by Adams, Sarah
“I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick. Please be here when I come back.” His words are gentle and sweet, and for some reason, this shifts my mind back to the feel of his lips against mine.
While Nathan is gone, I close my eyes and try to remember every detail, but it’s too hazy. Like a delicious dream you wake up from and feel slipping through your fingers. Did that kiss even happen? Nathan hasn’t mentioned it once, so it must not have meant much to him. But really, how could it? It lasted maybe two seconds.
It meant something to me.
Nathan comes back into the room just as I shove a pink square into my mouth. He looks incredible in his suit pants and loosened dress shirt. My mouth waters, but not from the candy.
He sits down on the far end of the couch and smiles. “Better?”
I nod and shift the soft taffy to my right cheek. I’m a chipmunk who hoards pink Starburst. “Better.”
“Do you want to watch some TV? Pick up where we left off in that comedy special?” He’s already reaching for the remote and my gaze snags on his exposed, muscled forearm. I’m hyperaware of him in ways I’ve never let myself dwell on before.
The TV turns on and a comedian spouts off a joke about pancakes. Then, as if nothing in the world is different, Nathan’s hand wraps around my bare foot and pivots my whole body so he can pull my feet into his lap. I stare with my mouth hanging loose as his thumbs push in and glide up my arches. His strong, calloused fingers knead my sore feet with expert care, even going so far as to dip past my ankle and press into my calves. For as hot as my skin feels, his hands are somehow hotter. Like stones, fresh from a fire and melting my skin away.
All I can do is stare, blink, savor. He’s touching me in an intimate way that has never happened as friends before. But for how much of a living, breathing hot tamale I am right now, Nathan is not even focusing on the life-changing massage he’s giving me. He’s watching the comedy special, loose-limbed and relaxed. Yeah, no big deal. Are we just those kinds of friends now? Friends who occasionally date? Friends who snuggle? Friends who…
“Nathan, we kissed tonight,” I blurt. Cool, Bree. Cool. Nice and smooth.
Nathan’s hands freeze on my skin, and his brows fly up. He pauses the TV then swivels his gaze to me. I kind of wish he’d left it going so it would fill the uncomfortable silence, but now we’re alone with my statement and it’s flicking us both between the eyes.
“I’m surprised you want to acknowledge it,” he says, confusing me with that answer.
“Do you not want to?”
The corner of his mouth tilts up. “I’ll talk about anything you want, anytime you want. We can even talk about how you destroyed my naked photo because you were so jealous of anyone else seeing it.”
I gasp and throw an orange Starburst at him. He laughs as it bounces off his bicep. “Not true! I did not destroy that poster on purpose! I didn’t even see it before my butt sliced through it! In fact, you could have warned me that we were headed to celebrate the birthday of the FORM ISSUE!”
He chuckles with his head falling back against the couch and lightly swats my shin twice like he does his thigh when he laughs too hard. “Your face was so priceless! Red as a stoplight.”
I put my hands over my cheeks, afraid they’re still glowing. “STOP! You’re so mean.”
He’s still laughing—shoulders shaking, stomach clenching. “I had no idea my nakedness would affect you so much. It’s not like you haven’t seen that image before. And it’s nothing compared to the rest of them from that spread.”
I give him a meaningful look, feeling like we’re tiptoeing toward something we shouldn’t but also desperately wanting to. “I…wouldn’t know.” I busy myself by trying to yank down the hem of my short dress to add some class to this setting.
When I look up, Nathan’s smile is curious. “What do you mean you wouldn’t know?”
I raise one shoulder. “I’ve never looked inside.”
“You haven’t?”
“Okay, well, you don’t need to sound so disbelieving. It’s true, some women can resist looking at nudey photos of you.” Just barely though.
“You haven’t even been the least bit curious?” His voice is doing something new. Something growly. Something that makes my stomach bunch and twist.
“No.” It’s a bald-faced lie. “Friends don’t see friends naked. It’s the most basic rule of humanity.”
Nathan’s long legs are sitting at 90 degree angles in front of him. Solid tree trunks taking root. He moves his arm to drape over the back of the couch, his fingertips ever-so-slightly brushing my shoulder as his other hand moves to rest on my ankle. His thumb moves up and down. Up and down. Up and down. But the most curious thing is the way his gaze shoots forward and he’s biting down on his lips.
“What?” I ask, feeling the earth shift beneath me. “What’s that face for?” I poke him in the cheek.
“Hmm? Nothing.”
“You’re the worst liar, Nathan. Seriously, I hope you never play poker or you’ll lose all your money. Spill it.”
His dark eyes slide to me. “You’ll wish I hadn’t if I tell you.”
My heart races. “Okay, well now you really have to tell me. In fact, I demand it.”
He lets out a deflating puff of air from his cheeks while rolling his head from side to side like he’s getting up the courage. “I’ve…I’ve seen you naked. There, I said it.”
For some reason, my natural instinct when hearing those words is to shoot to my feet and throw a couch pillow at him. “No you have not!”
Nathan’s laugh feels surreal. Like I’m dreaming. “I really have. It was an accident. You were getting out of the shower, and—whoa! Are you okay? Bree, sit down. You look like you’re going to pass out.”
I am. I am one hundred percent going to pass out. Nathan Donelson has seen me naked and I had no idea! This is not okay. What was I doing? Oh gosh, please tell me I wasn’t dancing or something horrible. Maybe this is why he’s never made a move on me. He saw me naked and felt nothing!
Nathan takes my arm and tugs me down beside him on the couch. And here’s the problem with this whole situation: He’s my best friend who I always turn to in situations like this, so even though he’s the one I’m embarrassed around, he’s also the one whose chest I bury my face in for comfort. His long arms engulf me and he secures me to him. I’m anchored. His cologne washes over me, and now I know this was a mistake. He’s not going to let me go.
“See, this is exactly why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d freak out, and I was afraid you’d take your key away from me.”
“Good idea. I want my key back!”
“Not a chance. Bree, we can be adults about this.”
“No we can’t! We’re not adults about anything—why would you expect that now? I’m so humiliated. Did you linger? Did you stare? How much of a look did you get? And…what…angle?” I don’t want to know any of this, but I’m also desperate to know. Like a train derailing. You can’t look away from something like that.
Nathan sort of growls, and I feel his head tilt back like he’s looking at the ceiling. “Okay. No, I didn’t linger, because I’m not a perv. And…it was sort of a 360-degree angle because you walked out of your bathroom and then…I don’t know, forgot something you needed in there and spun around to go back in.”
Well, let’s call it, folks. Bree Camden’s time of death: 10:30 PM. Died of humiliation overdose.
I groan and whimper in succession, burying my face harder into his chest. I will burrow in here and never come back out. Sure, I’ll be attached to him forever, but at least he’ll never get to look at me again.
His hand lightly strokes down the back of my hair. “I gotta say, I don’t take you for a walk-around-naked kind of a girl. You don’t even wear bikinis to the pool.”
“I was probably waiting for self-tanning lotion to dry.”
Nathan is quiet for so long I think he fell asleep. I peek up at him and see his glazed-over eyes star
ing into the distance. And then I realize what’s happening.
I clap loudly in front of his face. “Oh no you don’t! You don’t get to picture me naked!”
“Sorry.” He blinks, looking sheepish. “You mentioned the self-tanner and then…never mind.”
I clench my teeth. “This is completely unacceptable.”
His smile turns compassionate. “Bree, I’m so sorry. What can I do to make it better? Stop talking about it? Tell you what I thought when I saw you?”
“NO! HELL NO!” I push out of Nathan’s arms and stand. I’m pacing like a panther in a cage at the zoo. An idea immediately strikes me, and I don’t give it a second thought before blurting it out. “You can take off your clothes and even the score.”
Nathan blinks up at me. Stunned.
I mean, I get it. I didn’t expect myself to say that either. But it’s a solid idea! He got to see me naked in a less-than-favorable situation, and now I get to see him naked in the same sort of situation.
He swallows. “Or you could just go grab one of those magazines and finally take a look.”
“No.” I shake my head, a defiant toddler. “You’re perfectly lit in those, oiled, and—let’s be real—probably airbrushed. You’ll look like a god among men, and that’s not fair because you saw me in harsh light and bobbing around.”
He tries to stifle a smile. It makes me more angry. I do one quick up, up, up motion, telling him to get his smug ass off the couch. He groans, hangs his head down, and then slowly rises to his full height. Good gracious he’s like a tower. Jet black eyes meet mine from where he’s standing three feet away, and he arches his brow. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“It’s a great idea! Get to it.” My eyes probably look feral. Like a rabid squirrel you don’t want to run into at the park.
Nathan doesn’t blush like I hope. He doesn’t look insecure or scared about what I’m going to find under his clothes. He just begins unbuttoning his shirt. His hands are steady as he works, and my legs are shaking like those of a newly birthed fawn. With every undone button, I question my sanity in requesting this, but I don’t tell him to stop.
Three buttons down, and I see a triangle of tanned flesh. Four buttons. Five, and now there’s a slight sprinkle of hair.
He pauses with a teasing glint. “You want a cigar or something? Maybe put your feet up?”
“Shush. This is fair.” That’s the only reason I’m doing this. The only reason.
Nathan’s fingers reach the last button, and then he slides his shirt down off his shoulders and tosses it on the couch. I’ve seen him without his shirt so many times before, but this is…different. His shoulders are cut granite, and his collarbones are like two crowbars pressing against his golden velvety skin. Shadows paint around the ridges of his abs and obliques, making them look like stepping stones down to a perfectly tapered waist. His Adonis V disappears into nicely pressed suit pants held up by a matte black belt. He is muscles, tendons, veins, and aching handsomeness. Gorgeous in a way no human should be. Magnetic and electric at once. He draws me in and will electrocute me if I touch him.
Who was I freaking kidding? Lighting doesn’t matter one bit for a body like Nathan’s. He could be under sharp fluorescent doctor’s office lighting, and my tongue would still be lolling out the side of my mouth.
His black eyes flare as he undoes his belt, and now I’m feeling woozy. I didn’t think this through. What happens after he’s naked? My mind fills in that blank for me, and the sound of his belt sliding out of his pant loops sounds sharp to my ears. My pulse hammers in my neck, and I watch every detail of his sinewy flesh moving as he throws the belt next to his discarded shirt. I’m suddenly aware that I want this too much. That my hands are gripping the fabric of my dress. This is going to change everything, and I WANT that. I want Nathan like this. Not friendly. A little dangerous. A little taunting. A lot sexy.
I want to take a step closer and run my hands down his abdomen. Wrap my arms around his neck and let him hold me against his masculine form.
Nathan pauses with his hand on the button of his pants, and then when he flicks it open and I can see the band of his black briefs, reality crashes into me. He’s really going to do it. He’s going to get naked right here in the living room, enacting the fantasy of every woman in America (including me). The air around me is burning, and before he can make another move, I shoot my hands out in front of me.
“Stop!”
He freezes, eyes slicing up to me, lips parted in surprise and pecs flexing from how I startled him. He doesn’t say anything, and my breath comes out in a tremble. I shake my head. What was I thinking? I can’t do this. It would be jumping-out-of-a-plane-without-a-parachute-level life-changing.
I’ve got to backtrack.
“Kidding!” I blurt out like this was a gigantic prank the whole time. Ha-ha! You totally fell for it! I laugh and turn away from Nathan just so I can let out a big puff of air. I have 2.1 seconds to salvage this before it becomes weird for everyone. I let this night get the best of me and am starting to lose sight of the plan.
Stay strong, Bree. You’re dazzled by the fake relationship.
With my back to Nathan, I mentally repeat my secret rules for a successful friendship.
1. Keep those feelings wrapped up like an egg salad at a church potluck—they’re not actually good for anyone.
2. Nathan is a natural-born flirt. Don’t embarrass yourself by misinterpreting his personality for flirting.
3. Don’t look at his bare skin or you will burn alive.
I halfway broke that last rule, and I’ll suffer the consequences from now on. I gather all of these feelings buzzing around my body like a hornet’s nest and put them in a jar. I screw on the lid. Seal it with Lock Tight just to be certain no stragglers get away. And then I turn around. Oh my gosh, I need to hold my hand in front of me so I can’t see his body.
“So…kidding?” he asks, and the boyish uncertainty on his face nearly kills me.
“Yeah!” I laugh a little too loud. “Oh my gosh, no way would I actually let you get those pants off. I don’t need to see all that. Just wanted to mess with you and see how far you’d go.”
“Pretty far,” he says with an amused tick of his lips. It makes my stomach turn inside out like a reversible jacket.
I stare one more moment at all that he is and then clear my throat and head for the door like a woman who still has all of her faculties intact. I need to start carrying around smelling salts.
“Okay, well this has been fun! But whew, look at the time. I’ve got to be up early in the morning to bake cookies for the week! Early bird catches the worm!”
“Bree?” Nathan asks with a drawn-out amused tone. “Are you okay over there?”
I stop just briefly to flash gloriously wide eyes at him. HOLY MOLY his body…it’s sculpted clay—soft, taut lines cut over every muscle to perfection. “Moi?” My hand covers my heart. “So okay! Why do you ask?”
I’m now performing the flight of the bumblebee, buzzing around the room and collecting my things. Shoes. WHERE ARE MY SHOES?! I turn three circles and look like I’m chasing my tail.
Suddenly, Nathan’s big hand covers my shoulder. I drop away from his touch like I’m in The Matrix avoiding bullets. He looks completely shocked as he silently holds my heels out to me. “Well, glad you’re okay.” His tone conveys that I’m fooling absolutely no one.
I take my heels and quickly slip one on while hopping on one foot. Nathan’s hand shoots out to wrap around my forearm to steady me. I want to whimper/cry/laugh because I feel extra sensitive to his touch. Once my heels are on, I start wobbling away. Wobbling because I have put my heels on the wrong feet. I’m a little girl who snuck into her mom’s closet and tried to sneak off with her best heels. No time to stop and fix them though. I gotta get out of here.
“It’s been so nice to see you as always, bestie!” That was a strange thing to say. “Good luck with the game this weekend! I’ll call you to—”
I feel his hand slide into mine and he tugs me back. I yelp as Nathan spins me around, a dangerous playful glint in his eyes. “Just a minute, bestie.”
I hold my breath, only three—maybe four—inches from his bare chest. My palms ache to flatten against his pecs. But then his chest disappears from view as Nathan drops down to one knee. OH MY GOSH IS HE PROPO—
His hand wraps around my ankle and lifts it slightly off the ground. Then my heel gets slipped off—the tale of Cinderella played backward. “You’ll sprain your ankle like this.” He lowers my bare foot to the ground then lifts the other ankle. That heel gets peeled off, and then the correct one gets slipped on. This time his hand lightly taps the back of my calf, signaling for me to lift my other foot again—and if you’re guessing I’m deceased at this point, you’re right.
Nathan finishes putting my heels on the correct feet, and I notice something odd before he stands back up—he stares at my legs for two breaths. In those two breaths, WILD ideas I have no business imagining race through my head. He looks down again and then stands, but by the time he rises to his full height, I’m already turned toward the door and racing out, promising him I’ll call tomorrow, and maybe also that I’ll bake him a cake? I don’t know what that was about, but clearly my ovaries feel like they owe him something.
I move like a zombie all the way down to the lobby. My eyes are unfocused, and I’m sure the lady working the front desk assumes I’m on something. My heels echo loudly across the empty expansive lobby, and I’m aware of every sound. Like maybe when I look back on this day, that will be the thing I remember most—the sharp clicks.
I’m not letting myself think about what happened back in that apartment yet. I absolutely will not poke it, or prod it, or dissect in any way. Instead, I’m floating out of the main entrance’s sliding doors. Chilly air-conditioning collides with a balmy ocean breeze, and I’m still floating. Choosing to hyper-focus on how I feel and what I see just so I don’t let my thoughts tiptoe back to that moment upstairs.
