Kicking Reality

She plays with her hair, moving it to the side and exposing her skin. Untangling herself from his embrace, she moves closer to me and wraps her arms around my waist and places her head on my chest. The familiar scent—something sweet—tickles my senses leaving me holding onto her longer than I should. Remembering that Ash stood next to us, I let her go and pretend as if that meant nothing whatsoever. And that your dick didn’t stir at the feel of her tits being pushed up against your chest.

“Let’s go inside. I’ve got a hankering for something spicy.” Ash rubs his hands together with delight, abandoning us without waiting for a response.

With the two of us standing outside the restaurant, she scans our surroundings to see if anyone is watching. It’s Friday afternoon—the streets busy with locals and tourists. From where I stood, I didn’t see anyone following her with cameras but paparazzi had many tricks and wouldn’t surprise me if they were hidden in the bushes or in the apartment block across the street.

“Hey.” She smiles nervously, a slight blush against her delicate skin.

“Hey, that’s all I get? No, nice to see you Logan. You look so hot that I can’t stop thinking about your body in Sports Illustrated magazine.”

“You are such a love-o.” She tilts her head with a smirk, keeping her gaze lifted. “Let’s go burn Ash’s asshole.”

I follow her lead, purposely walking a step behind so I could watch her ass sway. Fuck, why do I torture myself? Because you remember how good her ass felt in your hands.

The restaurant is small and intimate; decorated in maroon and gold. It appears to be rundown; the paintings old and looking weathered. Only a few people sat inside, keeping to themselves in the dark corners. Emmy chose this place because she knew it wasn’t a crowd-drawer therefore wouldn’t attract the paparazzi. The staff were very accommodating, offering the menu and serving the dishes with jugs of cold water.

“Fuck, this is spicy.” Ash wipes his forehead with the napkin, taking a long gulp of the water and immediately refilling the glass.

“Hot? Is it?” Emmy questions, eyes wide with an innocent pout.

“You don’t think so?”

“I eat here all the time. Got a stomach made of steal,” she says, patting her belly and pretending she didn’t tell the waiter to add more curry powder to his dish.

“I just never . . .” he stops mid-burp. “Eaten something so hot.”

“Seems fine to me,” I chime in, hiding my smile behind my fork.

Ash takes a break from eating, his uncomfortable stance making this moment too comical. Leaning back into his chair while breathing in and out in a steady pace, he motions the waiter over and requests another jug of water.

“How was the meeting? You didn’t tell me what happened.”

“They’ve asked us to represent the States in the World Cup trials. Do you even know what this means, Emmy?” Ash bellows with excitement.

“That you’ll play for the World Cup?” she answers looking back and forth from me and Ash.

“It’s what we want but ultimately, the decision comes down to Coach Bennett and our commitment to the Royal Kings. It’s not as clear cut as we would like it to be but Dad is handling all that. The problem is that we just negotiated new contracts so I don’t know . . .” he trails off with worry but quickly smiles again. “If we play trials we’ll get to move back home for a while. I would fucking love that. I miss this place.”

There’s a mixed look of concern on her face. “Uh, that’s great I guess. When do you find out and where will you move to?”

“Here,” I tell her, face blank watching her reaction.

“Wow . . . that’s so close.” She hides her gulp behind her glass of water.

“What? You don’t want me and Ash around?”

“You’re both kinda annoying.”

“We’re not cool enough for her, eh bro?” Ash picks his up his fork, scooping another piece of chicken and smothering it in sauce. “We don’t know for sure yet. We find out in a few months or something. Anyway, what are you up to tonight?”

Emmy lifts the napkin to her mouth, wiping her chin. My gaze instinctively shifts to her pout; full, soft, and inviting with the shade of red lipstick she wore. Despite them being twins, she looked nothing like Ash. He looked like a dork with his crew cut and semi-broken nose. She is gorgeous. Pale skin with a few freckles scattered on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes are blue, this bright blue that made it difficult to concentrate if you stared at them. She’s always had long lashes, teased in school for being fake. I remember she wanted to prove the bullies wrong and plucked them out in front of them. They brushed it off like it was nothing until she flipped her eyelids inside out and terrified the older boys. They called her the spawn of the devil and she lapped it up using it as her weapon against them from that moment on.

“There’s a party on tonight. One of my friends is hosting it. Scarlett Winters? You might have heard of her.”

Ash and I simultaneously turn our heads to look at each other. Was she fucking kidding me? Scarlett fucking Winters. Ash had repeatedly told me he jerked off to her tits every night. He dreamt that one day he would motorboat them and end with his cum all over her face. Crude but so very Ash.

“You never told me you were friends,” Ash quickly reprimands her.

“Yeah, and I never told you that Logan was the one who told Mom you screwed that older lady down the street when you were eighteen.”