Page 3 of What About Us
“So, back to Small Hands Guy. Was he really that bad?” I’m fishing, even though it makes me uncomfortable to know about her dates, I’d rather not let my imagination run wild.
I dodge a couple of dogs that dart across my path and their owner gives me an apologetic grimace as I wave and jog past her.
“No, I guess not,” she sighs and puts the car back into drive once her phone is stationary. “But Huddy, I swear,Paigehas bigger hands than this guy. His handshake was so wimpy,” she laughs. “And you know what they say about a man’s hands, right? How can I have sex with a guy that has the hands of a six-year-old girl?”
I make a choking sound. “First of all, let’s refrain from talking about sex and my daughter in the same sentence. Second, what do they say about a man’s hands?”
Her eyebrows shoot upward, and she flicks me a glance. “The size of a man’s hands is in direct correlation to the size of his junk. If his hands are that small, I don’t want to see what his dick looks like.” She makes a gagging noise, miming sticking her finger down her throat.
I screw up my face at the fact that I’m talking about the size of some random dude’s junk with Finn. “I thought that was shoe size?”
Another pressing question pops into my head and I force myself not to sound like a jealous boyfriend. “And who says you have to fuck him?”
Her face twists up in thought. “Oh. Well, maybe it is. Shit. Why didn’t I notice his feet?” She shrugs. “Oh well, it’s too late now, I already told him it wasn’t going to work out. But seriously, I need to get some action, and soon if you know what I mean. It’s like the Sahara over here.”
I groan internally. Ireallydo not want to be having this conversation with her and I can feel my discomfort rising like bile in my throat. I force myself to focus on what’s in front of me and the cadence of my breathing evening out as I find my pace. “Wasn’t this a first date?”
“Well, yes, but what’s the point of dating if there isn’t the promise of sex at some point? I seriously doubt those itty-bitty digits of his could eke out any semblance of an orgasm.”
“For fuck’s sake, Finn.” I say, but I can’t help but laugh with relief.
“What?” she asks, shifting her car into park. “I’m a human being, Huddy. I have needs.” She says, and the camera moves all around as she gathers her things to get out of the car.
“Listen, I know you have sex, ok? I just…don’t need the details.” I move to the side of the trail and stop near a bench, a side stitch making it hard to breathe. Or maybe it’s the idea of her going on dates and potentially having sex with these guys. Guyswho aren’t…me.
And it’s not just about sex. I can't stand the thought of someone else having her all to themselves. Having inside jokes and shit? Nah, I did that when she was married to her mama’s boy ex-husband. What a douche canoe that guy turned out to be. I just want her all to myself.
I really have got to get laid.
Next to my actual family, there’s no one I love more than Finnley Jameson. When her childhood friend, Wrenley, left for college there was an opening for her new best friend, and I took it.
I had a huge crush on her back then. She never wanted anything more with me and I realized I’d rather have her as a friend than not at all.
Lately though, I can’t seem to think about anything but getting her naked. And I can never,evertell her how I feel. I mean, what would I even say? Anything I could say would fuck up everything. Sure, we’re both adults, and technically, Icouldtell her—see where it went—but Finnley Jameson means more to me that just getting my dick wet.
It’s definitely for the best that nothing went further the night of that kiss, especially since we’re going to be living in the same town again. Scratch that—in the samehousefor the foreseeable future.
So, I stick to asking about her dates, even if it makes my skin crawl, and hope to God that she doesn’t go into more detail than I’m comfortable with. Which is very little, if I’m honest with myself.
“That’s what I’m telling you. Thereareno details. Ever since Jeff it’s been dry spell after dry spell. It’s been three months since Mark, and he was a one-time thing. It’s all moths and cobwebs down there by now. At this rate I’m going to need a lifetime supply of batteries.”
“Jesus,Finn.” I really didn’t need that visual while I’m in public. The last thing I need to do is pop a chub in the middle of a crowded Queens Park.
“What? I need to get laid. Hard and often. Preferably with someone who has big hands and an even bigger—”
“Seriously. I’m gonna stop you right there.” I choke out a half laugh, half moan, but even as I do, I can’t help but look down at my hand hanging by my side. I lift it, turning it in the waning sunlight. I have pretty big hands. Don’t I?
Dumbass. Stop. Just stop.
Honestly, I feel like a gigantic dick because I secretly hope that none of these guys ever sticks. I can’t bear the thought of seeing her with someone else. She’s been my number one since we were kids. With the exception of my relationship with my daughter, ours is the most important relationship in my life.
I’d tried to kiss her once before too, years ago, right before I left for college. We’d both been drinking and as I’d gone to lean in, my foot caught on a tree root and my mouth just sort of collided with her eyebrow. Thank God she didn’t rememberthatthe next day, because once I was sober, I’d realized how stupid it was to risk potentially ruining the best friendship I’d ever had.
Once I left for NYU, the distance was enough to keep my teen age crush from ruining our friendship. We eventually both married, but we stayed good friends. And that’s all we’ve ever been.
As far as Finn is concerned, I’d rather believe that she’s not capable of having sex. Or at the very least that she doesn’t need it. Like Komodo dragons or fucking worms. Not because she doesn’t have the ability, or because she’s unattractive or anything. She’s perfect. She’s gorgeous. I just don’t want to think about some dickbag putting his tiny little appendage anywhere near her sweet little—.
Stop. She’s your best friend.
