by M. J. Fields
“Never said I was going home; you assumed.”
I run to catch up with her. “And Carla? What the hell—”
“Trust me, purely coincidental. We worked together on Thanksgiving and the day before.”
“You working in the cafeteria now?”
“At a shelter downtown.”
I shake my head and laugh.
“What?”
“You are something, Jamie G.”
“Don’t pick on me. It’s what I’d be doing if I had gone home. Good for the soul.”
“Your parents didn’t make you come home?”
She stops and sighs. “Jesus doesn’t do first-class, and I didn’t wanna sit on a bus for four days to spend one at home.”
“Why didn’t you go with one of your roommates?”
“Oh, and don’t tell them. They think I went home, too.”
“So, you lied to your ‘squad’?”
“No, I just didn’t mention it. No big deal.”
“Elle lives close.”
She smiles. “And Elle hasn’t invited any of us back to her place. We’re school squad.”
I nod. “Totally understand keeping shit from home at home.”
“Speaking of, why are you back so soon?”
Fuck.
“Your father?”
“He’s on the wagon.”
“That’s good.”
“It’s fucking annoying. He acts like he wasn’t a piece of shit my entire life.”
“You have any room for forgiveness in your heart?”
Don’t wanna touch that with a ten-foot pole.
“You have room on that sled for an expert?” I snag it away from her and run up the hill.
Jamie
“Sleigh bells ring; are you listening?”
“Have been for three wonderful minutes,” he calls back to me as he pulls me on the sled behind him.
“In the lane, snow is glistening.”
“Don’t know this one, either.” He laughs.
“How do you not know any Christmas—” I stop when I realize, as much as I resent the way I was raised at times, I have two parents who looked out for me.
He looks back. “I know some Santa shit and that one we were supposed to sing.”
I smile. “We still can.”
“Okay.” He nods. “Okay, cool.”
He stops and nods toward a café. “Best hot chocolate around. Let’s get warmed up.”
He holds the door open, and I walk inside the empty café. “Thank you, kind sir.”
He rolls his eyes and pulls my snow-covered white hat off my head, smiling as big as the moon.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “You’re fucking adorable.”
“Wait. I used to be va-va-voom, and now I’m adorable?”
“You’re all bundled, covered in snow, lips are blue. I’m not thinking of licking you right now. I’m thinking of warming you up.”
“Good, because we aren’t kittens; therefore, we do not lick each other.” I look around and spot the bathroom. “I’m gonna use—”
“Go. I’ll get our drinks.”
I walk into the bathroom and hurry into a stall. I can’t stop smiling. I really feel like we can truly be friends, but I don’t dare wish for more. I’m learning there are a few things that you carry through life: friends, true friends, and firsts.
But still … Moore.
Smiling as I wash my hands, I look up and see that I am a hot—no, cold—mess. “Holy shit.”
I reach in my pocket for my hat, remembering it’s not in there. He has it.
I try my best to make sense of my hair’s mess, and when I can’t, I decide there isn’t much I can do.
I walk out and see him at a table, hot cocoa steaming in front of him.
He lifts his chin and smiles.
I look around, thankful the only other people here are behind the counter. “Could I get my hat?”
He smirks, that kind of smirk that makes all things … perky, and shakes his head slowly back and forth.
“Just so you know, you’re not being cute. I saw my hair in the mirror and—”
“Not trying to be cute, Jamie G. I just really love your hair when it’s—”
“A shit show?”
He shakes his head, looking at my mess, and licks his lips. “Real, perfect, sexy, a huge turn-on.” He looks back down into my eyes, and his eyes are clearly saying, I’m not playin’.
I pick my chocolate drink up and take a sip to cool me or heat me, or … hell, I don’t know.
“Don’t even get me started on your pussy.”
I cover my mouth, so I don’t spray him with a mouthful of hot as hell chocolate, and he smiles.
“You good?”
I look behind me. “Oh my God, did you really just say that … in public?”
He lets out a deep breath and hands me a napkin. “Rather show you in private.”
“Hey,” I snap at him. “We’re friends, remember? Friends with a common interest in—”
“Each other.”
I look down as I wipe my hands and shake my head. “We already screwed that up.”
“On my list of top ten fuck-ups, that ranks way up there as a my bad. I would change it if I could. You just gotta find a way to forgive me, so I can forgive myself.”
Still looking down, I shrug. “Cuddle season’s almost over.”
“Is it?” he asks, and I look up. He takes a drink and licks the foam from his lips. “Huh.”
I sit back and look at him. “You know what scares me?”
“Clearly not walking around by yourself at night.”
I smile and shake my head. “Someone who’s already become important enough to me to share secrets with that no one else knows to end up disliking me. So, I’m good with friends, and I hope that’s okay with you.”
“What if it’s not?” he asks, dead serious.
After a few minutes, I look down. “You’re angry, Mitch.”
“Not at you.”
“But, what if you are again? What if we have a disagreement and you go and …?” I shake my head and cover my belly because I feel sick from nerves and memories.
“You can look me in the eye and tell me to fuck off, and I’ll leave you alone. But don’t lie to yourself, Jamie. The connection was immediate. Maybe it should have gone slower. Maybe—”
“I don’t want to disrespect you, hurt you, or judge you, but you really have a lot going on with the girl at Logan’s, with your anger toward your grandmother, your father, and—”
“Understood. But tell me what any one of those things has to do with you and me.”
I blow out a slow breath and try to come up with a way to spare him his feelings and not ruin a friendship that I hope continues for a long time.
“Okay, I get the Keeka thing may cause a few bumps, but the other stuff is in the past.”
I nod, and he rolls his eyes.
“Can we go back to ten minutes ago, Mitch? Because this seems to be heading in a really bad direction.”
He nods. “Sure.”
“Is that the male version of the female fine?”
He shakes his head and smiles softly. He takes another drink of his chocolate, closing his eyes as he swallows, affording me the opportunity to watch his Adam’s apple bob.
He opens his eye and raises both brows. “Something wrong?”
I shake my head. “You really like hot chocolate, huh?”
He looks away and smirks.
“How did you just turn that into something dirty?”
He leans in. “I didn’t, but I like the way you think, friend.”
The rest of the time in the café, we basically just stare at one another. I’m not sure I will ever get enough of merely being in his presence. He’s sexy, so sexy. Like, not just his looks, but to his soul. Gaw! I mean, how do you describe it without sounding like a cliché? He pays attention to every simple move I make. His eyes seem to be everywhere all at once. I legit
feel like I am the only person in the room every time I’m around him, except that one time at the restaurant, and he proved me wrong there. I never thought I’d be an attention whore, but for his attention … well, yeah, I’ve done some things. He simply radiates heat from my crazy hair that he seriously likes—I can see it in his eyes—to the tip of my toes, which could be frostbitten right now for all I know.
Now I’ve been looking at his ass for a solid five minutes as he insisted I ride in the sled. I’ll not argue that again. Let’s be realistic here, black men normally have nicer asses than white men, but his ass is black-man fine.
“Hey you?” I call from behind him.
He looks back.
“Big white marshmallow in the sky, tallest building on campus, total opposite direction.”
“You’re not staying there alone.”
“I did last night, and look, here I am.”
He shakes his head and turns back around, dragging me all the way to South Campus.
The house is dark when we get there.
He put his finger over his lips. “Shh …”
“Who’s here?” I whisper.
“No one this morning, but Logan’s truck is out there, so we’re not alone. No worries, okay?”
“Why would I worry?”
He walks us into his room and flicks on the light. He’s grinning.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Good damn thing.” He reaches out, picks me up, swinging me around as I smile down at him, and he sets me on the bed.
He kneels down in front of me and pulls off my boot. “Do you not own winter boots?” he asks, peeling off my soaked socks. “Your feet are cold as ice but super fucking tiny and cute.” He unzips his jacket then pulls up his hoodie before putting my feet on his abs. “Jesus.”
“My feet are size eight, not tiny. I own winter boots, but they’re soaked from yesterday still. And, what the hell are you doing?” I laugh, pulling my foot back.
He holds it still. “Leave it.”
“You’ll catch a chill.”
“Jamie G, I’m two hundred and thirty-two pounds of man, who’s been pulling a buck-ten of serenading sunshine through the snow. I’m good. Leave it.”
“I’m a buck thirty,” I correct him.
He pulls off my other boot and sock, smiling. “Yeah, I forgot about the twenty pounds of ass you’ve got behind you.”
I flop backward as he rubs his hands over the tops of my feet. “Kill me now.”
He chuckles and stands, my feet still against his abs. He looks down at me, and his nose flares.
I dig my toes into his skin. “You’re about half an inch from crossing the line.”
“Add another nine to that before you need to worry your pretty, little feet about me slamming my way into that tight, little friendship circle.”
Fuck me. I mean, Fuck. Me.
He drags me along with him as he walks to the end of the bed. Then he reaches back to his dresser and pulls out a pair of socks.
I laugh. “Are those monkey socks?”
“What the fuck are monkey socks?” He laughs back at me.
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“These are socks that you put on your feet to keep them warm. They aren’t supposed to look cute.”
I laugh as he puts them on my feet.
He reaches out and says, “Give me your paw.”
I hold my hand out, and he pulls me up, my butt sliding closer to him, my feet rising up his shirt and onto his shoulders. His eyes get heavier as they lock onto mine.
“Mitch,” I whisper, realizing what could actually happen right now.
“You’re really fucking flexible.”
“I’m gonna have to ask you to please not kiss me.”
A smile creeps up on his face and quickly turns into a grin. “She wants me.”
I pull my hands free and flop back. “You’re torturing me on purpose.”
“Touché.” He laughs and sets my feet on the bed as my wicked thoughts and wet panties sink farther into the mattress shamefully.
He steps back and walks to his closet. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
“A deal?” I ask.
“I promise not to take away your innocence or even try to until cuddle season’s over if you lay off the no-kissing bullshit.” He turns around with a hoodie. “I really fucking like kissing you.”
“Deal,” pops out of my mouth before I even have a chance to think.
“Even if you beg.” He steps to the side of the bed.
“What makes you think I’m going to—”
He pulls me up and kisses me hard, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I suck on it greedily.
My zipper’s down, and he keeps kissing me as he pulls my arms out of my sleeves.
“So fucking wet,” he says against my lips.
“You have no idea,” I admit against his.
When he stops kissing me, I feel his smile grow, and he laughs, I pull back and look at him.
He doesn’t say a word as he tugs on the thin material of my … wet, long-sleeved Tee-shirt.
“That’s what I was talking about.”
“Liar.” He laughs and kisses me silly again as he pulls my shirt off, stopping to pull it over my head.
He looks down at my bra. “White and red, that’s all you should wear. So fucking hot against your skin.”
My heart is beating so hard against my chest as he looks at me the way he did before we made it messy, but with so much more … need.
“Arms up, or I’m gonna have no choice but to fuck your tits.” When I hesitate, he looks at me, mouth agape, and snaps it shut. In a low, gravelly voice, he says, “I’m trying to be solid here.”
I nod and throw my hands in the air. “Right.”
He pulls the hoodie over my head, then walks beside me and sighs as he faceplants into the bed.
“Sorry?”
He laughs and turns his head to look at me. “Don’t be. Seriously, I just like having you here.”
“I kind of really like being here, too,” I admit.
“Good, because I’m gonna make you chill with me for the rest of the weekend.”
“Maybe I have plans.”
“Yeah?” He smirks. “What plans do you have?”
Shit.
“Spill it.”
“Well, Sunday, I have plans.”
“Big date?”
“Church and lunch with a new friend?”
“Why do you answer with a question when you think it’s gonna piss me off?”
“’Cause it might?”
“There you go again. Just spill it.”
“Carla, she invited me to lunch.”
“Carla invited you to lunch?”
I nod. “She used to have Saturdays off to watch your games. Someone asked her to switch and gave her Sundays since the season’s over now. She’s pretty excited about it since Monday is her RDO.” I nod again. “Yeah. So, I told her I liked the female minister at Hendricks, and she said she hadn’t been in a while, and maybe she would check it out.”
“All this while working at a shelter?”
“Six a.m. to six p.m.”
“That’s pretty cool, I guess.”
“You should come.”
He shakes his head. “Place would fall in.”
“Oh, come on, it still stood when I walked in.”
“Because, despite the licks and lustful thoughts, Jamie G, you’re an angel.”
“Well, you’re one, too.”
“Far from it.”
“Well, maybe—”
“So, I was thinking, tomorrow, we’re going ice skating.”
I laugh nervously. “That’s a horrible idea.”
“I may not look the part, but I can skate.”
“I may look the part, but I never have.”
He smiles. “Good. I can’t wait to teach you.”
He pushes up off the bed. “Get some sleep. We’ll head out as soon as the
y open.”
“Where are you going?”
“Taking the couch.”
“Oh no, you aren’t.”
“Either that, or I’ll be fondling your titties in my sleep.”
He leans over and kisses my forehead. “Sleep well, Jamie.”
“You, too.”
Mitch
“Why the fuck are you on the couch?”
I sit up when I see Logan. “When did you get back?”
“Last night.”
“I thought—”
“Gonna cancel cuddle season with Elle.”
“You serious?” I ask.
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“No. But, what the fuck?”
“Don’t want to talk about it. But I’m done.”
“Why?”
“What part of I don’t want to talk about it do you not understand?” he snaps.
“Look, man, I know you’ve been through some shit lately, but you dragged my ass into this, too, so an explanation is a reasonable request.”
“What do you care? You’re on the couch.”
“Because she’s a good person and maybe—”
“Whatever. And don’t say shit to Jamie. I wanna be the one to.”
“That’s putting me in a fucked-up position.”
He points at the couch. “More fucked up than this?”
My fucking blood boils as I sit there, trying to talk myself out of wringing his fucking neck as he walks in his room.
I hear a door creak and look down the hall. I hear footsteps and see Jamie rubbing her eyes as she walks toward the kitchen.
“You okay?” I ask, standing.
“Thirsty,” she mumbles.
I walk to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water out of the fridge, open it, and hand it to her.
She yawns and stretches.
I watch my sweatshirt ride up to just above her knees, socks just about to them. “You look really damn good.”
She rolls her eyes as she takes a drink. She swallows it and looks up at me, blinking as her eyes adjust to the light coming from the fridge.
“Why are you awake?”
“Heard little footsteps.”
She squints at me. “You’re wide awake.” She takes my hand, kicks the fridge door shut with her monkey sock covered feet, and pulls me toward my room.
“What are you doing?”
“You can’t sleep on the couch, clearly. So just don’t, you know.”
