Struggle to Forever: a friends to lovers duet

by Lilliana Anderson

  “I thought you met through uni?”

  “That’s how I met Elliot. Gary and I worked in the same restaurant. Turned out we went to the same uni too. We met up a few times between class, and he’d drive me home after work.” She remembers their beginning with a sweet smile. “Anyway, that’s when I met Elliot too. They were in their final year. I was first year. I felt pretty cool hanging around with a couple of would-be lawyers.”

  “How’s Gary liking his first year in the field?”

  “Oh, Gary’s happy and settled with his firm. It’s a little boutique place in North Sydney focusing on corporate. Nowhere near as big as Turner, Barlow, Smith. But Elliot always had big goals. He’s got big footprints to follow.”

  “I heard his dad expects him to become a barrister.”

  She lifts her eyebrows. “He wants him to become a judge. That’s why he’s working where he is. One of the partners has the ear of the Attorney General. If Elliot plays ball, he’ll be on the fast track once he’s transferred to Chambers.”

  I frown. “Sounds like a lot of back scratching is going on.”

  She shrugs. “When you’re the only son and there’s a family legacy to uphold, you do what you gotta do.”

  “Too bad if you hated law,” I say, testing to see what she knows.

  She seems unfazed. “Elliot’s a natural. Valedictorian. He’ll blow everyone away.” If Ken ever lets him out of the office. I keep that thought to myself, not sure if Elliot has discussed his unhappiness over work with his friends.

  I glance up, spotting Elliot and Gary approaching with more drinks. They have that easy camaraderie that comes from being long-time friends, talking close and laughing together. They stop and chat with a group of three guys and two girls. It’s a flurry of hand clapping, shoulder slapping and cheek kissing. One girl lingers with her hand on Elliot’s chest, and I feel the beginnings of a pang of jealousy developing in the pit of my stomach. But when Elliot steps back and points over to us, an intimate grin curving his mouth when he meets my eyes, my worries die and my heart swells. Elliot wants me.

  “There are going to be a lot of girls around here who are pissed you snagged him,” Stephanie says, watching the same thing I am.

  I roll my eyes and laugh. “Is there anywhere that doesn’t have girls crushing on Elliot?”

  She laughs along with me and shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  With a shrug, I give her a look that says, ‘well there you go’.

  Elliot and Gary return with the drinks and their friends, and Elliot brings me to his side, introducing me to the group. I only catch the name of a blond guy called Michael, and a dark-haired guy with a tattooed arm called Brad. The rest gets lost in the club's noise. Regardless, I nod hello and shake hands, smiling politely to each of them. The girl who was clinging to Elliot gives me a fake-bright smile and shakes my hand weakly. Sorry, sweetheart. He’s mine now, my eyes smile and say in return.

  “These are your friends, huh?” I ask Elliot, sipping on my new drink as one of the guys announces he’s buying shots and takes off for the bar.

  Elliot smiles after him before returning his attention to me. “Are they too much?”

  “Not at all. I like it.”

  “They’re a cool bunch. I’ve known most since school—Brad, I know from the kayaking club—and a couple are from my security days.”

  “So popular. They must know Evan more than Elliot.”

  He chuckles. “Well, he is the fun one.” Pulling my chin towards him, he kisses me softly.

  “Yeah. But Elliot is the sexy one,” I say, smiling up at him, feeling decidedly smitten.

  Goodbye, Trina.

  Elliot kisses me harder, more intensely. It goes a long way towards pushing the hurt from losing David away and showing me the path forward. David was right, we were only hurting each other.

  “Tequila!” A cheer erupts at our tables as Michael places a tray in the centre of the table, laden with shot glasses, a bowl full of lemon wedges and sachets of salt.

  “All right, everyone. Lick your hands and hold them out,” he bellows over the music, shaking salt on the back of our hands between our thumb and index fingers. One of the girls hands out the lemon wedges, and Brad hands out the tequila shots.

  We hold them aloft as Michael calls out, “Ready? Go!”

  In synchronised movement, we lick the salt, knock back the tequila and suck on the lemon, dropping the rind back on the tray as we all make noises about how much the alcohol burns on its way down our throats.

  “I swear that stuff removes your nose hairs!” Stephanie yells.

  I nod in agreement. I feel as though my own sinuses are much clearer after that shot.

  “Round two!” Some other guy calls as he comes over with a new loaded tray. He’s new to me, but the group seems pleased with his arrival.

  “Holy shit!” I laugh as I hold out my hand for the salt, the process beginning again. I’m already feeling the alcohol all the way down to my feet.

  “You don’t have to do them if you don’t want to,” Elliot assures me.

  “It’s OK. I'll be fine.”

  Famous. last. words.

  I think we do six shots in total before moving back to vodka and Red Bull. We’re all laughing and dancing and just being generally stupid, which is just what I needed. I’m too smashed to think about my missed competition or my absent friend. I’m just feeling the music and the magical hum in my veins that numbs the bad and heightens the good. I’m a happy drunk.

  On the packed dance floor, hot bodies press together, gyrating away to the music under the constant flashing lights.

  Elliot and I break away from the rest of the group, my arms wrapped around his neck, our hips grinding. Grabbing a hold of my head to still my movement, he places his mouth on mine and devours me. Long deep satisfying kisses that travel down my neck and back up to my mouth. I need more. I need to feel how much he wants me, test how far he’s willing to go. I want him so turned on he loses control, willing to take risks, just to have me. Call me crazy, call me conceited, but when I writhe against him, feeling his public arousal press against my pelvis, I place my hand on his crotch and rub him through his jeans.

  I feel a vibration as he moans into my mouth and pulls my body closer to his, gripping my behind and letting his hand travel under my dress to rub between my legs. A sense of triumph sets my body on fire as I lift my leg and wrap it around his waist, pressing myself against his erection, wondering how far we can take this. He grips my buttocks tightly and presses himself harder against me, groaning as we dry fuck to the music in the middle of a crush of bodies.

  Needing more than mere friction, the alcohol removing any concern for what I’m about to do, I reach between us and undo his zipper, sliding his erection out and taking it inside me via the side of my panties. We both gasp as we make contact, never breaking the connection between our mouths. I keep my leg up and wrapped tightly around his waist as we move our hips together. My head is filled with a rush of desire, the risk of being caught, and the dizzying effects of the alcohol in the thump of the music. It all makes this so much more intense and pleasurable, and the act chases all of my thoughts away. I can only focus on what’s happening right in this moment. Bliss.

  He groans into my mouth as he comes, and I experience a sheer rush of adrenaline, enjoying what I do to him. What we do to each other. I can’t help but delight in the fact this gorgeous hunk of a man, the man so many other women wanted, has chosen me. Me. The girl who always gets left behind. He chose me…

  “Holy fuck, Katrina,” he moans in my ear. “See what you do to me?”

  I grin as I put my leg back down and he slides out of me, straightening himself up as discreetly as possible. He holds my face in his hands and grins wildly at me, laughing and shaking his head before he kisses me again. The joy in his eyes, the sense of being the centre of his world gives me a great sense of belonging as we continue to dance and kiss and touch each other, ignoring
everyone else around us. There’s only us. I can be happy with this man.

  By the time my mouth has gone dry, I feel a little less drunk. I tell Elliot I need some water, and he immediately volunteers to get me some.

  “I’ll meet you at the bar,” I say. “I should visit the ladies’ room to clean up a little.”

  He nods. “Still in a funk?”

  I shake my head. “Definitely not.”

  He kisses me briefly, then we head in opposite directions, holding on to each other until we can’t reach anymore. We can’t wipe the smiles from our faces.

  When I reach the ladies' room, the line is snaking towards the door as it typically does in nightclubs. While I wait, I spot Stephanie talking to another girl while she touches up her makeup. Noticing me too, she smiles at me via the mirror then joins me in line.

  “You look like you’ve been having a good time.” She gives me a knowing grin and I wonder if she noticed anything on the dance floor.

  “I am drunk off my head. But I’m having a blast.”

  “I love how much Elliot adores you.” She sighs and touches her chest lightly. “You’re literally the only person he can see. It’s beautiful.”

  “Surely I’m not the only girl he’s ever been with.”

  She shrugs. “Not like this.”

  I feel the heat rise in my cheeks.

  “I hear you’re Elliot’s girlfriend?” The girl Stephanie was chatting to holds out her hand to shake mine. “I’m Jasmine.”

  “Katrina.”

  “You have to tell us; how did you land Elliot? He never goes out with any of us—not through a lack of trying on our part.” Jasmine laughs, and Stephanie lifts her eyebrows in a ‘told you so’ expression.

  “I didn’t do anything special. We just get along.”

  “Yes. But I get along with Elliot too. What makes us so different?” She doesn’t seem to be saying this to be snide. There is more of a genuine curiosity behind her words. I have to admit that I can see where she’s coming from. She really is a gorgeous girl, with dark chocolate eyes, honey-kissed hair and full lips. She is probably a head shorter than me and has the classic hour-glass figure that men drool over. I can understand that when you look like her, you’re used to having men all over you. So, when a guy doesn’t give you the attention you’re after, it could be a little confronting.

  Compared to her, I feel enormous and awkward. I get my fair share of attention from men, but it’s rare that I get that attention from someone who’s taller than me. Normally, I find that the tall fit men I’m interested in, are attracted to girls who look exactly like the one standing in front of me. David was a prime example of that…David. David who loves me. David who would rather run away than fight for me. David. Fuck.

  “Jasmine!” Stephanie chides, snapping me back to the present. “You can’t say that.”

  “What? I’m not being mean, I’m just wondering is all,” Jasmine says, wide-eyed.

  “I’m not offended, it’s fine. I understand. But I guess I can put it down to mutual interests: we train together at lunchtimes, and everything just kind of progressed from there.”

  “Ah, see? I knew there had to be something special about you—you’re a fitness nut too,” she says, waggling her finger at me and smiling like she broke the code.

  I laugh, and then it’s my turn to use the toilets, so I tell them I’ll see them out there. When I finish and leave the cubicle, I almost laugh aloud when I see my reflection in the mirror. My mouth is all red from all the kissing earlier, and my hair is slightly messed up with my smoky eye looking more like a panda eye. I pat some water over my face and wipe a damp paper towel under my eyes. The girl next to me offers me her lip-gloss and I happily accept, applying it before I smooth down my hair and teeter back out to the dance floor feeling slow and light-headed.

  Holy shit. I’m more drunk than I thought.

  Making my way over to the bar, I can’t see Elliot. I look towards the tables we were sitting at earlier and find him there talking to Brad and Gary. When he sees me, he smiles, holding up the bottle of water he’s gotten for me. I walk over to him and take it, gratefully drinking half of it. Waiting for me to screw the lid back on, he pulls me down to sit on his lap, absent-mindedly caressing my thigh as he continues to talk to his friends.

  A few others come over to join us, and some of the girls ask me if I want to go and dance again while the men all talk and drink. I’m about to go, but Elliot tightens his grip around my waist and implores me to ‘stay’ before kissing me behind my ear. My heart flips with emotion and the intimacy of that one word.

  He wants me to stay. He won’t let me dance alone.

  Emotion pricks my eyes, and I press against him just that little firmer, feeling that the closer I am, the less heavy my heart is.

  When the club calls last drinks, we all head outside together. Some want to continue to party elsewhere, while others say their goodbyes and make their way to the taxi rank. Elliot’s friends are so kind and complimentary towards me and say they hope to see me again soon. “Same here,” I say.

  Elliot puts his arm around me, and we walk over to join the queue so we can catch a taxi back to his place. “Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks. “No more funk?”

  “No more funk,” I repeat, smiling up at him. “Your friends are really nice. Thanks for introducing me.”

  “I’m glad you like them. They seemed to like you.”

  “Well, I think I’m a bit of an enigma to them. They said you don’t bring girls out very often.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Good,” I tell him seriously. I don't think I could have taken it if I was perceived as just another girl hanging off Elliot’s arm. I’ve spent too much of my life feeling that way, copping shitty stares from other girls as a result. But, if I’m copping shitty stares because I’m the only one and they’re jealous, well, I can handle that.

  We stop when we reach the end of the line, and he turns to me with a thoughtful expression. “You know, I’m not hiding my feelings for you anymore. I don’t even give a fuck about work. I just want to be with you.” He slurs a little, and when I look up at him, the world is swimming, but I’m happy to hear that.

  In my drunken mind, it’s one of the most romantic things anyone has ever said to me. “Really?”

  He nods. “Really.”

  I kiss him, emotion mixed with alcohol swirling within me, filling my cracked heart with hope.

  I want to fall for this guy. I want him to become my world and make me whole again.

  We aren’t as urgent with each other when we get back to his place this time. Instead, he leads me to his room, and we take our time, slowly undressing and touching each other, stumbling a little with drunken fingers. I love to run my hands over his chest and down over his abs, feeling the hard strength rippling just beneath his smooth skin.

  When he lowers me on the bed, he takes his weight on his hands and holds himself over me looking down, searching my face with his eyes. I smile, languishing under his gaze as I reach up to run my hands through his thick hair.

  “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he says seriously.

  “I’m glad, because I think I could fall for you too,” I whisper back, my voice wavering as I speak words I believe in this moment to be true. But deep inside, I feel a pang that whispers another name, one my heart can never seem to let go of. What is wrong with me?

  When Elliot leans down and kisses me, I empty my mind, focusing on his motion as he makes love to me with tender movements. I almost cry from the beauty of it, keeping my eyes open the whole time, filling my mind with the man above me, forcing another face out of my mind, trying to surrender to what I’m feeling and let it consume me.

  Twenty-Seven

  “Stay with me.” Elliot slides his arm around me, naked bodies pressing close beneath grey sheets.

  I look at him through lazy slits. “I am so hungover right now. I’m not leaving this bed until I’m forced to.”
r />   “Then it’s settled.”

  “What is?”

  “You’re spending the next few days with me.”

  I grin. “You just decided that for me, did you?”

  “Yep.” His hand moves against my skin, over the curve of my behind, down to the back of my thigh which he pulls so my leg wraps around his waist. “You said you had a week off when your exams and your race was done. I couldn’t go to Hamilton Island with you. But I can definitely hide you away in my apartment so I can come home and fuck you into relaxation every night. You can spend the days on the beach, soaking up the sun, taking in the beachside vibe. It’s a perfect solution.”

  “Perfect, huh?”

  He nods. “One where we both get what we want.”

  “Hmm.” I place my hand on his ribs, moving my fingers lightly. “If you’re hiding me here, does that mean the job remains?”

  His eyes lose focus for a moment before clearing up as his drunken ramblings seem to dawn on him. “For now, unfortunately. Drunk me seems to forget I’m a Roberts. There’s a path I need to follow.”

  “See, that really bothers me. If you’re truly unhappy making your career in law, you should be free to pursue something else. Regardless of who your family is. Life’s too short to be miserable. Believe me. I almost died.”

  He lets out a sigh as he shifts to run his fingers over the scar on my face. “I hear you. I do. But it isn’t that easy. I’ve spent my whole life working towards something.”

  “Becoming a judge?” He frowns. “Stephanie told me,” I supply, and he nods. “But what’s the point in achieving something when you don’t want it?”

  He sighs again and rolls onto his back. “You’re right. I know you are. I just…I don’t know how to say no to this. The pieces are all in place. If I pull out now, I’ll embarrass my father. I don’t want to do that.”

  “So, to save him some embarrassment, you’d rather a lifetime in a career you hate?”

  With an empty laugh, he sits up and hangs his legs over the side of the bed, the muscles in his back flexing. “It is what it is, Katrina. No sense fighting over it.” He pulls on a pair of trackpants, walking out of the room.