Leakage: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance

by Harley, Karen

  Sara's eyes were like saucers. Her freckles stood out very prominently on her face. Harrison leaned forward, reached across the table and took the trembling cup out of her hand.

  "She's also my good friend, I guess my best friend, and even when you've burned your bridges and made love to someone like that, it's kind of hard to stay on course. You still think there's the possibility of screwing things up and losing everything."

  Harrison didn't know whether to be flattered or offended that Sara was still staring at him dumbly. As proposals went, this one sucked, both timing-wise and delivery-wise. He resented being pushed into it by her, by the stupid game, and by his own clumsiness.

  "And I love you," he added.

  Sara's chair toppled over and the dog squealed. And then she was throwing herself on his lap and he had to hook his ankle around the leg of the table to keep his own seat from falling backward.

  "Don't tell me you're shocked by that," he said, when their lips came apart.

  "I'm not shocked that you love me," she said, grinning down at him. "I'm just shocked you know it. You want to get married? Can I be so lucky?"

  "I didn't recognize that it was love at first," he admitted. "I guess because it's outside the normal zones. Friend, girlfriend, and what the hell is it where they intersect? But hit me on the head with something enough times and I do get it. And yes, I do."

  "Harrison, do you know how much I love you?"

  "Yeah, it's kind of hard to miss."

  "What about our lifestyles? You said they were too different." Her face took on a noble, resolved look. "What we should really do is wait on the whole marriage thing and just move in together. See if we get along in a roommate kind of way so you can see if—"

  "Sara, you're not my roommate. I want you in my bed every night and I want to know you're not going to run off with some guy who's convinced you he needs you more than I do. Also I'm rethinking the part about our lifestyles."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. It's ultimately a philosophical question. Are we here to accommodate our work? Or is our work here to accommodate us? If we don't fit into academia, then we find something that fits into us."

  "Well, if that's how you feel about things, why don't you look as thrilled as I feel, Harrison? I'm floating here."

  "Sara, you're the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me," he said soberly. "It's got to be disappointing for you, though. You must have some fantasy of a suitor getting down on his knees and bestowing a ring upon you and all that crap. This is a piss-poor way to propose. I don't even have a ring. I wasn't even going to talk to you about this until the spring. Then Jasmine decided to move out, and now the pressure's on."

  "Pressure, smessure," she dismissed. Her brow furrowed as the wheels spun. "Okay. It's simple. I can hang on without a roommate for a few months. We go file for a marriage license after you graduate. Then we get married and live happily ever after."

  "No. It's like the Challenge. Once I started thinking about it, I wanted it. And once I started thinking about marrying you, I didn't want to wait. So we're going to do it soon. The real problem is my mom. She's been living for this day since Will got married, and she'll want to do the big wedding thing. You're going to have to fight her, because I was raised to be a southern gentleman."

  "You? A gentleman? With the way you talk in bed? Hah!"

  "Speaking of bed, are you feeling better? Do you need to get some sleep, or could we…."

  "Let's get Pencil tucked in."

  Sara pushed Harrison's long, limp arm forcefully toward the other side of the bed so she'd have enough room to spread out her own arms, tried to figure out where her hand would go, then just gave up and cuddled right up to his naked body, holding him like a teddy bear—a very slick, lean, muscular, and warm teddy bear, but still. He didn't stir. Sleeping with him was freaky, unbelievably intimate, even more so than all the things they'd done together. And perfect. Finally, the man had gotten a clue.

  What a strange day, though. Her streaming cold, the furnace, the four of them assembled like that, Harrison calling off the Challenge, and then they all went and had a Challenge night anyway. Only this time there were no rules and the night looked, at least for her and Harrison, to be extending infinitely forward.

  She rolled out of bed, hating to leave the warmth of his body but too jumpy to sleep. The living room lights were still out underneath the door and there was no sound of human occupancy, so she had no idea what the others were up to, or if they were even awake or what time it was. Harrison's tablet was on his bedside table. With a stroke of her finger, she activated the screen.

  It was 12:01 a.m.

  A browser popped up. She tried to glance discreetly away—she really did, because in her mind somebody else's computer, even Harrison's, was taboo unless they granted it to you, no matter how tempting it was or how affianced you happened to be to him.

  Then she caught the sender and the subject line.

  The next thing she knew, she was next to the bed, shaking Harrison, waving his computer in his blinking face. "Wake up!"

  "No," he said sleepily.

  "Up, darling!"

  "What's the emergency?"

  "No emergency, just an email you got that I want to read but it's not my email it's yours so you need to wake up. Come on, Harrison. Up."

  "Read it yourself, you dope," he said and rolled over, closing his eyes again.

  That was all she needed.

  Thirty seconds later, Sara crawled back into bed. Harrison's arm came around her. She put her mouth close to his ear and whispered three words.

  "Your fault," he said and fell back asleep.

  Yup, she thought. My fault.

  Woohoo!

  LAST FRIDAY—JASMINE AND MATT—PERIL

  Jasmine waited.

  Matt was lying on his bed, bizarrely passive with his eyes shut, unshaven, his hair mussed, his eyes shadowed, emanating a faint aroma of whiskey. Aside from being pretty sure he felt dismal, she had no idea what he was thinking. She'd just told him she wanted him, had always wanted him, and begged him not to send her away. Even though the Challenge was over and he'd told her to get lost.

  She must either be a fool or very hopeful.

  He'd already made it clear he was done with her. He'd seemed so bitter last time, lashing out, but Jasmine doubted she was the ultimate reason—she couldn't be that significant to his life. Whatever it was, he was right, though; it was all over.

  So she'd finally done it. Cut ties with her parents. Quit the apartment. Quit her job, prepared to run.

  And something strange had happened. It was the worst outcome possible. She'd disappointed her friends, her parents. Matt hated her. Jasmine was bereft and desolate and should have been at her most hopeless.

  But she wasn't. And she knew why when she saw him standing outside her apartment a few minutes ago. Matt looked bleak and alone. Maybe she was fooling herself to think she had the power to make it better, that anything good could come of keeping him in her life. But loving him these last few weeks had given her the courage to try.

  The fear was still there, but it was no longer paralyzing. She'd done it—accepted the Challenge, taken his hand, and let him lead her into the unknown.

  So she could do this.

  Maybe.

  "Well?" Her gut knotted with apprehension. Would he send her away?

  Rubbing his eyes, he seemed to come out of a trance. He sat up, sliding back to the headboard, his jean-clad legs doubled over. "What are you asking, Jasmine? You want to stay with me and get screwed?"

  Not a great start, but not the absolute worst, either.

  She ignored his provocation. "Matt, do you remember what you said a while back? You said, 'To hell with the Challenge, let's do it our way.' I was too scared to take the risk then. Now I guess…I just want to be with you. Even without the Challenge."

  And I'm praying you want that too. Because if not, I've just sunk my ship.

  If only she could read his reacti
ons better. In the last five weeks, she'd learned more about him than in the entire two years she'd known him, but she still didn't know what it meant when he regarded her like that. He could be angry, amused, anything.

  "To be with me," he repeated. "Right."

  Angry, she thought. When he went silky-voice, he was angry. Or defensive.

  "You do know what it means when people say that?" he said gently. "They're talking about commitment. Love. Is that what you're asking for?"

  Commitment. Love. Hearing those words coming from his mouth made her uneasy.

  She shook her head hurriedly. "Not that. That would be…" She looked wildly around. That would be a pipe dream. "No labels. I just want what we had, but without time limits. Do we have to say what it is right now?"

  She felt the heat of his body before her eyes registered him inches away. He'd moved fast and now he was right there, his body still advancing, crowding her back to the wall.

  Her face was coddled in his palms. "I think we do. You're in my bedroom asking to be fucked and you don't want love and you don't want long-term. You say I'm not like the rest. I want to know exactly what you're offering. Because if it's the same as last week, that won't cut it."

  Jasmine flinched. "You're talking about after the run, when I acted like a crazy woman all over you. I apologized for that. I won't do it again."

  "No, not when you ate my cock on a run high. This is about scratching your itch." He stepped back from her, tilting his head and looking at her as though he'd never seen her before. "You know what's strange, Jas? With all my fantasies of how it would happen, it never occurred to me you'd be sexually unawakened. But I guess that's how it was. Something made you hot for—what—the forbidden? So you said sure, let's screw on Fridays, why not? He's hot, he's a slut anyway. A chance to indulge your own fantasies."

  "Matt—"

  "No, I get it now. You're discovering pleasure. Good for you. It's just that I was stupid; it took me a while to see that's all you were offering. I thought it was more. The thing is, I can get screwing from anybody, anytime."

  His interpretation left Jasmine dumbfounded. The disturbing thing was, what he was saying wasn't so far from the truth, but it was all wrong. He'd made it sound like she was playing with him, while he'd been serious.

  Which was ridiculous. Matt, serious? From the beginning of the Challenge? Her heart began to pound with hope and the familiar fear.

  "So what is it now? Just want to kick it around again? Or maybe you're hoping I'll teach you the ropes so you can start applying what you know with other guys."

  "You can't think I'm just amusing myself," she protested. "I don't want lessons. That's what the Challenge was supposed to be about, but it was never that for me. Maybe for you."

  "Not me," he said easily. "I never agreed to 'no leakage.' I always wanted you. The Challenge was a chance to get you, Jas, to have you and keep you. So what was it for you?"

  Have me? Keep me?

  My God.

  "You wanted to…keep me, Matt?"

  His face didn't soften one bit, but she saw him swallow. "That's right. What was it for you?"

  The terror that lurked in Jasmine, mostly hidden, to wake up whenever the threat hovered, returned full force.

  The stark truth was there. Matt wanted to be with her long-term. Keep her. Whatever that meant. Or he had wanted that, before.

  Terror and hope, both.

  You want me to believe you'll keep me. How do you expect me to trust that?

  "What was it, Jasmine?" he persisted.

  "M-more personal," she said falteringly.

  "Personal. Let's have an example of personal."

  "I don't know. I…you're not like some stranger. I thought we could try to…we could see if…."

  She couldn't finish. She felt like he'd handed her a pop quiz designed to test her newly-founded risk-taking abilities and she was on a course to fail.

  "If we could replace our friendship with a relationship?" he said softly. "Something real instead of dancing around like duelists?"

  "No," she said in panic. "God, no. I suck at relationships, and so do you, Matt."

  She heard his indrawn breath and looked quickly at him.

  "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. I suck at them. So no relationship. Let's see, let me guess. You want the exhilaration. The danger. The thrill of seeing how utterly you captivate a guy who can't say no to you. Sound about right?"

  "I guess …I don't know." It was the coward's answer. An evasion almost as bad as last week's lie. Saying she didn't love him, pretending she only wanted sex.

  So tell him now. Trust him. He's Matt. He won't lie. He won't use you. Maybe he won't even leave you. Or cheat on you. Or file away the fact that you love him and use it as leverage in future encounters.

  Yeah, right. If only. In a fictional world.

  In the real world, that's just what happened when you loved somebody. It had defined her childhood. Kept her from letting herself be vulnerable in every relationship since.

  Jasmine knew how to keep her feelings to herself, to fight longing. Fight need, when nobody knew about it.

  From day one, Matt had tempted her to share it all with him.

  But every time she came close, she couldn't.

  She was a fool to think she could do this. Without the hindrances of job or home, with her future up in the air, it had seemed so safe to humble her pride and confess she wanted their relationship to change, thinking she had nothing left to lose.

  But actually, she did. She had her independence. If she let Matt see how vulnerable she was and he didn't love her back the way she needed him to, it could break her. She'd be mad to risk that.

  Except she'd be mad not to take the chance, too.

  Indecision paralyzed her.

  He smiled. "Right. So it's the rush, the charge. That must feel fantastic, Jas. It's me, after all. I'll give you whatever you want no matter what. You can't lose."

  "I can't?"

  He lifted a finger and trailed it down her cheek. "Oh, there's no Challenge to protect you now. But you're still safe."

  "H-how so?"

  "If I take you, you keep the reins. Total freedom to be pleasured by someone who'll do anything to make you happy without any commitment on your part."

  His finger traced her lips slowly, around and around. "That's got to be a thrill."

  "I'm not like that."

  "Whatever you say. You are so beautiful." He smoothed her hair behind her ear and fingered her earlobe, sending shock waves through her body. "Jas, do you remember seeing the lions and gorillas at the zoo when you were a kid?"

  "What? Yes, of course."

  "You know how there's always that one kid that has to throw something or yell out just to see what will happen?"

  "Yes."

  "Then you know what the grown-ups always say. They say, 'Little Jasmine, don't taunt the animals when they're not chained up. It'll just—get—you eaten.' Open your mouth. I want your tongue."

  She obeyed without thinking.

  He took her mouth. It wasn't a kiss, it was a demonstration, and when it was over she was gasping.

  "Now your tit. Give it to me."

  Oh, no. "Matt, hold on."

  "Hey, but you did say you wanted to be with me, right? And I think we've finally sussed what you want out of it."

  She opened her mouth, but no reply came.

  "Yeah. So now the question is, what do I get? More than a screw, I hope. I can get a screw any day of the week. What else have you got for me?"

  "What do you want?" she said desperately.

  "For now I want your tit. Just that one." He pinched the nipple through her silk blouse. "Give it over. The other one stays covered."

  That boded ill, somehow. "This is what you want, Matt?"

  "Why not? I like control, you like a thrill, so I think we can make a bargain. You do everything I say and I'll give you a good time. I'll make sure we both get off, that it lasts a long time and feels awesome, and in the mornin
g you can get your ass gone and I can have a day and maybe we'll hook up later. Or not."

  The hope that had been budding in her shattered.

  He's lashing out again. Being sarcastic

  So tell him how you feel. Stop this now.

  Oh, yeah. She could just see it.

  Matt, I act like a cold bitch sometimes, but guess what? I'm a noodle. Truth is, I'll do anything for you. I love you. All right, you can crush me now.

  Jasmine, Jasmine. You're kidding, right? What the hell do you know about love, with your history?

  Jasmine glanced at the bedroom door. Matt followed her gaze. "Second thoughts? Go ahead, sweetheart. The living room's calling you. You don't have to do this."

  Tears sprung in her eyes. She turned her head to the side.

  Matt's fingers grasped her jaw, rotated it back. He studied her, touched her wet cheek.

  "Think about it," he said. "We've known each other a long time, Jas. I'll fuck you if that's what you want. But not like before. That was me being stupid. I can't afford to be stupid anymore. It hurts too fucking much. If you want me now, you're getting screwed. Feel free to turn around and walk away if you can't live with that. You know where the couch is."

  But I don't want to be screwed. I want to love you and be loved like in the movies. Since that's impossible for me, I want the way it was before.

  "You're telling me," she began. Took essential air into her lungs. "You're telling me my only choice is to become one of your lays or go."

  He let go of her. "No, Jasmine. You're telling me that. These are your terms."

  "What are you talking about? They're not. I don't want to be treated like crap."

  "Sure they are. Great sex, sweetheart. Right? That's why you accepted the Challenge. That's why you let me lick your pussy. That's why you're here now. You don't care if I need you. You don't need me. What do we matter to each other? We've got a convenient friendship. The great thing is to use each other."

  She stared at him, impotent. He seemed to be egging her on to say it, to reveal that she was vulnerable to him.