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15
Hunter
Occupied in my wood shop, I was cutting and sanding the spindles for Mrs. Eversham’s back porch. It was busy, methodical work and part of it made me wonder if I could repair the spindles on the porch of Taylor’s money pit. I already thought over how we could save some of the crown moldings in the old house and some of the lighting fixtures she said she loved so much. Surprisingly, I was going to be able to finish these much sooner than anticipated. My back pained me but stretching helped and after a half dozen text messages from Damien about this little party over at Taylor Jane’s place, including the reclaiming of an antique door for beer pong, along with a claw foot tub. I decided to see what trouble my best friend was getting herself into. Not that I cared in the least what she did in her free time, but someone had to make sure Damien didn’t set the place on fire.
Walking up to the house, black and orange caged construction lights were hanging in various corners like strange decorations, giving the house a strange illumination as I pulled up. I called Brittany to tag along. She was my buffer, and I regretted bringing her once she started yammering on and on in the truck on the condition of the house.
“Brit, chill, it’s a renovation project.”
“Yeah, but you said this girl isn’t even paying you.”
“No, she is paying me, but I’m not taking her money. She’s flipping the house and I like… helping her when I can. We’ve known each other a long time. Look, it’s a friend thing and you’re just going to have to accept it.”
Brittany was definitely going to be a problem and after tonight I doubted I was going to see her again especially after the incident at the bar with Taylor Jane.
Walking in, I found a few people I knew growing up whom Taylor Jane had convinced to help out on the project. Only she could get an entire community rallied behind her to flip this old house. There was a keg in the corner of the kitchen and the retro looking refrigerator that had seen better days looked stocked as well. I couldn’t find Taylor Jane, but that was no surprise, she was always a social butterfly. I did, however, hear her. She was in the living room, playing what looked like beer pong over a door that had been removed from one of the upstairs bedrooms. Peeling paint and sticky beer covered the surface. Firsthand knowledge made me think what a nightmare it was going to be to restore that door after tonight. I groaned, lamenting the destruction of such a beautiful old wooden door.
“Hunter!” Taylor Jane half yelled and half screeched at me, launching into my arms and rubbing her nose all over my chest. It felt too damn good for me to let her continue doing that and when she sobered up I hoped we wouldn’t have to talk about it. I greeted her with my customary grunt and she answered with a suspiciously intoxicated wink.
“Nice boots, cowboy.” Taylor Jane mimicked a southern drawl that reminded me of home, my mom, and everything comfortable it shouldn’t. She was definitely drunk. Damien walked in looking way too smug for my liking, watching Taylor Jane shamelessly smell me. Her little nose tickled the spot over my heart and I had to pull her away, fearful she might start to lick me at any second the way her eyes held this hungry glassy glaze.
“What’s she been drinking?” I looked over at Damien, who smiled wickedly and recalled one time in high school we’d both gotten awkwardly drunk. I learned that I got painfully horny, and Taylor Jane got even more social and touchy-feely. Neither was a combination we needed to revisit tonight as adults. In fact, my raging dick was going to be a problem since I couldn’t peel her off me right then without her falling to the floor.
“A little of this and a little of that.”
“Why isn’t Andy here mixing drinks?” I asked.
Andy would have at least tapered the liquid poison now coursing through my private dancer’s system.
“Couldn’t get away from the bar tonight. Something was up with David.”
David was the other Easton brother and a fellow Marine who served multiple deployments. We didn’t serve together but I had an idea of what he was struggling with. Damien didn’t help by setting up another game on the doorframe and inviting folks waiting to play to take over their spots.
“Gosh, you’re pretty.” Taylor Jane wiggled herself around Damien to look at Brittany standing in the doorway, her eyes slightly unfocused and words slurred with a happy note.
“And you’re interesting.” Brittany said to Taylor Jane shot with a cutting look at me and rolled her eyes, walking away. It was weird how Brittany had this crazy jealous streak a mile wide and Taylor Jane just soaked it all in, rolling with it. Damien offered to take Taylor Jane from my grasp, but I shot him a look of my own and held on to her, weaving our way to the far side of the beer pong table.
“Stop dancing for a moment, please.”
Her hands were like tentacles seizing me. Sighing, her hands grabbed my T-shirt again, pulling herself flush against my chest for a painful second time in mere minutes. “I don’t think your girlfriend likes me.” Taylor Jane pouted and it would have been cute if she hadn’t said it loud enough for Brit to hear and I wasn’t so conflicted right now.
I shouldn’t be afflicted, affected, or conflicted by her in any way, but a slow groan coming from me told a completely different story I wasn’t ready to acknowledge, like ever if possible. Taylor Jane is my best friend. She is my life. I must master my attraction to her as I master my life. My old Marine creed was doing nothing to tamp down my stupid cock, who begged for her attention like a puppy. I swore she could have kicked me and I would come back again and again. If anyone knew about the dynamics of abuse it was me.
“Honey, she’s not my girlfriend.” Avoidance, yup, that was what I was working with. The less I had to explain myself to my best friend the better right now.
“Ooooh! One of those then!” Taylor Jane jabbed me in the ribs, earning a grunt.
I rolled my eyes this time because I felt wrong answering my best friend about Brittany. She had nothing to do with us, and yet I felt like she did with whatever had been going on lately.
“How much have you had to drink, honestly?” I shook her gently to bring her wandering attention over the room back to me.
“Uh, I dunno.” She was squinting like a one eyed pirate, and I was waiting for a smartass comment to tumble from her pink lips I should not have been looking at. This was not how I pictured the night going… at all.
“Jesus, Taylor Jane. You puke every time you get drunk.”
For a split second she actually looked contrite before swaying into another song filled smile from the radio playing inside the house. Red Hot Chili Peppers where signing, “Under the Bridge,” and I regretted shaking her earlier. She would puke and I would be the idiot cleaning up after her.
Annoyed, I tucked her messy hair behind her ear, the wild curls tangling around my fingers, and my heart. I didn’t know if it was bad I knew this about Taylor Jane or that I’d experienced it one too many times growing up with her. This girl couldn’t hold her liquor worth a damn.
