Friends with a Tryst

by Kris Jayne

  My legs turned to lead. “Their bad judgment isn’t yours to own. Some guys are...”

  “Liars?” she supplied. Then, she stumbled over a log and fell into me, and I shot my arm out to steady her.

  My face burned and not from the midday sun now rising over the trails. Erin righted herself, and we continued our ascent. She kept talking.

  “That might be why I lived with the situation for so long. The devil you know masquerades as security sometimes. He did make me feel...needed. He was really into me at first.” She chuckled. “I’m being obnoxious.”

  “No, you’re not. He should have been into you,” I said.

  The route narrowed around a curve, and she lined up behind me, so we could continue single file. Her hand weighed on my backpack, and I slowed.

  “Sorry,” she chirped. “I shouldn’t hang on.”

  “So Ricky never fooled around?” The question choked me, and I was grateful I didn’t have to look her in the eye.

  “No. I think he was too afraid. Or had it too easy, maybe? I paid the bills. I helped him with his art classes and helped fund his first gallery exposition. He wouldn’t have been able to quit working as a graphic designer if he weren’t living with me.” The path opened up, and she shuffled to my side. Her fist pumped in mock celebration. “Yay, he was too dependent to risk cheating.”

  “What would you have done? If he’d slept with someone else?” I ventured.

  “Probably kicked him out. Probably never dated again.” Her laugh cracked like a piece of shale off a cliff. “I know what they do doesn’t reflect on me, and I shouldn’t internalize some dude’s assholery, but still, having guys always decide you’re not enough gets old.”

  Anger at the poor representations of my gender who were fucking up Erin’s self-esteem nearly sent me into a tirade of ranting and giving her one of my pep talks. But I also longed to grab her and kiss her and make her feel wanted—not just needed. I said and did nothing but keep walking.

  “Anyway, he still left. He had to run off and go to Burning Man. He had a chance to show his photography with a gallery owner I’d done some website work for. The guy agreed to help sell his work. He blew it off. I yelled at him before he left.”

  A fraction of the tension eased in my chest. “You never told me.”

  “Yeah,” she sighed. “He was furious at me for deciding what he wanted for his career. I told him if he wanted to be with me, he needed to show more commitment to his work, our future, anything. He said he needed time to think without me haranguing him. Then, he left. I couldn’t help it. I’m a pushy, mouthy broad.”

  “Ricky needs a push.” My eyes drifted to the edge and the ramble of rocks below.

  Erin laughed. “Yeah. No wonder he replaced me with another mouthy broad. Blue Bell doesn’t put up with much, does she?”

  “Nope.” I kicked a rock and stopped for a moment to grab a swig from my water bottle.

  Erin took one from her own bottle and pulled a Longhorn baseball cap out of her bag, securing it on her head with a two-handed tug. “God, I’m blabbering on and on about Ricky. I’m sorry. Why are we talking about him? Didn’t you have something you wanted to ask me?”

  Her sweet smile turned up at me, and the revelation I’d poised my lips to tell died away. Black-site government interrogators couldn’t have dragged the story out of me now.

  I’d figure out the Ricky problem. Somehow.

  The ingrate’s leaving because she threw down a gauntlet meant something to her. I couldn’t tell her Ricky was willing to confess to cheating and finagle forgiveness out of her—convinced she’d stay with him regardless of badly he treated her.

  And I couldn’t tell her I’d believed it too, so I wrote the jackass a check.

  “I did...um, I made a dinner reservation for New Year’s. I thought I could pick you up around 7:30, and we’ll have dinner at 8.”

  “You brought me out to the woods to ask me about a New Year’s Eve dinner reservation.” Her statement rang more as an indictment than a question. I coughed to clear an imagined figment and my unsaid confession from my throat.

  “I wanted to see you again and see you how felt about the other day.” The first part was true enough, and I bit out the lie with an unspoken promise to tell her truth at some point. I would have to.

  “I don’t know.” She giggled. “You felt pretty good.” Her chin dropped to her chest, hiding her smile, but pleasure still diverted blood from my struggling brain.

  “No regrets?”

  The wind tossed the trees together in a rush. The crack and crash of leafless limbs the only sound for a stretch of time that made me sweat.

  “No.” She knocked into me with her elbow, still avoiding my eyes.

  “Good.” I tried out a relaxed smile. “Me neither.”

  The smell of damp leaves and earth rose around us.

  “Let’s not talk about it,” Erin declared. “This change with you and me…I’m still processing it, so let’s not overthink it. I always overthink, and it gives me heartburn.”

  “Won’t talking about it help us process?”

  “Extrovert.” Accusation and humor pinched her tone but lifted my heart.

  “So I’m clear, what are we not discussing? Our feelings?”

  “Exactly.” Erin skipped ahead and turned to face me, huffing from exertion and what looked like a strong dose of fear. “We’re going out. We’re friends. You’re telling me this ritzy party is going to be fun. I’m trying to believe you. I bought a ridiculous dress. But I don’t want to make a big deal out of two friends hanging out on New Year’s.”

  “Fine. I’ll play along if you’ll be my date.”

  “Yeah, so let’s not use that word.” Erin picked up her pace, pushing ahead.

  “We don’t have to talk about feelings. But Erin?”

  “Yeah?” She kept not looking at me.

  “I want to use that word.”

  She trampled a fallen branch instead of stepping over it—silent except for the heavy crunch of her feet.

  I pressed on, “I’ve wanted to use that word for—”

  “How much further to the top?” she asked with a shout.

  I let the topic go with the light breeze fanning branches overhead.

  “About a mile.” I lengthened my stride to catch up, and my lungs burned with all I hadn’t said. All we weren’t saying to each other. I reached for her and grazed a fingertip on her elbow. “Ease up. I promise no more talking about feelings.”

  “Perfect because if I keep going like this, you’ll have to carry me down.”

  Chapter 8

  Luke

  We wove our way to the end of the trail, going back and forth with our usual mix of snide, low-level flirtation. I’d stuffed my jacket in my pack, allowing the sun and wind to regulate my temperature. The fresh air and exertion working in balance.

  “God, I love this view,” I said.

  Erin pulled off her hat and ran a hand through her sweat-dampened hair before repositioning it. “From here, you can hardly tell we’re so close to the city.”

  “Yeah, although you can see the golf course from some of the side trails. A reminder of civilization—if you can call golfing civilization.”

  “Isn’t golf the height of civilization?” She smirked.

  “I won’t dignify that.” I shook my head. “The best part is down a ways. A branch off the main route leads to a pool with the best waterfall. I thought we’d wander there on the way back.”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything, but the waterfalls so far were pretty weak. What are we talking with ‘best’? Niagara or something like the little fountain I have on my desk at work?”

  “Leave it to you to bust…me,” I stuttered, not wanting to bring up my balls. I coughed. “I’d say in between.”

  Erin raised her brows and giggled. I ignored her innuendo—for now.

  “There’s an elevation drop, and the creek runs through there behind a line of trees. It’s bigger than the littl
e ones we saw on the way up. I come up here and meditate.”

  “You’re so healthy!” Erin bounced toward me and popped her fingertips twice against my cheeks. “Exercise and meditation. You’re so…Luke. Show me.”

  Trying to pretend the tingles in my face were from the workout and not her touch, I turned and led her back down to the beginning of a narrow, weed-covered path.

  “Are you sure we can go this way?” she asked.

  “Yes. See the marker?” I pointed to the small wooden sign peeping out from some brush.

  Erin peered down at the tangle of groundcover. “They could use some landscaping. I would have missed it.”

  “Most people do, which is nice when the park is busy.”

  I led her down over half a football field’s worth of rough stairsteps until the overhanging limbs lifted into a 20-foot clearing. I peeked back. Wonder exploded on her face.

  “Oh, wow.” She stopped where the plant life gave way to pebbled earth edging the creek flowing through the trees in a splashy descent over three tiers of rock. “What a perfect place to meditate. I love the sound of the water.”

  Erin closed her eyes. My joy rose with the corners of her mouth as I joined her at the creek’s edge. “This spot is of my favorites on the planet,” I whispered into her ear.

  She glanced up. “Better than a golf course.”

  “It’s irritating they built that thing.”

  “And they had to clear part of the woods for the course and the neighborhood.”

  “‘A good walk spoiled.’” I sighed.

  “Mark Twain, right? Wasn’t he talking about playing golf.”

  “Same thing.”

  “True.” Erin briefly closed her eyes again and inhaled deeply as she dropped her pack on a nearby rock. Her cheeks flushed pink. Serenity looked fabulous on her, and a wry smile emerged on her face. “I took up golf once when I dated that guy. Remember Mr. Propriety? I took lessons.”

  “In golf or propriety?”

  She grinned and shook her head. “Golf. Although, I might be equally useless at both. Lots of rules and uptight people making me want to scream ‘Fuck this!’”

  “Tristan, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wasn’t he in the closet?”

  Her trickle of laughter melded with the bubbling fall of water behind her. “I don’t know. There are many reasons a guy might have a stash of gay porn in his pickup, right?”

  I snickered. “What reason did he give you?”

  “I never asked him. I saw the Rumpers magazine, and a thousand things clicked into place. His secret phone calls, his angry ex-‘roommate,’” Erin curled her fingers into air quotes. “His obsession with going to church three days a week to keep him on the ‘straight and narrow’—his words. I broke up with him and moved on to the next loser.”

  “Not every guy you’ve dated has been a loser.”

  “I guess.”

  I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and pulling her to my side. She dropped her head, but I raised her chin with my index finger. “Everyone has kissed a bunch of frogs. You keep going until you find the right one.”

  She backed up to deliver a light punch to my chest. “The right frog? Kinky.”

  I caught her arm, tugging her back to me. When she didn’t pull away, my entire body flamed.

  “What do you know about kinky?” I grumbled.

  A blush bloomed on her face, but that didn’t stop the wicked jest in her eyes. “You have no idea what I’ve learned running around dating all these frogs.”

  I didn’t, but, God, I wanted to. Then, I would make her forget all the rest.

  Now or never. That voice in my head put everything else on hold. The same voice that drove me to kiss her the other day.

  This is your chance. Do it!

  I ran a thumb over her flushing cheek to her ear and down her jawline. The energy shift between us was both subtle and explosive. I wanted to say something clever about her kissing me instead of frogs or filling me in on her kinky side, but why talk?

  She didn’t want to talk anyway.

  I dipped my mouth to hers and let the growing familiarity of its softness settle into my bones. I spent years marveling at the rosy bow of those lips and wondering what it would be like to kiss her.

  She leaned into my chest, her mouth open in invitation. Yes. Again.

  I plunged my tongue against hers, pausing long enough to see if she would resist me. Doubt and lust mingled in my blood. I wanted her to want me.

  Erin grabbed a fistful of my shirt and pressed closer. Water, wind, and the rustle of tree limbs stoked the fire of victory in my gut. I couldn’t hide the hard, eager tent in my hiking shorts. Finally not having to urged me on.

  I anchored her head in my hands and explored her mouth. With a nip of her lips, she ground her belly against my hips with a groan. Erin dragged her teeth across my bottom lip and bit down. The sweet edge of pain made my cock jump.

  I moaned and massaged away the sharp twinge by trailing kisses down to her neck until her pulse strummed against the tip of my tongue.

  “Luke.”

  My name as a sigh on her lips snapped the last reins on moderation.

  I moved my hands from the plushness of her cheeks to the zipper at the base of her neck and tore it down in a race to get my hands inside her jacket. My fingertips found the hem of her shirt and ranged over the delicate skin of her waist, then her back.

  “Luke, wait.”

  I froze. Was she reconsidering? Her body was warm and pliant in my hands.

  She shimmied out of her thin fleece. Her eyes stayed closed.

  I mapped the slopes of her back to the tight band of her maximum-security sports bra. While I appreciated what technology had done to protect and serve breasts, I hated the dick-teasing puzzle they presented.

  I worked each hook open until I could slip my hands underneath the front of the Spandex contraption still strapped to her with criss-crossing fabric. It didn’t matter. Her heavy breast fell into my hand. I cradled the heft and pinched her tightened peak until she moaned against my mouth.

  Laughter. A shout.

  Erin stilled. Chilled. Not from the air. From the inside. I could feel the passionate heat of her spirit dissipate. She jumped back with a start. “Someone’s coming.”

  Unfortunately, that someone wasn’t me. Or Erin. Someone was trudging toward our hideaway.

  My chest heaved. Erin scrambled to put her top layer back on as her breasts, full and wonderful, swung free underneath her shirt. She yanked up the zipper as breathless as I was.

  “We should go,” she said, focused on the path behind me while scooping her pack on her shoulders.

  I stepped to her and pushed a fiery lock of wayward hair out of her face. “One more kiss.”

  Her mouth slanted. “Someone. Is. Coming.”

  “So you better hurry.” I tipped my head toward her, mouth parted, and waited.

  Erin darted her eyes over my shoulder, her lips pursed with doubt.

  She wasn’t going to.

  I rocked back on my heels to turn, but she seized my head between her hands and pulled my face down. Her mouth crushed mine with dizzying force. A longing grumble erupted from the long-dormant volcano of needing her.

  Voices grew louder. Somewhere.

  Erin ripped her mouth from mine. “Happy?”

  Her lips were plump and red. Her eyes wild with desire and mischief. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk back to the car with three legs.

  “Very.” I cleared my throat.

  She swept her thumb across her bottom lip then strode past me, and I followed.

  Chapter 9

  Erin

  Thirteen minutes. No, fourteen now since Luke’s text.

  I’m leaving now. Be there in a few.

  “A few” would have been twenty to twenty-five minutes. Now, six to eleven.

  I padded across my bedroom floor, not ready to endure the pain of high heels yet. The rest of me, however, was
finished—primped, polished, and as near perfect as I’d ever looked.

  Abby had insisted on coming over to arrange the tousled curls of my hair “strategically” and do my makeup. After what seemed like days, innumerable layers of foundation and powder coated my face and glittery shellac glossed every conceivable skin surfaced exposed to the now fading daylight.

  “You’ll look glowy. Like an angel,” she purred.

  I watched the tip of my nose crinkle up in the mirror and my eyes slant with worry. “I look shiny.”

  “You look sparkly.”

  My chest tightened. “I’m going to rub glitter all over him like a stripper.”

  “Exactly.” Abby grinned.

  “That is not a goal.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “How are we friends?” I shook my head.

  “Because you need me to do shit like this. Now, stop talking!” She tapped an index finger under my chin. In response, I raised my face, so she could apply more gloss over my lip color with a fine brush. “The lip stain should stay on the whole night, but I’ll put this in your bag along with the tube of gloss.”

  Abby loaded a tiny pot of the part ruby, part garnet goo in my evening bag with mints. Then, she helped me into my dress.

  “A-ma-zing!” she sang, turning me around to examine the results in my floor-length bedroom mirror.

  “Come with us,” I pleaded and turned to catch the view from behind. “Luke said he could ask Alexa for another invitation.”

  She ran the fine tip of a plastic comb through my hair to loosen one curl over my ear. “Ben doesn’t want to do a big thing tonight. He’s cooking me dinner at his place.”

  Bending forward, I made sure my girls wouldn’t spill out of my bodice. The chiffon tie was secure behind my neck but not too tight. I straightened and poured over every inch of the image in the glass.