Avoiding Amy Jackson (3 page)

I love the release, the moments of mind-numbing pleasure that sex gives me. And my vagina, well… she fucking loves it too. She’s greedy and obnoxious, and she has no qualms with letting you know what she wants. She will take and take and take, and when she’s done taking, she’ll drunk dial your ass at 2:00 a.m. and attempt a late-night booty call to take some more. She’s a dirty little slut who encourages me to do filthy, vile things my mother would be ashamed of.

So that’s me, the greedy c-u-n-t you will either love or hate. There really aren’t any in-betweens. I’m a balls-out, in-your-face kind of chick. I haven’t always been this much of an asshole. Okay, that’s a lie. I guess I’ve always been kind of an asshole, but everyone has reasons for being the person they are today. Everyone has past mistakes and life lessons that shape them, that turn them into someone they may or may not like. I have my mistakes, my regrets, my accomplishments, and life lessons. I have flaws. I have weak points, but who doesn’t?

I guess it’s what you do with those regrets that truly make a difference, and honestly, I’m not sure I’ve handled my regrets appropriately. I’m painfully aware that my coping mechanisms haven’t been the healthiest. I’ve made a career out of carelessly flitting through life, evading facing actual emotions. After a traumatic life experience that left a giant, jagged scar on my heart, I became agonizingly aware of the fact that I’m selfish. I learned at the very young age of fifteen that I’m the type of person who tends to put her needs, her wants, and her desires first. I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing the consequences of my egocentricity. I’ve witnessed the devastating aftermath that can occur after my selfishness wreaks havoc. Somewhere underneath all of my bitch-like qualities, I know I have yet to come to terms with this. I haven’t faced the grief I’ve managed to bury deep inside of my soul. I’ve only avoided the pain and owned my predisposition for greediness.

I guess that’s one of the reasons why my best friend Ellen and I are so close. She’s an avoider from way back. We’re two peas in a giant avoiding pod. She’s not as bad as I am. Her circumventing was mostly due to her trust issues, her fear of getting hurt again, and more importantly, her fear of having her heart broken. Nothing shakes your confidence and trust in men like walking in on your fiancé balls deep in someone else’s meat curtains. Thank god Trent Hamilton barreled into her life with his sexy, tight ass and endless patience.

Trent is Ellen’s knight in shining armor and unquestionably the perfect match for her. He walked into her life when she was quite possibly at her lowest. She had just left her fiancé and had been dealing with his infidelity in a not-so-healthy way.
Think lots of tequila and drunken one-night stands.
I know I’m partially responsible for this. My influence of greediness and self-indulgence kind of rubbed off on her for a while. I’m just happy that my best friend has found the person she will most likely spend the rest of her life with. There is no doubt in my mind that Trent and Ellen are undoubtedly meant to be.

He not only saved Ellen metaphorically speaking, but he also saved her life from the hands of a deranged schizophrenic patient who managed to get into our apartment when she was the only one home. That was one of the scariest moments of my life. When I got that call from Trent explaining that an ambulance was on its way to Regency with a nonresponsive Ellen, my heart nearly stopped beating.

To say she was in bad shape is putting it mildly. I will never forget that night, the awful scene that lay behind while the police took over our place to investigate the entire ordeal. That was probably one of the worst experiences I’ve ever been through, and I wasn’t even the actual victim. I still get tearful whenever I think about what could have happened, but I remember to remind myself that my best friend is alive, she’s healthy, and Frank will never be able to hurt her again.

If it weren’t for Trent, I honestly don’t think she would be here today.

I owe him so much. Yes, I hate that he monopolizes so much of my best friend’s time, but I seriously love that man, and I love Trent and Ellen together even more. He was infinitely patient and even uprooted his life from Seattle to be with my Ellie in Charlotte. They have the kind of love that has
even me
rethinking my decision to avoid emotional attachment. I’m not saying they’ve made me believe that I will find true love or my soul mate or any other outrageous romantic sentiments, but they have definitely caused me to second-guess a few things.

Am I ready to open my heart to the possibility that I might want to share my life with someone? I’m not sure. Can I move past my one-woman selfish act, allow myself to be vulnerable, and put myself in a position where I could hurt someone again? Eh, probably not. But I’m at least open to having sex with the same man more than once…

Chapter Two

“Only a Limp Dick declines a chance to be with my perfect vagina.” -Amy

“I can’t believe you’re moving in with Dr. Thrust Me.” I hand Ellen a few books off of her nearly empty bookshelf in her room—well, her soon-to-be old room. She is in the process of packing everything she owns so she can move into Trent’s apartment. I’m happy for her, but really sad to see her go. I’m going to miss living with her.

We’ve been friends since college—nursing school, to be exact. We met during our freshman year at the University of Louisville. She bumped into me at a frat party and caused me to spill my red solo cup of beer down the front of my cleavage-revealing shirt. I immediately called her a dirty whore, and to my surprise, she scoffed back with, “Takes one to know one.” We’ve been attached at the hip ever since.

We’ve seen each other through everything. Impossible nursing exams, moving to a foreign city together, breakups, one-night stands, and drunken embarrassing moments—
her more than me.
See, Ellen has a propensity for pelvic thrusting and getting herself into awkward scenarios. For this, I love her, and I have made a point to record every one of these wonderful moments.

I feel like we’ve been friends my entire life. I have seen Ellen at her lowest, her highest, and vice versa. I would do anything for her, and the fact that I moved us out of our old apartment while Ellen recovered in the hospital from the injuries she had endured after her attack is proof of that. I knew if she had to come back to the very place where she’d almost died that things would have been too hard. Our new apartment is really nice and even farther away from Regency to ensure that nothing like that will ever happen again. My drive to work is three times longer and our rent is twice as big, but our safety is worth every penny.

But now my best friend is leaving me for some hot surgeon who still shoots fuck-me eyes her way on a daily basis. Trent Hamilton. A blue-eyed, dark-haired man who is an undeniable force to be reckoned with. He managed to get a very distrusting Ellen to fall head over heels in love, and honestly, I’m not sure any woman would have been immune to his charm. Trent has a true gift in the ways of wooing women. That man has some serious persuading capabilities, and he wooed my best friend right out of her panties—and now, straight into his apartment.

Lucky bastard.

I won’t deny that I’m a little envious that Trent gets to dominate so much of Ellen’s time, but my happiness for her far outweighs the jealousy. My Ellen is happy in the most extreme form possible. The giant grin that’s constantly plastered on her face is evidence of this. She’s a walking romance cliché. Someone should write a book about her, because seriously, her love story with Trent could be a romance author’s perfect inspiration. And then that novel could become a movie and I would be played by some hot actress with a dirty mouth, fantastic tits, long legs, and amazing sex skills. Someone like Megan Fox. She would be absolute perfection in the role of Ellen’s hot, sexy, hilarious, beautiful, best friend Amy.

Fuck it. I’m hot enough. I could totally play myself in a movie.

“First of all, stop calling him Dr. Thrust Me. Secondly, hand me the rest of those books.” Ellen’s voice stops my thoughts on becoming a famous Hollywood film star after starring in an adaptation about her life. She glances up from the cardboard box she is currently packing, flashing her pretty green eyes my way.

“You’re lucky I’m even helping you right now. I should be out getting hammered and finding a hot piece of ass to take home.”

“You know who you should take home?” She raises her eyebrow, silently challenging me.

“If you even say Dr. Limp Dick, I will throw this stack of books at you,” I threaten as I hold the books in my hands.

“You are so fucking stubborn, you know that? James is a good guy. A
really good guy
. He’s super hot too. This you cannot even try to deny.”

“Who’s super hot?” Trent stands in the doorway of Ellen’s bedroom, smirking like an asshole.

“Ellen was just trying to tell me that your friend James, better known as Dr. Limp Dick, is a hot piece of a—” I’m brusquely cut off when packing tape is thrown at my head; I dodge that shit like I’m on the Matrix and give Ellen the middle finger.

“Is this going to turn out like that one night I caught you two dry humping on the floor?” Trent waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“We were not dry humping! Amy tackled my half-naked ass to the ground!”

“Well I wasn’t dry humping, but I felt like Ellen was doing a little more than wrestling if you know what I mean.” I waggle my eyebrows back at Trent and he lets out a loud laugh.

“Remember that time you had my cum on your forehead? That was good times, wasn’t it, Amy?” Ellen is back to challenging me again. My best friend is truly a dickhead.

“Oh yeah… I’m pretty sure that was after you got your rocks off from me watching you masturbate.”

“Now the story finally comes to surface!” Trent crosses his arms around his chest, amusedly taking in our verbal tug-of-war.

“Can we never talk about this again? Like,
ever
?”

Ellen throws the white flag, basically begging me to promise the notorious masturbation night never happened. I can’t lie, that story is pretty damn amazing, but the fact that she threw her vibrator at me and left a cum stain on my forehead has me leaning towards forming this pact.

“All right, I swear on tequila that I’ll never talk about that again.” I hold my hand out towards Ellen and indicate that I’m ready to shake on this. I don’t need anyone else finding out that Ellen’s cum was anywhere near my body, especially my face.

“Deal.” Ellen shakes my hand and we smile at each other. Our friendship is not necessarily normal. Most best friends don’t call each cum twats or find ways to prank each other on a daily basis. Basically, we’re fucking awesome.

“I’ll never understand you two.” Trent shakes his head back and forth as he laughs in exasperation. Ellen and I start to giggle as we pull each other into a tight hug.

God, I’m going to miss her.

“I love you, labia face.”

“I love you too, dickhead.”

Trent wraps his arms around both of us. He holds us tightly and plants a kiss on each of our foreheads. “This is a god damn Kodak moment right here. Where’s my camera when I need one?” His husky voice is filled with amusement.

“Group cuddling? Why in the hell wasn’t I invited?” I hear a familiar deep voice from behind me. I pull back to see James Williams in Elle’s doorway.

Oh. My. God.

Dirty-blond hair disheveled in a sexy way that only he can pull off.

Irresistible green eyes.

Delectable smile.

Broad, masculine shoulders even noticeable underneath his hooded sweatshirt.

James is so god damn attractive that it’s making me feel twinges of anger and
other kinds of twinges
. His pheromones are practically singing to my vagina. I hate the way he makes my body needy with want from just a mere glance in my direction. I release a harsh sigh from my lungs and glare at Ellen. I aggressively proceed to throw more of her belongings into random cardboard boxes.

Who in the fuck invited him here? To my apartment!

Ellen watches me with a slightly sympathetic smile and mouths, “Sorry.”

Sorry my ass!

If I never lay eyes on James again, it will be too soon. No one, I mean
no one
, declines a chance to be with my perfect vagina. What can I say? I have egocentric tendencies through and through. I’ll admit that I suffer from a condition called
vaginal hubris
. I have confidence in my pussy and I’m not the least bit ashamed to admit this. And the fact that James and his limp dick were too good for my cock-pocket puts him at the top of shit list. A fucking cock-sucking, limp-dick douchebag who doesn’t deserve the time of day from me.

“What was that, Amy?” James’s smug grin has decided to make an appearance at our packing party, and apparently, I mumbled all of my irritating thoughts out loud.

“First of all, you can take that smug grin off of your face and then shove it straight up your ass. Secondly, I was just thinking out loud to myself about all of the reasons why you piss me off.” I’m aware that my way of handling situations has a bull-in-a-china-shop-like quality. I have no filter and I make no amends for this personality trait.

James barks out a laugh, and that stupid smug grin apparently still thinks it has an invitation to this party.

Asshole. His smug grin is an asshole.

“Thanks for showing up, man. I appreciate the help with moving Ellie’s stuff to my apartment.” Trent gives a solid man-pat to James’s back and strategically puts distance between James and me.
Smart man
.

“No problem. I still can’t believe you didn’t just hire someone to do this shit for you, but to each their own, I guess.” James goads Trent and immediately receives a scowl in return.

“Fuck that, dude. I’m not paying someone do something that I can do on my own,” Trent responds, as if hiring movers is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. He has a serious disdain for flaunting money.