by Kendall Ryan
She stops us at a bar that’s small, but busy. It’s unpretentious, clean, and quietly classy, with yellowed lighting, worn hardwood floors, and only a few tables, all full. We sit at the polished counter and order our usual. As I sip my vodka soda, the questions crowding the back of my mind grow too big to ignore any longer.
Tonight’s been a blast; I almost don’t want to risk ruining this perfect evening by bringing up any tough questions. But we need to hash this out. I need to make sure I understand everything crystal clear, with no vagueness or miscommunication. And I need to ask before we order any more drinks and alcohol starts to color our decisions. I need answers before we cross the threshold of our hotel room door.
“So . . .” My tone must tip her off, because Keaton sets down her drink and looks at me.
“Yeah?”
“What . . .” God, how do I say this? “What are we doing here?”
She bats her eyes at me. “For starters, handsome, I’m buying us another round.”
There’s that handsome again. What the hell is with that? “You know what I mean. Where do we stand?”
Keaton steeples her fingers in front of her mouth, then lets out a pensive sigh. “A very wise woman told me ‘love is just friendship, but it is friendship with fire in its belly,’ and I realized she was right. I’ve been way overthinking the line we drew between lovers and friends. I thought the two things were totally different, when really . . .” She looks at me, and I could drown in the deep blue of her eyes. “It’s so easy for one to evolve into the other.”
Is she going where I think she’s going with this? I hardly dare to let myself believe it. I definitely don’t dare to interrupt her in case she clams up.
“I’m sorry for the way I shot you down. I want to try again. For real this time. Me and you . . . seeing where it goes.” She hesitates. “If you still want me.”
For a minute, I just stare at Keaton. I must be hearing things . . . but I’m not. She really wants to be with me, the way I want to be with her.
Swallowing hard, I take a deep breath. “You mean, you want us to be together? As in more than just friends? As in you’ve graduated from Sexploration 101 and we’re now moving on to Relationships 201?”
She nods, her mouth tilting up in a smile. Then she gives me a grin that warms me from the inside out. “I miss us. And the naked stuff too. A lot.”
I take her hand. “Then let’s pay our tab and get the hell out of here.”
Keaton giggles, and that sound is the best thing I’ve ever heard.
The taxi back to our hotel can’t drive fast enough.
We’re barely through the door before Keaton crashes into my arms. I meet her kiss with equal hunger, and a loud groan escapes me when her tongue caresses mine.
God, this feels so right. I didn’t realize just how badly I’d missed being able to touch her. How could I ever bear to stay away?
I reach under her sweater to squeeze her breasts through her bra, savoring their plush softness. She moans and presses against me, making it clear she’s ready for more.
“Tell me how you want it, baby.” The endearment slips out. But we’re lovers now, I’m allowed to say things like that, and her answering smile chases away whatever doubts and fears may have lingered.
“There is something I wanted to try . . . one last lesson we never got to before. You taking me from behind.”
Just the words make my cock twitch. “That’s right. We never got our special night at the hotel, did we? Well, if we’re going to do that, I want to give you everything I had planned.”
In the bedroom, we undress each other as fast as we can; my hands are almost shaking with anticipation at the feel of her silky skin. It’s so tempting to just take her right then and there, but I know from experience this will be even better if we savor it, let our desires build.
“Lie on the bed,” I murmur. “I’ll be right there.”
I find some scented lotion in the bathroom and come back. For a moment, I pause in the doorway to drink in the sight of her . . . bare, waiting, all laid out for me on her stomach. Then I straddle her ass, smooth lotion over her back, and start massaging her shoulders. They’re knotted with tension, likely from sitting at a computer desk all week. The way she moans and gasps with relief tempts me again, but I force myself to work slowly, thoroughly, all the way down her back.
After a few minutes, she mumbles something into the pillow.
“What’s that?” I ask.
She sighs. “I never should have turned you down last weekend.”
Where did that come from? “You already apologized for that.”
“I was being so stupid . . . I was convinced we’d never work as anything more than friends. I told myself we were too different, you didn’t really feel anything for me, you couldn’t possibly adjust to being a one-woman man—whatever bullshit excuse I could come up with, just because I was scared of getting hurt. I said all those things when all along I knew you were someone I couldn’t bear to ever let go.”
I’m floored. I can’t think of any response, so I just lean down and kiss her cheek, hoping that will say enough. She twists her head to meet my lips with hers.
“God, when I think I almost missed my chance with you,” she murmurs. “I’m such a fucking idiot. Isn’t it ridiculous, a grown-ass woman who couldn’t handle a leap of faith?”
“It’s okay, Keat. We’re starting over.” I run one finger down the graceful dip of her spine. “And just so you know, for you, I can absolutely be a one-woman man.”
She sighs happily. I reach under her body to cup and squeeze her breasts. Her breathing hitches. I gently pinch her nipples and she arches, pushing her hips up, offering herself. I press flush against her back to kiss the nape of her neck and grind my aching cock against her ass. She squirms helplessly against me.
Finally, when neither of us can take another second of teasing, I grab a condom from the nightstand and roll it on. I push inside her, and she moans softly. I don’t stop until I’m buried inside her warmth as far as I’ll go.
“You all right?” I ask, my voice gruff.
“Yeah, it just . . . wow.” Her voice is already rough and breathy. “You’re so deep.”
I smirk. “I know. And you feel fucking incredible.”
“So good,” she mumbles.
I slide my fingers down between her thighs. She’s soaking wet, her clit like a hard slick pearl, and just the lightest brush makes her gasp. I start thrusting while rubbing her, careful to keep the angle that makes her cry out with every slow pump of my hips.
Her hands are white-knuckled, knotted in the sheets. I wish I could see her face, but she’s mine now—I know we’ll have many more times to come, many more chances to see her dissolve in bliss, and nothing could make me happier. Besides, I certainly can’t complain about the view of her round hips, her shapely ass, and her silky hair cascading over the pillow.
She’s started trembling, panting, her moans louder and more urgent. I work my fingers faster between her thighs, desperate to make her come. She turns to look back at me over her shoulder.
“Oh, Slate . . . oh!” Her half-lidded eyes, dark with desire, transfix me.
Recalling another of the items on her spreadsheet, I stroke one finger between her cheeks, eliciting a pleasure-filled sound I’ve never heard her make before.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Keat.” I close my eyes for a moment, moaning through gritted teeth. She’s going to make me lose control much faster than I wanted. But it’s been too long, and having her again is like a monsoon after a drought. It’s too much. Too intense.
“I can’t wait to take you here, baby,” I murmur, still stroking her sexy backside, and lean close to press my lips to the back of her neck.
Then her eyes flutter closed, her mouth falls slack, and I can feel her orgasm hit her in waves, clenching around my cock from the inside and spasming against my fingers from the outside. Overwhelmed, moaning aloud, I tumble over the edge after her.
Almost tentatively, she says, “I love you.”
I pour every ounce of the tender fire I feel for her into my kiss. “I love you too.”
This is us . . . starting over. And it’s been the perfect night.
Entwined, we fall asleep together, and spend the night secure in each other’s arms.
By some miracle, Slate and I make it to the group brunch without tearing each other’s clothes off again. Even more improbable is the fact that we arrive before Karina and Gabby.
As we enter the diner, I rake my fingers through my sex hair in an attempt to tame it. After the third impossible knot, I give up. I can’t hide the evidence of how I spent my morning. I wish I was twenty again, when putting my hair up in a messy bun was still public appropriate.
Fuck it. Up it goes.
“I thought for sure we were going to be late.” I pile my hair on my head without the help of a mirror to guide me, hoping I look presentable. But that’s the best part about my new relationship with Slate. He knows me. He’s seen me at my worst. And still, he loves me.
Our usual booth by the far window is open, and Slate’s fingertips at my lower back guide me toward the rear of the diner. I wiggle my way down the bench until I’m cozy.
“Rolling you out of bed wasn’t easy.” The cushion gives as Slate scoots in next to me.
I examine my reflection in the glass of the diner window. It could be worse. “Oh, please. It was all ‘five more minutes, please’ and morning wood from you,” I scoff.
“Because you clearly hated where that led us, Miss Bedhead.”
I turn back to him with a smirk, armed and ready with a comment about his own mess of hair and ready to fire, until—“Wait.”
“What?” He smiles, certain he’s won this round.
“You never sit by me.”
He blinks. “What do you mean?”
“On the bench. You always sit across from me, in the chair.” I point for emphasis.
“So?” The corner of his mouth quirks upward, a typical sign of Slate not taking me seriously.
The waitress drops by our table, leaving four glasses of ice water with the promise to be back in just a second.
“Gabby and Karina are going to be here any minute. They’ll notice if we’re sitting in different spots. It’ll look like . . .”
Oh. Only now am I realizing how silly I sound.
“Like we’re together?” He leans closer and kisses me sweetly on the cheek. “They’re going to figure it out regardless. Hell, they probably already know. We weren’t exactly being inconspicuous at the club.” His voice drops to a sexy growl as he skims a hand up my thigh.
I swat it away as if to scold him. “That was totally your fault.” After the words leave my mouth, I realize I sound ten years younger than I am.
Slate stares at my lips as I speak, then he touches my thigh again with even more enthusiasm, giving it a good, hard squeeze under the table. I clutch his hand as he slides it to my knee.
“You’re incredibly frustrating,” he murmurs, his mouth close to my neck.
I place one hand over the front of his jeans, teasing him. “And you’re not? Besides, you’re incredibly hard.”
Karina is suddenly at the end of the table, with one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. She must have seen all of that grabbing in high definition.
Gabby, meanwhile, slumps into her usual spot across from me. She wears a grimace and a pair of chic hangover shades to top off her trademark morning-after look.
“Hey!” I squeak. My hands fly up to the table and not anywhere near my best friend’s penis.
“You two both look like you’ve run a marathon,” Karina says as she takes the seat across from Slate. The new arrangement definitely doesn’t escape her. She looks around, taking in the landscape with an amused smile.
“Something like that,” Slate says, and I want to pinch him.
“Hmm.” Karina sounds unconvinced. If she didn’t know before, she definitely knows now.
Chill out, Keaton. Why are you so nervous?
Maybe it’s because Slate and I haven’t decided when or how we’ll tell them. About us. God, I still can’t believe there is an us.
I clear my throat. “What took you guys so long?”
“Traffic, her hangover, et cetera,” Karina replies, rubbing sympathetic circles on poor Gabby’s back.
Gabby lowers her sunglasses, looking over them. “I may be dying, but at least I lived,” she shoots back with a sly wink.
Karina swiftly directs the conversation back on track. “So, anything new with you two?”
Does our groundbreaking, life-changing love story count?
With perfect timing, the waitress materializes at the end of our booth to take our orders. It’s burritos for Slate and me, apple-cinnamon waffles and black coffee for Gabby, and biscuits and gravy with a side of fruit for Karina.
Meanwhile, my thoughts are racing.
Why am I being like this? I’m neither embarrassed by my feelings for Slate, nor do I want to keep them a secret from Gabby or Karina any longer. So, why is it so hard to just say it? We’re more than friends. I try the words out behind closed lips but find myself swallowing them along with all my anxieties.
I imagine their wide eyes and worried tones . . .
Never date your friends! What if this makes it weird? What if you two fight or break up, and we have to pick sides? What does that mean for all of us? Have you two thought this through? What if it doesn’t work out and you two ruin the friendship you have? What if you ruin the friendship we all have?
These are questions I have, myself. And I hate that I don’t have the answers yet.
Under the table, a firm hand grips mine. I look at Slate. There are questions in his eyes too. But there’s a confidence in that classic sparkle of his gaze.
Comforted by the warmth of his hand and the clarity in his eyes, I feel my anxieties start to fade away. Slate is right here too. We’re together in this moment and the next. Everything will be okay.
“I’m going to say this now,” Slate says in earnest, “so no one throws up their brunch.”
“Okay?” Karina raises her eyebrows again in concern.
“I may lose those waffles regardless of what you say,” Gabby says with a quiet sigh.
Slate looks at me with a smile. I smile back. This is good. Then Slate says my new favorite combination of words.
“Keaton and I—we’re together now.”
These words fill me with an inexplicable joy. I would kiss him right now if I weren’t so preoccupied with the looks on our friends’ faces. Their blank expressions are giving absolutely nothing away.
We all sit in silence as the waitress pours us each a cup of coffee. The sound of each pour is a little more unbearable than the last. Finally, the waitress leaves us.
“Well?” I say, urging someone to say something.
Suddenly, Gabby crumples into heaving laughter.
Slate and I exchange a look. Of course.
“I thought you two had killed someone and wanted us to hide a damn body or something! You were so pale!” Gabby is almost in tears. “Oh my God, this is so good . . .”
Karina takes a sip of fresh coffee, her matte lipstick not leaving a trace on the ceramic edge. “I mean, I’m a little offended that you thought we’d be shocked, like this was actual news or something. It’s been so obvious.”
“Really?” I ask, baffled. Next to me, Slate runs a hand down my spine with a soft chuckle.
“Yeah, girl,” Gabby says. “Man, this is awkward. For you, I mean.”
“Thank you, Gabby,” I say through gritted teeth. I can’t figure out the look on Karina’s face.
“Can someone pass the sugar? I just can’t do black coffee like Mateo c
an.” She shakes her head in mild disgust.
My God, what is with these two? I want to shake them by their shoulders and bear-hug them at the same time.
Slate secures a handful of sugar packets for his own coffee before handing her the caddy.
“How long have you known?” I ask, wondering where we slipped our secret.
“I’ve known since the cat funeral.” Gabby picks up her glass of water and takes a slow sip. “Who plans a funeral for a cat? Slate was so obviously in love with you. Like disgusting in love, wants-to-father-your-child in love.”
“Okay now . . .” Slate leans forward to steal Gabby’s sunglasses, but she shrugs him out of the way. “You aren’t wrong,” he says, smiling.
My stomach does another flip.
“The cat funeral was really strange . . . and really damn cute.” Karina smiles warmly at me, with a look in her eye that says, You really thought you could hide this from me? “But, honestly, you guys are perfect together. I’m just glad you finally figured that out.”
Feeling sheepish, I smile back, a blush and a nod serving as the best apology I can offer.
Slate touches my cheek, his warm palm turning my face toward his. And then his lips press against mine in a sweet, brief kiss. “Love you, Keat.”
My heart swells in my chest, and I feel better than I have in years—or maybe ever. “I love you too.”
I expect some comment about how gross we are, or that public displays of affection won’t be tolerated, but instead I find Karina and Gabby grinning at us.
“You guys are too damn cute.”
The waitress returns shortly after with our meals. The four of us dig in, our laughter filling the diner and my heart with joy.
“Baby, I’m home,” I call, shutting our front door behind me with one foot. My hands are occupied with a plastic animal carrier and a shopping bag full of pet supplies. “And I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Keaton’s standing on tiptoe, her back to me, rummaging through the top shelf of a kitchen cabinet. “I hope it’s pizza, because I think I forgot to buy beef broth for the dinner tonight.”
