Page 57 of Very Unlikely
“No. He didn’t arrive until you…you know…” She more rips my hair from my scalp than massages it for my bad impersonation of her twanged voice, but it doesn’t stop me from finalizing my reply, “… you removed your hand from the front of your panties.”
Her groan rumbles through both our chests when she shuffles down the mattress to hide her face with the bedding flattened under my ass. “I’mneverleaving this room.”
It’s wrong of me to be down with her plans, so instead, I say, “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Masturbation is perfectly normal.”
“Says the guy who hasn’t done it in front of his best friend not once but twice!”
“Would it make you feel better if I did?”
It’s clear I didn’t think my reply through when Summer replies, “Yeah, it would.” The tightness stretching my boxer shorts weakens a little when she mumbles, “Shall we meet in the bathroom around nine? I’ll switch out the strawberry-scented bodywash for a more masculine scent so you don’t get stage fright.”
Her last couple of words come out in a roar from me bombarding her ribs with my torturous hands. I tickle her until all the wrongs done the past twenty-four hours are righted, and there’s nothing left but the girl I gave up sex for and me—the sucker disinterested in getting back in the game if it means I’d have to give this up.
24
Summer
Iblame the sun beaming down on me for my red cheeks when I make my way down the bleacher at Ravenshoe Ravens Stadium. With the merchandise store needing restocking before this weekend’s games, I arrived for my shift despite a massive hangover and even more embarrassing recollection of the events that occurred last night rolling through my mind.
My wish to bury my head in the sand gives more understanding to Lennox wanting to keep our previous rendezvous under wraps. Alcohol-free veins haven’t changed how I feel about him. I just hate that I’m not confident enough to express myself without a foreign substance strumming through my veins.
I also can’t be mad about him not trusting me when I can’t be honest with myself.
Honesty begins at home, and it’s time for me to remember that.
My cheeks heat even more when Lennox spots my stalk. He signals to the catcher for a break before mouthing to check if I’m okay. “You good?”
Smiling, I nod. I hate that I made a fool out of myself, but I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t like how he looked after me. I wouldn’t be half as presentable as I am now if it weren’t for Lennox.
After winking in gratitude that my thumping skull is a thing of the past, he nudges his head to a man sitting three rows back from the field. Even with his familiar golden locks covered by a backward baseball cap, my feet recognize him long before my heart. They gallop down the final few stairs at a pace almost too fast for my body to keep up with.
A feeling of being home swamps me when I slip into the empty seat next to my dad and rest my head on his shoulder.
“Hey there, pumpkin,” he murmurs before he squeezes my head between his big fat head and his shoulder. “Are you feeling better today?” After raking his eyes down my overalls, chunky shoes, and flannel shirt twisted around my midsection since I worked up a sweat in the merchandise store, he mutters, “Looks like you’re all better.”
“I’m feeling heaps better, thank you. Lennox has a way of making it seem as if it’s okay to be a mess as long as you’re yourself while doing it.” I peer up at him. “But you already knew that, didn’t you? That’s why you left my care to him last night.”
He shrugs like the trust he awarded Lennox last night isn’t as big a deal as it is. “Something about him was bugging the hell out of me, but no matter how hard I tried to work out what it was, I couldn’t put my finger on it.” His admiration for Lennox is undeniable on his face when he mutters, “Then he called me.” To hide his grin, he shakes his head. “And it all made sense.” The number of times I vomited last night shouldn’t allow me to feel as ill as I do when he adds, “He’s me.”
“Daddy, no. Please don’t.” I’ll never want to have sex again if he continues with his commentary. “Lennox has some similar traits to you, but hedefinitelyisn’t you.”
“No, pumpkin. Seriously. Lennox is me.” I physically gag. “You’ve fallen in love with a man just like your father.”
“No!” I’m not denying that I’m in love with my best friend. I am, and quite possibly have been since day one, but I blatantly refuse to admit I’ve fallen for a man like my father. “It’s time to move into the shade. You’ve clearly had too much sun.”
“He’s goofy, cocky…” I stop dry retching partway through his last sentence. “And so madly in love with you, he’d rather see you with someone else than risk hurting you.”
“Lennox doesn’t love me. Not like that. What we have is special, but it isn’t love.”
I choke back a sob when my dad swings his kind eyes my way. They’re beaming with truths I can’t deny. “He loves you, pumpkin. I know he does because every time he looks at you, he has the same stupid look on his face I had every time your mother entered the room.” He digs a folded-up piece of paper out of the breast pocket of his sports jacket. “Then there’s this… a service that costs a whopping fourteen dollars a month for one inconsequential little match.”
I want to die a thousand deaths when the logo at the top of the letterhead registers as familiar. It’s the Matched dating app I signed up for when I thought I could handle a one-night stand. I forgot to cancel my membership when I discovered the one man I hit ‘matched’ with didn’t feel the same way.
“Why did you continue paying the membership fee if you knew I wasn’t using it?” I ask my dad, mortified by both the statement showing his regular payments and his earlier comment that Lennox is his doppelgänger.
I raise my eyes to his when he replies, “Because I knew one day you’d need to see this.”
“See what?” I mumble just as he plucks my cell phone out of my hand and logs in without the faintest bit of shock on his face that Lennox’s date of birth is now the lock code on my phone instead of the day he wed my mother. “Oh, god, Daddy. Please don’t,” I groan for the second time when he logs into the Matched app. When he ignores me, I scan my eyes across the pavilion. “Is today embarrass my daughter day? Because you’re doing a mighty fine job of it…”
