The front door opened and shut. She was back.
An electric shudder hit his body. Eventually that would stop. When she was gone for good. He hoped.
Almost immediately, a soft knock came on his bedroom door and then it was swinging open and Jasmine entered with a small bag. Dropped it on the floor.
What the fuck?
"I meant the couch," he said, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how long her scent would stay now.
She looked at him. "Sara's with Harrison."
"Probably happily screwing. Good for them. Did you hear me, Jasmine? Living room."
"It's eight o'clock," she said in a stubborn voice.
Oh, that. He turned his head and found her transfixed. Given that he felt like complete crap, he wondered what the hell was so fascinating about him right now. "The Challenge is over."
"Eight o'clock," she said again. "It's become kind of a habit."
"Habits are dangerous." He meant it as a warning.
A warning she ignored. Her voice was low. "Matt, you don't look good."
That's one total shit, one horrible, one complete crap, and one not good.
Nice that the four of them were unanimous about something.
"But you do," he said sincerely. "Never better. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it, Jas. I hope things work out for you."
There was a very long silence.
"I've been thinking about what happened last week," she said finally. "What you told me about your family. About me. And…everything we talked about."
"Last week was a mistake. You should forget it if you can."
"Why?"
Dear fucking God. "Because it's time to move on. Now why don't you toddle off to the living room?"
Her chin lifted. She looked resolute. "I want to be here with you."
She was open and defenseless. Midnight blue silk blouse. Slim black jeans. He could reach out and pull her to him and plunge himself into bliss.
Stupid.
He took in a breath. Time to burn another bridge. The only sacred bridge he had left. "What's wrong, your itch need scratching again, Jas? I'm sure you'll find someone to help you with that."
"Stop that," she said sharply. "I don't want to fight. You're always pushing me to…to put myself out there, so that's what I'm doing. This isn't easy, so can you stop being an asshole for a minute?"
Ah, but sweetheart, it's for your own good. I'm lethal when I'm hurt. Keep your distance and you're safe. "What the hell do you want, Jasmine?"
Her voice was unsteady. "You, Matt. I want you. I always have. I'm losing Sara and I hate that, and I'll miss Harrison, but I can deal with all of it. It's you that I…that I can't deal with missing. I guess I've got nothing to lose anymore. I wasn't, uh, telling the truth before. You're not just a guy like the rest. Please don't send me away again without…I don't know what I'm saying. I guess I just think—I really think—this is our last chance to. I don't know. To be together."
He stopped breathing.
LAST FRIDAY— SARA AND HARRISON
"So," Sara said pointedly when they were alone. "Here we are. In your room. Friday night, eight o'clock. Yessir."
Harrison glanced up from the suitcase he was lugging into the corner of the room. He was a neatnik and Sara was not. Contain her stuff in a tight, secluded space and maybe they'd survive.
"Yep. Here I am with you in your bedroom. Gonna stay the night I guess. And the Challenge is over, done, kaputski."
He contemplated opening the zipper and just unpacking the thing for her. The only thing that stopped him was that in his experience, women had a thing about their clothes being touched. It didn't matter how intimate they'd been; they flew off the handle if he shoved aside their panties in a drawer.
"Sure is strange to be here right now, staying all night. Sure is."
He was going to have to acknowledge her. "Sara, are you trying to tell me something?"
"I guess I'm wondering if you're trying to tell me something." She bounced on his bed. "I mean, we're still friends. We're obviously not enemies. And the Challenge isn't happening, and you invited me and Pencil here, so…."
"Stop beating around the bush. Just come straight out and ask whatever it is that's bugging you."
Her chin wrinkled as she pursed her lips. "Why am I here, Harrison?"
"Because your furnace is malfunctioning?"
"But why am I here? In your bedroom and not at a hotel, like I would have been B.C."
"B.C.?"
"Before Challenge."
It dawned on him. She was asking all the loaded questions his girlfriends asked him.
What are we doing here? What are you thinking right now? Are we in a relationship?
There was never a right answer to those kinds of questions.
Beyond that, with Sara the answer was guaranteed to be complicated. He knew what he wanted, but there were problems he still hadn't figured out how to solve.
"What's wrong? What did I say?" she asked. "Oh, boy—quick, a tissue!"
He went to the desk to tug a tissue out of a box. "Sara, I don't know how to answer your question. If I tell you why I asked you here tonight, we'll probably get into a fight."
"Oh, no." She looked panicked as she blew her nose. "Now you have to tell me."
"How about you tell me why you're here?"
"Because you invited me."
He rolled his eyes. "So now I say I asked you here because I knew you'd say yes. We could go round and round like that and make each other nuts. Admit it, Sara, this is is one of those 'get inside my head' questions, isn't it, designed to drive men to madness?"
"Well, it was, but now I just want to know whatever it is you think will start a fight."
She was a bloodhound. He ran his hand through his hair. "Let's just say I want you with me."
"But why do you want me with you, Harrison?"
"Because I don't want you bothering Matt and Jasmine anymore, for one thing."
"They're so very sad. Did you see? Jasmine looked like she'd shatter if you breathed on her and Matt just looked dead. But I know if they just—"
"No. Don't go there, or I will spank you. I mean it. You can't do anything about it."
"But I was the one who caused the whole mess."
"They got into it of their own free will. They didn't have to agree to the Challenge."
"I guess." Sara's eyes widened. "You know what? I just realized. You didn't have to agree to it, either. Even if you were drunk at the time, you could have backed out at any time."
"I'm well aware of that."
Now she was looking at him all puppy-dog. "So that's it? Matt and Jasmine? I don't buy it. I mean, I can see that's why you got me out of the room, but why here and not a hotel?"
"Hotels aren't always safe."
She snorted and went to grab another facial tissue.
"And because I want to fuck you." He added quickly, "I don't intend to do it, though. You're obviously sick."
"I think there's more." She was undaunted. "I think you wanted me here because of what you said all those other times. You miss me and you want me like an animal and you think you own me." She smiled at him brilliantly.
"Well, there is that." Despite her puffy eyes and the snotty nose rag, all he could think as he looked at her perched on his bed was that he hadn't had her for two weeks. Last weekend had ultimately turned out to be more frustrating than anything. Since then, there were precious few opportunities to see her, including the day he'd arrived back home from Savannah, stopped by her place, and kissed her right in front of Jasmine. Otherwise, only passing encounters. When she wasn't off somewhere doing something, he was trying to get his newly painted office back in order and scheduling meetings with his dissertation supervisor.
Now they were together and there was nothing keeping him from doing whatever he wanted with her. She wasn't about to reject him. For once there was no midnight deadline.
Just him and Sara.
Friends and lovers.
>
Except not exactly that. Friendly lovers, maybe.
Loving friends?
Damn. He knew what they were, and there was no fooling anybody about it. But the timing of everything sucked.
"That's perfect, then," Sara sniffed. "Guess what I brought over? Come on, you're going to love this." She hopped off the bed and over to her suitcase, unzipping the flap and tossing clothes, dog toys, and toiletries everywhere, finally taking out a large white box and bringing it to the bed.
"Sara, could you please put some of that stuff back?"
She didn't seem to hear. "Remember that relationship game I played with Matt?"
"Exposé," he read off the box. "They're kidding. It's not seriously called that."
"No, it's great. It's really easy. You pick two cards. I take one and I have to answer the question or do whatever it says. If you say it's okay, we discard the other card, otherwise I play it too. Then it's your turn. That's it."
"How do you score?"
"You don't."
"How do you win?"
"I don't think you do that either."
"That's not a game. It's worse than solitaire."
"It's better than a game. It's all about discovering each other. Getting to know each other better."
"Are you out of your mind? We know each other fine."
"But do we? How well do you really know your friends?"
"Pretty damn well, actually."
"Oh, really? What was the defining moment of Jasmine's life?"
Harrison was taken aback. Then he sighed. "I don't have a clue. What does that have to do with anything?"
"What about Matt? What's his biggest ambition?"
Harrison thought he might have a handle on that one, given recent events, but it wasn't his business to speculate. He shrugged.
"And me. How did I get Pencil?"
"You rescued him," he said.
"I must have told you that before. Um, am I a night person or a morning person?"
"Morning."
"What's my favorite color?"
"Yellow."
"These must be too easy. What do I want to be when I grow up?"
"A mother and other than that, you don't know yet."
She gaped. "How do you do that? One more try. When did—"
"Oh, for Chrissake. What's your point, Sara?"
"Just that friends don't always know the stuff that matters about each other. Look at all we've learned since we started having sex. I thought you looked at me like a family member, like a sister or daughter or something. I never knew you were a total god of cunnilingus. I'll bet there's still tons of stuff you don't know about me."
He flushed. "You didn't know about your own freckles. Your argument really isn't salient."
"Whatever. Just have a seat and you'll see. Here, shuffle this."
Habit had him checking the time on his mini-tablet before it struck him there was no time limit tonight.
"Pick two cards. But first, can you grab me another tissue?"
With an exaggerated sigh, he rolled his desk chair over to the bed, sat down, thrust the box of tissues at her, and picked the top two from the deck. Sara plucked a card out of his hand and then gave it back to him. "Read it to me," she instructed, blowing her nose.
He read stoically. "What do you do when you're bored?"
Her brow wrinkled as she pondered that. After way too many minutes of this, he lost his patience. "You clip your toenails, Sara."
"Oh, right, thanks. Is it acceptable?"
"What?"
"You have to say if it's acceptable. Otherwise I have to do the other card."
"No, it's not acceptable. You couldn't even answer for yourself."
"So then you read me the other card."
This was the lamest, stupidest game he'd ever heard of. He glanced at the card. "Show your…Jesus."
"What? I didn't hear that."
"It says, show your partner a part of your body you're proud of?"
"Oh. That's an action card. They're either question cards or action cards. Part of my body. Hmm." She turned her head and swept her hair aside with her hand. "Look at that. Isn't it divine? I have perfect earlobes."
He gazed at her. "They're pretty good," he said a bit huskily.
She beamed at him. "Thanks. See what a great game this is?" She picked up two cards. "Well? Pick one."
Having begun to see the potential of the game, Harrison found himself relaxing a bit. He tapped one of the cards in her hand with a finger.
She read, "Which do you prefer for stress relief: Sex, meditation slash hypnosis, or aerobic activity?"
He scoffed, "That's unanswerable. The first and last are subsets of each other."
Her head cocked to the side. "I have no clue what you just said, Harrison. So, unacceptable answer. The other card's better, anyway. Draw a picture of your partner's lips."
Harrison couldn't draw. His sketch made her mouth look deformed, unlike the real thing, which was cupid's bow and adorable and which he gave a quick kiss as he handed her the pencil sketch.
"It's not too bad." She sneezed, then selected blindly from the next two cards.
He frowned. "Do I really have to read the one you picked?"
"Them's the rules," she said. "We could forget them like when Matt and I were playing, but it's not like there's that much game in the first place."
He looked up. "Did you show Matt your earlobes?"
"Nah. We nixed the sexy action cards at the beginning."
"I'm grateful." Reluctantly, he read the card she'd chosen. "How old were you when you lost your virginity?"
"Nineteen." She sighed. "He was a year younger than me. I had all these dreams of carnal delights, but I don't think it occurred to him that girls could get turned on, too."
When he picked his card, Sara laughed. "That is so weird. Yours is practically the same as mine. Describe your first complete sexual experience. I wonder what they mean by complete."
Harrison flushed. "How about I pass?"
"Why? Don't you want to talk about it?"
"I was seventeen. There wasn't much to tell."
"Come on, Harrison." She reached forward to squeeze his hand. "It can't be that bad."
"Oh, no? I could have been the guy who took your virginity," he stated. "I was just like him. Clueless. She was three years older. It was a disaster."
"I think you're supposed to describe it in detail."
"Oh, for—we were in my bedroom. My mom and dad were down the hall and my brothers were next door blasting music. She started giving me a blow job and then she shoved a condom on me and put my dick in her and then my mom knocked on the door and asked if my homework was done and everything pretty much fizzled. Can we stop now?"
She stared at him. "Geez, that was way worse than mine," she said. "Stop now? But it's just starting to get good."
He begged to differ. His gut tensed up as he read her card. "Describe your ideal romantic date from beginning to end."
"Ooh, I know this one." Her face became dreamy. "We win a gift certificate to this spa I know in Queen Anne and we go get a full-body Swedish massage and then a sauna and afterward we get beamed to Crater Lake and we swim around naked and make love in the water, which is okay because nobody's around since it's a holiday and there's, like, no giardia contaminating it. Then we get flown home by small aircraft and make love. Then we order out from that vegetarian Thai restaurant and I get to eat all the spring rolls I want. Then you read me that funny story about the man who meets his lookalike —"
Harrison blinked. "The Double? Dostoyevsky?"
"Yeah, and you just keep talking and talking and your voice is sooooo sexy and I make love to you and then Dean Martin comes on with Sway and we fall asleep."
"Uh, you've clearly given this some thought." And I feature in this ultimate fantasy date?
"Oh, yeah," she said happily.
"That's not exactly the question, though, is it? What's your ideal real date? Instead of pretend."
She looked a little startled. "There's a little coffee shop in Fremont with the most amazing brownies—barely sweet, they just melt on your tongue. We'd take half a dozen home and eat them while we made love, mmm."
This was getting frustrating. "Sara, the question's about a romantic date, not a—a—sexy night of lovemaking."
She scowled a little. "So my answer's unacceptable?"
"What about the parties or art shows or dancing or the theater or —"
She brightened. "That could be fun. One of my coworkers' kids is in a teen production of Arsenic and Old Lace. It's playing at the Bathhouse. I'd so love to see that. Hey, do you want to go next weekend?"
"Sure," he said. "That's not exactly—look, wouldn't you like the whole works? You know, cocktails and then dinner at a four star restaurant and then a concert or romantic walk down the beach or whatever."
"Wow. Yeah. But that kind of thing never works out for me. I work six days a week usually, and Pencil would basically be alone for fourteen hours and he's got just a little bladder. With Jasmine leaving, I don't know who'd walk him. I guess we could ask Matt…."
"Okay, forget the rest. What about dinner?"
"Well, you know I love Thai food—the lunch special comes with rice and noodles. Pho is good, too. And you've tasted my spaghetti."
At this point, Harrison had to take a deep breath. "Sara, what do you do when you go out on a date?"
"I don't know, what everyone does. We just usually hang out. Harrison, I know what you're getting at, but you're such a dodo about that. You gotta get outta that ivory tower mentality. All that culture and stuff is fine, but it's super-expensive and it's not really practical for the most part, you know, except for birthdays."
He stared at her. She didn't look like she was teasing. The very idea of no longer having to adapt to the whole senseless rigmarole around dating had to be too good to be true.
"Anyway, I think we've talked this question to death. Pick." He randomly picked a card and she read it aloud. "Kiss your partner on three separate locations. Must make skin contact." She nibbled her lip. "I guess that means no scalp."
Much better than the question cards. He scooted his chair closer to the bed. "Give me your hand."
In the fist she gave him she held a damp, crumpled tissue.
Leakage: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance Page 22