The Real Thing

by Cassie Mae

  I try to read her body language to make sure my hand won’t get smacked as I run it up her thigh until reaching the material on her night shorts. I break from her lips for a moment to breathe. It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone like this, and the last time I did, I was told I did it wrong.

  But I don’t think I ever really have touched someone like this. Because it sure as hell feels different.

  Em catches her breath with me. She smells like coconut—and tomato juice, to be honest, but more like coconut. I move my hand back down to her knee and my lips meet hers again. I adjust without thinking, half on top of her. And for once while I’m kissing a girl I don’t think about my weight crushing her body. I hold myself on my forearms and move from Em’s gorgeous mouth to her neck, down along her jaw to her chin, then back up. She seems to like that, going by her subtle moans and satisfied smiles.

  I’m tempted to continue my exploration, heart rate pulsing in my neck. I’m doing this without any panic attacks—but Ali pushes at the edge of my thoughts.

  “You’re doing it wrong, Eric.”

  It’s only for a second, but it’s enough to make me pause at the hollow of Em’s neck, and instead of moving my lips down, I travel back up.

  I gotta take it slow.

  So I keep in the comfort zone of her neck and cheeks and lips, and with Em’s response drowning out my brief flashes of doubt, I enjoy every other damn moment of it.

  * * *

  Something’s rumbling the room. Every two or three minutes it blasts through my sleep and makes me think we’re in the midst of an earthquake, even though Florida isn’t really notorious for those.

  “Em, get in the doorway.”

  She laughs next to me, and I feel a small kiss on the bottom of my chin. “Any reason why?”

  “Earthquake,” I mumble, then sort of drift in and out of semisleep.

  “Eric, wake up.” A shove to my shoulder pushes me to the edge of the bed, and I feel a lurch in my stomach that says I’m about to fall on my ass, right before I yank myself into a sitting position.

  “Good morning,” Em says as I rub my eyes. Her laptop is propped against her legs, and she tilts the lid down enough to look at me. She’s wearing her glasses, hair a mess, half in, half out of a ponytail, and her tank-top straps are falling off her shoulders. I run a hand over my face and adjust the blanket on my lap because it’s not enough that it’s morning, but seeing Em like this is the sexiest thing I’ve ever woken up to.

  “Hey.” Seriously, that’s the first thing I say to my girlfriend after the night we just had? Damn, I better make up for it, but as soon as I decide to make a move, she tilts the screen back up and starts typing. There’s a hint of a smile on her lips, and I can see Facebook chat windows reflected in her glasses.

  “Who you talking to?” I ask, then wonder if I’m allowed to be curious. Last time she dodged the question.

  “A friend. He said last year he hit a skunk and didn’t tell anyone, but he parked his car in the garage and closed it up overnight. The whole house woke up to the smell.”

  Several things stand out to me in that sentence, but the biggest one is “he.” It shouldn’t bother me. Em had several guy friends growing up. Hell, I was one of them.

  But it does bother me.

  “You told him about getting sprayed?”

  “Posted it on my wall. Along with this.” She swivels the laptop to face me, and I look for the chat windows, but she’s closed them all.

  “Do you see it?” she asks, and I force my eyes away from all the guys on her chat list to her wall.

  Emilia Johnson is in a relationship with Eric Matua.

  There’s a big blue heart over the top, along with several pictures of the two of us. Most are from my heavy years, but there’s one she must’ve taken last night after I fell asleep. She’s giving me a mustache with her finger and kissing my forehead. I’m zonked out.

  “Yeah, you better delete those pictures.”

  The laptop’s pulled from my reach, and she’s laughing as she closes it tight and hides it between the bed and the wall.

  “Never!” she squeals as I crash-land on top of her. Her breath comes out in an “oomph!” and my heart thunders in my chest, hard enough that I immediately regret squishing her to death. I go to scramble off her, but she grabs hold of my neck and kisses me.

  We took things slow last night. Slow enough that I didn’t worry about my anxiety. But right now my dick is hard and I’m not sure where to put my hands or if I need to press into her or if I need to use my tongue. My head won’t stop, and I’m worried as hell that I’ll make a move that’ll disappoint her or hurt her or make her uncomfortable. So I pull back and lean up to hear whatever that damn rumbling noise is.

  “You okay?” she asks behind my back, sitting up and planting a kiss on my shoulder. That small kiss has the same effect as the one I just broke off and I’m wondering what the hell she’s doing to me.

  “Um, yeah. Your phone’s just been going off.”

  “It’s just notifications and emails.”

  “Still no word?”

  She shakes her head, pressing her nose between my shoulder blades. “And I feel like absolute shit, because the last twenty-four hours should’ve been scary as hell. I should’ve been a complete wreck. But it’s been … well, it’s been an amazing twenty-four hours.” Her breath warms me through my T-shirt. “Is it bad to feel happiness even when … I mean, he could be …”

  “He’s not.” I turn to catch her chin. This stuff I can do. I can comfort her and be a friend. “He’ll be okay. I’ll give the coast guard a call if you want.”

  Her cell vibrates.

  “Thank you,” she says, reaching over me to the phone. Her fingers leave fiery trails on my skin when she slides it into my palm.

  I nod, take a deep breath, and press a kiss to the tip of her nose, lingering near her face for a second before pecking her lips once, twice, a third time … then I pull back before my head starts running again.

  “I’ll just be a minute.” I ease myself from the bed, maneuvering out of the room so she doesn’t see this damn hard-on.

  When I get to the living room, I tap the phone on, slumping into the cushions. The coast guard is saved under her contacts, but before I hit the Call button another bubble pops up in the corner of the screen. It’s that same guy from yesterday that messaged about fifty times.

  I look over my shoulder at the empty hallway. I could look at it real fast. It’s driving me crazy, that particular bubble popping up so often; I just want to know if it’s something I should worry about.

  But I hover over the circle and stop myself. Only hours into our more-than-friends status and I’m getting paranoid. This guy must know she’s in a relationship with me. She posted it all over Facebook already.

  And I should trust Em, because she’s really given me no reason not to.

  I get up off the couch, pressing the call button as I head to my room. The phone is still ringing when I pop a pill from the bottle I keep hidden in my drawer.

  The second I’m done with the coast guard, I’m making an appointment with Dr. Shuman.

  Chapter 13

  Emilia Johnson posted a picture on Eric Matua’s timeline.

  2 hours ago

  We need more pictures of you.

  33 people like this

  * * *

  I must’ve dozed off while Eric was getting ready, because I don’t even hear him in my room till he sets my phone on the nightstand.

  “Hey, I gotta head to work.”

  “Anything from the coast guard?” I ask, leaning up from the pillows. He smells like his shampoo, and I’m hoping that signs of our skunk escapade came off of me as well.

  “No. But they haven’t had any reports of ship wreckage, so that’s a good sign.”

  “Yeah.” I know he’s trying to make me feel better, but it’s not really working. Now I’m thinking scenarios with pirate kidnappings. I never should’ve seen that Tom Hanks
movie.

  He runs a thumb over my knuckles. Wait a minute … is he shaking?

  “Try not to worry today. Do something to keep your mind off it.”

  “Like what?”

  His thumb runs over the back of my hand, and yeah, he’s definitely shaking. I try to catch his gaze but he’s avoiding eye contact.

  “Well, uh … do you work today?” he asks.

  “Nope.”

  “Can I, well, I wanted to …” He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck while his breathing grows labored. It’s adorable as hell, and I smile for the first time since he last left the room.

  “Your face is getting red.” I poke his cheek. “You wanted to what?”

  His head falls. “It’s gonna come out so damn lame,” he says to his lap, “but I wanted to ask you out.”

  I laugh, sitting up and swinging my arms around his neck. My nails scratch against his blue scrubs. “That’s not lame.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “It might just be me and you streaming stuff from Amazon while eating takeout—”

  “Still a yes.”

  “Payday isn’t till Friday, but I wanted to do something before then—”

  “It sounds fantastic.”

  “And that’ll help take your mind off things, right?”

  “I think so.”

  “All right.” He pats my leg, which I think is pretty weird because I’m basically draped over him. I drop my arms, not sure what to do with them now. He studies my hand for a moment before weaving his fingers between mine. His palm is moist. “I’ll be back around seven thirty,” he says.

  My brow furrows, and I look over my shoulder to the alarm clock. “Do you have a long shift today?”

  “I have a doctor’s appointment right after work.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yep.” He smiles like it really is okay, but his face is still red, and his dark eyes are on our hands. “Em … can I … uh … can I kiss you?”

  I smile and grab his face, pulling him to me. His response is shock again, but after a few beats he gets into a rhythm I absolutely crave. Every time I see him, I’m going to want to kiss him like this. Hope he’s okay with that, since we live together. I’ll have to stock up on ChapStick.

  His shaking hands move to my waist, and I get to my knees to close the distance between our bodies. “You never have to ask to kiss me,” I say, breaking away. I wait for him to pull me back, but he doesn’t. We breathe into each other, his body shaking against me. I want him to relax—to know this is all okay and what I want, and hell … I’m ready for a lot more, so I crush my mouth to his again, swiping my tongue over the seam of his lips.

  “I—I gotta go,” he blurts out. He jumps off the bed so fast I nearly topple off with him. “Uh, keep your mind busy today, and let me know if you hear anything.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask as he runs into the doorframe.

  “Yeah, I’m just … I’m late. So, yeah, gotta run.”

  He does this half-tilted smile thing at me then he turns down the hallway.

  “Have a good day!” I call after him. He mumbles something back, but I don’t catch it. The second I hear the front door close, I pull out my phone and IM Eve, because seriously, what the hell was all that about?

  Mia: You have a minute?

  Eve: Yep. Paul’s out. I needed spicy chicken.

  I guess she’s still trying to induce labor in whatever way she can.

  Mia: Did you see my FB update?

  Eve: About you and the “not high school sweetheart”? Yes! And he’s absolutely adorable.

  Mia: I know, right? And he wants me to delete that picture.

  Eve: Well, he is sleeping. It’s a cute sleep, but I see his point.

  Mia: Yeah … he doesn’t seem to want to be … I don’t know …

  Eve: ?

  Mia: Can we Skype?

  Eve: Let me put on a shirt.

  I laugh, swapping my phone for my laptop, which is still stuck between the bed and the wall. I look like crap, but it’s just Eve. She’s seen me sick, cutesied up, and everything in between. And I don’t look nearly as bad as I normally do in the morning, since I snuck on some makeup and redid my ponytail before Eric woke up next to me.

  My Skype goes off, and I click answer and wait for Eve’s face to pop up. I laugh as I see a blanket wrapped over her boobs.

  “That’s not a shirt.”

  She shrugs. “Doctor said bed rest, and my dresser is all the way over there.” She points offscreen and pretend pouts.

  “Almost there, babe,” I assure her, like I do every time we talk nowadays.

  “I know.” The blanket slips a little, and she adjusts it. “So, what’s going on?”

  That’s a loaded question. Where do I even start? I kissed my best friend and we took our relationship to the next level, but something was off this morning and maybe he’s second-guessing it, and Eric’s too nice of a person to tell me he’s just not feeling it. Or maybe it has nothing to do with me, I have no clue. But I’m trying not to think about my dad, trying not to overanalyze Eric’s weirdness, but that’s all my mind is doing.

  I drop my head, staring at the keyboard. “My boyfriend’s acting weird.”

  “Weird how?”

  “He seemed nervous or something this morning. Like he couldn’t quite figure out how to touch me or how to talk to me.” I bite down on my bottom lip. “I don’t want things to be strange like this.”

  “Give him a break. He probably is nervous.”

  “Do you think he regrets it?” Because he sure as hell is acting that way.

  “Stop it. When Paul and I first kissed, he wasn’t smooth for an entire week after.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” She adjusts her blanket again, but I think she’s just trying to get the baby to change positions, the way her hands wrap around her belly. “I think moving from friends to lovers takes a little bit of working out in their heads. Think about it. He’s probably wanted to kiss you and touch you for years, but he hasn’t because of that line. Now the line’s gone and he’s on autopilot or something. Doesn’t want to freak you out.”

  “Maybe.” That actually sounded pretty reasonable. But I want to show him that line is totally gone now. “What do you think I should do? I want him just to freaking relax. Pretty sure whatever he wants to do with me I’m ready for.”

  “Oh! I read this article the other day on ways to seduce your man. Let me pull it up.” She moves her finger around on the touchpad, and I click over to Twitter while I wait. I’ve gotten twenty favorites on that moment when your #bestbud becomes your #boyfriend.

  “Okay, I just emailed it to you,” Eve says, and I click to my Yahoo. “I’d definitely do number seven.”

  It takes a second to download the doc, and when it opens I scroll right to the blue 7.

  Show off your body by giving it a good wax.

  “Wax?”

  “Smooth legs are a turn-on, baby.”

  I run my hand over my leg, cringing at the slight prickles. Oh my gosh, Eric was totally rubbing my leg last night. Mortifying! “Okay, yeah. It’s been a day or two. I can give them a big old wax today.”

  “You might want to pick up some other stuff, too.” She waggles her eyebrows and gestures to her crotch.

  I stifle a laugh. I’ve got an IUD, so I’m covered on the birth control. But as far as other things … I don’t know Eric’s sexual history at all. I assume Ali, but between then and now … no dang clue. I’ve been with two people, who were both clean so I’m good, but …

  “Crap.” I twist the end of my ponytail. “I’ve never bought condoms before. I’m not even sure what to get.”

  “You’ve never bought condoms?”

  “No. Jaxon always had them stocked up, and Kyle and I … well, we had other birth control.”

  “You didn’t double up for safety reasons?”

  “We were both virgins.”

&
nbsp; “Well, just get a couple different kinds. You’ll be fine.”

  “Do you think we’ll even need them soon? I mean … Eric said he wanted to go slow.”

  She snorts. “Paul said that, too. I was naked in his bed the next day.”

  “Oh, I remember.”

  She starts laughing again, and her face pinches as she grabs her abdomen. My smile falls slightly because I’m not too sure why she’s on bed rest, and I worry about her.

  “You okay?” I ask as she flinches once more.

  “I think he’s digging an elbow into my rib.”

  “Tell him to knock that off.”

  She runs a hand over her stomach. “Just means he’s running out of room in there. Maybe he’ll get the hint and come out.”

  I open my mouth to tell her again that she’s almost done, but a loud “Whoop!” from her side of the screen cuts me off. Eve squeals as she leans over her computer, giving me a perfect shot of her blanket covered boobs before she lands back on her butt, now holding a big takeout container.

  “Come on, spicy chicken,” she says as she pops the top. “Give Momma labor.”

  Paul’s head sneaks into the shot to plant a kiss on Eve’s cheek. He gives me a small wave before he disappears.

  “I’ll let you eat. Thanks for chatting, babe.”

  “Let me know how it goes.”

  She blows me a chicken-filled kiss and hangs up. When I click off Skype I notice new messages in Facebook from Scott. I really should get out and prepare myself for this date tonight, but I find myself reading his message.

  Scott: Well, Mia number 4 … not my Mia.

  Mia: Sorry :( Have you not tried any of her friends?

  Scott: First route I went with. No one wants to talk to me.

  Mia: You’ll find her. Just keep looking.

  Scott: Do you believe in fate? That shit like this happens because it’s supposed to?