Just Friends: Two Friends-to-Lovers Stories

by Adams, Noelle

  “I can’t right now,” I manage to say. “We can talk in the morning.”

  “Okay,” he says, sounding sad, battered. I’ve never heard him like that before. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

  I listen at the door and hear him walking away. Then I go to my bed and cry some more.

  ABOUT AN HOUR LATER, I’m lying on my bed, feeling sick and paralyzed by emotions. I stopped crying a while ago, and now I’m in that heavy, aching haze that follows.

  I should just try to go to sleep, but my mouth is parched and I left my water bottle in the kitchen.

  When I finally summon the energy to get up, I go the bathroom and then wash my face. I look horrible, pale, and pitiful with messy hair. There’s nothing to do about that now however. I go to my bedroom door, unlock it, and peek out at the hall. It’s quiet, so I lean out enough to see that Nate’s bedroom door is closed.

  The cottage is absolutely silent, so I decide it’s safe to go out.

  I pad quietly into the kitchen and grab my water.

  As I return to my room, I stand for a minute and stare at Nate’s door.

  I still can’t believe he’s Rochester. I still can’t believe he had it in him all this time to talk about life and the world and feelings as deeply and genuinely as he did in our messages. I still can’t believe he said he wanted to be my... hero.

  When we were juniors in high school, my date dumped me right before the prom. Nate hadn’t been planning to go. He’d been all excited about a golf weekend with his father down in South Carolina. But on seeing me so crushed, he told his dad he had to stay in town, and he took me to the prom himself.

  We had such a good time that evening. I wasn’t even that sad about being dumped by the first and only high school football player who ever asked me out.

  Nate has always been my hero.

  I turn off the lights and crawl into bed, and I cry a little more in the dark.

  I have no idea how much time passes before the bedroom door opens. The lights are out, but I can see Nate silhouetted against the light from the hallway.

  “Sorry,” he murmurs when I stir. “I was just checking on you. Were you asleep?”

  “Are you all right?” I have no idea why I ask that—just that he sounds as broken as I feel.

  “Yeah. I couldn’t wait until morning. Can I come in?”

  “Yes.”

  He walks into the room, and I can see in the faint light from outside the room that he’s wearing pajama pants and nothing else. He stands beside the bed. “How are you?”

  It’s the most ridiculous question I’ve ever heard. I stretch out my arms toward him, suddenly realizing that he’s still my best friend in the world and that’s never, ever going to change. “Nate.”

  With an odd, throaty noise, he lowers himself into bed, gets under the covers, and gathers me into his arms. I cling to him, try to burrow into his warm body.

  “God, baby, have you been crying all this time?”

  “No. Just sometimes.” The skin of his bare chest sticks to my cheek. He smells like Nate, like strength.

  “I’m so sorry, Jane. I didn’t set out to hurt you, but I know I did. And I’m so sorry about it.” His arms tighten, and I can feel his breath against my hair. “You believe me, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” My heart is racing, and my breathing is growing shallow, and I really don’t know why. Just that something big is about to happen.

  “I love you more than anything, Jane,” he murmurs thickly, stroking my hair and my back.

  “I love you too.” I have to say it because it’s true, and no matter what else has happened, I can’t leave his declaration hanging in the air unanswered.

  “I love you in every way a man can love a woman.”

  “You do?” I shift against him, trying to get even closer to him. The room is very dark and utterly silent. I’m starting to put pieces together, so many little signs and clues that are suddenly all making sense.

  “I do. And I want you to love me like that too.”

  I don’t know what to say in response to that. The world is spinning around me again, but not as dizzyingly as before. It’s still terrifying, but now it’s more than that.

  Now it’s thrilling too.

  In the dark of the room, it feels like Nate and I are alone in the world—where doing certain things might finally be safe.

  My lips are right next to the skin of his chest, so I kiss him there. No particular reason or conscious thought. I just want to feel him as much as I can.

  He makes a soft, husky noise, and I like the sound of it. So I press my lips against his skin again. He feels so good. So warm and hard and strong. I need him.

  I need him so much.

  Nate has lowered his face some, and I can feel his breath against the side of my throat. He’s breathing just as quickly as I am, and I can feel his heart racing just like mine.

  I tighten my arms around him. I can’t seem to get close enough. I tilt my face up toward his, and his lips find mine in the dark. The kiss is soft, tender, but hungry. So hungry. We’ve never kissed this way before, and it feels good.

  So right.

  “Jane,” Nate murmurs against my mouth. He pulls away from me slightly, his body tenser than ever.

  I make a choked sound and draw him back against me. “Please don’t leave me, Nate.”

  “I’m not going to leave you.” His voice is too low, too thick. “But...”

  As I shift against him, I feel something unexpected against my middle.

  My breath hitches.

  I’m not sure why I’m surprised after what he’s just told me, but I am. I’ve never thought to feel Nate like this before. I used to occasionally wonder what he’s like in bed, but I always cut the imaginings short since it felt wrong to think about him that way.

  It doesn’t feel wrong now.

  I shift again, and my surprise vanishes. The whole world is dark and quiet and deep and urgent. If Nate is hard, it seems a natural part of this strange and needy night. I rub myself against him, feeling a corresponding tension tighten between my legs.

  I want him too.

  “Jane, don’t.” Nate gasps although he pushes his hips into mine. “Not unless... unless...”

  I know what he’s saying. I don’t stop. The pressure at my center is almost painful now, a deep arousal developing out of nowhere, spurring me on. I kiss his shoulder, moaning at the feel of his erection against my belly.

  “God, Jane. Are you sure?” His hands are all over me now, touching me in ways he never has before, caressing my back, my bottom, my thighs, the curve at the side of my breast.

  “I need you, Nate. Don’t leave.” I kiss my way up his neck and linger to mouth his jawline, where I always kiss him, my special spot.

  “I’m never going to leave you.” He grunts as I wrap one of my legs around his hip, aligning his erection with my arousal. “Jane, baby, are you sure? Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Yes, this is what I want.” I couldn’t have stopped even if I wanted to. But I don’t want to. Some sort of desperate hunger has taken over my body, and Nate is all that matters in the world.

  I pull down his pants to free his hard length and take it in my hands until he makes hoarse sounds of pleasure that just deepen my own need. Then I let him slide off my pajamas and position himself between my legs.

  “Jane?” His mouth is brushing lightly against mine, and he’s holding himself with so much restraint that he shakes from it. His skin is damp with perspiration. So is mine.

  I pull him down on top of me, needing to feel him. All of him. “Nate, please. Now.”

  “Do we need—” He breaks off abruptly, as if he’s feeling too much, too good.

  I’m on birth control, and we’re both healthy. I know it for sure. There’s no way I can stop at this point anyway. “Nate, now.”

  The pressure as he enters me is intense. And it’s deep. And it fills me in every way. I gasp out, arching beneath him. And I gasp again wh
en he takes his first thrust.

  We don’t speak as we rock together, the covers pushed down past Nate’s hips. I dig my fingernails into his back and his ass, marking him in my desperation to get him even closer, feel him as deeply as I can.

  His rhythmic huffs intensify as my motion becomes frantic and rushed beneath him. I can hear myself making odd little sobbing sounds, but I can’t help it. All the need, all the pressure, all the pleasure is coalescing into a tension that is about to break.

  I wrap my legs around him, squeezing him with my arms and my thighs.

  Nate lowers his face to give me a clumsy, hungry kiss.

  I climax against his mouth, my cry of release muffled and my body shaking helplessly.

  Nate’s head jerks to the side and he chokes out, “God, Jane. Yes.” He falls completely out of rhythm as he comes as hard as I do.

  He buries his face in the hollow between my shoulder and throat, and I cling to him with my arms and my legs. We’re both gasping loudly, hot and exhausted and replete.

  My body feels good. The weight of Nate on top of me feels good and natural and safe. My body is still clinging to him internally, occasionally spasming around the feel of him softening inside me.

  The world is this room—a dark, deep, silent, primal place. But even in this room, something at the back of my mind is wondering if this is even right, if this is how we are supposed to be.

  Nate is my best friend, my family, my security. He has never been this.

  I smother the thought as soon as it materializes. We need each other tonight. We’ve loved each other all our lives. And nothing—not pain or lies or betrayal or the motion of our bodies—will never be able to tear us apart.

  I’ll worry about the rest of it tomorrow.

  Five

  TOMORROW COMES SOONER than I want it to.

  I wake up tangled in Nate’s limbs—lying on one of his arms, trapped beneath one of his legs. He’s still asleep as I try to process where I am and what happened last night. Then I gently try to slide away from him without waking him.

  I pull on my pajama pants, which have been pushed under the covers, and then I sit on the side of the bed and try to breathe.

  It feels like the world is different than it was just yesterday.

  I hear the covers rustle and feel the mattress shift, and I know that Nate has woken up. He doesn’t say anything. He just scoots over to my side of the bed, pulling on his pajama pants as he straightens up to sit beside me.

  I watch him as he does so. He was sleeping naked, and I can clearly see the hair on his legs, the flat skin of his abdomen, his penis and balls before he pulls the waistband up to cover them. Last night, it was too dark for me to see his body, and I can’t help but look now—in the light.

  I’ve always loved how he looks, and that hasn’t changed now that I can see him naked.

  He sits beside me, as silent as I am.

  After a minute, he reaches over and picks up my hand, which is resting on the bed between us. He holds it in both of his.

  I don’t pull my hand away—partly because it would hurt him and I don’t want to do that, and partly because I like how it feels.

  Eventually I decide someone should say something, but I have no idea what to say. I have no idea what to think. I don’t know if things are hopelessly wrong between us now... or finally, finally right.

  The lingering, urgent question in my mind upsets me so much I take a loud, shaky breath.

  Apparently, that’s what breaks through Nate’s reserve. He speaks in a voice that’s intentionally gentle, intentionally composed. “I joined that dating site because you were raving about it so much. I was curious, and I wanted to do it and then tell you afterward, just to tease you or whatever.”

  I take another deep breath, this one a little less shaky. His words make sense and sound true.

  “I named myself Rochester... Well, it was just to be funny and ironic. You’re Jane and I’m Rochester. I thought you would get a kick out of it.”

  For the first time since he got dressed, I look over at him. His vivid blue eyes are focused unwaveringly on my face.

  “I didn’t go looking for you. I promise I didn’t. But I guess there were enough similarities in our profiles that they matched us up. I knew it was you. I knew it from the beginning. I was going to... going to write you one note and then spill the beans. I thought it would be funny.” He clears his throat. “But then you wrote back to me, and you were so... so you. And you told Rochester things you’d never told me before—about how you always felt like you were searching for something deep, something that would change you. I had to respond to it. I had to make sure you were heard. And then I couldn’t seem to stop.”

  He’s still holding my hand, stroking the back of it with both his thumbs, and my heart is jumping around wildly as I breathlessly wait for him to finish.

  “It’s like I said last night. I suddenly had the opportunity for you to see me in a different way, hear what I think about things, take me seriously in a way you never have.”

  I make a strangled noise. “I always take you seriously. You’re the one who always tries to lighten up deep conversations.”

  “I know. I know I do that. I always have. It’s hard for me to... to go deep—even with you. But as Rochester, I was able to do it because there was this layer of distance between us. But all of it was really me. None of it was a lie or an act. I might have started because I thought it would be funny, but it stopped being funny a long time ago.”

  “So when...” I’m so overcome with emotion that I have to pause and restart. “So when were you planning to tell me.”

  “I’ve been wanting to for weeks now, but then...” He gives a rueful huff of laughter. “But then I started to get jealous. Of Rochester. How ridiculous is that? But I started to worry that you were only interested in that one part of me and not all the rest. So I kept stalling. I knew if I told you, I’d have to tell you everything... about how I feel about you, I mean. And I was so scared that it would change everything between us. It was just too much to risk.”

  “And... and how do you feel?” I’m holding my breath now. I have no idea why.

  His face softens, and his eyes are very tender. “I told you last night. I love you—in every way a man can love a woman.”

  “We were...” I pause to swallow hard. “We were always best friends.”

  “I’m still your friend. I’m still your best friend.”

  “How long have you...” I can’t quite finish the question.

  He gives a little shrug. “I don’t know. I have no idea. For a while. For a few years. I’ve always been attracted to you, even though I wasn’t supposed to be. But eventually it just came together that I wanted even more from you. But you were always dating someone else, and then your mom... your mom died. So it never seemed like the right time to make a move.” He sighs. “Besides, if you didn’t feel the same way, then it was just too much to risk.”

  “Yeah.” I breathe, understanding completely. More and more often, I’ve been getting little flickers of interest and feeling for him—but pushing them away immediately since they would unavoidably change things between us, potentially come between us.

  We sit without speaking for a few minutes, the silence broken only by the sound of our breathing.

  “So do you...” Nate’s raspy voice finally cuts through the quiet. “Do you understand?”

  “Yeah. I understand.”

  “Are you still mad at me?”

  “A little.”

  “Do you...” He clears his throat. “Do you think you might feel the same way I do?”

  I’ve been staring down at my lap, but now I suddenly look up to see his face. “I love you.”

  “I know you do.”

  “I... I’m really attracted to you. I never admitted it before, but I am.”

  His expression softens with something strong—maybe relief. “Good.”

  “I really liked what we did last night.”

/>   He leans forward slightly, his eyes holding mine. “Me too.”

  “I’m scared.”

  His lips are just a breath away from mine. “Me too.”

  He presses his mouth against mine, and my lips soften and then open for him. The kiss deepens as he pushes forward, taking my head in both his hands. Pleasure and excitement and absolute trust rush through my body with my blood.

  Because this is Nate. And he’s everything he’s ever been to me. And so much more than I’ve never dreamed of.

  After a few minutes, we end up lying on the bed together. He’s still kissing me gently, and I’m running my hands over his back. I love the feel of it—firm and smooth and lean and strong.

  He’s smiling as he rolls off me. I’m on my back, and he’s on his side. I’m not really ready for the embrace to end, so I turn my head and lean forward so I can kiss him again.

  He keeps smiling as he kisses me back.

  “Stop smiling,” I say for no good reason since I feel like smiling too.

  “I can’t.”

  “You’re making me self-conscious.”

  His hand has been resting on my hip, and now it slides up, stroking over my belly until he’s cupping one breast over my thin top. “I’m sure you’ll work through it.”

  He’s confident now, and I realize it’s because he’s assured himself that our changing feelings aren’t going to end up tearing us apart.

  That’s given me confidence too.

  I gasp as he gently thumbs my nipple.

  His smile widens, and his eyes crawl hungrily over my body and flushed face. “You have no idea how much and how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

  “Touch my boob?”

  He chokes on a laugh and leans forward to capture my lips again. Just before he does, he murmurs, “That and many more things.”

  So then the kiss deepens—a lot. He slowly undresses me, and I pull back down his pants, and he’s hard and I’m pliant as he enters me again. This time we’re as slow as we were urgent and rushed last night, and we rock together rhythmically, leisurely, and we’re kissing each other the whole time.