Chapter 38 An Interesting Aftermath
The thoughts pile on while I listen to the rapid thrumming inside Issac’s chest. He breathes; I breathe. He moves; I move. In this moment, we’re not just agreeable or adaptable like the call of the moon to the tide, we are two hanging pendulum clocks that start swinging in sync, we are a swarm of fireflies flashing at the same time.
We are best friends who promised boundaries, a no-mess situation. But we just had wild, incredible sex. I should’ve printed out our rules and notarized the paper. As we lie here, I fight off panic, wondering how the consequences of our actions will unfold, but then Issac puts his hand on my shoulder. It’s a gentle reassuring gesture that I receive with a released breath.
“Do you regret it?” he asks, and even though his voice is cool and steady, I can hear the change in his chest, how nervous he is about the way I’ll respond.
“Straight to the most important question, huh?” I say, and feel his muscles stiffen. “I don’t know what I’m feeling right now, aside from anxiety. But I don’t think so. Do you regret it?”
He meets my eyes. “No, and I never will. I meant what I said sitting between those thick thighs on the carpet. I feel more for you than just sexual tension.”
Suddenly I’m scared. I want to save him, shake him, say, We both witnessed what feeling more could hurt like, why would you want that with me? But instead, I ask, “How do you know? What if the pretending got to your head? Made you think you have feelings for me? Being closer, more intimate, what if this is chemistry trying to imitate something else because we love each other as friends?”
The corners of his lips rise before he flips it on me. “Do you have romantic feelings for me? You know, other than the fact that you definitely want me to sex you silly all weekend.”
I slap his chest, laugh, and am again impressed that he can dial down my awkwardness. But then, I try to find the right words to tell him we’d never work. Because when considering the possibility that he has feelings for me, I must remember to consider this: He knows what he wants, but I don’t. He won’t hold on to someone who’s not his soulmate. What if we find out down the line that’s not me. Do I even want my soul to be bound to another soul? I don’t know if deeper discovery is a risk I can take, especially not with Issac. He’s crucial to my life.
“I can feel your mind running you ragged,” Issac says, lifts my hand, and kisses it. “Before you answer, let’s make another deal.”
I smile and say, “What are the terms?”
“That we’ll do more than have sex this weekend, we’ll spend it as a fake couple that’s no longer faking it, open-hearted, open-minded, fearless, then you’ll fly home and we’ll take a week apart to clear our heads. See where to go from there. You can decide what you want after.”
It’s like he’s dipped into my head and given me a free trial on discovery. But he’s making it seem like the decision is all mine. That he’s good with whatever I can give. “Why a week?”
“Because I already know how I’m going to feel, what I’ll want, and I doubt I can last longer than a week waiting to hear from you,” he says.
His words find a warm space in my chest, make breathing a little easier. He’s not pressing me to decide on anything, he’s not forcing me to tell him my feelings now.
“Okay,” I agree, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. I’m not sure this deal will change much, but I like to see him happy. I lick one of his dimples and he pinches my bare butt cheek. “I forgot we were naked under the covers.”
He shifts so that I feel how hard he is against my leg. “Lucky you,” he replies.
“Don’t start up again, I’m too tired now. You talking deals has depleted my energy.”
He laughs his beautiful laugh. “Pretty sure it was something other than my talking.”
“You’re full of yourself,” I say, and he doesn’t deny it. Just eases me off of him so we’re lying on our sides, face-to-face. He tangles his legs with mine, our bodies fitting together like tree branches. Then he reaches to brush my bottom lip with his thumb, tugs it down a little.
When our mouths meet, it feels sacred and special. I’m still taken aback by the tingling sensation. The way it spreads from our lips and works its way to my chest. Issac’s kisses can still time, stop and restart my heart.
I savor him slowly. But then it sparks a flame, and I can’t help but flick my tongue over his. He responds in kind, parting his mouth to let me in. We massage, tease, suck, and moan.
Before it can go any further, he stops and kisses my temple. My forehead, the bridge of my nose.
“As bad as I want you again, you’re tired and I’d rather you rest for tomorrow.” At my protest, he says, “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”
As soon as he says it my eyes start to flutter shut. He pulls the covers up, asks if I’m comfortable while playing with my hair. “I’m happy,” I say, and he hums a song until I drift into a dream.