by C. A. Harms
“It hasn’t felt like it,” I speak against his neck, my words sounding muffled. “You seem pissed all the time, that or you’re avoiding me. I’m not sure what I did, but I wish you would tell me so that we can work on fixing this.”
“You didn’t do anything.” His arms wrap around me tightly as he holds me close. “I’ve just felt off lately.”
“Off how?”
“Work,” he explains though it doesn’t seem like a good enough explanation. I wait for him to continue. “Stress maybe? I don’t know, to be honest.”
Lifting my head, I look up at him, and he does something that surprises me. He grips my hips and raises me to bring my face closer to his. He stares back at me. A few silent seconds pass between us and everything about this moment feels so intimate. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as he cups my cheek. “I don’t want you to think I’m mad at you.” I nod, because, quite frankly, I still feel a bit floored by the position we are in, combined with the current look that is on his face. Is that lust splashed across his face? Whatever this is right now, it only manages to enhance the uncertainty. When his thumb skims over my jaw, grazing over the corner of my mouth, my breath hitches. “Let’s go out.”
“What?” I pull back, and his hand slips away from my cheek. Instantly, I regret the movement because it has interrupted the moment.
“Get our friends together and go out,” he clarifies. “We haven’t done that in a long time, and, honestly, I could use a distraction.”
For the first time in what feels like days, weeks even, he smiles at me hopefully. “Okay,” I agree, feeling like maybe this is a turning point in our reoccurring distance. “But I need to shower. Now that you’ve rubbed my ick all over you, you need to shower too.”
Again something flashes in his eyes that I haven’t seen before, but he doesn’t speak. Instead, he picks up the couch pillow that has fallen on the floor next to him and playfully bops me over the head with it as I attempt to scurry away.
“Hurry your ass up already,” he teases, still whacking me in the back as I try to move away from him. “And shave your legs because they feel like a porcupine.”
I make the mistake of turning around to look at him shockingly. He then swings and I take a pillow to the side of the head. The direct hit to my head inflicts laughter in him, that deep chuckle that I’ve missed so much.
“You need to shave your face, caveman.” Mine isn’t as good as his, and he knows it as he smiles triumphantly. That smile alone can melt me even when I am pissed or irritated with him. He may be my best friend, but Heather was right: You’d have to be dead if you didn’t feel some attraction for Dawson.
Dawson
It is time for me to stop moping, time to stop avoiding Reese. The girl is too much a part of my life, and even I have felt her absence over the last week or so. I can’t avoid her. How is avoiding her even possible when everything in my life revolves around her in some way? It has for as long as I can remember. She has been there in everything I do. Every choice I ever make, I subconsciously think of what Reese would say.
I guess I never realized it before . . . until now.
This attraction I have for her feels crippling at times, and I was stupid enough to think that if I remained distant, it would just go away. The only thing it manages to do is make me want her more. Make me crave her touch, desire the feel of her body pressed to mine. The fear I felt long ago has diminished and is now replaced with a need to know. To know if what I am feeling is something she’s feeling too.
Even as I sit at a high-top table surrounded by her friends and mine, she is all I can see. Her laughter rings out above all. Her smile is like a beacon of light I can’t ignore. I have never before been so aware of another’s person movements. So conscious of each shift. Each look. Each breath. It is almost like a switch has been flipped and the years of feeling nothing more than friendship no longer exist. It makes me wonder if the attraction has always been there, buried underneath the surface, hiding under the comfortable state we’ve lived in for so long.
“You gonna watch her all night ?” Kevin nudges my elbow with his own. “Or you planning to do something about the shit you feel finally?”
I look away from Reese who stands a few feet away laughing with Heather and another girl they invited along.
“I don’t know what you—”
“Bullshit,” he interrupts, tipping his beer back and finishing the last of its contents. “I see it. I’ve seen it, and you can keep pretending it isn't there, but let me assure you it’s written all over your face. Every time she walks into a room, it’s almost like you know without even looking. You gravitate to her, and I know you both think that it’s because you’ve known one another for so long, but I don’t buy that shit one bit. You feel something, and she feels something, so I’m just wondering when the two of you are gonna face it.”
“Is that Lance?” It is a question asked in Heather’s high pitched voice that gains my full attention.
I look up and find Reese, following her line of vision only to land on the asshole that kissed her in Mrs. Trolleys less than two weeks ago. He stands near the bar with a leggy blonde snuggled up to his side. The woman’s hands are all over him, his chest, and his ass, and he doesn’t appear to mind.
“What an asshole!” Heather exclaims as she takes a step in his direction but Reese stops her. I don’t know what she says as she leans in close to Heather, but it doesn’t seem to make Heather’s irritation weaken in the slightest.
The girls are tipsy; they’ve been doing shots all night. I can see in Reese’s eyes that she feels good. But something about this guy rubs me the wrong way. The last thing I want is for him to be anywhere near Reese, but the idea that he’s dismissed her so casually pisses me off too. The girl he is with has nothing on Reese.
I bolt out of the chair before I can talk myself out of it and stalk toward her. I faintly hear the sound of Kevin saying, ‘About damn time,’ as I move away from the table. Heather is the first person to see me coming. “Can you believe that asshole?” She points toward the guy I now know as Lance. Loser Lance is what I’ll call him. “He called Reese last night talking about wanting to see her again and now look at him."
“It’s fine,” Reese insists. “I told you that I wasn’t really into him anyway.”
I know Reese well enough to know that even if what she says is true, it still bothers her to see a guy she’s been dating with another girl. In her mind, she is comparing herself to the other woman, wondering what that woman has that she doesn’t.
Without another passing second, I move in and wrap my arm around her waist as I back her away from her friends. Her eyes grow wide with surprise and maybe appreciation before when I dip my head and bring my mouth closer to hers. “He’s an idiot.”
“It’s no bi—”
“You’re beautiful,” I confess, feeling excitement rush through me, one that leaves me lightheaded. “And whether you like him or not, you should know that he’s a dumbass for letting you go so easily.”
The way she stares up at me, with one hand resting against my chest and the other on my arm, makes me feel weak. Her emerald colored eyes, partially highlighted by the flashing lights around us, hold me captive in a trance.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes never once leaving mine.
“Will you dance with me ?” I deliver it more as a statement than a question because I’m already moving my body against hers. The way she feels in my arms is unlike how she’s ever felt before. This is real. This is raw. This is everything.
I don’t kiss her, even though I want to more than anything. Instead, I remain close to her, holding her body against mine, refusing to allow even a small amount of space to form between us. I can feel each breath she takes as if it were my air too, each tremble of her hands as they continue to remain in the same position, and each beat of her heart that matches that of my own. Giving in to temptation, I stretch out my palm and place it against her back, slowly allowing it to si
nk lower. The feeling of the slight curve of her back just before it reaches her ass sends a jolt of electric-filled lust through me. My hand twitches to seek out more, but I fight the urge.
Slowly. I have to proceed slowly.
“What are we doing?” Reese questions, and I sense the nervous energy inside of her.
“We’re dancing.”
When she tries to argue, I move my mouth in closer and whisper near her ear. “Don’t.” I take a deep breath, fighting against the anxiety I feel from the idea of her pulling away. “Don’t think. Just feel.”
It takes a few seconds, but the moment I feel her body relax against my own, I swear the weight of the world lifts off my shoulders.
Awareness sets in as her friends and my own watch us, likely wondering what happens next, a concern I share too. Looks of surprise and shock show on their faces. But there are a few that smile at us as if they expected this very thing and have just been waiting for the moment it all changed.
One song rolls into another but I don’t even hear a word of any of them. The only thing I hear is the sound of Reese, her slow breaths in my ear, her heart beating rapidly just like my own.
A fast beat now surrounds us, booming through the speakers. While the dance floor begins to fill, we remain planted in the same position, lost in the crowd that seems to swallow us up. It all happens so fast. The way she leans back and lifts her chin. The way her eyes lock with mine. The way desire clouds around us, filling the air, making us light-headed as if we were floating instead of dancing.
“Dawson.” That one word is all it takes. As my name falls from her lips and races through me, it gives me the last bit of strength I need to take this one step further. She moves in as I move in. Just as our lips touch, she is jostled away from me by two of her friends.
“Oh my god!” The darker haired girl squeals. “Heather just dumped a drink over Lance’s head!”
Even with the news, her eyes remain locked on mine. Her chest rises and falls. The blissful look on her face is the same one from moments ago. The idea that our time may have been lost couldn’t be further from the truth. I can see it without her saying the words. Our time isn’t over because it’s just getting started.
Reese
“What the hell was that?” Heather asks, stepping up to my side.
“What the hell was that?” I repeat her question, referring to her need to drench Lance as I point toward the other end of the bar.
“Please,” she answers, waving her hand out before her as if it was yesterday’s news, and then turns her body completely around to step in front of me, blocking my view of Dawson. It is the first chance I'm able to think straight, no longer being caught in a mutual trance. “Like I said, what just happened with you and Dawson? And before you decide you’re gonna feed me this, oh it was nothing story, let me tell you, it was most definitely something.”
“I don’t know what it was.” There is no reason to lie or deny that something didn’t just happen. Hell, I may still be in shock from it all. “But whatever it is, I think I want more of it.”
Heather grabs my shoulders, shaking me, as she expresses her excitement freely. “Now that’s what I wanna hear. I’ve been telling you there is something there, and now you may finally listen.”
I spend the next hour watching Dawson watch me. A sexually-infused stare down that makes my pulse race. He smirks, as if he can almost hear the thoughts rolling around in my head, or maybe he has some of the same ideas himself.
At one point, he steps up behind me at the bar, his entire body practically forming to the back of mine. I can feel every ripple, every ridge, and even the big bulge poking into my backside.
“I’m buying,” he whispers, his lower lip touching the shell of my ear. Chills cover my neck and shoulders as my body shivers. “Cold?” I know he doesn’t truly need me to answer because he already understands what has inflicted the reaction within me. “Because if you are,” he whispers as he curls his body around mine, his arms circling me as he pulls me back even further against him. “We can skip out of here and go back home now, where I’m sure we can find more than a few ways to warm you up.” Holy. Hot.
More chills invade my body, Dawson’s effect engulfing me, as he slowly kisses the sensitive spot on my neck beneath my ear. “You want to know what is wrong with me? Why I’ve been so irritable and distant? It’s all because of you. I’ve been fighting this feeling I have for you, Reese. Trying to stay away from you.”
I close my eyes, focusing on his words, words that finally confirm my own feelings.
“But I don’t wanna fight it anymore, Reese,” he confesses, kissing me once more. “I’m done pretending that I don’t feel something for you other than friendship. It’s just too hard.”
And just like that, my heart leaps inside my chest.
“Tell me that you feel it too, this shift between us. I’m not just talking about tonight, but over the last couple of months.” I nod just before he takes the lobe of my ear between his lips and sucks gently. “There’s no going back from this, Reese,” I should feel fear because he is right, but all I feel is excitement to start the more part of our friendship. “Are you sure about this?”
I turn to look at him, our lips so very close, and mutter, “I’m sure.”
His gaze drops to my mouth before he brushes his own against mine. It is nothing more than a tease before he turns back to look at the bartender who has placed both my drink and his on the bar before us. He holds out the money, telling the guy to keep the change before he grabs his bottle and steps back, removing the heated pressure of his body from mine. I miss the feel of him against me immediately, and by the look on his face, I think he’s noticed.
“Come on,” he urges, motioning toward my drink. “Let's go finish these drinks.”
Reaching out, I lift my glass with shaky hands and begin to follow him on equally shaky legs. I sip on my drink, still watching him, only he doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did but appears to be keeping his cool very well. He stands near his friends, his legs slightly parted, which only makes him even more alluring. His confident stance I’ve noticed before but never really took the time to analyze until now is present. Somehow he seems stronger, more potent, like a new found swagger has taken him over. Who am I kidding? He’s always had it, but now it is overpowering in a sense that it makes it hard to breathe.
“Second thoughts?” Heather asks from my side. Without taking my eyes away from him, I gave her a simple shake of my head. There is no way I am backing out now. When Dawson said he’d been fighting feelings for me, the only thing I’d managed to think was me too. How can we both fight the inevitable?
I just hope more than anything that going from best friends to more doesn’t backfire on us.
The cab slows at the curb near our apartment.
We’d left the bar, and immediately I curled up into Dawson’s side on the cab ride home. I’d always loved the way he’d willingly hold me close, but after the night we’d shared, everything seemed to have more depth. The way he carefully brushed his fingertips over my shoulder. My body was completely aware of every single movement he made. Especially the way he linked his fingers of his left hand with those of my right, and then rested them against my thigh. His thumb gently stroking the palm of my hand, such a simple movement that seemed to hit my soul. My body was completely aware of every single movement he made tonight. Every touch was amplified. Every touch on my body was attuned to my heart.
“We’re home,” he whispers, stopping my flashback about our turning point at the club, making me realize that I have to move away from him, even though I want to stay right by his side.
Forcing myself to slide away from the comfort of his body, I reach for the handle and open the door. Once outside, I turn around just as he too climbs out after paying the cabby. His eyes lock on mine and he smiles, reassuring me as he reaches out and once again links his fingers with mine.
We’ve walked side by side more times than I can ever
count, taking this same path. We’ve done it while happy; we’ve done it while mad, but never have we done it like this. Like lust laced with love. With each step, my heart only races more.
As we pass the pool toward the stairs that lead to our apartment, I remember the way he reacted earlier. Now I understand where those feelings came from, what inflicted his reactions toward me. I’d wanted him too, secretly hiding the feelings and burying them deep, but I’d felt that pull. I’d felt that need for something more but I’d fought and tucked away behind the fear of losing the one person who meant the most to me.
As I pause in front of the door that leads to our place, he reaches around me and places the key in the hole. “I’ve got it.” All I can do is nod.
The door pushes open, I step inside, and the light from the lamp that we'd left on gives us enough lighting to see each other. Turning around, I watch Dawson as he too steps inside and closes the door behind him. The sound of his keys as they hit the table next to the door echoes in the silence, and I swear in that very second, I can hear the sounds of both of us breathing a little faster with anticipation.
I kick off one high heel at a time as he keeps his eyes on mine, his chest rising, his shoulders lifting just before he exhales slowly. His hands fist at his sides and I imagine it is his way of keeping himself from reaching out for me. The only problem with that is that I want him to grab me and pull me close.
So instead of waiting for Dawson to fight whatever internal battle he is having, I step in closer toward him. “Tonight was fun,” I whisper, “but there was one thing missing. One thing I wanted that I didn’t get.”
“What was that?”
I reach out and place my hand against his chest, just over his heart. I feel the beat beneath my palm that seems to mirror my own. “A kiss,” I finally say, and he moves in quickly to close the distance between us.
“Just one?”
I shake my head and he smiles. “As many as you’re willing to give me.”
