Possessive Best Friend

It takes me a second to recognize Dean.

It’s been so long since I last saw him. His hair’s shorter and stylish, cut short on the sides and pushed back on the top. He has the same jaw, the same full lips, the same handsome face, but he’s taller and more muscular. He looks like he’s ten years older, even though it’s been about five since we last spoke.

“Hey,” I say as he pulls me into a hug. I laugh and hug him back. His huge arms wrap around my body and I feel a thrill in my chest at his touch.

“Wow,” he says. “I saw you accepted the invite on Facebook but I didn’t actually think… damn, look at you.” He steps back, grinning. “You look good.”

“Thanks.” I feel myself blush. “You too.”

“Come on, come meet everyone.”

He pulls me toward the crowd and starts introducing me all around. Some of the faces and names I recognize, but most of them flow past me like a river.

I didn’t know he had so many friends in town, but it shouldn’t surprise me. Dean’s always been magnetic and charming. Even back in high school, he always had a girl or two following him around, and he loved the attention. Now he’s taller, even more handsome, even more attractive. I can see how he’d have a lot of friends, and I can’t help but notice a lot of them are girls.

“When was the last time I saw you?” he asks me after we go through the introductions. We lean up against the back of a truck, the bed hanging open.

“I’m not sure,” I admit.

“Must be one of the last days of school.”

“Yeah, I think so,” I say, and it comes back to me then. “We were standing out back waiting for our rides. Remember?”

“Oh,” he says and laughs. “Yeah. I remember. You wanted to kiss me.”

I glare at him. “I did not.”

“You did.”

“Dean.”

“What? You did. You were looking at me with those big pretty eyes of yours basically begging me to kiss you right then and there.”

“No, not at all,” I say, but he’s absolutely right.

Dean was my best friend in high school. We were closer than I’ve ever been with anyone before or since. And I had a massive crush on him the whole time, but never did anything about it. Until that last day, standing with him behind the school, waiting to get picked up. I looked at him, and I wanted him to kiss me, but…

“Then your ride came,” he said. “You looked so disappointed.”

“You should’ve taken your chance,” I teased.

“Yeah, I should have.” He gives me a long look. “But I was young and stupid.”

“I’m sure you’re so much older and more experienced now.”

“Exactly.” He grins. “What a classic story. The rich smart girl goes to college and the dumb local boy goes back home to be poor.”

“First of all, you had better grades than I did. And second, you’re not poor. Your dad owns like, what, five dealerships?”

“Six now,” he says. “And some detailing places and a couple auto body shops. Oh, and he was elected to the town council.”

I whistle. “Wow. No kidding?”

“I know. It’s been a wild few years.”

“And here I am with a degree and no job.”

He laughs. “What have you been doing?”

“Nothing,” I say. “Literally, nothing. I’ve been sitting around the manor feeling bored. This is the first time I’ve gone out since coming home.”

“Oh, come on. The Lora I remember couldn’t sit still for more than two minutes.”

“People change.”

Before he can say anything, a shout goes up and someone throws more wood into the fire. It flares up and there’s a cheer as a guy runs around with an enormous beer bong.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean says.

“What?”

“They’re going to make me drink that.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“I know. It’s really immature.”

“I’ll do it.”

He blinks. “What?”

“I’ll do it.” I stand up. “Bring it over.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “There are like four beers in there. Come on, Lora. You can’t even handle one.”

I slug back my drink and throw the cup on the ground. “Try me.”

“Lora…”

“Come on,” I say, grinning at him. “Try me.”

He smiles back. “That’s the girl I remember,” he says, and walks over to the cheering crowd. I follow him, and as I get closer, I realize I’m making a huge mistake.

I don’t drink anymore. I mean, I drank a little in college, but not like this. Not this stupid binge-drinking sort of thing. I can’t chug four beers like that, even if I wanted to. I’ll puke it all up and look like a moron.

But I’ve come too far. The crowd’s cheering as Dean takes the funnel and holds it up. He hands me one end and I put my thumb over the opening.

He nods at me. “I got you,” he says.

I nod back and put the funnel to my lips.