Pants On Fire

by Lacey Black

  “Well, I’ll leave you two for the night. I’m sure we’ll see each other at the game. Hey, maybe we can meet in the restaurant for breakfast first. Say eight o’clock? I think we’re supposed to be at the stadium by ten.”

  “Oh,” I start, but stop, not really sure how to answer that. Do I want to have breakfast with my ex? Hell to the no. Do I want to have breakfast with my ex, while also having breakfast with my fake boyfriend who just so happens to be his former roommate and friend? Fuck that.

  “That sounds great,” Rueben replies, making my brain stutter to a halt.

  What?

  “Night, guys,” Danny says, throwing a wave over his shoulder and heading toward his room.

  I slip inside and am slapped upside the head with a familiar, sexy scent. The room smells like his cologne, and instantly, my heart starts to skip in my chest. I stand awkwardly in the little hall area by the bathroom door, unsure what to do. He waves me on and says, “You might as well stay for a little bit. You know he’ll be watching this room. Wait until we think he’s asleep and then you can sneak over to your room.”

  Good idea.

  Moving through the room and stopping by the little desk, I say, “Smart thinking. But I have to ask, breakfast?”

  He snorts. “You know he wouldn’t let it go. If it wasn’t this, then it would be drinks after the game or sitting together at the alumni dinner tomorrow. We have breakfast in the morning, and then he’ll run into his former teammates at the game and talk about the good ol’ days, forgetting all about us.”

  Seems simple enough. I’ve already endured an hour with the man, surely I could survive a quick breakfast in the morning, right?

  “Okay, I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it,” I grumble.

  Rueben grabs the remote and turns on the television. He finds a documentary on History Channel, which makes me happy. I love that channel. Not so much when I was younger, but the older I get, the more I appreciate learning about the events from our past, the things that made us who we are.

  “I’ve been wanting to see this,” I say, kicking off my shoes and crawling onto the top of the king-sized bed. My eyes remain glued to the screen.

  “Make yourself comfy. I’m gonna use the bathroom,” he says, disappearing into the small room off to the side, closing the door with a decisive click.

  I take a quick moment to scan the room. His clothes are hanging in the closet, and I spy a black suit for tomorrow night’s dinner. Truth be told, I’m a little anxious to see him in that bad boy. Back in school, he was a little lanky and lean, but now, with a little more muscle mass behind him, I’m quite certain he’ll fill out that suit very nicely.

  The rest of the room is well organized. I realize he hasn’t been here long, but I can see he’s already using the room. His laptop and a few other devices are sitting on the desk, an empty bottle of water tossed in the trash. There’s a pair of jeans and a shirt folded up and set on the chair; probably the clothes he had on for the flight earlier today. Everything else is straightened and clean, just as I’d picture his living space at home.

  I’m drawn back into the documentary about The White House. They’re discussing the bunkers and the underground systems surrounding the most secured building in the world. Rueben joins me a few minutes later, but chooses to take the chair. He tosses the clothes onto the desk chair and kicks off his shoes, before throwing his long legs up on the ottoman and relaxing. If he’s concerned about me making myself cozy on his bed, he doesn’t say anything. We watch the show in comfortable silence, yet I’m definitely aware of his presence. Occasionally, I feel his eyes on me, but I try to ignore the pull that calls for me to look his way.

  When the show ends and another one on the September 11th attacks begins, he gets up from his chair and goes to the mini-fridge. He pulls out two bottles of water and a package of peanut M&Ms. “Seriously? Gimme, gimme,” I beg, reaching my hand out and taking the candy.

  Rueben laughs as he hands over the cold chocolate and tosses a bottle of water onto the bed beside me. “I wasn’t sure if you were still a fan,” he says before taking his own drink of cold liquid.

  “Not sure I’m still a fan? These are the greatest candies in the history of the world, my friend,” I tell him, ripping open the bag and popping one into my mouth. “They’re delicious,” I say, slowly chewing and savoring the sweet and salty mix.

  “I brought a few snacks for the plane ride but didn’t eat them.”

  After popping a second piece into my mouth, I ask, “So you were saving them for the return flight home? And I’m eating them?” I don’t even care that I’m talking with my mouth full.

  He shrugs. “Eat anything you want. I can grab more at the airport. There’s some Twizzlers in my bag somewhere too,” he says, rooting around in his computer bag and coming back with a large zippered bag of licorice candy.

  Rueben pulls a stick from the bag and throws it at me. “I should travel with you. You have the best snacks,” I tell him casually, but notice that my heart kicks up a few extra beats at the prospect of traveling alongside him.

  “So now the truth comes out! You’re using me for my snacks,” he teases, shoving half a Twizzlers in his mouth and smiling as he chews.

  I reach for the one he threw at me. “You caught me. I’m only here for your snacks.”

  And because you’re an amazing kisser and I wouldn’t mind doing that again.

  Shaking that thought off, I focus my attention back on the TV screen. Between the M&Ms and the licorice that is thrown my way, I find myself completely relaxed and enjoying the evening. My eyes start to get heavy as the show continues, breaking down the events that transpired on that September morning in 2001. Every once in a while, I hear Rueben adjust in his chair. I should probably offer to trade place so he can stretch out on his own bed. Of course, the bed is a king, so there’s definitely enough room for us both.

  I also realize the coast is probably clear in the hallway. It’s been more than an hour since I joined Rueben in his hotel room, and if Danny’s still awake, I’m sure he’s not looking at the peephole, waiting for someone to walk by his room. I should definitely head to my room, take off my makeup, and snuggle up in bed in a nightshirt and all four pillows.

  It’s so nice and cozy here, though, too.

  Maybe I’ll head over in just a few more minutes…

  Chapter Six

  Rueben

  I know the instant she falls asleep.

  It’s like I’m hyperaware of her and can sense the change in her breathing pattern. She’s more relaxed now, almost angelic as her long brown hair hangs loosely in big waves around my pillow. Her mouth falls open just the slightest and every once in a while, a little snore slips past her lips. She’s simply the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

  I sit in the chair for another hour, pretending to watch the program on TV, but really, I’m just watching her. The way she mumbles in her sleep and moves her mouth—a mouth that I’ve now tasted and can’t stop thinking about. Cricket curls up on her side, facing me, and hugs the pillow. I’m sure it’s clear for her to head back to her own hotel room, but honestly, I don’t want her to go. Not only is she completely comfortable right where she is, but I like having her here. I want her here.

  The whole scene tonight at Slim’s was crazy. I knew the moment I walked out of the restroom and saw Danny talking to her that something was up. As I weaved my way through the growing crowd, a former classmate stopped me. We were in a computer class together and he wanted to know what I’d been up to these last ten years. I didn’t want to be rude, so I stayed a chatted for a little bit, all while keeping an eye on Cricket and Danny.

  I knew the moment he said something to upset her. Her body tensed and her spine straightened. He was smiling that cocky smirk and she took a step back, his hand reaching out to touch her arm. I was hollering a goodbye and a talk to you soon a split second later, making my way back to where I left my friend. Though I don’t know the exact conversation, th
e first thing I heard when I was within earshot was her insistence that she did have a date. The next thing I knew, I was him and she was practically launching herself into my arms.

  And kissing me.

  Best. Fucking. Kiss. Ever.

  My heart still pounds in my chest and my cock starts to harden when I think about it. And believe me, I’ve done a lot of thinking about it. I’ve been in a perpetual state of arousal since that moment, which is probably why it was so easy to go along with her little white lie. We’re not in a relationship, but I’m willing to pretend we are just to get closer to her. Is it right? Probably not, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about her in more than a friendly fashion, even if what she’s asking of me is because of our friendship.

  My own eyelids start to droop, and I’m torn. It’s way past my usual bedtime, let alone throwing air travel in the mix. Cricket’s day has been a mirror image of my own and she needs rest. Yet, all I want to do is stay up and watch her sleep like some crazy stalker.

  I should wake her up, send her back to her room. I should crawl into bed and get my own rest.

  Yet, I don’t.

  I sit here for a few more minutes and just take in her beauty.

  Eventually, I move, pulling off my socks—because I hate sleeping in socks—and crawl onto my bed. It’s a king-sized mattress; should be plenty of room for two friends to rest and maintain their distance. I’ve made a decision, one I’m not sure whether it’s right or wrong. She’s tired and I don’t want to disturb her. So, I’ll let her sleep.

  Sticking to the edge of the bed, I roll to my side and continue to watch her. Cricket would probably be freaked out if she knew how much of a voyeur I’ve been, but that’s a small price to pay. I don’t want to miss a single moment, not one mumble or snore or eye flutter. After this weekend’s over, I’ll have those memories locked deep inside my brain to carry with me for the rest of my life. Memories of just her and the time I’ll always wish “could have been more.”

  Because even though this is new and probably just a case of haven’t-seen-you-in-forever-itis, I can’t help but feel that this friendship could easily become something more.

  It’s a troubling thought, as I drift off to sleep, especially when those two people have lives several states apart.

  A relationship isn’t possible.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  ***

  I startle awake.

  I’m lying on my side, my arm stretched forward and completely numb. The scent of fruit is strong and there’s a tickle against my nose. Blinking rapidly, I focus on the beach scene painting on the wall and realize I’m in my hotel room. My bed.

  And I’m not alone.

  Brown hair is splayed across the pillow, my cheek, and my arm—you know, the numb one—and my mind instantly returns to last night. Watching the documentary, then watching her sleep. I was just going to lie down for a few minutes. I didn’t even get beneath the covers. Neither of us did. We fell asleep side by side, on opposite ends of the king-sized bed, actually. Yet, here we are, entangled and cuddling, her ass pressed firmly against my very hard, very ready to play morning wood.

  I know I should move. This is not how friends embrace first thing in the morning. Hard-ons don’t usually factor into friendly sleepovers. Actually, that’s an incredibly true statement. My last friendly sleepover was in eighth grade with Henry Forrester, and my usual teenage hormonal morning wood didn’t even make an appearance that sunny morning.

  But now? With Cricket snuggled into my side and her sweet ass pressed against my cock? Oh, it’s very ready to play. More ready than the first-round draft in his first NFL appearance. Sure, there’s a little bit of nerves there, but excitement and anxiousness reign supreme. And my dick is very excited.

  It doesn’t help that her subtle fragrance of fruit is penetrating my senses like the front infantry line crossing over into enemy territory. Sweet strawberries and pineapple slides into my nostrils and wrap around my brain, sending shockwaves of lust straight to my groin. I’m in a conundrum of hurt right now. I’m her friend and should keep my distance, yet I can’t seem to get my brain on board with that plan.

  I just…want her.

  Cricket moves in my arms, wiggling that delectable ass against my cock and pressing her back farther into my chest. A little sigh slips from her lips as she relaxes once more. I wish I were facing her so I can see the contentment and serenity in her beautiful face while she sleeps. Last night I was treated to such a sight, but now, as morning light filters through the cracks of the curtains, I wish I could see her, committing it to memory too.

  My time to lie here and just feel is coming to an end. I know it. Cricket shifts once more, her cheek pushed into the soft flesh of my inner upper arm. Her breathing is picking up a bit, not nearly as relaxed in sleep as it was a few moments ago. Now is the time to move, to dislodge my eager dick from where the crack of her ass is snug in those tight jeans, but I don’t change quick enough. She shakes her ass once more against me, as if riding my cock, and I have to stifle my groan of pleasure. Well, of pleasure and frustration together, because even in my sex-fogged brain, I know this moment isn’t going to end the way my dick wants.

  A moan glides from her lips, sending shockwaves of desire through my blood, a moment before she stills and tenses. Cricket is awake, and can clearly feel how awake I am too.

  “Rueben?” she whispers, her voice hoarse with sleep.

  “Yeah,” I reply, clearing my throat and pushing all thoughts of morning sex from my mind. This is my friend, not my girlfriend, even if that’s the gig of the weekend.

  She doesn’t say anything for a few very long seconds, but doesn’t move either. She’s still pressed against me, our bodies way too close to keep those dirty thoughts at bay, at least on my part.

  Grandma, grandma, grandma, grandma.

  “What time is it?” she asks. Still. Not. Moving.

  I look at the nightstand—the one that’s directly in front of her face— and reply, “Six forty-five.”

  “Wow, I never sleep past four thirty, even on my day off,” she says, almost absently.

  Truth be told, I’ve never slept this soundly, this comfortably in all my life either. I’ve also never been a big snuggler. When a past girlfriend would stay over, I’d prefer to have my space. I’m a warm sleeper and the last thing I want is to wake all hot and sweaty, tangled in sheets and limbs. But with Cricket in my arms? I woke more rested and content than ever before.

  Back to the problem at hand—or specifically, in my pants—I roll to my back and slide my arm out from under her head. Cricket sits up, adjusting her position on the bed and glances around the room. I, on the other hand, throw my legs over the bed and keep my back to her. I wish I could say not seeing her affects the hardness of my dick, but that would be a lie. It seems to remember exactly what it felt like to have her pressed against it and refuses to deflate.

  “Um, sorry about not waking you. I meant to just lie down for a bit and let you sleep, but I must have dozed off,” I tell her, striving for casual, yet hearing the sexual strain in my voice.

  “It’s okay. I mean, nothing happened,” she replies, chuckling awkwardly.

  “Yep, nothing happened. Just two friends sleeping in the same bed,” I confirm, though my dick jumping in my pants is a reminder of how much he liked the whole sleeping in the same bed part.

  Unfortunately for him, he’s going to be unhappy with this morning’s outcome. There will be no sex.

  I feel his disappointment.

  “Um, so I should probably go to my room and get ready,” she says, the bed dipping when she stands up.

  “Yeah, we have breakfast in just over an hour.” The upcoming breakfast with Danny is like a cold glass of water thrown on my libido.

  “Oh, shit. I forgot. What if he sees me going back into my room?” she asks, looking delightfully mussed in her post-sleep appearance.

  Her question is a legit one. If he comes out of his room and
sees her sneaking into hers, then he’ll definitely know she lied about our relationship status, or at least about sharing a room. Then I’m afraid it’ll be worse for her than before. He’ll never let it go and will probably tell everyone who’ll stand long enough to listen to him that his ex made up a boyfriend.

  I can’t let that happen.

  “I’ll sneak in,” I find myself stating.

  “What? How? Won’t that be just as bad if he finds me?”

  I shake my head. “No, I’ll come up with some excuse, like maybe a work client meeting or something.”

  She seems to consider the options. “But then I’ll have to shower and get ready here. We don’t have a lot of time before breakfast.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “We’ll make it work.”

  There’s definite hesitation when she says, “I guess that would be all right.”

  “Great. Give me your keycard and I’ll be right back.”

  She heads over to her little purse and pulls the plastic card from within. “I’ll need all of my bathroom toiletries too. I had already unpacked everything.”

  “I’ll grab it all,” I tell her, our fingers grazing against each other’s when I take the card. “It’ll be okay, Crick.”

  She nods and lets go, severing our touch once more.

  Needing a little air and a lot of distance, I quietly exit my room, the door making a distinctive noise when it shuts. Ignoring the fact that a beautiful, sexy woman is still in my room, I move quickly and softly through the empty hallway, to her door, and scan the card. The light flashes green and I’m inside a moment later. I sigh in relief at not getting busted by Danny and then groan as her familiar scent assaults me. Everywhere I look, I see Cricket. Her clothes, her reading device on the bedside table, that familiar bottle of lotion on the dresser.