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I'D NEVER REALIZED how naturally pink Zoë's lips were until the night I accidentally knocked her down onto my bathroom floor and had her pinned underneath me.
She just looked so fuck-able then and there.
Plump pink lips parted, wet blonde hair framing her pale face against the dark wooden planks underneath her, bathrobe undone– giving me a sneak peak of the perkiest set of tits I'd ever seen and her nipple piercings.
Fuck. Her nipple piercings.
The only other time before then that I'd had dirty thoughts about my sister's best friend was on their junior-prom night.
Dad was taking pictures of Dakota and Zoë in their dresses before they left. I was using the opportunity to sneak out of the house to go party with some friends that night and when I saw Zoë on our lawn in a black back-less prom dress, I nearly walked straight into a bush.
Her light blonde hair was short back then and when she turned her head fast enough, the hair at the nape of her neck moved and allowed anyone paying attention to catch a glimpse of the top of her back.
It was then that I first saw her tattoo– three delicate butterflies etched into the skin over her shoulder blade.
For some reason, the black dress and knowing she'd gotten a tattoo had done it for me. A sudden urge to walk over to her, strip her out of the revealing dress, and fuck her senseless right there on the lawn came over me.
I wanted to see her ass bent over for me, my handprints printed on the pale flesh in bright red, and her eye-make up running down her cheeks since I fucked her so good that she cried.
The fact that she'd also dumped her boyfriend a week before prom also helped me see sense in doing something about how hot she looked that night.
But I didn't do jack shit.
A small part of me knew that if Zoë saw me then, she wouldn't have thought anything different of me. I was just her best friend's loser older brother. I got crossed as fuck every weekend and made it to school hungover or not at all . . . acne scored my face, a hoodie or beanie was always covering the messy dyed-blonde mop of hair . . .
Zoë was a fucking goddess who had guys prowling at her feet. I was just me– a lonely piece of shit who was only capable of disappointing everyone in his life.
That hadn't changed in two years.
I was still a lonely piece of shit who was only capable of disappointing everyone in my life. The only thing that had changed was I liked how I looked now. I'd cleared up my face, worked on my body, gotten inked and pierced, bought clothes I liked . . .
I could look in a mirror now and not feel insecure. I could look in a mirror now and wish that I could watch myself fuck the girl of my dreams except there wasn't any girl like that seemed to exist.
It was hard to stay patient and save myself for the right girl. The ones I met were always superficial airheads who only cared about clothes and what their next set of acrylics should look like. And don't get me wrong– that shit matters. But there's just so much more to life than looking good.
You needed to feel good too.
You need to feel like you belong, like you're understood, like you have a place in the world, like you're doing something for the world . . .
I wasn't there yet. And honestly, I didn't know if I'd ever get there which was scary as fuck to think about.
I normally did the next best thing and made myself feel good using my dick.
When Zoë came back into my life, teasing me like there was no tomorrow and challenging me with icy grey eyes that told me she was begging to be fucked even though her legs were clamped together, making myself feel good just became harder.
The urges I'd had during her prom night came crashing back to me and all I wanted to do was shut her pink lips up with my dick in her mouth.
But there was no getting enough of her.
The image of her sucking me off while between my legs in my car was still branded behind my eyelids like it had happened just a few hours ago.
She made me feel better than anything I'd ever felt before. Suddenly, not being understood by my Dad or feeling like my music wasn't gonna get me anywhere didn't matter to me anymore.
All that mattered was that Zoë wanted me. Bad.
That and knowing that she understood how bad I wanted her too was enough for me to feel like I belonged somewhere.
·˚ ༘ 𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈 WR̆ȧ ( ✎ ) short special chapter that i wrote a while ago. i thought it would fit into the story right before zoë and jordan bonk parts lol HF IN THE NEXT CHAPTER BESTIES. IT TOOK ME THREE TRIES TO WRITE IT AND I STILL DONT LIKE IT BUT i'm not tryna make y'all wait too long so what ever 🥶
