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Chapter Three
Abby
First time I heard that song, Jeff Healey stole my heart. Then I heard ten-year-old Levi Morgan belt out the words, and I was a goner. My best friend can sing, even though he prefers to play guitar and provide backup vocals, but he always sings that song for me.
When he finishes, I hold my breath and wait until…there. He does it. He points to me from the stage, a huge smile spread across his handsome face. The ladies go wild as if he’s pointing to them, but I don’t pay them any attention. My eyes are locked on his, my smile as wide as the one he throws at me from the stage.
“You two are so stinkin’ cute. Why don’t you just screw and get it over with?” AJ slurs beside me.
“Screw! I wanna screw! Not Levi because that’d be like doing the sex with my brother, but I wouldn’t mind a little bit of the sex,” Lexi chimes in, her words just as slurry as AJ’s.
“Stop calling it the sex, Grandma! You sound just like her!” Jaime exclaims. She’s right. Grandma always calls it the sex, and apparently Lexi has picked up on the habit.
“She’s right,” I tell my twin. “And I’m not having the, you know, sex or anything with Levi. We’re friends.”
“Friends who should screw,” AJ retorts with a snort, finishing off her drink. “I’m done. I’m drunk. I’m ready to go,” she says, swaying a little too much towards Ryan. Fortunately, he doesn’t mind that she’s practically using him as a place to rest.
“Me too. I’m just drunk enough for road-head,” Jaime yells over the music. Ryan’s face lights up like he just signed with the Yankees.
“I like road-head,” Ryan adds to the conversation, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.
“Please wait until you’ve safely dropped us all off,” Meghan begs.
“Or until you’re safely at home,” I add.
“You don’t understand the concept of road-head, Abs,” Jaime says with a laugh.
This may be true, but I’d rather them be on the safe side. I wouldn’t want to risk my life and that of those around me to give a little BJ on the way home. Suddenly, completely unwarranted, but Levi’s face pops up in my semi-drunken mind. For some reason, I doubt any BJ I’d give him would be little. In fact, I might have caught a glimpse of a very large, very hard penis when he was getting out of the shower in my dorm room, at college one weekend. I’m pretty sure he took care of the problem with my roommate.
Picturing the scene all over again makes me giggle. Back then, I remembered being completely shocked (and maybe a little excited). Like ninety percent shocked and ten percent excited. Fine, seventy/thirty. Maybe fifty/fifty. I had only seen one peen in person and it wasn’t anywhere close to the size of Levi’s.
“What are you laughing about?” Payton asks, glancing through me and looking straight into my guilty conscience.
“Nothing.” Yeah, might as well just tattoo the phrase thinking about penis across my forehead.
“I don’t believe you, but I’m too drunk to try to get it out of you right now. Let’s head out,” she says, leading our group towards the parking lot. “Get it? Head out,” she adds with a laugh. Dean rode here with Ryan so he can take Payton’s car, which only leaves AJ’s behind in the lot. We’ll get her back here tomorrow to pick it up.
As I climb into the back of Ryan’s truck, I glance back over to the stage where Levi is performing. He probably doesn’t realize I’ve left yet, but I’m sure he won’t care. He’ll have company later tonight and doesn’t need to worry about trying to get me home. Even if my home is directly across the hall from his own. At least I’m not right next door and have to listen to loud stuff coming through the walls.
Thank goodness for small favors.
* * *
It’s not even eight and I’m ready to head out. Most Sundays are spent completely opposite of the rest of my days: leaving the house. As an editor for a large publishing company, I spend most of my days behind my computer screen. But on Sundays, I do everything I can to get out and enjoy a little fresh air.
Today, I’m meeting Lexi at her salon for a color and cut. To me, hair is hair, and it doesn’t matter to me what mine looks like, but Lexi is a perfectionist beautician and would rather die from paper cuts than let me walk around without highlights and a regular trim.
Whatever.
My hair appointments are almost always on Sundays, when the shop is closed and we can talk about anything and everything. It’s one of our bonding times as twins, and I look forward to it like clockwork every eight weeks. The best part is I don’t have to do my hair or makeup to go out. She’ll fix my hair, and often plays around with new eye colors or smudge-proof lipsticks.
I gather up my purse and tablet, hoping to get a little reading in while I’m under the dryer. And not work-related reading, I’m talking about something I want to read for enjoyment. Something that’s already edited and corrected. Today’s selection is somewhat of a regency novel. I normally stick to straight rom-com romance, but since I’m working on stepping outside of my box, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to give other genres a try too. And this is still romance; it’s just set in another time period.
Grabbing my keys from my purse, I step through my door and into the hallway. I pull it closed behind me, turning the lock to confirm it’s secure, when I hear the door behind me open. Levi has always been an early bird, using the sun rising as his excuse to go for a run, so I prepare to greet my friend.
Only this isn’t Levi.
She’s wearing a dark purple dress with tall black sandals. Her jet black hair is pulled back in one of those messy buns that some women have the natural born ability to create, and her pretty face is makeup free. She doesn’t notice me standing there, staring, but turns to face the inside of Levi’s apartment.
