As Luck Would Have It Ch. 03byjules9987©
I know you all want longer chapters, and I tried! I swear I did! But then I ended up editing a lot of my efforts out because it was just filler fluff and pointless dialogue. Sorry. I'll try not to keep you waiting too long for the next chapter, but I'm moving cross country later this month, so no promises ;-) Thanks for your votes and comments!
I quickly caught up to the girls and looped my right arm through Hannah's left. Jordan held her right hand. She was breathing heavily and tears were silently trickling down her cheeks. None of us said anything on the short walk back to my apartment in Kenmore Square.
Jordan rubbed Hannah's arm as I searched for the key to my apartment. As I opened the door, we dumped our handbags on the ground and solemnly trudged into my bedroom. We sank down on to my bed, and let Hannah cry. All three of us cuddled on top of the comforter, not bothering to change into pajamas. What were silent tears on the walk home became gut wrenching sobs that shook her body uncontrollably. I knew she felt not only terrified, but angry, guilty, ashamed. I wiped a tear from my own eye as I cursed Zach for destroying her spirit.
"He can't hurt you now. I love you, Hannah. I love you, so much," I whispered into her hair when her sobs quieted down. She squeezed my hand and hiccoughed.
"You're safe," Jordan assured her. We all fell silent as we hugged. Her sniffled eventually died down and sleep overtook us.
I woke up with a start a few hours later as I just barely caught and saved myself from rolling off the bed. Hannah was stretched out, hogging most of the mattress, with Jordan and I precariously perched on the edges. I slipped out of bed, grabbed some pajamas, and headed to the bathroom. I quickly relieved myself and shed my risqué outfit. A very haggard-looking raccoon grimaced back at me in the mirror as I stepped into a pair of boxers and an old lacrosse t-shirt. So much for smudge proof make up. I felt the beginnings of a hang over creeping up on me as the last of my buzz wore off. I fished two tablets of ibuprofen out of a bottle from the medicine cabinet and padded into the kitchen for some water.
As I stood swirling the remaining water in my glass, I suddenly remembered Brad. My tummy immediately warmed and I squirmed as I recalled his hands on my body. I dug my phone out of my purse that I had discarded just inside my front door and plopped down on my hand-me-down couch. Three missed texts!
jack i destroyed him is Hannah pk?
"Yes, Freddie, Hannah's fine," I mumbled to myself.
i meant ok? did u get home? is Hannah relly upset? is she ok? let me no if she needs anything
"Ugh, I don't want to be hearing from you!"
"Really, Freddie? A blank text? How drunk were you?" I grumbled to myself as I tossed my phone on the end table. My brother was the last person I wanted late night texts from.
I snapped my head up to see Hannah walking into the room. Her face was still a bit swollen from crying and her eyes were red, but she managed a weak smile.
"Jesus, you scared me!" I laughed. "Can I get you some water? Ibuprofen? You probably feel worse than me."
"I can get it for myself" she said heading into the kitchen. " Ugh, my head is splitting in two! Where do you keep the medicine?" she asked over opening and closing drawers and cabinets.
"I'll get it. Just get yourself a glass of water," I retrieved the bottle from the bathroom and Hannah joined me back on the couch with a stolen bar glass full of water. We sat in companionable silence for a moment, sipping at our water, before I spoke up. "Want to talk about it?"
Hannah sighed and shook her head as she picked at the edge of one of the fraying red cushions.
She never wanted to talk about it. I worried that bottling it up would only make things worse as it ate her up inside. "Ok. But you know I am always here to listen, right?" She looked up at me and smiled as she nodded.
Zach and Hannah had been lifeguards together at a country club in Newton three years back. She liked him immediately. We all liked him immediately. He was wicked hot, fun, outgoing, and treated her like royalty. He bought her gifts for no reason, refused to ever let her pay for anything, gave her rides everywhere. Hannah had been a virgin, still holding out for at least a very serious boyfriend, if not an engagement ring. She considered Zach nothing but a summer fling. After about a month, things started to go sour when he realized he wasn't going to "get any". It was like he lost all respect for her because she wouldn't put out. He turned nasty, rude, and verbally abusive. It was as if Mr. Hyde came out to play. When their boss witnessed him try to trip her when she was carrying the overnight vacuum to the pool deck, he was fired. We were all really worried that he would blame her for his termination and do something drastic, but luckily Hannah only had one week left of work before she returned to school.
She'd only told us the story once, and she was very sparing with her details, but that wasn't the end of Zach's abuse. About a month or so after the start of the semester, Hannah answered a knock on the door to her apartment and was greeted by a very angry Zach. She has no idea how he found out where she lived, but he forced his way into her apartment and raped her. The only details she shared during a tear-filled sleep over the following Christmas break was that it hurt, she bled a ton, and he had hit her repeatedly and even choked her as he came.
She's changed a lot since it happened. She's much quieter. She used to be little chatty Kathy, but not any more. I don't think she's touched a guy since it happened. I didn't want to press the issue and bring up any more bad memories, she'd had enough for one night, so I just reached for her hand and squeezed it.
"Thanks for taking me home."
"Oh, stop it," I insisted. "It was no big deal. There's no way we would stick around with that kind of ass hole lurking nearby. Plus, you know I hate those kinds of places anyways."
"No I mean it. And you're just saying that. I know you were actually having a good time on the dance floor for once. I'm really sorry I interrupted you with that guy. You never dance like that." Hannah's eyes scanned my face, and I felt awfully bashful as I recalled the way Brad and I were dancing... if you could even call it that. "So, who was he? Did you know him or something?"
I felt my body temperature rise and I knew my cheeks were red. "Umm, sort of." Hannah waited a second, and then twirled her hand around a few times in a 'go on' gesture. She wasn't going to let me keep this to myself. "Well, remember back in March or so, I told you about my neighbor's brother who I had a crush on?" I asked, unable to meet Hannah's eye.
"Shut up. No way!" she squealed, and we spent the next half hour dissecting each and every possible innuendo before our drooping eyelids deemed it too late to continue and, yawning, we headed back to bed.
The following morning we brunched at Trident Café. Hannah reassured us she didn't want to talk about it and she turned the attention to me. I had to rehash all the Brad details for Jordan to hear. "You're fucking kidding me! That was Johnny Cupcake? He's effing hot!" Jordan had consistently referred to Brad as Johnny Cupcake (after her favorite t-shirt store) as soon as I had told her how he'd knocked on my door looking for an egg all those months ago. She determined that he was going to call within the next 24 hours, we were going to plan to get dinner but would be too attracted to each other to make it to the restaurant, and hook up on my decrepit couch. "You're finally going to get laid!" she squawked and beamed at me as the patrons at our surrounding tables eyed us with interest.
Embarrassed, I took a large bite of my English muffin. "Yeah right, Jordan. I bet you ten bucks he doesn't even call within the week!"
"Damn it, Jackie! Don't go jinxing yourself!" Hannah groaned.
"Oh you are so on! Better stop at the ATM girl, because he was all over you last night. There is no way he can hold out for a whole week! His dick would explode." Hannah choked on her orange juice and I couldn't repress on a giggle. "It's true! It once happened to a guy I was teasing and holding out on."
We finished up our meals as I tried to change the subject. Sometimes I couldn't handle how graphic Jordan was, especially when she was being graphic about Brad's penis. After paying the waiter, we went our separate ways, wishing Hannah a safe drive back to Providence. I went grocery shopping and did some other errands, and despite my bet with Jordan, I managed to check my phone every three seconds with the hope that Brad had texted me. Naturally, everyone else in my acquaintance deemed it necessary to call or text me to catch up over the course of the day. By six o'clock Saturday night I was completely frustrated and decided to leave my phone at home when I went out to dinner with my co-worker Chelsea after Freddie called asking after Hannah. I met up with Chelsea by seven and, unfortunately, she gushed about her new nephew, Bradley James, the entire meal. All I could think about for the extent of the conversation was whether Brad's real name was Bradley or Bradford.
Of course, I came home to no new messages. I shouldn't have kept my hopes up with my luck, but a girl can dream. I dragged my feet through my bedtime ritual, and thanked god I didn't have his number. I knew I would have done something dumb, like texted him "sleep tight" or "sweet dreams" in an attempt to get him to text me back, but would only succeed in embarrassing myself beyond belief. I finally fell asleep to thoughts of Brad nibbling my ear lobe as we spooned in my bed.
I slept late the following morning, and then dawdled in bed for ages entertaining fantasies of Brad. I refused to look at my phone for fear of disappointment, and eventually made my way to the kitchen for some scrambled eggs. I frowned to myself as I prepared my breakfast. Eggs, just like everything else in the world at the moment, reminded me of Brad. It was as if my wager with Jordan had triggered some sort of irrational need for Brad to acknowledge that he had my phone number immediately. He needed to prove me wrong, and live up to Jordan's prediction. I couldn't resist any longer and ran to my bedroom to check my phone. Nothing. No missed calls, no messages in my inbox, nada. Letting out a frustrated growl, I stormed back to the kitchenette. I threw some boursin in my eggs and poured them into the frying pan.
After polishing off my breakfast with some OJ, I tidied up my apartment. Well, more like I attacked my apartment with every cleaning solution, brush, machine, and spray I owned. As I ruthlessly scrubbed every tile, corner, crevice, and rug I came up with excuses for Brad. He stuck to the stupid rule that a guy waited a few days before he called. He left his phone charger at work and his cell died Friday night. He was suffering from a two day hang over. His niece, Maisy, broke her leg, needed surgery, and he was at the hospital all weekend visiting her. He fell down the stairs at the bar and was suffering from amnesia. He was a secret agent and was on a mission in North Korea. It was getting a little ridiculous. I puffed up the couch pillows and sat down with a huff. Who was I kidding? He was probably just a shameless flirt who had no intention of ever calling me.
And if he ever did call, there was no way I was going to answer. I was going to make him sweat it out just as much as I was. The second an unkown number showed up on my phone, I was going to ignore it, and make him leave a message. I was not going to be treated like -- my musings were interrupted by my ringing and buzzing cell phone on my counter top. My heart jumped into my throat and I ran over to see who it was. It was a 617 number I didn't have saved in my phone or recognize. Oh my God, it was him! I licked my lips and swallowed hard.
"Hey, sis! You ready for some pizza? I can't wait to see you!"
Damn. I tried to sound happy to hear from my big sister. "Hi, Merry. When did you land?"
"About two hours ago. Got a cute blue pay-as-you-go phone, so this is how you can reach me over the next two weeks! But don't text. I forgot how much more expensive texting is than calling over here. So annoying."
"Well, not really when you have a good plan. And aren't you filthy rich in American terms with all the Euros you're making over there?"
"I wish, if only the exchange rate was as much in my favor as it was a few years ago I'd be a gazillionaire!"
"A gazillionaire, huh? So, are you with Freddie?" I asked.
"Yeah!" Meridith answered enthusiastically. "The little runt picked me up from the airport, then we went out for a quick bite to hold me over until dinner, and we just got me a phone."
"Am I the first you called?"
"Haha, you know you're my favorite, but Freddie insisted I call Mum first to let her know I landed." Merry had always been very protective of me growing up, defending me when Deb got catty and tattling on our brothers when they tore off my Barbies' heads. We may be six years apart, and she may live practically 3,000 miles away, but she still doted on me like I was four years old.
"Did you bring me back anything good?"
"Maaaaybe." I could tell from her tone that I was guaranteed at least a Galaxy bar and a bag of Taytos while the boys all had to fight over Cadbury. I never understood why they preferred it to Galaxy. It had a chalky aftertaste in my opinion.
"Can't wait! What time should I come over?"
"Whenever you want! We're headed over to Freddie's place now. We'll probably order pizza around six."
"Ok. I'll just jump in the shower and be over soon."
"Right. See you soon."
I flopped onto my bed after I got home from the family dinner. Family dinner was always exhausting. I never remember just how loud, boisterous, and chaotic a meal with 10 people can be, particularly when 8 of them are siblings. Not that it was an official family meal. There were only 8 people there, six of us siblings and two parents. But, honestly, once you pass the seven marker, who's counting? I believe Charlie was somewhere over the Rocky Mountains as we ate our pizza, flying home from a business trip, and Billy was still in school. Stanford was on some sort of quarter system that went into June or something. He had explained it to me multiple times. I never understood why they didn't just do normal semesters like everyone else. It was good to see the rest of the fam though, especially Merry. I had guessed correctly, she did bring me back some Taytos and a Galaxy bar, and she surprised me with a big box of Rittersport from the airport. We all squished into the living room area for pizza and beer while watching an exciting Sox game. My brothers were getting a bit too raucous and rowdy, so Debbie, Merry and I moved into Freddie's bedroom to watch the last couple innings.
I groaned and rolled over to my side to set my alarm for the next morning. How the hell had Merry dragged the Brad story out of me? She was so sneaky, I could never keep a secret from her. And she was way too romantic and positive. Originally, my mom had spelled her nickname "Meri," but at eight years old, she insisted that they change the spelling to "Merry" since Christmas was her favorite holiday, and it seems the happy holiday spirit stuck along with the spelling.
"So, tell me about the boy" she had insisted after we found the right channel.
"Ugh, he still hasn't called!" I had replied before I even realized she had tricked me. She always did that. She knew I wouldn't tell her of any early developments with a guy because I didn't want to get my hopes up, so she just asked about him instead of asking if he existed. She just knew that if she asked how he was, I would automatically fill her in and forget to refrain. The sneaky bitch. And so, I had to spill the whole story for the third time in two days.
Debbie claimed that she knew all along that something would happen between me and the neighbor boy. Although she was far less raunchy than Jordan had been, Merry also predicted a happy future for the two of us. Her version included love at first sight, a short engagement, marriage, babies, and a happily ever after. Her explanation for the lack of a phone call: he was too nervous to call because he was so in love that he feared the feeling wasn't mutual. However, she assured me, those nerves weren't enough to prevent him from showing up at my door on, oh, probably Tuesday, with a bouquet of roses. Merry's twisted romantic ways of thinking make absolutely no sense to me.
Frustrated and confused I grabbed some pajamas and made my way to the bathroom. I furiously washed my face and brushed my teeth as my mind reeled. Why was everyone else so confident he would call me? It was seriously messing with my head. Plus, none of them had even met him. Debbie doesn't count. Hell, I don't even count. Less than ten minutes of conversation and a bit of grinding on the dance floor doesn't mean I actually know the guy. I haven't had much luck in the past. Okay, I haven't had any luck in the past, so why should Brad be any different? Why was Merry so sure it's going to work. If I listened to a word she said I'd only end up being hurt ten times more than if nothing ever ends up happening . That was the problem with positivity. If you set yourself up for success, you fall that much further when you eventually fail.
I spit the foam from my mouth and rinsed it out thoroughly. I slipped into an oversized Harvard football t-shirt I don't remember ever taking from Timmy. Maybe it recently got mixed in my laundry during a trip home. I turned out the light and headed back to my bedroom. I turned on the fan and got under the sheets. After about ten minutes of trying not to think about Brad I gave up. What was wrong with me? Why was I obsessing over this guy? It had only been two days, and I was freaking out like some crazy bitch. He was turning me into a nut case. I was over analyzing and freaking out like some psychotic high schooler with daddy issues. I needed to calm down.
I took a few deep breathes and decided to change my train of thought. Hell, maybe he would call. He wasn't on some kind of deadline. He could call me when he had time. Maybe he had a really busy weekend. I mean, we did seem to have a connection at the bar. Even the first time I saw him there seemed to be a little chemistry every time he quirked that incredible smile at me. Oh god. That smile. My insides squirmed a little and I reached for my bedside table. There was one fool proof way to calm down, and I retrieved the sleek purple device from the drawer.
I slipped my hand up under my shirt and tweaked my nipple until it gathered to a sensitive tip. I imagined Brad's hands on me as I started to roll and pinch my breast with one hand as I wriggled out of my undies with the other. A soft pulsing between my thighs began to grow stronger as my ministration to my nipple became increasingly pleasurable and I grabbed my vibrator after I deposited my underwear on the ground. I removed my hand from breast, licked my fingers, and found my clit firm and aching for attention. I moved in slow circles as I imagined Brad naked. I imagined him standing next to the bed, proud and erect as he watched me touch myself. In my mind, I crawled off the bed and took him in my mouth as I switched my vibrator on and coated it in my dripping juices. I nibbled up his shaft, and licked the red trail I left behind before taking him as deep into my throat as possible. I slowly inserted the vibrator into my pussy as I increased the pace and pressure of the circles I drew on my clitoris. I imagined looking up under my lashes into his smooth chocolate eyes as I hummed on his cock and as soon as we made eye contact he hauled me to my feet. He threw me on the bed, covered me with his body and devoured my lips, then ravenously made his way to my nipples. "Oh, god," I murmured to myself as sparks of bliss fluttered in my tummy while I imagined him sucking ruthlessly on my nipple and biting hard.