by Hazel Kelly
I walked over and took a seat on one of the barstools so I could keep him company while he laid the frozen taquitos lengthways on the pan, watching as he closed one of his drunken eyes to ensure that they were evenly spaced.
“Do you want me to do the nachos?” I asked.
His eyes looked up at me, but he kept his head down. “I want you to just sit there and look pretty.”
“I said I would though.”
“You need to concentrate on your drinking,” he said. “You still have a ways to go to catch up to me.”
“True,” I said, lifting my beer to my lips.
I watched him grab some cheese and jalapenos out of the fridge before pulling an unopened bag of Tostito’s scoops from one of the cabinets.
“Scoops!” I said. “Scoops are my favorite.”
He laughed. “I know. You explained their merits to me at length one night, and ever since then all the other tortilla chips seem horribly ineffective.”
“Did I?” I tilted my head. “I don’t remember that.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to. It was the first night I ever saw you drink cheap vodka straight from the bottle.”
I felt my eyes go wide. “When was that?”
He dumped some chips on a plate. “Around the time your first fake got taken away.”
I shook my head. “What a rip off that thing was.”
He laughed. “I thought you made a good Monica Applebottom.”
“Shut up.”
“What were you supposed to be? Thirty-two?”
“Twenty-eight. From West Virginia.”
“Oh, yeah.” Aiden pulled a knife out of the drawer and sunk it into the block of cheddar.
I was pretty sure I couldn’t see that much better than he could, but the slices he was cutting were as thick as his fingers and liable to choke someone who’d had as much Jack as he had.
“Let me do that,” I said, sliding down from the barstool and walking around the counter.
“Are you just being nice or do you think I can’t melt cheese on chips?”
“I’m being nice,” I lied, nudging him out of the way.
He handed me the knife before scooting to the side and grabbing his beer. After he took a sip, he slipped the taquitos in the preheated oven and resumed leaning against the counter beside me.
“Can I help you?” I asked, feeling his eyes on me.
“No, I’m good,” he said. “Just watching.”
I laid the thin slices of cheese over the top of the chips and went to the sink to wash the peppers. I gave them a quick rinse and looked over my shoulder. “Do you have a paper towel or something?”
Aiden handed one over my shoulders and I grabbed it, drying the peppers over the sink. When I turned around, he was standing right in front of me and my heart jumped in my throat.
For a second, he just looked at me, and I stared back at him for what felt like five minutes but was probably closer to five seconds. He was making a face I’d never seen him make before, and if it had been any other guy on the planet, I would’ve recognized it as the universal, “I’m going to kiss you now face.”
But it was Aiden. And it was me. Making nachos. I needed to get a grip.
“Can I use the bathroom?” I asked, laying the peppers down on the counter and excusing myself.
He didn’t say anything as I disappeared around the corner.
By the time I closed the bathroom door behind me, I was out of breath.
I looked in the mirror and smacked my cheeks. I was freaking out for no reason. After that many drinks, I should’ve been relaxed, not agitated.
I was just making a snack with my best friend after a drinking session, or mid drinking session if I didn’t ruin our good time. It was nothing out of the ordinary and something we’d done hundreds of times. I was supposed to be a friendly distraction and nothing more.
So why the hell was I so flustered and thinking inappropriate thoughts about his fingers and reading into everything like a total nut case? How many times did he have to tell me that he just wanted me to hang out and look pretty before I believed him?
The guy just broke up with his girlfriend for chrisssakes!
Chapter 12: Aiden
I should’ve kissed her. Why did I hesitate?
If it had been any other woman, I wouldn’t have stared at her like that. I would’ve gone for it and dealt with the consequences.
What the hell was my problem?
And what the hell was she thinking?! That I was drunk? That I didn’t know what I was doing?
I grabbed the peppers and sliced the tops off, turning the knife around the inside to remove the seeds.
I needed to get a grip and make a move. So what if she laughed in my face? I had to know if she tasted like cake, if her mouth could be as soft as it could be hard. And I wasn’t so drunk that I didn’t know what I was doing.
Sure, I knew that she was my best friend, that she probably didn’t look at me that way. But there was only one way to find out, and I wasn’t going to make the mistake of asking politely. She wasn’t that kind of girl. She fell for guys who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to go for it.
Not that I wanted her to fall for me or anything. I wasn’t thinking anywhere near that far ahead. I just wanted to kiss her, just to see what it was like, just to satisfy my curiosity before it became too much.
Because if I didn’t think of an excuse to lay my hands on her body, I felt like I might never relax again.
I took a deep breath and started slicing the peppers.
It had to be tonight. After all, I was drunker than she was which meant I stood the best chance of getting away with it. If she thought I was being a cheeky bastard, she’d just slap me, and we could both laugh about it later. However, if she was tipsy enough to kiss me back…
“You’re doing a good job with that,” she said, peering over the counter. “I don’t know why I doubted you.”
I looked up and smiled. “Thanks,” I said, wincing. “But I think you spoke too soon.”
“Are you okay?”
“Shit,” I said, holding up my hand.
“What is it?”
I looked at my finger. A second later, a thin line of blood began seeping through my skin.
“Damn it, Aiden,” Lucy said, coming around the counter. “You should’ve waited for me to do it.”
I started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, grabbing my wrist and looking at the damage.
“It’s such a little cut,” I said, a tear springing to my eyes from laughing so hard. “But it burns like a bitch.”
“You’re an idiot,” she said, marching me over to the sink.
She turned the water on and held my finger under the tap. When she moved it, it started to bleed right away. “From now on, we get take out when we’re drinking.”
“Agreed,” I said.
“Do you have any band aids?” she asked.
“You mean I’m not going to lose the finger?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re going to lose your tongue if you don’t stop laughing.”
I held my hand over the sink and pointed to a cabinet by the fridge. “Above the microwave.”
I watched her go to the cabinet and lift up on her tippy toes. When she reached for the band aids, her shirt lifted just enough that I could see a strip of her skin.
I swallowed.
She walked back over to me, keeping her eyes on the box of band aids while she pulled a few out. “Do you want Batman or Spiderman?”
“Is there no more Superman?” I asked, pretending to pout.
She groaned and dug her thin fingers inside the box. “Ah-hah,” she said, pulling out a Superman band aid.
I held my finger out in front of her and watched as she wrapped the cartoon bandage around it. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” she said, lifting the box of band aids off the counter. “I feel like it’s kind of my fault for leaving you alone with the knife and the pe
ppers.”
“Lucy.”
She looked up at me, her breath catching in her throat.
Then, before she could say anything, I lifted my hand and dragged my thumb across her cheekbone, sliding my palm against the side of her neck.
She froze when I touched her, neither blinking nor breathing.
I searched her eyes for a moment before lowering my gaze to her parted lips and kissing them, pressing my mouth against hers softly enough that she could’ve pulled away.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she inhaled, and I felt the breath she sucked into her lungs move past my lips and fill her with the energy she needed to kiss me back. I slid my other hand around her waist just under her shirt, a waist I had only ever held before to help her hop fences or for brief moments at school dances. But it was different this time because there was nothing between my rough hand and her silky skin.
I slipped my tongue in her open mouth and swirled it around hers, tasting my best friend for the first time and feeling her go slack in my arms as I did so.
I willed her to put her hands on me, to run them up my chest, but she seemed too overwhelmed by my kiss.
And it only made me want to overwhelm her more.
I dropped my hand from her cheek and scrunched the bottom of her shirt in my fists, eager to see the breasts I’d been thinking about since she bent over in the salon. But as soon as I started to lift it up, her hands came down on mine and pushed them away.
I craned my neck back and looked at her.
Her eyes were wide and her face was white except for her pink lips. “I have to go,” she said, backing away from me.
“No, you don’t,” I said. “Stay.”
“No, I really need to,” she said, grabbing her purse.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, I just got carrie-”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, avoiding eye contact. “I just forgot I have to do something.”
“What?! What are you talking about? Wait! Lucy!”
She stuffed her feet back in her shoes without untying the laces and slipped out the door.
“I said I was sorry,” I called, swinging my front door open just in time to see the staircase doors closing.
I couldn’t believe it. She was in such a hurry she didn’t even wait for the elevator.
I closed the door and slammed my fist against it. “Goddamnit!”
What the fuck was her problem? I couldn’t have been any gentler.
And the truth was I wasn’t sorry I did it. I was only sorry she hadn’t given in to me.
Cause I thought she was going to. I really did, especially after she’d let me press right up against her and explore her mouth with my tongue. That was a fucking green light as far as I was concerned, and I never would’ve stopped there if she hadn’t fled like a goddamn Okie.
Worst of all, kissing her had been more amazing than I ever imagined it could be. I mean, I thought it would be fun, but the way she felt in my hands, the way she tasted...
It wasn’t like kissing my sister at all. Not that I’d ever kissed my sister, not like that anyway. And it wasn’t like kissing a friend either.
On the contrary, there were sparks, and everything that was familiar about her seemed to disappear in that moment until…
No, I definitely wouldn’t have stopped there.
So why did she?
Chapter 13: Lucy
I’d never wanted sleep to overwhelm me more in my whole life.
But every time I tried to squeeze my eyes shut, I saw him making that face at me, that face I’d wanted him to make at me for over ten years followed by a kiss I was convinced was never coming.
But it came, and it was amazing.
And yet, it wasn’t the kiss I wanted.
I wanted a rough kiss, a sloppy kiss, a drunken, slobbery kiss, but I couldn’t use any of those words to describe the kiss he’d planted on me. I wanted the kind of kiss that I could laugh off or tease him over, a kiss I could make light of.
A kiss that wouldn’t haunt me and keep me awake at night.
Instead, I got a gentle kiss, one that was deliberate, intentional, almost choreographed in its perfection. And as hard as I tried, I couldn’t find anything funny about it.
On the contrary, he was dead serious. He might’ve been drunk, but he knew what he was doing. He’d even had an out after he made that stupid face the first time. That was his chance to cop on and get a hold of himself.
But he was so fucking stubborn. He must’ve gotten the idea in his head and been unable to let go of it. And it was really freaking me out.
Where the hell did he learn to kiss like that?
For years, I’d been convincing myself that we were too good of friends for there to be anything more. But when he kissed me, it was like I didn’t even know him, like he became this mysterious hunk with nothing but secrets. For that brief moment, he wasn’t the cocky kid with the trampoline down the street. He was a goddamn kissing machine, and the thought of cooties never even crossed my mind.
Actually, nothing crossed my mind.
Once he laid his lips on mine, everything went blank. The whole world disappeared except for his hands on my cheek and my waist and his boozy wet tongue in my mouth.
In fact, I was rendered so incapable of thinking, I got totally swept up in the moment and kissed him back. And I can only assume it was the best damn kiss I’ve gotten in a while because it was the first time in a long time I wasn’t analyzing it while it was happening.
Normally, I had all kinds of thoughts like why can I feel your teeth? Or slow down there partner. Or please don’t splash around like that. Or I wonder if I remembered to record Raising Hope?
But when Aiden kissed me, it was just white noise and heat and energy and shock. And I felt like I hadn’t been able to breathe since I ran away.
However, in the back of my mind, I knew chances were that he was just drunk and horny and confused, and I shouldn’t get my hopes up.
After all, we had a friendship that was too great to risk, a shared history that was uniquely our own. Plus, I was supposed to be a friend to him tonight. I was supposed to be a shoulder to lean on post break up, not quick on the scene and eager to take advantage.
Then again, maybe I had it all wrong. Clearly he’d been willing to throw away everything we had for one night of fun.
But that didn’t mean I could. Even if he could keep sex separate from our friendship- which seemed unlikely- I was going to be the one that got hurt in the end.
It would be just like all the other times I thought something was going to happen between us, except it would hurt so much more because this time I would know what I was missing.
And I could tell by the way he kissed that there would be nothing funny about the way he fucked.
Thank god he reached for my shirt so I caught myself.
Cause at the end of the day, even if I could believe that we could have casual sex, I would never feel casual about him seeing me naked. Not because I was particularly self-conscious, but because of my scars.
He wouldn’t buy my barbed wire story. There’s no way something like that could’ve gotten past him, and I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me. There was nothing I hated more than being pitied by someone without my consent. My late teens were completely overrun with people pitying me for not having a Mom, and I never asked for their sympathy, their sad eyes, their pats on the back.
My Mom was sick. It’s not like she abandoned me. Fucking god abandoned her.
The point is, if Aiden pitied me for even a second when he realized the truth, if I saw so much as a flash of sympathy in his eyes, it would kill me.
After all, he’d always thought I was strong and tough, and I’d lost track of how many times his belief in me was enough to make me believe in myself.
No one night stand was worth losing his respect and admiration. No kiss was worth ruining how he looked at me.
I sat up and reached for the glass of water next
to my bed and drained it, desperate to sober up and calm my racing mind.
I just wanted to sleep.
But a fear was building up inside me, and that fear was that I would never be able to forget the way it felt to have him hold me like that, how it felt to be overwhelmed by his touch.
If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have left.
If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t be so confused.
If it were anyone else, I would be lying here thinking about how soon I could do it again.
And worst of all, even if I could put the whole thing out of my mind, that was only half the battle.
Cause I still wouldn’t know what the heck he was thinking.
Or what he thought about the fact that I freaked out?
Was he angry? Relieved?
Did he think I did the right thing?
How far would he have gone with me?
All the way?
Could I seriously believe that after all these years of our physical contact never escalating past playful tickling and aggressive arm wrestling that he would stick his… oh my god I couldn’t even say it much less think about it.
And then just like that, it was too late, and I was thinking about it.
What would it be like to be naked with my best friend?
To have him kiss me in places he was never meant to see?
To have the weight of his body rocking over me, filling me up?
For him to hear the noises I made when I was overcome by pleasure?
Was he really ready for all that?
Or was he just drunk and curious to see what he could get away with?
Because for fifteen years, I’d always craved more time with him, but maybe time wasn’t the only thing he wanted with me.
And that thought alone was the most exhilarating, terrifying prospect of all.
What if he wasn’t sorry? What if he’d meant that kiss to feel exactly how it felt- crazy, unhinged, and delicious in its inappropriateness.
What if he was lying awake now, too, and nothing would ever be the same?
Chapter 14: Aiden
I woke up in the morning and groaned as I opened my eyes. There was an empty space in the bed next to me, but it didn’t make me think of Chelsea.
