24. Gianna
When Henry offeredto let me do my laundry at his place, I almost cried. I need my favorite pajamas clean, and it’s a miracle that I made it close to four weeks with what I packed.
Even so, I feel kind of weird about it. I chose to come in the afternoon to minimize any interaction. Although, I’ve been seeing him more days than not lately. When I texted to let him know I was planning to stop by, he said he had a pretty busy afternoon, so he’d be out but to use whatever I need.
It’s been nice to have someone other than Cam to talk to while I’m here in Ever Lake, and I can almost convince myself that we’re just friends.
That when he brushes a crumb from my lip, my body doesn’t light up in flames. Or when he hugs me, I don’t want to hold on to him for longer than strictly appropriate.
Almost.
After I grab the large laundry bag from the passenger seat of my car, I make my way up to the house. I find the spare key easily and unlock the door without any trouble.
“Hey there, Gianna.” Betty pokes her head out of her door.
“Oh, hi, Betty.” I pull the door closed and turn toward her.
“What’re you up to?”
“I was just going to do some laundry. Henry said it would be okay to use his washer and dryer,” I explain quickly, not wanting her thinking I’m doing anything nefarious.
A smile tilts her lips. “Of course he did. Any interest in some tea and a cookie or two beforehand?”
Thinking about my plans for the rest of the day, I figure why not? If the tea and cookies she’s got on hand today are anywhere near as good as the first time I visited, I can’t pass them up.
“Yeah, sure, let me just throw my laundry in the washer and I’ll be right over.”
“Sounds good, hon.”
Doing just that, I hurry back downstairs, lock up, replace the hidden key, and head over to Betty and Hank’s home. Walking in, the smell of freshly baked cookies fills my nose. It’s subtle, crisp with vanilla notes.
Betty is already seated in her large La-Z-Boy pouring tea into two cups. A plate of cookies sits at the center of the coffee table.
“Come on over. You can leave your laundry by the door.” She waves me over with a smile. Her smile transforms her face. The first time we met at The Well, I didn’t see her smile once. She was no nonsense the entire time. When she does smile, it softens the severity of her angular face, her pronounced cheekbones and arched eyebrows.
Once I’m seated, I take the cup she puts in front of me and inhale before blowing on the tea inside to cool it. There’s a subtle scent that I can’t quite place, but when I take a small sip, a burst of lemon hits my tongue.
“This is really good,” I comment, placing the tea back on the coffee table to cool a bit more.
“Try a cookie.” Betty nods toward the plate in front of me.
I grab one, still not sure what kind it is. It looks like a classic shortbread, but when I take a small bite, more lemon flavor explodes in my mouth. Eyes wide, I finish the cookie and turn a smile on Betty.
“Those are incredible, lemon?”
“Lemongrass tea and lemon-glazed shortbread. My favorite combo. Hank thinks it’s too much lemon, but I don’t think that’s a real thing.”
We both laugh and fall into an easy conversation. Betty tells me all about growing up in Ever Lake, what it’s like to run the Well, and how long she and Hank have been together.
“Is he local too?” I ask, dipping a cookie into my tea to soften it a bit.
“Oh, no. We met out east in college,” she answers, a private smile on her lips as she thinks about it.
“Really? And he moved out here?” The question is an appropriate follow-up, but it also feels important to know if he uprooted his whole life to come be with Betty.
“He did. Absolutely.” She looks incredibly satisfied and sure. “Not only that, but we only met our senior year of college, second semester. We hadn’t known each other for more than three months before he decided to completely throw caution to the wind and follow me home.” Pinning me with an intense stare, she takes a sip of her own tea.
“Seriously?” Just the idea of it has my stomach twisting. “Did you ask him to?”
“No. I mean, I let him know how I felt, sure. But I wouldn’t have asked him to leave everything he knew to be with me. That was all him taking a leap of faith. And here we are today.” She glances around her home, love and adoration clear on her face.
“Wow, that—” I blow out a breath, pasting a smile on my face. I can’t help but think about me and Henry. Is that something I could do? Leave everything I know, my family, and my home? A beat goes by, and I decide now isn’t the time to be making those kinds of decisions. “That’s really beautiful.”
Peering over at me with a knowing look in her eyes, Betty just nods and steers the conversation elsewhere. After a while, I glance up at the clock on the wall and realize how long we’ve been chatting.
“Oh, wow. Time flies when you’re having fun. I should really get to my laundry.” I don’t want to run into Henry, especially with so much to think about.
“No worries, thanks for keeping an old lady company.” Betty stands when I do, pulling me into a hug.
“Thank you for the tea and cookies, it was a great way to spend an afternoon.”
“Don’t be a stranger.” She waves before shutting the door, leaving me on the porch.
I make quick work of finding the key and unlocking the door again. Swinging the door open, I make my way up the stairs.
When I get to the landing, I only hesitate for a moment before turning the knob on the door. There’s a moment when I step into the quiet apartment that I reconsider what I’m doing.
The rational part of my brain understands that I need clothes, while the irrational part thinks that if I spend too much time in his space, I’m going to do something stupid like fall in love with him.
Just thinking the word “love” has my heart pressing against the walls of my chest.
Not an option, Gia, especially while you continue to lie to him.
Thankfully, at least that will end soon. Next week, we start implementing some changes at the lodge that will be significant enough that Marc and Gina will have to inform their kids about it.
At least the ones who work with them. Hopefully, all of them.
As I step further into the apartment, I hear something coming from the long hallway to the right. After another cursory glance at the apartment, something possesses me to make my way toward the hallway.
It’s probably where I’ll find the washer and dryer. I hear another muffled sound, and I wonder if he has a cat or something that he hasn’t told me about.
As I get closer, I can see the door that must lead to his bedroom is slightly ajar. The door across the hall is splayed open, steam filtering out.
And the sound that I heard a second ago comes through clear as day from the bedroom.
Moans. This man is moaning.
And then—
“Oh, fuck. Gia.”
My pulse kicks into high gear when I hear him say my name.
Pleasure rushes through me and settles between my legs. I tiptoe across the hardwood, inching closer, possessed by something that can only be pure lust.
With every step, I know that what I’m doing is wrong, but I can’t stop.
Or you won’t?
The thought doesn’t stop me from stopping right outside his door. Peering through the cracked door, I have a perfect view of Henry’s bed.
I see a few things all at once.
The white towel pooled on the floor right next to the bed. Henry on his back, naked. His head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut.
And he’s…oh, God. He’s got one hand wrapped around his cock.
Goosebumps rise up on my skin. I know I shouldn’t be looking. Obviously. It’s a blatant invasion of privacy. It’s—it’s so wrong.
But he said my name.
Do people usually masturbate and say their friends” names? I’d be lying if I didn’t think about him when I do…
But we’re just friends.
And what he’s doing right now doesn’t sound friendly.
Or look it. Jesus Christ.
He lets out another moan, his mouth dropping open, and I can only pray his eyes stay shut because my feet are glued to the spot.
I should probably feel weird about this. At least violated in some way, right?
If you’re violated, he’s definitely violated. He didn’t invite you over for a show.
I really am going to hell. And not only because I’m standing here, watching this happen.
I’m going to hell because I like it.
His movements start to get frantic, and my entire body lights up. Need coils tight low in my stomach. I expect him to grip the sheet next to him with his free hand, but instead it goes straight to his hair, and he pulls.
The move is so hot, so unexpected, that a breathy moan escapes me before I even know what’s happening.
Everything that happens next happens so quickly I can hardly breathe.
I slap my hand over my mouth but still can’t seem to move my feet. Henry’s hand stops moving, and his eyes fly open and collide with mine.
That’s when my body finally cooperates. I spin in place and scurry away like a little field mouse caught in the sights of a predator.
I hear him scrambling in his room, and I make it to the front door, then freeze.
Do I leave? Just run away and hope that maybe he didn’t see me? Should I stay?
And what? Try to justify effectively breaking into his home and watching him jack off? That’ll go well.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Making my decision, I pull the door open and leave.
Back in my room at the bed and breakfast, I hop in the shower and turn it on as hot as I can handle it. With steam pluming all around me, I close my eyes and stand under the steady stream of water.
I don’t know if this will wash away what I just witnessed or what, but I need the shower.
Flashes of what I just witnessed play on the back of my eyelids, and my eyes fly open. What I did at Henry’s apartment is so wrong.
So fucking wrong that my nipples pebble and I my press thighs together. So wrong that my hand snakes its way down my body, and my fingers slide against my clit.
I move my fingers lightly against myself, moaning into the rush of the water around me. Closing my eyes against the languid pleasure spreading through me, I can’t stop thinking about Henry. It doesn’t take long before I’m hurtling toward an orgasm, and all I can think is that I wish Henry was here giving it to me himself.
Nope. Not doing this.
Ripping my hand away, I clench both hands in fists at my side. Teetering on the edge of an orgasm, I stop everything and move through my usual shower routine quickly. I get out of the shower as fast as possible, and once I’m dried off, I focus on the task of blow-drying my hair. With the noise right in my ear, I don’t have to think too hard about anything.
By the time my hair is smoothed out and dry, I conclude that the rest of my day will be dedicated to work.
Numbers don’t confuse me. Numbers definitely don’t moan my name.
I can trust myself when I’m dealing with numbers.
Grabbing my laptop, I bring it over to my bed and get settled under the covers. I prop my laptop onto a pillow and pull up a few documents I need to comb through. Before I can even think about zoning out, I hear my phone ping. I plan to ignore it and check it later, but then it goes off again.
Grumbling to myself, I lean over and snatch it up from the bedside table. When I see Henry’s name, my whole body tenses. He’s texted no less than five times.
Henry: Are you okay?
Henry: Were you just in my apartment?
Henry: Well, I certainly hope it was you and not Betty or Hank.
Henry: I promise I’m not mad or anything, but could you let me know? Because now I’m worried Betty saw all that…
Henry: Are you @ the BB?
I start to type out a response, then delete it, then try again. Just as I come up with something that might not be completely embarrassing, I hear a knock at my door. Panic rips through me, and I throw my phone onto my bed like it’s burned my hand.
If that’s who I think it is at the door, there’s no way I can face him. Not right now. Not when it’s abundantly clear, he’s not going to just forget what happened.
Another knock sounds through the room, this time paired with a voice.
“Hey, Gia? You in there?” Henry’s muffled voice filters into the room.
I can’t reply. Even if I wanted to, my vocal cords seize up, and I slam my eyes shut. Embarrassment and a healthy dose of shame floods my body.
“Listen, if you are, I really do need to know if that was you or Betty.” He tries to joke, but I don’t laugh.
“If you’re not there, I guess I’m speaking into the void. But if you are, uh, I’m really sorry about that. That was completely out of line.”
Confused as to why he would be apologizing, I move as if on autopilot. I don’t open the door, but I do cross the room to lean my forehead against it and finally respond.
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Oh, you’re there. Hey, Gia.” He sounds relieved, if not happy, to hear my voice.
“I’m here. Why are you apologizing?”
“Do you mind if we chat without the door between us?”
I want to say no. I want to tell him that the door is keeping me from dying of embarrassment. But he sounds so sincere that I flip the deadbolt and crack the door open.
He’s fully dressed now, thankfully. His curls are still slightly damp and fall haphazardly all over his head, and he’s got a shy little grin on his face.
“Hi.”
“Hey, can I come in?” He tips his head to one side, and a single curl flops across his forehead.
It’s so cute, it makes me want to scream. How? How did I think I could just be friends with this guy?
Nodding, I widen the door and step aside to let him pass. Once he’s in my space, it feels easier to breathe. Just his proximity lessens my worry in a way, and that’s not something I want to dig into at the moment.
Luckily, we have other things to discuss.
Creating some space between us, I walk over to the small seating area and drop down into a chair. Henry follows me, taking the chair across from mine. Pulling my knees up, I curl my arms around my legs and look at Henry over my knees.
For a moment, neither of us says anything, then we both start talking at once.
“I’m so sorry—” I start to apologize.
“Let me apologize—”
Stilted, nervous laughter tumbles out of both of us. I try to control my breathing, silently praying that my face isn’t flushed and he can’t somehow see what I was just doing in the shower. Shame and embarrassment shoot through my veins again, and I start flicking the ring on my thumb like my life depends on it.
“Listen,” he starts and then furrows his brow. “Hey, are you okay?” Leaning forward, his eyes roam my face, only making it burn hotter.
“Fine. I’m fine.” My heart rate ticks up again, and I feel slightly untethered.
“Are you sure? You look a little…” His eyes narrow slightly, and he cocks his head to the side.
Every place his eyes touch feels tight and hot and, oh wow, I needed to come so badly. I should have just let myself in the shower. Now we’re here in this situation and he’s looking at me like…like he knows.
“Hmm?” I can barely squeak out a fully formed word, and he notices. His eyes flare with awareness as he leans forward.
“Were you—” His voice drops low, and his eyes smolder. “Gianna, what were you doing before I got here?”
I open my mouth to respond, but there’s not one thing running through my mind that I can cling on to and turn into a believable lie. My brain is still all horned up, and I’m trying to reconcile the fact that Henry’s in my room right now. With my bed literally a stone’s throw away.
A bed that’s probably still warm from my body.
“Nothing,” I manage to force out with a tight smile. “I took a shower.”
“Gia…”
I purse my lips but don’t say anything else. I don’t want to lie—frankly, I’m doing enough of that as it is—but I’m also not about to tell him the truth.
Yeah, I was just trying to distract myself after masturbating in the shower. No, I didn’t let myself come. No, nothing to do with me seeing you jerking off and moaning my name. Nope. Not at all. That would be creepy. And inappropriate. We’re just friends.
“Gia, were you touching yourself before I got here?”
Lava floods my limbs, and I’m suddenly surrounded by an almost oppressive heat. I squeeze my legs closer to me, trying to shrink away from the heat of his stare, but he doesn’t let me go easily. So I jerk my head once, quickly, nodding yes.
He leans back in the chair, visibly adjusting himself in his jeans. His eyes widen ever so slightly, and his jaw ticks as he clenches it before he responds.
“Did you come?”
The air stutters in my lungs, and my pussy throbs. I consider my response for a millisecond before the answer flies out of my mouth. What am I going to do? Lie?
After spending these last few weeks with him, lying by omission, I don’t want to. Nothing about this situation or the way I feel about him makes me want to say anything but the truth. And not just this truth…I realize now that I need him to know everything. Maybe not tonight, tonight maybe we can just focus on orgasms, but soon.
As I make the decision, weight lifts from my shoulders, and I finally answer him.
“No.”