Page 2 of Side Out

What the fuck?

A younger guy with a mop of dark Mahogany curls on the top of his head is standing at the side of the truck. Reluctantly, I open the door. “Can I help you?”

“We saw the Virginia plates when you pulled in and figured we would offer to help,” says the other man, who’s slightly taller and leaner with a lot straighter, jet-black hair.

“I could use it. You two aren’t serial killers or anything, are you?”

“Emerson Baker.” The one that’s been doing the talking sticks his hand out to shake. “My brothers and I live across the street from ya. This fuck-stick is Dominic. Dom for short, but not in the bedroom… if ya know wha?—”

Dom cuts off Emerson by smacking him in the chest and hissing, “Stop introducing me like that! And that’s not what you were saying last night on your knees with my coc?—”

Not needing to hear anything else, I say, “Okay, okay. Let’s get this stuff inside.”

* * *

Moving with Emerson and Dom was as interesting as you could imagine. We unloaded everything in record time, and I was thoroughly entertained, listening to the two college guys bickering back and forth.

The two of them left me to my own devices a couple of hours ago, and instead of unpacking boxes like I should be, I can’t help but watch out my living room window as, who I assume is Emerson’s brother since he looks exactly like him, unloads a copious amount of groceries from his car. He’s in a worn cut-off, and his muscular, cut arms are on full display. My eyes linger as I examine each inch of them as he’s unloading each bag of groceries. As he bends to get the last of the bags deep in the trunk, I zero in on the way his fucking short-inseam shorts cling to the back of his ass. He’s a work of art.

Suddenly, I realize I never told the two of them I will be working at the school I’m ninety-nine percent certain they attend. And what’s worse, I’m not sure if that was intentional or not.

Fuck, what am I doing…

* * *

I find myself back at the front window, sipping my coffee like the true old fucking creep that I’m turning into. I have two more days of peace until Bridget flies in from her business trip, and I’m dreading her return.

Is it bad that I don’t even know what city she’s in right now?

Yeah… it is.

But I’m too busy ogling my new neighbor across the street.

Emerson and the oldest brother are outside, cutting their grass and taking care of the landscaping—no shirts on. His brother, who’s name I still don’t know, has those damn shorts on again. The sweat is already pouring off of him on this way too hot and humid Florida morning.

I sit down on my couch, watching shamelessly as they finish up their yard, make their way over to the older lady’s beside them, and start to work on hers too. Unlike me, she’s proudly sitting outside on the porch, watching the show, coffee in hand, rocking in her chair—the biggest smile lining her face.

We have a perverted old lady as a neighbor…

And I’m no better than her.

Feeling Good - Nina Simone

CHAPTER2

THIS IS THE YEAR

JACKSON

“Jax! Come shake your ass with me!” Clay yells as he claps along to the beginning beats of ?*Shania Twain’s “Any Man of Mine.”

How he convinced the DJ to play this song is beyond me, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Clay has always had a way of getting people to do what he wants them to. Not in a bad way, though. He’s always had the natural ability to connect with people on a level that others can’t. He’s the definition of a golden retriever, which is why my best friend is probably one of the biggest players on campus.

And I’m not talking about volleyball…

I will admit that Shania Twain is one of the greatest country performers—nope, scratch that—one of the greatestperformersof our time. I would quite literally worship at her feet if she was standing in front of me right now, but there are limits to what I will dance to in front of college students. Now, send me back home to Billings, and I’ll hoedown throwdown to Shania all night long.

“Jackson!” he screams over the sound of the nearing bridge, and I simply laugh and shake my head. Two seconds later, he’s mouthing the lyrics and making his way over to me, and I realize I’m not about to have a choice in the matter. The entire house erupts in chants as they sing along, just as Clay fists the front of my shirt and pulls me toward the dance floor.

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