This is pretty much business-as-usual for the Possums at this point, but I can feel how heavily the continued conflict is weighing on Ian. He’s the only one who knows how high the stakes are for the team and how much they all stand to lose if they can’t find a way to work together.
We leave separately after the session—the better not to be seen together by my brother—but I can’t resist shooting him a text when I get home—Sorry today was another rough one. I’m rooting for you and the team. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.
Just a few seconds later, he texts back—Thanks, Feisty. Just keep being you. You’re helping those guys, whether they realize it or not. You’ve got a gift for this stuff. You picked the right career. No doubt.
Warmth spreads through me, making me grin as I type—Thanks. That means a lot from a guy who was pretty eye-rolly about art therapy at first.
He shoots over an embarrassed emoji and—I’m not nearly as smart as I think I am sometimes. My pep talk in the locker room this morning proved that. I’m not sure anything I say will get through to them at this point, not even if I could spill the beans about how much danger we’re really in. But I’ll keep trying.
That’s all you can do, I assure him, hang in there. I’m sending good vibes your way and studying up on how to give a quality blow job for Friday.
He sends a gif of a balding man in saggy underwear doing a victory dance in a greeting card aisle that makes me laugh out loud.
“Show me,” Jess says from the kitchen table behind me. “I need funny to get me through this code cleanup without attempting to drown myself in the toilet.”
I shift to shoot her a sympathetic look over the back of the couch. “Another rough day with the new team?”
“They’re either imbeciles or fucking up on purpose to make me look bad and take my shiny new boss job,” she says with remarkable calm. “I’m not sure which yet, but I’ll let you know when I do.”
“Poor thing. Do you need cookies? I hid some so Harlow couldn’t eat them all.”
Jess’s eyes light up, but she doesn’t look up from her screen. “Oh, yes, please. Even though I read an article about sugar causing nerve damage last night while I was insomnia scrolling that was pretty disturbing.”
“No good comes from insomnia scrolling or reading articles about sugar.” I head into the kitchen, fetching the stepladder from beside the fridge so I can reach the back of the cabinet above the microwave.
“And what about withholding funny texts from one of your best friends?” Jess tosses casually over her shoulder. “Any good come from that?”
“It was nothing,” I say, collecting the small Tupperware container from under the pile of empty coffee bags we’re collecting to earn a free sock cap. “Just a goofy thing. Not worth sharing.”
She hums thoughtfully. “Right. And I wasn’t secretly hoping to be teacher’s pet and get Ian’s monster cock to sledgehammer through my V-Card.”
I tumble off the stepladder in surprise, sending the cookies flying as I reach out to catch myself on the lower cabinets before I crush my tailbone on the tile.
“You okay?” Jess calls out.
“I’m fine,” I say, my heart still racing.
“And the cookies?”
I glance over to see the Tupperware container still closed though it has rolled halfway into Cam’s giant tennis shoe. “Also fine, but what are you… How did you…”
“Nothing gets past me,” Jess says. “You should know that by now. I appear to see nothing, but I see all. Like the Eye of Sauron. And no, I haven’t told Cameron or Harlow and I’m not too disappointed. Ian would have been a means to an end for me. I mean, I like the guy and he’s undeniably hot, but he’s not my type. Too interested in sweating and sports and being outdoors. But you two…well, it could be something special, I think.”
“I—no,” I sputter as I collect the cookies. “We’re just friends. With benefits. Some benefits. Not all of them.”
“No sledgehammering yet?”
“No,” I say, dropping the open cookie container beside her swiftly tapping fingers. “And how did you know he has a…you know.”
“Giant penile protrusion?” She chuckles as she reaches for a cookie without slowing the tip-tapping of her other hand. “Sweatpant shots, my dear. They’re all over the internet. Apparently, there’s a group of women who lie in wait outside his gym in Midtown in the colder months to catch The Fox in his most tempting ensembles.”
“Sweatpants. Huh…who knew?” I mutter, snatching a cookie before Jess can reach for another one.
“Everyone, my dear,” she says, chewing. “Even I knew sweatpants were a thing. Gray ones, in particular. Probably because they’re a lighter color and it’s easier to see the protrusion that way than with say…black or navy.”
“You don’t call it a protrusion for real, do you?”
“Why?” she asks, grabbing another cookie. “Is that weird? I thought guys would find that sexy.”
I nudge her shoulder with my hip. “You’re fucking with me.”
“I am,” she says with a happy sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease you after you were sweet enough to share your cookie stash.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” I say, perching on the seat beside her. “But back to the other stuff. I’m so glad you guessed what’s going on because I could really use some advice.”
“You do remember that I’m a virgin, too, right? And I’m pretty sure I’m even less experienced than you are. I’ve never been to third base with anyone but myself. Though I am pretty great in bed. Just FYI.”
“I bet,” I say with a laugh. “But not that kind of advice. Feelings advice.” I study my cookie, trying to find the bite with the most chocolate chips. “We’re supposed to meet up on Friday for the sledgehammering but Ian’s under so much stress right now. I can’t go into details, but things are really rough for him at work. I’m wondering if maybe we should put the first-time stuff on hold until that’s resolved. Maybe that’s just too much drama on top of all the drama he’s dealing with already.”
I realize the tapping has stopped and look up to find Jess starting at me with a dubious expression. “What?” I ask, pulling my cookie closer to my chest. “I’m looking for the bite with the most chocolate. I like to save it for last.”
“Not that,” she says. “You’re doing it again—putting everyone else’s needs before your own and finding excuses not to go after what you want.”
“I don’t do that,” I say, chomping one buttery edge before I mumble around the bite of cookie, “At least not with friends. Just new school acquaintances and clients because I want to make friends at school and clients need extra patience and understanding. That’s like…my job.”
“Then why do I get three cookies and you only have one?” she asks. “And I know you let Harlow have at least seven before you hid the rest.”
“She’s on her period,” I mumble. “She needs chocolate more than I do.”