Leakage: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance

by Harley, Karen

  "Yup."

  She recognized his tone: casual, dismissive, and deflecting. She wondered about that, and then had a flash of mind-numbing realization. He expected her to insult him now.

  And why not? You usually would whenever the subject of his work comes up.

  She took a deep breath. "Matt, when did you start blogging?"

  Because she was watching him as she asked the question, she noticed the tiny hesitation in his step.

  Matt glanced out toward the lake. "Seventh grade. There he goes." He pointed and she saw the bald eagle circling in an ever-widening spiral.

  "No, I mean for a living."

  "Why do you want to know, Jasmine?"

  Because I don't think I really know you, or ever have.

  "I'm just curious," she said coolly. "I don't know how people get started with that stuff."

  "Ah."

  "So?"

  "So…look it up on the Internet."

  "I want to know about you," she said reluctantly.

  She was strongly considering smacking him upside the head when he finally answered. "Just like you, I took a normal job after graduating from the U dub. It sucked. The hours, the job, the life. I liked blogging, and it's always brought in a little cash. There was a point when I badly needed cash, and the job wasn't doing it. So…."

  It was the longest speech about himself that Matt had ever given in her memory. She realized he was intending to leave it there. "What happened to you?" she prodded. "That you badly needed cash?"

  "Life." The flippant retort was classic Matt. And an impenetrable wall.

  She lifted her chin.

  Discomfort speared through her fingers; he'd wrapped his fist around them. She looked at him, startled.

  "Don't do that," he said. "Get defensive."

  "Me? You're the one who's evading the question. I thought for once we were actually…." She clamped her mouth.

  Her hand was released and the breath whooshed out of him. "You're right. I'm sorry. What did you ask….blogging. So I started to treat the reviews as a business instead of a hobby. Fairly soon, I was making enough money to move out of the U District."

  "Is that when you came to Green Lake?"

  "Yeah. And a year later, there were search algo changes and most of my income crashed. I advertised for a roommate. Thus Harrison."

  "I always wondered why you and Harrison became roommates."

  "I'm not sure why he was looking for a share," Matt said. "If I had to guess, I'd say he wanted someone to handle the bills."

  "Figures. So you still write reviews on your blog? Even though the money's not there?"

  "Oh, things have picked up again. It's an up-and-down business."

  But it is a business. And it's not really fair to call you a slacker, is it? Jasmine felt that increasingly-familiar stab of guilt. "You like it."

  "Can't beat the hours. And I get to play with free stuff. Watch it," he told her, as a man in a wheelchair swerved to avoid her.

  "I envy you," she confessed.

  She tried to refocus on her environs. The park was filling up now, they were nearing the end of the circuit, and soon their conversation would be over. And then they'd go back to…what?

  "Envy, Jas?"

  "The hours. Not working for anyone. Just…all of it. I think that's why I cut you down about it. I wish I had that kind of strength." Admitting that made her feel strange. She'd never talked with Matt like this before.

  He was silent.

  "I'd like to quit my job," she said. "I should. Everyone tells me to. Even with the economy the way it is, I think I could find something."

  Still no comment from Matt.

  "But my parents are…hard to resist. And they need me. In their own way."

  Matt slowed to a stop and pointed skyward. "See that tree? The really tall one? There's an eagle's nest up there. It's hard to see it even now in the winter. This is where I see them hunting in the spring." He looked at her musingly. "Something I've always wondered. Did they abuse you?"

  Shock rippled through her. "What did you say?"

  His brows lifted. "It's the obvious question. Otherwise privileged young woman, has everything going for her, flees her home, dates assholes, gets pierced, flirts with tattoos…"

  She shook her head. "No. They're just status-conscious and controlling and they couldn't care less about what I want. I should just quit and sever ties, but I'm too chicken. They're all I have."

  He stood there with her in the middle of the path, looking at her, and Jasmine felt suddenly warm from the top of her head to her toes. Somehow she knew that if they were not in public, Challenge or no Challenge, he would close the distance between them.

  She turned and resumed walking, wrapping her arms around her waist. "I have a question for you," she said, throwing caution to the winds, checking quickly to make sure he was following. "Since we're asking questions. Harrison told me you used to sleep on a floor futon up until recently. That you bought your bed not too long ago, right before we…before."

  She caught his sidelong look. "And?" he prompted.

  "Why did you do that, Matt?"

  She heard the smile in his voice. "Why, for you, Jasmine."

  "Did you think I couldn't hack a shikibuton?" she said hurriedly. "Because I've slept on them before, you know. They're comfortable enough."

  "Who said anything about sleeping?" Now his voice held definite laughter.

  "But you used it with the other wom—" She stopped quickly, but not quickly enough.

  "With the other women I've fucked?"

  Jasmine glanced around nervously.

  "Well, you see, there's something nice about not rolling onto the floor when you're screwing. And of course, I'm constantly asking myself, where, where to lock in the handcuffs? Now, there's always the couch, but it's a narrow spot for all that heaving and sliding around. And let's not forget the bathtub…" Now he had her hand again, not too hard, but firmly, dragging her onto the wide expanse of lawn between the path and the street above, taking her to at least audio privacy.

  "Matt!" she protested, aware she had only herself to blame. She'd known bringing up the subject would put them back on the old semi-adversarial footing.

  "But you wanted to know," he said, squeezing her hands between his. "The answer is yes, Jas. I did use it for screwing. It's hard on the knees and it's old and depressing. What did you use? Have you fucked men in your bed?"

  "No. I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

  His breath was coming faster. "Do you know what I want to do with you right now?"

  As if she were one taut string, his voice stroked, made her quiver.

  "I want to lay you down on the grass and smell the dirt as I pull down your pants and ease my cock into you all the way. I'd have you on the sidewalk if that was the only way. I don't fucking care. It's sex, sweetheart. But I thought you might appreciate something different."

  That's when she recalled the other thing he'd bought for her. Rather than use his "arsenal," he'd bought a new sex toy to use on her that first night.

  As gifts, they were very strange.

  But they were gifts nonetheless.

  "This is…leakage." In the worst way.

  "All we are is leakage, Jas. Harrison's aunt just died."

  The change of subject was dizzying. "What?"

  "He's flying home tomorrow. He'll be gone for over a week."

  "And?"

  "And I want you. Continuously. Whatever day it is. Come stay with me at my place. Let's say to fuck with the Challenge and do it our way."

  Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

  Have Matt without rules. Without protections. Without a safety net.

  Terror.

  His face closed up. "Shit. Never mind."

  "You want —"

  "No. Forget I said anything. Friday, then. Eight to midnight. You and me."

  "But Sara and Harrison won't be doing it."

  "Does it matter? They'll probably start again when
they get back."

  She didn't believe him. The Challenge was toast. The whole thing was toast, she thought bleakly. No way back to the way it used to be, and no way to go forward.

  "Oh, hell. Come on." He pulled her along, leaving the park, heading up to the sidewalk. They walked in silence, hand in hand, all the way back to the apartment building. And then he wouldn't let her go into her own apartment, basically yanking her into his place and straight into his bedroom.

  Her eyes popped. "What do you think you're doing?"

  "Not what you're thinking." He sat down at his desk and started using the keyboard and mouse. A few minutes later, he stood up and pushed her down on the chair. "Read it."

  Jasmine turned her gaze to the screen, aware of his hands still on her shoulders.

  From: Matt Berne

  To: Harrison Thomasson; Sara Brogan

  Subject: Modifications to the Challenge

  Harrison and Sara,

  Let this serve as an official request for a change in the rules of the Challenge. Henceforth, the schedule will become you (Harrison with Sara) and us (Matt with Jasmine) every Friday, 8:00 pm to midnight, indefinitely.

  Now kindly send a reply and confirm that the changes to the Challenge go into effect now and you will resume these arrangements on your own behalf the Friday after you (Harrison) get back into town.

  Women fucking make me crazy.

  -Matt

  "You can't send this!" Jasmine shrieked.

  "Why not? It's pretty clear, I think."

  "But we haven't discussed any of it."

  "Knock yourself out, sweetheart. Discuss."

  "With them, I mean. I think Sara's working till noon today, and who knows where Harrison goes after swimming on Saturdays, plus he's probably getting ready for his trip, so we'll have to wait until later this evening to even talk."

  "Why bother? What problem could they possibly have with the arrangement?"

  "I don't know. Maybe they'll want to just stop the whole thing, call it quits."

  "Uh-huh. No." He grasped the mouse and sent off the email.

  Her heart pounded. She stared at the screen as if a snake had appeared within it and was trying to emerge in 3D into the room.

  It took fifteen minutes for a new message to appear, during which time Jasmine paced throughout the apartment and Matt guzzled down two glasses of water and watched her pace. When the reply arrived, she leaned over Matt's desk to read it.

  From: Sara Brogan

  To: Matt Berne; Harrison Thomasson

  CC: JasmineFrazier

  Matt,

  Confirmed. Brilliant plan. I'm sure Harrison will agree, right, Harrison??

  See you guys after work,

  Sara

  P.S. Copying Jas for her records

  "We still have to hear back from Harrison," Jasmine said faintly.

  When he didn't respond, she looked around—and froze. The fact that they were outside of Challenge time didn't matter; she was alone with him in his room, and less than 24 hours ago, he'd been inside her. His face was masked in that way she was beginning to learn was its own kind of unmasking.

  "You'd better go," he said. "Now."

  She straightened hastily.

  "Will you tell me when Harrison gets—"

  "Yes. Go."

  The temptation to stay and see how long it took him to lose control was phenomenal. But she had a feeling it wouldn't be pretty. And it was a weak, cowardly way to get what she wanted.

  She lifted her chin and left his apartment with as much dignity as she could muster.

  Back at her place, she knew it would be foolhardy to remain at loose ends all day, waiting to hear from Matt. So she headed for the office.

  One thing led to another, and she found she'd worked through dinner. She debated between calling Matt, checking her personal email at work, and going straight to his place.

  She chose checking her email. There were two new messages waiting for her.

  From: Harrison Thomasson

  To: Matt Berne; JasmineFrazier

  CC: Sara Brogan

  Matt and Jasmine,

  I have been informed that I am to confirm the changes to the Challenge before I leave. I am now doing so. The new terms are acceptable.

  -Harrison Thomasson

  Department of History

  University of Washington

  From: Matt Berne

  To: JasmineFrazier

  Subject: You

  Where the hell are you? Is this enough for you? Challenge Friday?

  -M

  Jasmine hesitated before replying. She'd never actually exchanged emails or texts with Matt before. It struck her as risky to even open that door. She should just call him. But she was not prepared to hear his voice. So she sent a terse response.

  From: JasmineFrazier

  To: Matt Berne

  I'm at work. Yes. Yes.

  -Jasmine

  Jasmine Frazier

  Assistant Director of Operations

  Frazier Air Systems, Inc.

  She was about to log off when a new email flashed. From Matt. She stared at it with trepidation.

  From: Matt Berne

  To: JasmineFrazier

  You don't text—right? Do you check your email at home?

  -M

  Jasmine sat down again slowly. The door had been opened.

  I text but I hate it, too quick. I sometimes check my email at home. Why?

  It was less than a minute later that she received:

  Email me when you get home.

  That was it. Typically cryptic. Damn him. She didn't want to get an email from him. It was almost guaranteed to drive her insane.

  She almost knocked on Matt's door after coming up the stairs. Wisdom ruled and she went into her apartment.

  Sara was in the living room napping on the sofa with Pencil. Jasmine tiptoed around her, but her roommate murmured something and moved.

  "Sh," Jasmine whispered, then hesitated. Sara looked wiped out. It wasn't like she had to work the next day, but she should probably be in bed if she were that tired. And the apartment was cold. The furnace was acting up again.

  She considered fetching Harrison. If he were available, he could carry Sara into her bed. And it wasn't like he hadn't been there before…

  Damn. Now she was having leakage on behalf of her roommate.

  Shaking her head, Jasmine went into Sara's room, retrieved her comforter, got an extra blanket from the linen closet, and draped both over her roommate and Pencil, who scrambled out until he was on top of the covers.

  After a hot shower, Jasmine got into her warmest thermal underwear. She sat on the bed and removed her slim laptop from her briefcase. Besides her phone she only had the one computer, used for both personal and work purposes.

  She sent Matt a quick email, saying only, "I'm home."

  It was almost half an hour before she got a response. She hated herself for checking often.

  Jasmine,

  Why haven't we used email before? It's perfect for us.

  One day I'll make you a miniature house. When I was a kid, I was into trains and model ships. Never tried a house before.

  Six days until I have you naked again.

  Don't tell me about leakage.

  -M

  A sting in her lower lip made Jasmine aware of biting it. What did he want? To chat?

  Her fingers trembled as she typed her response.

  I mostly use email for work.

  I had three dollhouses growing up. The last one my parents commissioned and took up half my room. Why would you want to make me one?

  -Jasmine

  She clicked "send." Less than a minute later, she got:

  For the same reason I want to kiss your pussy. To pleasure you.

  -M

  Matt,

  How secure is email?

  -Jasmine

  Jas,

  Not very. Why?

  -M

  Matt,

  You're an ass.
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  -Jasmine

  Jasmine,

  Be happy I'm not kicking down your door. Some benevolent advice for you…if you see me before Friday, anywhere—the park, here—just run.

  To return to topic…nothing grandiose. Have you ever seen a shoin-zukuri house? Those were fancy, beyond my skill. No, I'm thinking of a small traditional house. Tatami floors, shoji. Delicate. Jasmine-friendly.

  -M

  Matt,

  Have you ever actually been to Japan?

  -Jasmine

  In my dreams. Your mom's folks are from Hyogo Prefecture right?

  -M

  Yes. Maybe we should switch to texting after all.

  -Jasmine

  No. Nice not to have a character limit. What are you wearing?

  -M

  He slipped in the question so smoothly, Jasmine had typed out and sent an answer before she realized where it might lead.

  Two layers of thick thermals. Socks. Mittens. Our furnace is out again.

  -Jasmine

  Her instincts were right. His next email came swiftly, like an ambush.

  Will you do me a huge favor? Will you reach under your top and squeeze your right breast so that your nipple rubs against the cloth? Pretty please?

  -M

  Pervert.

  -Jasmine

  Yes, sweetheart.

  -M

  No, I won't do it.

  -Jasmine