by Monica James
The dense heat in the car is fogging up the windows and my brain, shrouding us from the outside world. Blind to the universe, it feels like it’s only Madison and me, and I can’t stop myself as I lean forward, closing the distance between us. A magnetic pull controls my actions, and I’m powerless to stop it. But who am I to fight nature?
Madison’s breath gets caught in her throat, and just as I lean in further, mere inches separating our lips, she shakes her head and pulls back quickly, her eyes flighty and wide.
“O-Okay, lead the w-way,” she stammers, totally shooting me down.
Taking a deep breath, I nod but hesitate, as I suddenly don’t know if going up to my apartment is the best thing to do. And it’s not because of my stupid rule.
It’s because I don’t know how I’ll respond to having Madison in my home, because all I can think about is how her soft lips would taste as I press her up against my bedroom wall. I really should have thought about this ingenious plan before I was sitting in my apartment’s underground garage.
Manning up, I pull it together and smile. “Follow me.” I exit the car, afraid of what I’m leading us into.
19
Just Friends
MADISON
“Would you like a towel?” Dixon asks as he tosses his keys onto the marbled countertop.
Looking down at my soiled, very transparent top, I nod. “Yes, please.” I shyly cross my arms across my chest.
Dixon smiles. “I won’t be a minute. Please make yourself at home.” He disappears down the hallway.
The moment he’s out of sight, I let out the pent-up breath I was holding and lean over, bracing my hands on my knees and taking five deep breaths. When I feel relatively calm, I stand back up and attempt to process everything that happened.
Tonight has been one of the craziest nights of my life, and I’ve lived through some crazy shit. It all started with meeting David’s parents. I was beyond nervous, but the moment I met Dean and Rhonda, all my nerves were put to rest. Our conversation wasn’t forced, and before I knew it, we were bidding one another farewell and promising to catch up soon.
Not once did my thoughts stray to Dixon, and as David glanced at me throughout the evening with nothing but adulation in his eyes, I realized I wasn’t being fair to him. He was trying, while I was barely making an effort, so when he asked if I wanted to stay the night at his place, I said yes.
He was beyond excited and his enthusiasm was contagious, because before I knew it, we were making out in my apartment, heading toward my bedroom. We were only meant to drop by my place so I could grab a change of clothes, but I got caught up in David’s hypnotizing eyes and dimpled smile. I was also feeling a touch rejected by Dixon, who I hadn’t heard from all week.
I like David, I really do. He’s straightforward, and he doesn’t mess with my head. Not to mention he’s the perfect gentleman with perfect parents. So why did I freak out when we started getting hot and heavy?
It was because being with David is easy, and nothing thus far has been easy in my life. What if he’s really too good to be true and I fall in too deep, letting myself go, and he hurts me? What happens if he finds out the true reason behind my detachment, and can’t handle the truth?
These thoughts plagued my mind, and before I knew it, he was unzipping my jeans and burying his face where I never want anyone to be. He felt me freak out and begged me to tell him what was wrong. But I couldn’t. I’m not ready to tell him. I’m not ready to relive the worst night of my life.
But then I did something stupid. I threw him out. I threw him out with no explanation why I flipped out. And like the true gentleman that he is, he left.
His kind response made me feel even worse and I called the only person that could make it go away.
Mary.
She was out at Cherry Pop, so I caught a cab and met her there. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, I was secretly hoping I would bump into Dixon again. However, my horrible night went from bad to fucking worse.
The club was huge, and it didn’t help that half of Manhattan was there. We didn’t organize a place to meet, so I went upstairs in hopes I would find her there, but instead I found Dixon basically getting a lap dance from a blonde barfly, and he didn’t seem to mind.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, and I ended up running down the stairs and directly into Tim.
He was the last person I wanted to see, so I couldn’t help but give him a piece of my mind once and for all. I was handling my own just fine, but then out of nowhere, Dixon came throwing down like the fucking Terminator. Memories of the eager, handsy blonde plagued my mind, and I was mad that he was here, saving the day once again, because he clearly wasn’t thinking about me five minutes before.
Then before I knew it, Dixon’s fragrance and chivalry was screwing with me and I was being whisked away in the rain.
In the car, Dixon did it to me once again, and I lost all sense of reason and told him things I never intended to say. When he asked me if I wanted to be dropped off anywhere, I couldn’t say David’s place, for obvious reasons. And Mary was probably drunk and on the prowl, as she had finally stopped hating men.
So it made sense to go to his place and call her, instead of turning up on her doorstep unannounced, and honestly, I wanted to spend more time with him and ask why he didn’t contact me all week. I know I have no right to be mad, but we were moments away from kissing Monday night, and then I got the cold shoulder all week.
I don’t get it. I don’t get him. And I don’t get my reaction toward him, especially when I’m supposedly dating David.
I need to stay away, but I can’t.
“Here you go,” Dixon says, snapping me out my thoughts as he passes me a burgundy towel and his phone.
“Thanks.” I unclasp my messy bun and towel off my hair, paying attention to the soaked ends.
“Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Just water, please,” I reply, as my tipsy body needs some H2O.
“Sure thing.” He disappears once again.
I’m not sure if it’s my imagination or not, but Dixon appears nervous, but I disregard it and dial Mary. As expected, she doesn’t answer.
I could call Sebastian, but I don’t want to disturb him and my mom at 2 a.m.
Dixon returns moments later with a goblet of water and a bag of peas.
“Did you get a hold of her?” he asks, and I notice he’s changed into a navy V-neck tee.
I shake my head. “No. She’s not answering. I’ll try again.”
After ten fruitless phone calls and an abundance of wasted text messages, I give up.
“I’ll call a cab,” I say with a sigh, and in that precise moment, a thunderclap sounds so loudly, I yelp in terror, dropping my bag of peas to the floor. “I hate storms,” I explain, my hand over my racing heart.
“Well, you can’t go back out there then,” Dixon says, picking up the peas and placing them against my injured hand.
“So, what do you suggest?” I ask, lifting my eyes to meet his, touched by his kindness to tend to my wounds.
“Well…you could stay here,” he casually suggests with a shrug, applying firmer pressure to my hand.
“Here?” I gasp, my heart beginning to race once again.
“Sure. I’ll sleep on the sofa. No biggie.”
“No, I can’t do that,” I quickly counter, because that would be wrong.
“What? Stay here?” he asks, his eyebrows knitting together as he releases my hand.
Yes, I so should not be staying here. But it’s getting late, and I’m running out of options.
I’ve come to a crossroad and I’ve decided I want Dixon in my life, and although I’m seeing David, that doesn’t mean I can’t be Dixon’s friend. This is all part of moving on with my life.
So with that affirmation in mind, I clarify, “I can’t let you sleep on the sofa,” as I would feel awful kicking him out of his bed.
&nbs
p; “I don’t mind,” he says with a smirk, crossing his arms across his broad chest.
“Well, I do,” I stubbornly argue. “I’ll take the couch.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not sleeping on the sofa.”
I’m suddenly struck with a very bold idea. “We’re both adults. I mean, we could both sleep in your bed. If you don’t mind,” I add, not wanting to seem presumptuous.
A smirk tugs at Dixon’s lips. “As long as you don’t snore, then sure, I don’t mind sharing my bed with you.”
I laugh, happy he’s making jokes. “Not that I’m aware of,” I confess.
Dixon nods, and as he slowly scans down my body, my cheeks flush a bright red.
“Would you like a change of clothes and a shower?” he asks after clearing his throat.
Picking at my soaked top, I nod. “Yes, please. Sorry for imposing.”
Dixon shakes his head, his damp hair flicking up in deliciously rebellious peaks. “You’re no imposition at all.”
As Dixon makes his way down the hallway, I realize that I want to ask who the handsy blonde was. But what right do I have? He can see whoever he wants. I mean, we’re just friends, right?
20
First Time
DIXON
This is a bad idea on all accounts, yet I can’t look away when Madison switches off the bathroom light and enters my room. My Einstein T-shirt looks like a dress on her, and the pajama bottoms are dragging along the floor, even though she’s rolled them up a number of times. She subconsciously tugs at the loose collar, but it slides off her shoulder and she gives up with a huff.
“Thanks for lending me your clothes,” she says with a small smile.
“No problem.”
There’s no way I’m having her in my bed in only her underwear, as there will be no hope of me controlling myself.
Madison pads over to the bed and gently pulls back the black comforter and slips underneath. I’m resting against the headboard, trying my best to appear impassive about her being in my bed as I flip through my iPad, looking at God-knows-what.
She lets out a contented sigh as she settles low, the blankets resting under her chin. She looks way too tempting, snugly wrapped up in my bed, and she also looks like she belongs.
Looking down at her, I realize that my stupid rule is now utterly obsolete because I love having her here in my home, but more so, in my bed.
Clearing my throat, I switch off my device and turn off the light, shrouding my bedroom in almost complete darkness.
As I slip under the covers, my body temperature spikes, as I don’t usually wear anything to bed. But seeing as that was highly inappropriate, I’ve thrown on a pair of sweats and a tee. Staying clothed is going to be a miracle, however, as my already heated body doesn’t need any extra warmth.
“Dixon?” Madison says, her voice the only beacon of light in the dark.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for allowing me to stay over. I like being here. I feel…safe,” she professes in a mere whisper.
If that wasn’t the sweetest darn thing I’ve ever heard, then I don’t know what is.
“I like you being here too,” I declare. “I feel…”
What do you feel, Dixon? I question myself. Thinking of the appropriate phrase, I know that only one word is enough.
“Happy,” I conclude, not feeling like a total pussy for saying my thoughts aloud.
“And you haven’t been before?”
Her simple question strikes a nerve, and I reply honestly. “Not for a long time, no.”
And it’s true. I may have been sexually satisfied, but I always knew what an egotistical asshole I was, sleeping with endless, faceless women and not giving a damn.
“Well, I’m glad I make you happy because you make me happy too,” she confesses, and the strain in her voice reveals just how hard that was for her.
Her petite body wrapped in my huge bed is doing things to my head that I haven’t experienced in a very long time. And I don’t mean the head between my legs. I think I’m falling, and falling hard for Madison. Her innocence, purity, but most of all, her honesty, is like a breath of fresh air, and it’s only now have I realized how oxygen-deprived I’ve been.
As she shuffles closer, her vanilla scent wraps me in a tight bubble, and I can’t stop myself as I inch forward, wanting to bask in her fragrance.
“If I snore, wake me up, okay?”
I laugh lightly at her sincerity. “I’m sure you don’t. But if by chance you do, I’ll just smother you with my pillow.” She giggles, the bed jolting with her amusement.
“Okay, deal.” There is a pregnant pause, before she shyly discloses, “I haven’t slept beside anyone before.”
“Ever?” I ask, taken aback.
Is this beautiful woman telling me she’s a goddamn virgin, as I can’t see her being a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kinda girl?
My question is answered when she simply replies, “Never.”
That one, single word is my undoing, and I slowly bend forward, kissing her on the forehead. I linger a little longer than I should, but I can’t help it.
“Well, I’ll try my best to make it a memorable first time,” I say, pulling away slowly.
I hope my admission doesn’t freak her out because it could be misconstrued the wrong way. But in a way, I want her to keep that thought in her mind. We’re quiet for a few moments, facing one another in the dark, but I can feel her inquisitive eyes on me, no doubt absorbing what I just said.
“Goodnight, Madison,” I drowsily say, my eyes drifting shut, her gentle breaths lulling me to sleep.
“Dixon?” she whispers.
“Yes.”
“You already have,” she divulges.
I don’t reply, because the only way to do so would be smashing my lips to hers. I can’t for so many reasons, but the one that stands at the forefront is the fact that, once I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.
And that scares the living hell out of me.
* * *
I wake suddenly, a fine sheen of sweat covering my entire body. And it’s not because I’m slowly roasting under my sheets. I have a weird feeling that I heard someone outside my front door. Madison is breathing softly beside me, her exhalations deep and relaxed, so she obviously didn’t hear a thing.
I still decide to go check it out.
I carefully tiptoe through my room, as the moonlight peeking in from the blinds is my only source of light. But I know my apartment like I know the back of my hand, and have no problems navigating through. However, I’m used to things being in certain spots. Madison’s discarded shoe is not one of them.
Very ungracefully, I trip and land on both knees as I grab onto the end of the bed to stop my fall. I instantly look up, terrified I’ve woken Madison from her peaceful slumber. But when she murmurs lightly and rolls onto her side, I know she’s sound asleep. My reaction to protect her was purely innate. I haven’t felt that way in so very long, and it’s actually nice to care about someone other than myself.
Rising up slowly, I focus on the floor to ensure the coast is clear. Thankfully, I make it to the living room without further injury. I stop in the middle of the room and pivot my head toward the door.
Silence.
I could have sworn I heard a noise, but if someone was there, they seem to be gone. Deciding to go back to bed, I turn toward my bedroom but suddenly hear the gentle rustling of someone searching through a bag. I knew it.
Charging to the door as silently as I can, I yank it open to see Juliet outside, looking through her handbag. She stops rummaging through her purse and pulls back, confused, when she sees me in my sweats and tee.
“Nice pajamas,” she mocks, her gaze landing on my Yankees top.
She knows I usually wear nothing to bed, and considering I have a serious case of bed hair, I can’t exactly say I was bumming around watching TV.
“Why are you here?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
Juliet smiles.
“I’ve come to tuck you in.” She takes a step forward, indicating she wants to come in.
That’s not going to happen.
I quickly place my arm across the doorjamb, preventing her from entering. She looks at me, raising an eyebrow.
“Who are you hiding in there?” she asks, standing on her toes to see over my shoulder.
I move to the left to stop her from seeing in. “No one’s hiding,” I say, trying to appear cool.
“Well, let me in.” She attempts to push me out of the way.
I stand my ground, however, because there’s no way she’s setting foot inside this apartment. “I’m tired, Juliet. Can we do this another time?” I say, hoping to stall her.
“Do what, Dixon? I haven’t seen you all week. You totally blew me off last time, and not in a good way. You owe me,” she states, cocking a challenging brow.
I’m afraid to ask, but I question anyway, “Owe you what?”
“You know what,” she replies, pursing her lips seductively. “You owe me at least one…” and she holds up a finger. “Two…” She holds up another. “Ten mind-blowing orgasms,” she concludes, holding up both hands. “It’s time to pay up.”
“Now?” I ask, standing rigid so she can’t shove past me.
“Yes. Right now.” She takes a step closer, her chest almost touching mine.
“Now is not a good time for me,” I reply, faking a big yawn. “I’m beat. I don’t think I’ll be able to deliver one orgasm, let alone ten.”
This will hopefully be enough of a deterrent for Juliet, because denying her pleasure means she has no reason to be here. But of course she has other ideas.
“Well,” she says, pulling back her shoulders. “If you’re not going to fuck me, the least you can do is watch.”
“Watch what?” I ask, swallowing.
“Watch me fuck myself.”
Before I have time to protest, she slides a hand down the front of her skirt and begins pleasuring herself.
