The Sunshine Project Pt 08

Chapter 22

Allie

My Jeep rumbles up the long drive toward the barn. Jess insisted we visit Jackson and care for him today. After I got rid of Beck and did my dishes to get rid of the fruit flies zipping around my kitchen, I was exhausted, but I agreed to drive her here. It's still emotionally difficult for her to visit the farm. It's only been a few weeks since Gus died, though it feels like a lifetime after how long I was shrunken.

"So what do you want to do after this?" I ask her as we round the bend and see the pasture and barn in front of us. Someone has had the knee-high grass mowed. For a split second I shudder at the thought of having to walk through that mess as an eighteen-inch-tall woman. I'm so glad Beck figured out how to resize me. How creepy would that have been?

"Uh, well..." Jess squirms in her seat, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. "Hair and nails?"

I swallow hard. Given what happened this morning with Beck in my bedroom, hair and nails sounds like the most dangerous thing I could do. If I am even alone in the same room with this woman while we're naked, I'm going to rue the day I agreed to "hair and nails." Jess is so addictive--in a good way--and I can't give my body the fix it wants, because lips are for love, and we can't cross that boundary.

I hold my hand out and turn it over, looking at my chewed-up digits as I park the Jeep. "Yeah, I really do need to get my nails done. Look at this mess. We were so stressed out all week; we deserve manicures."

Jess's facial expression shifts, and she sighs softly. "Yeah, you're probably right." Without another word, she opens the door and slides out. Her head sags as she shuts the door and walks to the front of the Jeep and waits for me. It's pretty obvious I just rejected her, so I hope she's not upset with me, but I can't go there. Not today. I need time to process what I've been through and what happened with Beck. I promised myself and Jess nothing would change between us. I can't be the reason that happens.

I climb out and walk toward the barn with Jess who is quiet. The entire property looks so nice. Whoever took care of the lawn didn't just mow. They spent time edging the gravel drive, knocking down weeds around the fence line and barn, and it even looks like the trees have been trimmed. I did notice a realty sign by the drive too. I wonder if Dean and Glenda were trying to spruce this place up for when they sell the house.

"Someone really did a number out here..." Her voice trails off as we both look up at the house. There is a giant backhoe parked by the old farmhouse with its sagging porch and flaking blue paint. She looks confused, but we continue to the barn.

"Yeah, it looks nice. I didn't think you called anyone yet."

"I didn't." She stops at the barn door which stands ajar. There is a bundle of papers in a plastic sheath nailed to the old bare wood. She reaches up and grabs it and pulls it loose. The plastic tears a little, but she rips it the rest of the way to retrieve the papers.

"What is it?"

"It's a notice from the surveyors office." Her eyes pore over the papers, flipping through them slowly. "It's a bill for the survey of the property for more than a thousand dollars, and there's another bill for the lawn care. They want me to pay over six hundred bucks for the yard work. That's fucking ridiculous." She drops her hands, still clutching the packet of papers, and stares at me in disbelief. "They can't do that. Can they?"

I snatch the paperwork from her and gawk at it, trying to make sense of it. "No, they can't." I shake my head as I read. It looks like Dean is trying to force Jess to pay for his survey, and they hired someone to do the lawn too. Jess could have found someone for a third this price. This is not okay.

Jess swings the barn door open and stomps through it, going straight for Jackson's stall where he jerks his head happily. I follow behind her in just as much disbelief as she's in. She wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face in his mane. I stand behind her with a hand on her back as she scratches him and hides from her stress. He snorts, and his nostrils flare as he looks at me.

"Look, we'll talk to GG's lawyer or something, okay?" I want to comfort her, but I know it's all so overwhelming for her right now. I feel like if one more thing goes wrong, she's going to snap. I might snap too. We both just need to decompress.

Now I feel even worse for refusing her "hair and nails" because I know just how much a good orgasm helps me relax and feel better. My heart sinks so deep I might vomit it out like that bad milk, and as I rub her back I find myself feeling something so deep for her I have to pull away. It's not a friendship sort of feeling; it's a "I'll fight for you and make every last ounce of sadness leave you so you can smile again" sort of feeling, and that is borderline not okay.

I look back at the papers, thumbing through them as she self-comforts and Jackson soaks up her attention. It's worse than I thought. Glenda and Dean have hired a lawyer now to force Jess to pay the twenty grand. I read the notice stating she has until the end of October to send the payment or it will go to litigation, whatever that means. Twenty grand in ten weeks? That's insane. She'll never have that sort of money.

"What if they do something to Jackson?" The pain in her voice as she turns over her shoulder and looks into my eyes nearly splits me in two.

"Oh, babe. We won't let that happen. We'll bring him to your house if it comes to that." I set the papers on a bale of hay and move toward him. He snorts and pulls away as I reach out my hand. The damn bastard never did like me. He backs out of his stall and walks out into the pasture, leaving us room to clean up and refresh his food and water.

"They could poison him or something... And bring him to my house? How? He's huge." She unlatches his stall door and walks in, grabbing his food bucket. His stall doesn't even need mucked this time. He must have spent most of his time in the pasture.

"Well, Shep fits in a shoebox now..." I snicker, and she looks up at me over the stall door.

"I'm not shrinking a horse. How the fuck would we get him there anyway? I don't think Mercer County is ready for a shrunken horse in the back of a Jeep being trucked across town." I get my first smile from her as she contemplates what it would look like for Jackson to be reined to my cross bars with my top off while we blast "Old Town Road" and haul him to her backyard.

I laugh harder at the thought and lean on the stall door. "Okay, you're right. Besides your neighbors probably already think you're an animal freak because you had huge German Shepherd and now you have a puppy. If you show up with a horse, they'll be suspicious."

"Nah," she says, smirking at me, "I'll just blast their dog with that pheromone gun and they'll have their hands full."

We both laugh for a while over that one. It took more than twenty-four hours for that thing to wear off, and I was glad when it did. Shep drove us both nuts the entire time.

When the chores at the barn are done Jess, and I drive to the farm store and buy a nice padlock for the barn door and go back to install it. It will at least keep Glenda out of the barn, but it won't keep her off Jess's back. For that we have to get more serious. If we need to contact the lawyer we will. For now, we drive into town to Details Nail Salon, only a few blocks from Burger King. It's not the place I'd choose, but she's happy enough and hasn't brought up the other "hair and nails" so I go along willingly.

Small talk during our nail appointment is awkward. Jess talks about memories of GG, the way she used to watch baseball with him. It's like I'm seeing her all over again for the first time, the way her face lights up at the mention of apple cider and picking the fresh fruit in the fall with Gus. Her soft brown hair hangs loosely around her face, framing its heart shape perfectly. Why have I never noticed she has gold flecks in her eyes? And her tiny dimple when she smiles only appears on one cheek, not symmetrically. Her nose is dusted with light freckles; she could easily conceal them with makeup, but she's so pretty she never wears it. She doesn't need to.

"Allie?" she asks, interrupting my thoughts. We stand with manicured fingernails near the checkout, and she slides her card across the counter toward the woman with blue hair and six-inch-long nails.

"What?" I feel my cheeks warm. I was so deep in thoughts that I shouldn't be having that I don't even know what she said to me.

"My treat... You okay?" Jess gives me a look of concern, and I shake my head.

"No, I can pay." I reach for my wallet, but her hand stops me. Even her fingers are pretty. Shit, that manicure will look amazing as her fingers touch my clit, and why am I thinking this? A hot flush sweeps through my body, and I pull away from her at the thought.

"You were just off work all week. Let me pay. I get bereavement time, so I didn't lose any money." I watch something flash across her face, but I can't really tell what it is. Jess never pays for me. That's something you'd do on a date, not a girls' day out with hair and nails, unless she thinks this is a date...?

Trying to calm my racing thoughts and stop the puddle from forming in my panties, I nod. "Okay..." I watch the receptionist swipe her card, and Jess pays for our manicures; then she grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door. This, too, is awkward. I'm the touchy feely one, not Jess. She doesn't ever initiate physical contact like this. I'm the one who does this.

"Let's get ice cream," she says, tugging me toward the door. I go along with her, not sure how to react. I've already rejected her suggestion that we have sex on the grounds that I cannot emotionally disconnect myself right now. She was hurt by that, and I don't want to upset her, but when she laces her fingers through mine and leads me out onto the street, my chest tightens. "Oh look!" she gasps, and she lets go of my hand as she walks toward a planter.

"What?" I hug my hand to my stomach, feeling how sweaty my palm is. I liked it--holding hands with her. My skin still tingles like her fingers are threaded between mine, and if it wasn't completely off-limits, I'd do it again. Why the fuck am I torturing myself?

Jess smells the mums growing in the planter and plucks a lily right out of the pot and turns with a smile in hand, thrusting it toward me. "For you, milady," she says, using an Old English accent and snickering as she bows. It would be funny if I weren't already feeling like this was too much like a date. It would be romantic too, if an orange lily wasn't symbolic for hating someone and wanting them dead. That makes me chuckle as I look down at her awkward curtsey.

"Jess, this isn't a date. You know that, right?" The words come out of my mouth before I can tell my brain they're not gentle enough.

Jess straightens, and I see her cheeks are bright pink. Her forehead crinkles, and she shrugs and sighs. "Uh, yeah... I know. I was just being silly. You're dating Beck." She tosses the flower into the pot and turns her back on me, heading toward my Jeep parked a few spaces down, and I feel awful. Am I dating Beck?

"Fuck's sake," I mumble under my breath. I keep fucking things up so badly. She's hurting so much. I pick up the flower and shove it in my bag, feeling guilty. She's just looking for something to make the misery of grief and stress go away, and I am not helping. I could have said that a million other ways that were less abrupt or harsh, but here I am a walking hypocrite. I'm falling in love with her, and I can't even tell her, and it's obvious she's falling in love with me too, but we can't fucking do this. And what would I tell Beck?

I follow her to the car feeling like a heel and thinking about how badly I need my best friend. Not a lover, not a life partner--my friend. The girl I did sleepovers with, whose bra I soaked and froze so she'd live the shame of hearing it thump around in her dryer before band practice on a Saturday morning. The girl who snuck out with me in the middle of the night to toilet paper Becky Burrows' cousins. Who helped me sneak into the movies to watch rated R movies when my parents refused to let me go but Gus signed for her. That best friend.

The Jeep ride's a bit uncomfortable, so I crank up my Metallica, and Jess jams to it. She is trying to pretend she wasn't just called out, and I'm trying to pretend I don't feel the same way as her. We can't go there. If it ends up not working out, we lose each other. There is no going back to friends after being in love, and I don't want to feel that pain when she walks away because I'm a freak, and she can't love me.

Jess turns the radio down as we pull into her driveway. "Want to watch Kate and Leopold?" she asks.

I throw the Jeep in park and shrug. "I know it's one of your go-to romances, but CIS stuff is a turn off. What about Borne instead?"

We need an action movie not a romance. We need to put as much space between us and romantic shit as we can. It's been an intense week, and I know we both need release, but if we get all worked up emotionally by some movie it will just lead to bad juju.

"Sure, I like those movies." Jess climbs out, again a hint of disappointment in her voice, but I avoid pointing it out. I feel like a horrible friend. I'm supposed to help comfort her, but I feel like I'm making things worse.

We skip dinner but enjoy popcorn and wine while we devour one Borne film after another. During the third movie--nearing one a.m.--when we've already finished a bottle of wine and have half of another down, Jess lays down, resting her head on my thigh. She's wasted, and my head is swimming with alcohol. I'm still coherent enough to know I can't touch her, but she needs this moment. I let her lay her head there for the remainder of the movie, but by the end my hand is stroking her hair.

The movie draws to a close, and she sits up and yawns. It's a relief to have her head off of me, but she's eyeing me the way she did the night we started his whole mess. She licks her lips and smirks at me. "Want to do my hair and nails?"

My belly feels like it's tied in a knot. I want to say yes. I want to tell her I'd do her hair and nails all night long, along with makeup and bathing, and anything else we could find and make a euphemism out of, but the way her tongue traces her lips has me licking mine and remembering the fireworks in my pussy when I was kissing Beck with Jess on my mind.

"I'm not feeling so great." The lie comes out, and I feel horrible instantly. "I think it's like hangover from being shrunken or something."

Jess sways on the cushion staring at my face. She blinks slowly. I see her forehead crease ever so slightly. "But you said you'd take care of me." Her words are slurred, and I hope she doesn't remember this conversation in the morning. "Best friends--hair and nails."

"Babe, I feel sick..." Another lie. I feel so fucking horny, and I need her. I feel like she is the drink of water in the middle of the Sahara that will quench some wicked thirst inside my soul. I feel like sitting on her face and squirting all over her pretty little ruby lips, moist from her tongue on them and flushed with arousal. "Can you just watch your app tonight?"

Or can you smack me and tell me you're going to love me forever and that my fear of losing you if this goes sideways is just a stupid fear? Can you tangle your hand in mine and reassure me that this change that is happening between us won't wreck us forever? Can you tell me I'm not insane, and that you are falling in love with me too? That we could be something?

"Yeah... Okay." She stands, looking sad yet again, and picks up the wine bottle. "Mind if I finish this?" It's just under half a bottle, and she really shouldn't drink more, but I'm not going to drink it either. If I do, I'll end up going upstairs to fuck her brains out and we'll have a problem.

"Sure, hun." I want to reach out and touch her, comfort her, but sparks will fly. My pussy is on fire. I'm angry with myself for letting my feelings get out of control. I watch her walk toward the steps as I inwardly punish myself. I am the queen of NSA sex. The fucking queen. I don't get emotionally attached to people because of sex, so why the hell is this wrecking me?

I hear her bedroom door shut, and I mute the TV. It kills me to know she's up there self-pleasuring--for more than one reason. I want to be there with her. I want to watch and participate, and I want to make her feel good, and I also don't want her to do it without me. Not ever. It's a strange possessive jealous feeling I've never had before. I want her to choose me.

"Shit, Allie, what the fuck are you thinking?" I rake my hands across my face and yank the rubber bands out of my pigtails and toss them on the table. The sound of her TV streaming filters down to the living room, some really loud woman moaning and getting fucked. I try to plug my ears, force the sounds away, but then I hear her toy turn on. How the fuck is it this loud down here?

My pussy aches. I want to be with her. I want to kiss her and make love, and fist her, and do all manner of nasty things with her. I want it so desperately I can't help but touch myself. I reach into the baggy shorts I am wearing, compliments of having hardly eaten all week. I dropped a few pounds and nothing fits right. These shorts and t-shirt are loose, which gives me room to touch my pussy and imagine what she's doing.

I am wet. So wet I should really take advantage of the moisture. But I have no toys here. And Jess is using hers. "Shit, I want her fist," I whine to myself, just as I spot the wine bottle. Excitement flushes through me at the sight. It's huge. I've never used a wine bottle before, but it wouldn't be that different from Jess's finger in my pussy when I was shrunken.

The moaning from upstairs changes. It's not the television anymore. It's Jess. It sends me over the edge with desire. I need to come so bad. I stand, watching the hallway stairs. It's dark in here; no one can see in, and unless Jess comes back down, no one will be the wiser. I shimmy my shorts and panties down. They drop to the floor and I pick up the wine bottle. It's bigger than I thought, but it's the only thing I have right now.

I hear Jess's moans get more frantic. Fuck, I wish I could see her right now, but this has to be enough. I lay back on the couch with the empty wine bottle in hand and press it against my lips. I'm so worked up I know it won't take anything at all. Mostly because since I kissed Beck I've been so horny the slightest brush across my panties made me jolt with lust. And with Jess's moaning upstairs, shit...

I grab the bottle with both hands and pull hard. It nearly crushes my lips, but I need it. I grind against it, pulling and pulling, praying it will just sink. It's intense, like the first time I was ever fisted. I'm stretching, and it burns, and Jess's moans grow louder. I swear she's waiting to come with me, and that thought makes me want to come with her too. I pull harder, and the rim of the bottle begins to sink.

"Ahhh," I grunt, forcing the hard glass cylinder into my pussy until it sinks. "Shit..." I close my eyes and begin thrusting the bottle with one hand while I touch my clit with the other, and images of Jess over me with her massive finger fucking me pop into my head.

"Mmmmm..." I swear hear her calling my name from upstairs, and it sends me places. My pussy clamps down on the bottle, and I feel orgasm swirl in my groin and shoot outward toward my fingertips and toes. I jolt and jerk as I come, riding the waves of pleasure. I hear Jess too, her own climax just as loud as mine. I'm thankful she has the TV on up there because she'd probably hear me and be hurt, but fuck if this bottle isn't amazing. Not quite as amazing as her finger in me shrunken, but it'll do.