As I continued to thrust, Sam's own body mimicked mine, and within a matter of minutes, we both collapsed onto the tile floor, gasping for breath, and flushed in the face.
As I held her, embracing the heat of her skin against my own, I realized that no one in the world had made me feel the way she did.
Sam
“Por que tan hapoy?”
I turned around, seeing Kit come up behind me, eyebrows raised. Heat flooded my face, but I didn't slow my pace.
“What?” I said, but I suspected that I knew what Kit was referring to.
“Why are you so happy?” Kit asked, stepping into pace next to me. “You haven't stopped smiling since you got here this morning.”
“I'm just in a good mood, that's all,” I said. I came to a halt near the staff lounge, turning to face Kit.
“I don't think so, bastante,” Kit said, wagging my finger in my face. “Something else is going on; I can see it in your face.” I paused, my eyes going wide. “Did you get laid?”
“Jesus, Kit!” I cried. I looked around, hoping no one was listening to our conversation. “Can't I be happy without being laid?”
“Is that what happened?” Kit asked. “Are you happy because you weren’t laid?”
I sighed, defeated, and cleared my throat.
“Fine,” I said. It was no use trying to hide things from Kit, and I knew it. Besides, telling someone might do me good. I hadn't talked to Tasha in days. “I got laid.”
“Estoy tan orgullosa de ti!” Kit shrieked. “So proud, I—who? Who pleasured you?”
“I'm not sure you want the answer to that question,” I said. I smiled at a passing physician and then looked back at Kit.
“It was Nicholas!” Kit cried. “Am I right?”
“Shhhhh!”
“I am so right!” Kit slapped her hands together in excitement, her chocolate brown eyes going wide with glee. “It was good, wasn't it? No, it was better than good. I can tell.”
“All right, all right.” I hushed her, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “It was good,” I said to Kit. “Okay, it was incredible.” I caught my breath, feeling the flush rise to my cheeks. Every time I jumped into bed with Nick, somehow it was just a little bit better than before.
“Well, lucky you, niña,” Kit said. “Good job getting some!”
Still flushing, I grabbed my paperwork from the files and walked, thinking of Nick. What a strange and phenomenal relationship we had going on here—the sex was the best I'd ever had; I couldn't deny that. Even with Richard, who had the package to go with that tall, burly frame, he could not please me sexually. But Nick…well, I reacted to Nick in so many more ways than just one. The way he touched me, the feel of his skin on mine, the way his muscles rippled and flexed against me. Just thinking about it made the heat rise on my face. And—ahem—other places.
“Dang, girl!” Kit cried. “You look like you're about to take the walk of shame.”
“What can I say?” I asked with a smile. “He brings it out in me.”
Nick
I had been trying to think all day of what I would say to her, but so far, I'd had no luck. Quitting my job felt like the right idea but now, walking through the front door holding my breath, I wasn't so sure anymore. By the time I finally got back to my apartment after the intense lunch I'd had with Paul, Sam was already home. Piper, I was relieved to see, was still in school.
“Hi, Nick,” Sam said. She was lounging on the couch, still dressed in her work clothes, but she had replaced her sneakers with slippers. Her mop of curly red hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and she was sipping a glass of juice. Just seeing her there made me stop at the door. I could only stare at her while I took in her beauty and grace. An image of us flashed into my mind—she and I, naked and in bed, our bodies pressed together, and her skin flushed and dewy. Had I not had to share the news of my job with her, I would have slipped off her pants and jumped her.
“I quit my job,” I said. That was the best way to do it—like ripping off a Band-Aid. I stood by the door, staring at her, trying to read her face for some reaction. She was quiet, looking at me, but for a long moment, she didn't speak.
“Why?” she asked finally. “Why did you quit and not even tell me?”
“I don't know,” I said. I looked away from her and shrugged, feeling a flush rise under my jacket. I didn't know why I felt so ashamed—I was an adult. I could quit if I wanted to. “Mostly because my agent gave me an ultimatum for the second time this week: career or family.”
“And you chose family,” she murmured. I shrugged again, unsure if she would nod and accept it or get up and hurl things at me.
“I'm sorry, Sam,” I said. “I know it wasn't responsible of me. But I couldn't do it. I was tired of hearing Paul speak of you and Piper like you were nothing but big inconveniences in my life.” I slipped off my jacket then kicked off my shoes and joined her on the couch. She was still looking at me, listening, but she didn't seem angry. For that, I was relieved.
“It sucks,” she said finally. “But I understand, Nick.” She sipped at her glass of juice and forced a smile. “Emily's life insurance will be enough with my income to support us all for now.”
I looked over at her, unable to tear my gaze away from her smooth, relaxed face. I wanted so badly to touch her, to feel the electric shock that came while only touching her.
“I'll find something else,” I said. “I'm glad you're understanding of this.” It made me happy to know that she wasn't angry with me. I had come to find out recently that Sam's moods always affected my own. If she was angry, I felt it to the core of my center—if she was at peace, so was I. Her effect on me was both surreal and overwhelming. What a feeling, I thought, to be so controlled by someone else's moods. And the weirdest part was—I didn't even mind it.
For a few moments, there was silence between us, but it was not a tense silence. It was comfortable and soothing, silence that felt so good it could put you to sleep for hours. But even though the silence was not awkward, the questions burrowed deep down in my mind were gnawing at me a little more every day. What was this? Just sex? Did I care about Sam? Sure, I did. I cared for her—but did she care for me? We weren't good speakers—so even though we could stand to be in the same room and be pleasant with one another, I couldn't ignore the whispered questions in my head. Who was I to her? And even more —who was she to me?
“Piper won't be home for another hour,” I said after a moment. She set down her cup of juice and looked at me, her eyes seeming to sparkle with something I could only peg as excitement. She didn't need to say anymore—her expression said it all. I slid closer to her then, trying not to grin like a toddler at Christmas. All it took was me thinking about Sam's naked body against my own to get me feeling hot and flushed with excitement. My heart was racing as I reached out and rested my hand on Sam's thigh, caressing the fabric covering my skin. But even with a thin layer between me and him, he could still feel the heat from my skin warm my hand.
“You're beautiful,” I said. It had come out unintentionally, a comment I hadn't planned to make. I knew Sam, knew how badly the woman took any compliment. I expected her to laugh it off, or to roll her eyes at me, but I was pleasantly surprised when she did neither. She blushed instead, casting her eyes downward. She was smiling.
“You're not too shabby yourself,” she said quietly, and I couldn't resist reaching out and caressing my thumb over her covered nipple. She reacted as I’d hoped she would—with intense desire. Her back arched and her head rolled back slightly, taking in my touch. Had this girl been any other woman, I wouldn't have concerned myself with this—I had always been good in the sack, a natural charmer, and I knew it. But with Sam, my whole mindset seemed to change. It was no longer about me and my needs. Now, when I was with her, I hoped to make her feel good—I strived to be noticed by her, to please her in ways that no other man had ever been able to.
“Nick,” she said softly. She was leaning in toward me, he
r breath warm on my face, her eyes partially closed in ecstasy. I continued to stroke her, feeling my manhood rise to the occasion and throb against my jeans. Even when I had been with Lindsay, I’d never felt the way I was feeling now—so complete.
“Shhhhh,” I murmured and rested my lips on hers. She closed her eyes right before I did, and I could feel her tongue slip between my lips playfully. She was hungry for me, like a starving animal.
“What would Emily think?” she breathed between my lips. I pulled back, but only slightly. I had wondered the same thing before when I had started noticing Sam as more than just my twin sister's strong-willed best friend. I didn't like to dwell on it for long, especially not now, when all he wanted was to rip off Sam's clothes and take her on the sofa. As I continued to kiss her, Emily's face popped into my head, judging, and I felt myself unwillingly pulling away from her.
“Jesus,” I said, and Sam, too, pulled her head away. We looked at each other, not speaking, simply staring. Sam was nibbling on her lower lip now, looking innocent, like I hadn't just put a damper on the mood. “I have no idea, Sam,” I said finally. “You two were best friends. You tell me what she would think.”
“I wish I knew.” She didn't object as I dropped my hand from her breasts, pulling back. So much for that.
“This is a problem, isn't it?” I asked. I knew this conversation would have come eventually; it was inevitable. Despite us both being single, we hadn't taken any relationship past sex. Was this a fling, or something more? And Sam was right—would Emily even approve? It didn't matter that she had passed. My sister's memory would linger forever, and I wondered every day what she would think of our situation now.
“I'm sorry, Nick,” Sam said after a moment, and I was caught off guard as she got to her feet. “I can't do this right now.” I watched her retrieve her phone from the table and then head upstairs to the bedroom. As she vanished behind a closed door, I could hear her say Tasha's name into the receiver. She wouldn't talk to me—had I expected her to?
Sam
I closed the bedroom door firmly behind me and collapsed onto the bed, pressing the cell phone against my ear.
“Are you okay?” Tasha asked on the other end of the line. “I haven't heard from you in a while. You sound—different.”
“I'm sorry, Tash.” I put the back of my hand to my forehead, willing my skin to cool down. Every time I was with Nick now, my body responded to him by lighting up with heat—it sometimes took as long as an hour to settle myself down. “Shit has been happening.”
“Okay,” Tasha said carefully, and my heart ached as I listened to my friend's voice. “Tell me about it.” And so I did. I told Tasha everything about what had been going on between me and Nick—I could hold nothing back and realized how difficult it was to put our relationship into words. I couldn't explain it well—how can you explain desire and passion like that to someone else when it was still a brand-new feeling to you?
“You're in trouble,” Tasha said when I had finished. Downstairs, I heard the front door open and close. Nick was leaving.
“I know I am,” I said, and closed my eyes. “What do I do, Tash?”
“I can't tell you that,” Tasha said. “That must come from you, Sam. And Nick, too. This isn't high school—and even beyond that, there's a kid involved. I hate to rain on your parade, but you people should figure your shit out. Piper needs something more stable. It's only a matter of time before she catches wind of whatever in the hell this is and reacts to it. Is that what you want?”
“I don't know what I want,” I admitted, and I wasn't lying. Since being dumped by Richard, my heart had been shattered. And there was only one person who had succeeded even a little bit in dulling the pain—and that was Nick.
“Figure it out, babe,” Tasha said. “If neither of you do, this could ruin everything.”
Nick
I had never been one to run from my problems, but tonight I couldn't think of a better thing to do. I had avoided for so long thinking about what my relationship with Sam entailed. I had avoided it because I knew it wouldn't be a pleasant thing to think about. What could I do? Talking about whatever in the hell was going on could ruin everything we had—but then again, I knew all too well that if we never talked about it, things could fall apart anyway. I wasn't a teenager—I knew that if I was truly going to be an adult, it was time for the conversation to be had. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to do it. We weren't there yet—and tonight, after she had pulled away from me and turned to someone else, I was more certain than ever that we weren't where we had to be. So what could I do now? Sam was pulling away, and my first reaction to her hesitance was to withdraw, to put my guard back up so I wouldn't be the only one to get hurt. What would happen now?
Ordering another shot of rum from the bar (I hadn't been sure of where else to go), I pulled out my cell phone and checked the screen for any texts or missed calls from Sam. There was nothing. I unlocked the phone and scrolled through my contacts, debating what I could do now. After a few moments of uncertainty, I opened my Facebook and searched Tasha’s name. When I found her, I sent a message, hoping she’d get it in time.
Sam
Nick still wasn't home when Piper got back from school, but I tried to ignore the nagging feeling and focus on the kid instead. He hadn't tried to call or text me even once since he'd left earlier. I had no idea where he was, and it took everything in my power to try and not care. It wasn't my business. He could be anywhere he wanted to be, and I wouldn't be able to tell him otherwise. After running to the store for the makings of a hot fudge sundae, Piper and I made dessert and vegged out in front of the TV after I helped her with my homework. At nine, Piper went upstairs to bed, and at eleven, I passed out downstairs. It was almost three in the morning when Nick finally got home. I jolted awake as he came through the door, and my first impression was that he was shit-faced drunk. But as he closed the door behind him and kicked off his shoes quietly, I noticed that he wasn't drunk. He barely looked buzzed.
“Where have you been?” I asked, and the words were out before I could stop them. It wasn't my business to ask, and I worried Nick would snap at me.
“I just needed some time to think,” he said instead. I sat up, kicking the quilt off my legs. I was glad he displayed no sign of annoyance, but the curiosity was pulling painfully at me. Had he been with Lindsay? Or a male friend? A strip club? Had he fucked a woman just to take his mind off me? I didn't know, and I couldn't ask. It was none of my goddamn business.
“Is the kid asleep?” he asked. His tone had changed, but I couldn't place exactly how. The tone he'd been using earlier was gone—the kindness. Now he spoke with a hint of professionalism, like new roommates discussing the chore list.
“Yeah,” I answered. “We had ice cream and watched Disney movies.”
“I'm glad to hear that,” Nick said. He smiled, but it wasn't genuine.
“Nick,” I said, and stood up. “I think we need to talk.” For a moment, I was sure he would agree, and I was sure he would smile and nod and take a seat next to me, and we could be civil and hash this out—whatever this was. But instead of nodding and agreeing, he averted my gaze to the floor and looked away from me.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he said. “I'm exhausted.” I opened my mouth, but I didn't know what to say. He'd rejected me. I knew it was no use pushing him.
“You can sleep upstairs,” I said instead. “I'll take the couch tonight.” Part of me expected him to fight me on that, but what I wanted was him to join me wherever I was. I sat back down on the couch and waited, but he only nodded at me once before heading upstairs to the bedroom.
“Goodnight, Sam,” he said over his shoulder. He sounded exhausted, and I wondered if it was because of me. “Sleep well.”
Nick
I felt horrible, yes. I knew I had hurt Sam, but I didn't have a choice. Tasha had been firm with me when I'd called her from the bar—she had told me what I didn't want to hear—to grow a pair of balls and decide what I
wanted, because both of us were being silly and immature. I liked Tasha. She reminded me of Emily, and the best part was she hadn't even sounded surprised to hear from me when I'd introduced myself as Sam's roommate and Emily's twin brother.
“She called me,” Tasha had said to me. “She said the same thing you're saying now.”
“So what do I do?” I had asked.
“Stop playing,” Tasha said. In the background, I could hear music. She must have been at her bartending job. “Stop playing and make it official or cut it off. The kid doesn't need it, and Sam doesn't need it. Especially after Richard.”
“I know,” I’d agreed, and then I’d invited Tasha to spend the weekend in Seattle. “I have a few days off,” I told her. “If you can purchase your flight in the morning, I'll reimburse you when you're here.”
“I've been waiting for someone to ask,” Tasha said, and it was settled. Sam needed a friend. If Tasha was the first person Sam had called to confide in, then Tasha had to be here for her, even if she couldn't admit it herself. So when I woke the next morning to see that Piper was at a friend's house and Sam was up making herself some eggs and toast, I was glad to see that Tasha had already boarded her flight and landed twenty minutes ago in Seattle. She was in a cab on her way to the apartment.
“Good morning,” Sam said to me as I poured myself a mug of coffee. “How did you sleep?” Even though she tried to sound genuinely interested, I could tell she was still annoyed with me after last night. She wouldn't even look me in the face.
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