I walk into our apartment after dropping Erin off and grabbing a quick breakfast at my favorite café to find Amie on the couch, looking like something dragged in by a not very picky cat. Her sleek black hair is across her face in a messed-up tangle, she’s wearing her old Winnie the Pooh T-shirt and I think that’s it. The shirt’s long but not that long and from the look of things, I’m not surprised she couldn’t manage underwear this morning. It must’ve been a rockin’ night of clubbing.
“Whoa… She lives. How many times have you prayed to the porcelain god this morning?”
She tries to lift her head to glare at me, groans and gives up. “Fuck you, bestie.”
“I think you have that backwards.” I snort. “If you think you can handle it, what say we get some electrolytes into you?”
Amie salutes me with a middle finger, which means yes. I’m used to these mornings with Amie. Ever since we met in the 6th grade, she’s always lived life out loud. I’ve been caught up in enough of Amie’s adventures over the years to learn I needed to take it down a level but Amie’s still flying her freak flag proudly for all to see and looking so freakin’ good doing it. Even now, with racoon eyes and a definite gray tint to her perfect topaz complexion, she’s unreasonably gorgeous. I guess having an Italian-Hawaiian father and a Tahitian mother means you get all the exotic beauty genes in one concentrated package?
“Where’s Tiff?” I ask as I head to the kitchen for the promised electrolytes. Tiffany is Amie’s girlfriend of almost four months, which is a record for her. I like her, even though I’m not sure she encourages Amie to make the best life choices. She’s our age, super pretty, tall and curvy with this outrageous mane of gold hair that seems to be her number-one obsession—that and sex.
She and Amie are totally on the same page when it comes to sex. It’s not like Amie to come home without her. Most likely she’s still in bed, having her own morning-after issues, which might explain why Amie’s on the couch. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.”
“Gone,” Amie mumbles with a watery burp.
“Already?” If Amie looks like this I can only imagine the state Tiff woke up in. Weird she’d be gone so soon. I pull a bottle of electrolyte water from the fridge and a box of soda crackers from the pantry. “Nothing happened between you guys, did it?” If something did, I suppose that might also explain Amie on the couch.
“Nah.” It’s a groan. “Her moms are flying in today. She forgot. Nigel came and got her.”
That explains it. Nigel is Tiff’s driver and bodyguard. Yep, Tiff has one of those. Her moms founded Lambda Media Group, an international media empire based in Montreal, where they live. It caters to us queers, though not exclusively, and includes LIN-Q, our own professional network. It made them billionaires and with all the fucked-up people out there, that means their daughter needs a bodyguard. I’ve met Nigel a few times. He’s a retired Navy SEAL, looks kinda like a younger Russell Crowe and seems cool. I guess he’d have to be—Tiff can’t make his job easy.
Stepping back into the living area, I drop off the water and crackers on the coffee table on the way to the bathroom. “Lucky him. I hope he didn’t wear good shoes.” My snark sails over Amie’s head by a mile. “Two Advil or three?”
She holds up three fingers. When I come back with them, she’s sipping the water and eyeing the crackers with a suspicion that’s likely justified. I hand over the pills and she swallows them all at once.
“Yeah…fuck. Woke up to her moms blowing up her phone. Next thing, Nigel’s beating the door down.”
I stand there, watching her and not quite holding back a grin which I know isn’t very nice. I’m betting she had to let Nigel in, help get Tiff on her feet and then couldn’t make it back to bed.
“Did Tiff make it out under her own power?”
“Not hardly.”
“So this is as far as you got, huh?”—nodding at the couch as my grin sneaks out despite my best efforts. “No work today?”
We both know she’s supposed to go in this afternoon but I can’t help needling her. She works part-time as a fitness instructor (she’s kinda the queen of “do as I say, not do as I do”) and also helps me coach a local teen gymnastics team. You’d think that would keep her busy enough to stay out of trouble but nope.
Fortunately for her, the kids are off this week or I’d give her even more shit.
She takes another sip and flips me off again. “Kiss my ass. I swapped with Jarrad. He still owes me for the time he told everyone his mom had a heart attack so he could split to Cabo with his girlfriend.”
It’s true, he did do that. Jarrad is kind of a dick. “I guess life is sweet then?”
She doesn’t bother to react this time, letting me know she’s done, and changes the subject. “Where’d you go this morning?”—wiping her mouth with the back of her arm.
I pick up the crackers and Amie winces. Even though she could use something in her stomach, I won’t push. But I’m glad I decided to have breakfast already because cooking right now would set her tummy off. “I had to drop somebody at their job.”
“Somebody?” At least, she has the energy to cock an eyebrow. “You brought somebody home? Where’d you meet her?”
I debate how to answer. Amie and I share a lot but I doubt she’s in the mood for stories. And, frankly, I’m feeling a little protective of Erin. I’m not sure it’s cool to spill the deets of what happened to her last night, even to my best friend.
I’m not going to dwell on how else I feel about Erin either. She’s so sweet and pretty and kinda awkward but she has some sass too.
And waking up with her spooning me, wiggling her hips against me like that. I mean, I don’t let just anyone fondle my tits of course, and obviously I don’t let just anyone sleep with me either. But Erin’s so freakin’ adorable and… well, I wonder when’s the last time she had a good cuddle. Not from that fucking bitch she was with, I’m sure of that. She must’ve needed to cuddle.
Alright, in actual fact, it’s been a long time since I had a good cuddle too. Is it selfish that I enjoyed waking up that way with a gorgeous girl? Not that anything happened—or could, or would, or should happen. Still, rolling over and looking into her eyes, so close I could see these little flecks like tiny snowflakes near the outer edge of her irises, although they looked almost silver against a surrounding sea of blue…
Yeah, I think I definitely broke Jules’ rule by calling her beautiful. But I was still half-asleep—can I really be blamed for my lack of filter then?
And no, I shouldn’t have been staring like I did when she came into our kitchen wearing nothing but panties, but sweet Jesus! That body… a little lanky but muscular. I wonder what she does to workout. Gorgeous legs with great chiseled calves, nice slender feet and pretty knees.
Her knees are pretty!
And such perky tits with those small coral pink nipples and her long graceful back and abs I could lick for days, to say nothing of…
Me to Mind: Exit gutter Now!
“It wasn’t a thing,” I say with my best no-big-deal shrug. “She’s just someone who had a really crap night—it was seriously fucked up, actually—and she needed a place to crash so I brought her back here.”
“And slept with her?” Wow. She almost smiled.
I plant my hands on my hips. “I certainly wasn’t gonna leave her on the couch for you and Tiff to wake up when you got home.”
That earns me a weak chuckle. “Only you, my dude. Only you.”
Shit. Amie may be crazy impulsive at times but she does know me. And if I’m gonna be totally honest with myself, I do get carried away. I’m pretty sure I crossed a line with Erin and probably made things weird between us. But I’ll have to see her again, if only to swap our clothes and—who knows—maybe she will keep coming to the restaurant?
And I really can’t have my tummy trip like it just did if that happens.
You need to cool your jets here, girl.
Yeah, I can do that. I can totally do that.
Thank you so super-much for reading and your awesome support! I appreciate it endlessly!