“So, what happened?” Taylor asked.
Love Island was paused, and she, Ryan, and I sat facing each other on the couch, mimosas in hand.
“Well,” I hedged, “do you want the longer version involving my AO3 addiction in high school, or the abridged version?”
Taylor made a face at me. “The long version, obviously.”
I dragged in a steadying breath. “There was a boy a year ahead of me in school that I was obsessed with.”
“The aforementioned Junior?” Taylor asked.
I nodded. “He was your standard bad boy type. Tattoos. Family had mob ties. Was once suspected of putting the principal’s car on the cafeteria roof.”
Ryan snorted. “How?”
I shrugged. “Crane? Helicopter? There are many theories. None have ever been proved.”
Taylor crossed her legs and leaned closer. “Say no more. I’m invested.”
“We went to the same church,” I told her, “so we kind of grew up together, but we were never close. Junior was so cool, and I was this shy, quiet bookworm. Back then, I could hardly bring myself to speak in his presence. Then, one weekend close to the end of my junior year, our church had its annual fundraiser. It’s this big fair with booths and face painting and donkey rides for kids, all to raise money for the diocese. I looked forward to it every spring.”
I dropped my gaze to Walter, splayed out beside me, as my mind went back in time. “I was a volunteer that year. My friend Kelly and I ran the ring toss booth. Across from us, Junior and his brothers were in charge of the bean bag toss, but they did so much goofing around that I don’t think they even remembered to take people’s tickets. Kelly and I got dragged into their shenanigans at one point, and it was the first time I remember Junior looking at me. Really looking at me. We flirted a little during the day, nothing wild, just some light teasing that still sent my pulse into the stratosphere because oh my god, Junior Trocci actually talked to me.”
Ryan shuddered and drained the rest of their mimosa. “Teenage hormones were hell.”
Taylor nodded. “The absolute worst.”
“Refills?” Ryan asked.
Taylor and I slugged back our drinks and handed over our empty glasses.
“There were fireworks that night,” I continued while Ryan padded toward the kitchen. They’d already heard this story; I was telling it mostly for Taylor. “I was sitting on a blanket, watching them with Kelly, when I saw Junior hanging out near the back of the church. He motioned me over, and I made some excuse and got up and went to him. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t for him to drag me into the shadows and kiss me.”
Taylor’s eyes widened. “Hot.”
“Understatement,” I said. “I still can’t smell cotton candy without getting turned on.”
“Then what happened?” she asked.
“Junior spun me around, slipped his hand into my shorts, and got me off while the fireworks exploded overhead. Anyone could have seen us if they’d looked in the right spot, but they were all too busy watching the display.”
Ryan returned with our drinks, their grin wicked as they handed mine over. “And you’ve liked it kinky ever since.”
I clinked my glass against theirs. “Guilty.”
Taylor frowned. “But that sounds awesome?”
My smile faltered. “It was. And so were the next few weeks. We fooled around every chance we got. I used to slip him notes of where to meet and what I wanted to do with him, and this is where my fanfic obsession comes into play.”
Taylor cringed. “Tell me a parent or grandparent or teacher didn’t find one.”
“They didn’t,” Ryan said.
Relief swept over Taylor’s face.
I crushed it with a single sentence. “My friend Kelly did.”
“Okay, and?” Taylor asked, looking wary.
“Well, she was obsessed with Junior, too,” I explained. “I didn’t tell her about hooking up with him because I knew she’d be upset—we’d always had this weirdly competitive edge to our friendship, and she would have seen it as losing to me, which she couldn’t stand. One night during a sleepover, I think she got bored or something while I was showering and started snooping through my room. She found my diary, read the entries about everything I’d done with Junior, and confronted me about it. I apologized for not telling her, but she wouldn’t hear it. She actually refused to believe it was real. Said I was lying and it was all some freaky fan fiction I’d written about him like a total stalker. She stormed out of my house afterward, and I didn’t realize until she was gone that she’d taken the diary with her.”
Taylor gasped. “No.”
I nodded. “She took pictures of all the entries and posted them to Instagram, and they took off like wildfire from there because no one could believe that shy little Lauren Marchetti was secretly such a slut.”
Taylor covered her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh my god.”
“Yup,” I said, taking a swig of my drink.
Her hand fell. “That’s like something out of a nightmare.”
“Oh, it was,” I told her. “I think Kelly must have regretted it pretty quickly, because she took the posts down, but it was too late. People were already sending screenshots to their friends. It was all over school by the time Monday rolled around.”
“What did you do?” Taylor asked.
“Pretended to be sick so I didn’t have to go,” I said.
“Nonna Bianchi must have known something was up,” Ryan said, having met my grandmother enough times to get a good read on her.
“I’ve never asked,” I said. “But she let me stay home all that week, and that wasn’t like her at all. If my sister wasn’t the one to tell her, one of the neighborhood moms must have.” I turned back to Taylor. “I tried going in the following Monday, but someone had printed copies of the posts and stuck them up all over school.”
Taylor looked like she might puke. “Did the principal do anything to shut it down?”
“No,” I told her. “In our neighborhood, everyone grew up knowing that snitches get stitches, so no one ever ratted anyone else out. Plus, our principal was one of those hands-off administrators who let way more shit go than he should have.”
“Bastard,” Taylor muttered.
“Yeah, well, karma’s a bitch,” I said. “He got in a car accident not long after and wound up in the hospital with more broken bones than you could count.”
Taylor frowned. “So how does Junior come back into play?”
I sighed. “He denied that we ever hooked up.”
Rage swept over her face. “Are you fucking serious?”
I nodded. “As a heart attack. I looked like the stalker Kelly had accused me of being, and she was quick to blab all over school about how she had seen it coming because I secretly wrote fan fiction under a pen name—because apparently my humiliation wasn’t complete enough before.”
And that was why it was so hard for me to trust people. The bonfire of my social and school life only exacerbated my unresolved feelings about being abandoned by my parents. It was the darkest time in my life. Nowadays, I lived by that Maya Angelou quote: “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.” It had become my mantra because I had learned the hard way that if you give people second chances, they’ll only use them to hurt you more.
I dropped my gaze back to Walter, scratching him between the ears. “People thought I was crazy. The bullying got so bad that my nonna pulled me from the last few weeks of the year, and I did all my homework and testing from home. I spent that summer so isolated and depressed that she even let me change schools in the fall.”
Ryan pulled me into a one-armed side hug. “Where she met me and began her healing journey.”
I smiled up at them. They might have been teasing, but it was the truth. I would be forever grateful for Ryan’s empathy, because they’d taken one look at broken seventeen-year-old me and known that I needed someone by my side. They’d also sensed that I was skittish, so being the introverted genius that they were, they didn’t try too hard to befriend me or get me to open up. Instead, Ryan was just . . . there. Quietly beside me at the lunch table, loitering near my locker in between classes. Eventually, I started coming out of my shell, started talking more, and our tentative friendship was born. A decade later, Ryan was no longer my friend; they were family.
“So what happened with Kelly?” Taylor asked. “Did she ever apologize?”
I shook my head.
Taylor set her drink aside and started to stand. “We ride at dawn.”
Ryan yanked her back to her seat. “Calm down, weirdo. Karma got her, too.”
“How?” Taylor asked. “I’ll need details to determine whether it was enough punishment.”
I grinned and shook my head. God, I loved her. Even in the middle of recanting the worst story of my life, she found a way to make me smile.
“Kelly got busted for having drugs at school,” I said. “She was actually top of our class, headed like five extracurricular groups, and had already been pre-accepted to her college of choice. Then she got caught with, like, half a pound of pot in her locker, and it all went to shit.” I frowned, thinking back. “It was so weird. She seemed as straitlaced as they came. Kelly swore the drugs weren’t hers, but when the cops searched her bedroom at home, they found more, so there wasn’t really a way to keep claiming innocence after that. In the end, I think she had to take a plea deal to avoid going to juvie.”
Taylor shrugged. “Just goes to show that sometimes you don’t know people as well as you think.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But even now, after everything, it’s still hard to believe she hid a drug operation that large from me. Everyone else was shocked, too.”
“So what happened today?” Taylor asked. “Did you get an apology from Junior?”
I huffed a humorless snort. “Hardly.”
She started to stand again. “At dawn.”
It was my turn to tug her back down, laughing. “He’s not worth it.”
Ryan didn’t share my amusement, instead, studying my face. “He did something to you, didn’t he?”
“Um . . .” I broke eye contact and tucked my hair behind my ears, a nervous tell I was sure they picked up on. “He might have cornered me in a back hall, and—” God, how did I even explain what happened between us?
“And what?” Ryan said.
I grimaced, knowing there was no way to get around this. “Let’s just say that one look at him turned me back into teenage Lauren.”
Ryan choked.
Taylor let out a whoop.
Walter barked, and maybe it was because I had regrets about earlier, but it sounded judgy.
“Details. Now,” Taylor demanded.
“There’s not much to tell,” I said. “I came out of the bathroom to find him waiting for me in the hall. He had his brother Alec standing guard to keep anyone from bothering us, and I ended up pinned to a wall.”
“Okay,” Taylor said. “That’s kind of fucking hot, though.” She turned to look at Ryan for confirmation.
Ryan stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “Did you not just hear that whole story about how he betrayed her? We hate him.”
“Oh, obviously we hate him,” Taylor said with an eye roll. “But it doesn’t make it any less hot. If anything . . .” Her gaze slipped to me, and she had the audacity to start fanning herself.
I grabbed a nearby pillow and chucked it at her head. Goddamn it. I needed her to help Ryan talk me down from my momentary stupidity, not enable it.
Taylor ducked the pillow, unperturbed. Walter let out an excited yip and went barreling after it.
“How’d you react?” Ryan asked.
“I froze,” I said.
Taylor waggled her brows. “Froze, or went boneless like the submissive little slut you are?”
Walter returned carrying the pillow. I politely thanked him and then lobbed it at Taylor again. My aim was better this time, and she nearly fell off the couch trying to avoid it.
“I froze,” I repeated. “He grabbed me and was just . . . there, and I was so caught off guard that I—” I could tell from my roommates’ unimpressed expressions that they weren’t buying a single fucking word. Time to speak my truth. “It wasn’t my fault; I was the victim of a possession.”
Taylor grinned. “By a randy priest?”
“Sexually frustrated nun.”
She nodded along like she was fully onboard with my bullshit.
Ryan, however . . .
“Fine,” I huffed. “I went boneless like the submissive slut I am, but in my defense, I haven’t seen Junior in a decade, and he’s grown into his man body. Those fucking green eyes of his stared straight into my horny little soul. I couldn’t help it.”
Taylor fell against the couch cushions, pumping her fists into the air while chanting, “Hate sex, hate sex, hate sex.”
Walter returned with the pillow again, and I lobbed it at her a final time. “Stop that. I’m not sleeping with the man.”
Ryan eyed me. “Did he say anything to you, or was it just the manhandling?”
I sobered, recalling the exchange. “There was an attempted flirtation.” I couldn’t bring myself to confess that Junior’s charm had almost worked on me, instead giving them a rundown of our mini altercation and my quick escape to Nonna Bianchi and her friends.
Ryan’s grin was rueful. “The wooden spoon brigade to the rescue.”
“Those old biddies don’t mess around,” I agreed. “Both brothers left right after, so nothing else happened, thankfully. With any luck, another decade will pass before I run into Junior again.”
Taylor sat back up. “But don’t you feel like there’s unfinished business between you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Clearly, the man needs to apologize,” she said.
I shrugged. “I don’t need an apology from him. Not anymore. I’ve moved on.”
Taylor’s perfectly arched brows climbed up her forehead. “What if he apologized . . . with his body?” She started pumping her arms like she was about to break into chant again.
This time it was Ryan’s turn to throw a pillow. Since they were seated right next to her, it bounced off the side of her head and went spinning toward the kitchen, much to Walter’s delight.
“No hate sex,” I said. “Although . . .” I closed my eyes, and it was like I was back in the hallway with Junior pressed close, his hand gripping my hip, his breath warm against the skin of my neck. I swore I could still smell a lingering hint of his cologne. Still felt his thumb drawing circles on my side. If we’d been anywhere else besides a church . . .
A not-so-subtle cough brought me back to myself, and I blinked my eyes open to find my friends staring at me like they knew exactly where my thoughts had gone.
Taylor grinned. “Hate sex, ha—”
I reached past Ryan and clamped a hand over her mouth. We’d run out of pillows. “That’s a bad idea for nine million reasons.”
Taylor licked my palm.
I wiped it off on her pajama pants.
“Hey!” she whined.
I sat back, out of her reach and whatever retaliation she was plotting. “Junior hurt me once, badly. And while I might have been temporarily lobotomized by lust, I will never, ever give that man a chance to do it again. I’m sure the only reason I was so caught up by him was because it’s been too long since I’ve fooled around with someone.”
Ryan set their drink aside and stood. “Okay. We’re going to the club tonight to fix that.”
Taylor let out an excited shriek. “Yes!” She looked to me. “Right? Yes?”
“Yes,” I agreed, pushing up from the couch. “I’ll take Walter out now if someone else takes him right before we leave.”
“I can,” Ryan said.
In less than a minute, I had Walter in his walking harness and out the door.
The sun was starting its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the brick and stone buildings around me in gold. It had been hot earlier, but a slight breeze had picked up since I’d gotten home, blowing some of the heat away, and I tried to soak it all in while I could, knowing that winter would eventually come back around to ruin the vibes.
Motion across the street caught my eye. I looked up just in time to see a man kick his leg over the back of an expensive-looking motorcycle. He dropped into the seat, helmet already in place, leather jacket more suited to a DC villain than a biker. With a flick of his hand, the engine rumbled to life, low and throaty. This wasn’t the first time I’d caught sight of him, and I figured he must live nearby. Unfortunately, I’d never seen him without his helmet on. Or maybe fortunately, for me. Something about a man on a bike scrambled my brain to the point that if I ever tried to speak to him, I’d probably blurt something stupid like, “Hi. Hot. Fuck?”
He must have clocked me staring, because he gave a jerk of his head like he was saying What’s up. I smiled, waved, and quickly looked away, my mouth dry, my nether regions . . . not. What was it about a guy kitted out in motorcycle gear that was such a turn-on? Was it the badass stereotype? The fact that so many bikers had been depicted as rebels without a cause in film and TV? Or was it the anonymity of the helmet? Anyone could be underneath that thing, and I’d always had a bit of a mask kink.
Whatever it was, one thing was for certain: It had definitely been too long since I’d gotten laid.
Here’s hoping that all changed tonight.
