Chapter 9: Swap Meet

Wednesday, June 26, 9:03 a.m.

I wake up to the buzz of my phone on the nightstand, sunlight already slicing through the basement blinds. I squint at the screen, Holly, timestamped 1:17 a.m.

Mom got served yesterday. Huge relief. We should cook her dinner tonight to celebrate. Steaks?

I grin, thumbs flying. Hell yeah. George was an asshole anyway. Still on for Billy/Kelly this afternoon?

Three dots. Then: Definitely. But come at noon, not 2. Kelly and I have big plans. 😈

My dick twitches. Big plans from Holly usually means trouble. The good kind.

Three more dots. Then: Got a good story to tell. Don’t let me forget.

I give her a quick thumbs-up before I roll out of bed, mind already drifting to the last time the four of us were together. Couple weeks back at Kelly’s place. Her parents out of town, projector set up in the basement for Top Gun. Billy and I showed up with a case of Coors. Holly and Kelly already in tiny shorts and tank tops, passing a joint.

Billy’s my ride-or-die since kindergarten, still lives at home, community college by day, party by night. Been dating Kelly two years. She’s 21, a year ahead of us, lives next door to Holly. Runner’s body, long legs, sharp tongue. Always down.

Movie started innocent. Then Holly straddled me, grinding slow. Kelly climbed on Billy. Shorts off, panties pushed aside. Side-by-side on the sectional, me pounding Holly doggy, her face in the cushion, Billy railing Kelly missionary, her legs over his shoulders. Moans overlapping, sweat mixing, the couch creaking like it might break. Came hard, high-fived after like we’d just won state.

Today’s gonna top that.

I throw on shorts, head outside. Jack’s already in the yard, tossing spirals into the tire swing.

“Warm-up time, little bro.”

We run routes, slants, posts, fades. Thirty minutes in, sweat’s pouring, arm loose. Jack catches a deep one, jogs back grinning.

“You’re throwing lasers. Nervous for two-a-days?”

“Nah. Just excited for today.”

He doesn’t ask. Good.

Quick shower, soap sliding over the hard-on from Holly’s text. Big plans? Towel off, jeans and tee, out the door by 11:45. Park down the block. Debbie’s car gone, salon all day. George in Europe. House empty. Perfect.

Knock at 11:55. Holly answers in a red bikini top and cutoffs, grinning like she owns the world. Kelly’s on the couch in a sundress, Billy cracking beers at the island.

Kiss Holly deep, her hands sliding under my shirt. Billy tosses a Coors Light. “Catch, QB.”

Crack it open, clink cans. Kitchen vibes: Holly recounting some park idiot who tried to sneak in free, Billy on the baseball game last night, Kelly laughing about her boss. Beers flow, laughter loud. Holly’s hand creeps up my thigh under the island.

Holly leans against the counter, sipping her beer. “Okay, story time. Remember that idiot at the Tilt-A-Whirl yesterday? Kid barfs everywhere, and the mom blames me like I fed him the corndogs. Had to hose it down myself.”