Restraint is Useless Here

“And then. AND THEN,” Jimmy shrieks, beer spilling from his bottle with a gesture toward his two friends—the dimpled one was already cackling while the green-eyed one shook his head sternly. “Matt ducks left and Zacky takes a right hook to the fucking eyeball right before the show!”

Anna watched as the others erupted into laughter, the glow from the fire pit lighting their faces. A whooping Jimmy doubled over into Zack’s shoulder—who, despite being the butt of the joke, couldn’t help but crack a smile, too.

“Mi amor!” Jimmy called, seeing that he’d nearly emptied his beer on the ground. “El tequila! Por favor mucho arriba!”

Next to Anna on the outdoor sofa, Maria clucked her tongue at Jimmy’s poor attempt at Spanish. “That boy is wasted.” A phrase she normally used with such derision when they’d serve countless slobbering men at Diamond Bar.

But right now, she didn’t look annoyed. Right now, she beamed. She beamed as brightly as a resting bitch face could beam.

Anna glanced up at Maria. “He does appear that way, yes. But what about you, mi amor? When did you get your I Heart Jimmy sandwich board? Maybe a bell to ring, too? Do you have time to discuss when and how all the amor transpired?”

“Good to see you still have that sass in tact,” Maria’s face resumed its stance, walls up, as clucked her tongue once more. “But not a chance in hell.”

“About the same odds that you won’t be hanging around this house regularly with us, then.” This earned Anna the sort of searing glare that used to terrify those drunken male customers.

“AMOR,” Jimmy shrieked again, capturing their attention. “Amor. Babe. Tequila. Right now my liver’s doggie-paddling in the kiddie pool and it wants to fucking SCUBA.”

“Dios mio, Jimmy!”

“Okay, okay,” he held up his hands, twirling a stick in one. “You’re right. I’ll punish myself.” An eyebrow rose suggestively. “Or you can punish me later.”

Maria just stared. “No? Okay, I’ll punish myself,” Jimmy cackled, rubbing his hands together. “Old faithful it is, then. Jim’s going solo tonight!“

The strangest pair, Maria and Jimmy. Even in Anna’s most suspended reality, she couldn’t make sense of it.

“Better hurry, ‘babe,’” Anna joked in a deep voice.

Maria shook her head but obliged. Standing up, she narrowed her eyes at Anna for a moment before lightly flicking her nose. “You know, I don’t remember you being this much of a smart ass before. I’m not sure I like it.” But a quirk of her lip betrayed her.

“Product of my surroundings, I guess,” Anna replied, both of them glancing once more at Jimmy as he tried to rope Matt into singing something about a girl named Lucky. “But come on. I can’t get a grip on this. Throw a girl a bone here.”

“I like his mind.” With a shrug, Maria smiled and began heading toward the wet bar. When she was certain nobody else watched her, she spun back around. “And speaking of bones,” she hissed, then held her up two pointer fingers about 10 inches apart.

Oh. Oh. Anna squeezed her eyes shut in attempt to banish the image burned into her retinas, but failed miserably to erase the knowledge that her wonderful, sweet friend Jimmy was packing heat.

“Curiosity kills,” called Maria, laughter in her voice. “You want a cocktail?”

Anna waved her off, eyes still closed. “Nope, just a bucket to barf in.”

“No barfing allowed,” Johnny chimed in. He was sprawled in the chaise beside Anna, kicking off his flip flops and wiggling his toes. The sight of the heavily tattooed bassist wearing flip flops made her smile. “Not until we start the drinking games, at least.”

“No barfing allowed, period.” The clinking of glass announced Val’s return with an armful of beer. She leaned to the side, a knit blanket slid off her shoulder and onto Anna’s lap. “This is cashmere. It doesn’t pair well with vomit.”

Val and Matt splurged on a full outdoor furniture outfit, complete with a cushioned loveseat, sofa and a handful of full-sized chairs that probably cost three times Anna’s monthly rent, but that was just a perk of luxury. The band’s tour had been twice as profitable as anticipated. Plus, Val insisted that they spend more time outdoors and, more often than not, at least one of the guys would drink himself into a coma out there, so comfort was a priority. Always the mother hen.

The group wound up outside after dinner, as Jimmy insisted on getting his hands on anything that resembled a drum set and ultimately decided chlorine tubs would suffice.

“What’d I miss?” asked Val.

“Just a recounting of how your boyfriend’s a chicken shit,” Brian said, taking the beer from her hand.

“Honestly, Val. You could do better.” Zack grabbed one too, jabbing it toward Matt. “This is what you want to marry one day? The guy who ducks like a bitch and lets his best friend take a sucker punch?”

“Not getting into this again.” Val raised both hands. After she put a beer in Matt’s hand and a kiss on his cheek, she slid under the blanket with Anna, scooting close and mumbling, “Total bitch move. Don’t tell Matt.”

Anna smiled, sipping the beer Val handed her and clinking it to her friend’s. “It dies with me.”

“Matt wouldn’t have ducked if you were me. It’s funny you think you’re his best friend, though.” Jimmy called out, but didn’t wait for a reply before he resumed furiously drumming the buckets with his hands.

“I would’ve ducked if it were any of you guys!” Matt threw up his arms, like avoiding a punch was a no-brainer. “You can’t fuck up the frontman’s face. I’m what everybody looks at!”

“All that muscle and you don’t even use it,” Zack scoffed. “You could’ve taken that guy.”

Matt’s lips pulled down at this. “Not my proudest moment, ZV.”

“Taken him the ass, maybe,” Johnny cackled, crossing his legs at the ankle as he laid his head back. “That dude was twice your size, Shads. He’d have had you pretzeled before you could cock back. Should’ve sicced Gates on him. He’d have been KO’d in three seconds, tops.”

Anna tensed at Johnny’s reference, while everyone else fell quiet. She glanced to Brian, not sure what kind of reaction to expect.

“Don’t be a dick,” Zack snapped at Johnny, but he was looking at Brian.

But Brian just shook his head at the ground with a half smile. “It’s always ‘ass’ and ‘cock’ with you, Johnny,” Brian muttered as he plucked lazily at the strings, tuning his acoustic. He didn’t skip a beat, much to Anna’s relief. “And ‘pretzeled?’ What does that even mean? Are you just verbing any old nouns now?”

Johnny opened his eyes only to roll them. “Jesus, is your house fixed yet? I’m tired of you hanging around all the time.”

“Five more weeks,” Brian replied, holding up a hand and wiggling his long fingers. “You, on the other hand, can fuck off anytime, you know.”

Anna turned Brian’s question over, wanting to break a little tension. “Wait, did you just verb the word verb?”

Brian’s eyes rose to hers from across the fire pit, so dark they looked black as the shadows danced across his face. “I suppose I did,” he said quietly. “But so did you, so I guess we’re both batshit.” Anna swore she saw him wink before turning to Johnny, “Good thing you’ve got the new girl to fight your battles for you.”

“I’ll let her fight any battle she wants if she keeps busting your ass. I need allies. Fucking shithead.” With an irritated exhale, Johnny stood up and stretched. “Whatever. I gotta piss.”

After Johnny started toward the house, Brian set his guitar aside and, leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees. His voice dropped low and playful as he muttered, “New girl.” He grinned crookedly at Anna, sending warmth straight to her stomach.

“Even after all the calories I’ve provided, all the valuable culinary lessons I’ve taught you, I’m still the new girl to you, am I?” Anna clicked her tongue, which was a bit sluggish from all the beer. “I’ll count you out from tomorrow’s hangover frittata, then?”

He groaned in response, hands in the air. “God, don’t take away my frittata. I retract. I surrender.” Brian jerked his chin toward the other side of the fire pit. “Besides, I think we have a newer new girl.”

Maria sat on Jimmy’s knee, a margarita in her left hand and a drumstick in her right as the drummer guided it swiftly across each of the chlorine tubs. Jimmy’s other arm secured her to him—her back to his chest—as he rested his chin in the crook of her neck, his smile wide and unbridled.

“I guess he forgot about Big Bear, then” Anna shrugged, though she couldn’t look away from Maria. There was something disarming about witnessing Maria in this capacity. All traces of her stoicism melted away with Jimmy. Maria had her share of hurt, but never opened up about it. There wasn’t a trace of hurt in her eyes with Jimmy.

“Nah, he’s still working.” Brian shook his head. “Even though it looks like he’s just fucking around. He’s still composing in that skull of his.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Val remarked. “I mean, when’s the last time we’ve seen Jimmy that happy with a girl?”

“You know, I don’t actually know.” Brian tapped his beer bottle to his lips before taking a drink. Anna let her eyes rake over his face and neck as he drank. The slope of his nose and the curve of his cheekbones. His dark, sleepy eyes that saw everything. The lashes long enough to brush his cheek when he blinked. The hair that inched its way toward his chin, begging for a cut that she hoped he wouldn’t get. He was a really, really pretty man.

“But wait,” he snapped a finger. “He did seem pretty content holed up in his hotel room with those twin hookers back in New York City. At least it sounded that way from the other side of the wall.”

“I meant a girl he’d actually bring around the house,” Val shot back. “And don’t act like your record’s pristine, Brian.”

This snagged Anna’s attention. Nothing inside her actually wanted to hear this, so she cursed her loose lips for goading Val with an “oooh.”

“Me?” Brian’s eyes darted to Anna’s for a split second before he let out a laugh. “What’d I do?” He began toying with a wilted edge of the label on his beer.

“Albuquerque. 2006.” Val said simply and without pause. “I’ll spare Anna all the seedy details because she’s the only one of us who still has an unjaded respect for you, but I have an entire arsenal of stories that you’ve since drowned in alcohol.” She tapped a nail to her forehead. “Never forget: I never forget.”

Brian studied Val for a long moment, then blew air out of his lips. “Satan.”

After that, his comments fizzled out, but Anna noted the label of his beer became increasingly damaged.

After Matt called Brian back over to kickstart the opening riff of a familiar classic rock song, Val snuggled close to Anna, escaping the brisk night air and clinked her Coors bottle to Anna’s. As Matt’s gruff vocals tested out a melody, Val whispered, “Are you sure you’re not sick of us yet?”

Anna side-eyed her friend. Alcohol coursed through her veins, warming her and making her head feel light, but she wasn’t drunk enough to feel entitled to any of this. “Yeah, living in my best friend’s mansion and playing mad culinary scientist in her massive kitchen is a real downer.” Anna jerked her chin toward the guys. “The raging bonfire we’re enjoying while actual famous musicians have an unplugged jam session? Kill me now.” Anna grinned at Val’s withering expression, gently bumping her shoulder. “Are you crazy? This is the best thing to happen to me in... God, ever. No like, literally, ever. Totally worth all the shit it took to get here.” Besides the insidious mental anguish, of course, but Anna made light of it—whether to convince Val or herself, she wasn’t certain. “I only wish there was more I could do to repay you.”

“Well, I’m up five pounds since tour,” Val pointed out, but Anna was certain she was making it up. “And you can only see two sets of Jimmy’s ribs now instead of the whole cage. Plus, you and I get to have sleepovers every night.” Val rested a head on Anna’s shoulder. “I’d say you’re doing more than enough.”

“You could wear the French maid outfit I asked for,” offered Johnny as he plopped down onto Anna’s other side, pulling the blanket over him. His skin was cool on her sunburn and he snuggled into her, groaning happily. “Oh, God, yes. You’re like a furnace.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he shushed her. “I don’t even care if I gross you out. Unless I’m offending your religion right now, you couldn’t pay me to move.”

Anna shook her head and assured him, “All good.”

The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, but she was happy Johnny felt this comfortable with her. It wasn’t fair, she thought, that everyone always ganged up on the obvious underdog. Johnny probably had the potential to be a sweetheart if he wasn’t constantly on the defense against the rest of the band.

“But hey, while I’m here,” Johnny said quietly, lolling his head toward her, “I wanted to ask you a favor.”

And then she wasn’t so sure about the sweetheart thing anymore.

---—————-

Brian tried to focus on the chord progressions of Cat Scratch Fever, but his eyes kept darting to Johnny. It had been years since he played this particular song, but muscle memory couldn’t quite kick in when he was acutely aware of Johnny sharing a blanket with Anna ten feet away. She didn’t scoot away from him, either. In fact, she smiled as he sat next to her, speaking animatedly.

And Val didn’t scowl or sneer or frown at him at all. Bobbing her head along to the song, Val kept her eyes on Matt as he sang, occasionally offering commentary or giggling at whatever Johnny was bullshitting about.

And she had the audacity to bring up Red Rocks. It was his first and only time with Molly and by God, how he wished she’d forget.

Brian’s hands tensed a bit at the thought that Val didn’t give a fuck that Johnny—Johnny “Let’s See Who Can Bag the Most Groupies” Seward. Johnny “Pegging a 6ft Tall Amazon Woman in a Handicapped Bathroom Even While Jimmy Barged in to Take a Piss” Seward—was all over her friend. And he couldn’t hear even a syllable of their conversation, so he began fingerpicking a little softer.

God, how Johnny grinned at her. Brian knew that fucking smile, too. It was his creepy smile. Anna still wore that oversized t-shirt from earlier, but only a bikini underneath it. Their legs were probably touching.

Just then, Anna swept her long curls to the side as she turned to face Johnny, completely obstructing Brian’s view of her face.

Was she actually volleying conversation with him? It was Johnny. Johnny was a chipmunk with a bad haircut and a worse attitude. Johnny’s vocabulary primarily consisted of single syllabic words and every synonym for the word dick. He loved his friend, but he was a fuck boy. And she was too damn good.

Brian counted five empty beer bottles on the ground next to her chair. That partially explained it; she got really chatty when she drank.

Anna tipped back her sixth beer then, finishing it off. Johnny looked dead at Brian and winked.

This made Brian burn a little. Was he that fucking obvious?

“Get it together, dude,” Zack muttered, nudging Brian’s chair with his foot. Brian’s gaze shot to his friend, snapping out of his rumination. Zack raised an eyebrow at him. “First the percussion disappears and now you can’t keep up?”

Brian spared a glance behind him. Sure enough, one of the chlorine tubs was on its side and had rolled into the rocks while Jimmy’s sticks lay abandoned on the chair next to him. He hadn’t even noticed when the drumming stopped.

“All good, man,” Matt said, standing and stretching. “I’m gonna head in and make sure Jimmy’s not fucking in my bed again. I’ll grab another round.” He pointed to Zack in question, who nodded, then Brian.

“No beer for me,” Brian said with a shake of his head. Matt looked at him like he had three heads. “But hey, check my bed, too. I don’t have a black light on hand and I’m not taking any chances.”

As Matt started toward the house with a laugh, Brian glanced across the fire, ready to talk shit—any shit—to distract Johnny from Anna, but Johnny had disappeared as well.

Val handed something to Anna and Brian watched as she applied lip balm. Despite the fire blazing between them, he could see the sunburn on her face looked painful. Just then, she looked up at him, too. Smiling softly, she waved a pinky at him.

He warmed a bit at that little wave and couldn’t help but grin back. It wasn’t her fault Johnny was a bastard.

The palm trees above rustled with a breeze and Anna removed a curl that had gotten stuck to her lip gloss. He noticed her hair had grown more unruly since they’d first met and she only ever wore it up when she went to bed and when she was cooking.

He liked it down.

He heard Zack exhale next to him and Brian could feel his friend’s eyes through his skull. Always watching. Always fucking watching.

Zack sniffed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knee and into Brian’s periphery. Brian saw him glance at Anna, too. “Where’s your head at, B?”

Fuck off, Zack, is what Brian wanted to say. He hadn’t made a single wrong move since they’d both taken up residence with Matt and Val. Never crossing a line, never overstepping any of the boundaries Val had set in stone for him. In fact, Val hadn’t said a damn word to him about it since they’d moved in. He kept a wall between himself and Anna—mostly figuratively but at night, literally—at all times.

So yes, Brian really wanted to tell Zack that he could fuck right off. Instead, he stuck his guitar pick between his teeth and began plucking a string. It was in tune. Of course it was in tune, because he’d tuned it ten minutes prior.

Zack remained quiet in the chair beside him, but Brian turned to stare at him blankly as he turned the E-string way sharp and plucked it. Again. And again. And once more before correcting it. Then the A. Then the D. And so on until he was finished.

A muscle in Zack’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing further.

Just then, Anna rose to her feet. “God, my legs are on fire under this blanket,” she said, wobbling slightly before starting toward the pool.

“Fucking Johnny,” Val snapped from her seat, eyes fixated on the blanket in her lap. “This loose thread wasn’t here before he sat down.”

Brian got up shortly after. Many of his friends had bowed out and Zack would surely get more curmudgeonly with the next beer, so Brian thought he’d better leave before he himself got any crabbier.

He plodded off toward the house, but was stopped by a quiet, “Hey.” Anna’s voice was soft, coaxing. She patted the paver stones next to her. “Come sit.”

Brian had a refusal on the tip of his tongue, but she looked at him pleadingly. He couldn’t help it; he was weak.

Rolling up his athletic pants, he sat down beside her and stuck his feet into the pool as well. Catching the glow from the pool lights, she grinned with all her perfectly white teeth. That was the thing about Anna that killed him most: when she smiled, it made him feel like she was genuinely happy to see him. His chest ached. He exhaled, “Hey.”

“That fire just about gave me heatstroke on top of a sunburn.” She cupped a hand into the pool, rubbing the water up and down her bare legs. “Is that a thing?”

“You’re the nurse,” Brian replied. “And I don’t know. I don’t really burn in the sun.”

“I don’t really burn in the sun,” she mimicked in a low voice.

Brian chuckled. “Little chippy tonight?”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, gesturing to any skin that was bare. She really did look like a lobster. He’d have laughed if it were anybody else. “I’m just so freaking uncomfortable. I was so focused on dinner that I completely forgot to put that aloe on.”

A slam of the door caught their attention as Matt strode out with an armful of beer bottles and rejoined Val and Zack at the fire, nodding at Brian and Anna as he passed. “All clear,” Matt announced. “No inappropriately located fucking.”

Anna furrowed her brow at Matt’s comment, but then said, “You know what? My dad used to sing Cat Stevens to me at night. The more mellow stuff, though. That Father and Son song.” She wrinkled her nose. “Which I guess was a little weird, because I’m a girl.” She waved a hand. “Anyway, hearing his music made me feel a bit nostalgic tonight. But in a comfortable sort of way.”

Brian loved when she’d offer a glimpse into her life. What did she want to be as a child? Was she shy? What was her middle name? Were her parents kind? He wanted to know everything about her. But in that moment, he honestly didn’t know how to tell her he had no fucking clue what she was talking about. He simply asked, “Cat Stevens?”

She replied by imitating him playing guitar, even sticking her tongue between her teeth like he so often did when he played, then jerking her head toward the fire pit.

“Oh, the song,” he said, nodding. After a moment, he ran his hand over his chin and continued, “Yeah, that wasn’t Cat Stevens.”

“Bullshit,” Anna cried, flinging a pointed finger at him. “It was absolutely Cat Stevens!”

“Cat,” Brian enunciated, then hooked his finger in hers to lower it to the ground. “Scratch Fever. Ted Nugent.”

Her eyes, glossy and bloodshot and obviously inebriated, searched his. When she detected no lie, she slapped a hand on the pavement in defeat. “Fuuuck, you’re right. But I knew there was a cat involved.”

“There was definitely a cat involved,” Brian chuckled. “Was your dad a musician?”

“Oh God, no,” Anna replied. “He was a terrible singer. A genetic gift he bestowed on me, as you know.”

Brian shrugged. “I don’t think you’re that bad.”

“And I don’t think you’re that good a liar.”

Didn’t he know it. He couldn’t even lie to himself.

“Though he did try playing bass in a high school band,” Anna continued. “Turns out he couldn’t get the right hand and the left hand to cooperate, so they kicked him out.”

“Huh,” Brian said thoughtfully. A pool float drifted along the wall of the pool, bumping against his leg. He guided it in front of him, using it as a footrest. “Bad singer. Can’t play bass for shit. You sure your dad isn’t Johnny?”

Anna laughed. “You know, Johnny doesn’t deserve the grief you guys give him. He’s a sweet guy.” She reached her pink-painted toes out to the float, and Brian shifted it she could rest her feet on it, too.

“Johnny is the slimiest motherfucker out of us all,” Brian pointed out. “And I do mean mother fucker, but please don’t make me elaborate further.” Low blow, Brian knew. He flung a telepathic apology to his friend, motherfuckery as he was.

“Believe me, I won’t,” she replied. “Ignorance is bliss and I like to think of you guys as the sweet baby angels you are.” She frowned then, and Brian braced himself for questions about Albuquerque. He let out a slow, steady breath when she went on. “Except I did find out about Jimmy and his ‘heavy artillery,” she threw air quotes around the phrase and sighed before continuing, “So I’ll be spending the next several months in therapy.”

Brian laughed uproariously. “It’s a rite of passage in being friends with Jimmy. Plus, how do you think he drums so fast? It’s practically its own band member. Only a matter of time before you see it for yourself.”

“On that note, I’m packing my bags tonight.”

“No way, you don’t get to leave me.” Brian voice was low, sincerity coming out more than he intended. And way more than the conversation called for.

Anna’s expression grew perplexed with his tone, but there was a flicker of something else. Something he shouldn’t acknowledge.

Brian leaned back to rest on his elbows, peering up at the sky then; he had to take his eyes away from her. “You can’t leave,” he repeated. “I kind of depend on our nightly rehearsals to, uh... drown out the noise.”

“I was hoping I’d imagined it,” Anna groaned exasperatedly into her hands, lowering herself to the ground beside him. Their cohabitants had active sex lives and were very vocal about it. “Val’s always been a performer. That’s the fire sign in her, I guess.”

“So has Matt,” added Brian. “But I don’t know anything about that star sign shit.”

She propped herself up on an elbow. “When’s his birthday?”

“July 31.”

“Ooh, he’s a Leo. It makes so much sense now.” Brian must’ve looked confused, because Anna clarified, “Leo’s a fire sign, too. Lots of passion, loves the spotlight.”

“Accurate,” Brian nodded. “What else you got?”

Loyal to a fault,” she listed. “Kinda jealous. Kinda self-absorbed. Lots of... love for mirrors.” She paused, holding up two finger an inch apart. “Bit ostentatious.”

“A bit,” Brian agreed with a chuckle. “So they’re perfect for one another.”

“When were you born?” Anna asked.

“Not falling for that,” Brian snorted and shot her a look. “You read Matt for all his trash with just his birthdate. I can only imagine what you’d see in the blackness of my soul.”

“I have yet to see anything dark in you,” she replied matter-of-factly.

If only you knew how often I fantasized about gruesomely murdering your ex-boyfriend, he thought.

He tucked the thought away and looked up at the sky again, met with an eyeful of light pollution but would’ve loved to glimpse a star or two. It was cool for Southern California, but probably warm for anywhere else. “Jesus, between Jimmy and Maria and Matt and Val, I’d say we’re in for quite a summer.”

“Until you leave me,” Anna pointed out. Slowly, she walked two fingers across the stone patio and gently flicked Brian’s hand. “You’ll have your place back soon. Then what do I do?”

She asked a good question. Brian had no plausible reason to stay at Matt and Val’s beyond the end of renovations, which had a proposed completion date of exactly 5 weeks from that night.

Ringlets sprawled around her head like a halo on the pavement, her fingers mere centimeters from his as she watched him watch her. For far too many moments too long to be platonic. Sure, he could ultimately blame the alcohol, but the fact was, he didn’t really know how much longer he’d just get to look at her unhindered like this.

Goddamnit, he didn’t want to sleep in a room that wasn’t 4 inches of 2x4s and drywall away from her. Didn’t want to go back to eating cereal and Oscar Meyer hotdogs every day. Didn’t want to play music with no accompaniment but the echo of his guitar off the vaulted ceilings.

In that moment, he didn’t want to give a shit about Val. He didn’t want to give a shit about Jack or Johnny or Zack or any objections thrown at him from any direction. He looked down at her and smiled sadly, because as much as he didn’t want to give a shit, he did.
He couldn’t be that fucking selfish.

But then he felt the whisper of a touch and his back went rigid. Brian glanced down to watch Anna as she traced her finger along the bottom of his sleeve tattoo. Arm curled underneath her head, she lay there studying his arm attentively.

“All these monsters,” she whispered more to herself than him, as her fingers danced along the swirls of color. She had rolled onto her side and her oversized shirt had slid up her stomach, revealing a loosely tied bikini bottom and a sliver of stomach. She guided his arm over and examined further, stopping to run her thumb along his pulse point and he had to physically stop himself from groaning. No doubt she could feel every molecule of his lust from the thrum of his pulse alone. “And yet you’re so good.”

She peered up at him, lashes long and eyelids heavy, and asked again, “What do I do when you leave?”

Brian swallowed hard, closing his eyes and warring with the strangest impulse to explode or cry or whisk her away to the nearest bedroom and bury his face between her legs until she fell apart. His heart pounded and he felt himself stiffen. He replied, the desperation in his voice just barely controlled, “I’ll just have to burn my fucking house down.”

Smiling blissfully at his answer, she rolled onto her back. Brian took the opportunity to adjust his full-blown erection into the waist of his pants and he sure as hell was grateful for the thick hedge of greenery that shielded him from sight, rustling gently behind them. Val obviously hadn’t seen, or else it wouldn’t be nearly as quiet.

“I’m so tired,” Anna yawned. She was completely unaware of the effect she had on him—because she was intoxicated. “And so drunk,” she continued, confirming his thoughts. He should’ve been relieved that he could blame her disregard for the usual physical boundaries on alcohol.

He should’ve been.

After watching the rise and fall of her chest for a few minutes—and allowing himself to loosen up—he rose to his feet. “Pedialyte and bed for you, then,” he said, reaching a hand down to pull her to her feet.

Suddenly, a body came barreling at him from behind the hedge, knocking him off balance entirely. Brian barely had time to gasp a breath before he was submerged underwater. He thrashed his arms, his left hand meeting flesh and fabric and he dug his fingernails in deep enough to pierce skin.

Once above water, the first thing he did was breathe.
The next was make sure his attacker couldn’t.

He wrapped his right arm around a neck and squeezed. Whoever it was wheezed as Brian felt a clumsy battering of hands on the sides of his face, so he tightened his grip.

“Brian, wait!” Anna’s voice pierced the air, suddenly sounding alert and awake. Brian was surrounded by maniacal laughter, grounding him and reminding him where he was. She continued, “Johnny, you’re gonna get yourself killed!”

Brian blinked the water away and caught a glimpse of his friends surrounding the pool with varying expressions—Anna still in a seated position at the poolside, Zack looking mildly confused, Val looking mildly perturbed, Matt with a widening smile, and Jimmy sauntering up in doubled-over laughter.

So that meant...

“He looks like Violet Beauregard after the gobstopper, Brian,” remarked Val. “Jesus, let him go.”

The moment Brian released him, Johnny, purple and puffy, pushed away from him and paddled to the side of the pool. “FUCK,” he sputtered, hitting dog whistle pitch. After a few more heaving breaths, he spat, “I thought we had him?”

We?

“This is not what we agreed on,” Anna replied tersely. “I’m not even close to sober. We did not agree on tonight.”

Brian pointed an accusatory finger. “You?”

She held up two hands, an uncertain smile on her face. “I had nothing to do with tonight.”

“You struck an alliance with this shitbag?” Brian asked, flinging his finger toward Johnny.

“Ha!” Johnny laughed with the full capacity of his lungs. “See, I have friends!”

Her eyes widened, looking from Brian to Johnny, then back to Brian. “I felt...” She dropped her voice, “Bad. For him.”

Brian laughed triumphantly, slicking his wet hair out of his face. “Congratulations on your pity friend, shitbag.”

Johnny spun to face her, “You’re my pity friend?”

She laughed an incredulous sort of laugh and shook her head. “No, no, no.” To Brian, she cried, “How could I not? You guys are so freaking mean to him!”

“He deserves it!” Shouted Jimmy before doing a running flip into the pool, his 6’4” cannonball splash soaking nearly everyone. Coming up for air, Jimmy spat a spray of water right into Brian’s face and his cackles turned to bubbles when Brian immediately dunked him again.

“He really does,” agreed Zack, frowning at the splatter on his jeans.

“Oh, stop. Anna’s right,” Val agreed, shooting Zack a look. “You guys are all assholes to him.” Johnny looked smug.

“Nah,” Matt walked up to Val and threw an arm around her. “He kinda does deserve it. He pissed on Brian’s dad, after all.”

“That was forever ago and I thought it was the toilet,” Johnny explained. “I don’t just go around pissing on people.”

“What about that groupie’s mom in Denver?” Matt suggested with a raised brow. “Did she ask you to?”

And that was all it took for Val, with superhuman strength, to singlehandedly shove Matt into the pool—but not fast enough to escape his grasp as he pulled her in, too. They landed with a splash twice the size of Jimmy’s.

“Oh, fuck yes. My favorite sport!” Jimmy hopped out of the pool and ran toward the house, full-body drenched as his wet feet smacked across against the ground. But halfway to the door, he turned around and shoved Zack into the water.

“Motherfucker!” Zack sputtered as he came up for air.

But Jimmy was already to the door. “AMOR, WAKE UP!” he bellowed as he flung the door open. “CHICKEN FIGHT TIME!”

“Towel, Jimmy!” Val scolded, her wet blonde hair stuck to her face, but it was too late. She shrieked playfully as Matt hoisted her onto his shoulders.

Anna turned to Brian and realized his proximity. She motioned to pull her legs out of the pool, but it was too late. He had every intention of paying her back for scheming with the enemy, but also didn’t want to scare her. With a smirk, his hand snaked around her ankle, testing the waters. Asking permission.

She didn’t flinch.
She didn’t pull away.
She leveled her face with his.

“You little heathen,” Brian breathed, tightening his grip and running his thumb over her ankle bone. He watched as her reddened skin turned pale where he applied pressure.

“What are you gonna do about it?” She grinned slowly, pushing her foot against his chest with the smallest amount of resistance. She leaned in slightly and dared, “Chicken.”

Just then, Jimmy ran outside carrying a shrieking Maria. “I just took a shower, Jimmy!”

Jimmy’s entire face was alight as he shouted, “Hold your breath, amor. We’re going in!”

Brian secured his hands behind Anna’s knees and cocked his head. Her eyes called his bluff. Darkly, he warned, “And so are you.”

He pulled.

_______


After several games of Chicken found them ravenously hungry in the early morning hours, Brian and his friends wrapped themselves in towels and gathered around the kitchen island.

The entire spread of leftovers were placed on the counter as Anna reheated plates full of food for everyone—Brian, Maria, and Val offered to help, but she insisted on doing the serving. She’d become a bit possessive about the kitchen. That or she just genuinely loved providing for people.

She had also concocted an iced pitcher of Pedialyte for everyone, which had become somewhat of a staple as a nightcap after Anna pointed out to Val that Pedialyte not only had multiple times the electrolytes that Gatorade had, but also half the calories.

“I can’t believe we’ve been missing out on this our entire drinking lives,” Johnny remarked to Anna, shaking his glass to signal what this meant. “I’m looking forward to a hangoverless life going forward.”

“Right on,” agreed Jimmy as Anna placed a plate in front of him. He mussed the damp bun on top of her head before planting a kiss on it. “Our little nurse, keeping us healthy.”

Anna took a test bite of the leftover potato casserole from the evening prior and made a face at his statement. “Jimmy, you literally drank an entire case of beer by yourself tonight.”

With the fork halfway to his mouth, Matt’s eyes scanned the impressive collection of beer bottles Val had lined up for recycling. He and his friends liked to line them up categorically by who drank what so it was easy to see who had ‘won.’

“Holy shit, you did,” Matt gaped.

“Keeping us healthy,” Jimmy repeated as he touched a finger to the tip of her nose. As per usual, this garnered a smile from Anna. Next to Jimmy, Maria smacked his hand as a reprimand for drinking so much, but he just kissed her in response.

“It legitimately tastes like someone poured salt in a melted popsicle,” Zack said, but he drank it anyway.

Anna didn’t seem to pay mind to the comment, but Brian took it as a personal affront. He rolled his eyes. “But are you hungover the next day, ingrate?”

“Fair enough,” Zack relented after a moment, then continued eating. At least he’d thanked her for the food, Brian noted. Zack was next level bitchy, even for him.

“I don’t feel so healthy after that asskicking in the pool,” Anna said, finally sitting down with a plate of her own. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

Jimmy and Maria reigned triumphant after the saddest elimination round of Chicken—Val and Matt took down Anna and Brian, but neither of them stood a chance against Jimmy and Maria. Brian hated losing, of course, and it was a definite blow to his competitive nature, but he couldn’t lie about the satisfaction of having Anna’s thighs around his neck.

“Don’t feel bad,” Maria shrugged. “I have five brothers.” Jimmy held out his hand to her and she smacked it, unable to hide the pride in her voice.

“Still,” Anna said, shaking out her shoulder. “Even Val took me down with minimal effort. No offense, Val.”

Val waved her away. “Hey, you should come to the gym with me Monday. I signed up for a yoga class. It could be fun!“ Val raised an eyebrow. “Then we could go get ice cream afterward to reward ourselves.

“Weren’t you looking into a self-defense class?” asked Maria.

“I was,” Anna replied. “Never know when it’ll come in handy, you know?” She wrinkled her nose at her own distasteful joke. “Plus, it’d burn off some nervous energy. Other than cooking, I feel like I just sloth around the house all day. I was gonna look into a self-defense class. You know,” She raised a half-hearted fist. “Seize the day and try and regain some control over my life. All that girl power stuff.”

“Girl power the shit out of that girl power stuff, Annie.” Jimmy raised his glass of Pedialyte. “Fuckin’ Rosie the Riveter, dude.”

“Rosie the Riveter wasn’t a fighter you idiot,” Zack pointed out. “She was like, an icon for female equality in the workplace.”

“Well, whipping some dude’s ass is pretty feminist,” Jimmy countered with a shrug, “So I’m not technically wrong.”

“Except,” Anna trailed off, pushing the food around her plate mindlessly. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’d.... work... yet.”

Val smiled warmly at her friend, obviously reading her tone. “Just come to yoga with me, Anna. You’ll be surprised at the muscles you’ll work.”

Brian saw it all over Anna’s face because he knew exactly what learning self-defense required: being attacked. At least simulating it. Regardless, she’d be putting herself into a vulnerable position. But could a traumatized mind truly differentiate? God, especially from a complete stranger. The wheels began turning. Cyrus could do it, Brian thought. But he’s a scary motherfucker that doesn’t exactly radiate warmth, even if Brian knew better.

“Why doesn’t Gates do it?” Matt suggested.

“What?” Brian, Zack, and Val all cried in varying intonations—Val was shrill, Zack was deadpan, and Brian literally needed to hear it twice to process what Matt was suggesting.

“What?” Matt echoed defensively. “It’s not like you don’t know what you’re doing. You do. You’re a jiu jitsu badass. And don’t even act like you’re not itching to get back to it, anyway.”

He was.

“You used to help Cyrus teach the kids,” Matt continued. “Your fucking picture’s on the wall, dude. I don’t pretend to know what she went through, but since it’s a contact sport, Anna might feel more comfortable learning the basics from someone she actually knows and trusts.” His friend held out a palm to Anna in inquiry. “Anna? What do you think?”

Anna quietly studied Brian for several moments. Val did the same to her friend, then to Brian, the hesitance as plain as if his forehead was branded with a scarlet-fucking-A.

“Listen,” Brian said, directed at Val more than anyone, hands out as if pushing the suggestion away from him. “I’m not technically qualified to instruct—“

“I think that’s a great idea,” Anna said, resolute.

Brian opened his mouth to protest, but she stopped him.

“I saw you, Brian,” she said with conviction. “I watched you completely incapacitate a man.” Brian winced at this, but she went on. “I don’t expect to ever be able to do quite the same, but I at least want to know I have a chance. I want to learn how.” Her eyes burned into his, and her voice softened a bit. “I wouldn’t want someone I don’t know.”

Val considered this, nodding and admitting, “She’s got a point.”

Brian had to physically grind his teeth to stop his jaw from dropping. He’d even earned Val’s trust with this; he’d stayed the course. Now the only moral obstruction was how badly he wanted Anna.

He sighed, tapping his steepled fingers against his forehead. “I don’t really know if me training you would do you any favors.”

Except of course he knew he’d do a good job. He knew he’d be gentle and patient and thorough. But to be touching her, to be holding her so close and so hard and so fucking much.

“Please,” she pleaded. “I’d only trust you.”

Like a punch to his gut, it was. There would be no walls now. No constant audience to keep him in check, because he sure as hell couldn’t ask all their friends to come babysit him.

But Val trusted him.
Anna trusted him.
He supposed he could restrain himself enough to trust himself.

“Okay.” He nodded once. “I’m in.”

Notes