Picking Up the Pieces (29 page)

Why are girls always surprised by that?
“Nope. Does that bother you?”

“No, I just didn’t know guys did that.”
Her breathing hitched slightly as I sped up my deliberate strokes against her clit, and I could sense her struggling to concentrate on my cock in her hand. “Like this?” she asked, sliding her hand up and down my length.

This girl’s innocence was as big of a turn-on as the handjob itself.
“I like it pretty hard and fast.”

“Show me then.”

Shit, that’s hot.
With my free hand, I gripped myself hard, pulling in long quick strokes as I moved my hand across the tip and back down again as she watched me. “Like this,” I said, removing my own hand and replacing it with hers. “That’s it, baby,” I said when she gripped it tightly in her fist and began pumping roughly. I was beginning to rethink my hard and fast request as I felt myself get dangerously close to coming on Mary’s countertop.

I tried to take my mind off my own orgasm and concentrate
on hers, stroking with my thumb in teasing circles. “Is this how you do this?” I asked. “When you’re by yourself?”

“Yeah, push a little harder.
And I want your fingers inside me.”

             
Well, if there’s one good thing about abstinence, it’s that it does wonders for people’s masturbatory skills.
Mary knew what she wanted as much as I did. And she continued to work my cock, tugging in rapid strokes as I swirled two fingers inside her, massaging the insides of her slick pussy with my fingertips. And she wasn’t kidding about wanting my fingers inside her. I could feel her clench tightly around them as she rode my slippery palm.

             
“I wish it was my cock inside you,” I whispered, “that was about to make you come.”

             
“Oh God,” she muttered. “Keep going. Just like that.”

             
Her hand moved faster in response to her own pleasure, and I could feel my orgasm building quickly. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna come,” I said. Not that I wanted her to stop. That was actually the
last
thing I wanted. But I thought it was only polite to give a fair warning in case she wanted to grab a napkin or paper towel first.

             
Surprisingly, she sped up, circling her hand around my slick tip when she got to the top. “Ladies first,” I said, biting my lip as I tried to hold back my own release.

             
My fingertip found that spot inside that could make any woman come almost instantaneously, and I pressed hard against it as my thumb tapped against her clit. Within seconds, I had her convulsing around my hand, riding my fingers until I felt the last of her orgasm die down.

             
Her warm palm continued to move faster, and I thrust my hips in quick jerks until I knew I couldn’t last any longer. My hand clamped over Mary’s as semen came out in long hot spurts into her palm. I groaned with a release I hadn’t felt in months as she milked every last drop from me.
I can’t give
myself
a handjob like
that.

             
When Mary removed her hand from my pants, I gave her a paper towel to clean up.
Who ever thought I’d like
not
having sex that much?

             
And as I fixed my clothes and accepted the cleaning products she handed me for my car, I couldn't help the smile that played on my lips as I thought how I'd definitely be calling Mary for a second date.

Chapter 31: Lily

It had been a few weeks since our own public version of
Dinner for Schmucks
—otherwise known as a night out with Adam and his friends—and neither one of us had brought it up since. Both of us seemed content to pretend that the uncomfortable horror show hadn’t even happened. And surprisingly, that feat came fairly easily. We’d gone on a few more dates with just the two of us and, as always, things had gone smoothly.

However, as much as I enjoyed having Adam all to myself
—and Jesus, did I enjoy that—I couldn’t shake the feeling that it would have been nice to have some other couples to hang out with. I had seen his friends once or twice since then, but unfortunately the epic fail had been strikingly similar to
The Butterfly Effect
.
And after a careful analysis of what could have gone wrong, I could only come up with one explanation: all of his friends were complete fucking assholes.

But despite the fact that I would rather suffer a slow death by hanging myself with the elastic of a stranger’s underwear than spend more time
with Adam's friends, my gut told me they were the problem, not us. So I figured it was time to test this theory by arranging a night out with some of
my
friends. I saw it as my duty—a public service—to show Adam what
normal
people were like.

And for some reason I decided that
normal
was Amanda and Shane. When I invited Adam to come to Shane’s house on Friday night for a double date, I figured it would be the best of both worlds. Adam and I could spend time together while I enjoyed the comfort of familiar friends and surroundings. No strange questions. No one patronizing the waiter. Just the four of us relaxing and eating whatever health-conscious crap Shane decided to cook for us. Who
couldn’t
have fun with the two of them?

Work dragged on Friday because Mr. Murdock scheduled me to proctor the standardized test that the school had been giving.
For three days in a row. One day was more than enough. Two days was nearly unbearable. And by day three, I considered writing a letter to the Department of Homeland Security that suggested they use this shit as a form of torture for suspected terrorists.

By the time 5:30 rolled around, I desperately needed a drink.
Or maybe two. Luckily, Amanda took it upon herself to get me slightly liquored up while we got ready to go to Shane’s. She also agreed to drive us. It made the most sense since Amanda would most likely be sleeping at Shane’s anyway, and I could catch a ride home with Adam.

“Enjoy it,” Amanda said, gesturing up and down the length of my body with her hand.

“Enjoy what?” I’d become used to having to ask Amanda to explain things, but she had me completely baffled.
What the hell is she talking about?

“The tights,” she said.
“It’s your last year in them. You’re twenty-nine now. Once you hit thirty, you can’t wear ‘em anymore.”

“What? Why not?
They’re comfortable, and as long as my ass is covered by a long sweater like this one,” I said, pulling my striped gray shirt down a little lower, “there’s nothing to worry about.”

Amanda’s expression remained incredulous.
“Uh-huh. Hey, speaking of you turning twenty-nine, what did Mr. Wonderful get you? I never even asked. Wait let me guess,” Amanda said, squinting her eyes together as she plopped herself on the bed pretending to be deep in thought. “I know it’s gotta be good. An all-expense paid trip to some tropical island where everyone’s beautiful and the orange juice is made each morning from freshly squeezed fruit off the trees near your private villa?"

I stared at her blankly.

“No? Huh. I thought I had it. Okay, let me try again.” She thought for a few more seconds before answering. “A diamond-studded unicorn.”

“Seriously?”

“Okay, those are all of the
imaginary gifts I can think of right now, so why don’t you just
tell
me what he gave you.”

I turned around and kept my eyes glued to the mirror as I put in earrings, refusing to look at her.
“Nothing.”

“Don’t tell me you told him not to get you
anything. That’s a waste of a good boyfriend, Lily.”

“I didn’t tell him not to,” I said simply.
“He just didn’t.”

In the reflection of the mirror, I could see a
wave of confusion sweep over Amanda’s face before she spoke again. “Wait, what? Adam Carter forgot your birthday? What kind of boyfriend does that?”

“The kind who doesn’t know when it is.”

“What do you mean ‘doesn’t know when it is'? He knew when it was last year. You practically kicked me out of the house so he could have dinner with your parents.”

“Well, a lot’s happened since last year, Amanda.”

“A lot’s happened? Like what? You stopped aging? A person’s birthday is vital information. If he didn’t remember it, he should’ve asked.”

I let out a long sigh, hoping that would show her how much I did
not
want to talk about this right now. “It’s not that big a deal.”

             
“Yeah? When’s
his
birthday?”

             
May 22nd.
And though I didn't say this out loud, my silence told her I knew the answer.

             
“Uh-huh, I rest my case. You absolutely know when his is. And what’s more, I bet you remembered it without having to ask him again. I don’t know why you’re acting like this doesn’t matter. This is a huge—”

             
“I’m acting like it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t. It’s just one day.” I could hear how defensive I sounded, but for some reason I felt it necessary to come to Adam’s rescue. Everyone forgot birthdays and holidays at one point or another, and when I forgot his birthday or our anniversary years from now, I didn’t want to be chastised for it. “And you’re not gonna act like it matters either. He doesn’t even realize he forgot it, and he’ll feel awful if he knows.”

             
Amanda’s face softened slightly, and she backed down. “Okay, okay, I’ll be nice. I promise not to say anything,” she huffed. “Now finish your drink and put on some pants so we can go.”

I looked down at my tights again.
“Should I change? Really?”

“Nah, I’m just fuckin’ with you.
You look great. And I’m sure Adam will think so too,” she said, plastering an overly exaggerated smile on her face. “Let’s get going. It’s time to go eat some dry salad and oats or whatever appetizing delicacy Shane has prepared for us this evening.”

***

By the time we arrived at Shane’s a little after 6:30, I was famished. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, which had been around 9:30 because of the amended testing schedule. And I’d barely eaten anything because it had been so early. Now, with two margaritas and little else in my stomach, I desperately needed food.

             
“Do you have any rolls or something, Shane? I feel like I need something in my stomach.”

             
“Rolls?” Amanda’s voice deepened, clearly trying to imitate Shane. “What do you think this is? Bertucci’s? We don’t eat empty carbs in this house,” she said sternly.

             
“Yeah, that sounds
just
like me.” Shane rolled his eyes and poked Amanda in the stomach, making her squeal like a child. “How’s this, Lil? Flatbread okay?” Shane handed me a plate with some hard, grainy breads.

             
“That’s great, Shane. Thanks. What are these?” I asked, pointing to a few of the homemade spreads.

             
“This one’s a bleu cheese and fig glaze and the other’s roasted peppers with chopped kalamata olives and sage.”

             
“Are you speaking English right now?” Amanda chimed in. “What happened to butter? Or oil and spices? The only fig I eat is in a Newton.”

             
Refusing to give Amanda the satisfaction of seeing his expression, he kept his back to her and continued to chop some vegetables. “Yeah, well
I
don’t eat cookies, dear, remember?” he said, emphasizing the term of endearment. “So I gotta get my fig from other sources.”

             
“It’s not a cookie. It’s a cake, Shane. Haven’t you heard the commercial?”

             
Shane’s body shook, unable to control his laughter. “What am I gonna do with her, Lily?”

             
“I don’t know, but you better figure it out soon. She’s all yours in less than two months.”

             
Shane turned to face the two of us, reaching his arm around Amanda’s waist to pull her quickly against him and plant a soft kiss on her forehead. “Hmm,” he said exhaling a sharp laugh through his nose, “I thought she was
already
mine.”

             
“Well duh,” Amanda said as the doorbell rang.

             
I shoved the last bite of flatbread in my mouth and hopped up from my barstool to head toward the front door. Watching how cute Shane and Amanda were together made me even more eager to see Adam.

             
As always, Adam was the perfect gentleman, arriving with a bottle of wine and an appetizer. “You didn’t have to bring anything,” I said, taking the wine and bowl of spinach and artichoke dip from his hands. He took a moment to smooth any wrinkles out of his navy and white plaid shirt and slipped a hand in his pocket casually. “You look great,” I said, leaning up to give him a peck on the cheek.” And he smelled even better. I’d never get tired of inhaling his fresh aftershave.

             
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure what to wear.”

“Yeah, me neither.”
Adam followed me toward the back of the house to the kitchen. “Shane, this is Adam. Adam, Shane,” I said.

“Hey, Adam,” Amanda said, a wide grin across her face.
“Glad you could come.”

Adam nodded toward Amanda and smiled politely.

“Good to meet you, Adam,” Shane said, wiping off his hands with a towel and extending one toward him. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“Likewise. The girls talk about you all the time.”

“Not too much, I hope.” Shane shot a glance at Amanda. He knew as well as I did that she had no filter. I knew more about their sex life than Shane probably did, and I guessed he was hoping that Adam hadn’t been present for any of those conversations.

“They told me a lot about CrossFit.
Lily’s been dying for me to go. I guess I have you to thank for getting her in such great shape.”

Shane’s eyebrows furrowed
in confusion at Adam’s remark. “Um, yeah, I guess. Lily was always in great shape, though. Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Um, yeah, thanks. A beer would be great if you have one.
And I didn’t mean Lily wasn’t in great shape before. I mean, she always looks beautiful. I just meant . . . I know CrossFit’s different than a regular gym.”

Shane laughed as he handed Adam a beer from the fridge, and I could see in his eyes that he was gearing up for a CrossFit explanation.
Adam listened silently as Shane explained the origins of CrossFit and why people preferred it to a traditional gym. “You should really take Lily up on her offer and come by sometime,” Shane suggested. “You look like you’re in great shape. I’m sure you could handle it.”

“I’m sure I could too,” Adam countered.
“I’m just not sure it’s for me. Too much structure or something. And Lily mentioned that sometimes you do workouts as teams . . . I don’t think I want other people depending on me like that. I kinda just like to do my own thing.”

I sensed Shane debating whether or not to continue the conversation any further.
“Well, the invitation stands if you’d like to come by sometime. You should give everything a shot at least once,” he said. “And I think you might be surprised. Don’t be so quick to think other people will be relying on
you
. It might be the other way around, you know. Okay, who’s hungry?” he asked quickly, allowing Adam no time to respond.

***

Thankfully, the battle of the gyms had ceased as soon as we’d sat down. And strangely enough, so had the conversation. I wasn’t even sure Amanda and I were this quiet in our sleep.

             
“More wine?” Shane asked Amanda and me, presumably in an effort to break the noticeable silence that had settled over the table.

             
“Please,” we both said at the same time as we raised our glasses toward Shane.

             
“You good, Adam?” Shane asked, still holding the wine bottle.

             
Adam glanced at his half-full glass, and nodded. “I’m good for now. Thanks”

             
Shane placed the bottle back on the table and silence descended again. It was deafening.