The Leftover Club Read online

  Maybe that was why nobody blinked an eye when I opted to ride in Dylan’s brand new, cherry red Corvette his father had bought him for graduation. Because he couldn’t be bothered to travel across the country to see his only son graduate in person, the gift had to be even more elaborate than usual.

  On our way up to Sequoia, Dylan confided in me that was one of the reasons he had decided to go to school back east. His father lived in Connecticut, so Dylan’s living in New York would give them ample opportunity to make up on all the time they’d missed.

  The elder Fenn was still a prestigious Manhattan doctor, still on call and would likely put his career ahead of his son, but if he was willing to pay the tuition so that Dylan could pursue his dream of being an entertainer, then who was Dylan to squabble over the minor details?

  “Not seeing your dad is a pretty big detail,” I reminded.

  “I’ll see him more going to school in New York than I will going to school out here,” he shot back. “Besides, it’s New York. I hear if I can make it there, I can make it anywhere.”

  I rolled my eyes at his joke.

  “You should come with me.” I laughed out loud. “Come on. I’m serious. What better roommates than people who have already lived together for so long?”

  I shook my head. “My place is here. Mom’s here. My friends are here. Unlike you, I have no reason to go to New York.”

  “You have me,” he grinned and I quickly averted my eyes. I hated it when he said stuff like that. I knew he didn’t mean it.

  “I have a life here,” I corrected. “I know it’s not all that exciting to you, but I’m actually really looking forward to it.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “I can’t see you living in a dorm.”

  I cleared my throat as I looked out the window. “I’m not moving into a dorm.”

  He shot me a quizzical glance. He already knew that both the Moms had decided to scale down after we moved out, selling the house and getting another place, perhaps separate places, all of their own. A new phase of their lives had begun, and kids weren’t exactly a part of it. “Where do you plan to live?”

  “With a friend,” I answered noncommittally. He let the question linger in the silence that followed. Finally, I said, “Okay, I’m going to tell you but you can’t breathe a word of it to our Moms until after the trip.”

  He used his finger to cross his heart. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Bryan and I are getting a place together.”

  I watched him mull that over quietly. “It makes sense,” he finally conceded. “You guys have been close for years.”

  “The closest,” I agreed.

  “Your mom is still going to have a conniption.”

  “The biggest,” I agreed again.

  A moment of silence passed before he asked quietly, “Are you sure you’re ready to take that kind of step, Roni?”

  My answer was immediate and emphatic. “More than ready. I can’t wait.”

  He nodded and that was the last we spoke of it on the drive north. We stopped for lunch, and then hit the road once more. Dylan kept me occupied with all his new music. He still favored metal, although hair bands had been replaced by more aggressive bands. He shared some of his new favorites (Guns N’ Roses) and we talked about his favorite movie (Crocodile Dundee.) I mostly smiled and nodded. I knew he wasn’t interested in my favorite band (Bon Jovi) or my favorite movie (Big.) I had well-worn cassette tapes in my bag but I would never suggest that he play them. Most of my newer tastes leaned toward pop and dance, especially after hanging out at Eleete. I would have been embarrassed for him to see my guilty little pleasures.

  He carried the conversation all the way up Route 99, over the Tejon Pass and through the heartland of the San Joaquin valley. It was after four in the afternoon before we reached the Sequoia National Park.

  My breath caught as I stared at the majestic trees that where hundreds of feet tall and thousands of years old.

  It made me feel small and insignificant in comparison.

  The Moms decided we should settle into our cabins. The drive had only taken six hours but we were all ready to head to our private quarters and freshen up.

  It was the first time I had a place to myself and I was really looking forward to it. The cabin was rustic and it was small, but I didn’t care. For one week only, it was mine all mine. I unpacked my suitcase and made myself at home.

  My mom dropped off some groceries and personal supplies from the bounty they had stuffed in the back of her station wagon. I already had my boom box going, playing my music at last, as I spread my blanket on the bed and adjusted the pillows I had brought from home.

  “Doesn’t this look cozy?” she praised with a happy smile. She laughed as she wiped away tears with the back of her hand.

  She had been crying a lot this past year. She cried when I took my graduation photo with my cap and gown. She cried when Bryan and I went to my senior prom. She cried from the audience as I walked across the stage and accepted my diploma.

  Her baby was growing up. And I knew this was bittersweet.

  “I wish your dad could have lived to see this,” she had said to me at graduation. “He would have been so proud.”

  I nodded, though I couldn’t have said anything if I wanted to. Whenever big events happened in my life, I always felt the big, gaping hole left by my dad’s death when I was a kid. It was like an emotional sucker punch.

  What was sadder still was that I no longer really remembered him. All memories were frayed by time, out of focus and blurred, as though they belonged to someone else entirely. I didn’t remember what his face looked like or the stubble of his beard or the sound of his voice. I could no longer feel the big hugs that lifted me right up off the ground or his broad shoulders under me as he carried me piggyback wherever I wanted to go.

  I just remembered the idea of him, and how when he was around I didn’t feel so empty. I also didn’t feel so scared. It was back before I knew life could turn on a dime, and no one was promised anything.

  Actually that wasn’t true. We’re promised plenty when we’re kids, our futures filled in with all these things accepted as universal experiences, like having a dad to walk you down the aisle, or having your parents live long enough to retire somewhere in Florida, where they can spoil their grandkids with annual trips to Disneyworld.

  When I was six, I learned all that was bullshit. There was only one guarantee. You love someone, you risk losing them.

  I don’t think I ever forgot it.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to me now as she giggled at her overly emotional response. It dawned on me then that my mother loved me, and now I was leaving her, too.

  “You don’t have to be sorry,” I said as I stopped what I was doing to give her a big hug. My mother was my hero. She had worked so hard for so long to give me the best head-start that she could. Because of her, I was heading off to pursue higher education, likely writing my own ticket for my own life, which never had to depend on a man at all.

  Thank God for the 1980s.

  But I knew that the transformation was not going to be an easy one. It was both terrifying and exhilarating to think that in a few short months, I would be out on my own. Thanks to living with Bonnie for more than a decade, my mother had been able to squirrel away enough to pay for my schooling and give me a modest living allowance. I was stunned when I saw the check, which she gave me as a graduation present. If I lived frugally enough, I could make most of it last while I was studying full time, which meant I only had to find full-time work during the summer.

  This meant my time as a carefree high school student was over. Gone were the mornings sleeping in, the set schedule of classes that had me home by four, with only an hour or so of homework to work around my robust TV-watching addiction. I was a brand new adult, and I would be making my own sacrifices from now on.

  I envied Dylan’s confidence. Here he was moving to a strange city on the other side of the country, far away f
rom everyone and everything he knew, to try and mend fences with a virtual stranger. Yet he looked as carefree as he always did as he helped the Moms prepare our dinner that night on the deck.

  The sun cast fading light on the majestic mountaintops. All I could do was suck in fresh air and stare at Mother Nature in all her glory.

  After dinner Dylan asked me to join him on a walk down to the nearby river, but I shook my head. I was really tired after our long drive. Nothing sounded more heavenly than retiring to my private cabin for the night. I cracked the window and slept like a baby until dawn broke the next morning.

  The Moms cooked breakfast, which we all shared as the sun inched higher in the cloudless sky. Then we drove a couple of miles into the park to start the first official day of our vacation.

  We headed right to the Giant Forest to meet the iconic General Sherman at last. Standing 275 feet high, this proud giant sequoia had presided over its surroundings for more than two thousand years. I got dizzy as I stared up at it, so much so Dylan had to steady me with one hand.

  My surroundings invigorated me. It was almost too beautiful to be believed. I wanted to keep walking, to see everything, to experience it all. I was still raring to go even after The Moms had pooped out after a four-mile hike. We ultimately turned back toward the cabins, where the Moms decided to spend their afternoon on the decks reading a couple of books.

  This time when Dylan asked to head down to the river, I didn’t hesitate. We headed down the hill together. The terrain was flat but rocky, with tall trees surrounding the area like sentries on guard. He lit up a joint, which I shared. I inhaled deep the smell of the trees and the dirt, feeling like we were at one with the universe.

  “We should go rafting,” he suggested.

  I shook my head. “This is perfect,” I said as I sat on one of the rocks near the foamy river. It was large and flat enough for me to lie on my back and stare through the tiny opening in the trees toward the blue, cloudless sky above. I took another hit and just allowed myself to be a part of it.

  He joined me on the next rock over. “Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

  “On dry land,” I clarified with a pointed glare. “This is perfect.” I kicked off my shoes and stuck my feet in the water. It felt like cool heaven against my skin, which had been warmed all day by the relentless summer sun. Dylan had an impish smile on his face as he studied me thoughtfully for a moment. Before I knew it, he was tugging off his shoes and tossing them on dry land.

  I watched him shrug out of his shirt, baring that sculpted torso once more. “What are you doing?” I asked, much sharper than I intended.

  “Going for a swim,” he said before he started to release the fastener on his jeans.

  “It’s dangerous,” I said as he stripped to his briefs.

  He shook his head. “You heard what the caretaker said. Guests love swimming in this area because it’s safe and it’s private. So no one,” he said dramatically before he pulled down his briefs, “is going to look.”

  As God as my witness, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his naked form. I had dreamed about him in some form or fashion since I hit puberty, but there was nothing like seeing him stand before me, naked as a jaybird, offering his hand to me so that I can join in his spontaneous debauchery.

  I shook my head. “No way.”

  “Chicken,” he teased with a smirk I swore was going to be the death of me.

  “Dylan, be serious.” There was absolutely no way I would get naked in front of him. Hadn’t he figured that out by now?

  Sometimes I swore that he did these things just to get a rise out of me.

  “I’m serious as a heart attack,” he promised as he crossed his heart with his finger. “We’re adults now, Roni. Let’s live life on the edge.”

  If he was near an edge, I would have pushed him off of it. The longer he stood there, the madder I got. “Don’t be stupid. This is not something that you and I should ever be doing.”

  “Why not? Because we’re friends?”

  “Yes,” I sputtered, as if the answer should have been obvious.

  “I would think our being friends would make this a perfectly safe and innocent thing to do. I mean, what do we have to hide from each other, really?” He waded out into the water until he stood waist deep. “Truth or dare,” he called out.

  “I’m not playing this stupid game with you,” I announced. “In fact, I’m sorely tempted to go back to the cabin until you stop acting like an idiot.”

  He laughed. “You won’t,” he predicted easily before he dunked himself. “You want to stay right here.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “You certainly sound sure of yourself.”

  He shrugged. “If you were going to leave, you would have left already.”

  I sputtered more as I stared at him. He had my number and I knew it. I grew hotter by the second. “Fine,” I said as I unbuttoned my shirt. Maybe it was the pot. Maybe it was the fact I was tired of him toying with me like a stupid cat with a timid mouse. He wanted to see me naked? Fine. Then maybe he’d stop teasing me at last and spend his time chasing after one of his endless size-2 cheerleaders.

  I could feel my face burn as I unhooked my bra and tossed it aside before I lost my nerve. I couldn’t even meet his eyes as I squirmed quickly out of my shorts. I was in the water, quick as a shot. I heard him chuckle the closer I got to him.

  “There,” I announced with a tilted chin. “Are you happy now?”

  “Not yet,” he mused before he dunked me under water.

  I came up gasping for air. He swam easily away from me so I chased after him until I dunked him in the water. The more we frolicked, the easier it was to forget we were both completely naked.

  He gave me another heart-stopping smile. “Isn’t this better than sitting on the sidelines?”

  I glared at him. “Yes,” I admitted at last.

  He swam a little closer. “You know what your problem is, Miss Lawless?”

  “I can’t wait to hear it, Mr. Fenn.”

  “You make everything so much harder than it has to be. Why do you do that?”

  “Because things do come harder for me,” I said softly, knowing he’d never understand. He was one of the blessed ones, one of the beautiful ones.

  “It doesn’t have to,” he replied just as soft. “You can have anything you want. It’s all there for the asking.”

  I shook my head. He had no idea.

  “What’s standing in your way?” he wanted to know.

  “Me,” I finally said.

  His eyes glittered as he stared at me. “That’s the first honest thing you’ve said.”

  I started to turn away but he pulled me back. “Truth or dare?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not playing.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Neither am I. Truth or dare?”

  If he asked me what it was that I wanted most, I would have been mortified to answer. I don’t think I would have even had the presence of mind to lie. Finally, with a hopeless shrug of my shoulder, I said, “Dare.”

  Those dark eyes consumed me. “Come here,” he said softly.

  My core caught fire from the look in those eyes, yet I was frozen as he pulled me closer. I was a goner as his head bent toward mine. When his warm mouth covered mine, I thought I might actually dissolve right into the water.

  Indeed he wasn’t playing around as his tongue pried my lips apart to deepen the kiss. I clutched at his strong shoulders, which pushed our bodies together under the water’s surface. I felt him stir, semi-hard against me. He was breathless as he pulled away. “Touch me,” he commanded as he held me fast in his gaze.

  I knew I should refuse. I knew I should swim as far away from him as I could get. If I stayed in his embrace a second longer, I risked confiding in him how passionately I had loved him since we were nine fucking years old. If I touched him, if I felt him in my hand, I would never be able to hide those feelings again. He would know at last how much power he’s always had over
me.

  And then he’d leave… and I’d be right back where I started. Abandoned by the man I loved most.

  I wanted him, I couldn’t hide it. And it was the very worst thing that could happen to us. “Dylan…,” I started but his hand circled my wrist and pulled my hand toward his body. I thought I might faint as I felt him fill my hand at last. There I floated with Dylan Fenn’s dick in my hand. It was unimaginable. Even my dreams had never gone this far.

  My resolve evaporated as his cock jumped in my grasp, growing and lengthening until a hunger awoke deep in my belly for something I had never before experienced. I felt empty, and I knew only Dylan could make me feel whole again.

  And I wanted it. I wanted it more than anything.

  He guided my hand until his hard-on was rock solid in the trembling circle of my fingers. I wanted to tell him that I couldn’t do this, that this wasn’t right, that we were just friends and really not even that. But those dark eyes rendered me silent as he watched my face while I slowly jerked him off under water. He shuddered slightly before he bent for another kiss, this one harder and more demanding. He wrapped one arm around my waist to pull me closer.

  “Tell me what you want,” he whispered against my lips.

  My brain scrambled. If I told him the truth, I knew I would be powerless to stop the chain of events he had already set in motion. I wanted him, and I knew damn well from the hard cock in my clutch that he wanted me, too.

  And that, truly, was all I ever wanted.

  It rendered all my arguments moot. “I want…,” I started, but was stopped by the look in his eye as he stared at my mouth, waiting for that green light. I sighed. “To stop being afraid.”

  His eyes met mine. “Why are you scared?”

  I shrugged and looked away. “You know. All this.”

  “Have you never done this before?” he asked incredulously.

  I could feel my blush deepen as I shook my head.

  His voice softened. “I guess I should have led with that question,” he quipped. He lifted my hand from his swollen member and pulled me back to the shore.