Across From You

by Amabel Daniels

Bev rolled her eyes. “Just a hunch. You both like to read. And have this subliminal geek you try to hide. You’re both obsessed with all that crap about those leprechauns and that one tall magician dude—”

  How many times would I need to explain?

  “First of all, they are hobbits. Not creepy green-haired Irish myths.” I shook my head. Could she pay any respect? “And two, Gandalf is the White Wizard, not a magician dude.”

  Jack removed his hand from the small of my back and held up a finger. “And actually, Gandalf isn’t the only Istari. Sauramon and Radag—”

  Bev’s groan nearly echoed in the lobby. “Oh. My. God. You guys are going to be a sickeningly cute couple who speak in all these inside jokes.”

  I grinned at Jack but sobered at Bev’s words. “Nah. I just got out of a relationship. Jack and I are just becoming…friends. Right?”

  His smile dimmed a fraction but he nodded. “Yep.”

  Ten

  Jack

  Friends.

  Never had I hated a word more.

  Becoming friends? That was all Lexi saw on the horizon?

  And when did I jump on board for something more than friendship? How could I know if Lexi was the kind of woman who’d see the real me, and not focus on the front? Given her furious blush at the art class, I had quite a bit of evidence she was impressed with what I looked like. Always great, but I needed something more. I needed her to appreciate something that clothes or nudity couldn’t cover.

  Then again, I was stacking the odds against her. As I watched her send beady eyes to the photographer’s assistant as she repositioned Lexi’s arm ten times in twenty seconds, I considered this sassy brunette who’d shared my bed the last night. What if our roles were reversed? If I’d first seen Lexi posing nude for an art class that I happened to attend…

  Lexi nude. Maybe that blush ran so prettily down her nape before the swell of a pale breast just the perfect size for sucking into my mouth and clamping down—

  “Hey, handsome. You coming?”

  Coming? With Lexi? Sure.

  “…waiting for you over there,” someone told me with a flirty undertone. A feminine hand caressed my arm and jolted me out of my fantasy. The younger of the photographer’s assistants gestured for me to head to another corner of the room where the other groomsmen were being lined up for shots.

  Well. Point taken as I straightened from leaning against a chair, shifting at the beginning of a hard-on before walking off. If I could fall into a sexy imagination of Lexi at just the thought of seeing her naked, who was I to get annoyed that she’d started our connection by ogling me? That was human instincts for you. Attraction didn’t have to be the sum all of being with someone, though. If she and I were mutually interested in each other for more than a fuck, why not? Why immediately banish all possibilities just because we’d met on the heels of a crappy breakup for her? I’d had my version of a shitty breakup years ago and I was ready to shed the scars of that ordeal to make room for Lexi in my life.

  Maybe.

  My instant hope that I could convince Lexi to stay open-minded about considering something more than friendship with me—no matter how long it could take—didn’t bode well for looking in the opposite direction of where she was positioned for so many pictures with Bev and the others. Out of the ninety-some pics snapped of us guys, I’d wager half of them might show me glancing at the other side of the room. No, no wagering. No betting. Not anytime soon for me. The only way I’d agree to pose nude again would be in a one-on-one, private setting. Like with…oh, maybe Lexi. The woman who was insisting on just friends.

  Once the guys’ photoshoot was done, the same assistant who’d directed me over here sidled up to me. She was a chatty, touchy kind of female and all it took was one minute chance of a glance from Lexi to piss me the hell off. No, no. I wasn’t a fan of her frown, even though it warmed me to think she could be jealous. Regardless, this attention wasn’t going to help convince her I wasn’t interested in hopping from woman to woman. It wasn’t anything new, tuning out people I didn’t want in my life, but in the direct periphery of Lexi, it suddenly mattered much more. Easiest solution, walk away and chat with Paul.

  As soon as the girls were done, we joined them for portraits of the entire lineup, starting hour two of not blinking at bright-ass flashes. How wide were Bev and Paul actually going to print these images? Fourteen people across? Did they really want panoramas stretching their living room walls? Wraparound pics for coffee mugs to commemorate the event?

  Being nearer to Lexi was the only silver lining, even if she was still frowning. Not at me, I hoped. She better not have forgotten about our agreement to forget about what others said. I wasn’t one of those kinds of guys and I’d be damned if Lexi left this weekend thinking that.

  “How many more pictures do we need to do?” my partner asked as she slumped her shoulders at my side.

  “What’s the rush?” Darcy quipped. She smoothed her hair back into her immaculate half braid thing as she asked, “You got somewhere better to be?”

  “I do—” the blonde bridesmaid said around a giggle. Yeah, yeah, I never got her name. Didn’t really want to. She was the drunk who’d been a brat to Lexi at the rehearsal dinner. In the next second, I gagged at her perfume as she rubbed against me. Maybe it was supposed to be a cross between offering me her breasts and a hug? Jesus. Or was she trying to one-up the assistant who tried to grope me? I had no clue if this was supposed to be sexy. Smearing her scent on me like animals rubbing against each other to mark their territory—or was she marking me to make a stink so no one else wanted to approach?

  Around a cough, I stepped back.

  “Well, we do,” she said and licked her lips while eyeing me. “We haven’t had a chance to hook up.”

  And there will never be a chance.

  Lexi snorted. “Yeah, and I can think of somewhere else I’d rather be, too. Maybe out of these shoes. And stuffing something delicious in my mouth.”

  That was something I’d sign up for. Not necessarily me putting something in her mouth. Not like th— Dammit. Food. I was talking about food. It didn’t even have to be something tasty. Sustenance of any edible kind would cut it. The bagel and bacon I’d schlepped from the room service delivered to Paul’s room were hours ago.

  The blondie who’d rubbed up on me laughed. “Seriously? Trying to live up to your fame, now?”

  Lexi deadpanned. “Excuse me?”

  The woman shrugged, smiling like a coyote closing in on prey. “Maintaining your celeb status as a fat ass?” She smirked. “Maybe you should think twice about whining for food. No guy’s gonna want a taste of you if you’re obsessed with shoveling food in your face.”

  “Really?” I asked and cocked my head at her while I kept my gaze on Lexi. “I can’t wait for a taste.”

  Then I gripped the back of Lexi’s neck and pulled her close for a kiss to show how impatient I’d become.

  As far as impulsive actions went, I’d never regret this one. My first motive was to show this bimbo how to eat her words. Who’d asked for her fucking opinion of when a woman could be hungry?

  Ulterior inspiration played a part too. I was the kind of guy to always take opportunities as they arose. If Lexi was steering into a charted friend zone with me, maybe this would be the first wave to rock her right out of the boat and swim in a few open options.

  My intentions didn’t seem to matter after the first realization of our mouths. To me or her. This kiss demanded time to hold up so we could meet and burn in lust-fired surprise. Because with a muffled umph, she fisted the buttoned edge of my jacket, maybe for an anchor. I tilted her face to the side to deepen my angle, pressing against those soft, witty lips, begging for her to open so I could really get a damn taste of—

  “Not now!”

  Claws gripped the back of my jacket and I stupidly followed the hand yanking me away before the fabric was torn. I didn’t want to have to pay for damage to the tux, but fuck. One parting look at the daz
e our kiss cast on Lexi’s relaxed face—worth it. I reached for her again but I was jerked away once more.

  “Not. Now!” Claudia seethed as she pushed at my shoulder, guiding me to stand slightly behind and next to Lexi. “Shack up after the reception.” She moved closer to Lexi, who still stood there with the sexiest want painted in her eyes. Claudia snapped her fingers in front of her nose and Lexi blinked. Reality of facing the enemy chilled the sleepy desire in her eyes as she narrowed them.

  “Do not make me repeat myself,” she warned and held up her hand.

  Claudia sneered. “Yes. I remember. If I put my hands on you I will wish I’d burned in Smaug’s flames.” Still, she pointed for Lexi to shift next to me. “Whatever the fuck that means. But move. Next to him. No, there. Here. No, I said there. Goddammit. Stand right there.”

  I ran my hand up and down Lexi’s back, hoping it’d calm her. Worst case, I’d be ready to prevent her from slugging the planner woman. I felt the teeny rises of goosebumps as I rubbed her and drew my arm down. Maybe I wasn’t helping matters, reminding her of how I’d stolen a kiss from her.

  “Yes.” Claudia sighed as Lexi stepped to the left, then the right, and then right back into the exact position she’d started in. “Right there.”

  It was impossible to explain why I’d kissed her as we had to smile and look to the camera for the next series of shots. You know those old pictures where everyone was frowning or had their eyes closed? Way back photos when they didn’t smile because they just couldn’t maintain the expression for the excessive time it took for the image to be captured. I could relate. Given the seizure-inducing bursts of light at our faces and the fact it was not the late 1800s, not quite the same scenario. But the sentiment behind grave, pissed-off expressions, oh, that sure as fuck held true here.

  When we were dismissed—ordered to step aside for more shots of just the newlyweds—Lexi sighed so deeply she seemed to end up shrunken by a couple inches.

  “Those shoes really killing you?” I asked as I nodded my head to a bench along the wall. She followed at my side to take a seat.

  “It’ll be interesting. My fate lies in surviving these damn heels or starvation—”

  The way she immediately shut up blew life into the anger I’d forgotten about since kissing her. And by the pink stealing across her cheekbone, I’d bet she was recalling my deflection too.

  “About that kiss…” I started.

  She raised her brows as she sat down. “Get your taste?”

  Technically, no, not enough— “Come on. I prevented an unnecessary and ugly catfight.”

  “Ugly for her or me?”

  “Oh, I have no doubt you could take her.”

  She laughed but still avoided my eyes. “You didn’t have to do that. Kiss me to save face.”

  “Who said I did?” I did, in a way, but it’d fanned into a lot more with her reaction. By the lack of eye contact, I wanted to pump my fist at succeeding in muddying her “just friends” waters.

  “Huh.” She huffed to herself. “Uh, thank you. I think.” Another deep breath in left her as a growing whimper as she slouched back to the wall. “But I am still so damn hungry.”

  “For another taste of what we started?”

  “I didn’t start anything.”

  I leaned back to be even with her. And hell, I wasn’t wearing gravity-defying heels, but my shoes weren’t exactly broken in either. Slouching sounded perfect. Sure, she didn’t initiate anything. I had. And damn, what a shocker that was. I was pursuing her? I met the uncertainty in her gaze and resolved to maintain my confidence. Yes, dammit, I would pursue her. Somehow.

  Lexi might not have started anything, but she definitely reacted. She’d had just as much of a chance to push me off as she had to pull me close like she’d needed to climb under my skin.

  “I’m guessing our kiss doesn’t fit your idea of just friends.”

  Leaning her cheek on my shoulder, I scooted higher so she could relax against me instead. With my arm around her shoulders, she shrugged. “I don’t think that kiss fits in anywhere here.”

  Fucking hell. But if she was so bothered by my move, why was she snuggling in closer? Her actions hadn’t lied yet.

  “That’s the kind of kiss that belongs in a bedroom.”

  Just like that, my equilibrium settled…with a central focus of an ache in my cock.

  “Ah.” And she’d already been in mine. How many more ways could she have the upper hand? She’d already seen me naked. Already been to and left my room. And what did I have?

  “So…yes, I’m still so damn hungry.”

  I chuckled at her confession but not an admission. There was no way I could expect her to do a one-eighty of wanting me as a buddy to viewing me as her lover. Whiplash was a bitch of a pain. So I took faith in the open ending of her words and hoped another opportunity would arise to further coax her away from the label of single.

  “Me too.” I’d play fair for now. We could sidestep our attraction to each other until we really could have a chance to explore our options. Claudia did have a point. We still had crap to do as members of the wedding party. In lieu of talking about what we really wanted, we could distract ourselves with optimism for a meal. “So, what do you think is on the menu tonight?”

  Eleven

  Lexi

  My menu for tonight? An appetizer of his kisses, followed by a tossed mess of our clothes flung on the floor, then the main course of orgasms followed by a dessert of cuddling.

  I was officially famished now.

  More in vein with my claim that we were just friends, we didn’t chat about foreplay we preferred or who’d get to be on top. Like two normal people in a budding friendship, we swapped fantasies of other drives: food. For the next good half hour, while Bev and Paul burned their retinas with more camera flashes, Jack and I shared guesses of what kind of dinners we could expect at the end of the night.

  Sitting there tucked under his arm and hypnotized by his deep voice rumbling so close to my ear set up little reminders like an app on crack, notifications of temptation warnings that refused to be dismissed with a swipe of a thought. Yes, I had insisted on a penis sabbatical. But hell, you know what? YOLO. Jack couldn’t be one of those guys. The careful tenderness he’d started that kiss with hinted at anything but casual sexuality. More like deliberate focus. On me.

  Again, notification dismissed.

  Talking about food shouldn’t have turned me on and tricked me into wanting Jack more. Even after that snaky bridesmaid’s jab about me being fat, I wasn’t uncomfortable pining about dinner with this sexed-up trooper on the bench with me. I wasn’t fat, nor did I have too large of a rear. I knew that. Jack seemed to as well. And reaching the milestone of adulthood had taught me enough about other people and their criticisms. Blondie here had to be insecure to have to insult me like that. Yep. And hey, I knew it wasn’t fair. I had an enviable metabolism. Granted, I kept my body wondering if it was going to be a 200-calorie protein shake in the morning to last me until half a stale bag of popcorn at midnight because I was too busy to stop and eat day, or a hows about we binge on everything in sight throughout five meals day, my genes learned to burn what it could until I replenish it. Someday I might learn proper nutrition, but there was no argument I had it figured out for now unless I lost my job and could eat all day, every day.

  Listening to Jack describe outlandishly fancy and delicious things to eat didn’t remind me of actually consuming food, but that he was a friend enough to simply talk and goof off with me while we were imprisoned in photography hell. The fact he was starving too gave me a sense of comradery.

  Since neither of us were foodies, and I couldn’t think of any other guesses for dinner, I was relieved when he asked me how deep my Tolkien fandom ran. Imagine my surprise. He was just as versed in both the book and the films of only the greatest collection of high fantasy to ever have been created. See, some girls might sigh and pine for stud-duds who would wait for them to take eighty-three self
ies in one minute without laughing at their kissy lips just so the world could see them in their self-dictated glory. Or maybe there were women out there who asked themselves why they couldn’t hit the jackpot and find a guy who enjoyed second-guessing where to eat for dinner. My priorities were unique. Locating a man who not only accepted my love of Middle Earth majesty and action, but admired it as much, if not more? A gift of compatibility from some slacker of a cupid somewhere. Or maybe karma was finally kicking in for me, giving me a fellow fantasy fan like Jack after the bullshit of that trainer’s breakup post. And no, he hadn’t even seen any of the movies. I still couldn’t grasp how, let alone why.

  Just as Jack was explaining—to my utmost envy—that he was leaving town tomorrow night for a trip to New Zealand, a tour package that stopped at the sites where the films were set, we were summoned once more for pictures.

  It was like statistics all over again. If you have twelve happy people and two hungry just friends—wait, no, Paul’s finger looked like it had swelled even more. If you have eleven happy people, one pained husband, two hungry just friends— No, no. Bev wasn’t happy either. She looked like she needed a nap. If you have ten happy people, one pained husband, one tired wife, two hungry just friends, how many possible combinations could you get if you rearranged them in pictures in sixty-six different poses…?

  Permutations, kindly fuck off.

  This time, we were shepherded back into the chapel and were placed around the priest for more pictures. As I obeyed my cue and ignored the photographer’s assistant’s requests for “charmed smiles” while everyone else got into line, I debated eating the petals off the flowers in my wilting bouquet.

  “Hey,” I said to Jack. “You know those creepy portraits from the early 1900s, where no one smiled because they thought they’d look insane?”

  He laughed quicker than I thought he would. And I hadn’t even hit a punchline. Well, I couldn’t kick ass at everything. My skillset of jokes ran parallel to my ability to be on time.