Chapter XIV
XIV
James
I feel like I’m levitating above my body as Lucy and I chug our drinks. Or at least Lucy tries to chug, then starts laughing again and spits. “I’m not very good at this.” Her black eyes are at their brightest.
“You can’t be great at everything,” I tease, and she presses a hand into my chest. I reflexively cover it with my own, so eager for every touch I can soak up, every sensation I’ve pined for over the last two weeks.
I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her right now, but I’m still not sure exactly where we stand.
So instead, I take her fingers in mine. “Come on. We’re dancing. ”
As we pass the karaoke setup, Asher and Delia are on to Lionel Richie’s “All Night Long”—which is somehow even sexier than the last song—and they’ve graduated to holding hands as they serenade each other. Definitely better off without us.
No one else is on the floor yet, but when I spin Lucy, half a dozen other people hurry to join us, apparently glad someone broke the seal and started the party in earnest. We dance near each other, not necessarily together, but whenever the chorus hits, we can’t help pressing our bodies together, finding a matching sway in our hips, and belting out the lyrics.
I find it nearly impossible to keep my eyes off Lucy’s face, her breasts, her hips, her hands. At one point, I forget to move at all as I watch her hips shake, dumbstruck. She catches me, grins, and throws her arms over my shoulders. I wrap mine around her waist and feel her relax into me.
“I’ve missed you,” she says.
“I’ve missed you too.”
We’re still swaying, but not to the rhythm. “So why didn’t you call?” she asks.
“Why didn’t you?”
“You initiated this. You go first.”
I’m too in the moment to think, to second-guess myself. “I was getting too attached.”
I feel her hand grip the back of my neck. The smallest crease forms between her brow. “Really?”
I nod. “You’re amazing, Lucy. I didn’t know how to—”
Before I can explain further, her lips are on mine. I feel a rush of blood coursing through my body as I sink into the kiss, holding her so tightly that I lift her off the ground. I run my hands up her back, then down to her hips. I know she can feel my excitement. All I want is to be inside her.
She pulls her lips from mine. “Follow me,” she whispers in my ear.
Lucy
I lead James behind the roof stairwell, where a wall shields us from the party. There are buildings surrounding us, but the sun has almost set. We’re veiled in shadow.
I press my back against the wall and pull James to me. I feel him getting harder as his lips and tongue run from my neck down to my chest. “Do you have a condom?” I murmur, and he suddenly pulls his head back, a heartbroken look in his eyes.
“I don’t, actually.”
I don’t know why that makes me so happy, that he didn’t start this night planning to have sex. It also doesn’t hurt to see him so devastated at the idea of not getting to fuck me. I fish into my purse. “I might.”
“Oh no,” he groans in an endearingly over-the-top way, his lips returning to my neck. “Were you going to have sex with that Greek god?”
I laugh, then finally find a condom tucked into the interior pocket.
I triumphantly hold it up to show him, and we’re both smiling as he kisses me.
I push him back for a moment to pull my underwear off, and he turns to the side to undo his pants just enough to get the condom in place.
As he brings his lips back to mine, I stuff my underwear into his back pocket. “Hold these for me?”
He grins and slides his palms under my dress, up my hips and thighs. “Anytime.”
Then he lifts my right leg, pulling my whole body slightly up the wall—still warm from the day’s sun.
My hips reach out to him, practically begging him to enter me.
He kisses me with urgency, but he makes me wait, the length of him pressed against me.
It’s like he wants to hold on to this moment, and so do I.
My whole body is buzzing in anticipation.
Then he presses his forehead against mine and slowly, deeply glides into me.
All the longing and anxiety of the last two weeks crumbles, and I feel an overpowering mix of relief and serenity.
I groan, and he hooks his elbow under my knee to bring my raised leg higher.
With his other arm, he braces against the wall so his head is next to mine.
I bury my teeth in his shoulder to muffle my sounds of pleasure.
His hot breath is on my neck: “God, I’ve missed fucking you. ”
As he starts to increase the intensity, each thrust has me thrumming toward climax.
Orgasm overtakes me, and I press my foot into his calf, seeking some semblance of steady ground.
If he let go of me now, my legs might give out entirely.
When I’m at my absolute pleasure limit, I tell myself to hold on.
I brace, and he comes with a long, guttural exhale.
We stand there, him inside of me, my leg still slung over his arm, catching our breath.
After a long moment, he releases my leg and gently smooths my dress back into place.
Still trying to catch my breath, I close my eyes and hope I won’t accidentally slide down the wall onto my ass as he takes care of the condom and buttons his pants.
When I open my eyes again, he’s next to me on the wall, and there’s a tightness in his jaw as he gazes out over the city.
“What is it?” I ask.
He takes a moment before responding. His eyes meet mine. “Was that our last time?”
I don’t want it to be. I catch myself before saying it. I’ve let myself fall into this for the last hour, but is any of it real? All the same problems remain. What if he and I—
He nudges my shoulder. “I can see you having some sort of internal debate. Just tell me what you’re thinking.”
I tug at the sleeve of his T-shirt, which has ridden up over his biceps, buying time. “It’s scary, though,” I whisper.
One corner of his mouth turns up. “It’s scary for me too.” Then he takes my hand in his, interlacing our fingers.
“I really like you,” I say, resigned. “Like, a lot.” He waits for me to go on. “But if you hadn’t cut things off, I was going to. Because the more I see you, the more I like you. And that’s not good.”
“I thought I was the only one.” His voice is even, and now I wait for him to say more. “I was falling so hard for you, but I didn’t think you felt the same way.”
I crinkle my brow and smile at him. “That’s so dumb.”
“Well, I mean, you didn’t say otherwise.”
“Neither did you.”
He smirks. “Fair.” He lifts an arm for me, and I turn into his body, letting my face rest on his chest and neck. We hold each other tightly as the sounds of the party—Rebecca’s full-body laugh and ’90s R&B—drift over us. “I wish we’d just been honest with each other,” he says.
I look down at our feet, unsure. “Would that have made it any easier?”
“I think so.” He sweeps my hair over my shoulder. “You don’t?”
I take a breath as my mind starts to spin again. “I mean, the last two weeks have been shit. And I think you’re right that not knowing how each other felt made it worse. But now that we do know where we are . . .”
“You still think we should end this?”
I should tell him of course I do. That this is never lasting.
I nestle deeper into his chest, not wanting to see his face. “Trying to get over you has really sucked. I don’t know. It feels like more time together just means extending . . . that.” I avoid using the word heartbreak, scared to reveal the true depth of my feelings.
James runs a hand up and down my arm as he thinks. If he agrees that it’s best for us to go our separate ways, there’s a decent chance I’ll start sobbing.
“Here’s the thing,” he finally says, his voice deeper and more somber than usual. “We have to say goodbye in two weeks no matter what, and that’s going to suck, no matter what. So.” He pauses, and I wonder if he can feel my heart pounding. “Why not hold off the pain for a few more weeks?”
I want that so badly, it’s frightening. “Don’t we then make it that much worse?”
“Maybe,” he says, calm and even. “But couldn’t we also make it better by ending on good terms? Our own terms?”
I suspect that’s not right. But I want to be hopeful. “Maybe.”
He leans back, lifting my face to meet his. I have no idea if this is the correct decision, but I also know that I’ve already decided.