by Megan Hart
Dean caught up to her in the kitchen. He trapped her between his body and the counter as she reached for a glass. “I mean it, Katie.”
She paused. “Dean, it’s no big deal. Really.”
“It’s a big deal to me.”
Before she could answer or protest, her cell rang. She recognized the ringtone. “That’s Jimmy.”
Dean frowned and stepped back. “Guess you’d better answer, then.”
“Is this going to make trouble between us? Because I’d never have agreed to it if I knew that.” Katie grabbed her phone but didn’t answer it. The call went to voice mail and beeped while she waited for Dean’s answer.
“No trouble. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, okay?”
“Dean–”
“Hey,” he said, frown erased by a classic, sunny Dean grin. “This isn’t over, Katie. Don’t worry, I’ll let myself out. See you tomorrow.”
Her phone beeped with a text message. Also from Jimmy. Katie looked at it, then at Dean, who was already waving goodbye as he ducked out the door. “Dean!”
But he was already gone.
It hadn’t been the best hand-job he’d ever had, so why the hell couldn’t he stop thinking about it? Her hands had been small and soft, her mouth soft and sweet, her curves sweet and lush. Katie was a gorgeous woman and he liked her. Being queer didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate her attributes, but until she put the blindfold on, he hadn’t been able to really get into what they were doing.
He was more determined than ever to prove her wrong.
“Your face is going to stay that way,” Katie said serenely from behind him.
She was the one who’d brought the coffee today, two paper cups of it bearing the familiar logo of The Green Bean from down the street. She handed him one and sipped from her own. She looked fresh and bright-eyed, a habit that annoyed him most days but particularly on this one.
“You couldn’t even see my face. My face is fucking fabulous,” Dean said.
“Your eyes are squinty,” she said in a low voice as she passed him, like she was sharing a secret though there was nobody around to hear them. She bumped him with her hip.
He followed her into her office and closed the door. She looked up with a sigh and set her cup down. Dean didn’t sit.
“We didn’t even fuck,” he told her.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Are you still on that?” Katie flipped her fingers at him and leaned back in her chair.
“We said we were going to have sex.”
“We did have sex. Sort of.” Katie crossed her legs and her skirt rode up, giving him a flash of thigh and something that looked suspiciously like pink satin panties.
“I want to try again,” he said.
He’d known Katie for a long time. She often had a witty comeback or a response as subtle and effective as a raised brow. He got her, that was the thing, and knew she understood him, too. It was what made them great partners and better friends. Now, though, he could read nothing on her face, nothing in her eyes.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Katie said after a minute.
“What? Why not?” He wasn’t used to this, someone turning him down. That was a cliché and arrogant, but true. Mostly because Dean had a finely honed sense of who to hit on, not necessarily, as Katie had so often said, that nobody ever wanted to refuse him.
Dean had been refused before, all right. He knew how it felt. It sucked.
“Because we’re friends, Dean, and I don’t want to mess that up.”
“You agreed to it before.”
“That was before,” Katie said calmly enough, but he didn’t have to hear a tremor in her voice to see she was sort of upset. He could tell by the way she didn’t drink her coffee.
“Hey. What’s going on?” Dean slid into the chair across from her and moved forward, forcing her to uncross her legs so his knees could press hers. “Something up with that douchebag Jimmy or whatever the hell his name is?”
“Nothing’s up with Jimmy. That’s the problem.”
“Forget him,” Dean said. “If he can’t see what’s right in front of him…”
She laughed at that. “Right. Because you’re the expert on seeing what’s right in front of you?”
Dean frowned and stood. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
Katie shrugged and swiveled her chair back and forth. “Maybe I want more than a quick fuck from him, that’s all.”
“Isn’t the problem you’re not getting any sort of fuck?”
She sighed, her shoulders lifting and dropping with the force of it. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”
“So…the challenge is off?”
Katie eyed him, one eye squinting and her head tilted as though she were seriously studying him as something foreign. Incomprehensible. “Why do you have such a bug up your ass about this sex thing?”
“You said I couldn’t,” Dean told her.
And that was the truth, mostly.
His phone rang, the ring tone a snippet of classical music he’d assigned to Jacob. His fingers slipped a little on the phone’s glass face as he looked, anyway, to make sure that was the number. He didn’t answer it.
Katie was smiling at him when he looked up, her smile half-quirked. “Was that him?”
“There is no him,” Dean said.
Her grin got a little broader. “Right.”
She swiveled again, kicking her foot up and down, showing off an expanse of shapely thigh he knew she’d never have revealed to anyone else in the office. Katie didn’t do shit like that, use her tits and ass to get attention, even though she could. She was always more comfortable with him than with the other men in the office, and for the first time, this stung a little.
“Is it because you don’t think I’m manly enough?”
Her grin wavered, her brow furrowed. “What?”
“You don’t think I’m manly enough,” Dean said, convinced.
“Oh, Dean. Really? C’mon. You should know better than that.”
Her scoffing didn’t make him feel better, especially when she turned her chair to face the computer, dismissing him. Dean spun her around to face him again. Katie looked as surprised as he felt.
“I want to do it,” Dean said in a low voice.
Katie drew in a breath. She smelled good. She always did, but today he seemed to notice it more. He seemed to notice everything about her more than usual today, most of it accompanied by the memory of her hand on his cock.
“Would it change your mind,” Katie murmured, her gaze bright, her voice throaty, “if I told you I absolutely believed you could make me come?”
“I’ll prove it to you.”
Her laugh this time snagged, rough and sultry. He’d never heard her sound that way before. “Fine. Prove it to me if it’s so important to you.”
“Done,” Dean said as his phone rang again, the same bit of classical music. “When?”
“Tonight? There’s no point in waiting.”
“Your place?”
“Be there at eight,” Katie said. “I don’t want to be up all night.”
“Oh, you’ll be up all right,” Dean said. “Maybe until tomorrow morning.”
It was no big thing, Katie told herself. It wasn’t like she’d never thought about what Dean would be like in bed, or that she’d never gone to bed with a friend before. As a matter of fact, a few years ago she’d had quite a successful “friends-with-benefits” experience with a man she still kept in touch with, unlike many of her friends who’d tried that sexual experiment and had it end badly. So it was no big thing, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it. How he’d smell and taste and feel, if he could indeed get her off the way he promised.
Katie was sure hoping he could.
Distracted by thoughts of Dean’s hard cock, she nearly got hit in the face by the door to the coffee shop as she was heading in and someone was heading out. An old woman, layered in scarves and carrying a monstrously large cup of coffee, barely even
looked Katie’s way as she pushed through the door, but fortunately instead of clipping her face on the glass, Katie only banged her elbow.
“Excuse you,” she muttered, turning to watch the woman pass.
It was the only reason she looked to the street corner and saw Jimmy, wearing familiar and delectable denim jeans, his longish hair tousled, his face scruffy. He was leaning against the street sign talking on a cell phone. If it had been anyone else, even an ex-boyfriend, Katie would’ve had not even a second’s hesitation in approaching him. But this was Jimmy, master of the late-night phone call. Things were always different in daylight.
She didn’t have time to scoot inside the coffee shop before Jimmy looked up, still talking, eyes getting bright. He smiled and said something that must’ve been goodbye, because he slipped the phone into his front pocket and headed toward her.
“Katie.”
“Hi, Jimmy.” She sounded too breathy, too gooey, too junior high. Katie tried again. “How’s it going?”
“Good, good.” He nodded. The breeze moved his shaggy hair, and the sunlight lit up his face. He had eyes the color of caramel, something she hadn’t remembered. “You going in?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh. Yes.”
“Good.” Jimmy grinned again and held open the door, then followed her.
It was the same coffee shop where they’d met, but this time, Jimmy bought her latte and brownies for both of them. He pulled out her chair, too, something no man had done for Katie in a long time. Sitting across from him, their knees bumping every so often, Katie tried hard not to think of this as anything romantic.
It was hard, though, with Jimmy keeping eye contact and laughing at her jokes. Or at the way he casually brushed past her on the way to get more napkins, some cream for his coffee, a fork. He touched her, hand flat on her back between her shoulder blades as he passed. And on the upper arm, and on the shoulder when he got up to greet another friend who’d come into the shop.
He touched her seven times, never in any way that could’ve been construed as anything more than casual, but Katie counted each time, her nerves tingling more with every press of his palm against her. By the time she’d finished her coffee, the brownie not even touched as she’d lost the capability to eat anything while Jimmy flirted with her, Katie thought if he touched her again she was going to melt into a puddle right then and there.
“Well, hey, it’s been great,” Jimmy said suddenly with a glance at the clock on the wall behind her, “but I have to scram.”
He stood, leaving Katie blinking and thinking of something witty to say, but he’d already squeezed her shoulder again and was pushing in his chair.
Damn.
He’d reduced her to speechlessness, which was not her normal state at all. She really hated not being herself around him, that somehow he’d made her the sort of woman who got all giddy and dumbstruck with crush. More than that, though, she hated that Jimmy seemed either oblivious to his effect on her, or so used to creating that response in women that he took it for granted.
“Thanks for the coffee.” Katie stood, too.
“Any time. I’ll call you,” Jimmy promised and shot her a grin.
Katie watched him go, wishing she could believe his offer was real and for her, instead of just his standard response to every female in the world.
Jacob hadn’t been too happy that Dean was going to Katie’s tonight. If any other man had snapped at Dean like that, told him off, said he’d better get his priorities straight instead of fucking around just because he “could” and not because he “should,” well, Dean would’ve told him to fuck off. It had come close to that, actually.
“You want me to cancel?” he’d asked, still tasting garlic and red sauce and wishing Jacob had brought all this up before they’d started eating.
Jacob had cocked his head and looked Dean up and down with a flat, cold gaze. “Would you, if I asked?”
“No.”
Jacob had shrugged. “Then do whatever the hell you want to, Dean. I won’t be that guy.”
“What guy?” Dean had asked, though he was pretty sure he knew.
“The one,” Jacob said as he got up and took his plate, food uneaten, to the garbage can to scrape it, “who waits around for you to figure everything you want and need is right in front of you, while you just keep walking away.”
“Is that a threat?”
Jacob had shrugged and given him another long look. “No, baby. It’s a fact.”
Then he’d pointed at the door, and Dean had gone with his tail between his legs, a fact that pissed him off so much he thought he might just delete that little prick from his phone entirely. But he didn’t. Sitting here in the car in front of Katie’s house, Dean held the phone and waited for it to ring.
But it didn’t.
The last guy he’d wanted and needed had cheated on him, lied to him and finally, left him. What still hurt wasn’t that Ethan had fucked around and been dishonest about it, but that in the end Dean had forgiven him and Ethan had still walked away.
The one who waits around for you to figure everything you want and need is right in front of you, while you just keep walking away.
“Fuck that,” Dean said aloud and tossed the phone into his glove compartment so he wouldn’t hear it not ringing. He looked at the house and wet his lips with his tongue.
He was going to do this, all right. The reasons had gone blurry–he was sure Katie would be okay if he cancelled, but then she’d always look at him when she thought he wasn’t looking and think about how he’d been a pussy. Hell, did that even matter? Why had this become so important? Why couldn’t he just let it go?
The porch light blinked twice. Katie. He probably looked like the biggest douche ever, sitting here in the car like he couldn’t make up his mind. Dean drew in a breath. In, out. Game time.
She greeted him at the door with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hey. I thought you weren’t going to make it.”
“No. I’m here.” He paused, suddenly feeling like maybe he should’ve brought flowers or something like that. Feeling lame. This was Katie, for fuck’s sake, his friend. He could’ve at least brought a bottle of wine.
“C’mon in.” She stepped aside and closed the door behind him.
They stood in the entryway, more awkward than they’d ever been with each other. Dean remembered his senior prom, standing with his date and feeling the same way. Feeling like he was putting on a show that wasn’t fooling anyone.
Should he kiss her? He’d have kissed her on the cheek or hugged her, at least, if they hadn’t agreed to fuck. He’d have at least slipped an arm around her waist as he followed her to the living room to give her a squeeze as he asked about her day. All things he’d done before but now couldn’t quite manage.
“Something to drink? I have some of that wine you like,” Katie offered.
“Actually, I already poured it, so you’d better be having some. I can’t finish the bottle myself.”
She pointed to the coffee table. Bottle, two glasses. It was his favorite.
“Yeah.” Dean sat, took a glass, looked at her. “Do you need this?”
Katie looked a little surprised as she sat next to him, reaching for her own glass. “You mean…for tonight?”
“Yeah.” Dean cleared his throat. “You want to back out? Or you need to be a little drunk?”
Katie laughed and shook her head. “No, sweetie, I totally do not need to be a little drunk to fuck you. Unless…you don’t want to?”
She looked wary and hesitant, an expression Dean felt on his own face and didn’t like. “No. I mean…unless you don’t want to.”
Katie sighed heavily and sank into the couch cushions while sipping the wine. “Oh, Dean. Listen, this was your idea, so if you don’t want to, I totally get it. We don’t have to have sex. Believe me,” she added somewhat sourly. “You won’t be the first man today who didn’t want to make love to me.”
That sounded bad. Maybe ev
en worse than his own trials with Jacob. Dean turned to face her. “That fucker Jimmy?”
She shrugged and ran a fingertip around the top of the wineglass, making it sing. “I saw him today. I mean actually saw, not talked to on the phone.”
She detailed how they’d met by accident. The coffee, the touching. It pissed Dean off to hear how sad she sounded about it.
“He’s a fucking moron,” Dean said flatly. “A foron. Really, babe.”
Katie’s sigh was shaky as she put her glass on the table. “I should just forget him.”
To his alarm, because Katie wasn’t a wilting flower at all, Dean saw she was on the verge of tears. “Hey. C’mere.”
He pulled her close so she could snuggle in at his side, her cheek to his chest. She fit just right in the curve of his arm, his chin against her hair. She sighed heavily again and put her arms around him.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, voice muffled.
He stroked a hand down her hair and they sat that way in silence for a few minutes. The words that came out of him next surprised him, quiet though he said them.
“He wants to be in a real relationship with me.”
“Of course he does,” Katie said, brushing her cheek against his chest again.
“You’re fabulous.”
“…no. I mean…yes,” Dean said. “But that’s not what I mean.” More silence.
“You’re afraid,” Katie said softly. “I get it. I know about you and Ethan, remember?”
For the first time in a long time, Dean didn’t stiffen at the other man’s name. For the first time, Ethan’s face had faded enough another face could replace it. “I don’t want to be like him, Katie, and that’s what Jacob said I was like.”
She looked up at him, her eyes wet though her cheeks were dry. “He said that?”
“Not exactly,” Dean admitted. “I mean, fuck, he doesn’t know about Ethan. Not like you do. But he said he wasn’t going to wait around while I just keep walking away.”
“Ah.” She didn’t move away from him. “Well, sweetie, maybe he has a point, you know?”
