9. Kendall
CHAPTER NINE
Kendall
THEN
“So, he did all of this while he was still alive?”
I nod against James’s chest, his arm lazily draped over my back drawing soft circles between my shoulder blades. “It’s kind of romantic, no?”
“And a little morbid,” he adds. He scratches his temple.
Almost as if he isn’t sure whether or not my movie choice is in fact a little romantic.
Our conversation is put on a brief pause as the screen fills with a tearful woman, her hands trembling as she reads a handwritten letter from her deceased husband.
It’s the third movie we’ve put on today, and it’s barely four o’clock.
Dinner is somewhere on the horizon, but with the continuous consumption of popcorn and candy and other snacks of the salty and sweet variety, I don’t know if an actual meal is in our plans.
But we have absolutely nothing—zero, zilch, nada—on our itinerary.
We’re lazing around our weekend with the sails of spontaneity to guide us.
And since Tommy is out with Sylvia, we have the whole place to ourselves, depressing romance movies and all.
With the last bits of summer coming to an end, this has become a common ritual for our days. I’m not complaining, not in the slightest. It’s a helluva lot better than stressing about the school year ahead. Which I will do eventually, just not this minute.
“I think it’s kind of sweet,” I argue. The woman, Holly, now clutches the letter against her chest, and I gesture a loose hand in her direction. “He knew his cancer was going to eventually end his life, and he wanted to make sure he was there to grieve alongside her.”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be better to just move on? He’s basically forcing her to hold on to him.”
“But…she would’ve held on anyway.” I look at James, and the confusion lining his face turns into a sweet smile when his eyes meet mine. “I think it’s nice. Like he’s right by her side to hold her hand and be there for her when she misses him.”
He bends down to kiss my forehead. “I’ll make sure to leave you a hundred letters when I go first.” His promise, though a little bleak, holds so much weight. So much possibility. “I’ll even send you on a wild goose chase. Really add to the ‘could he still be alive’ paranoia.”
I nudge him with my shoulder, tsking at him with a playful shove to his side. “Don’t make fun of my movie.”
“I’m not making fun of your movie,” he says.
“I think it’s really endearing that you enjoy watching movies about love and all the happy, sappy stuff.
” He loops his hand around my nape, running his thumb over my jaw.
He knows I love it when he does that. His way of leading what is about to be yet another breathless kiss.
When he does kiss me, it’s all lips and tongue.
I feel his chest guide me onto my back, and I’m placed in a position where he’s in control of everything.
The kiss, my hands, my body. He hovers over me, his hips pressing me further into the plush cushions, and my feet naturally find their way hooked around the back of his thighs.
“I was watching the movie,” I tell him between kisses, a protest I know is as measly as it is pointless even before I whisper it against his lips.
His hand slides under my sweater, tickling the sensitive spots hidden from the outside world.
I’m completely naked underneath. No bra or shirt, the only way to relax on a lazy weekend.
He takes the chance to explore. Test and tease.
“Yeah, but I kind of find you a little more interesting,” he confesses, his kisses wandering down my throat. “Is that okay?”
I gasp when I feel his cock grow hard against my hip. “I guess so.”
I tilt my head back, exposing more of my neck to him as his thumb rolls over my nipple. I hum, not caring even the slightest bit how easily I turn into putty in his hands.
“You know all those little noises you make when I touch you?”
I nod.
“How you whimper and moan,” he clarifies, “or how your breathing picks up.”
“You really pay close attention to how I sound when you fuck me.”
He growls like he’s provoked by my dirty talk.
“I wonder what kind of noises you’ll make if I do this.
” He fills his hand with my breast, giving it a firm squeeze.
“Or if I do this.” He pulls my earlobe into his mouth, grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin.
A twist and turn of some chimeric knobs on my body only he knows how to control.
“I personally think it makes you get louder.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing we’re alone.” His hands continue to work, and I predictably become louder.
I can’t believe this has been my life for the last month.
Spur-of-the-moment dates, languid weekends, hot make-out sessions on the couch.
I’ve tossed aside my no-dating blueprint, only to realize I was fooling myself into thinking I needed it in the first place.
It all turned out to be a baseless extenuation in an attempt to avoid getting my heart broken when there wasn’t even any premise for it.
This was the last thing I expected when I moved down here, and now, I don’t know how I can live without it.
Without James and his witty humor. And his obsession with me of all things.
How he manages to make me feel like the only person in the room while somehow keeping an always-ready boner at bay.
It’s almost too good to be true.
My hands wander under his shirt, lifting the hem up and over his back.
He takes the cue, reaching behind him to slip it off.
I bite my lip seeing his bare chest and stomach, all smooth skin and taut muscles.
I watch him as he multi-tasks. Kissing me while reaching into his pocket to whip out a condom.
Turning me on and thinking about protection at the same time.
Such a gentleman. He holds it up in the air between us.
“Do you just keep them in your pants now?”
“Absolutely,” he says with a smirk. As if there was any other option when it came to the contents of his pockets. Keys. Wallet. Condom.
“I don’t know whether to be mad that you think I’m so easy or proud that you’re always ready to go.”
“I’m too cute for you to be mad at.”
I laugh before fumbling with his belt and jeans.
He watches with an air of authority and a fervent gaze licking my skin with heat.
Like he’s depraved, making him famished and greedy.
And I’m just as eager. I’ve barely gotten them undone and past his butt when the locks click at the door.
It swings open just as James’s body freezes.
Sylvia and Tommy walk in only to be welcomed by a full moon.
“Shit!” James hisses.
“What the fuck,” I hear Tommy mutter. I look over James’s shoulder to see Tommy covering Sylvia’s eyes, and I muffle my giggles against James’s warm, bare skin.
“You’re right,” Sylvia says, not bothering to lower Tommy’s hand. “We should’ve stopped for dessert.”
James hops off of me, securing his pants around his waist. He reaches for his tossed-aside T-shirt as Tommy and Sylvia close the door behind them.
“You’re breaking the ‘no sex in the living room’ rule,” Tommy informs us in a stern, matter-of-fact tone.
“You guys have a ‘no sex in the living room’ rule?”
“Yeah,” Tommy tells me. “And anywhere communal. The kitchen, the bathroom.”
“The dining table,” James adds. He throws a harsh glare at Tommy, and I get the feeling Tommy might’ve broken said rule once or twice. I catch a glimpse of Sylvia turning red as she sets her things down.
“It was Halloween,” Tommy states defensively. “We were drunk, and Syl was wearing a slutty schoolgirl costume.”
“I’m not going to ask,” I say.
I sit up, smothering the embarrassment of being caught red-handed with minimal eye contact.
I’m toying with the edge of a throw pillow when I notice the condom packet James had already ripped open on the floor.
James bends down to reach for it and tucks it away in his pocket before anyone notices.
He winks at me, and it causes a light, bubbly giggle to wriggle from my chest.
“What’s so funny?” Sylvia asks as she settles in the armchair sitting perpendicular to the couch. Tommy perches himself on the arm and wraps his arm around her.
“Nothing,” I answer. I feel like we should go to James’s room, continue what we started, but then it’s too obvious. We might as well slap a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door with a disclaimer like “having sex now” in fine print too. Maybe a tie will be more subtle.
“It looks like you two are getting along pretty well,” Sylvia comments. She wags a finger in our direction, waving it side to side.
James is sitting next to me, and he places his hand on my thigh. As if he’s confirming the fact that he and I are getting along well. A little too well considering we haven’t established any titles or relationship guidelines. We don’t say anything but let the awkward silence hang above us.
“So, are you two like…a couple?”
I freeze. It’s like someone plopped a giant elephant in the corner of the room, and neither James nor I are allowed to bring it up.
At least I haven’t brought it up. Not when things seem to be going so well.
But we have to come back to earth at some point.
Like a balloon high on life, fizzled into a lifeless heap of rubber after Sylvia decided to burst its figurative bubble.
I may be guilty of a little avoidance technique, though I’m running out of ideas and excuses.
I don’t know how many more times I can use, “I really like spending time with you,” before I end up pushing James away altogether.
I look at James with my brow drawn tight. I feel like an apology is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t really know for what.
When I don’t answer, James shoots back with a chippy, “How about you mind your own business?”
“They’re definitely fucking,” Tommy answers, as if we aren’t in the same room.