Chapter 18
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
KENNEDY
Ifeel incredible. The happy, buzzy feelings are making me sleepy, and while it would be easy to drift off, I need to clean up after myself first.
A satisfied sigh leaves me as I roll my legs off the bed and then disappear into the bathroom for a washcloth.
As I’m rinsing it under the tap, I catch sight of myself in the mirror, and I couldn’t be happier with what I see.
Messy hair, bright eyes, relaxed expression—all markers of really good sex.
I have no idea where that sex came from, but Ziggy was into it, and I was into it, and goddamn, I was caught off guard by how hard I blew my load.
When I walk back into the bedroom, Ziggy is still spread across the bed, robe open, streaks of cum glistening on his skin, and the whole scene in the dim lamplight makes my mouth go dry. He’s beautiful.
He tips his head my way, hair falling over his face, and watches me approach.
Like always, he’s silent as I reach across him and drag the cloth over his skin, his stomach twitching at the contact.
I take my time, making sure he’s clean, spending probably more time than I need to at the piercing through his tip.
I’m not opposed to doing this all night, but he’s clean too soon, and then I have to move on to cleaning myself.
I know I need to tell him that it was great and make sure he’s not overthinking since he won’t say anything himself, but my brain is bobbing around in happy vibes, and my mouth won’t move.
Did I intend to be friends who fuck with Ziggy? Not at all. I think he might be the first attractive person I’ve met who I didn’t immediately try to date. Normally, I meet someone, fold myself backward to impress them, ask them out … and then crash and burn shortly afterward.
With Ziggy, it’s been easy. Spending time with him isn’t something I overthink. He’s him, and I’m me, and it works.
So how does sleeping together change that?
This high I’m enjoying slowly fades to a normal level. I ditch the washcloth in the bathroom, and after hesitating in front of the mirror again, I do up my robe before heading back out there.
He still hasn’t moved, so to avoid me being tempted into a round two, I lean in and kiss him softly while I close his robe as well.
“I can’t think while your dick is out,” I murmur.
His soft laugh brushes my lips as I pull back again. Then I settle on the bed, and he moves up to sit next to me.
We look at each other for too long to be normal, but it’s unnervingly comfortable with him.
“That was very fun and very surprising,” I say, testing to see if he’ll give me more information.
His smile is brief, and I’m shocked when he speaks. “It was my first time.”
His first … I stare at him as those words sink in. Well, sort of sink in. “In a hotel room?”
“All of it.”
All. All of it. The kissing and the sex and the hotel room and and and … Ziggy is fucking gorgeous, and he didn’t come across as inexperienced. I mean, he came as soon as my mouth was on him, but I assumed it had been a while. Not twenty-eight years.
“Huh.” My brain isn’t coming up with more words than that.
“Sorry.”
I can’t stand the disappointment in his tone. “No, you have nothing to be sorry about.” I struggle to bring my brain back online. “I’m surprised because I wouldn’t have guessed it. Seriously. That was … wow.”
His cheeks get redder as he tries to hide the way that lights him up. But I don’t want him to hide it. I want to see that light shining out of him all the time.
“I’m also very confused because how the hell haven’t guys been all over you? What was wrong with the queer men in Lincoln?”
Ziggy taps his lips, and I get what he means.
“You don’t need to talk in a glory hole.” By the disgusted face he pulls, I guess that answers that question. “Hey, don’t knock it until you try it. I mean, I only tried it once, and I was very, very drunk and heartbroken, but it was sex. Sex is good.”
His lips twitch. “Very good.”
I stretch across the bed, trying not to let that go to my head. “Outstanding.” And as much as I’d love to spend the night complimenting his skills, we’ve reached the part of the conversation I know needs to be had, but I’d rather avoid.
“What now?” he asks, proving that Ziggy has way more confidence than I give him credit for.
It’s also not a question I have an answer to.
My gaze strays from him across the room, and I try to separate my thoughts. On the one hand, sex like that is something I’m not turning down in a hurry, but … it’s Ziggy. He feels like my first real friend. The first person I’ve had a real connection with since my brothers grew up and closed off.
I’m worried that if we sleep together again, and again, I’ll fall into old habits. That my feelings will take over, and common sense will go out the window, and Ziggy will break my heart like everyone else inevitably does.
“I don’t want to lose you.” It’s the only truth I have for him. “I look forward to seeing you and spending time with you. I like having a friend who’s all mine.”
Ziggy’s hand covers mine.
“But also … it’s not only my choice,” I point out. “You have an opinion too.”
His glare doesn’t have much heat behind it, more like he was hoping I wouldn’t ask. I wait him out, hoping that with enough time, he’ll find the words he needs. Just when I’m about to give up, his mouth moves. “I don’t want to lose you either.”
“Okay.” That reply boosts me. “Then we don’t.”
Okay.
“We stay friends.”
Good.
I’m interpreting his nods with no idea if I’m getting it right, but he doesn’t correct me. It feels like we’re both on the same page, so that’s good … I think. “And we just … don’t do this again.”
I’m not sure if that’s a question or a statement, but Ziggy doesn’t answer. His large eyes are watching my face, more like he’s curious than offended or pissed off.
“Right?” I check, needing him to give me something.
His hold on my hand tightens briefly before he lets go, dragging his gaze with him. He pulls his knees up to hug against his chest as he looks at the bed. “You want to fall in love.”
I have no idea where he’s going with that. “Yes.”
“For the last time.”
I know I told him that only a few hours ago, but it sounds odd repeated back to me. No less true though. I can feel how tired my heart is of constantly being stomped on, and I don’t think I can put myself through that again. “Yeah.”
“How will you know?”
“What do you mean?”
It looks like he’s chewing on his tongue, maybe thinking about how to reword his question. “How will you know it’s the last time?”
That’s a question I’m not expecting, and in Ziggy’s soft tone, it somehow hits harder.
“I won’t. That’s the hard part.” My chuckle is self-deprecating.
“I’m a terrible judge of something like that.
I’m hit with so many this is it moments, and it’s never been it.
All that talk about listening to your gut is useless on me because my gut is obviously drunk and wearing lust goggles.
” That’s the sad reality, isn’t it? In my desperation to find the one, I’ll settle for anyone.
What if Ziggy is the one person who doesn’t get sick of me, and then a year down the track, I realize I’m only with him because I had no other options?
Ziggy deserves better than that.
He deserves to be the only option.
And aside from the sex we had, I don’t know if Ziggy is an option for me at all.
He’s never given me any reason to think he might be interested before now.
Maybe he sensed my attraction and figured this was his chance to lose his virginity?
I’m glad he picked me and that I made it good for him, but he’s not exactly pushing for a repeat.
Actually, he didn’t really give me an answer at all.
Can I blame him? All he’s heard me whine about is finding my forever person and smothering them when I do. It’s not like I’ve been selling myself to him, and if our positions were reversed, I probably wouldn’t be in a hurry to tie myself to this sinking ship either.
“I assume,” I start, wanting to pull myself out of this funk, “that I’ll know when I see it.
That when I fall for the last time, it’ll feel different to all the times I’ve fallen for someone in the past.” I look over at him, feeling hopeful, and slowly, Ziggy lets go of his legs and lies down opposite me.
He’s on his side of the bed, and I’m on mine, but when I roll to face him, it feels as intimate as if we were touching.
“It would have to be like that, right?” I ask.
“I have no idea.”
It really is ridiculous that every time I hear his voice, this little meep goes off in my chest. “I’ll let you know if I ever find out.”
That doesn’t get a response, not that I’m expecting it to, but Ziggy does reach for my hand again. His fingers link through mine, and he holds it like he has a right to be holding it. The lack of hesitation is hot.
“Tomorrow, I’ll drive us back to town, and then you’re not allowed to disappear on me. Understand?”
The sly look I get back isn’t an agreement.
“I’m serious. You said you don’t want to lose me either. Once we’re back there, it’s back to being friends again. Friends who sometimes tease each other about the time we had sex.”
I get a real laugh, and I swear that makes the whole night worth it.
“Deal?”
He shakes our joined hands, like we’re entering into a contract.
That’s good enough for me.
We talk—well, I talk—for a while longer, until my eyes grow heavy and I have to fight for every word. I don’t want to fall asleep. I want to take as much time with him as possible, but it’s been a long day, and the more I battle my tiredness, the deeper it takes hold.
Each long blink cements more details into my mind.
The glint of his piercings in the low light.
His chest teasingly on display by the robe.
And his hand anchoring mine to the bed, the warmth of it staying with me all night.