Chapter 7
Seven
FELIX
I have to piss like crazy.
Ember is passed out—understandable given the intensity of the panic attack she suffered, followed by a solid hour of the most agonized sobbing I've ever witnessed.
She's asleep on my lap, one hand curled over my thigh with her cheek on her hand, her other resting directly across my bladder. And…elsewhere.
Thank god I had my phone accessible so I could catch up on emails to distract myself from both my bladder and the unintentional intimacy of Ember's positioning. But now I'm out of emails to answer, I've scrolled through my various social media feeds until my eyes are crossing, and my bladder is screaming to the point that I can't ignore it much longer.
When I reach the point, after another fifteen minutes, that I know I have to go right the fuck now, I start worming my way out from beneath Ember, carefully replacing my lap with a throw pillow. Either I'm sneakier than I thought or she's out for the count, because she doesn't stir beyond nuzzling into the pillow and wrapping both arms around it.
I damn near sprint to my bathroom and take the longest piss of my life, groaning a sigh of relief. Wash my hands, check on Ember—still asleep.
I tiptoe out of my room, gingerly close the door, and head out to my back deck to call Nyx.
He answers on the third ring. “Yo, Fee, what's up?"
"No one says ‘yo’ anymore, Nyxie."
"Yeah? Well, I do, so fuck off." I hear a torque wrench zapping in the background. "What's goin' on, buddy?"
"My…uhhh…friend, I guess, has a vintage VW bus that took a shit. She said there was a grinding, a thunk, and then it conked out and won't turn over. She sorta lives out of it, too, so getting it fixed ASAP is a priority. Can you help?"
"Fuck yeah, I can. I actually have a bus in the back lot with a totally shot body and a low-mileage engine. Bring 'er by and I’ll hook her up."
"Make it as cheap as possible, yeah? I'll cover your expenses."
A pause. "She means somethin' to you, huh? This girl?"
I hesitate. "I mean…yeah. Maybe? Starting to? I dunno, man, it's complicated.”
"No, it fuckin' ain't, brother. You got hung up on Amy, convinced yourself that you're the worst person in the world, and never so much as dipped a fuckin' baby toe in the dating world again. If I didn't know you had a hookup on Tinder, I'd think you were celibate."
"It's not a hookup Tinder, man, fuck."
"No? Then what is it? How many girls from there've you been on more than one date with?" He laughs. "Wait, wait, wait, I’ll go you one better—how many of them have you even taken on a date? Because my sources say you usually skip the date and go right for the hookup."
"You callin' me a manwhore?"
"No. That's Riley. You're…I dunno what you are. A sad strange little man, and you have my pity."
"Fuck you and your Toy Story quotes, Nyx."
"Great! Now I have guilt !”
I groan. "Fuck off with it, seriously. It's weird."
“Fuck you. Real men watch cartoons, and Toy Story is the greatest animated film of all time. Fight me."
“You're a grown man, Nyx."
"The word I'm searching for I can't say because there are preschool toys present." Then, muttered: "Dick."
I laugh, rubbing my face. "If you weren't my best friend since kindergarten, I'd never talk to you again."
"Until you need me to unfuck your pathetic attempts at automobile restoration."
"ONE TIME!" I snap. "I needed your help one fucking time."
"JESUS, CONNOR! YOU WANNA KILL SOMEONE? THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" He shouts away from the phone and then groans a laugh. "New guy, man. I swear, he's dumber than a bag o’ hammers, but I've never met anyone who can rebuild engines better or faster. I mean, good god, he's dense. Yesterday, I caught him photocopying his phone so he could show his grandmother a meme."
"Bullshit."
DING . My phone chimes with an incoming message. I put the phone on speaker and open the thread with Nyx—he's sent me a video. In it, Nyx, recording, approaches a short, muscular young man with a shaved head and a long rattail chin-beard standing at a photocopier. And yes, he is photocopying his phone.
"Jesus," I mutter.
"Every day it’s something like that. Last Monday, Gibby convinced him that the shop computer was water-cooled and that it had run out of water."
I splutter. "No."
"Yes. I found him with a hose, squirting water into the CD drive."
"You have got to be shitting me."
"Nope. Once I got over my shock and then came down from the fucking roof, it was funny as fuck. That thing was older than Moses, so we needed a new one, but fuck, man. A water-cooled computer?"
I chuckle. "They exist, but they don't work like that."
"No fuckin' shit, Fee." He sighs. "Hey, I gotta bounce, man. Bring that bus over and I’ll get it goin' for your girl. And no, you won't cover my expenses. I just got one condition."
"That being what?" I ask, warily.
"Give this girl a shot. Like, all in, balls to the wall, heart on the line."
I groan, rubbing my face with my palm. "Nyx—"
"No, dude. I know you. You're already looking for ways to self-sabotage this because you think you don't deserve it."
"When did you go to therapist school, Nyx?"
"Oh fuck you. I know you. I've watched you self-isolate for the last decade and a half over a silly fuckin' childish mistake. You're so goddamn earnest you took that shit to heart and can't see your way to forgiving yourself. So you self-destruct anytime a woman shows you interest."
“I do not."
"So when Lia Fascinelli—"
"I am not discussing that."
"Because you know what I'm gonna say."
"She was batshit crazy."
"But hot as fuck and she wanted you bad."
"The phrase 'don't stick your dick in crazy' comes to mind when it comes to that woman."
"Sure, but look at her now—she’s mellowed out."
"Nyx."
"Fine. What about Dina Calloway?"
"Holden scares the shit out of me. And didn't Dina come out recently or something?"
"As bi, yeah. But I have it on good authority that she'd still be D-T-F if you said the word."
"Again, Holden Calloway. Don’t you remember the story Tommy Rooney told about picking her up for prom?"
"No."
"He brought Dina back an hour late and Holden shot him in the ass with rock salt from his sawed off twelve-gauge.”
"You're a grown man. Tommy Rooney was seventeen and a doofus."
"Tommy Rooney is still a doofus."
"Exactly," Nyx says. "Okay, what about Kelly Krapowski?"
"Now you're just being cruel."
He laughs. "Fine. We won't go there. But we will talk about Maria Hernandez."
I sigh. "That one, yeah. I self-destructed on that one. I wasn't ready. She wanted the whole deal, Nyx. She was talking about wedding dates and picking kid names on the fourth date."
"Listen, Fee, all joking aside, my point is that you owe it to yourself to fuckin' move on. Maybe this girl with the bus is it, maybe she's not. I dunno. Neither do you, neither does she—not yet. And you won’t unless you give her a shot without going out of your way to fuck things up on purpose."
"I think if I could get there with anyone, it'd be her," I murmur.
"Love that for you, bro. So just don't fuck it up."
I snort bitterly. "Easier said than done, Nyxie."
"What isn't?" he says. "A'ight. For real, I gotta go."
"See you later. I'll bring the bus over later."
"Cool. Be good, buddy."
" Me be good? You're the Three Rivers wild child."
He laughs. "I've outgrown my party animal ways, I'll have you know."
"Cole had to drive you home from The Cellar last weekend."
"A blip." He barks a laugh. "Why is it so fucking hard to hang up on you? Jesus. Fuck off, loser."
Click —silence.
Cody Nyx, ladies and gentlemen—my best friend.
I hear the sliding door and turn to see Ember shuffling out onto the deck, rubbing her eyes.
"Hey you," I say, extending a hand to her.
She takes it and lets me pull her to me, settling on my lap as if we've done it a million times. She leans her ear on my chest and just breathes for a while. "Thank you, Felix," she whispers.
"I'm just glad I was able to be there for you," I say.
She swallows hard. "It just…it hit me out of nowhere." She looks at me, her silver eyes searching, intent, wide. "I'm sorry for putting you through all that drama."
"Don't you dare apologize, Ember. I don't know what you went through, but it was obviously traumatic." I pause, tucking a stray tendril of hair behind the curve of her ear. "I'm honored to have been there for you. And if you want to talk about it, I'd love to listen for as long as you want to talk."
“You're sweet." She inhales deeply, holds it, lets it out. "Is it okay if I'm not quite ready yet?"
"Absolutely."
She licks her lips, bites the corner of her lower lip, searching my face. Lifts a hand and hesitantly rests it on my cheek. "I'll tell you everything, Felix, I promise. It's just hard. It's still pretty fresh, and—and I'm trying to convince myself that this is okay."
"That what's okay?" I ask.
“This." She rests her other arm on my shoulder, her fingers toying with the shaggy hair at my nape. "You. Me. This thing, whatever it is."
It hurts to put these words out there because they're the opposite of what I want, but it feels like the right thing to say. "There doesn't have to be a thing, Ember. If you're not ready, you're not ready."
She sniffs a laugh and gives me a lopsided smile. "Fee, I'm sitting on your lap. There's a thing. I just…I want you to know I'm trying."
"And I just want you to know that there’s no pressure, no expectations, nothing. I'm here for you. I'll help you with your van and you can stay with me—there are no strings."
She gazes at me, palm on my cheek, thumb brushing back and forth beneath my eye. "Felix, I…"
Her pink lips are plump and close, damp from her tongue sliding across them, parted, begging to be kissed. Moving slowly, I cradle the back of her head and lean in.
"Tell me not to kiss you, Ember," I breathe.
Her eyes are wide and bright and restless, her breath on my lips. "I can't," she whispers.
"You can't kiss me, or you can't tell me not to?" I ask.
"The second one."
"Fuck," I hiss.
She peers at me. "What?"
"You should have said no."
"Why? I thought you wanted to."
"I do."
"Then what?"
"I'll never be able to fucking stop."
I close the distance between us, and her lips are wet and warm and soft, and her mouth immediately opens for me. She whimpers quietly at this first kiss, and the sound is a live wire sending a hundred thousand volts through my body. She's so fucking soft in my arms, and her mouth is pliant and eager, her tongue dancing with mine. She leans into me, crushing the firm weight of her tits against my chest, and suddenly I'm hyperaware of the fact that she's sitting on my lap, and the curved spread of her ass is nestled over my groin.
I growl hungrily, pulling her closer and tilting my head to take the kiss deeper yet, and she responds in kind, bringing both hands to the back of my head, fingers diving into my hair at my nape and pulling me to her mouth. She's been sitting sideways on my lap, legs pointing perpendicular to the rest of me; now, she sweeps her leg over me to straddle me, humming an aroused groan as she feels my erection wedge against her ass.
I can't stop myself from grinding against her, can't keep my hands from carving down her back, from cupping the taut weight of her ass. She lifts to her knees, allowing me full access—I take advantage greedily, growling with aroused appreciation as I fill my hands with her ass. And my good god, what an ass. So full, so round—big, plump, firm, and fucking perfect. I claw into the soft swell of muscle over the denim, smooth my hands down to the tender silk of her thighs just below the rough denim and fraying hem, curling my hands inside between her thighs and up, and then grip the weight of it again.
She presses against me, clutching my hair and bending over me, kissing me at a downward angle, now framing my jaw to tip my head up. She sits down on me, grinding on my cock—making me ache and throb; I'm bent inside my jeans at a painful, awkward angle. I grunt in pain as she grinds against me desperately, and I'm forced to tilt my hips up to push her up and then sink back down and shove my hand in to adjust myself.
She moans, sliding down to sit lower on my thighs, digging her hands under my shirt to rake her fingertips down my chest and abs. Huffing into my mouth, nipping my lip between her teeth, Ember rips my fly open and yanks the zipper apart, cupping me where I spring into the opening.
"Fuck," I snarl. "Ember—Jesus."
My words break the spell.
She shoves away and lurches to her feet, staggering across the deck to slump over the railing, shoulders heaving as she pants raggedly. "Holy shit," she whispers. "What the fuck just happened?"
I'm shaking, aching, on fire all over, my raging erection so hard it hurts, leaking and throbbing. I close my eyes and breathe, trying to will it to go away.
"Felix?" Her voice is quiet, hesitant.
I try to zip my jeans, but they won't close over my erection. I hear her steps approach. I turn away from her, feeling guilty that I pushed her into something so fast, so intense when she had literally just finished saying she needed time.
"Sorry, I—" I shoot to my feet and stagger on unsteady feet for the sliding door. Pause partway through, turn to look back at her over my shoulder. "Ember, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let things go there." I squeeze my eyes shut, furious at myself. "I just—fuck. I'm sorry."
I don't give her a chance to respond, bolting for my bathroom and shutting the door. My arousal hurts like a motherfucker, straining against the confines of my underwear, but I can't bring myself to so much as touch it, because I know the only thing I'd think of is Ember, the soft weight of her incredible ass in my hands, her mouth on mine so hungry and wet and willing and eager, her hands cupping me over my underwear, the quiet whimper as we kissed…
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I brace my hands on the sink and close my eyes, breathing hard, trying to clear my mind.