“No, we aren’t doing the ‘sorry for ruining that for you’ crap talk. No one knows if I would have been picked or even liked it. I chose to be your friend, and I will always choose that. It led me to here and now, and I won’t give that shit up for anything. So stop freaking out about the past for five seconds and listen to me. I see you. I see what you hide from. You think you have to be strong, the strongest of us all, but you don’t. You got picked on more than any of us, but you always made sure that none of us saw you crumble as a kid. You showed us all how to be strong in the face of our enemies. You’re amazing. Then, and even more so now. The past doesn’t define you. If you fall today, you fall. The whole point is to get muddy, so it’s not a problem. There’s no competition, no one to pick you over another. It’s just you out there doing this for you. You only have a team with you tohelp, not to call you out on your faults. So stop freaking out that someone is magically going to come over here and say you don’t belong or that you can’t do this. You literally paid to be here, and no one is going to kick you out or laugh at you for trying. Everyone here is just happy to be here. There are no winners or losers, just crazy motherfuckers wanting to get dirty for a free shirt and a mug at 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday.”
I laugh, but it comes out garbled, as I’m also crying. Meekail is more the silent one in our group, but I forget how much he watches and sees things. When he talks, he isn’t just doing so to blow smoke or fill the silence. He does it with a purpose and a determination to get his point across.
And it works. I grab that inner goddess, who must have been sleeping in today, and drag her front and center. Closing my eyes, I gather my fierce strength and determination and shake off the nerves. I still have them, but now it’s more nervous excitement and not nervous woes.
“There she is. There’s the badass bitch I know and love,” he says with a smirk of his own that’s kind of sexy and always reminds me of why he’s compared to Shemar Moore so much.
I smile at his words and nod in agreement. It’s about damn time she showed up to rock this. I sometimes—not always, but sometimes—forget how amazing I really am. We all do. It’s a human flaw in creation. I fully believe each of us has gone through our own versions of hell. Some are worse than others if you compare, but to those who lived it, a bad day is a bad day. But we get through them. We go on. And that’s what makes us badass. I lived through my hell, came out the other side wanting to help and not hide behind what happened in school. I learned to battle my demons head-on. And a few of them in person by proving they didn’t break me in high school. I survived and thrived while they sit at home doing jack shit while remembering the good ole days.
“And just in time.” His smirk turns to a huge grin as he looks behind me, and I turn on instinct.
“Fuck.” I don’t mean to say it, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. It’s the way I feel, as my body, especially a certain lady bit between my legs, literally throbs, as if panting at the man who’s making his way toward us. I want to fuck him. Hell, I want to do a bit more than that. I want to lather his body with kisses. To lick each part of him and see if he tastes like anything other than pure grade A meat.
I barely recognize that he’s flanked by my best friend and a group of his brothers till they’re right on top of us. What’s probably even more embarrassing is that I still don’t look away from him. Gator’s been gone for over two weeks—fifteen days, to be exact, since I last saw him. Which tells me I’m in trouble, because I don’t make a habit of knowing the exact day I last saw someone. Sure, give me a second to think on it and I could get pretty close if it was recent. But with Gator, if you gave me a moment, I could probably calculate the exacthour.
I don’t know what changed, but something did. Maybe it was because he was there constantly and then he wasn’t. Perhaps the thought that he moved on was what drew me in. I don’t know, but before he left, I had a mild crush on him that I didn’t want to pursue. Now, it’s a full-on mega girl-stalking, chase-the-limo-down crush.
But I’m still not going to pursue it.
The guy has my vajayjay pulsing with need just from a look across a field. If I have a taste of him, I won’t be able to walk away with my head held high. I’ll be a crumbled mess. My anxiety will go through the roof. Just thinking about what-ifs has me feeling like I’m going to break out in hives. If I had an inhaler, I’d be using it right now. Instead, I force my eyes away from him and look at the rest of the people here.
I do note that he doesn’t even hide that he kept eye contact with me the whole time. Didn’t even smirk or smile as if he was laughing at me for staring for so long. No, the look he gives off was what I’m sure is mirrored on my face.
Want. Need. Desire. Craving.
All things that can’t happen.
And why not? You just said we’re badass. Badass girls get laid by the hot guy.
I cough to avoid telling my inner goddess to shut up out loud.
“Hey, Jules. Thanks for coming.” I stand and give her a hug as I nod at Flint. He hasn’t let go of her hand, so it’s only a side hug.
“Of course. Can’t leave my ride-or-die bitch out to dry. Would make me a shitty friend. Besides, Flint promised he’ll hose me off once we get out of here, and I’m not sure if he means with a shower or his dick, but I am so looking forward to either one.”
I choke on my laugh as the rest of the group groans. Except for the girl they brought with them, who just says, “I don’t see how you would get clean with dick. It’s physically impossible to get clean that way. I mean, sure, he could spray you with his jizz, but that just makes you even dirtier. The antiaging aspect is also not completely true. It is high in protein, but you don’t want that on your skin, and even if you swallow, you still won’t get the daily recommended protein balance.”
She looks to the man beside her, who seems to tower over her both in height and size, with a tilt of her head as if confused. But I’m pretty sure she just confused the shit out of me. That was a lot to take in.
Meekail breaks the weird silence with a small smile on his face. “Jules was only saying she was here for the hot shower and a promise to get laid by her man. And that she wasn’t picky on how she got both in the end.”
“Oh,” the girl says. She might be smaller than the rest of us, but her beauty has her standing out. The long black hair and Native American skin color draw the eye. Her skinny black jeans and a cropped black shirt should make her pale, but it only pulls you in. But the confused, almost sad eyes that she got something wrong make me hate myself a bit. She acts like a few of my students. Awkward as fuck when they open their mouth, but they’re just trying to figure out things for their brain to process. Meekail must have noticed it before me, and that’s why he’s always deemed the sweet one. He sees things before others and is the first to react.
“I don’t know about the antiaging aspects of it, but I had a friend in college swear it healed her acne.” I don’t know why I spoke, but I felt like I needed to say something. I remember her dancing with us at Tied Up and Tied Down, but I never caught her name. She was quiet, and I was too much in my own head that night to pay much attention other than that she was nice and smiled a lot.
“Jesus,” Flint groans as he rubs his hand over his face. “Can we please not talk about my jizz?”
She looks up at me, and the sadness is gone. She isn’t smiling, but the light is back in her eyes a bit. She opens her mouth, but the guy beside her covers it and pulls her in front of him. She just looks up at him but stays where she is, in his embrace with a hand over her mouth.
“Sure, honey.” Jules leans over and kisses him on the cheek, not at all fazed. “Guys, you know Flint and Gator. This is Mad Max, who’s holding his Fairy, and that’s Bass.”
“Are you really a fairy?” I really don’t know why I asked that. Of course she isn’t a real freaking fairy. It just popped out. My love for Disney movies must be to blame.
“Fairy is the name Mad Max gave her. Cheyanne is her real name,” Gator supplies, and I find myself drawn to his lips as he talks. It’s only then that I figure out why I can’t stop staring at him.
“You didn’t shave.” Another freaking obvious statement, but I can’t seem to get my mouth to control the lack of filter I have. I must have picked up traits from Jules due to our close proximity. She’s always the one who talks like this. I’m usually able to at leastthinkbefore I say something.
He replies with a small smile, and I get to watch in fascination as his whole face moves. He doesn’t have a full-on beard but rather a thick five-o’clock shadow that’s trimmed neatly from ear to ear. It’s so contrasting, as the sides of his head are shaved, and only the top of his head has a thick enough patch of hair to grab on to. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without a clean face.
