But I do neither of those things. Instead, I find myself thinking about Bryant and every bizarre thing she said over brunch.
I think about how that jackass Ken or Kyle or whatever his name was had tried to apply for my position. My position as what? Her unwilling boyfriend?
I think about her insistence that I’d make a great safety. She’s wrong, of course.
I think about her one rule—no other girls.
And then I think about her body—“It’s not too round?” Christ, she looked so damn cute when she asked that. And what a stupid fucking question. Her body is goddamn spectacular, all curves and valleys and smooth, touchable skin.
My hand slides under the elastic of my sweatpants before I can stop it. My dick is an iron spike, throbbing at the memory of Bryant’s fuckable body. After a beat, I tug my sweatpants down and encircle my stiff shaft. I give it a long, slow pump, and a shiver of heat races up my spine.
I want to screw her again. I won’t deny it. Can’t deny it. I’m so hard that my mouth is dry and my balls are drawn tight. I start stroking off in earnest, squeezing the head of my cock with each upstroke. Pre-come leaks all over my hand. My palm is sticky as it moves rapidly up and down my dick. My breathing quickens.
Damn this girl with her crazy words and her perfect, ripe tits and the hot, tight pussy that clutched me so hard last night and—
I come with a loud groan, grateful that my roommates aren’t around to hear it. My climax spills all over my hand and abs, my cock jerking in pleasure.
Damn this girl.
5
Bryant
“You’d love this guy, Ginny. He’s so tortured, but he has so much potential. He reminds me a bit of a wounded lion, you know? He’ll lash out when you try to help him, but not because he’s mean or evil. He’s just hurt and scared and doesn’t understand why you’re trying to pull the thorn out of his paw. But if you’re gentle and persistent, you can show him that the thorn doesn’t have to define him. The thorn can be removed and then he’ll feel better. He’ll be better. Oh, boy, I’m rambling today, aren’t I?”
I laugh to myself, and I can almost hear Ginny giggling in return. My sister had the most beautiful laugh in the world. Every time I heard it, it was like I was suddenly engulfed by a big yellow sunbeam. Warm and wonderful.
My spirits sink a little. Ginny’s laughter had died, and I couldn’t do anything to bring it back to life.
I stare at my sister’s headstone, my eyes lingering on her name. Virginia Josephine Johnson. So very feminine. Momma called dibs on naming rights with my parents’ firstborn, and since my momma is a paragon of femininity, my sister was given a name suited for a southern belle.
My daddy had naming rights for me. Bryant Johnson. I don’t even have a middle name, because daddy didn’t want to dilute the honor he was bestowing on Bear Bryant—as if Bear would even know.
“I miss you.” And I’m still mad at you, I want to say but I keep that part to myself. She’s already gone—no sense in upsetting her up in heaven by chastising her for deserting me.
It took me a long time to forgive her. She didn’t have to end her life. She could’ve talked to me, leaned on me, let my love heal her wounds. But Ginny was delicate like my momma. Gamma, Momma’s mother, said that there just wasn’t enough of Ginny to cope with her grief and that I should be grateful for my wide hips because my sturdiness would help keep my broken heart from killing me. Ginny would’ve rolled her eyes so hard at that statement, she woud’ve had a headache for days.
There are still times when I don’t understand why my sister did what she did, but I try and understand. That said, I miss her like crazy. And I honor her memory however I can.
“He doesn’t know how to treat a woman right,” I say, switching the subject back to Ace. “He’s entitled, but that’s expected when you’re dealing with quarterbacks. They believe the world revolves around them.” I smile at my sister. “I’ll teach him, though, don’t you worry.”
The softest of honks comes from behind me. It’s more of a squeak than a honk, actually, which tells me that Kayla and Dawn feel bad about interrupting me. I check my phone and realize I’ve been here longer than the ten minutes I promised. I know my friends think it’s morbid that I visit here so often, but they love me so they put up with my crazy. They understand the importance of sisterhood. That’s the whole point of sororities. It’s not the social events, the parties, or even the inside scoops on tests and papers and whatnot. It’s the knowledge that you’re never alone when you have a sister.
Besides, it’s not like I had much of a choice. My momma was AO and Gamma was, too. My freshman year, I made the mistake of telling Momma I was considering pledging Beta Nu instead, a more progressive sorority, and she literally clutched the pearls at her neck. I think she would have disowned me if I hadn’t pledged Alpha Omega.
“I have to go,” I tell Ginny. “The girls and I are on our way to a charity bake sale. I made apple tarts—your favorite.” A lump rises in my throat. “I’ll come see you again next week. I bet I’ll have lots of JR updates for you. He hasn’t told me what JR stands for yet, but I’m sure I’ll get it out of him soon. Bye, sis. Love you.”
I blow a kiss at Ginny’s headstone and hurry over to Kayla’s Mercedes.
“Sorry,” I say as I slide into the backseat. “The time got away from me.”