Jordan #2
“It happened often enough that I just told myself it was part of my process.”
“So you hand in whatever half-baked nonsense you managed to come up with the previous night, and the moment you do you really start to regret not doing more before the actual class?”
“If you think of this—” He gestures between us. “—as a paper for school, we’re doing something very wrong, because that is not the mood I was going for.”
I press my palm against my mouth and shake my head. “I should’ve… I didn’t do any groundwork, so I’m only now realizing just how terrible of an idea it is to ask a friend to help you explore your sexuality.”
He eyes me for a long moment. His brows furrow and his gaze jumps all over me.
“I disagree,” he finally says.
I stare at him, and he shrugs.
“Something like this takes trust. A friend makes sense.”
I open my mouth to argue.
“No, hear me out,” he says. “We’re friends, so I won’t push you or pressure you or try and coax you into doing something you’re not ready for.
I’ve got plenty of experience, so ask me anything.
Try anything with me. Explore. This will be between you and me.
I’ve never been here before. Never been interested in a friend.
To be fair, I’ve never been interested in anybody long term.
So this is as much uncharted territory for me as it is for you. ”
His gaze locks with mine. Holds.
“I don’t want you to start feeling like I’m using you. Like you’re just a means to an end,” I say.
“Yes, but I don’t mind you exploring with me,” he points out gently.
My shoulders drop.
“That’s kind of messed up, though, isn’t it?”
He shrugs. “Would you rather do it with somebody else?”
“No. I had a perfect date last night, and all I could think about was you. When she asked me to go upstairs after I walked her home, I couldn’t get away fast enough.”
“She was all wrong for you.”
I grin at the tight jealousy in his tone. “You’ve never even met her.”
“Call it a gut instinct.”
“Is that usually accurate?”
He scoffs and grins at me. “I don’t want to brag, but I’m one of the best in the business. I would make a killing if I starred in my own show.”
I bite back my smile. “The Medium of Park Slope.”
“You joke, but I could have a book deal in a snap.”
I laugh and shake my head. “And what does your gut tell you about us?”
“It’s cheating if I tell you everything. I wouldn’t want to deprive you of the joy of finding out on your own.”
“You’re so thoughtful.”
He gives an easy shrug and leans forward. “I’m just that kind of guy, I guess. But I will give you advice based on everything I already know. A hint to make good decisions, so to speak.”
I lean forward too. “I’m all ears.”
His smile is relaxed, but the look in his eyes is pure intensity.
“Try,” he says.
“That easy?”
“Try,” he says again. “With me. Try whatever you want with me, because we’re both reasonable people. All we need are some ground rules, and we need to agree to be open with each other and talk, and we’ll be fine.”
We’re both liars, and I suspect we both know it, because taking that step past the line of friends will erase any possibility of simply reevaluating and going back to the way things used to be. Life doesn’t work like that.
But I want it. I want him more than I want to contemplate the risks taking what he offers poses. There’s a small voice in the back of my head egging me on.
Go on. You never try anything. Just this once, take the leap into stupid.
And it is stupid.
I want to anyway.
It’s almost as if I’m a teenager again and not playing with a full deck of cards.
“Don’t overthink this,” Milán says.
I start to laugh. “Believe me, I’m not.”
“Good,” he says with clear approval before he turns serious. “Then let’s have some fun.”
He takes some of the pressure off with those words.
Fun.
It’s been a long time since I did something for fun. Something just for me.
“Let’s,” I say.
His smile is downright sinful. My heart picks up speed, banging in my chest.
The brakes are off. It’s full speed ahead.
And it’s exhilarating as fuck.
The rest of the dinner should be awkward. I expect it to be awkward. Instead, we talk like we usually do and laugh until my face is sore from smiling.
It’s all so normal.
But then the side of his foot touches the side of mine. By accident, I think at first, but he keeps it pressed against mine.
His gaze falls on me, full of unspoken promises of things to come, and there’s a shiver of anticipation in my stomach.
He finds reasons to touch me. Light, casual brushes of fingertips on my skin that tease me until even looking at him makes me shiver with anticipation.
We talk and talk and talk, about anything and everything, until we’ve stayed well past our welcome.
We pay the bill and head outside. I have a slight buzz from the wine and Milán’s presence; a heady combination.
“What do you want to do now?” Milán asks when we’re on the street in front of the restaurant.
We’re standing so close. Close enough that I can see the flecks of silver in his deep blue eyes. I’m not sure what’s next, but I want to stretch my time with him out as much as possible. It’s a good thing he seems to be on the same page and not willing to end the night yet.
“We can…” I press my lips together while I frown. “You know, this is the first time I truly realized just how many people we both live with.”
“Too many.”
“Want to come over anyway?” I ask. “We can watch a movie?”
“I’d love to watch a movie.” He sounds just as eager as I feel. Anything to get a few more hours together.
We walk back to my place. It’s late, so it’s quiet. There’s still light on in the basement, but it’s not unusual for Dad to tinker in his workshop till the early hours of the morning, no matter how many lectures I’ve given him about the importance of sleep.
We sit on the couch, starting out very properly, with a good few feet of space between us. We pick a random action movie and settle in. Milán’s lips twitch, but his eyes remain on the screen.
I barely pay attention to the TV, too focused on the only thing that matters right now—Milán sitting so close to me. Close. But not close enough.
The air between us thrums with tension as the movie flickers across the screen, scene after scene, casting flashes of color over the dim living room.
I sink deeper into the couch and bite back a grin as Milán pretends to stretch and settles back with one arm over the backrest. His fingers drum absently near my shoulder.
On the screen, a man and a woman argue dramatically, but all I can hear is the soft, steady sound of Milán’s breathing.
I shift, and my calf brushes Milán’s leg.
“Sorry,” I say.
He smiles, eyes still on the screen. “Why would you be?”
“I don’t want to… distract you from the movie.”
He glances over, held-back laughter making his eyes shine. “It would be a real shame to miss it.”
“You’re missing it right now.”
His lips curve, the smile slow and crooked. “Maybe I found something more interesting to watch,” he murmurs.
The air thickens around us, and my pulse stutters. I lick my lips, and Milán’s eyes track each movement of my tongue.
The movie keeps playing, forgotten.
Neither of us moves. It’s like there’s an invisible string that’s holding us suspended in the moment, waiting for someone to be brave enough to pull it.
My heart is thudding loud enough that I’m sure Milán has to hear it.
His gaze dips to my lips in a lazy, lingering look. A confident, slow sweep of a look that makes me feel things. My breath feels heavy in my throat, and the air turns hot around us.
“Jordan,” he says in a low voice.
It’s an invitation. It’s on me to take that first step.
I don’t need persuading. I lean forward, just an inch. A test. He moves the rest of the way.
The kiss is soft at first, barely a brush of lips.
An “are we really doing this?”
But then Milán’s hand slides to my jaw, warm and steady and sure, and whatever little bit of hesitation I might’ve carried with me melts away.
I shift closer, my knees bumping into his. He tugs me closer still, and we fall back against the couch cushions together. Slow and deliberate at first, Milán’s fingers slide into my hair. I can feel the warmth of his body pressed along mine.
Everything outside the living room ceases to exist while the kiss grows more intense. While we’re busy learning the shape of each other’s mouths, the rhythm of each other’s breaths, the way tension turns into fire between us.
I throw my leg over his and pull him closer. He leans on the cushion next to me, keeping us from tumbling over.
And we kiss.
And I’m so fucking into it.
He groans and pulls me forward, so I end up straddling him.
He slides his hands underneath my shirt, and my breathing hitches audibly.
Hot palms make their way from my back to my stomach, and my abdominal muscles tighten with anticipation.
I cup his face, his stubble scratching my skin.
It’s foreign and strange and at the same time somehow natural.
One of his hands is pressed against my back again. The weight of it feels like it’s grounding me while I sink closer.
I’m hard as a rock by now, pressing Milán against the couch cushions, my body seeking friction, my mind not exactly caught up to what I’m doing. I’m in a haze of need, and it stops me from being self-conscious, because let’s be fucking real, I have no idea what I’m doing here.
But I can feel his hard length pushing against mine.
And I like it.
I’m into it.
Milán’s hand tightens on my thigh, and I gasp.
“Jordy?” he pants softly.
“Yeah?” I breathe into his mouth.
“Somebody’s coming.”
It takes me a moment to hear it through the buzzing in my ears, but then I register the footsteps.
I fling myself off Milán and away from him. I hastily straighten my shirt and pat down my hair.
By the time Dad appears in the doorway, we’re back to properly sitting a few feet away from each other.
“You’re still up,” I say sternly. Also breathlessly. And I really fucking hope he can’t tell.
“Didn’t hear you two come in,” Dad says.
“We’re watching a movie.” I say it just a bit too quickly and maybe a tad defensively.
“I can see that.”
“It’s good. Interesting. Lots of intense scenes. A lot of… plot,” I say because my head is empty of all thoughts, and I can still feel Milán’s lips on mine.
On the screen, some dude jumps out from behind a corner and starts mowing the bad guys down with a machine gun.
Milán coughs into his fist like he’s trying not to laugh, and I send him a dirty look.
Dad quirks his brow at me before he shakes his head. “Well, I’m off to bed.”
“Night,” I call out.
A few moments later I hear his bedroom door closing.
I look at Milán.
A slow grin spreads across his face, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Close call,” he says.
I laugh again. “Sorry.”
He leans his cheek against the back of the couch and smiles at me. “For making out with me?”
“For the interruption.”
“It was probably a good thing. You’re ridiculously hot, and I was three seconds away from making some bad decisions.”
Heat creeps up from my chest, to my neck, then to my face.
He squeezes my thigh, fingers brushing over the inseam of my pants.
My whole body reacts, and I’m ready to throw myself at him again.
There’s a part of me that wants to rush, take everything he’s offering right here and now.
But there’s a calmer, sensible part of me, the more mature side, that knows how to appreciate this.
The slow buildup. Taking our time. Enjoying the ride.
Because we have time.
Lots of it.
“I have a proposition,” I say.
“I’m all ears.”
“I think you should kiss me some more. Skirt the edge of those bad decisions.”
He smiles.
“As it happens, that’s what I do best,” he says, leaning forward.
And then he kisses me again.