MY ALWAYS ONE is a new, fun, and sexy friends-to-lovers contemporary romance. A steamy stand-alone, MY ALWAYS ONE is not connected to any other of Aleatha’s Lighter Ones and may be read on its own.
Marshal
Ten Years Ago
"You're such an ass," Sami blurts out, shaking her head. Her tone sounds angry, but her volume is still low.
I shrug with a smirk as I heave my backpack higher on my shoulder. As we step through the front doors of our high school, I squint my eyes at the onslaught of the warm Michigan sunshine. For a few steps I think about how to answer her, what to say. If Sami were a guy, I'd have the perfect response. I'd say that I wasn't the ass, but Maura Sharpe had a fine one.
The thing is that Sami isn't a guy; she's my best friend. I know that fact without a doubt. I also know she isn’t interested in my thoughts regarding Maura’s nice round...
Even thinking of telling her, I imagine Sami scrunching her cute little nose and after hitting me, halfheartedly saying, Disgusting, TMI.
Trying to avoid her manhandling—something I wouldn't take from anyone else—I start to reply when Sami purposely bumps her shoulder against mine. “I thought we had an understanding.” Her tiny frame nearly bounces me from the sidewalk.
I grin her direction as I walk the balance beam of the curb.
So much for my attempt to avoid her physical aggression.
Steadying my place on the sidewalk, I narrowly miss falling to the pavement and being picked off as a car peels past, no doubt determined to leave the high school parking lot before the line backs up at the stoplight. Flashing my brightest smile, I avoid Sami’s comment and stare down at her and with a gleam in my eyes ask, "Are you trying kill me?"
Sami shakes her head in reply and continues her interrogation. "Maura? Maura?"
Each time she asks, repeating the name belonging to her friend and my latest conquest, her voice gets louder and the name more exaggerated. I avoid answering as we weave through the parking lot until I hit the unlock button on my key fob. With a huff, Sami goes around to the passenger side of my old truck.
Once we're both inside, I start the engine and immediately roll down the windows. Michigan weather needs therapy. I swear it has serious multiple-personality issues—freezing one day and then sweltering the next. It’s as if the weather has as much trouble deciding what it wants as I do.
Sami lifts her long brown hair from her neck and directs the air conditioning vent toward her before glaring my direction.
"What do you want me to say?" I finally ask as I put the truck in reverse and begin backing out of the space, barely missing two girls walking with their heads together, too lost in their conversation to realize they're about to become roadkill.
As my brakes squeal, one of the girls turns and glares my direction, but as soon as she recognizes my truck, her anger morphs to a smile. Her head tilts and her eyes search for mine in the side mirror.
"Hi, Marshal," she calls with the telltale flick of her neck and a finger wave. "Call me."
I wave at the same time I see Sami's head shake in my peripheral vision. As I ease the truck out of the parking space, I say a silent prayer that the girl in the mirror won't try to come up to my open window.
Sami cranes her neck over her shoulder. "Isn't she a freshman?"
"Is she? I think that means she’ll soon be a sophomore."
"Jeez, Marshal. You really are a manwhore. You know that?"
I lift my brows. "No, Sami, I'm not a whore. Those who practice one of the oldest professions do so to be paid. No one pays me. I willingly share my talents with those in need. I think that's called being a humanitarian. Consider it as my service to women everywhere. Maybe I should add that to my college application under the title of community service."
Sami shakes her head. “You’ve already been accepted to Michigan State without that bit of information.” She takes in a deep breath. “You know, if I hadn’t known you since we were five, I don’t think I’d like you.”
“But you have and you do,” I say with a grin.
“I just...”
I finally maneuver the truck out of the parking lot and onto the side streets. Hitting the gas, I pick up speed and bring a nice breeze through the open windows, helping to cool the cab. Admittedly, the acceleration works better than my AC.
One day, I won't be driving a beat-up old truck. One day, I'll have a car that fits with my body and personality.
"Maura's my friend," Sami says.
"Maura's a big girl. She knew what she was doing. Actually, she knew—"
Sami lifts her hand. "Stop. You know our deal. No details. I don't want to know about the little freshman or Maura or anyone else."
"Well, let me just say that if we’re doing a comparison study, Maura is much more experienced than the freshman, but in the grand scheme, she can learn a bit too."
"Noted. But you know that Maura just broke up with Matt.” Sami shakes her head. “And right before prom. Seriously, Marsh, the last thing she needs is you using her for a one-night stand."
I reach over and squeeze Sami's leg. "You know me. I don't use girls. They come to me."
"Because you're so freaking fantastic in the sack?"
My cheek rises, creating my cocky, lopsided signature grin. "That is the word on the street."
“Word on the street is Matt’s going to kick your ass.”
I can’t help but scoff. “Right. I’d love to see him try. Besides, I got the whole story. Maura broke up with him because she found out he was doing Laura.”
Sami turns with her mouth agape. “Laura? Cheerleader Laura? Debate team Laura?”
I nod.
“Maura told me he cheated, but not with who.”
“I guess girls are just willing to share anything to elicit my sympathy favors.”
She sighs and lays her head against the seat. "Is that all you want out of life?"
I look over at my best friend. There's something about Sami that makes her different than every other girl I've ever known. Maybe it's that we've known each other since we were kids, or that we know everything about one another, or maybe that we swore never to lie to one another, and we haven't. I'm not sure of the reason, but for the first time since I was balls deep in Maura Sharpe, I feel a little bad about it.
Which is strange.
I never feel regret.
Euphoria, an amazing, fantastic release, yes, but never regret.
"Sami, what is it?"
She turns toward the open window, her hair blowing in the breeze, and takes a minute before she answers. "I think it's that we're graduating in a few weeks. Things are changing. Look at us. We're going off to two different colleges, and we have friends getting married."
"We also have friends with kids on the way. Do you want that to be you?"
Sami looks at me for a minute and then turns back to the open window. "Someday."
"Someday, but not now. Not at eighteen."
After another sigh, she leans back against the seat. In the few seconds that passed, her fun smile, the one that has gotten us both in trouble more times than I can count, is back. "Then, Mr. Michaels, keep your cock in your pants."