Thirty
Bri
“You are not friends,” Keisha says.
I’m sitting on the floor, assembling the fancy crib she and Kellen just bought while she judges me from the rocking chair in the corner. “What? Liem’s an amazing person.”
“Yes, which is why you’re in love with him.”
“I’m not in love with him.”
“And the sky is green, babe.”
She can be so annoying. Meddlesome. Nosy. “You can’t seriously think that. He lives in a different state. He’s successful, and I’m still sleeping in my friend’s guest bedroom.”
“And somehow that means you’re not in love with him? That’s not how that works.”
“It is, though. We’re great friends, but his lifestyle and mine don’t overlap outside of New York.”
“Except for when he flies you out for sex.”
“It wasn’t for sex. He really did need someone to save him from the cube of depression that was his apartment.”
“And you fucked the depression away.”
“Stop.” I laugh. “He lives in a small place. We shared his bed, so of course we . . .”
“Fucked like bunnies.”
“It was twice. Well, three times, kind of.”
“And how many times did you come?”
My jaw drops. “Keisha! Your hormones must be bonkers right now.”
“Yes. And do you not want to tell me because he can’t get you there and it will make me hate him? Or because he got you there ten times and you don’t want to hurt my feelings?”
She struggled for minutes to reach the strap on her shoe yesterday. She deserves this. “It was five times.”
Her eyebrows attempt to fly off her face. “And you were only hunching thrice? Oh, so he’s good good.”
Why say yes when I can say, “He had me holding on for dear life while he fucked the soul out of me.”
“Well, damn. I wasn’t expecting all that.”
“You started this!”
“Don’t you tell me what I did,” she says, giving me the side-eye. “Was he that talented, or was it good because you’re in love?”
“We are not—” There is no point in finishing that sentence. “He was that good. He said his last partner trained him well. Whatever she did was a damn public service.”
“I know that’s right.”
Why am I talking to a prosecutor and providing evidence of my guilt? “It’s not like that, though. He’s my friend, and I like having him around me.”
“And inside you.”
“Stop it. I forget how this even came up.”
“You said his flight is coming in earlier than his rental’s check-in time, which is why we’re going to be out of the house when he gets here. So you two can have alone time.” She thrusts her hips, which looks extraordinarily obscene while fifteen months pregnant.
“Thank you, but that’s not necessary.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Don’t ‘mm-hmm’ me, woman.” I laugh.
“Then don’t make me, liar.”
I brush her off. “Whatever.”
She acts like we’re going to start fucking the second he walks in the door.
~
So, we started fucking the second he walked in the door.
Seeing Liem changed everything. Standing in the doorway like he stepped right out of my dreams, wearing my favorite black hoodie, those slutty little glasses, and that panty-dropping smile. He looked good. So good.
When I let him in, I meant to kiss him the way I usually do, but I came in a little hot.
When he kissed me back, his tongue licking mine, his hands on my lower back and the nape of my neck, it fucked me up.
I got carried away. Then he carried me to my room.
Now, we’re naked, testing the structural stability of the bed frame.
Liem moans against my neck, and I see stars in the middle of the day. I’m splayed out beneath him, one hand fisting his hair, the fingers of the other interlaced with his beside my head.
I’m shaking when I cry out, “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” as if he can’t tell.
“Me too,” he pants. I want to feel it.
“Take the condom off,” I say.
I ruin his rhythm. “What?”
“We don’t need it. I want to feel you come inside me.” My IUD is the love of my life, but if it suddenly stopped working and I magically became fertile, even still I’m not ovulating—my ovary would be sure to let me know. The trepidation on his face makes me pause. “Only if you want to,” I say.
Looking down at me, flustered and aroused, he answers, “I want to. But are you sure?”
I nod. “Take it off.”
He pulls out of me gently. His pace changes drastically while he tears at the condom to get it off, then he eases back in. Both of us let out the same shuddering moan, causing us to smile. It’s hard to feel more connected to him than I always do, but this is everything.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he says against my cheek as he eases in and out slowly, letting me feel every detail of his head dragging against my sensitive walls.
It feels even better with nothing between us. Skin against skin, it’s more real, more intimate. The way he makes my body sing, for a moment, I forget what it feels like to be in pain.
I give in to the pleasure completely. I’d feel bad for having loud sex in someone else’s house if I could feel anything other than his dick stroking inside me and the orgasm building.
His grip on me tightens, his moans becoming pained while he holds on, waiting for me to fall off the edge with him. Then, I do.
Our bodies quake together, clashing yet completely in sync. Our moans mix for what feels like a minute, the orgasm so strong I wish it would never end.
As we start to come down, he leans up from me, giving my lungs space to breathe. “Sorry,” he says. “I probably could have said more than ‘hi’ before jumping on you.”
“How fucking dare you give me an orgasm before saying hello.”
He laughs and slips from me, looking around. “Bathroom?”
Such a gentleman. I point him to it, enjoying my warm fuzziness while he retrieves a towel.
He hands it to me and lies by my side, covering himself with the blanket as if he’s shy. God, he’s so fucking cute, nailing me into the mattress then blushing about it. I reach up and ruffle the curls I’ve all but ruined. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you more,” he says, the smile about to take over his entire sex-drunk face. “It’s been ten minutes, and this is the happiest I’ve been in weeks.”
Since you last saw me. I’m not daft enough not to understand he’s saying I’m the best part of his life. I play it off. “Sex chemicals are the shit.”
“They are.” His eyes stare into mine then drop to my lips.
The most confusing time for us is right after we cross the line. If it’s hard for me to look at him and not see more than a friend, I can only imagine what it’s like for him.
To break the tension, I climb off the bed and grab my clothes from the floor. “I forgot I have to go walk Barkenstocks.”
“Barkenstocks?”
“Yep. He’s right up the street, it won’t take me long.”
“Is it okay if I stay here? I’m a little tired,” he says with a flirtatious smirk.
He put in good work. He deserves a little nap. “After making me come like that, you can do whatever the hell you want.”
“Like move here and get an apartment with you?”
That catches me completely off guard. “Excuse me?”
“It’s a joke. Kind of.”
I hop to help pull up my shorts, pretending my heart is pounding from the exertion rather than his suggestion. “What do you mean ‘kind of’?”
“I know you don’t want to leave LA, but I’m about done with Seattle,” he says. “I was thinking about San Francisco. My company has an office there, and there are plenty of other tech companies in the area. Then I’d only be a car ride away from you instead of a flight.”
If he wanted to get away from work, I’d understand, but I can read him better than that. He wants to move so he can be with me.
I stare at him, waiting for him to catch on to what he’s suggesting. Moving to another state to be with someone who can’t give him the love he needs? That doesn’t sound familiar to him? He’s joking.
“Babe, stop,” I say with a laugh. “You can’t play with me like that after sex. I thought you were serious.”
What I meant as a tease makes his smile fade away. He is serious.
“Wait. You really want to move to California?”
“Is it so bad to be a little closer?” he asks.
“San Francisco’s a six-hour drive compared to a three-hour flight. That’s not that much closer, logistically.”
He shrugs. “A drive is easier than dealing with the TSA.”
It doesn’t make sense for Liem to leave Seattle.
Even though his family wouldn’t mind the distance, he would go from being mostly alone in a city he knows to completely alone in a new place, virtually no closer to me than before.
We’ve seen each other twice since we left Brooklyn.
If that’s not enough for him, that means he wants more.
I can’t give him more when I still have nothing for myself. I have too many dreams to achieve before I can think about having more.
My phone’s alarm interrupts the awkward silence. “Shit, it’s later than I thought. I’ll have to go to the museum right after my walk.” That’s true, even if it makes for a convenient excuse to avoid this conversation. “Are you good to ride to the event with Keisha? She’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Yeah, I’m good.” Then tell that to your face.
“We’ll talk more after the event, okay?”
His smile perks up, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Okay.”
I kiss his cheek then run out the door, running away from the conversation as well.
We’ll talk when I can figure out a way to tell him no without ripping his beautiful heart to shreds.