DIXON

After dropping Madison off at her place, I decide to hit the gym and burn off some of my pent-up sexual energy, and also my smorgasbord of sweets. I texted Hunter and he was keen for a workout, and to brag about his night.

After he’s done scarring me with images I so wish I could burn from my hippocampus, he decides to inquire about my night.

“So, how was your evening?” he asks, running on the treadmill beside me.

“It was great,” I reply, my feet pounding on the belt.

“Oh, yeah? How was Marisa?”

I could try and elude him, but I don’t see the point.

“I wouldn’t know,” I respond breathlessly.

“You wouldn’t know? What the fuck are you talking about?” he questions, utterly confused.

When I don’t reply and focus on running instead of talking, he grumbles, “You choked, didn’t you?”

“Call it whatever you like,” I say with a casual shrug. “I call it not catching crabs.”

“There was a time in our lives when crabs were cool, Dix,” Hunter rebukes, and I blanch.

“There is never, ever, a cool time for VD, Hunt,” I say, brushing my sweaty hair off my brow.

“Yeah well, that’s what the new, boring Dixon says. But the old, fun Dixon would be down with a medicated crab wash.”

“You, my friend, are disgusting,” I say, laughing. “And for your information, I didn’t choke, I just upgraded.”

“Whoa, hold up. What does that mean?” he says, his curiosity piqued.

“Why don’t you use that creative mind of yours and figure it out?” I smugly reply, focusing on finishing my two-mile run.

However, one minute I’m running, and the next, I’m almost face planting.

“What the hell?” I bark when Hunter hits the emergency stop button.

“Start talking, Mathews,” he demands as I step off the machine and attempt to catch my breath.

“There’s not much to tell,” I reply, slowly pacing to cool down. “I went home with Madison, instead of the peroxide airhead.”

“Madison!” Hunter yells in disbelief as he hits the stop button on his own machine. “As in Cherry Pie Madison?”

“Yes,” I reply with a smirk, as his nickname for her is quite fitting.

“Holy shit, you dog. Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?”

“Yes,” I counter, stretching my arms above my head.

“You fucking dog!” he screams excitedly, slapping me on the back.

“It’s not like that,” I clarify.

“It’s exactly like that,” Hunter nods. “So, how was it? I know you’ve had a hard-on for her for ages. Did it live up to everything and more?” he asks, rubbing his hands together.

“It’s really not like that,” I say, walking toward the water fountain.

“So what, you’re telling me you had like a slumber party, or something?” Hunter jokingly says as he follows in hot pursuit.

“Something like that,” I say with a shrug, and can’t help but chuckle at the disgusted look on Hunter’s face.

“Sweet baby Jesus! And what, did you braid each other’s hair, and argue over whether Niall or Harry is cuter?”

“Who the hell is Niall?” I ask, pulling away from the water stream and cocking my eyebrow.

When I continue looking at him, afraid for his sanity, he brushes it off.“Never mind. Stop trying to change the subject.”

“I’m not trying to change any subject,” I reply, wiping runaway water from my lips with the back of my hand as I stand to full height. “And there’s only a subject because you keep making it one. Madison and I are friends, and yes, I’m attracted to her, but she has a boyfriend, and I would never screw that up for her because she’s the first girl I’ve met in ages that I actually give two shits about,” I say in a huff, while Hunter smirks.

“You so braided each other’s hair,” he counters, while I punch him on the arm.

We walk to the changing rooms and the fact Hunter has gone quiet is never a good sign.

“Spit it out.” I sigh, as I know he’ll explode if he doesn’t get whatever is festering in his head out in the open.

“I just…” He pauses, looking stumped. “You’re telling me a smokin’ hot, gorgeous girl, was in your apartment, in your bed, and you did nothing?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you,” I reply, sitting on the bench and untying my laces.

“Not even a blowjob?”

“No.”

“Hand job?”

“No.”

“Foreplay?”

“No.”

“Making out?”

“No.”

“Dry-humping?”

“No.”

“What about some over-the-clothes touching?”

“No.”

“A sensual massage, which led to some kind of skin-on-skin contact, which then led to some kind of penetration?”

“No.”

“Dirty pillow talk?”

“No.”

“Playing footsie?”

“No.”

“What about some peeping Tom action when she was sleeping?”

“No.”

“Faked sexomnia?”

“Fuck, you’re one sick man,” I say, pulling a sickened face as I reach for my gym bag.

“Anyone would think you’re a damn virgin,” he states, and his comment reminds me of Madison’s confession.

“Speaking of virgins,” I smugly declare, while Hunter almost gags on his tongue.

“No? No fucking way,” he exclaims, shaking his head, not believing me.

“Yes,” I affirm with a nod. “She pretty much told me she was.”

“I am actually speechless right now. There are no words to convey how I’m currently feeling,” Hunter affirms, appearing to be in utter shock as he slumps down onto the bench seat.

“Good, let’s keep it that way,” I reply, zipping up my hoodie and shouldering my bag. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Wait, where’s the fire?” he asks, standing up.

“Besides in your pants?” I playfully counter, referring to his sordid night with Mandy, and the possible diseases he’s caught from sleeping with her.

“Very funny, you tween.” He punches me in the arm. “Seriously though, what’s the hurry?”

I failed to mention Madison will be staying over for another “slumber party,” and I also excluded the minor detail that Juliet will probably turn up on my doorstep unannounced, and quite possibly naked. I didn’t reply to her text because I didn’t know what to say.

“Man, you really are a masochist,” Hunter says with a shake of his head, as he can obviously read my facial expressions. “You’re letting a chick, who will in no way put out ’cause she’s a damn virgin, and has a boyfriend, sleep in your bed…again. You’re the one who needs to see a shrink.”

I don’t argue with him on that.

“What about the harlot?” he asks, and I decide to leave out the part about her masturbating on my doorstep.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a done deal. I’m out,” I reply unaffected, because it’s true.

“So what now? You become a born-again virgin?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” I answer, looking at my watch. “I gotta go.”

“Dix?” Hunter says, as I turn to leave.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll leave you with one quote that I live by,” he solemnly declares, and I’m actually afraid to hear what he has to say, as I know he does not have one alleged life-changing quote.

“Let’s hear it then,” I say, gesturing with my fingers for him to deliver me his gospel.

“‘Why buy the cow…when you can get the milk for free?’” he replies seriously. “You’ll thank me one day,” he adds with a nod.

Barely containing my laughter, I flip him off and say, “Nice going, Confucius.”

Madison is coming over at 7 p.m., and although she said she’ll eat at her place, I stopped by the supermarket on the way home and grabbed a few things—mainly of the sugary kind.

I’ve showered, tidied up, and caught up on some paperwork, and just as I’m about to settle down to watch the news, there is a soft knock at the door. Looking down at my watch, I see that it’s only 6:30 p.m. It’s a little early for Madison’s arrival, so I wonder who it is.

Muting the TV, I walk over to the door. The moment I open it, my brain tells me to shut it again because Juliet is standing before me, looking utterly devious in nothing but a pink silk dress, which could easily pass for lingerie.