Chapter 12
LEO
Wednesday, November 22
Three Weeks Later
I blocked out my schedule for my usual evening appointments, taking my last client at 4 PM. I told Vivian I’d pick up dinner for both of us. With Thanksgiving tomorrow, we wanted to take advantage of the holiday and enjoy a weekend evening in the middle of the week. Our plan is to devour Thai food, watch movies, and have a drink. Drinking is something we usually reserve for weekends, Vivian even less than I do. I’ve made it a rule for the past decade: unless it’s a holiday, or I’m on vacation, I only drink on weekends. It’s one of the things that makes us click even more.
At 5:15, I text her.
Leo: Hey, I’m on my way. Do you want to order the Thai? We can DoorDash it?
Vivian: I’m on it.
Leo: ETA 20 minutes. FYI—Booked our hotel for Paris today. You’re going to love it.
Vivian: Yesssss! Can’t wait for you to show it to me.
My office is close enough to walk. It’s cold, but not too cold for a ten-minute walk… yet. I pull my arms through my coat sleeves and head to the elevator .
The past few weeks have been a whirlwind. Vivian and I were already spending a lot of time together, but since that night on the rooftop, we’ve stepped up our efforts, making sure to see each other for at least a few minutes every day, whenever possible. She has become the kind of friend you wonder how you ever lived without.
That’s the problem, though. We’ve become close. Really close. That night on the patio opened a door to physical exploration that I never should have touched. I’ve slept with a lot of beautiful women, but none compare to her. None have been nearly as cool, either. Every time I say goodbye to her, I ask myself what the hell I think I’m doing. I have no business spending this much time with her when I know what she’s seeking is something I don’t want. Period. I can’t seem to help myself. It’s selfish, I know. I’m feeding my ego every day, and it’s a dangerous road I’m heading down.
I walk home on autopilot, lost in my thoughts, the city noises blending into the background like the white noise machine we use in the clinic hallways. I arrive home, retracing my steps without recalling a single detail of the walk, except for the vague sense of being surrounded by people.
After changing out of my work clothes, I head to Vivian’s and let myself in. “Viv?” My voice echoes through the foyer.
“In the kitchen!”
I make my way through the living room, finding her removing lids and placing utensils into containers.
“Hey, perfect timing. The food just got here,” she says, dropping everything to greet me with a hug. Wrapping her arms around my back and pressing her ear to my chest, she inhales deeply, almost like she’s savoring my scent.
I respond with the same enthusiasm, my arms folding around her small frame. I resist the urge to bury my face in her hair or kiss the top of her head.
“How was your day?” she asks.
“It was good, busy but good. How about yours?” She releases me from her grip and goes back to prepping the food.
“Same. Really busy. I’m going to have to do some work in the morning before we go to Michael and Stella’s. Construction started on two homes in the past three weeks, and we start another one next week. It'll be crazy busy, plus I might be working with another client starting next week.” She gestures for me to grab a plate and start dishing up.
“Were you on sites today or at the office?”
“Both.” She pauses. “I met with the general contractor today… Nick. I’ve met him multiple times, he’s a nice guy.” She stops, and I can tell she’s debating whether to tell me something.
“And?” I ask.
“And what?”
“And… he’s nice?” I ask, spooning a heap of rice onto my plate.
“Yeah… he’s nice… and he asked me out,” she says nonchalantly.
“Oh.” Oh! “And what did you say?” I ask, watching her body language to gauge her feelings.
“I said yes. He’s going to take me out on Saturday.”
She looks happy about it, and something like jealousy sinks into the pit of my stomach. It’s a foreign sensation, one I hardly recognize.
“And you’re happy about this?” I ask warily, raising a brow.
“Yeah, I am.” She responds too quickly, as if she didn’t even have to think about it. She’s actually excited about the prospect of going out with this guy… Nick.
“Well, that’s great, Viv. I’m happy for you. I hope he’s great and that you have fun.” Too much, I think. An overly exaggerated response of excitement about her going out with some random guy.
We chat about life while we eat. Vivian tells me in more detail about her work and clients. I love watching her talk. She’s so animated when telling stories, using her hands, and her laughter always warrants a laugh from me because it’s so cute and genuine, like she can’t help herself.
“Oh!” she exclaims, “you were going to tell me about Paris. You booked our room?”
“Yep. I booked us six nights at the Four Seasons. It’s close to the Champs-élysées, which has great shopping and food. It’s a great place for getting around the city.”
“Oooh. The Four Seasons? Seems a little extravagant, but I’m not complaining. ”
“Well, it is for your 30th, yeah? It’s a big deal, you’ve got to exit your twenties with a bang.”
“I knew you’d come in handy one day,” she says, giving me a cheeky look. “I guess it pays off having a filthy-rich friend.”
“At least I’m good for something, Walker.” I lean back, crossing my arms and glaring at her, teasing her. I’ve realized I now use different names for her in different situations. When I’m joking or teasing, it’s Walker. When we’re just chatting, it’s Viv. When things are more serious, it’s Vivian.
“And what if I meet a charming, handsome Frenchman who sweeps me off my feet and wants to seduce me?” she asks dramatically, raising her hands in an exaggerated flourish before taking a bite of her curry. “Can I tell him you’re my rich older brother? How would I bring him back to our room if you’re there? We’ll need to devise a plan, because I’m not going to deny myself the attentions of a man on my 30th birthday.” She stares me down, waiting for my reaction with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Hmm, let’s see.” I rub my chin thoughtfully. “You could be my escort—very Pretty Woman of you—or maybe you’re dating my father for the money and I’m your soon-to-be brother after the nuptials. Those are both fun options. As for bringing men back to the room, we’ll need a plan. Maybe we have a code word for needing the room for sex, because we know I’m going to need it.”
She scowls at me. “Would you really pick someone up in France while you’re there with me for my birthday?”
“Would you ?”
“I think it’s obvious based on my history what the odds are of that happening… And based on yours… well, we know the odds are definitely in your favor.”
I clutch my chest. “You wound me. I can go a week without sex.”
“Can you?” She cocks a brow. “I have yet to see it. What if you meet a gorgeous woman in Paris who’s beautiful and chic? You’d turn that down?” she asks skeptically .
“I’d never ditch you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I say seriously, sensing she might actually believe I would. “But if anyone should be worried, it’s me. You’re stunning, and every man in Paris will be turning their heads, saying”—I attempt my best French accent—“‘Who is this beautiful American woman? I must know her.’”
“Stop.” She chuckles, “Okay, neither of us are getting laid in Paris.”
“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say that… there’s always the possibility of you and me getting drunk and having a bit of fun together.” The words are barely out of my mouth before I regret them, a flicker of panic setting in.
Her eyes widen in surprise.
I stammer, searching for a way to undo what I just said. “I… I’m joking. Obviously, I don’t really mean that. I even booked a room with two doubles.” I don’t know why I say that. The hotel doesn’t have rooms with two doubles. They have suites with a king or two twins. There’s no way in hell I’m sleeping in a twin bed, so I booked a king. There’ll be ample space for both of us.
She laughs, “Are you planning to roofie me? Because that’s how out of it I’d have to be for that to happen.”
I give her a smug grin, rolling my eyes. “Three drinks is all it would take to get you into bed with me.”
“Wow. You’re feeling mighty confident about your seduction skills. Three drinks is not that many.”
“Well, like you’ve said, based on my history, I am quite successful when it comes to seducing women. I’d have you begging, Walker.”
“Pff,” she scoffs. “I may not have as many conquests as you, but trust me, if I turned on my sultry side, you’d be the one begging.” Her eyes narrow with playful challenge, a sly smile curving her lips. There’s a confident gleam in her eye, and her voice drops to a seductive purr, making the air between us sizzle with tension.
I let out a mocking laugh. “Game on, Walker!”
She stares me down, folding her arms. “Game fucking on, Leo. ”
We hold our stare for a few seconds, both trying not to smile, before the tension breaks, and both start laughing. I’m not really sure what we just challenged each other to, but it’s bound to be interesting.
“Oh God.” Vivian’s laughter subsides. “What movie do you want to watch?” she asks, shaking her head. “Action or comedy?”
“I’ll watch either.”
“Just pick one. I picked the last one.”
“Okay, comedy then.”
“ The Hangover or Wedding Crashers? ” she asks, clearly having thought about it, since they were right on the tip of her tongue.
“ The Hangover, it’s been a while since I’ve watched that.”
“Done.” She clears the dishes and takes them to the sink. She’s wearing leggings… again. She’s always in sexy Lululemon athleisurewear at home. Tonight, it’s gray leggings that make her ass look ridiculously good. I almost hate it when she wears leggings. Every time she turns her back, I can’t help but check her out. Her cropped sweatshirt reveals just enough of her toned stomach to get me thinking about what else is under it. Vivian has the sexiest abs—toned and defined but still feminine. This is exactly why I need her to put on some ugly, baggy clothes… although those would be fun to remove too.
I’ve got to get my shit together. The mere thought of her is making me hard. We pour ourselves some wine and settle on the couch—a camel-colored leather sectional. It’s incredibly comfortable.
No big deal; we’ve watched dozens of movies here. But lately, Vivian has been scooting closer, practically snuggling up to me. And at the end of the day, I’m a guy, and it’s tough not to want her this close.
Vivian sits on the chaise part of the U-shaped couch, stretching out comfortably. I sit on the opposite side, extending my legs as well.
“What are you doing over there?” she frowns. “Why don’t you come over here so we can actually watch the movie together, ” she says, patting the chaise.
God, Vivian, because I don’t want a hard-on for the next two hours.
“I’ll come over there if you'd like.”
She hesitates, “Well, you don’t have to,” she says. She’s being passive-aggressive, and my only move is to clearly go and sit by her, where she will be an absolute tease for the next two fucking hours.
Hesitantly, I walk to the chaise and sit next to her, folding my arms, giving her closed-off body language… just friends body language. We can sit here next to each other on the couch, no problem. We cannot intertwine, no body language suggesting we’ll be getting physical at any point during the movie.
She doesn’t seem bothered by my standoffish behavior. She sits next to me, her shoulder nestled into my arm, and extends her legs out long, crossing one over the other. She sets her arms on her lap. It’s comfortable. It’s appropriate. It’s friendly. I’m hanging with my friend.
My gorgeous fucking friend.
* * * * * * * * * *
I try to focus my attention on the screen, where Alan just found a tiger in the bathroom. Vivian is laughing. We’ve been laughing together for a while, but now I’m no longer laughing. She just readjusted us, and all I can focus on is her body touching mine. She said she needed a new position to get comfortable, taking my arm and wrapping it around her shoulders so she could lay her head on the inside of my shoulder. Her knees are knocked together and leaning toward me.
Five minutes later, she shifts around. “Sorry, I can’t get comfortable,” she says, falling into the position of doom. Her body turns inward, tangling her legs with mine, and her arm now rests on my torso and chest. The problem with this position is that our hands do not stay idle; they start to wander… to explore… taking a little test drive on each other. She starts this time, the little game we seem to play more and more, where innocent touches become something more, testing the boundaries of our friendship.
She slowly starts drifting her fingers, softly at first, up and down my torso, tantalizing me as she splays her hand across my chest and caresses my pecks, like she’s trying to feel the muscles. Fucking tease. She knows exactly what she’s doing. Two can play this game.
She should know by now that when I play games, I like to win. And you better believe I plan to win this game. She will break first, giving in before I do. I don’t even bother with over-the-clothes tickles; I go straight for the jugular and slide my hand under her cropped, loose sweatshirt. Wondering if I’ll find a bra, I glide my fingers over her smooth stomach, feeling her inhale sharply, hoping to make her squirm a little, like I have been for the past three damn months. She matches my movements with equal intensity, proving she’s just as determined to win. Her hand glides under my shirt, brushing the outline of muscles on my abdomen, dipping her fingers ever so slightly into the waistband of my pants, provoking, taunting me. I let her.
I’m fully hard now, my cock tight against my boxers, but I will not back down, and I will not lose. Suddenly, I’m back in time, playing chicken with my junior-high crush—a game of daring where neither of us wants to be the first to back down. Except this time, I’m not sure what the rules are or what the end game is, and I don’t know if I care because I’m enjoying the game too much.
She shifts her body, scootching herself farther up mine and grinding her groin into me. My pulse quickens with the motion, and I slide my hand farther up her stomach, wondering if I’m really going to go in for the kill. Normally, I never wimp out or feel hesitant with women, but Vivian is different. For some reason, she makes me second-guess myself. I pull my hand to her side and up to the edge of her breast. She’s wearing a bra, but it’s smooth and feels practically naked. I trace the side of her boob, letting my fingers graze the top of her flesh. She takes a sharp breath and boldly moves to straddle me. She’s being reckless, putting herself in this position. Is this what she meant by game on ? Or is this her sultry side? Because if so, I am fucked.
My craving for her intensifies, like an alcoholic savoring a sip of whiskey. She slowly runs her fingers through my hair as she drops her forehead to mine and closes her eyes. She stills, breathing shallowly, and whispers, “Leo.” I can practically feel my cock pulsating in my head, a pounding that makes me feel drunk, drunk on her. My hands move to her delicious ass, and I stare at her beautiful mouth, begging me to taste it. She went ninety; I’m supposed to go ten. Isn’t that how this works?
I slide my hand to her thigh, guiding it up the curve of her body to her clavicle, grazing her neck as my thumb brushes her bottom lip. I caress her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear as she bites her bottom lip seductively. “Damn you, Walker,” I mutter, surrendering as months of pent-up desire surge through me, and I crush my lips to hers. I lose the game, but I feel like I’ve just won the goddamn lottery.
Her soft, supple lips against mine ignite every nerve in my body. I’m lost in the kiss, savoring every moment. My hands slide under her shirt, roaming the smooth skin of her back. I grip her hip and ass firmly, feeling the heat of her body against mine. My hands move up the curve of her body, exploring every inch. When my fingers brush the side of her bra, it takes all my willpower not to grab her tits, knowing that even this kiss is more than I should be doing—I’ve already crossed a line. We move in sync, as if we’ve done this a thousand times before, yet each kiss feels new and electrifying.
Her tongue dances with mine, exploring, teasing, as her nails gently rake through my hair. The world outside ceases to exist; it’s just the two of us, wrapped in this intoxicating embrace. Each kiss grows more fervent, more desperate, as if we’re trying to make up for lost time.
I trail kisses down her jawline to her neck, feeling her pulse under my lips. She lets out a soft moan, a sound that sends electricity down my spine and spurs me on. I return to her lips, capturing them again in a kiss that’s both tender and demanding.
We break apart only for a brief moment to catch our breath, our foreheads resting together, eyes locked. Her breath mingles with mine, and for a moment, we stay like that, foreheads touching, sharing the same air. The desire in her gaze mirrors my own, and it’s all I can do to keep from diving back in immediately. When our lips meet again, it’s with a renewed intensity.
Time seems to blur as we kiss, minutes feeling like seconds. Her lips, her touch—it’s all I can focus on, and I’m lost in it. It’s not just a kiss; it’s an unspoken confession of everything we’ve been holding back. But then, reality hits me like a freight train. Shit . This isn’t just some random hookup—this is Vivian, my friend. The one person I can’t afford to fuck up with. I’d never want to hurt her. She wants things like love and marriage—things I can’t give her. This is a goddamn mess waiting to happen. I know I need to stop, but my body is screaming to keep going.
Summoning all my willpower, I drag myself back—my breath ragged, heart hammering. “Vivian, fuck… I’m sorry, we shouldn’t be doing this,” I manage, barely holding onto my self-control. “I got carried away.”
I know I should have stopped sooner, but I couldn’t. I try to get a grip, my cock’s hard and my pulse is pounding. “Maybe we should talk about this,” I say, but it comes out more like a breathless mess than the calm and collected conversation I’m aiming for. I can barely think straight with everything that just happened. “Figure out what we both want, set some boundaries… before we fuck this up.”
She looks at me, a mix of surprise and disappointment in her eyes. Her expression stings—she didn’t want to stop either. I reach up and gently trace her jaw with my thumb, our foreheads still close. The tension in the air is thick between us—both of us harboring a load of shit we’re not saying.
“Fuck, as much as I want you, Vivian… you’re too important to me.”
She nods slowly. “You should probably go,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
“Yeah… you’re right.” I hesitate, hating how this feels.
“Yeah,” she manages, wiping at her cheek quickly. “Let’s not talk about this right now, okay? We’ll deal with it later.”
I nod and stand, feeling like a teenager caught doing something I shouldn’t. Everything feels off now, awkward as hell. We walk to the door, neither of us knowing what to say.
At the door, I turn to her. “You still want to drive with me tomorrow?”
She forces a smile and nods. “Yeah, I’ll meet you in the parking garage at noon.”
She hugs me quickly, a shadow of the warmth we usually share.
“Goodnight, Viv. ”
“Goodnight. See you tomorrow.”
I walk out, praying that we didn’t just fuck everything up.