Better Than Okay

by Jacinta Howard

  His eyes dropped to her lips when he said that and she felt her face flush. She shifted slightly, her breath coming a bit faster when she saw the playfulness slowly leaving his eyes. She watched the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing increased.

  His eyes were penetrating and dark and she couldn’t move away. She didn’t know if she wanted to, and that scared her. There was no alcohol this time. She knew exactly what she was doing. He ran his hands up her arms to her shoulders then back down and pulled her toward him. He pressed his forehead to hers, hesitating.

  “Destiny,” he murmured deeply, his eyes conflicted.

  The ache and hunger in his voice caused her heart to beat violently in her chest. She was breathing audibly now. She couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen into her lungs. She could feel his breath warm against her mouth, his warm, clean scent filling her, making her lightheaded.

  His thumb traced the inside of her palm, feather light and heat spread traitorously through her body. But she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t move. He was going to kiss her again and she couldn’t move.

  She inhaled and her lips parted. Whatever internal battle he was fighting was lost and he suddenly pulled her closer, finally lifting his head to touch his mouth to hers. Her entire world shattered in that second, only to be put together again as his lips moved over hers, hungry, hot.

  It only took a few seconds for her to respond. She wasn’t really thinking anymore. Her thoughts were cloudy and the only thing that was clear was how good he felt. Without any conscious thought about why she was doing what she was doing, she reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him more firmly against her mouth. She’d kissed him while she was intoxicated but this was so much better, more real, more intense, more everything.

  He ran his hand restlessly up her ribcage, and back down to her hips, his mouth never leaving hers as he kissed her intently, his tongue probing, seeking hers. The kiss was slow and deliberate, and arousing as hell.

  He pulled back slightly but only to drop hot kisses on the corners of her mouth, her chin, her jaw. She sucked in a breath and tilted her head back, allowing him better access to her neck as he kissed her there, trailing kisses back up her jawline.

  They were still on their knees as he pulled at her waist, his hands pushing under her tank top as he drew light circles on her abdomen with his thumbs. His hands were rough, but his touch was light and she heard a soft moan escape her when he nipped her neck then traced the mark with his tongue. Oh God. This was getting out of control. She willed herself to open her eyes.

  “Brian, we…” she managed to whisper.

  But she closed her eyes again and forgot whatever she was going to say when his hand inched up further, his thumbs skimming the underside of her bra. He trailed his fingers back down, returning his attention to her mouth, plucking soft kisses from her lips as if he was drinking her in. She couldn’t take his teasing anymore and she pressed her lips fully to his, intensifying the kiss the way her body needed her to. He inhaled sharply and sat back then pulling her with him so that she was straddling his hips.

  She heard the noises that were escaping her echoing in the back of her mind, but they were foreign to her. She’d never felt anything like this. Ever. Like she had no control over her limbs, or thoughts. He ran his hand to the strap of her tank top and pushed it down over her shoulder, trailing his lips along her collarbone, pulling at her hips. He wanted her closer and she wanted to be closer. She pressed herself into him, her fingers skimming the back of his neck as he kissed and licked the base of her throat. Her entire body was throbbing. He found her mouth again, kissing her more intensely than he had before.

  Then the front door slammed.

  “Yo, they were out of Guinness so I got some Newcastle,” Dorian yelled from the living room.

  Her eyes flew open and she scrambled to get off of him, falling onto her back in the process. She rolled over and sat up, frantically straightening her shirt.

  “Alright,” Brian yelled. His voice was steady, but his chest was still heaving in and out.

  The TV clicked on in the living room and she heard Dorian on the phone laughing. Destiny looked at Brian, her breath still coming in clipped spurts as she tried to calm herself. He stood up and paced to the far edge of the room away from her, his own breathing labored as he ran a hand over his head. She felt panic rising in her chest and her stomach clenched. What the hell had just happened? What had she just done?

  She looked at him again, knowing her horror was all over her face. His expression was dark and intense again, although he seemed to have more control over his respiratory system than she did. She had just kissed Brian. Again. Her stomach clenched again and she rubbed it, scooting so that her back was against the wall near where she’d pushed the empty box she was unpacking before she’d lost her ever-loving mind and any sense of control.

  “Are you okay?” he asked finally, eyeing her hand on her stomach.

  She stared at him. Was she okay? No. No she most certainly was not okay. She wasn’t even remotely close to being okay.

  “No,” she hissed, shaking her head wildly. “We just… this… ”

  She couldn’t even get a coherent sentence out. He was just standing there, calmly, and she couldn’t even talk. He studied her, waiting for her to speak, she guessed.

  “Brian, we just kissed… again,” she said, keeping her voice low so that Dorian wouldn’t come back to the room and find out his only cousin had turned into a slut.

  Saying it out loud somehow made it more real and another wave of panic washed over her.

  “We did a little more than kiss,” he said deliberately, watching her continue to rub her stomach.

  She looked at him, her stomach tightening in desire at the very recent memory of what “a little more than kissing” entailed. She was confused. And embarrassed. And honestly, still aroused. Which confused her even more.

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen this way,” he said finally, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He ran a hand over his head again.

  What did that mean?

  “I’m sorry,” she offered, biting her lip.

  Now everything was ruined. She stared at him wondering how the hell she was going to be around him ever again in life.

  “Why are you sorry?” he asked, staring at her.

  She wrinkled her face, her confusion increasing.

  “For doing… that, or this…” she said waving a hand between them. “I mean. We weren’t thinking straight. You’re tired. And probably like, jet-lagged or driving-lagged or something. And I’m stressed and tired and… we weren’t thinking. I wasn’t thinking. And last time we were both drunk and the city had a vibe and we were caught up in the moment… and yeah… just, I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes were trained on her hands the entire time she was talking and she drew in a breath and finally looked up at him. She flinched at the anger she saw there.

  “I didn’t kiss you because I’m tired, Destiny,” he practically snapped, his voice low. “Or because of a damn ‘vibe’.”

  He released a breath and ran a hand over his head again, diverting his eyes to the floor as he shook his head. He looked back up, his expression a bit calmer but just as serious.

  “I knew this wasn’t going to work.”

  His eyes traveled over her face. She felt it like a touch and she bit her lip, struggling to get herself in check. She felt like crying. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. She shook her head as if she was trying to physically reject the situation she’d got herself into. He sighed and ran a hand over his head again.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  “Stop apologizing,” he said forcefully. He shook his head, standing and pacing to the other side of the room.

  She blinked, surprised again at his anger. She didn’t understand why he was so mad at her. She stood up suddenly, bracing herself with her palms on the wall behind her. She needed to leave. Now. The tension between them was so thick she
could barely breathe and she felt like she was going to be sick.

  “I need to go,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes.

  She was scared of what she might see there.

  “We need to talk about what’s going on with us, Destiny.”

  She shook her head, still refusing to look at him. She turned and practically ran from the room, ignoring him when he called her name.

  “Hey, I’m gonna go, I’m not feeling very well,” she told Dorian as she entered the living room, searching around for her bag. She found it on the couch between two pillows and quickly grabbed it, slinging it over her arm.

  “What’s up?” Dorian asked her, frowning.

  “I just… I’m a little nauseous,” she explained quickly. “I’m gonna go lay down.”

  She met his eyes then looked away again. She was a terrible liar and everything she ever felt always ended up on her face. If anyone could see right through her, it was Dorian. He eyed her, then looked back towards Brian’s bedroom.

  “Call me and let me know you got home,” he told her after a long minute.

  He picked at the skin on his cuticles, still studying her contemplatively.

  “Okay,” she said, her hand already on the doorknob.

  She was glad he wasn’t going to press her tonight. She looked back toward Brian’s room then stepped out the door.

  Chapter 6

  Two days. She hadn’t talked to him in two days and she missed him. But she still couldn’t bring herself to talk to him. She stared blankly at her computer screen. She was supposed to be transcribing an interview she’d done with a new R&B group she’d interviewed a couple of days ago, but she couldn’t concentrate. It didn’t help that the group was mediocre at best, but somehow believed they were God’s solution to soul music. Listening to them drone on and on, spouting clichés about their vision and originality was slowly draining whatever life she had left in her.

  She tossed her recorder onto her cluttered desk and leaned back in her chair, sighing. She’d really screwed up. Brian was one of her best friends. One of only two guys in her life that she actually trusted. And now things were so weird between them, she couldn’t even talk to him.

  She was ignoring his phone calls and texts. She felt stupid and immature for doing it, just like she felt stupid for running out of his room like a petulant twelve year-old, but she didn’t know what to say. What could she say? The first time was maybe excusable. They were both drinking, they were in a different city, and the music was intoxicating. But this time they were completely sober. And the fact that it’d happened again, under any circumstances meant something. She pushed her chair back and stood, then went and plopped on her unmade bed, studying the ceiling.

  Her phone rang and she reluctantly got up and grabbed it off of her desk. It was Brian. Again. This was easily the fifth time he’d called her in the past day and a half and it was easily the fifth time she’d ignored him. Her phone started vibrating in her hand as she sat there staring at it.

  “Destiny. Call me.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to respond to his message. Just looking at it made her ache and she tossed the phone on her bed, and lay down because she didn’t know what else to do. She rolled onto her side and stared at the wall.

  She always tried to be honest with herself, always tried to analyze her actions. Her mom thought she did it to a fault but she never wanted to be one of those people who shucked responsibility and made stupid-ass decisions under the guise of “finding themselves.”

  So, yesterday at lunch while she sat in Marsita’s, half-listening to Nathan and Dorian argue about whether the Phoenix Sun’s defense was better than the Miami Heats’, she’d finally admitted it to herself. She was attracted to Brian. She couldn’t even think about him without her face heating, without remembering in detail what his hands felt like on her body, and what his stubble felt like against her skin.

  Honestly, she was very attracted to him. That was the only logical explanation for her reaction to him. And Brian was attracted to her, too.

  She didn’t know when or how their friendship had transformed into more. Obviously it was around the time she’d been hoodwinked into drinking that damn deceptive daiquiri in New Orleans. Either way, it was there now, looming, hanging between them like thick fog before a storm. Because that’s exactly what it would be if their attraction went any further—a shit storm. Attraction turned into feelings and feelings turned into relationships and relationships inevitably turned into shit. And who enjoys being in shit? No one. Not even babies.

  Her phone buzzed again.

  “If Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne had an arm wrestling contest who would win? I personally think Peter Parker would interrupt and kick both of their asses.”

  What the hell? Destiny frowned, reread the message then laughed. She hit the dial button.

  “Ray, you gotta get back on Twitter, or Instagram, or SnapChat or whatever form of social media is acceptable right now because I can’t take anymore of these crazy texts,” Destiny said the second Raven picked up.

  Raven was going through social media withdrawal and had decided about two weeks ago that whenever she wanted to post anything, she would text Destiny instead. So now her inbox was bursting with random pictures of Raven’s pedicures and food, subliminal messages aimed at her on and off boyfriend Mark.

  “Grasshopper, you know I can never, ever go back to the Matrix under any circumstances,” she replied with an exaggerated sigh. “What would my kids say?”

  Like most teachers who were in the classroom for more than the check and summer vacations, she referred to the seventh graders she taught as her “kids.”

  “Probably that you’re unstable,” Destiny said wryly, pressing the speaker button so that she could talk to her without holding the phone. She laid it next to her cheek and stared at the ceiling again.

  “That is correct, which is why I shan’t ever return to the land of social media and all of its self-indulging, exhibitionist, narcissistic, passive-aggressive glory,” she announced in a terrible British accent.

  Destiny laughed. “You’re so strange.”

  “True story,” Raven replied, unfazed. “So do you have all of our summer fun mapped out?”

  “Yep,” Destiny lied. She had no idea what they were going to do, honestly. But she was never worried about it. Raven was always game for pretty much anything.

  “Fabulous,” she said easily, mostly because she probably knew she was lying. “So, what’s up with you? You sound like you swallowed a pitiful pill.”

  Destiny sighed audibly. “I did something terrible.”

  “Yeah, right.” Destiny could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

  “Seriously, Raven,” she said earnestly. She sat up and leaned against the headboard.

  “What happened?” She sounded concerned now.

  Destiny hesitated, not sure how to tell her that she’d basically ruined her relationship with Brian. Raven knew him pretty well from his regular trips to Tallahassee when they were all in school together. Raven and Brian immediately clicked.

  “Me and Brian…”

  “Had sex?” she interrupted wildly.

  “Um, no,” Destiny said, frowning at the phone.

  “Okay, sorry, I sometimes forget how precious you are, Grasshopper,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “Made sweet, passionate love?! He finally de-flowered you?”

  “No!” Destiny interjected, her cheeks heating. “We just kissed… and stuff.”

  “Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Well at least you kissed. It’s about freakin’ time. I was hoping something was going to happen in New Orleans.”

  “Actually…”

  “What!?” she exclaimed into the phone.

  “We just kissed then, too, Ray,” she said dryly, rolling her eyes.

  Raven was one of the many people who had trouble believing that her and Brian had never crossed the line of friendship. She said he was way too fine to be around so often and not
have slipped up even once.

  “This is so terrible.” She felt dread settling over her again.

  “Oh God, Destiny. You’ve got to stop being all unnecessarily dramatic.”

  “You’re seriously calling me dramatic?” she snorted.

  “It’s not terrible, Grasshopper,” she continued, ignoring her. “It’s great. He’s great. You’re great. Ya’ll are great together.”

  “Brian is my friend,” she countered, shaking her head.

  “Yes, and how cool would it be for you to end up with your other best friend?” Raven said, unable to hide her excitement. “What did he say? Like, what happened after you… kissed?”

  Destiny hesitated, biting her lip.

  “The first time we were both kind of drunk so we just kind of played it off. This time he didn’t say much of anything. Just that he didn’t mean for it to ‘happen like that’ or something. You know him. He’s always so hard to read. And then I kinda… well, I just left.”

  Raven huffed loudly. “So, you haven’t even talked to him about it?”

  “No, not really.” Destiny shook her head. “Actually, not at all, honestly. He wanted to but I just… I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Raven asked in a way that made Destiny feel even more immature.

  She frowned. “I’m just...”

  “Scared?” Raven inserted for her.

  Destiny sighed. “We both know that things fall apart.”

  She winced and quickly shut her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that. Raven had just broken up with her on and off again boyfriend of three years less than a month ago. This time for good, she hoped. Mark was an asshole of epic proportions and used every unwarranted chance Raven gave him to prove it.

  “Things do fall apart,” Raven agreed after a long minute. “But not everything.”

  “Name one couple that’s been together for more than two years that is actually happy.” Destiny didn’t wait for an answer before she continued. “Better yet, name one married couple that isn’t absolutely miserable.”

  She waited a beat. “That’s what I’m saying,” she sat up, running her fingers over the flower patterns on her yellow and purple comforter. “I mean I know that some couples make it. But the odds are like one out of every two thousand or something. If me and Brian act on whatever this thing is I can lose him. Forever. And I can’t handle that.”