Page 19 of AJ’s Fire

Then I texted him. And then AJ started talking about blow jobs. Okay, AJ and I talked about sex a lot, or at least we used to. So it most certainly wasn’t the first time we’d talked about or typed the words “blow job” into our text chain. A drunk AJ once even threatened to send me a picture of some girl on her knees for him, with her consent of course, but I put a stop to that. I searched for that text from a few years back.

Probie: I see enough of you naked in the showers at the fire hall. DO NOT send me a dick pic!

But his text that Thursday morning woke me right the fuck up. I sat up quickly in my luxury leather seat, locking the seat belt in place. As I was unbuckling and re-buckling myself in, Emily took a quick peek my way.

“You all right over there?”

“Eyes on the road!”

“I’m fine. It’s fine. What did he say?”

“I … Emily. Should we be talking about him? I mean, you want to date him, right?”

“I want to be his date for New Year’s Eve. There’s a difference.”

“You’re being cryptic.”

“Intentionally so. I may also be a meddling fool, so out with it.”

I looked at Emily long and hard.

A snippet on the news quoting the White House press secretary ended, and Emily pointed to the car’s sound system controls.

“Just consider me like President Fisher’s press secretary. Thank You. I will not be taking further questions at this time.”

“Okay.” I couldn’t help myself. I was actually dying to tell her. I turned in my seat to face her more fully, and instinctively, Emily’s head turned too.

“Eyes on the road!”

“Oh my God, Jackson. It’s fine! Spill.”

“He’s talking about BJs.”

“I thought you guys shared war stories all the time about your hookups. Surely you’ve talked about blowjobs before? And wait, you’re excited about some girl blowing him? Also, he just got out of the fucking hospital and drove to the middle of nowhere in Upstate New York. Did he hook up last night? Damn, that guy really is a player.”

“Emily. Are you finished?”

“I will take no further questions.” She glanced my way quickly and snapped her head back before I could yell at her again. Waving a hand at me, she said, “Continue.”

“I asked him how he was feeling, and he said his throat felt like he’d sucked a dick.”

“Okay?”

“What kind of straight dude talks about sucking dick?”

“You may have a point. Maybe. He’s feeling okay, though? Enjoying his time at home?”

“Says he’s fine other than the sore throat. Ems?”

“Yeah, Jax?”

“I deleted the app again. That night, at the bar. It kept buzzing and distracting me. Distracting AJ!”

“Aw, sweetie. You’ll know when you're ready.” She patted my thigh, looking at me sympathetically, requiring me to once more remind her where her eyes were meant to be.

We chatted the rest of the way to the beach, and I kept up my text chain with AJ throughout the weekend. I heard about his niece, a game of touch football, and even a play-by-play of a suggestive card game he’d participated in with his siblings on Saturday after his niece had been put to bed. I laughed along with AJ that evening and realized just how much I missed spending time with my best friend.

I sent selfies of me out golfing with my parents and of the sunrise over the beach, and driving back on Saturday, I suggested that we go out like we used to the following week. I needed my best friend back. I would just have to figure out how to get over him. Getting over the image of him sucking a dick was going to be more difficult.