Driven to Distraction

“Ketely, I tried to tell John that he was burning the steaks, but he insists that they’re fine. I hope it’s edible,” Carol, John’s mom, told me as she set a plate of food in front of me.

I laughed and shook my head. “It’s fine, Mrs. O’Callaghan. I’ll eat it whether it’s edible or not.”

She laughed and sat down at one end of the table. Ross and Shane, John’s younger brothers, took their seats across from me, finishing a conversation they had been having prior to coming into the room. John and John Sr., his father, were the last to come into the room. John sat beside me as his dad took his seat at the head of the table.

“Eat the baked potato and corn first,” John whispered.

I stifled back a laugh as I looked at him. “Why?”

“So you don’t have to eat the steak.”

I playfully slapped his thigh, shaking my head and smiling. “It doesn’t look that bad.”

“Oh? Stick your fork in it,” he told me.

I lifted my fork skeptically and stabbed it into the steak, which became increasingly hard the further into the meat I went. I looked at John and nodded my head. “Potato and corn it is.”

He chuckled and took a sip of his iced tea. “Told you.”

“How’s your father been, Ketely? I haven’t talked to him in ages,” John Sr. asked me before taking a bite of his steak.

“He’s doing good, just busy with work. He’s a bit of a workaholic,” I joked, causing John’s parents to laugh.

“What’s a workaholic? Is it like an alcoholic?” Shane asked, looking to his parents for an answer.

Carol laughed, shaking her head. “No, honey. A workaholic is just someone who likes to work a lot,” she explained.

“Oh,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Are you going out tonight, John?” his father questioned.

John shook his head. “Ketely and I are just gonna hang here.”

Carol’s brows arched, almost as if she were shocked. “Well this is a surprise. You haven’t spent the night of your birthday at home since, let me see … you were fourteen.”

I looked at John. “Really?”

He shrugged indifferently. “I usually always hang out with friends. But this year, I have you,” he smiled.

I felt my cheeks warm and Ross and Shane began snickering at their brother and I, to which John rolled his eyes. The rest of dinner was spent having light conversation and telling memories of John’s previous birthdays.

I loved spending time with John and his family; they were all so close with each other. They had their little disagreements here and there, but at the end of the day, they were a family. I missed having that. I missed that closeness. Sure, Danny, my father and I would get together on Christmas and once in awhile during the summer, but that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough for me, at least.

“Feel like watching some TV?” John asked, rising from his chair.

“Yeah, just a minute.” I looked at Carol. “Would you like any help in the kitchen?”

“Oh, no, no, Ketely. You and John go ahead. I’ll have these two help me with cleaning up,” she told me, gesturing towards Ross and Shane, who both groaned.

I smiled and stood up, following John into the living room. He sat down against one end of the couch, and I sat beside him, leaning against his side. He wrapped his right arm around me and grabbed the remote with his left.

“What do you feel like watching?”

“Friends is on,” I told him, noticing that it was seven o’clock.

He laughed. “And how do you know that?”

“Because it happens to be my favorite show,” I told him, smiling proudly.

“Dork,” he teased, flipping to the channel that was playing the sitcom.

“I’ll let you get away with that since it’s your birthday and you let me watch my show.”

He grinned. “You’d let me get away with it even if it wasn’t my birthday, Morrison.”

“Don’t be so sure, O’Callaghan,” I laughed, averting my eyes to the screen. As the show went on, I saw John shake his head out of the corner of my eye. “What?”

“She’s so stupid.”

“Who?”

“Rachel. I don’t see what the big deal is. Ross made the list but he apologized. Cut the dude some slack,” he stated.

I pulled out of his arms, looking at him. “What?! John, he made a list depicting all of her flaws. Do you have any idea how bad it would hurt to have someone who you love and care about romantically, do that to you?”

He shrugged. “I’d move on because I would know that that person loved me anyway. And, if she would’ve listened to him, she would’ve seen that on the other side of that list, he wrote ’she’s not Rachel’.”

“Men,” I sighed, leaning back into him.

He chuckled. “I’m just being honest.”

“Oh, I know. That’s the sad part,” I laughed.

John began running his fingertips up and down my arm, causing small goosebumps to form on my skin. I tried to keep my attention on the show, but he was making it difficult.

“Oh, come on now! He had a radio station play a song for her!” John blurted, causing me to laugh.

“Do you want me to make this better for you?”

“What do you mean?”

I rolled my eyes, sitting up straight. “Ross and Rachel do get back together.”

“Well, they better have. He dedicated a U2 song to her.”

I laughed. “And what does that mean?”

“He dedicated With or Without You to her. It doesn’t get any better than that,” he stated.

“Would you expect me to forgive you if you played that song for me?”

He smirked, his green orbs looking at me. “I would sing it to you.”

“I’d love to hear that,” I smiled, resting my chin on the palm of my hand.

He muted the TV and looked at me, brushing a few strands of hair behind my ear. “See the stone set in your eyes; see the thorn twist in your side. I wait for you. Sleight of hand and twist of fate, on a bed of nails she makes me wait. And I wait, without you. With or without you, with or without you,” he sang, his voice so soft, making me melt.

“Through the storm we reach the shore. You give it all, but I want more. And I’m waiting for you,” I sang with him, making a smile spread across his face.

“See?”

I didn’t answer him as I pulled on the collar of his tee shirt, pressing my lips against his, kissing him. It was soft and innocent at first, but it wasn’t long before our tongues began wrestling each other. I was falling onto my back, slowly, and John’s hands were slipped underneath my tank top. My mind was in a sort of haze and if it hadn’t been for the sound of a plate clinking against something, I would have forgotten that John and I were in his family’s living room. I pulled away, feeling breathless.

“Not here,” I told him.

He nodded his head and stood up, reaching for my hand. He led us upstairs and into his bedroom. He locked the door before we both took a seat on his bed.

“Do – I mean, are you-“

I shook my head. “I’m not ready for that yet.” I looked at him, seeing the disappointment etched onto his face. I smiled and crawled over to him, resting my legs on each side of his waist. “But that doesn’t mean that we can’t do other things. It is your birthday, after all … gifts are in order,” I stated, running my fingertips down his chest.

A light blush swept over his cheeks, but that arrogant smirk of his never left his lips. “I do love gifts.”

I brought my lips to his neck, sucking lightly here and there before raising his shirt up. I ran my fingers over his chest and stomach, causing him to shudder. I smiled and brought my hands to a stop at the top of his jeans. I carefully undid the buckle and zipper, not stopping to second guess myself. If I was going to do this, I had to do it before I lost my nerve.

Once his jeans were off, I lightly traced the lining of his boxers before pulling them down as well. My eyes widened as I took in the sight of John, putting all of my thoughts to a stop. He gave a small cough and I realized that my staring was most likely making him uncomfortable. I licked my lips as I lowered myself down, my lips hovering just over his length.

“Happy Birthday, John,” I whispered.