by E. J. Noyes
Her shoulders dropped fractionally, relief evident in the slow grin that spread across her mouth. Her mouth. Focus, Jana. Plenty of time for kissing and more later. She nodded. “That sounds like a very good starting point. Maybe we can reassess goalposts and the speed of our progress as necessary?”
“That sounds like a solid plan.”
“Good.” Another kiss, and this time she lingered to suck my lower lip. “So, just to confirm. What are we calling this exactly?”
I pondered for only a few seconds until I realized exactly what I wanted to call it. Something I hadn’t wanted in more years than I could recall. My response came out with a little bit of uncertain squeakiness. “Dating?”
Chapter Twenty-One
By the time Brooke walked me down to my car, I was so keyed up from hormones and adrenaline that I was about ready to burst out of my skin. Her goodbye kiss, delivered as she leaned through my open car door, seemed intentionally chaste and I was both grateful and frustrated. Grateful because if she went further then I’d never leave, and frustrated for the same reason. I gathered some of my wits to ask, “Do you want to come around tomorrow? Dinner and TV?” And making out.
“Sounds great.” She gently took my face in both hands and kissed me once more, tender and sweet before murmuring her goodbye. You’re really not helping the hormones, Brooke. Though of course she couldn’t know yet that someone holding my face while they kissed me was an instant aphrodisiac.
“Okay, great,” I mumbled.
She closed my car door, her expression making it clear she was suffering the same issues as me. With a reluctant wave, I drove away from the woman I was now apparently dating.
Dating.
I drove for a few blocks with that word bouncing around in my head, then crossed two lanes—to the pissed-off honking of at least two cars who were apparently blind to my indicator—to pull over with my hazards on. It only took ten seconds to tap out a text to Sabs.
I think I might have an almost girlfriend.
Then I turned my phone to silent, tossed it facedown onto the passenger seat and the whole way home listened to the vibration of a zillion texts and calls from my undoubtedly frantic sister. Heh. Consider this payback, Sabine, for being such an evasive shithead when I first asked you about Bec.
When I checked my phone once home I had five missed calls and seventeen text messages, each one escalating in “Answer me, you annoying bitch” factor. I knew she’d think I’d had an accident or something, so I responded to her with a simple Amazing, right?
I spent a while in the shower releasing some pent-up energy, which was made all the sweeter by the newfound knowledge of exactly how Brooke’s hands and mouth felt. Then I made dinner, enough for at least seven, and bundled up the leftovers into the freezer to take over for Sabs and Bec. And only then, an hour and a half after I’d sent my last text to Sabs, did I call her.
She answered with a grumbled, “Fuck you and your dramatic pauses. I’ve been dying here waiting for details.”
In the background I heard Bec call, “She’s right! Driving me insane!”
I smothered a laugh and laced my response with innocence. “What? I’ve been busy. Cooking for you and Bec actually.”
“Mmph. Enough bullshit. Come on, spill!”
I toed the dishwasher closed. “As much as I hate to admit it, you were right. Short version is I told her how I felt, and she said okay let’s do this and see what happens. And then we, um…tested if I was comfortable with the idea.”
“Ha! I told you! Didn’t I fucking tell you? When are you seeing her next?”
“Tomorrow night, here, for dinner and stuff.”
“Stuff? You are so going to sleep with her!”
“Jesus, Sabs. At least pretend to be discreet.”
My sister’s laughter was loud and mirthful. “Jannie, not that we had much to begin with, but we lost all discretion and modesty when you had to help me shower and use the toilet after The Incident.”
“Good point.” I leaned against the counter. “And I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.” But I hoped for more of the same of what’d happened at Brooke’s place that afternoon. A lot more of the same.
The next day was a rainy late summer’s day, perfect for being inside with your brand-new girlfriend. Brooke arrived in the early evening, now casually dressed in shorts and a polo instead of work clothes, and carrying a bottle of white. Her smile was tentative, until I pulled her close to share an unhurried kiss in my doorway. I had her pressed against the doorframe, my hand sliding under her shirt to clutch her hip before my brain realized that we could be sharing unhurried kisses inside and where my only floor neighbor wouldn’t see.
Once the door had closed, Brooke offered me the bottle. “For you. Or us really. Sorry, I’m weirdly nervous all of a sudden.”
“Thank you. And honestly, I’m a little nervous too.” I snuggled an arm around her waist, pulled her close and maneuvered us to the kitchen. “But, it’s just like any other time we’ve spent together, right?”
“Right, it is.” She let out a long breath as though forcing herself to relax. “So are we staying in, or do you want to go out?”
I set the wine on the counter. “Stay in. Every moment we’re outside these walls is a moment I don’t get to cuddle on the couch with you. Do you mind if we order something? I cooked up a storm for Sabs and Bec last night, and I so don’t feel like staring at the stove right now. Aaaand…see aforementioned comment about wanting to cuddle with you every moment I can.”
“Jana Fleischer, you really are the most adorable softy.” She brushed my hair back and kissed me again.
I could almost feel the nervousness draining from her, and the more she kissed me, the more at ease I felt too. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to kissing her, the gentle thrill that coursed through my body from even the most innocent brush of lips. “Don’t tell anyone. Big bad bitch image and all that.” I backed into the kitchen. “Just so we’re clear, when I said cuddle, I actually meant making out.”
“Even better,” she drawled. “But before that, I need to fortify myself with food. Stamina, you know. I’m craving something like Vietnamese.”
“Sounds great. Why don’t you check out some places while I pour us a glass?”
“Sure, but um could I use your phone or laptop? I forgot my phone.” She grinned sheepishly. “I was so excited to see you that I left in a rush and forgot it.”
“Now who’s the adorable softy? Laptop’s on the coffee table.”
“Thanks.”
When I came back less than a minute later with a wineglass in each hand, I noted right away that she wasn’t Googling places to get dinner. She was reading the why I want to kiss her list. Oh holy shitballs. I’d totally forgotten that I’d just closed the laptop on it in my frantic what the hell is going on? from a few days before. My mild embarrassment turned to profound embarrassment. I rushed through a bunch of explanations, but all I managed to articulate was, “Oh. Fuck.”
Brooke twisted around on the couch, then stood, her expression one of careful neutrality. “Do you mean this?”
I set the glasses down on the coffee table, acutely aware that my ears were hot and undoubtedly turning red. “Yeah, I did but it’s stupid. I was just so confused and I thought if I could get some words out then maybe it’d help me understand why—”
A firm kiss shut me right up and the softening press of her lips on mine kept me that way. She lingered, her tongue stroking lightly over my lip. “It’s fucking incredible, and so sweet.” She kissed me again, just the edge of my mouth. “You like my ears?”
“Yes.”
“You think I’m beautiful, with nice body parts?”
“Mhmm. Very much so, on both counts.”
“And…you care about me?”
“Yes, I do. A lot.”
Brooke pulled me close, nuzzling the spot under my ear. “Likewise, FYI, for all of the above. Seriou
sly, where have you been all these years?”
“Oh you know, just hanging around waiting for someone to literally sweep me off my feet.”
She pulled back, eyes narrowed but still creased with a smile at their corners. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
I grinned. “Nope.”
“I suppose I’ll just have to replace that clumsy move with a slicker one.” In a maneuver that surprised the hell out of me, both for its speed and strength, Brooke hooked her hands under my ass, lifted me up and onto the couch, then settled on top of me. I squeaked. She silenced the squeak with a long, toe-curling kiss. I made an indistinct groan-slash-moan-slash-oh-my-goodness sound. She silenced that one too. And every other sound I made for the next fifteen minutes or so.
We finally managed to pry ourselves apart to order fantastic Vietnamese, which we ate sitting on the couch watching a Survivor rerun. As it turned out, Brooke was a huge fan and she picked apart strategy and gave me running updates in between mouthfuls of pho.
Midway through a council thing I set my coconut shrimp on the coffee table and snatched up my vibrating phone to silence a notification. A dating site connection request. Snorting, I followed the link to my profile to decline, and by the time I’d opened the page my snort had turned to chuckles. “Oh, not a chance,” I muttered.
Brooke swallowed her mouthful. “Pardon?”
“Just some guy on one of my dating apps.” In the whirlwind that had been Brooke and me, I’d completely forgotten to deactivate my dating profiles.
“Oh.” She shifted slightly, set down her dinner and wiped her fingers on a paper napkin. Her movements were slow, almost overly cautious.
“What?”
“I just realized we haven’t really talked fully about this, about what this means.” Brooke gestured between us. “How serious it is, or might get. If it’s just some casual enjoyment or a potential long-term relationship or whatever else.”
I muted the television. A sudden fear made my chest tight, and I was stunned by its intensity. “Do you think I’m not really into it?”
“I’ll be honest, when you first told me yesterday, I was worried that maybe it was just a fleeting exploration thing. God I hate this term, but, a…” She made air quotes. “Phase. Then after you left I spent some time thinking about it, and I realized I didn’t care about that. There are plenty of reasons why things might not work out and missing an opportunity because of my fear or whatever seemed silly.”
“What about, you know…my past,” I whispered dramatically.
“Oh, the guy thing? Doesn’t bother me at all. Everyone has people they dated before.” She pushed hair away from her face. “If you’re going to cheat, or leave me to have another relationship then why does the gender of the other person matter?” Brooke’s eyes widened. “Are you the cheating type? Fuck, sorry that’s kind of weird and accusatory, but I think we should probably talk about that sort of thing before we, uh, really start anything beyond just making out on the couch.”
“No, I’m definitely not the cheating type. Honestly there’s been very few ‘let’s be exclusive’ scenarios in my life. But I’m the-once-I-commit-then-I’m-committed type.” I had to clamp down on the words that were about to follow. The words that were about to admit that I thought I wanted to commit to her long term.
Brooke’s relief was palpable, but she still held an edge of disquiet. Her fingers went to a thread on the knee of her shorts and tugged until it broke. “As a kid I was really bad at sharing my toys, and I’m afraid adulthood hasn’t improved me much.”
“Toys? That’s what I am? A…plaything?” I let the word roll off my tongue.
“Well you’re certainly fun to play with,” she said, her voice the low sultry whisper that promised delicious things later. Then she sobered. “Jana, my ex really wasn’t the let’s be exclusive type. I thought she was, but once we’d moved in together I discovered she was more the let’s have an open relationship type. She dropped a bunch of very unsubtle hints about it and then laughed it off as a joke when I freaked out because that’s not me, I’m not…like that. I kind of want you to myself if we’re going to take this further.”
“And that you shall have. It was an honest oversight. You and me literally just happened and I hadn’t even thought about those profiles. Here, look.” I turned my phone around, and despite her protests that it was okay and she didn’t need to see and she trusted me to be honest, with a few swift finger strokes and taps I set all my accounts to inactive. “Done.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Sorry, my dating history isn’t really something that’s ever come up, is it?”
“Not really. Do you want to talk about it? I mean we’re already discussing such things as where this might go and what we’re expecting from each other.”
“Well…” She let out a long breath. “Like I said before my last ex wasn’t the monogamous type so that didn’t work out. The ex before that wasn’t the sympathetic type, especially not with my um, anxiety and all that stuff so that really didn’t work out. That stuff plus the weirdness with my family has made me a bit wary about things beyond casual, easy fling-type things.”
“Oh, Brooke.” I slid closer to her. “I’m sorry.” Previously, it’d been utterly mind-boggling to me that someone like Brooke—sweet, kind, funny, thoughtful—didn’t have women falling all over her. Now I realized that maybe she did but she was just as afraid as I was of commitment, but for different reasons. The simplest reason of all. She’d been hurt.
“I just want you to know that I’m into this, but I need some time to be comfortable with the concept of moving beyond just…spending time together getting to know each other more and um, physical enjoyment.”
“Okay, sure. No pressure, just taking it as it comes.”
She bit her lower lip. “I really do like the physical enjoyment stuff though.”
“Me too…”
We spent a good portion of our supposed television evening not actually watching the TV but indulging in micro make-out sessions. All clothing remained on, though not in place. Brooke’s careful exploration probably gave her a fairly good idea of exactly where and how much I love lips on my neck. And I discovered her ticklish spots. And also some not so ticklish spots that still made her utter a choked sort of groan that in turn made my stomach clench.
When ten p.m. rolled around, Brooke gently sat up, dislodging me who was on top and pressed full length against her, and mumbled, “I should get home.”
“Mmmph. Bad idea.” But I still pushed myself up and rolled off the couch.
Reluctance poured off her in waves as she gathered her things, and it was on the tip of my tongue to ask her to stay. To take me to bed and show me everything I’d been imagining. I was sure if I asked, she would without hesitation. Every time she touched me, kissed me or murmured sensual things in my ear she showed me she wanted this. But underneath it all was this almost gentlewomanly quality, a respectfulness that made me even more convinced that waiting a little while was the right thing. She seemed to know I was afraid—not only of the actual act of sex, or if I’d be any good or if I’d enjoy it—but afraid of what it would mean for us to take that next step.
“So I’ll see you for coffee in the morning?” And try to restrain myself from kissing her the moment I saw her. Surprisingly, we’d managed some actual conversation in between the physical getting to know you. She was worried about her dad and we’d agreed that PDAs in the vicinity of our workplaces were probably not particularly professional.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Great. So, listen. If it’s not too much too soon, Sabine and Bec have a dinner thing at their place on Wednesday if you’re free?”
“I’m free.”
“And if you’d like to come.”
She raised both eyebrows, a deliciously naughty grin forming on those kissable lips. “I’d very much like to come.” After a wink, she amended her response. “And I’d like to join you guys for d
inner.”
Her teasing response had tightened my nipples, sent a thrill through my core and it was all I could do to not throw myself at her. “Just so you’re not surprised, Mitch and Mike will be there too. Dinner, well dessert, is doubling as the final cupcake selection test for the wedding. But it’s just them, so six of us in total. I think it’ll just be a barbeque or something like that, nothing fancy.”
“Sure thing, sounds great. Mitch is Sabine’s best friend, right?”
“Mhmm. Best friends since college, just one of those weird friendships that you don’t think would work but does. And he and his boyfriend Mike met in the Army.”
“Is the military secretly doubling as some sort of LGBT matchmaking service?”
“Seems like it, doesn’t it?” I passed Brooke her umbrella. “Both guys are really sweet, but if you’re uncomfortable at all, at any time, we can leave.”
“It’ll be fine, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. Heh.
* * *
The next few days were wonderfully uneventful, except for the added Brooke time. I met her for morning coffee dates and then spent Tuesday at her place for more of the dinner/television/making out on the couch like horny teenagers. By Wednesday night, I was at an eleven on the ten-scale of “Want to have sex with Brooke” and climbing higher each hour in her company.
We stopped in at my place to change after work on our way to dinner at Sabs and Bec’s and I could tell she was uneasy, though she did a good job of hiding it. By now I was tuned to the fine tension in her body, how she clipped the words at the end of sentences, and how she filled her anxious space with words. I let her be, except for reaching over to entwine my fingers with hers while I drove one-handed.
Brooke hung back a little when I rang the doorbell, having decided for once that using my key and letting myself in as I usually did was perhaps a little weird when I was bringing a guest for the first time ever. My plan to ease her into the group fell apart the moment Sabs answered the door, bouncing around like an excited puppy. Bec stood behind Sabine like a person who’d given up trying to control that excited puppy. I re-introduced Brooke to Sabs, then introduced her to Bec, who was a master at putting people at ease. They did their usual fold a person into the family gig, acting like they’d known Brooke for years, which for Bec involved being her usual sweet self and for Sabs being her bossy self and asking Brooke if she’d mind giving her a hand with some task.
