Free Not In My Wildest Dreams (Dream Series) by Isabelle Peterson Page B

head.
    “You saw what you wanted to see. Classic psychology,” she scoffed.
    She was always spouting off psychology bits. She had graduated from Columbia not only with a major in English but a minor in psych.
    The feel of her sobbing, complete with hiccups, broke my heart for her. “Hey, hey…” I soothed, rubbing her back. “There’s someone out there. And she’s worthy of being with someone like you.” What the fuck? I was talking like a girl. I better find my balls or they’re gonna come for my man card.
    “It’s not easy for people like me. When you’re straight, people accept you. Gay? And with this whole HIV/AIDS thing flying all around… Worse, I like both dicks and chicks. Being pulled by two worlds. My parents won’t talk to me. They’ll accept my fame, but not me. It just hurts so badly and I can’t do a thing about it. And I’ve loved having you as a roommate and the fucking and now—”
    “Whoa! Hold your horses,” I interrupted. I pushed her back, still holding onto her shoulders, and studied her red, blotchy face. She looked different. Scared. Sad. Lost. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s gonna take more than you lookin’ for lady love to get rid of me.”
    “You’re just saying that so you don’t have to pay rent.” She turned from me and went back to her perch on the sofa.
    I went over and knelt before her. “Look, Becca. We have a lot in common.”
    “What… you’re gay too?” she asked sarcastically.
    “Uh, no. But hey, we both have parents that won’t talk to us. We both have the same job that judges us for what we look like, not who we are. And now I learn that we both like women. This is perfect. If I’d known we could have compared chicks on that level we’d have had a whole lot more fun these past few years.”
    She studied my face for a moment. “You really don’t care?”
    “No. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. A friend with benefits. You never demand things from me. You make me feel wanted. I’m the youngest of eight. My whole life was hand-me-downs and leftovers. You and me? Our little family works. I couldn’t be happier than hanging with you. But if you want me out of here…”
    “NO! God. Jackie, if I’d—”
    “Can you please stop calling me that?” I sighed.
    “What? Jackie?”
    “Yeah. I’m not a chick. It’s Jack. Just Jack. Not Jackie. Not Jacks. Not Jack-o-lantern. Not Jackass Jack. Just Jack. Although, maybe now I understand why you call me Jackie…”
    She slapped my shoulder, “Okay. Just Jack. Or would you prefer J?”
    “Oh. My. God. Was that the trippiest scene last night or what?”
    Suddenly, the intercom rang. I answered the phone, and the doorman said that Lisa was here checking on Becca. Against my better judgment, I let her up. Becca and I were talking in a way that we never had. I thought she was my best friend before, but we’d just taken things to a whole new level. And I really wanted to hash through what we’d seen last night without Lisa in the way. But it was nice of Lisa to stop by. Besides, maybe I could get the address of that place from her.
    Becca went to the bathroom to clean up from her cry just as Lisa tapped on the door. I let her in and offered her a cup of coffee.
    “God, yes. Please! How’s Becca? Who knew sex could make someone puke, huh?”
    She followed me into the kitchen where I poured her a cup of coffee. She picked it up and drank it black. Not sure why, but that surprised me. I figured her for a super sweet and milky coffee drinker.
    As we made ourselves comfortable in the living room, Becca came out of the bathroom looking grey, but a little more cheery than before. At least all the snot was cleared off her face.
    “Becca, baby. How are you feeling? Hair of the dog, what should I make you?” Lisa asked turning to the bar table.
    “Oh, God, Leese. No. Couldn’t possibly.” Becca picked up her coffee and curled up on the sofa, pulling a cashmere throw around her.
    “Well, water at