed and waste the morning away. I tried to get her to finish what she started, but she denied me, saying it was her form of punishment for not knowing that she gets horny when she's delusion-ally tired. I tried to convince her that I told her Jake was here, but she didn't believe me. She let me watch her while she showered—I guess that's something.
"Did you know her? Megan?" I asked, running my hands along her legs.
We lay opposite each other in bed. I convinced her on a no shirt—no pants rule.
She looked up from her e-reader, and shrugged. "Kind of," she said, but avoided my eyes.
I sat up and pulled on her arms until she was upright. I raised an eyebrow in question. She sighed, switching off the e-reader and throwing it next to her. "I don't want to say anything that's going to sway your decision. It's your decision, and like I said, I'll support you no matter what."
"Yeah, but your opinion counts," I told her.
"It shouldn't."
"How can it not? You're the most important person in my life, of course it counts."
She smiled, looking down at the sheets. Her cheeks turned a shade of pink. I rubbed them with the back of my fingers, she kissed my wrist and shifted until she was siting cross-legged in front of me. She opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it shut. She did that a few times before she finally spoke, "We didn't run in the same circles in high school. Apart from when she was trying to steal Tyson, or made an effort to let me know I wasn't good enough for him, she just flat out ignored me."
"What?"
She bit her thumb, her eyes cast downwards. Shrugging, she said, "Yeah, it happened a lot. I don't think I ever really got over it—hence why I was so insecure when he went to college." She tried to smile but it didn't reach her eyes.
"I wonder why Micky was friends with her."
"Yeah, I never got it. Micky was always so nice to everyone, she wasn't catty or bitchy, even when Megan was around. But one day my car broke down and Micky pulled over with Megan and she offered me a ride. She had to drop by her house to pick up her sister for some dance thing. We had half an hour to spare so we went in the house and hung out for a bit. Her whole family was there—and Megan—she was different with them. I don't know. It's hard to explain, like she could be herself around them or something. She joked and laughed with them. She even gave Micky's sister a Justin Beiber poster for her room. I don't know," she shrugged again, "I think maybe that was who she was, you know? But she just struggled with it, and I remember thinking even then that maybe she didn't have that at home. That family-ness..."
"Huh," is all I could say.