Jack Avery Oneshots/Short Stories

- | Fuck Buddies | - Part One - JRA

"There's no way that you really believe that Daniel would beat me in an arm wrestle." Corey La Barrie argues at me from across the large island in the kitchen. I sit next to Sydnie Avery, her and I giggling a little too much at his offended exterior. Daniel Seavey is choking back a laugh as well, but he sits down on a nearby bar stool, prepping his elbow on the table in a ready-stance. Corey scoffs, rolling his eyes, but sits across from him, and they begin to duel.

"Heads up." Sydnie says to me lowly, only for me to hear. I know what she must be talking about, but I have to hope she's wrong. She's not though, and as my attention falls where she's directed me I feel my mood begin to shift.

Jack Avery pulls a skinny long-haired brunette against him, and I wouldn't know it was him if I hadn't been pulled against him the same way so many times. The sight does more than irritate me, it infuriates me, and it takes everything in me to try and tear my vision away from him as he speaks into her ear, her hands reaching up and around him to play with his hair.

When I look back at Sydnie, she looks apologetic. I roll my eyes at her, because this isn't the first time we've been in this situation.

Jack and I are fuck buddies. It wasn't my idea. I mean, I like him, I always liked him. When I met Sydnie I had no idea who her brother was, what he was known for, and it hadn't mattered because without even knowing his name I had become immediately entranced with him upon first sight. At first Sydnie was grossed out, I mean I had admitted my infatuation for him before I even knew he was her brother, but then she grew to accept the idea of me and him maybe getting a chance to exist.

What I didn't plan for, is that he wouldn't want me for anything more than my body. I don't know if it's me really, or just the idea of a relationship in general. The way he explains it when he actually cares to talk to me without my clothes off, is that he doesn't want anything complicated. He has me wrapped around his finger though, and somehow I know he has to know that, because he knows that even if I watch him fondle another girl in front of me, I'll still crawl into his bed at night.

Daniel wins the arm wrestle. And it's all Corey has been yelling about for the last five minutes. But I hear none of it, instead my brain is being taken over with too many obstructing thoughts. I'm beginning to overthink my way into a panic attack and I can feel it in my hands as they start to shake.

What does he see in her that I don't have? Am I just a joke to him? Does he not care about how I feel at all?

Why am I not good enough?

The last one hits deep, and I feel tears start to prick through the backs of my eyes. I don't want to cry at a party. People will talk about it forever, especially in LA, where somehow with the millions of people that live here, these same friends always want to have parties together. Sydnie touches my shoulder and I look at her. She starts to read my eyes and I can see in them that she begins to get pissed.

"I'll go beat his ass, you want me to?" I wipe discreetly at my tears that want to fall before they can, laughing a little at her. I shake my head anyways though, I don't want them to fight over me. It's my fault anyways for staying in this situation. I could stop this at anytime, but he's impossible to resist, which is something that Sydnie could never understand.

"No Syd, it's fine. We're not in a relationship." I shrug, but I'm alarmed by the hurt the tone of my voice holds. It's getting harder and harder to lie about how I feel, and by the look on Sydnie's face I can see that she doesn't buy it one bit.

"You might as well be, Paige. You shouldn't let him do you like that. Most people here know y'all fuck around, it just looks bad." I can always count on Sydnie to be blunt when I need it. And I know she's right. I've been asked multiple times by girls that are interested if we're dating, and when I say we're not they ask if they can shoot their shot. It's irritating to be in the position where I want to say no but I have to say it's fine, because I don't have any control over it.