Page 2 of Enough Isn’t Everything (Everything Trilogy #1)
Jack and I had seen each other through every chapter of our lives so far.
We had been friends since we were four-year-old kids.
It was a weird relationship to the outsiders observing us.
We knew everything about each other, and he was the only person in the world that I had no inhibitions with.
He was like a second skin, and usually brought out my daring side and warped sense of humor.
Jack was such a liberating influence on me, and we pushed the boundaries of flirting.
It was harmless fun to us, but our behavior confused the hell out of others as to what we were to each other.
Jack always told people that thought we had a weird relationship that they were jealous because they could never have a relationship like ours.
By the time we arrived at Elle’s place, there were eight of us left.
Those people left had helped shape me into who I was, though I was hoping a few years in Florida would change me for the better.
David never knew when to stop partying, and shouted, “Spin the Bottle,” which made me groan loudly.
The prospect of doing something daring and potentially embarrassing filled me with dread.
Maddie was the first victim of the bottle and refused the dare, which was to pick a guy and demonstrate to us what was meant by ‘dry humping’.
She looked mortified. Her punishment was to drink a murky looking mixture of alcohols that Elle had ‘found’ in her kitchen cupboard.
No one even wondered how long it had been there.
Maddie heaved and then wretched, but managed to keep it down, while we all cheered at her grimacing face. I rubbed her back even as I doubled over, giggling, when I saw her reaction and knowing deep down she would have accepted the dare if her on-off boyfriend hadn’t left already.
Sam was dared to pick a female to demonstrate a sensual massage on and chose me. I felt a hot tinge stain my cheeks. I still blush when I think about how nervous both he and I were at our public display, even though it didn’t count, because he didn’t touch my flesh in front of all those voyeurs.
At twenty-one, I was a deliberately slow starter in the carnal knowledge arena. Hell, I was a late starter period. Beginning college almost three years after my peers, I had only ever been to second base with a guy. I’d never found anyone attractive enough for me to think of ‘doing it’ with them.
Eventually the game stopped, and I sat on the floor contented, albeit tipsy. Things were a little hazy, and my eyes drooped closed. A whisper interrupted my thoughts, “I so want to do that to you for real.”
Murmuring, “Hmm… huh?” I turned my head slightly.
There was more ragged breath in my ear while Sam said, “The massage, slow and sensual, with my hands running all over your skin.”
Suddenly, my eyes snapped open. Okay, I was a little drunk, but I was curious to know what that would feel like.
“Yeah?” I questioned. Sam’s breathing became even more ragged, and he nodded eagerly at me.
Pale blue eyes twinkled at me as they glazed with desire—at least that’s what I think his eyes were doing.
I glanced at Sam fondly. I knew I liked him, Hell, he’d been my best friend’s brother since he was born… it had tickled my drunken mind that I’d thought that, and I laughed loudly at the time.
Sam looked as if he had been mortally wounded and I realized he thought I was laughing at him.
Apologizing profusely, I told him that what I had been thinking had nothing to do with his proposition.
He tilted the upper half of his body toward me and said, “Lily, don’t fuck with my feelings.
What I just said took a lot of guts on my part. ” Aww.
I found myself soothing him, cupping his face in my hands in a drunken affectionate reassurance.
“Hey, no… I’m flattered.” Damn, I was drunk. Then I leaned in and sloppily kissed his nose in a sign of affection. Sam took this opportunity to grab my jaw, keeping my face toward him, and landed a soft, slow kiss on my lips. It was a gentle, tender kiss.
Pleading looks of desire flashed through his expressions as he stood and pulled me to my feet. Silently he led me stumbling over the drunken bodies on the floor and out of the sitting room.
Sam took me into Elle’s guest bedroom, where he was currently staying, and turned to face me.
Closing the door quietly with his arms behind him and his palms flush with the door, he smiled.
When he heard the door click shut it was like a starter pistol to Sam, he was no longer the gentle guy, his drunken teenage testosterone surge took over.
Let’s just say having sex was not what I was led to believe, and I was left thinking that there had to be more to it than this if people kept on doing it repeatedly.
I smirked when thoughts reminded me of the private inbox message he’d sent me via Facebook afterward, telling me how great our first time was together, and that he hoped to repeat it again with me some day.
Personally, my thoughts at the time were that Sam’s experience with me would be his first and his last.
Inhaling deeply, my thoughts turned to entering my apartment for the first time.
Trembling fingers shook slightly as the key found the lock, the pleasure I felt inside sizzled through me.
When I heard the lock click, I swung the heavy wooden apartment door open while my eager eyes filled me with excitement as they scanned around the sitting room, taking everything in.
The living room was huge and bright, with large, wide windows on one side, and a huge balcony patio window at the front.
Oak hardwood floors gave a warm, rich appearance to the room in the sunlight.
I walked in the direction of the balcony, passing the massive cream leather sofas and deep pile rug, which set the room off perfectly.
Black, wrought iron rails wound around the whole balcony, which seemed much bigger than I remembered and wrapped around the apartment on two sides.
Our apartment was situated on the corner, giving us a view to the west and south.
Looking through the large sliding doors, I could see the quality extended out there as well, with an intimate patio breakfast table and two chairs.
There were two distinct sections of seating.
A formal seating area, again with big cream rattan chairs, covered with deep plum cushions, and a leisure area with a fantastic, rounded daybed.
Glancing beyond the railings at the undisturbed view of the ocean, I realized what a great location we had and how lucky I was to be here.
Although, I was fortunate to have lived and grown up in one of the most exclusive areas of London, everything here was a world away from what I was used to at home, in terms of having access to sea, sunshine, and sand. When I left the day before, the weather had been cold, wet, and windy.
Here, I had bright sunshine on tap and just having that, made me feel much more optimistic about everything in general. I wandered through to my bedroom. The girls had already allocated the master suite to me because of my distance from home.
Kicking off my shoes the relief I felt in my feet was incredible. I decided to use the time I had until my roommates arrived by having a leisurely shower and grabbing a nap. I felt confident about the future, partly because of my choice of roommates whom I already knew well.
Besides, I wouldn’t have made the choice of college I had if I had to share a dorm with eighteen-year-olds fresh out of high school. Apart from my music, I came here to spend time with my friend, Saffy.
Saffy and I had been friends since we were fourteen-year-olds. We met when my parents took me on vacation one summer to Colorado. My dad was a big hunting fan, and he rented a camper during his getting-back-to-nature phase, my mother preferred to refer to it as his midlife crisis.
Saffy’s dad was having the same midlife issues and had dragged his family with him to do the same.
Her family was in the next pitch from us on the campsite for three weeks, and both families gelled immediately.
We girls both loved our guitars and wrote romantic love songs.
Two of our songs, as far as we were both concerned, still stacked up with the best today.
Through the years, Saffy’s love of science outweighed her love of music though. Her twin brother Max leaned toward being a penniless musician, so her parents more than encouraged her ideas of becoming a marine biologist instead of chasing rainbows with a guitar for a career.
At the end of our holiday that summer, we both wept so hard when it was time to move on and vowed to keep in touch, and we did.
During the previous seven years there were times when our respective lives made our contact wane, but we still managed to rekindle our friendship and share our trials and tribulations during our teenage years.
Max realized his dream to be a musician, like I aspired to be, and moved to Nashville.
Leaving his home fresh out of high school, he’d been lucky to snag a job writing lyrics for a famous country artist. I can still picture his handsome face in my mind’s eye, but I hadn’t seen him since I was seventeen.