Hey Jealousy
Avery Sam
Hey Jealousy
by Avery Sam
Copyright Information
Hey Jealousy
by Avery Sam
© 2026 Avery Sam
All rights reserved.
Author: Avery Sam
Contact details: averysam.parachute371@passinbox.com
Book cover, illustration: Avery Sam
Editing, proofreading: Avery Sam
This e-book, including its portions, is protected by copyright and may not be reproduced, resold, or redistributed without the permission of the author.
If you liked the e-book, recommend that your friends buy a personal copy. A big thank you for respecting the author's work!
Table of Contents
Copyright Information
Table of Contents
Gorilla Hands
Spicy Stuff
Start Casual
Come Out and Say Hello
We Mean Business
Winner
Also by Avery Sam
Gorilla Hands
I take off my shirt and then carefully fold it before setting it down neatly on the edge of my dresser.
After taking a couple of quick breaths to get my adrenaline flowing, I sit down on the edge of my weight bench, mentally primed and ready to get in a good workout. But just as I get myself in position underneath the bar, the door to my room comes flying open and Monique comes barging in.
“What’s up, loser?” cackles Monique.
Ever since she and her dad moved into the house a little over a year ago, she has never once knocked before coming into a room. I quickly learned to keep the bathroom door locked, but there’s just something about locking myself in my own room that makes my skin crawl. Why should I have to be a prisoner just because she was raised by wolves and doesn’t know how to behave like a civilized person?
“What do you want, Monique?” I say with a little sigh.
“Sorry if I interrupted your jerk-off session,” says Monique with a lewd chuckle.
“You didn’t... never mind,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Look, if it’s about my music, I already talked to Mom and she said...”
“Nah, I’m not here for that,” says Monique, walking over and taking a seat on the edge of my bed, causing the blanket to pull down a little and ruin the aesthetic. “I’m here because I need your gorilla hands.”
“Huh?” I say, trying to ignore how wrinkled the blanket looks now because I know if I say anything, she’ll just make fun of me.
“You know my boyfriend Josh, right?” says Monique, crossing one leg over the other.
Of course I know Josh, and of course she knows that I know who he is. He’s the star quarterback on the varsity team. I’ve got a tryout next week for the junior varsity squad, and one good word from him to the coach would mean everything. Not that he knows that I exist or anything. He’s the most popular guy in school, and I’m just his girlfriend’s little stepbrother.
“Yeah...” I say, inwardly wishing she’d just get right to the point so I could get my workout in while the protein powder I consumed earlier is at maximum potency.
“Well, he, um... let’s just say we had a parting of the ways,” says Monique with a barking laugh.
“Oh,” I say, not really sure what she means or why she’s even telling me about this.
Not only is Monique older than me, but she’s a charter member of the social stratosphere in school that might as well exist in an alternative universe than the level where I’m at. All I really know about her and her friends is that they come blazing down the hallway in a whirl of expensive perfume, loud gossip, and cool clothes.
Sometimes, when people find out I’m technically related to her, they’re foolish enough to ask me for her phone number or how they can send her a DM. What they don’t know is that she thinks everyone who isn’t in her circle is a straight-up loser.
“He caught me liking this college guy’s photos on Instagram,” says Monique with a sigh. “I tried to tell him that it was Brittany’s cousin and that he used to babysit me when I was, like, 9 years old, but he just didn’t listen. Ugh, so dumb, you know?”
“I guess,” I say.
If there is any benefit at all to being amongst the “invisible” folks at the bottom end of the social ladder, it’s that we get to avoid all the drama. I’m not saying I like everyone who sits at my table during lunch, but we’ve never once had anyone burst into tears or get into heated arguments over what someone was wearing or who said what to whom.
“And yeah, I mean, he is pretty hot,” says Monique with a giggle. “But so what? That shit doesn’t mean anything. It was just a dumb swim team photo anyway. But Josh got all sulky and now, like, he’s refusing to answer my calls, and he’s leaving all my messages unread.”
“Sorry, uh, to hear that,” I say.
“Yeah, so like, the word going around is that, like, he broke up with me. And I just can’t have that. Do you know what I mean?” says Monique, giving me an intense look.
“No, not really,” I say, starting to get a bit irritated that she’s preventing me from getting in my workout when my levels are all at maximum.
“Oh right, I forgot you’re an incel,” says Monique with a barking laugh. “You and one of your dweeb friends are probably gonna shoot up the school one of these days, right?”
“Hey!” I say, my skin flush with heat.
If there’s one term that I loathe, it’s 'incel.' First of all, there are plenty of people who choose not to be in a romantic relationship with people. My buddy Breen is like that. According to him, it’s called being an “ace,” which sounds pretty badass in my book.
As for the rest of us, this endless chasing after a girlfriend makes you look pretty desperate, as far as I’m concerned. I mean, treating human beings like statistics and arguing over how many times you’ve kissed someone or had sex is messed up. Attraction should be natural, and putting all this pressure on people when they're young makes everything weird and difficult.
“But for someone like me, a top ten hottie, getting dumped is unacceptable,” says Monique, uncrossing her legs and giving me a quick and uncomfortable glimpse of her camel toe poking through the thin fabric of her leggings.
That’s another thing that always irks me about Monique and her friends. Somewhere along the way, it suddenly became cool for girls to wear workout clothes all the time, prancing around in skin-tight leggings and revealing sports bras or crop tops. Honestly, I don’t see how such outfits are permitted, especially when I know darn well some of them have never seen the inside of a gym, including Monique, although she is mysteriously rather fit.
“Uh-huh,” I say, tugging down my shorts leg as I mentally will my cock to stop acting up and just lie still.
“I already heard Kennedi and Kianna talking about Josh maybe taking some girl from Westvale to the Harvest Dance, and I know that shit isn’t going to happen because Josh hates Westvale,” says Monique. “But the point is, everyone thinks we’re broken up.”
“Right...” I say.
“And that cannot happen, do you understand?” says Monique, jumping to her feet and pacing around. “I mean, if he wants to play these stupid games, then fine. But I’m going to be the one who breaks up with him. Hell, I’ll do it right in the middle of a school assembly. I don’t care. But I’m not gonna have my reputation dragged into the mud because he can’t control his jealousy!”
Spicy Stuff
“Um, sure,” I say, my stomach doing a sour flip as I realize that Josh might block any chance of me making the team as a way to get revenge on Monique, now that they're not together anymore.
“So yeah, I need him to come crawling back to me,” says Monique, emphasizing that last word by pointing at her chest, forcing me once again to tear my gaze away. “Then, if he grovels at my feet enough, I might consider taking him back. If not, I’ll put him on blast with every single person in the group chat!”
“Uh-huh,” I say, staring down at the floor just as a safety precaution. After all, there’s nothing stimulating or exciting about the floor, is there? No. It’s nice and flat and has zero curves or jiggly bits.
“The problem is, I need this to happen fast, you know what I mean?” says Monique, pacing around my room. “Everyone’s going to be at the grand opening of the new wing of the Tysdale Mall tomorrow, and I need at least one pic of me and Josh together on my socials before then.”
“Right,” I say.
“Just one teeny, tiny picture of him with his arm around my waist and the two of us smiling, just to quash all these stupid rumors,” says Monique, stopping to pick up one of my action figures for a second before returning it to the shelf. “Then I can crush Josh like a bug if I want.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, relieved now that it looks like the conversation has come to an end and I can get back to my workout.
“But to trigger his jealousy and make him realize what a big mistake he made, I’m going to need to do something drastic,” says Monique. “I’m gonna need to post some pictures of me with another guy.”
“Uh-huh,” I say with a little sigh as I realize she’s nowhere close to running out of gas with this stupid obsession over Josh.
“I need, like, something hot, you know? Something daring!” says Monique, stopping for a moment to examine the P-51 Mustang model I’ve got hanging from the ceiling. “Something that’ll make the group chat blow up. Something that’ll have him running red lights to get over here and beg me to take him back.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” I say, waiting until her back is turned before going over to my bed and quickly straightening out the blanket.
“And for that, I’m going to need a guy, you know?” says Monique, frowning as I retake my seat on the weight bench. "The hotter, the better."
“Okay,” I say with a little shrug, my focus now on the fact that I just saw my pillow is still not quite straight.
“Of course, I could snap my fingers and get half a dozen simps over here in an hour,” says Monique with a mocking chuckle. “But that’s not gonna work, is it? I can’t be seen with some loser. I need someone hot to be my mystery guy.”
“I guess,” I say, not really following along.
“Preferably, some college stud with six-pack abs and a cool car,” says Monique with a sound that’s almost a moan. “If Josh saw me hanging out with someone like that, he’d go ballistic! Oh man, that’d be perfect.”
“Uh-huh,” I say.
“Mmm, especially if he had his shirt off,” says Monique, practically licking her lips. “Just one of my hands on his tight, toned waist, maybe his shorts ‘accidentally’ riding so low on his hips that you could just make out a few wisps of pubic hair above the waistband? Oh hell yeah, that’d be so fucking hot. I can already picture it now.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, chiding my cock for stirring at the sound of all her moaning.
“Anyway, where was I?” says Monique with a little laugh. “Oh, right. I need some pictures of me and a guy to post on my socials, and he's got to be hot enough to get Josh all flustered and beg me to take him back.”
“Right,” I say, wishing my phone was closer so I could see what time it was, but it's over on my desk so I wouldn't accidentally hit it during my workout.
“So yeah, that’s where you come in,” says Monique, flouncing down on the edge of my bed.
“Huh?” I say, utterly confused.
“I need you to take some pictures of me,” says Monique. “Maybe even a couple of short videos. Yeah, something I can post in the group chat. That way, everybody will see it, and word will get to Josh.”
“I don’t get it,” I say.
“Are you retarded now?” says Monique with a little laugh. “I need you and your gorilla hands to hold my phone and take some friggin’ pictures of me. What is so hard to understand about that?”
“Don’t say that,” I say, cringing inside every time I hear her nickname for me.
I mean, it’s not my fault my hands are a bit bigger than usual. People take one tiny difference and exaggerate it until you feel like a freak, and I hate it.
“Why not? Hey, have you been working out?” says Monique, walking over to where I’m sitting and looking me up and down. “You look stronger, somehow.”
“Um, thanks?” I say with a gulp.
“What is all this stuff?” says Monique, running her hand along the barbell and then the plates on one end. “This is some kind of gym thing, right?”
“Yeah, it’s a weight bench,” I say, amazed that she never noticed it despite having barged into my room half a dozen times since she moved in.
“Ah, so that’s what you’ve been doing in here,” says Monique with a little giggle. “You little sneak! All this time, I heard you grunting and puffing, and I thought you were jerking off.”
“What? No way,” I say, although the sizzle I can feel on my cheeks is probably betraying me.
“Anyway, wow, yeah, you’re actually getting some muscles,” says Monique, briefly touching me on my upper arm, which makes me flinch. “Damn, Dylan. You keep this up, you might get yourself a girlfriend after all.”
“Why can’t you just take pictures of yourself without me?” I say, desperate to change the conversation to prevent my cock from getting any wrong ideas. “Don’t you have like... a tripod or something?”
“Oh sweetie,” says Monique with a mocking laugh. “I’ve got a ring light, a selfie stick, and the whole works. I am a fashion influencer after all. I’ve probably got 50 different ways to take a photo of myself.”
“Then why do you need me?” I say, hating the whiny tone I can hear in my voice.
“Because Josh isn’t going to respond to a selfie, is he?” says Monique, circling behind me, which makes me feel quite uncomfortable, especially because I still have my shirt off. “No. I need to make it abundantly clear that a guy is taking photos of me.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised at how confused I feel about this unexpected request from her.
“I don’t want to use AI. I want it to look real,” says Monique. “I need maybe a hand in the frame or maybe one of those muscular arms of yours, you know, so it’s obvious there’s a guy taking the pictures.”
“I don’t know,” I say, my anxiety levels rising. “This kind of sounds like a bad idea.”
“Oh, yeah?” says Monique, briefly resting her hand on my shoulder before walking around to my front. “And why is that?”
“Well, um...” I say, finding it hard to think straight when my whole body is tingling. “Well, for one, what if Josh finds out it was me who took the pictures?”
“What do you mean?” says Monique, looking me up and down like I’m a piece of meat.
“I’m trying out for the team next week,” I say with a nervous gulp. “If he thinks I... well... I mean, you know. I just don’t want to get involved in whatever is going on between you and him.”
“Yeah, he can be a pretty vindictive dick sometimes,” says Monique with a laugh. “But don’t you worry your little head about this, Dylan. I don’t need any photos with your ugly face in the shot, just a hand or maybe an arm so he knows it was a guy.”
“Ah,” I say, feeling a bit relieved even though that last comment was rather mean.
“So, are you willing to help me out?” says Monique, stopping in her tracks to look me dead in the eye.
“Um, I guess so,” I say. “But I was really hoping to get in a workout right now. I drank a protein shake a half an hour ago, and it’s really kicking in right now and...”
“Nah, nah,” says Monique, cutting me off. “You can do all that later. I need those pics and videos now. The sooner the better. My reputation is on the line here.”
“Right,” I say with a little sigh of resignation. “Okay. Where’s your phone?”
“Um, we’re not doing it in here,” says Monique with a derisive chuckle. “Good lord! This place is a pigsty. No, no, no. We’re going to my bedroom.”
“Your bedroom?” I say.
“Yeah, Josh will recognize it for sure,” says Monique with a naughty grin. “Don’t tell my dad, okay? But I’ve snuck Josh into my room a couple of times for, well, you know...”
“Oh,” I say with a gulp, astounded that she would be so brazen as to do such a thing right under the nose of our parents.
“Sex is just so much hotter when you could get caught at any moment,” says Monique with a soft sigh of happiness. “I mean, not that you would know anything about it. But trust me. Breaking taboos is spicy stuff!”