HUGE F BUDDIES: Chapter 9

I get to spend the rest of the evening with the Bennett brothers, which is any normal red-blooded female’s dream. We watch a rerun of Total Recall (the old version), which has us in stitches.

“My favorite bit of this film is when Arnie dresses as a woman and the robot head malfunctions,” Brayson says.

“Jefferson’s is when that woman flashes three boobs.”

Jefferson, who seems in better spirits tonight, laughs along with his brothers. “The more boobs, the better.”

“Ugh. That’s just gross. Imagine if you hooked up with a girl, and when she took off her clothes, she had a third boob. Are you telling me that it would turn you on?” The four of them look at me as though they are seriously considering my question, and I burst out laughing. What is it with guys and boobs? I don’t think women will ever really understand the fascination.

“I wouldn’t kick her out of bed,” Carson says.

“I only have two hands,” Anderson says thoughtfully. “The third would be wasted.”

“I could help you out,” Brayson says. There’s a rumble of laughter that seems to be deeper rooted than just this conversation. I know Maisie told me that her stepbrothers had shared girls before her. Apparently, it’s a thing with twins and, in her case, triplets. Maybe these boys have done the same.

When the film ends, Jefferson grabs the remote and starts flicking through the stations. He hits a channel with a show that I recognize. It’s the reality TV show about the McGregor brothers. The ten men who live in a harem with their stepsister.

“Hey…leave it here,” I say.

Jefferson lowers the remote. On the screen, the family is taking a vacation to Jamaica. It’s a huge undertaking, moving ten men, one woman, two sets of twin babies, and a nanny. They take three vehicles to the airport. Laura, the woman at the center of the giant harem, has a permanent smile on her face despite the chaos. “What the hell is this?” Jefferson asks.

“It’s McGregors Uncovered. Haven’t you heard about it?

“No,” Brayson says. “Is this what I think it is?”

“What do you think it is?”

“A show about one woman getting a whole lot of dick,” he laughs.

“It’s a show about one woman getting a whole load of love,” I say. “They really have a great relationship. And those kids…they’re so lucky to get so much attention.”

“Shit,” Carson mutters. “She’s seriously with ten dudes?”

“Yeah,” I say enthusiastically. “I mean, ten is a lot. Her best friend also has a harem of ten, but it’s not that unusual. Things are changing out there. The usual monogamous relationships aren’t the only model for happiness.”

“The divorce rate would agree with you,” Anderson says.

“Our own experience would agree too,” Carson says.

Jefferson clears his throat and raises the remote as though he’s going to change the channel. “Hey,” I say. “I want to watch this.”

Jefferson tosses the remote onto the couch next to him and gets up. “I’m going to hit the sack,” he says.

His brothers watch him leave the room, then share a look that I don’t understand. I settle in on the sofa, enjoying the show with half my mind imagining me in place of Laura. Damn, she has a pick of ten of the finest men in this great nation of ours. Her life is crazy, but it’s also amazing. For all the chaos, there is also so much calm. She’ll never feel alone. She’ll never have to face anything without support. Her children will never be without a father. There will never be a time when there isn’t enough food in the cupboard or money in the bank.

She’s charmed times ten.

But it’s not Laura’s gorgeous men I’m thinking about. It’s my four sexy stepbrothers.

When the show finishes, another one starts—they’re doing a vacation special with three episodes back to back. Anderson, Brayson, and Carson all drift off by the end of the second show. I guess that reality TV isn’t really their thing. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must drift off at some point during the third show because I come to in the dark, with unfamiliar arms picking me up. “What…”

“Sshhh…it’s me, Brayson. You fell asleep.”

He has me pressed against his chest, his big arms holding me tight. He’s so strong that there’s no straining or stumbling as he ascends the stairs and follows the hallway until we’re at my room. I’m bleary-eyed and still half in my dream world of switching lifestyles with Laura. When Brayson lays me gently on my bed and draws away, I don’t want him to leave.

“You didn’t have to carry me.”

He smiles down at where I’m lying against the comforter. “I think you would have freaked out if you woke up in the middle of the night in a strange place.”

“Maybe.” I shuffle to sit up against the soft pillows that decorate my bed. “Why did Jefferson leave so abruptly when that show came on?”

“Carson said something stupid. Jefferson doesn’t like anyone to mention our past.”

I feel a sense of affinity with Jefferson. The past can be a weight on your shoulders, a rock in your shoe. Memories have power over us, even when we don’t want them to. This feels like an opportunity to find out more, and I don’t want to waste it. “What happened?” I ask softly, hoping that the late hour will make my comment feel less intrusive. Secrets are always more easily whispered in the dark.

Brayson shrugs. “Our dad was an abusive asshole. That’s as much as I can share. The rest isn’t my story to tell.”

“I don’t think that Jefferson is one to share.”

Brayson takes a seat on my bed, and I draw my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. “We all deal with our past differently,” he says. “I’m sure you’re no different.”

I nod because it’s the truth. There are things that I don’t ever want to admit to anyone. Shame about having a less-than-happy childhood, which sticks like tar. “Does Jefferson resent me being here? Do any of you?”

Brayson runs his hand over his tattoo, absentmindedly. “I don’t think anyone of us would resent Steve having a chance to get to know you. All of us are grateful for the life we’ve had since he met our mom. Being supportive now is our chance to give a little back.”

“That’s the rational response, but I don’t feel as though Jefferson’s response to me is rational.”

“It’s not. Of all of us, he has the hardest time dealing with his own emotions. He is so hard on the outside to protect himself. That’s all it is.”

“I understand that. Did you enjoy the show?”

Brayson smiles slowly. “I think that woman, Laura, is a glutton for punishment. Imagine how annoying ten men would be. That’s ten egos, ten different temperaments.”

“Maybe she puts up with the ten egos for ten other good reasons!”

“Maybe, but don’t most women get tired of one?”

I laugh softly because he’s right. How many married women fake headaches to get out of sex with their husbands? She’d have to fake a stroke to get out of sex with ten men. I don’t tell him that sex is as important to me as breathing, and I don’t think I’ll ever feel the way he’s describing.

“Maybe one who’s not that worth the effort,” I say with a raised eyebrow.

“Good point.” Brayson smiles as though he’s enjoying our back and forth. I hope he is. I feel as though we have a good connection.

“Can I show you something?”

Brayson nods, and I tug my phone from my pocket. I scroll through my photo gallery until I find the pictures that Maisie sent me from her last vacation. There’s one where they’re all the on the bed, her stepbrothers without their tops, beautifully sculpted bodies on show. Maisie’s surrounded with the boys’ hands and lips all over her, the widest smile on her face. I show Brayson and watch as his gray eyes scan the picture, his mind trying to work out what is going on. “That’s Maisie—my best friend—and her stepbrothers.”

Brayson’s eyebrows rise. “They look close.”

“They are. It’s a poly relationship. She’s having their babies.”

“Whose babies?”

“She doesn’t know and doesn’t care. They’re one unit. Together forever.”

I smile because Maisie’s expression is one of pure contentment, and it’s infectious. So different from the uncertain girl I met on the plane on our way to start college. And I miss her.

“A poly relationship,” Brayson repeats.

There’s a moment of silence between us, but I don’t think Brayson’s putting two and two together. Just because I like a show and have a best friend who’s living an alternative lifestyle, doesn’t mean I’d immediately be searching for the same thing with him and his brothers. It’s a step too far for him, I think, particularly because of the social stigma that goes with it.

He rests his hand on the comforter next to me, and I have an urge to take it and hold it in mine. It’s a strange urge to give affection, which I don’t usually feel. If I was being normal Sara, my urge would be to take his hand and press it between my legs. I don’t know why I’m feeling so upside down and back to front. “Thank you,” I say instead, “for looking out for me…for being so welcoming.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles.

His eyes hold mine captive, the usual glacial tone of them so much darker in the gloom of my room. My heart skitters as the memories of the show and my imagined overlay of life with my own stepbrothers comes rushing back.

We’re alone, and if I was braver, it would be the perfect time to kiss him. Everyone else is sleeping. We wouldn’t be discovered. In his sleep shorts and shirt, he looks younger and more human than the man he was earlier in the day. It wouldn’t take much to move from this sensible chat to us sliding under my covers. It’s been too long since I felt a man inside me, and my body is hungry for passion.

“You should get some sleep,” he says, but he doesn’t move.

“Yeah,” I say softly. Our eyes meet, and I hold my breath. He folds in his lips to moisten them, and I know he’s thinking what I’m thinking.

Kiss me, I will him. Kiss me.

Then he stands.

The opportunity has passed, the moment most likely all imagined on my side over. What would he think of me if he could read my mind? He’d probably be shocked. Maybe he’d laugh at how much I’ve thought about what it would be like to fuck him. Or maybe he’s been thinking the same thing. Either way, this situation needs more work before I get what I’m craving.

As he makes his way toward the door, I let out a breath I didn’t even realize that I was holding.

“Night, Sara,” he says.

And just like that I’m left alone with my frustrations, but maybe not for long.