by Lauren Rowe
She whimpers. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, baby. Come on.”
“It’s a big one.” Her eyes darken.
“Yeah, baby. Let it go.” Our bodies have picked up speed. Sweat is beading on her face. Her cheeks are flushed. My fingers are working her hard clit furiously. This is so fucking good, I’m about to blow.
“I missed you so much, babe,” I whisper in her ear, my gaze never leaving hers in the mirror. “Had to come see you early, I missed you so fucking bad.”
Her eyes flutter and roll back into her head briefly. She lets out a loud groan and I clamp my free hand over her mouth.
“Let it go, baby,” I purr into her ear, gyrating into her, fingering her like I own her. I lick her neck, nibble her ear. “Let it go for me.”
Her entire body heaves and jolts and spasms. She arches her back, a pained sound pooling in her throat. I clamp my hand over her mouth again, trying to muffle the sounds coming out of her.
“Yeah, baby,” I whisper into her ear. “Here we go.”
She bites my finger. “Fuck. Oh, Josh. Oh my God.”
She buckles, almost like she’s dry heaving, and then every bit of warm, wet flesh surrounding my cock suddenly squeezes and clenches around me, like a glorious dam breaking. It feels so good, I release into her like a tsunami, slamming myself into her as I do.
The minute I’ve got my equilibrium back, I turn her around, grab her face and kiss her deeply. “I missed you, baby,” I say. “I couldn’t wait ’til Saturday to see you.”
She kisses my lips, cheeks, neck. “I’ve been going crazy all week. It’s been torture.”
I wrap my arms around her, bury my nose in her hair, and inhale. “I wish I could bottle this smell so I could sniff it whenever I’m lonely in L.A.”
“Bumble and Bumble Crème de Coco Shampoo and Conditioner,” she says. “Seventeen ninety-nine per bottle.”
I laugh.
I pull back from our embrace and zip up. “Okay ‘slut who ditches her boring date at a bar to fuck the hot bartender in the bathroom.’ What happens next? I do believe you’re supposed to slip out of the bathroom, rejoin your boring date, and never look back, right?”
Kat shrugs. “Yeah, that’s what the script says.” She tilts her head. “But there’s no fucking way I’m letting you go back in there and serve that bitch another drink.”
I laugh. “So I take it we’re changing the script?” I say.
“Damn straight we are,” she says.
I smirk. “How ’bout this? What if the bartender goes out there and quits his job because he can’t stand the thought of you leaving here to fuck that other guy? And what if he does it right in front of the woman who was hitting on him all night?”
Her face lights up. “Oh, I like that ending to the porno a whole lot better.”
“Yeah, except now it’s not a porno—it’s a fucking rom-com.”
She smiles. “When Josh Met Kat.”
I return her smile. “So, hey, I should tell you. Jonas and I are waking up at chicken-thirty tomorrow morning to go climbing for the day. I’ll take you home, see your place—but then I’m gonna stay at Jonas’ tonight since we’re heading out before sunrise, okay?”
“That’s cool with me. I’ve got to work tomorrow, anyway.”
“When are you gonna quit your job already, you puss? I told you I’ll help you.”
She makes a face.
“What are you waiting for, PG?”
She considers for a beat and then nods decisively. “You know what? You’re right. Fuck it. I’ll quit tomorrow.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. YOLO, right?”
“Damn straight.”
“Starting my own business can’t be that hard, right? I’m smart. I can do it. If I fail, I’ll just pick myself back up.”
“Atta girl.”
There’s a beat.
Damn, she’s gorgeous.
“Hey, Jonas’ house is really close, right?” she asks.
“Just a few blocks.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. In that case, it doesn’t make sense for you to take me all the way to my apartment when you’re staying at Jonas’ tonight. I’m sure Sarah will give me a ride home later. Let’s walk to Jonas’ house from here and—” She gasps. “Oh my God. I just had an idea. You, me, and Jonas should leave the bar together. That’d be so frickin’ funny.”
I chuckle. “And just like that, our movie’s back to being a porno again.”
Kat laughs.
“Do you really gotta do that to the poor woman? She already hates you enough to hire a hit on you.”
“Hell yeah, I gotta. It’s just too freaking hilarious. How much you wanna bet that tiger-woman is out there hitting on Jonas right now?”
“I’m not stupid enough to take that bet. I’ve been in far too many bars with Jonas over the years.”
Kat laughs and throws her arms around my neck. “God, I missed you.”
“I missed you, too, babe.” I wrap my arms around her and kiss her.
“I’m so glad you came to Seattle early,” she says into my chest, squeezing me tight. “This long-distance thing is killing me, Josh. It’s brutal.”
My chest constricts. If ever there was a cue for me to tell Kat about my upcoming move to Seattle that was just it. But I’m not ready to tell her. I can’t. It’s definitely happening—I’ve just made an offer on the perfect place a few miles from Jonas’. But now’s not the time. We’re in a fucking bathroom, for Chrissakes, and there’s probably a line of people waiting outside the door. And, anyway, my move is happening a whole two months from now, maybe even three. I should probably wait another month or so before I tell her and we start making plans.
“Come on, PG,” I say. “Let’s go see if Lucy’s torn Jonas limb from limb yet, or if she’s at least left the poor guy with a stump to stand on.”
Kat pulls herself together and smooths down her blouse. “Oh my God, I can’t wait to see that woman’s face when I suggest we three leave together.” She does a little shimmy. “This is gonna be the best porno ever.”
Chapter 35
Kat
“Thanks again for the ride, Sarah,” I say, flopping onto my couch. “Sorry if I pulled you away from valuable study time.”
“No, I needed a break,” Sarah says, plopping herself down next to me. “There’s only so much a girl can read about mens rea and caveat emptor before she starts to go a little cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.”
“Well, thanks. It’s awesome to see you. You’ve been studying like a banshee lately.”
“I love how adding ‘like a banshee’ to anything makes it totally next level,” Sarah says, laughing. “I don’t even know what a banshee is or what the hell one does in real life.”
“Hell if I know. I think they scream?”
“And study for law exams, apparently.”
“Well, whatever they do, those damned banshees put their entire heart and soul into it, every time, that’s for sure.”
We both laugh.
“So when do exams finally start? Seems like you’ve been studying every minute since Vegas.”
“Next week,” Sarah says. “ I’ve got exams Monday through Thursday. And then on Friday Jonas is whisking me away to an undisclosed location. He says he’s taking me somewhere really special, but he won’t tell me where.”
My heart swoons vicariously for her. She’s gonna flip out.
“So things are good between you two?” I ask.
Sarah absently touches the platinum bracelet around her wrist. “Things couldn’t be better. I didn’t know I could love someone this much. It physically hurts—like I’m literally straining my heart muscle.”
I bite my lip. “I’m so happy for you.”
Sarah smiles sheepishly. “Thank you. I’m happy for me, too. So tell me about you and Josh. You guys were on fire in Las Vegas. Like, kerzoinks. Whenever we were all together, I kept looking around for fire extinguishers, just in case.”
&n
bsp; I laugh.
“You like him?”
“Yeah, I’m gone—Gone, Baby, Gone. I’m Ben and Casey Afflecked.”
Sarah squeals. “And Josh? Is he Gone, Baby, Gone, too?”
“Well, all signs point to yes. Not all words, mind you, but all signs. I’ve definitely gotta read the tea leaves a bit when it comes to Joshua William Faraday.”
Sarah rolls her eyes. “Those Faraday boys sure weren’t raised to talk about their ‘fucking feelings.’”
I sigh wistfully. “You can say that again.”
“Aw, sounds like you’re a smitten kitten,” Sarah says.
I twist my mouth. “Sarah, I’m not smitten. I’m head over heels in love with him.”
Sarah’s eyes widen. “Holy crappola, girl. I’ve never heard you say that before.”
“I’ve never said it before. But I am.”
“Have you told him?”
I shake my head. “I’ve told him he’s the sexiest man alive. And that I think he’s awesome and I’m addicted. But we certainly haven’t traded the magic words—we haven’t even called each other boyfriend and girlfriend yet.” I roll my eyes. “It’s the weirdest thing. We’re so intimate on the one hand—so close and open and honest and connected—it’s insane how connected—and yet we’re so closed off in some ways. Like there are these unwritten rules.” I shrug. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I get it—believe me—more than you know. Well, have you had the whole ‘let’s not date other people’ conversation, at least?”
“Yeah. But not in the usual way. It came up through this weird back door.”
Sarah grimaces.
“Oh, Sarah. You and your fear of anal.” I laugh. “I wasn’t being literal. I meant it came up because we were talking about doing all sorts of freaky sex-stuff and we decided to be exclusive for that. It wasn’t like, ‘Oh, darling, my heart simply can’t beat without you. I’m ready to take our intimate and budding romance to the next level.’”
Sarah makes a commiserating face. “Same with Jonas. He invited me to be the ‘sole member of The Jonas Faraday Club.’ He never said, ‘Let’s be exclusive.’ Everything’s always in code with that guy. But, really, is there some official way a guy’s supposed to ask to be exclusive? It all gets you to the same place in the end, right?”
I shrug. “Yeah, that’s true. And he did say he doesn’t want anyone touching me. He said it makes him crazy to think of someone else with me.”
“Well, see? There you go. He’s telling you. And he flew you down to L.A. for a long weekend, and now he’s up here to see you the very next weekend. That sure screams ‘girlfriend’ to me.”
“Under normal circumstances, I’d agree. But I don’t know for sure.”
Sarah grabs my hand. “Kat, you’re overthinking it. I saw you two in Vegas. The chemistry is through the roof. He’s totally into you.”
“I know he is. He’s made that clear. I’m not blind. It’s just that our relationship is so sexual—which is fan-fucking-tastic, don’t get me wrong. But I just can’t tell if it’s all about the sex and excitement and here-and-now for him or if he wants something more. You know, something a bit more permanent.”
“Here’s a crazy idea: just ask him. Talk like adults.”
“Pfft. Yeah, because that’s what you did, right? I seem to recall Jonas not saying the three magic words after Belize and you were like, ‘I don’t need no stinkin’ magic words. He told me in a super-secret code and that’s just great with me.’”
Sarah makes a face. “That’s true. I did say that.”
I motion like she’s just made my point.
“Okay, I get it,” Sarah says. “Well, then. Here’s a different approach. How about you get yourself stabbed in a bathroom at U Dub? That’ll jumpstart a conversation about your fucking feelings in a New York minute.”
“Hey, there’s an idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“God only knows if Jonas ever would have told me he loves me if external forces hadn’t intervened.”
“Well, I’m gonna pass on getting stabbed, thank you very much. But how about this as an ‘intervening external force’: Josh is meeting my family on Saturday night.”
Sarah squeals. “No way. Really? You’re sicking the Morgan clan on the guy? Holy hell, now that’s a frickin’ ‘intervening external force’ every bit as powerful as a hitman in a bathroom. Holy hell, the guy doesn’t stand a chance coming out of that night all in one piece. By the end of the night, he’ll be like, ‘Just tell me what you want me to say! Please! I’m sorry!’”
I laugh. “I know, right?”
Sarah looks thoughtful for a minute. “You know, I really wouldn’t get too hung up on expecting Josh to say certain words or make conventional promises to you. If Josh is anything like his brother, then he’s way more fucked up than you even realize. I think their childhood was just utterly crippling in a way we can’t completely understand. I’ve got my own issues, for sure, as you know, and they pale in comparison to what Jonas has had to overcome in his life.”
A vision of Josh’s “overcome” tattoo suddenly leaps into my mind.
“Even with all my fucked up stuff, I always had my mom, teaching me how to love,” Sarah continues. “Who did Jonas and Josh have? I don’t think either of them has ever learned the first thing about how to express emotion or love in a healthy way. They literally don’t know how to love or be loved.”
I process that for a moment. “When we were talking about my mom, he said, ‘I’ve never actually witnessed a wife roaming in its natural habitat.’”
Sarah laughs. “Josh said that?”
I nod.
“Poor Josh.” Sarah touches her platinum bracelet again. “Same with Jonas. He doesn’t understand conventional, fairytale commitment. We never talk about the future or make any long-term plans. He’s just not capable. He’ll never, you know, ask me to marry him or anything like that—and I totally accept that.”
I can barely keep a straight face.
“I just take what I can get in the here and now and that’s enough for me. But I trust him with my life and I’ve learned to just let go and enjoy what we have. Jonas has already promised me forever the way he knows how,” Sarah continues. “He gave me this engraved bracelet and he’s got a matching one—and he got tattoos in my honor—one in Spanish and one in English.” She chokes up. “The most beautiful and poignant words you ever saw.” Her eyes are brimming with tears. “And that’s enough for me. More than enough.” She wipes her eyes and smiles.
I squeeze Sarah’s hand, smiling to myself. Of all the tattoos I babbled off-the-cuff about being “lame” and “prohibited” to Josh, the “girlfriend” tattoo is by far the one I regret the most. It’s absolutely awesome—whether the relationship winds up working out long-term or not. I was such a fool. “You can’t get much more ‘forever’ than a guy getting a tattoo for you,” I say. “Florebblaaaaaah,” I add.
“Floreblaaaaaah?” Sarah asks.
“That’s as close as Josh comes to saying that word.”
Sarah laughs and wipes her tears again. “Maybe you can just decide to ‘hear’ what Josh is telling you with his actions, and not get too bogged down in needing particular words or assurances?” she suggests. “Maybe he’ll never give them to you, Kitty Kat. Maybe he just can’t.” She wipes her eyes again. “I’m a firm believer that actions speak louder than words, anyway. And from what I can see, Josh has been screaming about his feelings for you from the rooftops.”
“Thank you, Sarah.” I exhale. “You’re right. I’ll do my best to just be happy about right now and not look forward. Unfortunately, I’m not nearly as patient or kind as you are.”
“Well, you might not be as patient as me but—”
“I’m not.”
Sarah laughs. “But you’re every bit as kind. You’ve got a heart of gold, my sweet. Just tap into that golden heart and cut Josh a bit of slack. He’s damaged, you know—just totally fucked up—but he’s
also a sweetheart. Just listen to his actions and forget about ever hearing the words. He’s a freaking Faraday, after all. Normal rules don’t apply.”
My cheeks flush. “Thanks, Sarah.”
We stare at each other for a moment, smiling.
“So, I gotta know,” Sarah finally says. “What the eff was the dealio with tonight? Jonas left, saying he was taking you for drinks because Josh wanted to act out an imaginary-porno with you? What the fuck?”
I blush. “That’s how Jonas described it?”
“Yeah. I was studying so I was like, ‘Have fun, dear.’ And then after he left, I looked up from my book and I was like, ‘Wait. Did I just hear that right?’”
I laugh. “Yeah, Josh and I like to get a little freaky-deaky. But don’t worry, Jonas was just our ignorant pawn—an unwitting extra in our movie. No Jonas Faradays were harmed in the making of our imaginary porno.”
“So what was the plot of this imaginary porno? And what was Jonas’ part in it, if you don’t mind me asking? Did he ‘come to fix the kitchen sink’ wearing a huge tool belt?”
I giggle. “No. Jonas’ part was very G-rated, I assure you.”
“You’re making me very intrigued—and very uncomfortable.”
“No, I swear. It was harmless.” I laugh. “I have this fantasy—well, I had this fantasy—I’ve now officially checked it off the list—that I’m on a date with some boring guy, like, you know, a guy I met online named Blane or whatever, and—”
“Blane?” Sarah says, aghast. “Blane’s not a name—that’s an appliance!”
“Exactly!”
We share a long laugh.
“I love Ducky,” Sarah says.
“So, anyway, Blane and I are at a bar, and while poor Blane is babbling about something excruciatingly boring, I catch eyes with the hot bartender and it’s like ka-boom.”
“It’s on like Donkey Kong.”
“Exactly. So I excuse myself to go to the restroom and on my way I slip a note to the bartender—you know, total slut move—”
“Total.”
“He meets me in the bathroom and fucks the crap out of me and then I return to my date like nothing happened.”
