I Hate to Stand Alone

by Casey Winter

  That’s the thing with us. We’re close, but there’s always this whole army of unsaid things ready to stampede into any interaction. And the fact that we’re basically behaving as boyfriend and girlfriend but haven’t even come close to admitting it yet, well, that’s the just cherry on the awkward sundae.

  Luke pulls up outside the apartment building, face unreadable. “Do you want to call her?” he asks. “I know you mentioned she gets startled by the apartment buzzer.”

  Something warm swims through my chest. It’s so nice, that he remembered that about my friend. “Yeah, I’ll do it now,” I tell him, taking out my phone. “Hey, hon,” I say, when Penny answers. “We’re outside.”

  “No,” Penny cries, laughing. “I’m having a fajita disaster, Banana. I’m not ready.”

  I grin. “Well, let us help, then.”

  “Um, yeah, okay. Get your asses up here, then.”

  She buzzes us in and we go up to her apartment. I see Luke glancing down the hallway. I know he’s thinking about what Jock said: how he lives in this apartment building. Luke’s anger about that fire hasn’t petered out even slightly. Even now that the limited damage has been repaired and extra security cameras installed—as well as a new alarm, since the suspect busted the last one—he’s still livid.

  “Come on.” I touch his arm. “It sounds like Penny is at DEFCON five up there.”

  He gives my side a squeeze in that tickling way he has. “DEFCON one is the serious one. DEFCON five is just business as usual.”

  “Sooooooooo sorry.” I laugh, kissing him.

  And then the kiss turns into him crushing me against the wall, my teeth on his bottom lip, biting hard, tasting him. He lifts me off my feet and the only thing that stops us is Penny emerging from her apartment. “Oops, sorry,” she says, withdrawing her head.

  “No, no.” I giggle. “This animal’s just about to put me down. Don’t worry.”

  “Am I?” Luke grins, still holding me.

  I run my hands through his hair, mussing it. But then I force myself to wriggle back. “Yes,” I say firmly. “He is.”

  Luke puts me down, whispering in my ear, “Later, Hannah.”

  I ignore—or try to ignore—the way his breath drifts warmly down my neck. Then we go inside to find that Penny wasn’t lying even in the slightest. The kitchen is a battlefield of peppers and onion and eye-reddening fajita powder, the bread wraps laid slapdash on the oven for preparation, the sink overflowing with dishes.

  Penny spins on us, red hair wild, dressed in her pajamas with the ironic catchphrase I Have Nothing Clever to Say on the front. She gawps at us in our fancy outfits. “Well, this is completely and unacceptably slovenly of me, right?”

  I giggle. “Let me guess, Lennie—”

  “Lennie?” Luke says, confused.

  “Oh,” I mutter, realizing I haven’t told him yet. “A childhood nickname, since Penny had an early growth spurt. From Of Mice and Men.”

  “It’s lucky I have thick skin,” Penny laughs. “I’ve been trying to change it to Beanpole for ages.”

  “You two are brutal,” Luke smiles, loving it.

  “It’s not that brutal,” I argue. “It’s mostly because Lennie is so kind-hearted, and so is Penny—”

  “And simple,” Penny says. “Don’t forget simple. But seriously, I love it. This one time, in English class, Hannah rode to my defense like a Joan of Arc figure. Every time she calls me Lennie, I just remember how lucky I am to have a sort-of-sister like her. Annnywaayyy, I didn’t mean to get all uber-serious then, guys!”

  We all laugh.

  “Don’t be silly,” I say. “But, Penny, let me guess … you were going to be amazingly prepared and have everything ready for when we got here, but you decided to just write a couple of hundred words, and you ended up writing two thousand instead, and here we are.”

  She pouts at me. “Maybe,” she mutters.

  “Alright, why don’t Hannah and I tackle this, eh?” Luke says helpfully. “You can go and get ready, Penny. How does that sound for everyone?”

  “Look at frogman, taking charge,” I tease.

  He shrugs. “Force of habit.”

  “It does sound like a plan, though,” Penny mutters. “It’s nice to meet you by the way, Luke. Officially, I mean.”

  “And you,” Luke says. “I guess we didn’t really have much of a chance to talk before, when you were filling me in about Miss Ortiz’s medical emergency.”

  They shake hands respectfully, and then both turn to me.

  “Sounds like a plan,” I agree.

  Penny disappears into her bedroom and Luke and I attack the kitchen. Luke rolls up his sleeves and starts on the dishes as I check that the chicken is cooked through and then finish chopping the vegetables. For a few minutes, it’s almost like a domestic scene, like the sort of casual and wonderful thing husbands and wives do.

  Okay, don’t get carried away. Jeez.

  “I never thought I’d see the day,” I say when we’re almost done. We’ve been working in silence, not needing to talk. “Luke Nelson with soap suds all over his arms.”

  “Hmm, yeah,” he says, turning to me, grinning wickedly.

  “Luke, don’t you dare—”

  Too late …

  He flicks the soap suds and they fly with unfair speed, splatting right on the front of my dress. “You’re in for it, now,” I cry, picking up a bread wrap and holding it like a Frisbee.

  “Do your worst, twinkle toes,” he growls. “I’m starving, anyway. I’ll just catch it with my teeth.”

  I laugh at the image. “Like a dog?”

  “Yeah,” he grins wolfishly, closing the distance between us so fast, it’s stunning. “I’m a dog, alright, Hannah. An animal just for you.”

  Our lust flames and we end up kissing like people possessed again. The only thing that interrupts us—again—is Penny. She clears her throat, her hand over her eyes as she turns her gaze away. “I’m not looking, I’m not looking.”

  She’s tied her hair up, using an actual scrunchy instead of a pencil since it’s a special occasion. In smart leggings and flats, with a nice glittery top, she looks gorgeous.

  It’s not often Penny gets dressed up.

  —

  “I think we’re about ready to eat,” Luke says. “Let’s lay the table …”

  I glance at the coffee table: at Penny’s laptop, and her three notepads, and the dozens of loose pieces of paper, covered in notes, scattered like autumn leaves. “We can eat on our laps?” I offer.

  “I don’t care where we eat,” Luke says. “I’m starving.”

  So Luke, Penny and I end up sitting in her living room—me and Luke on the couch, Penny in the chair—scoffing fajitas from the plates on our laps. The scene would’ve been weird enough since it’s Luke Nelson and Penny, my best friend and basically sister with the man I was supposed to hate. But, in our fancy outfits, it becomes even stranger.

  I adore it.

  We all get on well, too, which is great. Luke and Penny banter lightly, but it’s always respectful, never veering even remotely close to flirting territory. Luke only has eyes for me, anyway, looking me up and down every time he has a chance.

  “So he wants to write a novel?” Penny asks, when Luke mentions that his friend, Morgan, has talked about writing every so often.

  Luke finishes a giant mouthful of fajita, and then nods. “Yeah, I think so,” he says. “I don’t know. It always surprises me when he brings it up, just like his whittling does. He’s a contradiction, that man. He’s intelligent, don’t get me wrong. You don’t get to be in the Norwegian Special Forces without being smart—”

  “Or a SEAL,” I put in, touching his arm.

  He takes my hand, smiling. “Or a SEAL, sure. But writing? I guess it just surprises me.”

  “Maybe you should tell him to take Penny’s class one of these days.”

  “Are you trying to set me up, Banana?” Penny laughs. “Because that would really mess up my heartfelt
desire to die alone. Or maybe in a bed full of cats. I haven’t decided yet.”

  Luke laughs hard at that. When Penny and I look at him, he waves a gruff hand. “The idea of setting Morgan up is just too damn funny.”

  “Why, what’s wrong with him?” Penny asks.

  “Nothing, nothing at all. He’s one hell of an operator. He’s just an ice-cold bastard. My nickname in the teams was Iceman. His was Nitrogen, as in liquid nitrogen. I’m not joking.” Luke hastens to add, “But he really is a good man. I just found the thought funny, I guess.”

  “I’m sure he would’ve said the same about you, before you met Hannah, though, right?” Penny teases.

  She’s got him. I expect Luke to get evasive or make a joke. But, instead, he nods in agreement. “Yeah,” he says, squeezing my hand. “I think he would have.”

  Once the fajitas are done, we share a bottle of wine, though Luke only sips his since he’s driving us to Lorham later to spend the night at the suite. Somehow, Penny manages to turn—well, more like twist—the conversation toward marriage. “Your parents were happy, right, Luke?” she asks.

  He nods, a light lost-in-the-past smile touching his lips. “Yeah, they were. My old man might be a cantankerous old bastard now, but he’s been through a lot. Losing Mom. Losing … Noah.”

  He glances at me, wincing. His grip on my hand loosens slightly. Penny notices. I can tell it annoys her, especially because she knows about the abortion now. I give her a look, Please let it slide. She gives me one back, telling me she will. The whole thing is over in less than a second.

  “But he was a good husband,” Luke goes on. “Nobody can ever take that away from him.”

  “Oh, really?” Penny says. “And what makes good husband material?”

  I glare at her. She’s obviously hinting at something. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what. Husband material. The phrase bounces around my mind. Penny is saying Luke might be husband material for me one day.

  “Loyalty,” Luke says without hesitation. “Dad was always loyal. I think he’s still loyal now, even if she’s gone. Respect. Communication, I guess. Talking about stuff. Not letting it fester. Most of all, just—I don’t know—just accept them for who they are. Don’t try and bend them into something just because you want them to be a certain way. Hell, I’m not exactly a wordsmith, but you get the point.”

  “I do,” I whisper, touched.

  Don’t try and bend them into something they’re not.

  That was what Noah did. He had a life plan set up for us. When I veered from it, he forced me into the shape he needed me to be for his idealistic future. Luke would never do that. Luke is not Noah. Even if I’ve told Mom this very fact, the revelation hits me hard. I think I manage to drown my emotion with a mouthful of wine, though.

  “Not that I’d know much about what makes a happy marriage,” I mutter after a sip. “My dad checked out.”

  “That sometimes makes people bitter against the very idea of marriage, doesn’t it?” Penny says, eyes gleaming.

  I know exactly what she’s doing. She knows how I feel about this. She’s trying to get both Luke and I to demonstrate that we’d make good marriage material, which is crazy, which is ridiculous. But Penny loves having us in her web, like we’re two characters in one of her stories. Luke turns to me, expectant.

  “Maybe,” I say, shooting Penny an evil, sportive look. “But I’ve never thought of it like that. It’s like when you’re trying to learn a new skating trick. It’s true, the best way to learn something is to see how it’s done well and try to recreate that. But there’s another way, too. You see how it’s done incorrectly, all the million ways it can go wrong, and then make sure you avoid those pitfalls.

  “That’s how I think about Mom and Dad. They were never right for each other. They never communicated. They never had fun together. So they failed. So when I—if I—you know, ever make that step, I’ll try and avoid those mistakes.”

  I take a large swig of wine, Luke’s penetrating green eyes burning into me. I wonder if he’s thinking the same things I am, if his mind is full of unrealistic images of me in a wedding dress, Luke standing at the altar in a steel-colored suit barely clinging to his broad shoulders.

  I sip more wine, pushing those thoughts away.

  Silly, silly, silly.

  “So what makes a good wife, then?” Penny presses.

  I glare, deciding not to play her game anymore. “Oh, that’s easy,” I say.

  “Yeah?”

  “Two blowjobs a week.”

  Penny giggles, almost snorting wine.

  And Luke grins. “Amen. Can’t argue with that.”

  —

  “I think that went well,” I say as we drive through the forest toward Lorham.

  I’ve already called Alejandra to check that Mom’s okay. She’s already sleeping, curled up on the couch, and Alejandra’s keeping her knitting vigil. When Alejandra could tell I was feeling guilty for staying with Luke for the night, she snapped, “Girl, your mother’s doing just fine. You’ve been with her all week long, more or less. And—and this is deadly serious—if you don’t make use of that sexy SEAL’s body, I might have to.”

  Well, what could I say to that, really?

  Now, Luke says, “I think it went well, too.”

  “Do you like Penny?” I ask.

  “Yeah, she seems nice enough,” Luke says. He tickles my earlobe in that way I like, between his thumb and forefinger, just before changing gear. “She can’t hold a candle to you, though.”

  “But you definitely got on,” I persist. “It wasn’t awkward at all, was it?”

  “No,” Luke smiles. “Not even slightly. She did seem a bit … ah … manic, though?”

  “Yeah, that’s just Penny,” I say. “Her head’s always in a million places at once. I think it’s so she never has to settle on one thing.”

  Luke grips the steering wheel hard, just for a second. “I think you’re right there, Hannah,” he says. I know he’s talking about himself, not Penny.

  We drive the rest of the way mostly in silence. It’d oddly peaceful, how Luke and I don’t have to fill every single moment with words. The sun has almost set, making the world glow a gorgeous peach-red, and the shadows of the evergreens are all hazy and jagged on the road.

  Soon, we’re in our suite. I shed my heels in the doorway, going into the living room.

  “You know, Luke,” I say innocently, dropping seductively onto the couch. I put my legs in the air, folding them at the ankles, thrilling when his gaze drifts up and down me like it has all night. But there’s a new hunger in him now, since we’re alone, and he knows he doesn’t have to hold himself back anymore. “I think I had a point about what makes a good wife. Blowjobs are the key to a man’s heart, right?”

  “They’re the key to something,” he growls, dropping onto the couch. “But now it’s my turn.”

  “Your turn—Ah.”

  Luke pounces on me, all animal. Gripping my thighs, he pulls me across the couch, sliding to the floor at the same time. By the time I’ve gotten my bearings, he’s already biting and kissing up the inside of my thighs.

  “Oh, heck , Luke,” I gasp. I slide my hand through his hair. “You don’t have—”

  “I know I don’t have to,” he moans. “I need to. I need to taste you, Hannah. I need to feel how wet you are. I need to feel you come. For you to get soaking wet. Ready for my cock.”

  I’m not going to argue with that.

  He yanks my underwear down around my heels, tossing them across the room. Then he just stares down at me for a few moments, breathing heavily, his whole body trembling with his desire. With a flash of movement, he’s on me again, hiking my dress up around my hips and kissing with warm contact until he reaches my sex. He caresses my clit with a finger, biting and kissing and breathing hotly onto my thighs.

  Then, when I think I can’t take it anymore, he attacks my clit with his tongue. Sliding his fingers into my soaked pussy, he circles my
clit, strokes it, flicks it, does everything he can with his scalding purposeful tongue.

  I feel enslaved to the pleasure he’s giving me, utterly lost to it.

  I throw myself into it willingly.

  I want to be lost to Luke Nelson.

  He slides another finger inside of me, soaking me more, crushing wetness making everything feel intense and close.

  “Oh, God,” I whisper, voice choked. “L-Luke, right there. Right where you just were … Ahhhh.”

  With furious movements, he drags me toward him and opens his mouth wide, taking all of me, his tongue moving so fast I can’t feel any single movement now. It’s just the frantic sensation, the building-up, as though any second I could explode.

  And then I do.

  I explode

  My entire being gets super-tense and my moans turn hollow, too full of pleasure to make noise. I gasp and choke for air. I stay in that perfect place for a second or a minute, I can’t tell.

  Suddenly, it releases.

  My whole body twitches and judders as the orgasm grips me. I grind against his lips, his teeth grazing me very lightly with the added pressure, which only adds to the euphoria.

  I feel savage, unleashed, free.

  Luke fingers the last of the orgasm out of me, finding the deep, pleasurable spot in my pussy, caressing at the same time as his tongue.

  “Wow,” I mutter, lying back. “That was …”

  “Sudden?” Luke asks, leaning up.

  His lips are wet with my release. Maybe in other circumstances, I’d find that icky. But right now, both of us hornier than we’ve ever been, it’s intimate and just makes me hornier.

  I don’t fight him when he kisses me. I can taste myself on his lips. Because I can tell how much Luke loves it: the idea of kissing me right after. I can read his passion in how tight his body gets, his chest a sheet of solid brick against me, his cock straining in the thin fabric of his trousers.

  “I need to see your pert tits,” he groans. “I need to see them bouncing as I screw you.”

  “Then take charge, frogman,” I tease.

  He grins brutally at the permission, and then props himself up with one arm as he tugs my dress down with the other. He pulls my bra down, too, wedging it all under my breasts, pushing them up. “Squeeze them,” he commands. “Push them together. Pull on your nipples.”