Shit, I’m getting off track here. I should probably do what Rocco says and start at the beginning. But the beginning was a really long time ago. I don’t even remember when I actually fell in love with Gavin. It feels like forever. The problem is that we grew up together and our parents are best friends. Our families have always done everything together, and I’m like a little sister to him. I’m sure he still looks at me and sees a girl in pigtails that used to suck her thumb. That is NOT a turn-on. Wait, actually I think it is. I’m pretty sure they have porn for that. And if I’m not mistaken, Rocco even put it on our list that I should dress up as a schoolgirl for Gavin. Fuck. I probably should have started with that instead of the easy stuff like making him jealous and forcing him to look at my cleavage.
So, let’s go back to the middle instead of the beginning. I met Rocco a few months ago at a sorority mixer, and he very quickly became one of my best friends. Obviously, he didn’t understand why I turned down every single guy who asked me out, so I had to come clean with him. I had to tell him that I’ve been in love with my best friend practically since birth. One night over Pink Poodle martinis, Rocco started to make a list on a scrap of paper from my purse of things I could do to get Gavin to notice me. One thing turned into twelve, and now here I am with a fake gay boyfriend, a few drunken kisses, and one sloppy hand job.
Gavin probably thinks I’m a drunken idiot. I’ve kissed him twice now after copious amounts of alcohol, and last night, I took the bull by the horns. Or the penis by the base.
“Rocco, I can’t rehash what happened last night. It’s too mortifying.”
Rocco puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, giving me a squeeze. “I know, sweetie. But I haven’t gotten laid in months, and I need to live vicariously through you. Tell me everything.”
The bartender sets down another glass of wine in front of me, and I grab it, taking a huge gulp before beginning.
“So, you know that I went to Gavin’s place last night so he could get his mind off of his dad being in the hospital. And of course, since I had a few beers, I had the courage to actually ask him about that kiss last week,” I start. “As soon as I asked him, he got up from the couch and said he had to do something really important for work.”
“Let me stop you right there. What was Gavin wearing?” Rocco asks.
I scowl at him and smack his arm. “Cut it out. It’s bad enough that you drool over him every time you see him. What he was wearing doesn’t matter.”
To be honest, though, I really can’t blame Rocco for drooling over Gavin. He is definitely drool-worthy. Gavin is six feet tall and the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. I don’t even know when it happened—when he turned from annoying little boy to hot as fuck. It’s almost like he went to sleep one night as a little kid and woke up a man—a man with a great body and a gorgeous face with a dimple in each cheek that is to die for. He has short brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and sometimes if I’m lucky, day old stubble that I want to lick.
Rocco shakes his head sadly at me. “It ALWAYS matters, Charlotte. I need to get the visual correct if I’m going to help you. Was his T-shirt molded to his well-defined chest? Did his jeans hug his scrumptious ass? Was he wearing that cologne that smells like a crisp fall day?”
Rubbing my fingers against my temples and closing my eyes, I ignore Rocco’s stupid questions. Why the hell did I think it would be a good idea to enlist my gay friend to help me out with this?
“If you want me to tell you what happened, shut up. This is serious. I touched a penis for fuck’s sake! I touched GAVIN’S penis! In all of our talks about this stupid list, we never discussed the specifics. Like how to give a proper hand job. It was probably the worst thing he’s ever experienced. How am I ever going to face him again?” I whine.
“Stop being so dramatic. It couldn’t have been that bad. If you touch the penis, the penis will be happy. I did have one guy, though, who would only touch my penis with his thumb and forefinger. Like he was trying to milk a cow. I’m not saying I have a ginormous penis or anything, but it’s definitely bigger than a cow’s teat. Tell me you didn’t milk his penis,” Rocco begs.
“It probably would have gone better if I had. He actually said ‘ouch’ and ‘be careful.’ I think I pulled too hard.”
“What the fuck were you doing with his dick? You know those things need to stay attached, right?” Rocco questions me in horror.
“SHUT UP! I told you, I have no fucking experience with this shit. I just reached in and started yanking on it.”
“I think my balls just ran away in fear. Oh look, there they go, right out the front door. GOOD-BYE, BOYS!” Rocco shouts with a wave to the door of the bar.
“I hate you. I really hate you,” I complain.
Rocco laughs and pats me on the back. “No you don’t. You love me. You’re just so cute when you get mad. I promise, no more comments about your inadequate dick handling. Carry on.”
I down the rest of my glass of wine and take a deep breath, determined to get through this horrific story quickly so I never have to speak of it ever again.
Getting up from the couch, I walked into the kitchen to see what was taking Gavin so long. I heard whispering coming from the other side of the fridge, so I headed in that direction. I really should have stopped after three beers. Alcohol gave me liquid courage, but I maybe had a bit too much at that point. All I could think about was ripping Gavin’s clothes off of him.