Not in my experience, hence while I was still a virgin.
But a girl could dream.
2
Aiden
“Dude, I’m starving,” my older brother, Axel, groaned from the coach.
I tossed the garbage bag full of empty beer bottles into the kitchen trash bin, rubbed my neck and rolled my head from side to side. Last night’s rager had been a bit much, even for us. I’d been cleaning up the mess for half the day and was still finding shit everywhere.
I wasn’t sure when our house had become the party pad, but due to its close proximity to the river, it definitely had.
We’d grown up here and Axel had taken over the mortgage when our parents passed. Ten years later, at twenty-four, part of me wanted to get the hell out of here. But a bigger part of me knew it wouldn’t be right to leave my brother to his own devices.
“Nice of you to finally join me,” I remarked. It was after eight in the evening. He’d literally crashed all day long. “The bathroom still needs cleaned. One of your work buddies puked in it, and I have limits.”
Axel coughed. “Really? Limits, huh? Didn’t I see you taking not one but two chicks into your room last night?”
Oh yeah. Becca and…shit. I forgot the other girl’s name. They were hot and we had a fantastic time though.
“I wasn’t the one who invited people over.” Sure, I capitalized on an opportunity when I saw one, but I would’ve been fine studying for my exams in peace last night.
“Relax,” Axel said, pulling his hungover ass from the couch and scratching his balls. No wonder he was still single at twenty-eight. “I’ll bleach the bathroom. I’ve probably seen worse at work. You ever had to puke in a port-a-john, Aiden?”
“No.”
He jerked his chin up at me on his way by. “Yeah, you’re welcome, by the way.”
Axel worked construction, the job he’d taken ten years ago so he could get custody of me when our parents died in a car accident. He was eighteen and I was fourteen at the time. To become my legal guardian, the state had made him prove that he had full-time employment and steady income.
I’d never forget the sacrifices he’d made.
Neither would he.
He always said giving up his hockey scholarship at UNC to get a full-time job so I wouldn’t end up in the system was the only decision he’d ever been certain about. But there were days when I could feel the regret rolling off him.
Like today.
Like last night, when he got so wasted, he didn’t care when the cops showed up and told him to tame the crowd or shut it down. It was happening more and more the past few years.
I knocked on the door of the bathroom he was cleaning. “I’m going to run out and grab some food. You want me to pick up something for you?”
“Fuck no,” he called from the other side. “This should make me lose my appetite.”
Yeah, I knew better. I waited a half a minute.
“Has it?”
Shortly after, he responded. “Naw. Run down to those food trucks at the carnival and get me a bacon cheeseburger from the Patty Wagon.” Before I stepped away, he called out, “and some loaded cheese fries.”
I grabbed my wallet off the side table and was heading toward the front door when he stepped out of the bathroom. “Hey, pretty boy?”
I turned, overly familiar with the annoying term of endearment. “Yeah?”
“If some hot, young, piece of ass falls into your lap, like it usually does, make sure she has a friend and bring ‘em home, will ya? The guys are coming over.”
Again. Great. “Anything else I can get you, boss?”