The Awkward Path to Getting Lucky

by Summer Heacock

  “For the first time, I’m leading with my heart. I’m told there’s something to that.”

  His hand is back at his shirt, pinching the fabric between his finger and thumb as he stares at me. I purse my lips together and try my best to keep eye contact with him. My reputation as The Mouth is crumbling under the weight of this conversation.

  After what feels like forever, he finally says, “I’d like to try being with you, too.”

  A gust of air rushes out of me, and my shoulders deflate a little. “Well, then,” I say, my voice shaking some. “Look at us making progress here.”

  44

  “This is awkward progress,” I say, swinging my arms at my sides.

  “Yeah, I’m not really sure what to do from here,” he says, squinting at the wall.

  I tilt my head to the side and I stare into space for a moment. Eventually I snap out of it and say, “Okay, look, I know I made this very complicated and bizarre, but if we do this, do you think maybe we could just abandon all precedent?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “No rules, no deadline, none of that stuff. It’s all gone. It’s just you and me, and whatever happens. Like what I assume normal people do in relationships.”

  The corner of his mouth pulls up. “I’d like it very much if we could do that.”

  “Again,” I say, poking his carpet with the toe of my shoe, “I’m sorry for how I made you feel the other night. And I’m really sorry about ruining our first kiss. It was a damn fine kiss.”

  “I would have rated it up there pretty high.”

  Forgetting our awkwardness for a moment, I say, “Seriously, though, you are, like, unfairly good at kissing. What is that?”

  He grins and runs a hand over his jaw nervously. Oh, that jaw. “I accept the rave review.”

  “You know, with my confidence in every other part of life and your confidence in sexy times combined, we’d make the most perfectly confident human ever. They’d be superhero caliber.”

  He considers this. “Or it’d get all the awkward, self-deprecating parts and go full supervillain.”

  I frown. “Good point. Best not to risk it.”

  “So,” he says, taking a step closer to me. “We’re all done with the rules?”

  “Yep. Now we have to communicate all our issues as they come, like real grown-ups.” A small flush of embarrassment washes over me. “That’s more for me, but yeah.”

  “And we are talking done, done, right? No takesies backsies?” He takes another step closer to me, and my stomach does a little flop.

  I nod. “Totally done.”

  He moves right in front of me and stops. “You’re saying if I were to kiss you right now, it would be acceptable and not violate any codes or doctrines, and would officially count as a kiss in a court of law?”

  “Exactly that,” I breathe out. “In fact, it would be strongly encouraged.”

  His hands grasp my waist as he leans his forehead against mine. I want to reach out and touch him. No, I want to reach out and grab him and throw him down on the couch, but I’m slightly worried that it would spook him. So I stand here patiently as he tilts his head down, and I move only at the last second to raise my lips to his.

  Kissing Ben is quickly becoming my favorite activity. While I certainly sullied the memory of our magnificent kiss the other night with my little outburst, this is a fine—and perhaps superior—follow-up.

  His hands travel from my waist. One rests between my shoulders, the other on my lower back, both encouraging my body to curve perfectly against his. I reach up and feel his chest through the worn-out fabric of his T-shirt and dig my fingers in a little rougher than I mean to.

  I wait for him to pull away, but he doesn’t. His breathing picks up, and I pull myself closer still against him. I run my thumb along the length of his jaw, and it’s almost more than I can take. He twists his head and turns the attention of his lips onto my neck, working his way down to my collarbone again. I quite literally almost bite him as a reflex.

  “Ben.” I gulp, still clinging to him. “I fully respect wherever you may be at on this, but for what it’s worth, I’d like to go on record saying that I’d really, really like to try again.”

  His right hand, holding tight on my lower back, clasps shut on a fistful of my shirt. He pulls back to look at me, and his eyes are dark and clear. His breathing is level but fast. “Kat...”

  His voice is a little lower than usual, and it’s possibly the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. I make my case. “Look, if you’re not up for it, I understand, and that’s fine. And I’m trying to be dignified about this right now, but I’m about two seconds from throwing you down on this carpet and doing very bad things to you, Mr. Cleary. And yes, stuff’s complicated, and I get that. If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. But Ben, I’d really like to give it a shot.”

  “Kat, look,” he says, pulling away from me just enough that the wind whooshes out of my sails. “I do want to start over with you, and I’m glad we made your deadline.”

  “Ben—”

  “But at the same time,” he continues, “I was mad at you for making the situation what it was.” I hang my head a little, embarrassed. “I want to be with you. That’s all I’ve wanted this entire time, which was admittedly stupid of me, knowing the circumstances. But I don’t want the deadline or your therapy or any of this to be a regret. More than that, I don’t want you to push yourself into something because you’re afraid of that regret.”

  A flash of a smile hits my face as I recall our night together. Pulling away the sheer madness of therapy sex and all it entailed, I haven’t been able to get the magnificent feelings of the two of us together out of my head. The repeated urges to kiss him. The way his skin felt under my fingers. The glorious scent as I breathed him in over and over until I reached a state of total body joy.

  I reach out and put my hands on his arms, resisting the urge to fling them around me again. “Ben, I wish I could take back the whole idea of therapy sex, but honestly, I’m so glad it was with you. But I’m not talking about therapy sex now. I meant what I said in the shop that day. I wanted to have a wild, jawline-biting romp with you then, and, well, I’m far beyond that now. I want to have real sex with you. Not because of deadlines or rules or any of that, but because I’ve wanted to for a very long time and you’re giving me the fantastic feelings.”

  “Oh.” He pulls at his shirt again. “Would that...even work?”

  “I assume there have been studies done to support the theory,” I say with a shrug. “Although I kind of feel like we’re back to setting up rules, here. It’s taking a little bit of the romance out of the situation.”

  He smiles a confused smile, and returns his hands to my waist. “It really is, isn’t it?”

  “Bit clinical.”

  “So, no more therapy sex at all?”

  “It’s not even a thing. Completely off the table.”

  “And you’re sure?” he says finally. “Really sure?”

  “Very super sure,” I concede.

  He kisses me again, and it takes a hell of a lot of control not to start ripping clothes off him right where we stand.

  Eventually he pulls away, and takes my hand from his chest and holds it in his for a moment. “Let me give you the tour, then.”

  He leads me through his living room and through a doorway near the back. I have to stop myself from bouncing with glee the entire way.

  We reach his bedroom, and I can’t even be bothered to look around. My focal point is demonstrably more interesting.

  He turns to me and takes my face in his hands. I’m not sure I’ve ever swooned, but I assume this is what it feels like.

  “Kat, when we—”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want to worry about any of it,” I say
, running my hands up his arms and joyously appreciating the feeling. “I just want to be here with you. Is that okay?”

  Apparently it is. I can’t even keep track of the course of events that move us from standing in that spot to lying on his bed, but somehow we get there. At some point I peel off his shirt and absolutely marvel at the feeling of his skin against mine again. This is far preferable to getting naked for science. Further along in the unclothing process, I uncage weeks of self-restraint and flat-out have my way with his jawline. I feel like it was put on this earth for the sole purpose of making me feel an unfathomable tingling.

  After what I can only describe as the longest session of foreplay in the history of sexual record, I’m beyond ready for what’s next.

  It takes quite a bit of time, but after much effort and a lot of breathing, we’re there. It’s everything that was superb about the other night, with none of the stifling restraints. My entire body feels like it’s going to fracture from the tension that’s built up.

  Ben’s breathing is fractured and the muscles in his back are coiled tight. “Are you all right?” he asks, sounding ragged. I bury my face into the spot where his neck meets his shoulder and place my lips against his skin. Breathing in as deeply as my lungs will allow, I smile, savoring everything about the moment.

  “I’m fantastic,” I say, and mean it.

  45

  The morning rush has ended, and we’re standing in the kitchen, awaiting our daily instructions from Shannon, who is cradling her coffee mug like a newborn.

  “In a weird little twist,” she says, “we’ve had an outrageous number of orders for naughty novelty cakes in the last twenty-four hours. I think we all know who to thank for that.”

  I grin. “Hey, man, everybody needs a niche.”

  She smiles at me. “Business is business. And no one canceled orders yesterday. So far, other than those three orders the first day, that broadcast has gotten us nothing but new business. I’m not even mad.”

  “I have to make a penis cake, don’t I?” Liz asks wearily.

  Shannon checks her notebook. “Three, actually. By next Saturday.” I snort. She looks up at me, and her expression is positively wicked. “And you’ve got seventy-five vagina cupcakes and two hundred boob-cuppies due by next Friday. So. Good luck with that.”

  Butter bursts out laughing so hard, she has to lean on her station for support. Liz giggles into her apron.

  I hold up my hands. “You know what? That’s fine. I happen to be on good terms with the specials of the world at the moment. In fact, I was going to see if anyone minds if I take tomorrow off as a vacation day. Seeing as I’ve never actually taken a vacation day.”

  Shannon looks confused. “Sure, you can take the day. But I don’t understand what...”

  Butter points at me and screams, “She had sex again!”

  They all gasp. Even Butter. Which is weird, since she is the one who actually made the announcement.

  “Oh my god, did you?” Shannon whisper-shouts at me. “Was it...was it Ben?”

  “Yes, it was,” I say proudly. “And I’d like to revel in that accomplishment a little. And maybe, possibly have some more sex that is in no way a part of physical therapy. The regular kind is far superior. So, vacation day?”

  Shannon slaps her notebook down on the metal countertop. “Hell yes, you can have a vacation day. Girl. No wonder you look so damn happy. Good for you.”

  “How was it?” Butter asks, bending forward, hanging on the potential for a story.

  Liz makes a noise. “If she’s taking a day off work to do it again, I’m thinking it was probably pretty good.”

  “I’ve always said you were the smartest in the group,” I say, taking a sip of my own coffee.

  “Oh my god, you had sex with Ben,” Butter purrs loudly. “He’s so pretty.”

  “He’s so good at it,” I say in a giddy, hushed tone in spite of myself. “Sorry, but I don’t see how someone that socially uncomfortable can have that kind of inherent mastery. I’m just saying.”

  Shannon sits down on a stool and puts a hand over her heart. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

  “But everything went okay? Your special played nice with...everything? And you guys are good now?” Butter asks.

  Without my permission, my face erupts with a giant smile. “Well, Ryan and I officially parted ways—on amazingly good terms, I might add—and after copious amounts of groveling on my part, Ben forgave me for being a huge ass. Thank you for calling me out on that, Butter, and you, too, Shannon. But yeah, we got it sorted out. And the sex, well, it took some time, and it was kind of like an alternate universe of losing my virginity, but once we got there, it was pretty damn magnificent. I won’t ever be going anywhere near a two-year dry spell again, thank you very much.”

  A ding sounds out from the front room, and Butter almost chokes on her laughter. I shake my head as Liz squeaks. Shannon pokes her head through the door and sighs.

  “Come on back, Ben,” she says in her mommiest voice.

  A moment later, he appears in our kitchen, and Butter can barely contain her glee.

  “I’m going to put a bell on you, fella,” I say with a giggle.

  “I’ve been in locker rooms that have more wholesome conversations going. I hope you know that,” he says, pulling at his tie.

  “I’m pretty sure we had a deal,” I say. “Did you accidentally leave your mom here?”

  He throws his head back and lets out a laugh. “I thought we’d abandoned precedent.”

  “Damn.” Smiling, I lightly punch the air. “Foiled again.”

  Ben looks around the room and nods. “Good morning, ladies.”

  Liz and Shannon say hello back like normal people. Butter stares at him silently, grinning like a hyena until it gets uncomfortable, and then she finally says, “You guys totally had sex. Good on ya.”

  I close my eyes. “Butter. What the fuck.”

  Ben reaches up and rubs his eyes with his fingers. “I forget why I came here.”

  Shannon shakes her head and stifles her giggle. “Butter, don’t you have an order to be prepping?”

  “Yes, I do,” she says. “Kat, you better not have lost your naughty cake mojo now that you’re getting some. We’ve got about fifty loin cakes going out this week.”

  “I think I can manage.”

  “Oh, one more thing,” Butter says, sashaying over to me and unscrewing the lid off a little pot. In a flash, she has her glitter brush out and flicks a cloud of sparkles at my cleavage. “You’re welcome.”

  I have a moment of déjà vu as I stare down at my bedazzled chest, and Ben chokes trying to hold in a laugh. Shaking my head, I look up at my friend. “Goddamn it, Butter.”

  Shannon turns to Ben and says, “You can hang out as long as you’d like, at your own peril. You’ve become sort of a mascot, I think.” She heads back into the front room, and Ben moves over to my station.

  “And how are you this morning?” he asks, still fighting back laughter.

  I reach over and straighten his tie. “I am quite good, sir. And I also have tomorrow off. I have some ideas about what we might want to do with that free time.”

  The edge of his mouth pulls up. “Aside from just wanting to see how you were doing, that’s why I stopped by. I wanted to see if you’d like to have dinner tonight. We could start the event off properly.”

  “Sold.” I run my fingers down his tie and find that I’m pulling on it nervously the way he does. I almost laugh, but I’ve got something to say. “I think we should talk about the actual activities we’ve got planned. I’m all on board for this, but since I just got back in that saddle, I’m not sure how it’s all going to work, you know?”

  He leans over and gives me a very quick kiss. “Trust me, now that we’re past the confin
es of the rules, I can think of plenty of other activities to keep us busy. Plenty.”

  I grin as genuine tingles spread all the way down to my toes. “I bet you can.”

  He leans in and very quietly says, “Here you were, celebrating mastery, when we’ve barely scratched the surface. I’ve got more fantastic plans for you, Kat Carmichael.”

  I swear to god, my knees almost buckle.

  Shannon comes running into the back room, hissing, “Shh!” loudly at us all, even though none of us were making a sound louder than a whisper. We all turn and stare at her. “Yes, Mr. Peterson,” she says pointedly into the phone, “thank you for getting back with us so quickly.” She scurries into the front room again.

  I grab Ben’s arm and squeeze. “Oh, shit.”

  Butter looks gutted. “I thought we had until next week,” she whispers.

  Liz stands up straight and puts down her spreading spatula. “We all did our best, remember?”

  I nod. “We did. Even without that contract, we’re an amazing shop. And we have great customers who love us. And there will be other contracts, okay? We did a great job.”

  Liz reaches over and takes Butter’s hand, and Ben takes mine. We stand there silently, hoping to hear anything from Shannon’s end of the call. The shop is deafeningly quiet.

  A moment later, she walks into the back room looking completely stricken, still clutching the phone in her hand.