Beautiful Player
Page 93
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I checked my work email, sent a couple texts, and then pulled myself together in the bathroom, with some soap, water, and vigorous scrubbing. Hanna met me in the living room, wearing a bashful smile.
“I am so sorry,” she said softly. “I don’t know what got into me.” She blinked, putting a hand to my mouth just as I started to crack the obvious joke. “Don’t say it.”
Laughing, I looked behind her into the kitchen, making sure no one was close enough to hear. “That was awesome. But holy shit it could have gone very wrong.”
She looked embarrassed, and I smiled at her, making a goofy face. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a little ceramic Jesus statue on an end table. I picked it up, holding it between Hanna’s br**sts. “Hey! Look! I found Jesus in your cle**age after all!”
She looked down, cracking up and started to shimmy a little, as if letting Jesus enjoy this most perfect of locations. “Jesus in my cle**age! Jesus in my cle**age!”
“Hey, guys.”
When I heard Jensen’s voice for the second time today, my arm flailed, hand flying away from the vicinity of Hanna’s tits. Feeling as if I were watching it happen in slow motion and somewhere outside my own body, I flung the Jesus statue as quickly as I could, only realizing what I’d done when it landed on the hardwood floor several feet away from me, bouncing and exploding into a million little ceramic pieces.
“Oh, shiiiiiiit,” I groaned, running over to the massacre. I kneeled down, trying to pick up the biggest shards. It was a worthless effort. Some of the pieces were so small they could be characterized as dust.
Hanna bent over, wheezing in laughter. “Will! You broke Jesus!”
“What were you doing?” Jensen asked, kneeling to help me.
Hanna left the room to get a broom, leaving me alone with the person who had witnessed much of my early-twenties bad behavior. I shrugged at Jensen, trying to not look like I’d just been playing with his little sister’s br**sts. “I was just looking at it. I mean, at the statue, and seeing what it was. And looking at the shape—of Jesus, I mean.”
I ran a hand over my face and realized I was sweating a little. “I don’t even know, Jens. You just startled me.”
“Why are you so jumpy?” He laughed.
“Maybe the drive? It’s been a while since I was behind the wheel.” I shrugged, still unable to look at him for very long.
With a pat to my back, Jensen said, “I think you need a beer.”
Hanna returned, and shooed us away so she could sweep the shards into a dustpan, but not before giving me a conspiratorial holy shit look. “I told Mom you broke this and she couldn’t even remember which of her aunts gave it to her. I think you’re fine.”
I groaned, following her into the kitchen and apologizing to Helena with a kiss on her cheek. She handed me a beer and told me to relax.
At some point when I’d been upstairs f**king Hanna, or maybe when I’d been madly washing her scent off my dick and my fingers and my face, her father had arrived home. Jesus Christ. With some clarity away from naked Hanna and a closed bedroom door, I realized how insane we had been. What the f**k were we thinking?
Looking up from where he’d been digging in the fridge for a beer, Johan came over to greet me with his own brand of warmth and awkwardness. He was good at eye contact, bad with words. It usually meant that he ended up staring at people while they scrambled to come up with things to say.
“Hi,” I said, returning his handshake and letting him pull me into a hug. “Sorry about Jesus.”
He stepped back, smiled, and said, “Nah,” and then paused, seemed to reconsider something. “Unless you’ve suddenly become religious?”
“Johan,” Helena called, breaking our moment. I could have kissed her. “Honey, can you check the roast? The beans and bread are done.”
Johan walked to the oven, pulling a meat thermometer out of the drawer. I felt Hanna step beside me, heard her clink her water glass to my beer bottle.
“Cheers,” she said with an easy smile. “Hungry?”
“Famished,” I admitted.
“Don’t just stick the tip in, Johan,” Helena called out to him. “Shove it all the way in there.”
I coughed, feeling the burn of beer as it almost came out my nose. Cupping my hand over my mouth, I urged my throat to open, to allow me to swallow. Jensen stepped behind me, slapping my back and wearing a knowing grin. Liv and Rob were already sitting at the kitchen table, bent over in silent laughter.
“Holy shit, this is going to be a long night,” Hanna mumbled.
“I am so sorry,” she said softly. “I don’t know what got into me.” She blinked, putting a hand to my mouth just as I started to crack the obvious joke. “Don’t say it.”
Laughing, I looked behind her into the kitchen, making sure no one was close enough to hear. “That was awesome. But holy shit it could have gone very wrong.”
She looked embarrassed, and I smiled at her, making a goofy face. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a little ceramic Jesus statue on an end table. I picked it up, holding it between Hanna’s br**sts. “Hey! Look! I found Jesus in your cle**age after all!”
She looked down, cracking up and started to shimmy a little, as if letting Jesus enjoy this most perfect of locations. “Jesus in my cle**age! Jesus in my cle**age!”
“Hey, guys.”
When I heard Jensen’s voice for the second time today, my arm flailed, hand flying away from the vicinity of Hanna’s tits. Feeling as if I were watching it happen in slow motion and somewhere outside my own body, I flung the Jesus statue as quickly as I could, only realizing what I’d done when it landed on the hardwood floor several feet away from me, bouncing and exploding into a million little ceramic pieces.
“Oh, shiiiiiiit,” I groaned, running over to the massacre. I kneeled down, trying to pick up the biggest shards. It was a worthless effort. Some of the pieces were so small they could be characterized as dust.
Hanna bent over, wheezing in laughter. “Will! You broke Jesus!”
“What were you doing?” Jensen asked, kneeling to help me.
Hanna left the room to get a broom, leaving me alone with the person who had witnessed much of my early-twenties bad behavior. I shrugged at Jensen, trying to not look like I’d just been playing with his little sister’s br**sts. “I was just looking at it. I mean, at the statue, and seeing what it was. And looking at the shape—of Jesus, I mean.”
I ran a hand over my face and realized I was sweating a little. “I don’t even know, Jens. You just startled me.”
“Why are you so jumpy?” He laughed.
“Maybe the drive? It’s been a while since I was behind the wheel.” I shrugged, still unable to look at him for very long.
With a pat to my back, Jensen said, “I think you need a beer.”
Hanna returned, and shooed us away so she could sweep the shards into a dustpan, but not before giving me a conspiratorial holy shit look. “I told Mom you broke this and she couldn’t even remember which of her aunts gave it to her. I think you’re fine.”
I groaned, following her into the kitchen and apologizing to Helena with a kiss on her cheek. She handed me a beer and told me to relax.
At some point when I’d been upstairs f**king Hanna, or maybe when I’d been madly washing her scent off my dick and my fingers and my face, her father had arrived home. Jesus Christ. With some clarity away from naked Hanna and a closed bedroom door, I realized how insane we had been. What the f**k were we thinking?
Looking up from where he’d been digging in the fridge for a beer, Johan came over to greet me with his own brand of warmth and awkwardness. He was good at eye contact, bad with words. It usually meant that he ended up staring at people while they scrambled to come up with things to say.
“Hi,” I said, returning his handshake and letting him pull me into a hug. “Sorry about Jesus.”
He stepped back, smiled, and said, “Nah,” and then paused, seemed to reconsider something. “Unless you’ve suddenly become religious?”
“Johan,” Helena called, breaking our moment. I could have kissed her. “Honey, can you check the roast? The beans and bread are done.”
Johan walked to the oven, pulling a meat thermometer out of the drawer. I felt Hanna step beside me, heard her clink her water glass to my beer bottle.
“Cheers,” she said with an easy smile. “Hungry?”
“Famished,” I admitted.
“Don’t just stick the tip in, Johan,” Helena called out to him. “Shove it all the way in there.”
I coughed, feeling the burn of beer as it almost came out my nose. Cupping my hand over my mouth, I urged my throat to open, to allow me to swallow. Jensen stepped behind me, slapping my back and wearing a knowing grin. Liv and Rob were already sitting at the kitchen table, bent over in silent laughter.
“Holy shit, this is going to be a long night,” Hanna mumbled.
