Sweet tb-2 Read online

  Especially when I had the satisfaction of walking in to the living room right as Riley moved past the coffee table with the pizza box, triggering the automatic room freshener I had bought at the store. He jumped.

  “What the fuck is that?” he asked as it misted up along his hip.

  “It’s an air freshener. It goes off automatically when there is an odor or motion.”

  He looked at me like this was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard in the existence of stupid things. “I hope that wasn’t more than a dollar or you were ripped off.”

  “The sun is going down, so do I have permission to open the windows?” I asked, already walking over to do just that. Between a breeze and the mister, maybe the room would smell less like an old ashtray and more just like stale boy.

  “No.” Then he grinned when I stopped in my tracks and turned to glare at him. “I’m kidding. Knock yourself out.”

  “I’d rather knock you out.”

  “Badass.” Riley picked up a piece of pizza and bit off a piece so huge, literally half the slice disappeared in his mouth.

  I felt like I instantly gained five pounds on my ass just watching him. So not fair that guys could eat whatever. Hell, Rory could eat whatever she wanted, too, and she never grew tree trunks masquerading as thighs. But I had to fight to stay in shape, with massive amounts of cardio classes and strength training. If you could major in zumba I would because it felt like I spent half my life in the pseudo salsa classes. Sighing, I slid the window open and vowed to only eat one piece of pizza.

  There were no plates. Or napkins. Riley was wiping his fingers on his jeans and resting his slice on the closed box. But given the state of the coffee table surface, that was probably the best plan. Dust and cigarette ash probably weren’t good seasonings. Lifting the lid carefully so his piece didn’t slid off onto the floor, I pulled out my own slice and sat down next to him on the couch. The pizza was loaded with everything, including tiny meatballs, and my mouth started watering.

  “Thanks for sharing.”

  “You’re welcome.” He finished the slice in one more bite and reached for another one. Something about the movement set off the air freshener again to his left. “Christ.” He waved his hand around. “That smells awful.”

  “You think the air freshener smells worse than this room did?” I was in awe. In my opinion it already smelled better from the ocean breeze mister and the air blowing in through the open window.

  “This thing smells like dead old lady.”

  I laughed. “It’s called ocean breeze.”

  “No ocean I’ve ever been to smelled like that.”

  “How many oceans have you been to?”

  He grinned. “None.”

  “Have you smelled dead old lady?”

  “Probably.”

  “No, you haven’t. Or if you have, I’ve leaving because that makes you a serial killer.” Setting my slice of pizza on my knees, I picked a meatball off it and popped it into my mouth. Maybe if I ate slowly, I would fill up and I wouldn’t overeat.

  “I’m not a serial killer. But I do go gambling and those old women aren’t even alive, I swear. They’re just propped against the slot machines, abandoned by their families.”

  There was an image. “I’ve never been to a casino.”

  “They’re both a lot of fun and massively depressing. Full of saps who think their luck is about to change. I don’t believe in luck unless it’s bad luck.”

  “You’ve never been lucky? You’ve never won something or had a day where it seems like everything goes right?” I pulled off a mushroom and chewed on it.

  Riley gave a laugh. “Look around you, princess. Does it look like anything about my life is lucky? Except for those weeks where if I’m lucky, I can pay all my damn bills.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. He had a point. He didn’t sound bitter, not really. Just resigned. Tired. “It sucks that Tyler had to drop out of school.”

  Tyler had been getting an associate’s degree so he could be an EMT, but then he had been arrested for carrying his mother’s drugs, and he’d had to drop out. Rory had told me that Riley and Tyler had been counting on Tyler having a stable job to bring in money, and now that was gone.

  “Yeah.” Riley stared at my knees. “What the hell are you doing? Are you going to eat that or just pick it to death?”

  “I’m not really hungry,” I lied.

  He shook his head. “I can hear your stomach growling. Are you worried about gaining weight? Christ, you girls drive me crazy.”

  “Easy for you to say, but we all know everyone hates on the fat chick.”

  “You’re hot. Stop worrying about it.”

  “Thanks, I guess.” I nibbled a pepperoni.

  “I’m serious. You have a great body.”

  I wasn’t sure how to react to that. He didn’t sound at all like he was flirting with me. He sounded more like a best friend, like Kylie or Rory. None of my guy friends ever bothered to reassure me, and my gay friend Devin just flat out told me that I could become a heifer if I wasn’t careful, that it was in my genes. I carried the predisposed heifer DNA strand apparently.

  But while I was trying to come up with a snarky response, he leaned over and crammed his pizza in my mouth. “Bite it.”

  I started laughing, trying to pull away. I tried to say “Stop it,” but it sounded like “Stpack” because of my giggles and the cheese and dough way farther in my mouth than I would put. Grabbing his wrists, I tried to force a removal, but he was strong, his skin warm, his eyes dancing with laughter.

  Finally my options were bite and chew or gag, so I bit and pulled away. As I chewed I said, “You told me once that I have plenty of padding.” It hadn’t necessarily hurt my feelings because I had taken it that he was just being a jerk, but still, I can’t say that I loved hearing it either, even as a joke.

  “What?” He looked at me blankly. “When did I say that?”

  “When we were sledding. I was afraid to fall off, and you told me not to worry about getting hurt, that I have plenty of padding.”

  “I don’t remember that. But if I said it, I’m sure it was a joke. It’s not like I called you fat or anything.” He sounded a little defensive.

  But I remembered, and he should know that. “I don’t doubt for a minute you meant it as a joke, but you wonder why I won’t chow down three slices of pizza? It’s because practically every day someone says something to me, and to every girl I know, that is a casual joke or careless comment, and after about a thousand of those it’s in here”—I tapped my head—“whether you want it to be or not. Every magazine, every TV ad, it’s all about skinny and gorgeous, and girls worry they can’t measure up.”

  He was silent for a minute, then he tossed the pizza slice I’d bitten on top of the box. “Sorry. Guess I never thought about it that way.”

  I shrugged. “It’s a societal disease, what can I say? Girls have the pressure to be a size zero just like you guys constantly get called wimp, pussy, fag, girl, all those awful and offensive names to make you feel weak and inadequate. It’s stupid.”

  “You’re right. It is very stupid.” He turned to me. “But just know that when you’re here, you can chow down on three slices of pizza if you want, and I’ll never think you’re anything less than gorgeous. Even if you chew with your mouth open.”

  I laughed, appreciating his compliment and the fact that he seemed to get it. “I don’t chew with my mouth open!”

  “I never said you did. But you can if you want to.”

  It seemed to be an invitation, so I picked up his piece of pizza and took a healthy bite. God, that was good. It was like a rush of forbidden fat, and my taste buds stood up and did a happy dance. I chewed and flashed Riley a healthy mouthful, sticking my tongue out to make sure he got a full view.

  “Nice,” he said in approval. “Fuck this eating like a bird shit. You’re hungry, own it. Round it out with a burp and I’ll think you’re basically the perfect woman.”

>   I hadn’t burped out loud since . . . ever. My mother would have melted in mortification, then managed to piece herself back together just to punish me, usually by donating my favorite outfits to charity. My father would have forced me to scrub the kitchen floor. For some reason, that had been his favorite form of discipline, and it hadn’t escaped my notice as I grew up that it was a subservient position, on my knees.

  Public belching was not a freedom I had embraced since I’d come to college because it wasn’t about rebellion to me, it was about doing what I wanted, and frankly, I’d never had the desire to burp out loud. But why not? If I was going to with anyone, Riley seemed the perfect candidate. We weren’t exactly friends, and we weren’t anything else. So I took a sip of his beer and tried to work one up. I swallowed hard and opened my mouth and held my hands out, but nothing happened.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked. “You look like you’re giving birth.”

  “Shut up!” I laughed. “I’m concentrating.”

  “Constipating is more like it.”

  Gross. It was a good thing I was not trying to impress him. “You’re the one who wanted me to burp.”

  “A burp should be spontaneous, natural.” He let one rip. “Like that.”

  “I just don’t have your talent, what can I say?” I tried again and a feeble, forced belch dribbled up. “Ew.”

  “Yeah, you’re going to need some work. But we’ve got all week.”

  Why did that actually make me happy? I didn’t want to really think about it, but there was something totally different about being with him one on one. I didn’t feel as uncomfortable with his snarking as I had before, and there was something actually kind of liberating about not giving a shit what he thought. I could just be myself and it didn’t matter. When was I ever actually myself? I wasn’t even sure.

  My phone rang on the coffee table. I glanced at the screen, and my amusement disappeared. “Oh, shit, that’s my mom. I have to answer this.” I picked up my phone and gave Riley a pleading look. “Please don’t say anything, okay? Just give me five minutes.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Sure, no problem.”

  I would have thought he would get up and leave the room, but he didn’t. Of course, it was his house and his pizza, so there was no reason for him to move to the kitchen. Heart hammering in my chest, I answered the phone, standing up so I could pace the room. “Hello?”

  “Oh, Jessica! I’m surprised I was able to catch you. I was expecting your voice mail.”

  Somehow my mother always made it sound like an accusation that I had picked up her phone call. Yet if I didn’t answer, she was equally annoyed. No way to win, ever.

  “Yeah, well, we’re on the bus.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?” I asked blankly.

  “Yes, not yeah. That is not a word.”

  Damn it. I clenched my hand into a fist and took a deep breath. “Sorry. Yes, we are on the bus. This may be my last chance for decent reception.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, I only have a minute. I just wanted to let you know that we got a ticket for you and a guest to the fund-raiser in three weeks for the new wing at Daddy’s church. It’s important for you to be there.”

  Ugh. I would rather get a Brazilian wax than spend five minutes at one of those horrible events where everyone sucked up to my dad and he charmed them out of cash. “Mom, I can’t go to that. How am I supposed to get back?”

  “I’m sure you know someone who can help you out. This is very important, Jessica. We’ve been working toward this for two years. The congregation essentially pays for your education, so the very least you can do is put on a dress and smile for an hour.”

  Ah, of course. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. My parents were giving me financial support, and they could take it away at any minute, and my mother loved to remind me of that on a regular basis.

  “I understand that, but if I’m in West Virginia. I can’t just buzz up to Troy for the night. People are counting on me.” Which was bullshit, and I hated lying, but I hated being manipulated even more.

  “Your father will be very disappointed.” There was a sniff of disapproval, then she added, “Well, let me know as soon as you can.”

  I kind of already had let her know. But whatever. “Fine. I’ll try to call you next week. By the way, Kylie is bringing my stuff over to the house tomorrow.”

  “Fine, fine,” my mother said, clearly done with the conversation now that she had gotten her guilt trip in. “The housekeeper can let her in. Behave yourself, Jessica.”

  “I always do.” It just depended on your definition of behave. “Bye, Mom.”

  There was no response. My mother was notorious for just ending the call without a good-bye. Usually she handed the phone to her assistant to tuck back inside her Louis Vuitton purse.

  I sighed and crammed my phone in the pocket of my shorts. Riley was eyeing me. “Yes?” I asked defensively, even though I knew what he was thinking.

  “You’re in West Virginia, huh?” he asked, looking amused. “And what, pray tell, are you doing in West Virginia?”

  Biting my nail, I eyed him defiantly, daring him to criticize me. “Building houses for poor people.”

  Riley let out a choked laugh, and he thumped his fist on his chest, his eyes watering. “Holy shit, are you kidding me?”

  “No. It was the only way I could get out of going home for the summer. I know it’s an awful lie, but it couldn’t be helped.”

  “So that’s why you don’t have anywhere to stay.”

  “Yes.” I went over to the coffee table and took another bite of pizza and chewed hard, annoyed. “You don’t understand. My parents’ house is like prison.”

  “Somehow I highly doubt that. But maybe we could ask Tyler to compare them.”

  Shit. I immediately felt bad. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sure it was awful for Tyler to be in real prison, and there’s no comparison, I know. But at home, I can’t be me. I have to be what their version of me is.” And I just sounded like a whiny, spoiled princess. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

  But Riley just shook his head. “I’m not judging you, Jess. If you don’t want to go home, you don’t want to go home. And I give you props for picking the one thing nobody can argue with, though why your parents actually believe you’re hanging drywall and grouting tile is beyond me.”

  “I could do that stuff. If someone showed me.” I wasn’t completely useless. Just a product of my environment.

  He snorted. “I’m sure you could. But forgive me if I don’t hand you a nail gun anytime soon.”

  “Is that for painting your nails?” I asked in a fake Valley Girl voice, tilting my head and blinking my eyelashes. “Like, is it chip-free?”

  Riley grinned. “What are you studying in college, acting?”

  I flopped down on the couch and took another sip of his beer. “No.” Like my parents would pay for that. But I wasn’t about to tell him what I was really majoring in.

  “There is more beer in the fridge, you know.”

  “Why get my own when I can drink yours?”

  “Thus establishing why I am not in a relationship,” he said. “We dudes can’t hold our own against the wily ways of women.”

  Wily ways? I couldn’t help it. He did make me laugh. “I feel really sorry for you. Not.” Kicking off my flip-flops, I pulled my feet up onto the couch and leaned against Riley’s arm, wanting a headrest. “Doesn’t it smell better in here already?”

  “Christ,” he muttered. “I’m going to play video games. You can either play with me or you can go away. It’s too hot for you to be touching me.”

  “You sure know how to flatter a girl.”

  “I already called you hot and gorgeous tonight. I’ve met my quota.” He nudged me with his bare shoulder so my head flopped a little.

  “Stop it.”

  “Get off me.” He nudged me again, lifting his arm to get further momentum.

  I caught a whif
f of his sweat and deodorant mingling together and I coughed. “You stink.”

  “Oh, I stink, do I?” He grabbed me in a headlock, catching me off guard. “I’ll give you stink.”

  I squawked and tried to maneuver away, but he had a firm grip on my hair and the back of my neck, and he lifted his arm, burying my face in his hairy and smelly armpit. “Stop, I’m going to pass out!” I said, laughing, trying to scoot backward on the couch.

  When he suddenly let me go with a heave I ended up falling on my back, giggling, making a point of coughing and breathing deeply. “You’re gross.”

  But then he leaned over me and my amusement completely died out. He was smiling, but there was something else in his expression. His gaze dropped to my lips, his fingers lacing through mine. I was sure he was going to kiss me and I opened my mouth in anticipation reflexively, and because well, for whatever reason I wanted him to kiss me. It didn’t make sense, it wasn’t smart, yet I was arching my back and tilting my head and wetting my lips in anticipation . . .

  And instead he made the sound of gathering a hocker in the back of his throat. Oh, hell no.

  “Don’t you dare,” I warned him, my finger coming up to point in his face.

  He laughed. “This is awesome. I get to fuck with you like the little sister I never had.”

  Little sister. He just wanted to mess with me like you would a little sister.

  I had been expecting, or maybe more accurately, hoping for a kiss, and he just wanted to dangle saliva over my face to hear my scream.

  I suddenly realized that was why I always hated Riley—without even being conscious of it, I had known that I thought he was hot, while he thought of me as an annoying little sister.

  It wasn’t a label I was familiar with.

  And I didn’t exactly like it.

  “If you spit in my face, I will knee your nuts,” I warned him.

  He rubbed my head like I was a dog. “I wasn’t going to spit on you. Chill out, princess.”

  It was the last thing I wanted him to do or say. And maybe I was just tired, or maybe I was lonely, but I heard myself saying in a peevish, snotty, bitch-face voice, “I’m going to take a shower.”