Page 2 of Make Me

Sam starts to scratch at the door, so I open it and she comes out. She’s a German Shepherd I rescued from a shelter. She comes and sits next to me, her tail bouncing on the deck. She’s about the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen, with several scars on her face, but her attitude is the opposite of her looks. She rubs herself on my leg, signaling for me to pet her. She’s also the neediest female I’ve ever been around, and I’ve dated my fair share. I reach under my chair and pull out my joint, not caring that it’s early in the morning. I only allow myself to do this on my days off, and I plan on taking full advantage this weekend.

“You’re such a needy girl aren’t you, Sam?” She throws her head back, closes her eyes, and sticks out her tongue. “Your breath is horrible, by the way.” She ignores me but doesn’t move away from my hand. “I can’t do this all day, Sam. I need a shower.” Sam quietly whimpers, and when I move my hand away, she rubs her head on my leg again.

My dog finally walks to her water dish and leaves me alone. I sit back in my chair, light my joint, and take my first inhale. Even better is the fact that Candace is in Chicago for her sister’s bachelorette party, saving me from pretending we’re still a couple, even though I ended things with her almost a month ago. I thought I was done with her, but since we’re both in her sister’s wedding, we decided to keep the breakup to ourselves. But just before she left for Chicago, she told me she wanted to try again.

While I ponder how I’m going to spend my weekend, I hear the giggle of a small child and rapid footsteps. I leave my joint on the side of my mouth and stand up, ready to hold Sam back. Sam often scares children. Not because she’s a mean dog, but because she likes to play and doesn’t know her own strength.

“Hi,” a little voice says to me. She’s a tiny little thing. She looks to be about two, but she’s short and stands on chubby legs. She’s in a Mickey Mouse robe with a matching nightgown and slippers.

“Hey,” I say, looking around for a parent. She puts her legs together, sticks her feet in opposite directions, raises her hands, and squats, bending her knees. She giggles and does it again. I have an eight-year-old niece, and I’m pretty sure this little girl is trying to do ballet.

“You do it,” she says, pointing her chubby index finger at me. I snort at the bossy little thing and do the best plié I can. A laugh escapes, and I almost drop my joint. Sam comes walking beside me and starts to vigorously shake her tail at the sight of our intruder.

“Doggie!” she squeals. She straightens up, and before I can stop her, she runs up the stairs and grabs Sam’s tail. Sam turns around and bumps her nose into the little girl’s face. She falls on her butt, but instead of crying and running away in fear, she laughs. “Doggie,” she squeals again. For a chubby little thing, she’s fast. She jumps to her feet and wraps her arms around Sam’s neck. “My doggie,” she says.

“I’m pretty sure Sam’s my doggie, kid,” I say with a laugh. I take another long drag of my joint.

“Mine!” Her little voice fills my yard. The little girl starts to run around me, and Sam follows.

“Ivy!” a throaty but panicked voice says. I hear running footsteps, and a figure in black yoga pants and a grey tee shirt comes to a complete stop in front of my deck. She puts both hands to her chest and exhales in relief when her eyes land on the toddler playing with my dog. She ignores me and runs up the steps. She grabs the child and puts her on her hip. “Don’t do that, Ivy. You scared Mama half to death. I think I have gray hairs now,” she says. She squeezes the child and plants kisses on her neck.

I don’t see any gray in her hair. What I see is a head of tight curls with light brown highlights. The sun kisses her golden-brown skin, and the tiny stud in her nose sparkles. Both intruders are cute, but the newest one has big eyes that are so dark, they almost look black. It’s been ten years, but I still remember those eyes.

She’s about the same height as she was when we were in high school, and she barely reaches my chin. Still curvy, and I can’t help but admire her wide hips and full breasts. Even with only the view of her profile, I can tell she has a round ass. So round and thick, even my big hands won’t be able to cup it fully. I take the joint out of my mouth and lick my lips while I admire her body.

“Look, Mama. My doggie,” she says, pointing at my dog. Sam, always hungry for attention, rubs herself on the leg of the second person to interrupt my morning so far. Lucky dog.

“I’m sorry she bothered you. We just moved in.” Her voice is as sultry as I remember. I take a step closer to her, and she doesn’t back away. She looks up and locks eyes with me. Laci Williams.

Her eyes widen in recognition, and she steps back. She misjudges her steps and trips, falling backwards. Sam’s barks fill the yard, and I reach over and grab Laci and Ivy. I pull harder than I should, and I end up losing my footing and fall back on the chair. They fall right along with me. My intruders end up on my lap with my arms wrapped around them. Ivy starts to laugh, and when Sam comes closer, she rubs her fur and Sam licks her face.

Laci’s eyes widen in shock, and as if I have no control over my own limbs, my hand ends up on her ass. I was right about my hands not being big enough to cup it fully, but I was unprepared for how firm it feels.

Unable to stop myself, I give both cheeks a squeeze.

“Hands off,” she says, her eyes locked with mine. Instead of simply dropping my hands, I slide them down her ass until they fall off and hang on the side. Her nostrils flare, and her eyes shoot fire at me right before she jumps off my lap and runs across the yard with the child in her arms.

I watch them until she runs through the sliding glass door of the house and shuts it. She pulls the blinds, and I imagine she makes sure she locks the door before the pervert next door follows her inside.

Now that my visitors are gone, I run inside for my phone. When I return to my deck, I light my joint again and scroll through the lease. Laci Hogan. She used to be Laci Williams, and I never even thought that the two names might refer to the same person.

I still remember the day I laid eyes on her.

* * *

Ten years ago

“Coop!” Candace screams in my ear. She’s holding onto me like a baby primate. Her arms are around my neck, practically choking me, and her long legs are wrapped around my waist. It’s our lunch period, and since it’s still fall in Michigan, we’re outside goofing off while we watch the underclassman run around the track.

Candace screams again, and I spin around to dislodge her. She jumps off my back mid-shriek and throws herself on the ground. Right next to us, her sister, Cami, and Cami’s boyfriend, Chad, roll their eyes at her dramatics. I offer her my hand. She takes it, and I lift her up. She stumbles, but she comes to me, wraps her arms around me, and gives me a kiss on the lips.

I pull away.

“I’m so glad this is our last year here,” she says, running a hand through her long blonde hair. “I want us to go to the same college.” I nod, knowing full well that probably won’t happen.

The side door to the school opens, and Mr. O’Mara walks out, blowing his whistle. I grab Candace’s hand so we can go sit on the bleachers. As soon as we sit, Candace attaches herself to me. When I subtly move a few inches away, she moves right along with me.

“Look at those freshmen,” she says. “Look at that fat one over there.” She points in the distance, but I bristle at her words. “He’s going to pass out. No way does he make it around the track once.”

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