Page 99 of Hot Mess Express
Pete rises, goes to the door, then looks back at me. “The hell was all that about?” he asks me accusingly, then follows her out.
I stare ahead at the TV blankly, feeling guilty and stupid and angry all at once.
Bridger’s hand touches my back, rubbing me soothingly.
I peer over my shoulder, regretting he witnessed any of that. “I’m a shitty friend, I know.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I don’t know why I went into all a’ that. I think it started with Mrs. Tucker at Biggie’s. She thinks Juniper’s been ruining my life. Then with me bein’ trapped in my own mind all damned day about you guys leaving soon … and then me wonderin’ what the hell I’m gonna do after you leave.”
“After I leave?”
“I’m gonna fall the fuck apart, that’s what.” I let out a sigh and hang my head. “Sorry I’m a mess.”
“You’re not a mess.”
“Uh, yeah, I am.”
Bridger brings his arms around me, his face closer. “You and Juni are both good people. You’re just trying to figure yourself out. Maybe she is, too. It’s okay, Anthony.”
“She’s been nothin’ but nice to me.” I fall back against Bridger with my head lolled onto his shoulder. “But don’t I got a point? I can’t just play around forever.”
He hugs me tighter.
I close my eyes, feeling it. “Is this you fulfilling your duty of holdin’ me tight every day? Thought you’re only supposed to hold me after we fuck.”
“I hold you whenever I need to.”
I try to smile but can’t. “Well, I appreciate it … more than I can be trusted to say, apparently, since every time I open my mouth, I fuck somethin’ up.”
“She’ll forgive you.”
“Oh, now you know her better than me?”
“I know she cares about you.” His lips come up to my ear. “I care about you, too. You’re a tough guy not to care about.”
I wrinkle up my face. “What’s that mean?”
“Means I can’t resist holding you when you’re down. I can’t resist making sure you’re okay. I like to take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, I’m sure of it. But sometimes …” His words are whispers now, tickling my ear. “… it’s nice to let your guard down a bit and let someone else do the caring.” His hands gently run up and down my arms, calming me. “Everything will get figured out in time.”
“In a week’s time?” I ask bitterly.
“Don’t focus on how much time we’ve got or don’t got. Focus on what’s right here and now. Focus on my fingers.” He brushes them down the front of my body, then starts stroking my chest. “How do they feel?”
“Fuckin’ nice.” He grazes my nipples, then gives one of them a pinch. I grunt. “You tryin’ to turn me on or somethin’?”
“Maybe. Is it working?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Good.”
He pinches the other nipple, catching me off-guard. I gasp, let out a moan, then scowl at him over my shoulder. “The hell is this? Sexual distraction therapy?”
