8. tallulah
TALLULAH
SOCIETAL, YOU KNOW, CONDITIONING
I vaguely remembered how to clean a white shirt. Or, at least, I knew it involved soaking in cold water. My Grandma Wilma’s favorite summertime activity was canning fruits and vegetables, and that always included my shirts getting stained.
I flipped on the light for the bedroom, making my way to the private bathroom.
“Tallulah, I didn’t mean it like that,” Nick said, closing the door behind him.
“I need your shirt—”
“When I said freak, I meant like a sex freak, I didn’t mean—” We lapsed into silence, only interrupted by the running water. “It’s not a bad thing.”
“Forget it,” I mumbled.
I turned to take his shirt, somehow not connecting what taking Nick’s shirt meant. He tossed his jacket away and looped his fingers on the underside of his shirt, lifting it over his head. It rose like a curtain.
My eyes dropped to his hips, his tan skin warm in the bathroom light. The wisps of dark hair that formed his happy trail, the v-shaped defined lines that showed off his cut body, his hard abdominal muscles…
I fumbled with my words. “You—you have a six-pack?”
Nick balled-up the shirt, his lips curving for a grin. “It’s genetics. I don’t do much for it. Just happens.”
I had to force myself to avert my eyes because who just ‘naturally’ had a sculpted body like that and was funny and charismatic? Nick Kurosawa, that’s who. The man who was standing dangerously close to me.
I tried to focus, dousing his shirt in the cold sink water.
While that was soaking, I left to search for another shirt.
I had to figure out if his ruined one required white vinegar or dish soap to get out the stains—I wasn’t sure, the memories were foggy—but it was hard to think about anything with his naked chest within touching-distance.
Flustered, I set my purse on the dresser, rifling through the drawers.
Nick rested his arm on the dresser. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I ruined your shirt,” I whispered. “Ask away.”
“I don’t understand—why are only two items crossed off of the bucket list?”
“Um…I haven’t done the rest yet.”
“You were with Fridge for six months?”
“Yes?”
“Are you serious?”
My neck burned. It wasn’t just the embarrassment of Nick knowing. There were only two items crossed off my bucket list. The one I’d decided would never truly be crossed off, and the other, well…
I bit my lip. “For drunk sex, we had the stoplight system and our safe word. I only had two drinks, Fridge had maybe one? I don’t think he finished it.
But he said he—um—wasn’t comfortable with it.
Which is fine. It’s okay.” I lifted a shoulder.
“The rest of the bucket list, we were going to…eventually…”
Did I really believe that?
The truth was I was pretty sure I had a higher libido than Fridge.
The summer we met, it was closer to what I’d envisioned having a boyfriend was like. Constant, great sex. Yet when the school year began… Fridge was tired after hockey practice. He wanted to spend time doing homework, visiting friends and family, hanging out with his team.
Months passed and I realized my bucket list had been quietly shelved away.
Nick leaned closer. “Fridge is the best goalie I know, one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and he’s a fucking idiot.”
I paused, taken aback. “What?”
“You have a list of sex stuff and he said no?”
“I didn’t want to pressure him,” I mumbled. “I’d never want to pressure anybody. I know it’s a lot—”
“It’s not. Bondage sex? Seriously? He said no to that?”
I fidgeted. “He said it’s…degrading to women. And it’s probably societal, you know, conditioning that I’d want that kind of thing anyway—”
“Fridge can be—” Nick frowned, searching for the words. “Fridge can be condescending as fuck. The stuff on your list takes trust. To have someone you’re in a relationship with, belittle you over it is shitty.”
I’d never told anyone about this. Not the girls at college, not my family, and I’d certainly stopped talking to Fridge about it. I’d kept everything bottled up inside. Discussing my bucket list with Nick felt weirdly nice.
“Before I leave Toronto I—I want—” I couldn’t say it out loud, this desire to let myself go for once. “It was already embarrassing talking to my ex-boyfriend about the bucket list. I don’t know how I can broach it with anyone else.”
“The stuff you’re asking for can be done, Tallulah.” Slowly, Nick shifted closer. “You’ve just been asking the wrong person.”
“The—the wrong person?”
“Yeah. You should’ve asked me.”
My eyes widened, waiting for this to be one of Nick’s infamous jokes.
It wasn’t. He was all too serious. Serious about…wanting to do my bucket list with me? Nick Kurosawa? The man who could’ve had anyone at the party?
I hadn’t misinterpreted the tension between us on the airplane, Nick was attracted to me too.
My breath caught in my throat. “You?”
“I’ve done everything on your list. None of it’s a problem,” he promised, his words husky and delicious. His eyes flashed with heat, dropping to my lips. “What do you want to check off? We can do everything you want.”
“Everything?”
“Anything you want.”
The possibilities left me dizzy. His promise had me squeezing my thighs together. It was hard to believe, I had to hear it from him.
The question slipped out. “Do—do you want to kiss me?”
“Yes,” he rasped.
He was closer, I could feel the heat from his body. Nick’s cologne smelled so good, he smelled so good. Slowly, he wrapped his hand over mine, guiding me to place the flat of my palm against his chest. He was solid. Muscular. Warm under my hand, his heartbeat thumping away like mine.
“Oh,” I squeaked.
Nick dipped down, tilting the perfect angle, hovering above me. Anticipation pulsed through my veins, rushing faster with each tantalizing second. Gently, he pressed his lips to mine.
I was frozen beneath him, butterflies erupting inside. Mere seconds were charged with so much electricity. More than I’d ever experienced before.
Nick pulled away too quickly. He was half an inch away, gazing down at me.
His voice was rough, needy. “You have to kiss me too, Tallulah.”
I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Anxiety rose to the surface. Was Nick doing this just to piss off Fridge? Was this a secret we’d share? Was I supposed to keep quiet about this? What were the potential consequences?
“Fuck it,” rushed out of me and I leaned up on my toes, capturing his lips for another kiss.
I fucking kissed him.
Nick knotted his fingers through my hair, squeezing his hand into a fist to tilt my head up so he could kiss me deeper.
The kisses were longer, breathless, toe-curling.
I couldn’t stop touching him. His chest, his neck, his muscles, fuck, his muscles, flexing and twitching under my touch, like he was just as affected by me as I was by him.
Nick’s tongue stroked mine and I couldn’t be sure who was gasping. Me? Him? Both of us?
The kisses spun me around like a carnival ride. One of those zero-gravity rides where you can’t do anything but press against the wall, the world thrown off its axis.
“Fuck.” Nick groaned from deep in his throat. His kisses were relentless. He ushered me away from the bathroom, making me stumble on my heels.
The backs of my knees hit the bed and my back thumped down to the comforter, my body alight with sensation as our kisses deepened. Nick hovered above me. There was so much tongue, and he tasted so good. I clung to him, bringing him down to me. He wasn’t laying on me, but I wanted him to.
I wanted him to go further. Kiss me harder.
I slipped in my tongue, licking his bottom lip to show where we needed to go.
“Tallulah,” he hissed through clenched teeth. My name was a curse and a need between his lips. My dress was bunched up at my hips. He situated himself between my thighs, exactly where I wanted him. My legs wrapped around his waist, his hips were at mine, pressing his—
I stiffened in shock.
Was that his dick?
I could feel it through his dress pants, a steel rod grinding against me. Oh my god. My body worked on autopilot, rubbing against him too, my thighs parting to encourage him. His thrusts were instinctual, short and shallow like he didn’t want to move too far away from me.
I’d never wanted anything more than dry-humping this man at a party.
But this wasn’t some man at all.
This was Fridge’s best friend.
Common sense whacked me on the back of the head. What am I doing?!
“No, no, no—” My hands went to his chest. “I can’t do this.”
The bedroom was dark, only illuminated by the bathroom’s light. I could see Nick’s face, torn from being interrupted. “Tallulah—”
“I—I can’t do this—”
Breathing hard, Nick moved away and I took my escape, scrambling off of the bed. My panties were literally soaked. I had to leave, I had to go, fuck, I had to find my purse.
“I’m sorry,” he panted, pleading. “I can hide the boner, we can just make out—we don’t have to—Tallulah, I’m sorry—”
“No, it’s not—” I couldn’t help but sneak a look at his cock straining against the fabric. A sick thrill shot through me. He was that hard from making out?
Oh my god, what was wrong with me?
“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” I said, my voice unsteady. “You’re Fridge’s best friend. I—I can’t hurt him like this, I’m not that kind of person—I’m sorry.”
Nick went to the bathroom, and I searched for my purse, finally finding it on top of the dresser. I stumbled for the door.
“Tallulah?”
Nick’s single word stopped me, my name a rasp on his lips. He was standing at the bathroom counter, his back to me, his hands on the bathroom counter. His shoulders were tense, the muscles defined in the light.
“Yes?” I managed, heart hammering.
“Fridge said you two are getting back together.”
My hand hovered over the door handle. “What? He said that?”
“Is it true?”
Even if Nick couldn’t see me, I shook my head. “No. It’s not. We’re not.”
The tightness in his shoulders disappeared. They rose and fell with his deep, shaky breaths, like he could finally breathe again. His voice sounded so different when he spoke again. It was quieter, softer. Relieved. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry, Nick,” I whispered.
Did Nick care about my apology? Had he been just looking for someone to use the bedroom with and I was conveniently there? I didn’t know. But I’d never, ever want to hurt anyone and sleeping with Nick had consequences I didn’t want to face.
I apologized again. “I’m really sorry.”