Chapter 12
Bear
My parents believe us.
In fact, the moment they take the video call and see us cuddling, smiles split their faces. We give them the same story we gave Pen's parents. They respond with sadness when we explain about Pen's dad but, whenever we mention our wedding, they go back to clear excitement.
It's disconcerting. Unlike Pen's parents, mine have never made a comment about us. I didn't expect them to have much of an opinion about it.
"It only makes sense," Mamma says. "You've been friends for so long!"
"Don't tell us you've been waiting for this to happen, too?" Pen asks, echoing my thoughts.
"Of course." Pappa smiles. "There's something about you two that looks more like a couple than friends. But do you have a date for the wedding? You said six weeks. Is that official? We need to look at tickets."
"Will you need anything else from us?" Mamma adds.
I shake my head "I'm just happy you might come."
"You will probably have to keep it simple," Mamma says. "Too short notice."
"We're hiring someone to plan, I think." I glance at Pen.
"I'll send you Gramma's wedding set, of course. You might need to resize it before the ceremony."
My eyebrows shoot up. Gramma— my mom's mom— passed a decade ago. I didn't get to know her very well growing up, as she lived back in Norway.
Pen gazes at me with a question in her eyes. I shrug.
"What rings?" I ask my mom.
"She left me her rings when she passed. I've been saving them for you."
I raise an eyebrow. "And you're just now telling me? What if I had already gotten a ring for Pen?"
"She could have kept both. I don't see why not?" Mamma lifts an eyebrow just like I do. It's one of those reminders that I am in fact her son. "It's not like there's a maximum amount of jewelry she can wear."
Pappa smirks. "And she doesn't have a ring yet, from the sound of it, so it's all good."
My parents take a quick look at each other.
Mamma takes over. "Right, well, we need to go to work. We're sorry to hear about Sergio. I'm glad we'll get to see your parents soon too, Pen."
Pappa nods. "We'll let you know how it goes with getting time off and trying to go there for the wedding."
"We're really happy for you both." Mamma smiles. "Truly."
"Thank you, Sofie," Pen says. "I didn't expect the rings."
Pen stares at the screen with a wistful look to her eyes. My parents have always insisted she calls them by their first names.
"We'll keep you in the loop as we plan," I add.
We say goodbye and I put my phone on the bedside table. What did my parents witness through the years? They didn't see us interact nearly as much as Pen's parents, and barely at all over the past decade. Yet they thought Pen and I would fall in love.
Sometimes it seems like everyone always assumes we're secretly in love.
For the longest time I thought that it came from people who think you can't be friends with people you could be attracted to.
No one knows the lengths to which I've gone to prevent that from ever getting in the way.
But times like tonight, when my parents say they've seen something between us despite the distance, I'm forced to wonder why.
What if there had been something between us? Once upon a time?
Fuck. With her plastered to my side, it's a risky question to ask.
Except the kiss we shared is all the answer I need. Her reaction to it. Regardless of anything else, that is what I need to remember today. Except Pen and I are still cuddling.
My skin becomes hypersensitive everywhere we touch.
"Does this ruin your perfect future wedding?" she asks.
Fuck. I was caressing her shoulder, too.
Definitely couple-y.
Careful, Leon Karlsen.
I casually take my hand away. I interlock my fingers under my head. She doesn't move away, and I don't ask her to.
"What do you mean?" I lock my eyes on a light green plastic star.
"Those rings are meant for someone you're marrying for love— I mean, they were meant for the love of your life."
I bite back a groan. I want to caress her shoulder again. To comfort her. I don't let myself.
She still doesn't move away. Still dangerous.
Only seven to eight hours of finding my way through all of it. I can do it. What did she call it? Just biology?
Yeah, that. Probably that.
For good measure, I won't ask risky questions again. They might take me down a path that no one can come back from. Lines exist— invisible, sometimes, but they're there— and I cannot cross them.
"I don't know, Pen. The love of my life hasn't materialized yet. It's you who's here. It's you who I'm marrying first."
You're my best friend.
"I'm so glad you're not trying to be romantic about this."
I snort. "Of course I'm not. We're friends, and you hate that stuff."
"Right." She pats my chest in a condescending manner. "Thank you, I guess."
"Look at it this way," I say. "I never imagined giving those rings to anyone else, so I didn't connect it to falling in love with someone. They're family heirlooms I didn't know about. I haven't had a chance to romanticize them yet."
Pen shifts so she can look at me. One of her legs begins to hook around mine. My body wakes up— but so does she. The mildest reaction widens her eyes. She pulls away, all the way.
"Sorry—" she says. "You're just so warm— anyway. Rings? Romanticizing things? You were saying?"
If shock tightens her voice, that's just biology, too.
With my free hand, I run my fingers down my beard. "I was saying, these rings get to be yours. Like a friendship bracelet."
"What?" She laughs.
Her room is far enough from her parents' that we don't need to whisper, but she doesn't let out her laugh at full potency, either.
I smirk. "I said I'm marrying you as a friend. Those rings are yours— as a friend."
"Friendship rings, rather than bracelets."
"There you go."
"We'll see about that," she says.
I end up counting stars, all of them fake, glued to her ceiling.
I'm too aware of her proximity to fall asleep, and my body is too wired.
Pen isn't the only one who's been single for a while, even if it's only a couple of years for me.
My body knows it. It takes a couple of hours to convince it that I'm not about to do something new with Pen.
My last thought before darkness takes over is a reminder that she doesn't want me that way, and wouldn't want me to want her that way.
When I wake up the next morning, she has her hand on my chest again, her head on my shoulder. Her naked leg is hooked around mine… and I'm hard as a rock.
Fuck.
My body didn't process any of my warnings.
I gaze down at our entwined limbs. Whatever we did while asleep resulted in us kicking most of the blankets away. Her loose hair fans over my arm and shoulder. A tendril wraps around my neck, I think.
The small sigh of relief I allow comes out without a sound. My cock, hard as it is, rests heavy on my lower belly. I might be able to hide it. If I move gently and hide it under the thick comforter before Pen wakes up…
Eventually, the hard on has to subside. It will. It has before.
She stirs.
Fuck.
I grind my teeth. With movements oh so slow, oh so gentle, I snake a hand under the covers.
I mean to create some room, but muscle memory wants to take over.
For the briefest moment, it feels like I'm about to grip myself and rub one out.
Like I'm about to imagine someone I can't quite see but whom I love.
As if I'll use the hazy fantasy to envision the things I'd do to her, taking us to the edge over and over again, controlling and subjecting myself to all her desires in equal measure…
It's been a long time since I last had sex, and my body finds this is the best time to complain about it.
Well, too bad. Not this time. Not even casual jerking off today. Pen is in my arms, soft as she sleeps, and the images could intertwine way too easily. Not to say anything about the million other reasons this would be a terrible idea.
Fuck. Fuck.
I don't want to imagine what she would do if she knew I might have used my hand and thought of her.
The betrayal I could see on her face. The loss of trust.
With discipline I usually reserve for the field, I keep my hand away from my hard on. I lift the sheet and the comforter, creating room where I need it.
"Oh— sorry." Pen's voice comes out raspy.
She unwraps herself from me and pulls away again. I wince. I'd like to think she hasn't noticed my erection. If she does, well… I know what she would say.
Just bodies being bodies.
It helps because, to me, it's a reminder of what I've always known. She's not looking at me with romance in her heart, or sexy thoughts lighting her up. As long as I keep my hand away from dangerous places, we'll be safe.
"No worries," I say.
Listen, I say to my cock. Give it up.
"Can't blame me for what I do while unconscious." A half-chuckle leaves her, but it sounds self-deprecating.
"I can blame you a little bit," I say.
At that, she laughs. "Good morning to you, too!"
"I take it you had a good night? You must have been sleeping soundly if you ended up all over me like that."
"Right back at you. I don't remember you pushing me away in the middle of the night. And what if you pulled me close? We have no witnesses, Leon Karlsen."
My cock twitches, like it has an opinion on the matter.
I clench my jaw this time. "I guess we'll never know."
She sits up and stretches. Her long hair falls down her back, slightly messy from sleep.
"I did sleep well." She turns to gaze at me. "We'll get used to it, right?"
"It remains to be seen."
She snorts. "Please. Sleeping with me is a privilege."
"Never said otherwise. But I never knew you were like a koala and would treat me like a tree."
She raises an eyebrow then sits at the edge of the bed.
"Just a few more days," she says. "We'll go home to our own beds. It will be okay."
Sleeping a few more nights with Pen will not bring about the apocalypse. Morning wood won't either. No matter what my panicked heart thinks about it.
Whatever happens once we announce the wedding to our friends is an altogether different issue.