32 - Nathan
Nathan
It’s nice being invisible.
We’ve been walking for thirty minutes, and not a single person has recognized me so far.
It might be a record. The nighttime helps, along with the coat and beanie pulled low over my ears.
But I also like to think it’s because I’ve never walked around downtown, holding hands with a woman in public before.
Whatever the reason, people pass us by without looking twice.
The early evening cold presses against my cheeks, sharp enough to keep me alert but not uncomfortable.
Last night keeps replaying in my head in flashes.
Christmas at her apartment with her family.
They were great. Seeing how much love and appreciation flowed between them twisted the knife of my own family issues a little deeper.
But after the initial ache, it was nice being a part of it.
Whether it was dinner conversation or the games afterward, I’d felt like I belonged in a way I don’t with my own family.
And then there was the car. The kiss.
I’ve kissed more women than I remember. I’m not proud of it, but it’s nothing I can change now. Until Wesley, I would’ve told you that kissing is nice. Good foreplay for the better things to come. But I never knew what I was missing.
Kissing Wesley is like coming up for air after being underwater for years. It’s like folding into warmth after walking through an endless winter storm. It’s like a match striking in dry grass, the flames burning fast and uncontrollable.
It’s not nice. It’s not good. It’s everything. And it’s also really fucking with my head.
Which is why when she showed up at my doorstep earlier, after her family left, I took her out to dinner instead of inviting her in.
All I wanted was to throw her over my shoulder, carry her straight to my bedroom, and spend the next few hours learning every single reaction she has to my hands, my mouth, and my cock.
That’s what we’re supposed to be doing. That’s what ‘benefits’ means. Instead, we keep fucking kissing, which feels more intimate and dangerous.
This all started because I played better after working out with her.
Sure, I also thought hooking up with her would be great.
I’d have to be blind not to think that. But Christmas with her family, romantic nights like this, and the very real feelings I’m starting to have for her, were never part of the plan.
All I want to do is figure out if she feels it too, but I’m not sure I can take it if she doesn’t. She’s said it’s a fling until her team party. I’m determined to respect that boundary even if I’m starting to want something more.
“I haven’t walked through these lights in a couple of years,” Wesley says, her head turning as she takes in each new display with childlike wonder.
“Me neither,” I confess. “I forgot how many there were.”
She walks close enough that our shoulders brush every few steps, close enough that I can feel her warmth through both our coats. Her fingers stay threaded through mine.
Her breath fogs in front of her as she exhales, white mist disappearing into the glow of the streetlights. Hair falls loose around her shoulders, slightly messy from her hat. Her cheeks are pink from the cold.
“Do you want to stay in Boston long-term?” I ask. I’ve been wondering since I saw her with Emma yesterday. It must be hard being across the country from them.
“Yeah, I really do.” She waves back at a baby who keeps staring at her. “I can’t really see myself anywhere else. As much as I hate being away from my dad and Emma, I might hate where they live even more.”
“Why?”
“That house and town remind me of my mom. I was fourteen when she died, and it’s like I have too many memories of her there. I can’t go anywhere without being reminded.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “That makes me sound awful.”
“No.” I squeeze her hand gently. “It sounds honest. I get how it would be hard to be reminded of your darkest experiences every day.”
She nods. “Yes. Exactly that.”
Then she shifts the conversation, and I let her.
“I’ve tried talking them into moving out here.”
“If that’s what you want, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time,” I say, grinning and bumping my shoulder into hers.
“Are you saying I’m bossy?” She blows out a breath, pushing her hair out of her face.
“Are you saying you aren’t?” I raise an eyebrow.
“It’s not my fault that I’m usually right.”
“Except when you said you weren’t a fan of hockey players.”
“What makes you think my opinion has changed?”
“Just a feeling.” My lips tilt up.
“Yeah, well…” She bites her lower lip like she’s thinking about what she wants to say next. “Maybe sometimes I’m wrong too.”
We turn with the path, so that we can keep watching the twinkling lights of the city’s Christmas tree. We’ve circled it three times already, but neither of us makes a move to stop.
“What are we doing?” It’s a whisper, her lips barely moving to form the words.
“Walking.” I keep my tone playful, even though I know that’s not what she’s really asking.
“When I showed up at your door tonight, I expected sex.” She laughs.
“Wow. That’s a pretty big assumption. What would’ve given you that idea?” I swing our arms slightly.
“Seriously, Nathan.” She stops walking. “I don’t do this kind of thing. This whole fake-dating, friends-with-benefits shit. I don’t know the rules.”
Friends-with-benefits. Hearing the words makes my stomach turn over.
“Trust me, you do the benefits part just fine.” I wink, but she doesn’t laugh, and I know I’ve dodged the question long enough. “It doesn’t feel right to have you show up, have sex, then have you leave.”
Her eyebrows scrunch. “Isn’t that what this is supposed to be?”
It is. That’s exactly what this is supposed to be.
“You’re forgetting the friends part of that arrangement.”
“So, that’s what tonight is?” Her lips tilt up. “Just friends?”
She doesn’t even realize the words sting.
“Yes, Wesley. I like hanging out. We’re already working out together, going on fake dates, and enjoying some very nice benefits.” I nudge her. “Why not add some actual friendship to the list?”
There is no part of me that wants to be her friend.
She nudges me back. “I like being your friend.”
My heart swells at her confession, until…
“I’m glad you can separate the two. And that you understand why it can’t be anything more than that.”
My heart deflates just as quickly.
We make it another half block before she slows.
I follow her gaze to the bakery on the corner. Warm golden light spills through the windows, making the snow-dusted sidewalk glow faintly. The smell of sugar and baked bread drifts through the cold air every time the door opens.
I glance at her. “You want something from there?”
She hesitates like she’s deciding whether wanting something is allowed.
“I haven’t had one of their chocolate croissants in forever,” she says. “They’re really good.”
“Why not get one?”
She shrugs. That’s not really an answer, but it’s enough.
I tug on her hand. “Come on.”
“Wait, I didn’t say I wanted one.”
“You did.” I guide her toward the door. “You said they were good. I’m acting accordingly.”
She laughs under her breath. “You are ridiculous.”
The bell above the bakery door jingles when we walk in. Warm air hits my face immediately, carrying cinnamon, chocolate, and butter. My stomach forgets that I just had dinner an hour ago.
Wesley is already at the display case, eyes scanning while trying not to look too excited.
I lean against the counter beside her.
“Which one?” I ask.
She points at the croissant without touching the glass. “That one.”
“Only one?”
She glances at me. “Yes. Only one.”
I order two because I want to taste the pastry that makes her eyes light up like that.
We step back out into the cold with the paper bag between us, steam still faintly rising from inside.
She doesn’t wait more than thirty seconds before pulling the croissant out.
She takes a bite.
And then she makes a noise that should be illegal in public.
It’s low and soft. Completely unguarded. My body reacts immediately, cock straining against my zipper. Wesley shouldn’t make that sound for anyone, but me. Ever.
“Jesus,” I mutter.
She glances at me. “What?”
“You can’t make that noise when we’re surrounded by people.”
“Why not?” She grins, clearly pleased with herself.
“Because it makes me want to take you around the corner, into that alley, and draw that sound out of you with my tongue.”
Her cheeks flush. “Oh.”
“Yeah. So, unless that’s what you want, stop it.”
She takes another bite, looking me directly in the eye as she makes the sound again.
“You’re trouble.” I step toward her and cage her gently against the brick wall.
“Not usually.” Her voice comes out breathy.
I reach up slowly, giving her time to stop me, and brush my thumb across the corner of her mouth, catching the smear of chocolate she left there.
Instead of pulling away, I slide my thumb to the center of her lips. She parts them just enough to suck it into her mouth.
Her pupils blow wide as she swirls her tongue around my thumb.
I instantly regret not doing what I wanted to when she first showed up at my door. If I had, I’d be buried inside her right now instead of fighting off a public erection.
“How’s it taste?” My voice is gravel.
“Find out for yourself.”
The words are full of suggestion. I have a second croissant in the bag, but there’s only one way I want a taste.
I lean in, pressing her more firmly against the wall, and kiss her.
It’s slow and languid. The taste of chocolate and her is immediate and overwhelming.
There’s no way that two more weeks are enough. I could kiss her forever, and it would never be enough.
Maybe it’s because of how she supports me and jokes with me.
Maybe it’s because she’s focused and committed in a way that inspires me.
Or maybe it’s because the past three times we’ve been together, we’ve only kissed, and it’s been better than anything I’ve experienced with anyone else.
Whatever it is, I know now that I’ve been lying to myself.
There is no way that she’s a fling for me.
Her fingers curl into my coat, tugging me closer until I am very aware of how little distance exists between us and how badly I want to erase it completely.
The street is still moving around us. People walk past. Someone laughs loudly farther down the sidewalk. Cars pass, tires hissing against wet pavement. Nobody pays attention to us.
It’s dangerous because it makes me feel like we’re completely alone. It’s why I push my leg between her thighs, parting them to feel her heat.
Her hands slide up under my coat, fingers pressing into my sweater. I can’t tell if she’s grounding herself in me or pulling me closer.
My pulse is loud in my ears.
I break the kiss to breathe, but I don’t move away. My forehead rests against hers while I try to remember how to act like a normal person in public.
“Chocolate croissants were a good decision,” I murmur.
She laughs quietly. “You’re only saying that because you’re currently high on pastry and inappropriate PDA.”
“Incorrect,” I say. “I’m currently high on you.”
It feels like more of a confession than I should make. Something more than the boundaries she keeps setting. But I don’t take it back.
She swallows hard, but she doesn’t look away.
Instead, she kisses me once more. This time it’s quick and sweet.
We stand there for a little longer, pressed against the wall, breathing each other’s air while the Christmas lights from the storefront across the street reflect in the dark windows around us.
This might be a fling for her, but she has to know it’s different for me. Doesn’t she?