by Susan Ward
“I have fun when I’m with you.”
The last of the tension eases from Neil’s face. “Who would have thought we’d ever end up friends?” he teases.
I smile. “Definitely weird, but I kind of like it.”
He touches my face. He looks surprised by it too. “So do I, Chrissie.”
Then something changes in Neil’s eyes. I don’t see the movement of his body toward me, me being pulled into him, his face lowering to mine, and his arm lifting so he can bury his fingers in my hair, moving my face with the movement of his kiss.
Whatever I imagined kissing Neil would be like before this night is shattered with the first touch of his lips. This is no feather-light, tentative first kiss. It’s hungry and demanding. He plunders my mouth with his, and the taste of him is delicious and new, making me pulse everywhere, in time with each stroke of his tongue.
I melt into him, my too long denied senses greedily absorbing the taste, the feel, the heat in him. We’re both moaning loudly. We’re both fucking each other’s mouth. We’re both straining and wanting.
My anxious hands roam and touch him everywhere, learning the feel of him, eager to get closer and closer to him.
The kiss breaks. I’m breathing hard. I’m wet and wanting there, for the first time since…I push the thought away.
My gaze fixes on Neil. His hair has tumbled forward, hiding his face, but I can see he’s trying to collect himself.
“Oh fuck,” he exhales, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel.
I stare at him. My body surprises me by how strongly I want Neil.
Neil looks up, his gaze heated as he meets my stare, the lines of his face tense. “Give me a minute, Chrissie. I can’t get out of the car yet.”
I lean into him, putting my mouth back on his, and my hand drifts lower. I can feel his erection thick and straining within his shorts. I push into him as much as I can from my seat. My tongue attacks his. My fingers brush him there.
He starts kissing me back, matching my fever, and our bodies are both moving urgently as if trying to figure out how to get closer to each other in the car. I’m about to climb over the center console, when Neil grabs my wrist, stopping me.
He pulls free his erection from his shorts. There’s a little bit of cum already on it. He rubs it along himself, and then guides my hand to him, showing me how to stroke him. He swells in my fingers, moves my hand faster, then moves his own hand to feel to his balls and squeeze before he returns to control my hand running up and down the length of him. Faster. Faster.
My arousal heatedly courses through my body. The feel of getting him off with my touch, feeling him surrender to my fingers, has my body going full throttle. The way he’s moaning. His mouth punishing as he kisses me. Every part of me is desperate to have him in me.
He stretches back in his seat. He’s shaking and groaning. He pulls his lips free. Eyes closed and head back, he breathes, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, of fuck…” and then my fingers are a sticky and warm mess. His shakes quiet into quivers. His ragged breathing takes on a steady rhythm.
I stare at him, the blood pulsing through my body, urgent in my sex, and he’s trying to recover from his passion empty cock.
“Oh fuck,” he breathes again, this time in distress, not pleasure.
He doesn’t look at me. He covers his eyes with his forearm. “I’m a fucking asshole, Chrissie. I don’t want to fuck up our friendship. Our friendship matters to me. I don’t want to ruin it by complicating it.”
My scalp prickles as by body goes cold. He sounds angry. I’ve just given him a hand job. He wanted it. And now he’s angry.
He looks at me. “That was a really selfish, prick move to make, but I’ve had a fucking boner every time I’ve been around you for the last three weeks.”
My eyes widen. He always plays it so cool. Why doesn’t he make a move on me?
He reaches past me into the glove box and starts searching through my dad’s things. He finds a packet of tissues and pulls out a handful, hands some to me, then proceeds to clean himself off before he tucks his dick back in his shorts. He crumples the tissue in his hand as he unbuckles his seat belt.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. He makes a face. “I can’t believe I just came in Jackson Parker’s car.”
He says it like it’s disgusting.
“Are you OK?” he asks.
I nod, fighting to keep my emotion from my face.
“Are you pissed?”
I shake my head, and he climbs from the car as I ease myself over the center console into the driver’s seat. He stares down at me from outside the open door.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says quietly.
I struggle to talk. “Sure, Neil.”
“Night, Chrissie.”
He shuts the door. I watch him walk to his parents’ porch. He pauses there, staring at me. I turn the key in the ignition and accelerate away from the curb.
By the time I reach the house my mind is a torrent of conflicting thoughts and emotions. I’m too wired to go to sleep.
I cut through the front entry hall toward the kitchen. I stare through the wall of glass. Jack is on the patio, sitting on a chaise, still awake, and waiting up for me.
I go out the French doors and settle on a lounger beside him. I hug my knees with my arms.
“Did you have a good time tonight, baby girl?”
I nod. I lay my cheek on my knees so I can meet Jack’s gaze. “Daddy, why are guys so complicated?”
Jack laughs. “I don’t know that we are. We’re pretty much what you see. What we say, what we do, is what you get.”
I bite my lower lip. I debate. I feel so lame wanting relationship advice from my dad.
“Neil likes me. Like into me, likes me. But he doesn’t want to like me and I don’t know why. What’s wrong with me that a guy wouldn’t want to like me, when he already does?”
Jack’s blue eyes soften. “There is not a thing wrong with you. If he likes you, it’ll happen. You don’t need to make it happen. It just will. Maybe he’s got some shit to work through. People have shit, Chrissie. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
I hug my legs tighter against me. Last spring Linda Rowan said the very same thing to me. It’s strange to hear the exact same words out of Jack today.
I turn to stare out at the ocean. Being with Neil feels so much different than it felt being with Alan. No easier for me. No less confusing. Different. No less weird.
CHAPTER SIX
By four in the afternoon, I’m pissed. Neil said he would call and then didn’t. What a jerk. And I’m really annoyed with myself that I’ve spent an entire day wondering what the heck happened last night.
The more I replay it in my head, the less it makes sense. It was weird. There is no other word for it. But then there’s a lot about Neil that is just plain weird. What kind of guy admits to your face he’s had a boner over you for three weeks and never tries to make a move on you?
I shake my head, frustrated with my thoughts. It’s an unexpectedly emotionally taxing process to try to figure out a guy who doesn’t want to have sex with you.
The phone rings. I don’t move from my seat on the couch. Maria can answer it. It’s probably not even Neil. The phone rings nonstop all day for Jack.
I’m disappointed to realize I’m straining to hear Maria’s voice in the kitchen. And I’m also disappointed to realize I’m more than a little anxious wondering if it is Neil. Crap, we’re not even dating and I’m a fucked-up mess over him.
Finally. Maria exits the kitchen carrying the phone. So Neil did decide to call, after leaving me hanging all day.
I take the phone from her hand. “Hello.”
“Hi, Chrissie.”
I purposely don’t say hi back to Neil. A long pause. I can hear him breathing into the phone. I run my tongue along my dry lips and then pucker them tightly.
I wait.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he says quietly, an edge o
f contrite misery in his voice.
“It’s all right. No big deal. Just forget about it.”
I shake my head in frustration. What’s up with all the apologies? I don’t know why he keeps apologizing or why the apologies make my emotional messy messier.
“It’s not all right. I was an asshole. No guy should treat you that way.”
I struggle not to respond. God, this is awful. From completely comfortable with Neil to completely not comfortable with Neil, and all I did was give him a hand job in the car. My emotions turn; my stomach feels sick.
“I have to go, Neil.”
I start to hang up. I hear, “No! No, wait.”
I hold the receiver back against my ear.
“Are you still there, Chrissie?”
“I’m here.”
Another pause.
“Are we cool, Chrissie? Is everything OK between us?”
“Yep.” It’s the only word I can work out of my mouth.
More silence. Then, “I’ll pick you up in about an hour.”
That wasn’t even a request.
I don’t answer him.
“I’ll pick you up in an hour,” he repeats.
I take in a ragged breath. “OK.” I quickly click off the phone.
I toss the phone and then run my fingers through my hair. I rest my forehead in my palms. Why am I letting him pick me up? Talking on the phone with Neil was bad enough. Seeing him is going to be just unbearable.
The doorbell rings exactly one hour later. I sit on the bed and let Maria answer it. I’ve been dressed for over half an hour, but I’m not going to hurry out there. Neil wanted to pick me up. He can cool his heels with Maria for a while.
I go back into my bathroom, and give my hair and makeup once last check. I stare at myself in the mirror. At least I look together on the surface. I’m anything but together internally.
When I went to my bedroom to dress, I started to wonder why Neil wanted to see me. Belatedly, it occurred to me he might want to tell me to my face he doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore. It surprised me how much the thought of that hurt me, and has made me more than a little nervous over the possibility that is why he wants to see me today.
Getting dumped when you are not even a guy’s girlfriend would be a humiliating thing.
I let fifteen minutes pass. I head for the living room. I stop in the entry hall and stare. Neil is across the room with Jack. They’re standing in front of the glass guitar cases, talking quietly. Neil’s stance tells me he’s engaged in the conversation with my dad. They’re probably all consumed in music talk. Musicians are always comfortable talking music together.
My brows hitch upward when I take note of how Neil is dressed. Nice jeans. A V-neck, long sleeve, gray wool sweater. A white t-shirt peeking from beneath the collar. Not even flip-flops today. Sneakers. I’ve never seen Neil in anything but his work clothes and casual-messy attire. It’s almost like he dressed for a date.
“Why didn’t you tell me your janitor was a musician?”
Jack’s amused voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I flush. “He’s not my janitor.”
I regret that comment the second it’s out because something flashes in Neil’s eyes, too quickly for me to read it, but it makes me feel bad anyway.
I drag my gaze away from Neil by focusing on walking into the sunken living room. I feel Neil’s eyes following me as I sit on the arm of the sofa. I let out a nervous breath.
“Are you ready to go?” Neil asks.
I nod.
“Where are you off to tonight?” Jack asks.
God, even this is weird. Until I saw Neil standing with my dad it didn’t register in my brain that I haven’t had a guy home to meet Jack since I was thirteen.
“Probably just dinner,” I hear Neil say from across the room. “I’ll have Chrissie home early.”
Early? What the does that mean?
“Are you ready to go?”
I look up. Neil has crossed the room to me without me noticing.
“You already asked. I already answered,” I say, rolling to my feet.
After Neil says his goodbyes to Jack, we walk in silence out of the house and across the driveway towards his car. I don’t know why I’m being so combative and petty. It’s just dinner. I’m not exactly sure why I’m going with him. I’m definitely not sure of Neil’s motivation in this.
Neil unlocks and opens my car door. He studies me cautiously. “I can’t read your mood. Are you pissed off? Are you upset with me? Or do you want to tell me fuck off and go away?”
I drop into the passenger seat. I peek up at him through my lashes. He looks nervous as hell. That surprises me, and for some reason it makes my mood soften.
“I don’t know yet,” I say. “This feels odd.”
Neil lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t think odd covers it, Chrissie.”
He shuts my door. I try to look at him as he moves around the front of the car and then settles in the driver’s seat.
“Whose car is this?” I ask.
It’s nice. It’s a brand-new BMW. It seems like such a non-Neil thing to be driving an expensive car.
He turns on the ignition. “Mia’s. She doesn’t usually toss me the keys. I told her I fucked up last night. She practically hit me in the face with them when I asked to borrow it tonight.”
I exhale a long, ragged breath. “You seem really close to Mia.”
Neil nods and flicks on a turn signal. “I am. Mia and I’ve always gotten along. I don’t really fit in with the rest of cousins.”
I nod. I could feel that last night at Knapp’s Castle.
He turns onto the freeway heading south. I debate whether to ask him where we’re going.
Neil lights a cigarette and takes a long drag.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know yet.”
Neil exhales. I can feel his eyes on me. “Are you going to stay pissed at me the entire night?”
“It depends on why you’re doing this. What this is. If it’s going to be awful, we should probably pass on dinner. I probably won’t eat.”
He searches my face. Then he smiles and laughs. “I don’t know if it’s going to be awful, Chrissie. I haven’t been on a date in a really long time. I could fuck this up too.”
Date? I stare at him.
“What do you mean date? Since when are we dating instead of hanging-out buddies?”
He looks at the clock on the dash. His eyes are amused. “Since about twenty minutes ago. Why do you think I borrowed Mia’s car to pick you up? I have three sisters. My dad’s a cop. I can’t date a girl without meeting her father.”
I stare out the window. I try to contain my rapidly churning emotions. My anger at his arrogance. My frustration over how emotionally volatile I am tonight with Neil. And the sudden, unexpected flash of relief. He’s not dumping me; he’s trying to date me.
Neil surprises me a second time by driving out on the pier. My stomach somersaults as he pulls into the valet lane in front of one of my favorite restaurants—Neil hates the pier. He thinks it’s touristy. He brought me someplace I would like.
He takes my hand and guides me into the restaurant. We sit upstairs on the outside patio staring at the water, the boats, and the people around us.
Once the waitress has taken our dinner order and left the table, Neil asks, “You’re very quiet, Chrissie. What are you thinking?”
I shrug. “I was just thinking that I’ve never really been on a date before.”
Neil smiles and takes a sip of his ice-tea. “What do you mean you’ve never been on a date before? You must have dated a lot in high school.”
He’s staring at me in a way that tells me he thinks I’m joking.
My cheeks redden. “I’ve had boyfriends. Well, two. But I haven’ been on a real date. You know. Pick me up. Meet my dad. Take me out and then take me home. A date-date.”
He studies me quizzically, and then gives me a small smil
e. “How do you think it’s going so far?”
I laugh. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know when it’s over. But it’s going OK so far.”
We both laugh this time.
We’re not talking a lot as we eat our dinner, but I think the laughter made it all less uncomfortable than it was when we first got to the restaurant.
After dinner, we take a walk along the pier. At the end, I lean over the rail, staring at the water. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a quick peek at Neil. He looks as awkward in this as I feel, and I never expected that from Neil. He’s always so calm, so sure of himself. He always has an air of popular-guy superiority about him. It’s kind of sweet that Neil feels awkward on a date with me.
Wind and dampness brush my skin. I shiver.
“I should get you home. I promised your dad I’d get you home early.”
I nod. It’s been a good night. Something in me doesn’t want to push the evening farther.
I turn from the rail and start to walk. We stop at the valet, and we wait for the car to be brought around.
“Do you still have it?” he asks.
I frown. “Have what?”
“The half dollar?”
Our silly bet. I can tell by the way he’s looking at me he doesn’t think I kept my half of the dollar. I rummage through my bag, pull out my wallet, unzip the pocket, and hold the half dollar beneath his nose.
“Do you still have yours?” I ask.
He stops and lets go of my hand. He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and fishes it out.
I stare up at him. I would have never bet in a million years Neil had kept his half of the dollar.
“Why’d you keep it?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m just like that. I keep all sorts of things.”
When the car arrives, he opens my door before the valet can come around. He stares down at me. “Why’d you keep yours?”
Those green eyes are fixed on my face.
“I don’t know.”
It’s the truth. I don’t know why I kept that silly half dollar, made in a bet, from a guy who wasn’t even interested in me.
I watch Neil climb into the car beside me. We drive back to my dad’s house in silence, only I like our silence this time. He pulls into my driveway, parks, and turns off the car.
