“You’re a terrible liar, Norma.”
I bite my lower lip. “I didn’t lie. You’re really alive.”
Stone smiles. I realize that I’m still holding his head and straddling his chest. I’ve fantasized about this moment my whole life. His strong, muscular body pushes against my soft inner thighs, and he’s looking up at me, as if I’m a woman and not just his best friend’s sister. In this moment, I know that my dreams are going to come true. Stone Jenkins is going to be mine.
CHAPTER 4
“Weenie roast,” he repeats, his lips turning up in a small smile. His eyes twinkle, and he squirms ever so slightly under me. “And pumpkin?”
“Pumpkin?” I whisper. I’m sitting on Stone’s chest, but I’m the one who can’t breathe.
“Ruby’s candles smell like pumpkin. The odor reminds me of the yellow dress you used to have with lace trim back in high school. I remember you in it and thinking that you were wearing pumpkin-scented perfume, but it was really a candle you had in your room.
“You remember that? The dress? How I smelled?”
“Of course I do. I remember it all. You put on the yellow dress with the lace trim. Your hair was longer then, and you had it pulled back. You wore the dress for that pimply faced guy you were dating then.”
“Jason.”
Stone nods. “Jason. Right.” His eyes are huge and fixed on me. Stone’s never looked at me this way before, like he sees deep inside me. Like he sees more in me than I ever have.
Oh, who am I fooling? That’s not at all how he’s looking at me. I’ve been fooling myself, allowing my fantasies to overtake reason. Stone’s looking at me like he wants to bang my brains out. Like I’m bangable, and he’s the king of banging. That’s all that’s happening...the prelude to banging.
I realize that I’ve been holding my breath, and I inhale sharply. There’s something wonderful and awful about having a fantasy come true, even if it’s only one-half of my big Stone dream. I’ve been waiting for this my whole life, and now it may or may not come true. Either way, it’s the end of the fantasy, and it’s almost like a death in the family. I wish I could press rewind on my life and not fantasize at all about Stone Jenkins. Then I wouldn’t be here, sitting on his chest and waiting to find out if we’re going to do the nasty or not.
Stone grabs my hips and lifts me off his chest, adjusting my position and sitting me back down so that I’m straddling his even better parts. Oh, mama. His hands rest on my hips, sending warm shockwaves through me. His lips curve up slowly into a smile, and I worry that he’s making fun of me. I worry that he knows the crush I’ve had on him my entire life, and now he’s throwing it back in my face. How foolish I’ve been to want my brother’s best friend. Unrequited love is the cruelest emotion. I’d take hate any day over this scorn. Humiliation and regret fill my body with a toxic substance, and I want to disappear or melt to nothing like the Wicked Witch of the West.
With Stone’s hard body under me, his hair singed off and a bruise forming on his left cheek, he’s wreaking revenge on me, pointing out how crazy I am for him and how he’s almost ambivalent about me. I struggle to get off him, but he holds me down on his body. He’s crazy strong, a boulder of a man made of granite.
“Let me go,” I say, tears stinging the back of my eyes. His hands drop from my hips immediately.
A tear rolls down my face, and he gently wipes it off with his finger. “Don’t cry, beautiful Norma,” Stone says, making me cry more. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I shouldn’t have been so forward.”
I sniff. “Are you being forward?” I ask.
His smile returns. “Yes, very forward. Can’t you feel how forward I’m being?”
As a matter of fact, I can. “I thought maybe that was a pistol in your pocket. Or a fireman’s hose.”
“Nope. That’s me being forward.”
I lean toward him and pinch his chest as hard as I can.
“Ow!” he hollers. “What did you do that for?”
“I was checking to see if I’m sleeping.”
“You’re supposed to pinch yourself, not me,” he complains, rubbing the spot where I pinched him.
I close my eyes and pinch my arm. Then, I open my eyes, and I’m still on top of Stone, and he’s still looking at me like I’m a jar of Nutella, even if he’s slightly wary, now. I’m not sleeping. I’m not dreaming. This is all real. Stone Jenkins is pressing his mammoth-sized erection between my thighs.
“So…you want to do something with me?” I ask.
“Sleep with you? Why is that so hard to believe? And you’re awake so don’t pinch me again.”
“Stone Jenkins wants to sleep with me?” I ask to nobody in particular but hoping for an answer. “Stone Jenkins wants to sleep with me?” I repeat.
“You’re killing my self-confidence, Norma. Are you happy or having a stroke?”
