Leakage: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance

by Harley, Karen

  There were a lot of thoughts going through her mind as she anticipated the arrival of eight o'clock Friday night. The fact that it was the next Challenge day. The fact that she was supposed to go to bed with Harrison even though she had no urge to do so.

  But the main one insofar as Harrison was concerned was not wanting to disappoint him. He was the only guy she didn't feel was opposed to her in some way. Like he was trying to get something out of her that she didn't want to give.

  Her boyfriends used her money, her social connections, and her body.

  Her dad used her labor. Her obedience.

  Matt…Matt would take everything from her.

  But Harrison was nice. And she had agreed to do this.

  "Do you want something to drink?" he asked politely, his hands clasped behind his back.

  "No, thanks."

  He stood there looking at her, his brows slightly furrowed, as if wondering what to do with her.

  "You ate dinner?"

  "Just now."

  "Good. I guess…" He cleared his throat. "I guess we should get started."

  "Yes. All right," Jasmine said calmly. "That's fine."

  He nodded once. With a slightly determined expression, he began to undo the buttons of his shirt. Right there in the living room.

  Jasmine felt her chest begin to do that panic thing. But she turned to the side and started undressing, too. She took off everything—business suit, panties, bra, necklace, earrings, bracelet, shoes. Stripped completely, then turned and looked at Harrison.

  His chest rose, and then he openly surveyed her body—and his jaw kind of dropped.

  Jasmine's own jaw kind of fell as she looked at him. Harrison had a truly iconic masculine figure, tall and muscled and tan. Even better than the boy who used to live next door to her when she was growing up.

  And like the boy next door, I'd far rather eat cheeseburgers with him than jump into bed.

  Perhaps because it was a perfect reflection of what she was thinking, herself, she read his thoughts.

  Jasmine is really, really pretty. As pretty as the girl next door. Maybe we could go out for French fries.

  After all the anticipation, all the worry and buildup, the perception that Harrison felt exactly the same way she did was a humongous relief.

  The relief had an odd effect on her.

  Jasmine's lips trembled. She tried to control it, but it started in her stomach, then worked its way up to her shoulders, and before she had a handle on it, it was threatening to burst out of her throat.

  Harrison managed a better lid on his amusement. He looked off to the side, averting his eyes, lips pressing together.

  "I'm sorry." She pressed her mouth with her hand. "That was really rude of me."

  But then their eyes met, and this time they both lost it. Completely.

  "Geez," Harrison said a while later. He'd somehow ended up on the floor, part sitting, part lying on one elbow. She was hanging over the back of his couch. God, how long has it been since I've had a belly laugh like that? I needed that.

  "I'm going to kill Sara," Jasmine gasped. "I'm just going to kill her."

  "Don't do that," Harrison said, finally catching his breath. "Her schemes are utterly mad, but she's got good intentions. I think."

  "I cannot believe she got us to do this."

  "I know."

  "I actually walked in here and…"

  "And I started it. I thought we might as well get it over with. But…damn, Jasmine. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, and it has nothing to do with how gorgeous you are, because you know you're gorgeous, but I do not want to fuck you. I really don't."

  "I don't want to fuck you either," she said warmly.

  "Thank God."

  "I think I would like that drink. I'll get it, though. What do you want?"

  "Coffee," he said. "You know where it is?"

  "If you're talking about the little packets, I think so. But if you want something filtered…"

  "No."

  "We could go out and get the good stuff."

  "No. We can't leave, remember? We're supposed to be doing the Challenge. They are."

  Jasmine paused with her hand on a cabinet handle. Harrison had just made her aware of two things. One, Matt was in the apartment across the way with Sara, most likely having sex. The thought was viscerally repellent. Each time it had occurred to her this week what was going to happen come Friday, she'd rebuffed it.

  The second thought was more bizarre than actually distressing. She was walking around buck naked in front of Harrison. He was naked, too—sitting on the couch now in just his glasses.

  "Do you realize we still have our clothes off?" she told him.

  "Hard not to," Harrison said. Despite his words, he didn't seem to be paying attention. He was looking toward the door. Was he thinking about Matt and Sara too?

  "I love being naked," Jasmine confessed. "Couldn't do it when I lived with my folks. And you can't really wander around naked with roommates."

  "Even though you're the same gender. That is weird, now you mention it."

  "I guess if you don't have a live-in lover, you have to live alone if you want to be nude at home."

  "There are still nude beaches, right?"

  Jasmine made a purring sound. "Jamaica. Samurai Beach. Montelivet. Cream? Sugar?"

  "If you see some cream, sure. No sugar. Have you actually been to a nude beach, Jas?"

  "No. One day, maybe." She handed him his cup, giving him a once-over. "You seem pretty comfortable with the whole thing."

  "I'm a swimmer. There's not much difference between this and…"

  "Oh. Right." She sipped her apple juice.

  "We probably should get dressed, though."

  "Why?" Jasmine said stubbornly, taking a seat in the rocking chair. "We're supposed to be having sex. If we stay this way all night, then we can say we've tried, right?"

  "You're the boss." For the first time since they'd burst into hysteria, she saw him look a bit bashful. He nodded at her breasts. "Do those hurt?"

  She glanced down at the neat titanium discs pinned in the centers. "No. Does it look like they do?"

  "Yeah. Those aren't regular, uh…"

  "Nipple rings? No."

  "What are they? They're pretty." He spat out a swallow of coffee. "I mean—let me rephrase that. That jewelry is quite uncommonly attractive."

  She smiled. "They're called nipple shields. The barbells hold them on."

  "Do you wear them all the time?"

  "Pretty much, or the holes will close up. Nipples are a mucus membrane."

  Harrison looked interested. "No kidding? That's interesting."

  "Babies, you know." She sipped her juice. "You've never dated a girl with piercings?"

  "One. Not nipples, though. Jasmine, does it strike you that this conversation is very strange?"

  "I think we're supposed to be acting strange. What else is the Challenge for?"

  "I wonder." Harrison sounded suddenly bleak. "What do you think they're doing right now?"

  Jasmine sucked in a breath. "I don't know."

  Harrison leaned forward suddenly. "It's a stupid idea. I knew it was from the beginning. I should never have agreed to it. It's put us all in an awkward position."

  "Yeah." She contemplated her amber-colored glass. It was the same kind she'd used last week, when…

  She struggled to find something else to talk about. "How's your defense going?"

  He looked blank. "Fine. Well, not really. I'm running into some blockades."

  "Like what?"

  "Organizational structure. Switch one thing around and it changes the argument." Harrison began to wax technical. Jasmine forced herself to follow along, welcoming the distraction, even offering suggestions when he showed her a part of his draft. Harrison seemed bemused by her ability to deconstruct it.

  "English major," she reminded him.

  "Oh, right. Because you wanted to go into business?"

  "Because I didn't kno
w what else to do. It's noncommittal. The world's your oyster, they said."

  "It's not? I thought you liked working at the fan company. Even if not for your parents," he allowed.

  "I hate it with a passion, actually. But it's what I'm good at."

  The next couple of hours passed almost normally, except instead of being all four of them it was just them, and instead of just hanging out, they spent their time conversing. They talked about everything—his family. Her parents. Movies. Philosophy. Nude beaches. Memorable teachers. By the time they wandered into his room to look at his books, Jasmine felt more relaxed than she had felt all week. She found she didn't feel entirely comfortable strolling about naked in his bedroom, though.

  "Yeah, it's kind of weird," he acknowledged, so they wandered into the kitchen and fixed a snack.

  "This is great," Jasmine said happily. "I can never make tuna because it makes Sara gag."

  "She doesn't like tuna?" Harrison halted in the act of spreading tuna salad on bread.

  "Hates it. You never noticed?"

  "Really. No, I never noticed." Harrison frowned. "Is she allergic or something?"

  "I don't think so. Why?"

  "I don't know," he said, so vaguely that Jasmine did a double-take. "I like fish," he added.

  "And?"

  "And…" He flushed and turned away.

  She said slowly, "I don't think it's all fish. Just tuna. She just goes a little green when she smells it. I eat sardines around her all the time. And salmon. Shrimp."

  "Oh. Good."

  They'd covered practically everything else, Jasmine told herself. She debated with herself, then asked casually, "I never asked you. How did it go last week? Friday, I mean. With Sara."

  Harrison stopped. Jasmine watched in a kind of awe as his flush spread all over his back. "It was fine. No problems."

  She had a strong urge to tease him. It surprised her. She wasn't usually so nosy. But her mind was racing. A lot of things made sense now. Sara had been acting off this past week. Jasmine had barely seen her. Harrison obviously had had a good time with Sara last week. Which meant that maybe, perhaps, Sara had had a good time with Harrison last week, too.

  Which meant that maybe, today, there was a tiny chance, with Matt, she might not want to…

  No. Just do not go there.

  "Sara's been super-busy all week," she said nonchalantly. "As far as I can tell, she's still sworn off men."

  Harrison didn't reply. His tongue had been uncommonly loose tonight, but he seemed to have clammed up but good. Jasmine felt guilty now. She switched the subject and shoved a pickle at him.

  They ate their tuna salad sandwiches on the couch. He dug out a polyester blanket from the linen closet when she asked for a throw rug, because the couch was scratchy on her legs.

  "I don't know where he got that thing. It's not exactly the most comfortable piece of furniture. Not new, that's for sure," he said, chewing.

  Jasmine tensed when she realized he was talking about Matt. It was just casual conversation. Nothing unusual. But his timing was abysmal. Matt was the one taboo subject tonight as far as she was concerned.

  "I think it's the only furniture he had when I moved in," Harrison went on. "Except his desk and shikibuton."

  Jasmine remembered. Visiting Matt in that first year, before Harrison and more furniture had arrived, had been almost a camping experience.

  "He had a floor futon?" Jasmine was familiar with shikibutons. She'd slept on one herself years ago, when visiting her grandparents in Japan.

  "Oh, yeah. Rolled it up every day, too. Kind of minimalist, Matt is. Haven't you noticed?"

  She nodded. Lots of toys, lots of tech, not much kitsch, was Matt. "Was the couch his parents'?"

  "I don't think so. Street-side pick-up is my guess. He slept on the twin shikibuton and tatami mat up until last week sometime."

  "Last week?"

  "Mm. We picked up the new bed from the store. He actually paid retail for it."

  Jasmine was skeptical. "I didn't see anything being delivered."

  "It was during the day. Last Wednesday or Thursday. No, not last week. The week before. That's probably why you didn't see it. You were working."

  Jasmine felt the blood drain away from her face.

  Harrison glanced at her. His eyes widened. "Oh, shit," he said.

  He sat up. His expression was one of intense embarrassment. "God, I'm sorry. That was tactless. And indiscreet. It didn't occur to me that it had anything to do with the Challenge. Damn. My stupid mouth."

  "But I don't understand," she said. "How could he not sleep in a real bed when he has —"

  Harrison winced again. "Just forget I said anything, Jasmine. Really. Forget it."

  Forget it? Impossible. She knew Matt had girls over regularly. She'd seen them in the building hallway in passing. The stream of them. She also knew he had sex with them. She had no doubt whatsoever about that. Which meant that when he had sex, at least at home, it had been on the roll-up twin-sized futon.

  "Do they never stay over?" she said blankly.

  Harrison didn't pretend not to know what she was talking about. "Jasmine, forget this. Please. I feel like I've broken some kind of oath of roommatehood. Matt's actually a pretty private person. Well, you know that. Damn." He gave a short laugh. "I've been talking with you for hours like this —" he gestured at both of their figures—"forgetting about everything, and only now is when I feel like an idiot. Maybe that's why people wear clothes. To remember basic social decency."

  Jasmine didn't know what to say. It's not like she hadn't known Matt had one-night stands. But it made no sense. Why would he bother to buy a brand new bed—complete with wood bed frame, mattress, and box spring—just because of the Challenge?

  "I don't think it could have had anything to do with the Challenge," she said almost to herself.

  "No probably not," Harrison said after a hesitation. "Listen, are you done with that? I think we should both get dressed."

  "Yeah, okay." Jasmine got up and put her plate on the counter. She was still standing there, her back to the counter, when the front door opened.

  "Hey, we need to get dressed now," Harrison said from entryway to the kitchen. "It's way later than I thought. Do you know where —" He turned and his voice faded out as he and Jasmine both saw him at the same time.

  Matt, standing in the doorway in front of the open apartment door.

  In one moment, time dilated from a speck to a vast black hole, and Jasmine saw him take in everything.

  Jasmine and Harrison. Naked.

  The blanket on the couch. Clothes. Drinks. Plates.

  Jasmine.

  Naked.

  "Shit." Harrison's voice intruded, cutting off the time warp. "Sorry, Matt. We lost track of the hour. Can you give us a minute?"

  Matt didn't move, exactly, but seemed to teeter a bit.

  Harrison looked back and forth between the other two, said, "Fuck," and walked into the living room, scooped up his clothes, and went into his bedroom.

  "Sorry," Matt said woodenly.

  Jasmine didn't know how he could speak. It took her a while to find her own voice. "Matt, the door's wide open."

  Very deliberately, Matt turned and shut the door. Then he turned back.

  Then she saw the bottle of liquor in his hand. He raised it to his lips and drank from it. He had to tilt it quite high to get anything out. She wondered how drunk he was.

  "Glad to see you had a good time," he said.

  The bedroom door opened again and Harrison came in, dressed in jeans but still no shirt. "Ignore me," he said grimly and went out the front door, closing it behind him.

  Jasmine spared a moment to wonder where he was going, but had no reserves to linger on it. All her world had dwindled to the expression in Matt's eyes.

  He walked slowly up to the counter to stand right in front of her. She couldn't seem to move. There was a lot to absorb, but nothing seemed more important than the fact that Matt had seen her f
ully naked, and his eyes were not expressionless for once. They held very obvious contempt.

  "I'm here now." He spaced the words evenly. "So you might want to put on your bra."

  She flinched.

  He reached out and very deliberately touched one of her nipples. It contracted sharply. Jasmine jerked.

  She saw his Adam's apple move. His face was pale.

  Jasmine's paralysis ended. She went to the couch and started dressing calmly, forcing herself not to hurry even as she felt him watching. Once dressed, she went into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. She came back out, took the bottle from his hand, and offered him the glass.

  He didn't move to take it.

  She walked around him and tilted the glass up to his lips. After a hesitation, he angled his head back and opened his mouth.

  When he'd drunk as much as she figured was safe, she lowered the glass.

  The liquor was vodka. It still had a good quarter of its contents. She couldn't believe he'd drunk as much as he had, though. Maybe Sara had had some. She hoped Sara had had some.

  Or did she? Two drunk friends alone together with one agenda…

  Jasmine shook her head to clear it. She was still shell-shocked, in as much of a daze as Matt was, but without the alcoholic haze.

  Matt's voice came softly in her ear. "Do you want to wait?"

  She stiffened; she hadn't noticed him move that close, crowd her.

  "I'm sure he'll be back soon. You can wait in his room if you want. Even if it is after midnight."

  He reached around and stroked her throat, her lips. Then he turned and walked into his bedroom.

  The door swung open to his knock almost immediately. Harrison was obviously the last person Sara expected to see. "What are you doing here?"

  Harrison looked past her. The apartment she shared with Jasmine was dark. There were candles lit about the room. The place looked messy. Romantic. His heart sank down to his gut.

  "What are you doing here?" Sara demanded again. "Never mind. Come on in. Do you know how late it is?"

  "Better than you, obviously."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Matt came in just now. It's almost a quarter to one. That means you guys went into overtime. What happened? Was the sex so good you got carried away?" The moment the words were out, he regretted them. Talk about leakage…