by Lacey Black
“I’m great,” I tell her, clearing my throat. “Here.” I slide the small container across the counter and into her hands. She gives me a look before opening the lid.
“Are these all raspberry?” she whispers, her voice all dark and husky. I instantly think of sex.
Leaning forward, I whisper back, “They are.”
“We should eat them now.” I don’t miss that she leans forward just a bit.
“We should.”
“I’ll get the milk.”
“I’ll get the plates.”
“No plates,” she says as she glances over her shoulder, her hand stalled on the knob for the cabinet. “I like to get messy.”
And that’s when I practically come in my pants. Leaning forward until our faces are even closer, I return fire. “Oh, a dirty girl. I like that.”
Her eyes light up, her breathing hitches. I’m getting to her just as easily as she’s getting to me. It’s like we’re engaging in a game of cat and mouse, or as I like to call it, foreplay. And damn, I can’t wait to start really playing with my girl.
She doesn’t say a word as she heads over to the fridge and grabs the carton of milk. We both steal little glances at each other as we work in tandem in the small kitchen, each of us doing our part to prepare for our small snack. For me, I throw the crepes in the microwave to heat them up a bit. I’d prefer the oven to help keep them crispy, but time’s a wasting. Sure, I could probably just place them on my body somewhere since my blood is boiling, but we’re not to the “eating food off each other’s bodies” stage yet.
We head into her living room with a plate of crepes and two glasses of milk. Without even asking, she grabs her remote and turns on the History Channel. I have a thing for those car shows that transform old cars into badass hot rods, and I guess over the years, she’s just become accustomed to watching them with me.
“You can watch something else, if you want,” I suggest, settling on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.
“Like what?” she asks, taking her place beside me. Her knee touches my leg, and she makes no motion to move it. Like the true adolescent that I apparently am, I’m pretty sure I jizz in my pants.
“I don’t know. What do you want to watch? Pick anything.”
She thinks about it for a while before turning the channel. An old episode of The Brady Bunch is on, and there’s no missing the smile that graces her lush lips. “Excellent choice,” I tell her, pushing the plate of goodness in her direction.
She takes one in her hand, her mouth practically salivating, and turns towards me. “You know I was kidding about eating all of these, right? If I do, I’ll gain ten pounds.”
“Wouldn’t matter. You’d still be gorgeous,” I tell her, making sure to keep my eyes locked on hers.
A blush creeps up her cheeks and a shy smile slips onto her lips, making me do a mental fist pump. I watch, hypnotized, while she takes a small bite of her crepe. Her eyes flutter closed and that small smile turns to a much bigger one. “My God, these are so good.”
“I could watch you eat them all night,” I tell her, taking a bite of my own. “There’s no greater compliment to the chef than watching a beautiful woman enjoy your creation.”
Her eyes open and land on mine. There’s a bit of confusion blazing in her emerald eyes; I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that her best friend is practically hitting on her. There’s also excitement swirling around. I know she doesn’t date much, so I’m assuming she doesn’t hear compliments much either. That both thrills me and pisses me off since she deserves to hear nothing but high praise. Now, I just want to be the one saying them.
Crumbs of the flaky crust and a smudge of raspberry are smeared along her bottom lip. Twitch, twitch goes my dick in my pants, but I ignore the impatient bastard. Instead of humping her leg, I lean forward and swipe her lip with my thumb. Her eyes widen as she watches me, a burst of warm breath hitting my finger. Without breaking eye contact, I stick my thumb in my mouth and lick off the sweet fruit.
She shudders.
We’re both silent as we watch the show–well, I guess technically, I watch her–and eat our second dessert of the night. I’m very much aware of how close we are on the floor. In all honesty, we’ve probably sat this close a million times over the last decade and a half, but tonight, it feels different. It feels right.
I’m yawning by the time the clock hits nine-thirty, a gentle reminder that I didn’t get much sleep today after working all night. Part of me wants to ask her to snuggle up on the couch together, but I don’t want to push my luck. Though, I wouldn’t mind waking up with her tits as a pillow and her pussy all but plastered to my leg. Nope. Not gonna happen tonight, asshole. Remember that story of the jackrabbit and the turtle? I’m determined to be the damn turtle, even if my wayward cock is gunning for the starring role of jackrabbit.
“I’m beat. I’m gonna head out,” I tell her, unable to stop another yawn from slipping out.
“Okay,” she says, jumping up and grabbing the container of crepes. She follows me into the kitchen. I set both glasses in the sink, while she finds the lid. “Here.”
“No, those are yours,” I tell her, walking over to where she’s standing.
“Are you sure?”
“I made them for you.”
Several heartbeats of silence wash over us, our eyes eagerly searching the other. We’re this mix of confusion and need and anticipation. But do you know what I don’t see? What I don’t feel? Uncomfortable. Sure, there’s sudden feelings blended in that weren’t always there, but it doesn’t scare me or make me want to move to Taiwan like it might have a few months ago.
I step up close, invading her personal space, and grab the strand of hair hanging over her ear. “Promise me something, okay?” Her bright eyes don’t waiver as she nods her head. “Promise me that you won’t say yes to one of those dates until you really, really want to. Don’t just say yes to date. Say yes because it’s the only answer you can give. Say yes because it feels right. Can you do that?”
Again, she nods.
Leaning forward, I place a kiss on her forehead, just like I’ve done many times before. Only this time, I let my lips linger a little longer and soak in the feel of her skin, the scent of her hair.
“‘Night, Abs,” I whisper, glancing down and getting lost in those hypnotizing eyes.
“‘Night, Lee,” she croaks out, her voice very hoarse.
Using every bit of strength I possess, I turn and head towards the door. I’m not gonna glance back to see what kinda emotions are on her face, shining in her eyes. I’m not gonna do it.
But before I can close the door, separating us for the night, I turn towards her. I’m rewarded with the faintest smile on her lips that radiates joy and warmth. There’s also no missing the fact that her eyes are glued on my ass again. This time, I wait until she looks up, knowing that I caught her. Not giving her a chance to be embarrassed, I throw her a wink and walk out the door.
I head across the hall.
To my lonely apartment.
To dream about what my next step is in this plan.
A plan to get my girl.
My best friend.
Chapter Thirteen
Abby
So there I am, staring at my best friend’s butt, and he turns and catches me. Cue the blush! Could this be any more embarrassing?
I lock up my apartment and turn off all the lights before heading back to my bedroom. There’s no need to shower before bed, especially in light of the diddle shower I took at my sister’s house only a few hours ago. You know the one, right? Yeah. Didn’t think you’d forget that. Lord knows I haven’t.
Stopping at the doorway to my bedroom, I glance around and take it all in. Modest sized bed with pretty blue and green bedding. Delicate, yet sturdy furniture that shows a hint of wear and tear. Light filtering curtains because I love to wake up to sunlight. Basically, nothing like Levi’s room. His is all dark and masculine with hard edges and
a drawer full of condoms. There isn’t a condom to be found in my room.
Sad, isn’t it?
I bypass my room and head towards my office. Moving the mouse, the screen fires to life, the app tempting and taunting me. What the hell, right? I’m not going to find Mr. Perfect if I don’t at least check to see if he’s into Internet dating.
My profile pops up, along with two messages. I click on the first one, received earlier in the day. Hammer&Nails sent me a note, more basic details of his life. Is it weird that the first thing I think of when I see his username is Ryan? I mean, I know without a doubt that it’s not Ryan, but just the thought of hammer and nails makes me think of my potential future brother-in-law. And that’s kinda disturbing.
I reply to his note, asking for more details and giving him more of mine. It’s very pleasant to talk to him, but I don’t feel anything earth-shattering when we communicate. Am I supposed to feel that? Or something? Maybe that’ll come when we meet face-to-face.
And that makes me think of the things Levi said before he left, asking me not to date just to date. To wait until I knew he was the one to spend my time and energy meeting. I guess, that’s good advice, right? I mean I really don’t want to go on date after date just to find the wrong guy after wrong guy. See? I’m no good at this. Isn’t that what dating is?
God, I’m hopeless.
I find the second message from SimpleMan and my heart rate kicks into overdrive. Excitement races through me, and a broad smile spreads across my face as I click on his message. See? Isn’t this what I’m supposed to feel?
SimpleMan: So, I spent a part of the day with a friend of mine, which might be one of my favorite things in the world to do. How about you? Do you have a friend or two that mean the world to you? And I really need to know what your favorite dessert is.
AngelEyes: Let’s start with dessert, please! My favorite is a fudge brownie. Plain. Simple. Traditional. Though, I’ve recently discovered a love for raspberry crepes. I love anything raspberry, in fact. Especially eating them whole over ice cream. And as far as the friend goes, I do. Besides my five sisters, I have a friend. A great friend, actually. Honestly, he’s probably my only true friend outside of family. We’ve done everything together since we were ten. Tell me more about yours.
I click send before I can second-guess myself, and I’m pleasantly surprised to find him online right now. The bubbles appear on the message, so I sit back and wait for his response.
SimpleMan: A guy friend, huh? That’s pretty cool. My friend is simply amazing. There’s no other way to describe her. Yep, it’s a her. We’ve been friends for a while too. Sometimes, spending time with her is the best part of my day. Do I need to worry about your friend finding me and kicking my ass? Guys are territorial and weird like that.
If he only knew. Levi is super protective of me. I also can’t help but wonder about his female friend. It’s not unheard of, obviously, but it’s rare that a guy and a girl remain friends without crossing the line. Or has he crossed the line? Maybe they were lovers first and determined they were better as friends? The green monster of jealousy rears its ugly head suddenly.
AngelEyes: No, you don’t have to worry about him. As long as you’re a good guy, he won’t cause you any harm.
SimpleMan: Good to know.
AngelEyes: And your friend?
SimpleMan: No worries about her. If she ever met you, I’m sure she’d like you as much as I do. Well, if I get to meet you, that is.
A million thoughts flood my mind, and they all lead to one question. I set my fingers on my keyboard, only to remove them as if it were to bite me. I bet I do this three times before I finally decide to just go for it.
AngelEyes: Should we meet?
His reply is instantaneously.
SimpleMan: In due time, Angel. In due time.
* * *
Almost two weeks later, I decide to use one of my accrued vacation days and get out of the apartment. AJ’s still off on summer break, though she finds herself spending more and more time at the school, prepping her classroom or holding a cheer practice, as July gets closer to August. Since her birthday is tomorrow, we decided to head to the mall for a little shopping and to get some lunch.
We pull into a small deli chain with the best baked mac and cheese ever. My mind instantly goes to Bri, who always tries to order mac and cheese everywhere she goes. After placing our order at the counter, we find an open table by a window. The sun is bright and the reflection is fierce, but the view isn’t bad.
“So, how’s work?” she asks.
“Not bad. I’m almost finished with the first round of edits on a new book. I should be wrapped up with my notes and suggestions by Tuesday or so and I’ll be able to send them to the author,” I reply, stirring my blended raspberry smoothie.
“What’s the book about? Is it kinky?” Her eyes light up at the thought.
“Not really. I mean the sexy scenes are pretty detailed, but it’s no Fifty Shades. Grandma has the Blue Ray, by the way. I found out the hard way when I stopped by the house to drop off a flyer for the food drive and she was sitting in the living room watching it. She was actually eating popcorn and saying all of the lines along with the characters.”
“Yeah, Jaime told me she has, like, multiple copies. It’s a little disturbing,” she replies before taking a drink of her iced coffee.
“Agreed. Have you talked to Lex lately?”
“She stopped by earlier in the week on her way from the salon. I’m worried.”
“Me too.”
Our order number is called and before I know it, I’m about to gorge on half a turkey Panini and mac and cheese. Before I take a bite, I grab my phone and snap a quick pic. I ignore the looks I’m getting from my sister and hit send after typing out a brief message.
Me: Enjoy your leftovers. I’ll have some mac and cheese for you.
Setting my phone down, I dig in. The cheese is still gooey, stringing from my spoon to my bowl. “This is the best stuff ever,” I mumble before shoveling a heaping spoonful into my mouth.
“It’s almost better than sex,” AJ groans as she does the same, chewing slowly as if savoring the bite.
“I barely remember,” I grumble, keeping my attention on my spoon as if it was the most interesting spoon on the planet.
“How long?”
Shrugging, I give her an honest answer. “Two years-ish.”
“Two years? Your vajayjay is gonna close up forever if you don’t use it,” she tells me with a straight face.
“That’s not how it works, and you know it. You’re a teacher for Christ’s sake. And besides, it’s not like things down there don’t…happen, it’s just that there hasn’t been an actual penis in that vicinity in a long time.”
“Vibrators?”
And cue the blush.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about. I use them all the time too. I haven’t dated much lately. The last guy, you remember Seth, don’t you? Well, we went out a few times and he was more interested in my feet than my vagina.”
“Your feet?”
“Yeah. Kept wanting to rub them, which would have been nice except it was a little creepy. The one time we did have sex, he begged to suck on my toes.”
Horrified, I gaze over at my sister. “What did you do?”
“Kicked him out of my bed and blocked him on Facebook. He tried calling a few times, but I never picked up. Eventually, he got the message,” she says shrugging her shoulders.
We both go about our lunches, cleaning our plates and all but licking our bowls of excessive cheese. When the food is all gone, we start to gather up our trash. She’s behind me, checking her phone, when I stop at the door. AJ glances up, worry marring her exotic features. “Toes?” I ask seriously before breaking out in a giggle.
“I know, right? So gross.”
Oh, I can’t wait to tell Levi about this one.
At the mall, we head straight to her favorite department store. We’re about the same size, but our tas
tes are way different. I like modest and things that are comfortable, and AJ is under the impression that if it hurts, it must look good. You know, shoes, underwear (she’s a thong girl and I’ve never been able to get used to them). The lower the neckline, the more she wants it.
Yet, during her job, she’s all plain pastels and paisley prints. She’s as straight-laced as they come when she’s in teacher mode. But after school? Watch out. She’s all about showing off her assets, which would be a fantastic pair of 32D boobs and a butt that I would kill for. Yeah, I may have nice legs, but my boobs barely fill a C cup, on a good day.
She instantly goes towards the bright and bold colors, while I find myself leaning towards a soft purple tank top. The neck is collared and there’s a peephole that stretches from your throat down to just above the cleavage. It’s a bit more revealing than I normally go for, but with the delicate color and the flowy material, I might be able to overlook the way the shirt gives a peek at the girls.
“Oh, you should get that,” AJ says behind me. When I turn around, I see her arms already loaded up with things to try on.
“You think?” I ask, running my hand down the soft material once more. It’s sheer with a shimmer overlay. There’s just enough material to not have to wear something underneath to keep everyone from seeing your bra.
“Definitely. Try it with this skirt.” I glance over and AJ’s handing me a black flowy shirt in the similar fashion of the top. It’s gorgeous.
And short. Not hooker short, but definitely not the knee-length ones I have at home. This one hits mid-thigh.
“You have killer legs. Show them off,” she says, handing me the skirt. “Trust me.”
Famous last words. Last time I trusted one of my sisters, I ended up singing karaoke solo to Madonna, while pretending to have a cone bra. Did I mention that was last year?
“Fine, I’ll try them on. Doesn’t mean I’m getting them,” I tell her, snatching the skirt from her extended hand. She doesn’t say anything, just smirks before grabbing another pair of denim capris.
As I’m heading towards the dressing room, I find myself in the lingerie section. Normally, I would bypass the entire area. Comfy cotton bras and low-rise panties all the way. Simple. But a light colored turquoise lace demi bra with matching panties draws my attention. The color is striking.
