Turey Day

"Oh fuuuuck...yes..."

John grunted and pushed again.

"Ohhh my...yes, right there, baby..." Carrie's voice strained. He could only imagine the contortions her face was making. "Harder..."

He let out the breath he had been holding unconsciously as his body shook, his muscles seemingly at their limit. "You...sure?" he asked.

This has got to hurt.

"Yes, baby, it feels so good," she answered over her shoulder, her face pressed against the mattress.

"Alright," he said, then, after taking a deep breath, pushed his thumbs into Carrie's lower back as hard as he could manage. It looked and felt as if he was going to dig a whole right through her skin, but the moan she let out contained more than enough pleasure to overwhelm any pain.

"Now that's a massage," she sighed. She turned onto her back as he climbed off her, rubbing his own, now slightly sore, thumbs.

"Really?" he asked. "I feel like I'm going to break your spine."

"Yeah," she answered, pulling herself up onto her elbows. "It sometimes feels like you probably should. No sensation at all might be preferable to how my back feels after being on my feet all day."

He could sympathize, even if his own back's complaints had more to do with sitting in an office chair while some middle manager blathered on about "synergy" than being on his feet as Carrie apparently had before she'd popped by for a massage.

"You want me to do you?" she asked.

He took a second to look her over, gorgeous as she was, even in the sensible blouse and skirt that apparently functioned as today's work uniform. Her adorable face tilted slightly to the side as she awaited his response.

"I mean a massage," she added, evidently reading his mind.

"Oh well, then nah, I'm alright," he answered. "Anyway I'm sure you have to get back to Chloe, and if you waste too much time that massage might end up turning out a little more 'full body' than you have time for."

"Yeah," she replied, then wheeled her legs around off the side of the bed. "You're right. I probably shouldn't even have dropped by at all but fuck if my back didn't hurt like hell."

He gave her an acknowledging nod. "Yeah. Chloe doesn't give you massages?"

Carrie rose up off the bed and started slipping on her shoes. "She does if asked," Carrie replied. "You know her, she'd do anything for a friend."

John's face automatically twisted into a smile. "Anything?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Shut up, perv. You know what I mean. But she's got those dainty little fingers. They're no good for really getting in there and fucking up your back."

"Ah," he said. He rose to his feet to join her. "So I guess that's what I'm good for. Fat, beefy fingers."

She considered him for a second with a thin smile. "Pretty much," she said, then proceeded to the bedroom door. When she reached it she paused, and turned to him, her smile gone. "Are you really going to go to Thanksgiving with her?"

His only answer was a look and a head motion, a sort of nonverbal "I guess."

"Alright," she conceded.

He followed her down the stairs. "Speaking of Thanksgiving, are you going to take that box of wine you left here some time between now and then? I'd hate for you to have to suffer through Thanksgiving with Henry completely sober."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get it," she responded without looking at him as she picked up her hoodie from where she had casually tossed it onto the back of the couch upon arrival. "Definitely not in condition to carry it at the moment."

"You know," he said, "I could just drive you home, carry it up to your place for you?"

She shook her head. "No, that's no good. Chloe's going to be there. Very suspicious. Girl code." She watched his reaction, and upon evidently seeing something in it that John had not consciously tried to put there, added, "Plus I don't want you having another breakdown when you see her. You sure you're going to be able to handle a whole holiday weekend pretending to be with her?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, why not?"

Even

we

are not that stupid,

the voice in his head chimed in.

The look on her face seemed to indicate Carrie concurred with the voice's assessment.

"You think I shouldn't go? Just tell Chloe she's asking too much or something?" John asked.

"Yes, I think you should not go, for your own good, but it's your life. I don't know what you should tell Chloe." She sighed again. "You really are stupid, aren't you?"

"Yeah, probably," he said. "I guess I just sympathize. It's not like she can really explain why we broke up. Not to her family."

"Did she explain it to you?" Carrie asked, her eyes watching his reaction in a way that made him uncomfortable despite their tenderness.

"She tried," he answered. When she did not react, he continued, "You think she's being unreasonable now? Or just that asking me to play act as her boyfriend for a day or two is a bitchy thing to do?"

"No," she shook her head, then looked around the room for a second before continuing. "Anyone that accuses that girl of being a bitch is in need of a good slap across the face. She's a sweetheart and I love her to death, but I doubt she realizes what that might do to you. I kind of doubt you do, too."

He shrugged.

She sighed. "But like I said, it's your life, it's your heart. She probably just thinks because she'd happily tear out her own guts if it meant making someone else's life easier that anyone would."

"I don't know," he said, "I'll probably be alright. I'll just put myself into a food coma and it'll be over before I know it."

"If you say so," she said before turning and opening the front door. "Just don't count on my sympathy if you get your heart broken again. There are limits to my...compassion."

He had to chuckle, despite his suspicions that it was not, in fact, a laughing matter. "I know," he said.

Her face expressed suspicion, but she said nothing else before she turned to go.

***

How can she make just standing around so endearing?

John pondered this question as he pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building that housed Chloe and Carrie, the former being the subject of his musings; she was standing near the edge of that parking lot, dressed in a hoodie and, despite the mild chill in the autumn wind, which repeatedly pushed her long brown hair across her face despite her continued efforts, a pair of shorts which showed off her thin but shapely legs. She had been looking slowly this way and that, her hand resting on the handle of a rolling suitcase that seemed far too large for a two-day trip, especially one to her parents' house, but upon noticing John's car roll up, her face lit up into a smile.

This had the puzzling effect of filling John's stomach first with butterflies and then, after a moment's reflection, with a pit.

It's just a favor for a friend,

the little voice in his head reminded him.

Nothing more, nothing less. Don't get your hopes up.

What hopes?

he thought as he opened the car door while Chloe began her struggle with rolling the hefty luggage towards the car, resulting in it toppling over as it rolled off the sidewalk and down onto the surface of the parking lot.

This

then resulted in the suitcase popping open, followed by the wind catching a couple of the now exposed garments.

"Oh crap!" Chloe scrambled to grab her clothes as John rushed over to help. That the wind persisted even as she tried to cram her clothes back into the suitcase did not do anything to improve the situation.

With a little effort, John managed to snag an errant pale pink garment that fluttered away from her in the wind and brought it back to her just as she had succeeded in getting the suitcase closed enough that the wind would not capture anything else. When he extended his hand to offer it to her with a "hey" that he hoped came off as appropriately casual, he realized that what he had snagged was in fact a pair of her panties.

It's almost as if she had that blush all ready to go beforehand with how quickly she managed.

She snatched the panties away and shoved them haphazardly into the suitcase before snapping the latches shut. John noted but decided not to comment on the cloth sticking out. "Sorry," she offered sheepishly. Her expression of frustration melted into a smile before she quickly suppressed it.

"Oh, no problem," he responded, taking hold of the suitcase's handle before she could and beginning to lug it towards the car, keeping an eye on the precarious latches.

"Yeah," her attempt at casualness transparent as she scrambled to follow him. "I mean, I guess it's nothing you haven't seen before, anyway, right?"

John took a look at her as he opened one of the car's rear doors.

God she's really just going to be this adorable the whole time? Maybe Carrie was right about this being a bad idea.

He chucked the suitcase into the unoccupied back seat. "Not sure if I ever saw that particular pair, actually..."

She smiled, looking like she wanted to say something, but then thinking better of it.

"Well," John said, breaking the short yet somehow awkward silence, "I guess we should get going, right? Kind of a long way to go today."

"Right," she nodded, feigning seriousness, then, her smile fading slightly, "I want to say thank you for doing this. I know it's, like, very much not cool of me to ask you to, I mean, you know, but like..."

"Sweetheart," he cut her off. "It's no big deal." He took a second to evaluate her response, found it unreadable, and added, "Might even be fun, right? Make it like a, I don't know, a secret little game we're playing. Plus, pie. There

is

going to be pie, right? When I agreed to this, I was operating under the assumption of pie."

"Definitely," she replied, her smile returning a second later. She opened the passenger side door as John made his way around to the driver's side. "Thanksgiving is, like, my mom's time to shine. I think there will be at least three distinct pies and you will be required to have at least one piece of each if you don't want to break her heart."

It's not

her

heart we need to worry about,

the little voice in John's head interrupted as he began the process of getting the car rolling.

Shut up, you,

he thought back at it.

It'll be like a fun little game, like I said.

Right, and the winner gets a fabulous trip to their empty bed and a tear-soaked pillow...

Seriously, shut up,

he thought.

"So did we need to pick something up from your house first or..."

Chloe's words interrupted his thoughts, bringing them to a fortunate halt, although also being impossible for his rapidly track-switching mind to parse. "Huh?" he asked.

"I mean," she said, "you're going to wrong way if you want to get on the highway."

"Ah, shit," he replied before even looking over into her blue eyes. "Sorry, force of habit. I got all my stuff ready to go." He turned onto a side street to begin the process of righting their direction.

Good god, she's beautiful,

he thought, his momentary annoyance at the mistake disappearing with a look at her smile. "It

is

only going to be two days, right?" He motioned vaguely towards the suitcase in the back seat.

"Yeah," she answered. "Why?"

He chuckled to himself, turning his eyes back to the road, conceding that he would probably never understand the algorithm by which women decided what was necessary for a trip. "Just making sure I brought enough clothes. I wouldn't want to run out or anything."

"Don't worry about not having clothes," she said.

He turned to her with a questioning look, holding it only for as long as he judged safe while driving.

"Oh! Oh, no, I didn't mean like that," she said. "I just meant we can do your laundry or whatever."

"Ah, good," John replied with a smile. "I'd hate for it to get awkward."

"Gosh, I know," Chloe said. "I'm really, just like, so sorry. I mean, I know it's kind of a baby thing to do, to even worry about it, like, why can't I just say, 'oh, mom, we broke up' or whatever, and it's totally like..."

"Sweetheart," John cut her off, eliciting a concerned look from the girl. "It really isn't a problem. It's only as awkward as we let it be."

"Right," she said, seeming to convince herself before a smile appeared on her face again. "So, how do we make it not awkward?"

That is the operative question, isn't it?

John considered for a moment. "Well, it wouldn't be awkward if we were really dating, right?"

"Right...?" Chloe responded.

He could feel her eyes on him as he pulled onto the highway. "So what would we be doing if we

were

still dating?"

"Oh my god, are you serious?" Chloe asked. "In the car?"

John laughed. "Sorry, that's not what I meant, bad at words, remember?"

She sighed. "Oh, right, good, obviously."

John tried to suppress a grimace at her "good". She did not seem to notice, fortunately. "Right, I meant like, how would we kill a couple hours in the car?" He chuckled again. "Other than

that

."

"Right," she said, a smile on her lips so adorable that John had to force himself to focus on the road. "Well, we could play a game?"

"What have you got in mind?" John asked, trying to keep his eyes on the road.

She gazed out the window. "Well, I spy with my little eye..."

***

"...something..." John paused mid-sentence, took the time to look out each window, safe in the knowledge that they were at well more than safe stopping distance from the next car on the interstate, which was so far in front of them that he had not seen it for the last ten miles or so, then finished, "something corny."

Chloe made a noise in a failed attempt at sounding frustrated rather than amused. "Uh, is it corn? Like your last three turns have all been?"

John could not suppress his smile. "In my defense, there's not much else to spy around here."

"Fair enough," Chloe giggled. "I think we may have gotten all the mileage out of I Spy that we're going to get." She let out a little sigh. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," John said. "Although I feel like eating to relieve boredom is bad for my waistline."

"Your waistline is fine," Chloe said.

He could feel her eyes on him again and so he glanced over at her. "But I think it might be a while to the next exit. Not sure about what there might be when we get there, anyway."

"Oh," she said, seeming surprised. "I mean, I, actually I made us some sandwiches for the road. If that's ok, I mean..."

"Sounds amazing, to be honest," John said.

"Cool," she smiled, "let me just grab them." She unfastened her seat belt and sat up on the seat, drawing her legs under herself and reaching back into the back seat. John could not help noticing that this brought her butt, which showed ever so slightly from the bottom of her shorts, up to eye level. She wiggled it as she dug through the suitcase.

It's only two days...

Fortunately, it lasted only a few more seconds, Chloe plopping back down into the passenger seat, now in possession of a pair of plastic-wrapped sandwiches. She extended her hand, offering John one of them, which he took with one hand. For a few seconds, John struggled with the plastic wrap with one hand while driving with the other.

"Oh, sorry," Chloe said, "let me get that for you."

Before he could even think to refuse the help, Chloe had snatched the sandwich back from him and begun unwrapping it. "Uh, thanks," he managed by the time she had it unwrapped.

Rather than pass it back to him, she held it in front of his face while he drove. "Here you go," she offered.

He glanced at her, finding her face wearing an expectant look, then took a bite. If she had been expecting anything else, she did not show it. "Mmm, thanks," he said when he'd swallowed it. "Are these turkey sandwiches?"

"Yeah," she said, then a moment later. "You don't like turkey?"

He chuckled. "If I did, I probably wouldn't have agreed to Thanksgiving," he said.

"Oh, right," Chloe said. She giggled. "Sorry, probably should have gone with PB&J or something, huh?"

"Nah," said John, "no such thing as too much of a good thing, right?"

***

Quadrangles,

thought John,

must be like snowflakes. Each one the same and yet slightly different.

He paused to look across this one, largely empty, as he and Chloe made their way across campus, and imagined that on less blustery days and less blustery months, the student body made better use of it; he could almost picture the girls tanning while shaggy dudebros serenaded them with Wonderwall, all while texbooks sat opened but unread nearby.

Do guys still play Wonderwall? They have to, right?

"I think," Chloe interrupted his musings, "the coffee shop is over there."

"Alright," replied John, following her pointed finger to a fine looking but unremarkable building that he was certain bore the name of some small-time local tycoon, a midwestern Ozymandias, having spent up a good deal of his fortune for what amounted to a plaque everyone would ignore.

"At least I hope so," Chloe said. "Cammy said she'd meet us there but that was a couple hours ago and she hasn't answered any texts since then."

"Well at least we can get some coffee, right?" John said.

This, unfortunately, had not turned out to be the case; they indeed had found a coffee shop as Chloe had predicted, but it was, like the rest of the campus, already abandoned as students fled home for the holiday.

"So much for the coffee," Chloe sighed as she slumped into a chair next to a table which was, like all the others in the shop, completely empty.

"Any word from your sister?" John asked, taking a seat opposite her and looking about the place, finding no signs of life.

Chloe pulled out her phone and began manipulating it. "I'll try texting again." When she had finished doing so, she sighed again and looked around the deserted room.

"Thinking about old times?" John offered.

She responded with a little laugh "Yeah, right," she said. "My wild college days."

"You mean you and Zoe never got up to anything wild?" John asked. "Hard to believe."

She looked at him with a funny little smile for slightly too long for comfort before answering. "I was never really... you know... before."

John indicated with his expression that he did not, in fact, know.

"I mean," she said, "like how we, I mean, you and me..."

"John!"

Chloe's gradually slowing explanation was cut short by a voice that John could not place, at first literally in addition to figuratively. He looked left, then right before his eyes settled on a rather shapely girl standing with one hand resting on the coffee shop counter. Her jeans hugged her generous curves tightly, and her little white top barely managed to contain her ample chest. Her hair threw him for a second in that it was a bright shade of blue, quite different from when he had last seen her.

"Phoebe?"

"In the flesh," she responded, making her way over to their table. "If you're cruising for college girls, I think you came at a bad time."

John could almost feel Chloe's inquisitive gaze on his face. He forced a chuckle unconvincingly. "Not quite. Uh, Phoebe, Chloe, Chloe, Phoebe," he gestured.

"Oh, I guess you already found one," Phoebe said. "Nice to meet you, Chloe." She slid into a chair between the two. "Nice pull, by the way."

Chloe, looking confused asked, "So, uh, Phoebe? How do you know John?" Her eyes went immediately to John upon finishing the question.

"Oh," Phoebe answered, "I wouldn't say I really

know

him.

Knew

him, I guess." She shot a wicked smile at John.

Thanks, Phoebe, very helpful.

"Phoebe and I went on a date a while back," John clarified. "Months ago. What a weird thing to run into you here. I thought you graduated?" He watched Chloe's reaction out of the corner of his eyes as he spoke, yet was unable to parse its subtleties.