Risky Business

"Do you catch a breath
When I look at you?
Are you holding back
Like the way I do?"

-5-

September1 7, 2014

Between the hours of 12 pm to 2 pm, I realized three things.

One: I was going to kill Natti Jonas.

Two: I was going to kill Dani Jonas.

Three: If I saw another LBD (little black dress), I was going to go up to the manager of Macy's and give her a thirty minute lecture on…even though they might have a different design, all LBDs look the same. And all LBDs are severely, SEVERELY overpriced.

Natti bribed me with a Snickers Bar to keep my mouth shut, so I wouldn't embarrass her or her future offspring.

Speaking of future offspring, I was pretty certain that another baby Jonas was on the way. Dani, in the hours of our shopping spree, had downed five Twix (both halves, so ten, if you're that way), and three bottles of Sprite. She was also covering up her burps and peeing a lot. Clearly, her eggo was preggo. I was just waiting for her tell me.

But, between Danielle's constant bathroom runs, I found myself in the dressing room, constantly stepping into dresses, fiddling with the zipper, and stepping out of the dresses.

I don't understand the style these days. They either show your bra or your panties. There's no good in-between where they're both covered. Oh, and if they looked perfect, once I got them on, they smushed my boobs and butt. Sucks. So, with that fact, I was getting thoroughly disgusted.

"Come on, Sonny," I heard Dani call from the other side of the door as we were quickly approaching hour 3 of Shopping Torture. "You have to at least let us see you in something."

"Then bring me something that doesn't show my ass and boobs. Then, you might see something." With those words, I threw the five half-dresses (you know the reason why), over the dressing room door, and bit back a laugh as I heard their yelps as they dodged from them.

A few minutes of sitting on the little bench of my dressing room later, a purple-and-green flower printed dress was slung over the door, and I grabbed it, frowning.

Before I could shove it back over the door, I was interrupted with: "If you try it on, we'll give you another Snickers Bar."

They knew me too well. I could never say no to chocolate.

Holding back a sigh, I slipped the dress over my head, letting it fall until it rested on my hips, and then I looked down. It went almost all the way down to my knees. Unfortunately though, cleavage was showing. And sure, if this was a normal date, I'd gladly wear the dress. It actually, as much as I hated to say it, looked good on me. It accented all of the right places, showing all of the right curves.

But this was Chad we're talking about. My best friend. I don't want to go out to dinner with him, purposely showing my cleavage.

"I hear silence."

"Maybe she likes it."

I was drawn out of my reverie by the voices of the pains-in-my-butt.

Rolling my eyes, I unlocked the door, and let it swing open. Dani and Natti's jaws unhinged in unison, and I knew that, no matter what I said and did now, I would have to buy the dress.

My little assumption was confirmed when Dani hugged me, and announced to the world that she had to pee (again).

I've learned that, once you get past the feeling of utter guiltiness over your (many, many) lies, you're still free to be who you are.

So when I had two married women attacking my hair at 5pm, I freely spewed off a few slang words, and cursed their husbands baby-makers (still hoping to get Dani to spill the news). She didn't. She was stubborn.

But she did get my hair to fall into perfect, famous-Shampoo-commercial waves.

Even I had to admit that I looked pretty damn good.

By six, I had makeup on, a pair of nice underwear (not that anyone would be seeing them anyway), and my pretty dress.

By the time Chad knocked on the door at 6:07, I was just a little pissed off.

Next time he gave me hell for being late, I'd remind him that he was late to our first real date. Well, not real real date, but real fake date.

He knocked, and knocked, and knocked, and I took my time opening the door, wanting to make him later than seven minutes. I was aiming for eight. That way, he'd just…never mind.

"Sonny, what kind of worm found its way into your apartment, crawled up your ass, and killed you?"

I rolled my eyes, threw the door open, and came face to face with a very stunned, yet very sexy looking, Chad.

I gulped, realizing that I had just thought of Chad as being sexy. Then again, I have pictured him naked before, so thinking of him as sexy isn't a big whoop.

Not that I…think about Chad being naked a lot. It just happened once, while I was reading this book. This girl just up and decided one day to seduce her best friend (a guy, of course), and the image of a naked Chad popped in my mind.

…Not that'd I'd ever go there.

Moving on.

But seriously, he was wearing a pair of tight non-skinny jeans, a black button down, and a red tie.

Okay, so maybe he went a little Nick J/Joe J with his wardrobe, but, then again, I had spent a day with Joe J's wife, so I couldn't blame him. I just stared at him.

And Chad stared right back.

It was like we were having this ultimate staring contest, gawking at each other's sexiness (and I did look the part).

"You look," Chad was the first one to humble himself and start speaking, "good."

For the love of flipping Billy Shakes, that was all my prick of a BFF could say? I mean, I didn't expect him to go all Chaucer on my ass or anything, but still. I looked better than good.

"And you look," I started up as I walked passed him, out the door and patting him on the shoulder, "decent."

Two could play at any game. And I was determined to win.

Chad just took up his staring after me again, open-mouthed, probably letting killer worms in.

Chad's idea of our first real fake fancy date was taking me to our usual other-hangout. I.e. Longhorn Steakhouse.

While he got the chicken covered in cheese, bacon, and BBQ sauce, I settled for the extra greasy hamburger, fries, and ranch dressing.

Don't get me wrong though, it was such a romantic dinner. I mean, Chad ordered a beer, took a long sip of it, and belched so loud that he caused the baby seated at the other end of the restaurant to cry. That's not the highlight, though. We were seated at a booth, up against the wall (cozy, I know). And while we could've been sitting under a stuffed deer head, or a bull's head, or something…we got to sit under a deer's ass, its little stuffed tail sticking up, saluting all passersby.

I know what you're thinking. You're jealous. I would be too.

At one point, Chad looked at me dead in the eye and said: "I think it'd make this atmosphere more…related if I farted in here. That way, it'd smell like a deer farted, and since we're sitting under Bambi's butt and all…"

(Thus began our conversation on how Chad knew how a deer's fart smelled.)

All in all, I had a lot of fun on my fake date with Chad. Nothing was different. That was, potentially, the problem.

We were just too comfortable with one another.

Then again, we are best friends.

In the midst of all of the fun, Chad received a phone call from one of his "exes". I use quotations because Chad has never really been in a serious relationship before. Heck, he hasn't even dated a girl for a whole month.

Or, at least, not since the first grade when Mary Jane dumped him for Jimmy Eisenhower (she liked him better because of his more presidential name).

(Side note: Nick J won't be running for president. He's just not the type. Shae would be the bitchiest first lady ever.)

But, Chad accepted the call. I could hear her screaming at him from the opposite end of the table. And sure, we were in a crammed, butt-loving space, but still.

And when the waitress came up, she heard the girl on the phone too, glanced at me, and shook her head.

She also shot me a warning glance.

Little did she know, I wasn't just some ex. I was the guy's bestie. I was in the in crowd.

Much to our dismay, we finally put down the forks, and I let Chad get the bill. After all, this was a fake date. And no, I would not be paying him back.

We then made our way to Publix, where Chad ran in and bought Dove Bars, while I stayed in the car and listened to his Owl City CD.

Thirty minutes and eight sluts' phone numbers on napkins later, Chad climbed in his car, winked at me, and fed me the "your place or mine?" line.

I scoffed, yanked the napkins out of his hand, and threw them out the window.

We ended up going back to my place, but not to do anything but watch all of the old Peyton Manning Super Bowls.

You see, Chad is fully against Peyton Manning. I'm fully in support of Peyton Manning.

In fact, despite his old age and all, I'd marry him if he wasn't married.

But still.

It was my life goal to prove to Chad that Peyton Manning was, indeed, THE best.

…And proving that fact was taking quite a while.

Around one in the morning, and three bags of chips later, I received a text from none other than Natti.

Did he like the dress? Or did he like ripping it off of u better? wink

That was one text.

Is the wink right cyber-speak, Son? Should it be *wink* or –wink- instead?

That was another text.

Son if u don't answer til morning. I understand. -/wink/- smiles

That was the second-to-last text.

Have fun bow-chica-bow-bow-ing. Did I spell that wrong?

Yes, Natti dear, you did spell that wrong.

With an eye roll, I threw my cell down on the coffee table and looked at my dress. It was on the floor, but not because Chad ripped it off of me. While Chad was in the bathroom, I changed to sweats and a hoodie in the living room.

Perfect after fake-date attire, I say.

Chad was just wearing his boxers and one of my sleeping shirts.

In truth, we really were the perfect, old, ratty, used-to-each other married couple.

"What was that about, Sonny?" Chad yawned, staring at the on-going, yet muted game in front of us. Super Bowl of 2010 seemed oh-so-far away.

I looked from my dress, to my phone, and then back to Chad.

Well, this was awkward.

"You know how Natti and Joe, just like Shae and Nick, and Kevin and Dani waited for…you know before marriage?" And as things were going, I was too, apparently. Not that Chad or Natti knew that.

"Um," Chad cringed, "I think so."

"Well, Natti apparently thinks that, just because, uh, she and Joe didn't do any of the uh, stuff, that we're not not doing the stuff." I frowned, and looked at my dress again.

Somewhere in my apartment, Chad's jeans and shirt were resting on the floor. Maybe, if we piled all of the clothes that we had previously been wearing together and invited Natti over, she'd…

Never mind.

I mean…This was kind of an awkward conversation between us. I mean, Chad has, I think. And I…I like God's idea of waiting for my husband.

I think that God's a pretty smart Man, y'know. I mean, He created the cocoa bean, which gave us Nutella, Hershey's, Snickers…

Yeah.

Anyway.

I forced my eyes away from our clothes, and looked at Chad expectantly.

Chad was leaning back on the couch, arms behind his head, with his big, egotistical smile plastered across his slightly obnoxious face.

Sometimes, at certain angles (such as said angle), I can see Chad as an old man…with his smile lines, and all. Still being egotistical and obnoxious, but still being my best friend.

But wait. Why was Chad smiling?

Natti thought that we're having…or doing…the deed.

Why was Chad smiling about that?

Did Chad like the idea of us…doing that?

I bit my lip, thinking back over my friendship with him, my heart fluttering as I thought of his twenty-first birthday.

But, of course, everything that happened on that day…happened because Chad was drunk. Chad did not remember a damn thing, and I didn't want him to.

In fact, I tried to forget it.

I feared that if he remembered what had happened, I'd lose him. I did not want to lose my bestie, thank you very much.

With a little sigh, I brushed those thoughts away and gave a still-smiling Chad a once-over.

"This. Is. Perfect, Sonny." Chad was, yet again, grinning all over himself.

Wait, did I miss something?

"When are you seeing Kevin's sex slave again?"

"I'm-" Wait. What?

"Huh?"

"Dani," Chad started, rolling his eyes, "is pregnant yet again. Didn't you know?"

I gave Chad THE look. He shrunk back and gave me a little shrug.

"No, dumbass, I didn't officially know. I just presumed. How the heck did you find out before me?"

"Easy with the language, Sonny." Chad held up his hands, laughing. "Nick got a little wasted at his party. He spilled the news to me. Kevin and Dani were supposedly waiting to tell everyone once they got past the month that…they definitely probably won't lose the baby anymore."

Oh. Can't be mad at Dani for that, then.

I frowned, then said a silent prayer that Baby Jonas II would get here safely.

"So anyway," I was still focused on the whole aspect of Baby Jonas II, whilst Chad was onto something else (Side note: not me), "when are you hanging out with the girls again?"

"I-I don't know." What a witty response Sonny. What a witty response.

"Well, let me know, Sonny. I'm going to make you a 'surprise' visit when you are."

"Why?" Again, so witty. Not.

"We need to kick our relationship up a notch. Take things up to the next level." I gulped, not fully understanding what Chad was saying.

Why would he want to change anything with us? I was perfectly happy with being his BFF. I wanted everything to stay the way that it was. Why did he want to take things to the next level?

Wait.

…Oh.

Our Fake Relationship.

"Oh. Um. How?"

"I know that you're not big on PDA, Sonny, but I think that might have to change." Okay. "And, right before you see them, please lemme know, 'cause that way, I'll give you a hickey, so they'll know things are happening, okay?"

No. Not okay.

Lyrics: Kiriaku, E; Crush by David Archuleta

A/N: So…not much to say. I'd just like to thank all of my reviewers and silent readers out there! It means so much to me that you take time out of your day to read this story.

Also, for those of you who celebrate it, have a blessed 4th!