The Proposal

by Jasmine Guillory

  “Mmmm.” He stared straight in front of him with a hungry look on his face. “That’s even better.” He reached back and pulled her toward him. Well, maybe he tried to pull, but she was so eager for what she knew was coming that she fairly launched herself at him.

  Good Lord. She lay back on her couch pillows, gasping for air. She thought she liked it when he kissed her mouth, that was nothing to what those lips and that tongue—dear God, that tongue—could do to other parts of her body. It felt so good she wanted it to go on forever. She thought there was no way for it to get any better. And then he added his fingers to his lips and his tongue, and she came so hard she saw black spots floating in front of her eyes.

  “Holy shit,” she said as soon as she could talk. And then she did something she’d never done after an orgasm before: she started giggling uncontrollably.

  “What’s so funny?” He sat back up on the couch, and she leaned against him until they were laying down again, her tucked into the curve of his arm.

  “Nothing,” she choked out. “This was just not at all how I expected my day to go. I didn’t even . . .” she tried to catch her breath. “I didn’t even have my good underwear on!”

  He glanced at the clothes littered across the floor, then back at her.

  “Who cares about what kind of underwear you had on when you have that body underneath it?” He ran his hand down her torso, the side of her hip, her thigh. Something inside of her melted.

  “You jackass.”

  “What?” He froze. “What did I say?”

  She shook her head.

  “You can’t say shit like that when my condoms are all so far away in my bedroom. Because now I want you to fuck me right this second.”

  He jumped into a runner’s stance.

  “Where are they? I can run fast. Especially when I’m motivated.”

  “Top drawer of the nightstand. Go.”

  She relaxed back on the couch and laughed as he raced to her bedroom. She could feel the shit-eating grin on her face. Ahhhhh, that butt in motion was fantastic.

  He was back in less than thirty seconds, true to his boasting. He dropped his boxer briefs to the floor and ripped open the condom packet. Thank God enough lights were on in her living room so she could see he really was as big as she’d thought he was. Sometimes touch could be deceiving, especially with layers of clothes in between, but boy was this not one of those times.

  He was back on the couch and on top of her as soon as he’d rolled the condom on. She wrapped one leg around him to bring him in closer, and he groaned in her ear and moved faster. So she did it with the other leg and he bit down on her shoulder.

  He took her hands and moved them to the arm of the couch behind her.

  “Hold on.”

  She obeyed him and was glad she did. She held on for dear life and met him thrust for thrust as he pounded into her, faster and faster, until he finally roared and collapsed against her.

  He lifted himself up a little while later and kissed her cheek.

  “I’m never going to make fun of rosé again if that’s the result.” He stood up and went over to the kitchen to throw out the condom. “Pink wine, man. Who would have thought?”

  She laughed and curled up in the corner of the couch.

  “There’s more in the fridge.” She pulled the blanket that hung on the back of the couch over herself.

  He opened the fridge and took out the bottle.

  “Look, lady. Some of us need a little bit of a break before we have more rosé, okay? Let a man breathe for a minute.”

  Oh, she would let him breathe as long as he wanted if he did it with that grin on his face and that swagger in his walk.

  “I’m just glad I introduced you to the glory that is rosé, that’s all. You take your time. I don’t want to rush you.”

  He topped up both of their glasses and carefully pushed the coffee table back to its normal spot before getting under the blanket with her.

  “You know what would look great on that table?” he asked her, nodding at her coffee table.

  “What?” She stared at the table, trying to figure out what he meant. It was just a chestnut wood coffee table, nothing fancy, but the perfect height for propping her feet up to watch TV. What did he think would look good on it, coasters or coffee table books or something?

  “A large pizza. With everything. That much rosé makes me hungry.”

  She shook her head.

  “Not everything. No blue cheese or olives. Everything other than that.”

  He reached down to the floor for his pants and pulled his phone out of the pocket.

  “I can live with that. Large pizza with almost everything coming up.”

  He called some pizza place she’d never heard of and ordered a monstrosity of a pizza. As soon as he listed the toppings on the phone, her stomach rumbled. Apparently, that much . . . rosé . . . made her hungry, too. Well, that, and she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime.

  * * *

  • • •

  “I’ve never ordered from this place before, but this sausage is great,” she said as she picked up her second piece. Carlos was already on his third.

  “Look,” he said, when his mouth was no longer full. “You don’t know me that well yet, but one thing you should know is I’m very good at ordering food. I know you didn’t trust that this pizza was going to be good. I could see it in your eyes when I ordered. I’m not even going to make you admit that you were wrong, because that’s the kind of guy I am. But that should be the last time you ever doubt me on food matters.”

  She reached for her wineglass to wash down the delicious grease.

  “Noted. Does that mean you’re a good cook, too?”

  He shrugged, but that cocky grin was still on his face.

  “I mean, yes, I’m a fantastic cook, but I try not to brag about it.” His grin widened and she laughed. “I don’t do enough cooking these days, though, what with work and everything else.”

  “How did you learn to cook?” she asked.

  He took another bite of pizza.

  “Originally, from my mom. She taught both me and my sister all of her specialties, and then I taught myself how to cook other stuff. First, when I was a poor student, and then when I realized that cooking was meditative for me, a way to relax and take a break and be alone with my thoughts.”

  He shook his head and was silent for a moment.

  “In med school I used to make huge pots of chili for my roommates, and we would all eat it for a week. My buddy Drew and I met when we were in this fellowship together. It was so stressful and exhausting. We both happened to have the same day off one week, so I invited him over to eat enchiladas and watch the game. We were so tired that we both fell asleep on the couch after we ate and woke up just as the game was ending.” He laughed. “We’ve been friends ever since.”

  She laughed, too. She and her friends had bonded over revenge; he and his friend had bonded over food and a nap. That sounded about right.

  Speaking of sleep . . .

  “Hey, what time is it?” she asked him.

  He checked his phone, on the coffee table along with the now almost empty pizza box and wine.

  “Ten thirty.” He put his wineglass down. “I hadn’t realized it was so late. I’d better be going.”

  “Oh.” She put hers down, too. “Oh, okay. You probably have to get up early, I guess.”

  He stopped halfway through standing up and sat back down.

  “Didn’t you . . .” He paused for a few seconds, shrugged, and continued. “Just to be clear—do you want me to go? Because if you do, it’s no problem, but if not, I’m happy to stay.”

  “No!” She shook her head and put her hand on his knee. “I mean, no, you don’t have to go. Sorry, that must have sounded like a hint, that’s not what I meant. I was just thinking
it was about time we left the couch. We haven’t even made it into my bedroom yet, and we finished the bottle of rosé, so . . .”

  He took her hands and pulled her up off of the couch with him.

  “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Ten

  . . . . . . .

  Nik woke up the next morning significantly later than she usually did. As a writer who worked from home, she generally had to keep herself on a pretty strict schedule or she would get nothing done. She almost always forced herself to keep to that schedule, even though everyone she knew—including Fisher—had made fun of her about how rigid she was about it.

  But when you woke up in the wee hours of the morning because a big, warm, strong man was kissing you awake, and then you spent the next hour doing delicious things with him in your bed before he had to leave to get to work on time, it was only natural that you’d fall back asleep and not wake up until . . . holy shit, it was nine thirty.

  She stretched luxuriously in her big empty bed and smiled at her rumpled sheets. She felt like the queen of the world. She liked this feeling.

  She stumbled into the kitchen, naked and pleasantly sore. She’d forgotten to set up her coffee maker the night before—she had been a little distracted, okay?—so she tossed out yesterday’s coffee filter and turned her coffee grinder on. She hummed as she scooped coffee into the machine, measured out the water, and got her favorite coffee cup down from the cabinet. While the coffee brewed, she went back to her bedroom for her robe. Not that she minded being naked, but she’d left the windows open overnight, and the morning air was chilly.

  Would she see Carlos again? He didn’t seem the type to sleep with her and then disappear, but you never knew with men. She hoped she’d see him again, though. The sex was fantastic, and he made her laugh. That was a pretty rare combination in her experience.

  She sat down on her couch with her coffee and dug into her bag for her phone to check her email. She took one sip and laughed at herself. Check her email, what was she thinking? If she knew her friends, and she did, she would have many text messages to respond to first.

  Sure enough, Courtney had texted her and Dana early this morning.

  Nik, I have your car, let me know if I can come pick you up this afternoon and get it back to you. Also DID YOU BANG CARLOS I AM BETTING THE ANSWER IS YES BUT I NEED TO KNOW IMMEDIATELY.

  Then Dana:

  Wait, what? I thought she was still being all wishy washy about it? What happened? I need details, how did I miss this?

  Courtney filled Dana in, Dana responded with many exclamation points, the two of them had a nice long chat about her long before she was awake.

  Good morning, friends. I’m around anytime today for a car exchange. Also, yes.

  She couldn’t resist teasing them a little.

  She hummed as she checked her email. Okay good, she’d gotten the go-ahead from the studio to do a profile of the up-and-coming black female director, her piece on that school teacher in Fresno who had taken in ten of his students as foster kids was going to run in the Times Sunday magazine in a few weeks, and the editor she hated working with was resigning and moving to New York for a magazine she also hated. What an excellent morning.

  Yes? YES??? We get a hell of a lot more than fucking yes.

  She laughed out loud at Courtney’s text.

  Nik will give us the details as soon as she wants to give us the details.

  Dana was always the nice one.

  However. She had better want to give us the details within the next two minutes, or I’m never going to let her borrow my shoes again.

  Not that nice. She’d better respond.

  I don’t know why Courtney even asked the question, she orchestrated the whole thing! Don’t worry, you’ll get all the details tonight after class. Long story short: it was excellent, you both were right, he left a few hours ago, and I’m exhausted and very smug. I probably won’t get any work done this morning but I don’t care. I have no idea if I’ll ever see him again but it was still worth it. Happy?

  She went to the kitchen for a refill on the coffee and heard numerous texts come in as she poured it.

  From Dana: We have to go through an hour and a half class with you doing your “I Just Had Sex” face before we hear the details? I’m going to kill you.

  From Courtney: Yessssssssssss. I think this is worth skipping class for, don’t you??? Wasn’t one class enough?

  From Dana: No, we have to go, we already paid for the whole six weeks.

  From Courtney: I hate you so much. Can’t we get the dish before class, then?

  From Dana: I’m filming all afternoon and I won’t allow you to hear about this before I do.

  From Courtney: Ugh fine fine, that’s a legit excuse, but still, I’m dying over here. And N: I would bet you’re going to see him again.

  And, right as she read that one, another text jumped onto her screen:

  I hope you got back to sleep this morning after I left. You going out of town for Memorial Day weekend, or are you free Friday night?

  She took another sip of coffee with a big grin on her face and texted her girlfriends.

  Apparently you’d win that bet. See you both tonight. She set her mug down on the coffee table, stood up, and danced in her living room for a full minute before texting Carlos back.

  Friday night works for me!

  Wait, no. Right before she pressed send, she deleted the exclamation point. She was all for being straightforward and not playing games with guys, but he didn’t need to know a text from him literally made her dance.

  She also didn’t need to tell her friends how right they were that a rebound had been exactly what she needed. They would be sure to tell her that themselves.

  When Nik walked into class that night, Courtney and Dana were both already there. And both glaring at her.

  “I texted that I got out of work early and we could meet up before class. Why didn’t you answer?” Dana whispered.

  Oops. She’d put her phone in lockdown mode this afternoon to get work done and had forgotten to take it off. She had gotten a ton of work done, so that was a positive. A negative was that her friends were going to kill her.

  “Sorry, I was working, and my phone was off,” she said. Their expressions did not change. She couldn’t help but laugh, which just made them glare all the more. “Okay, I will tell you one small detail to get you even more excited for the full story: we didn’t even make it out of his car before we started kissing.”

  Dana high-fived her.

  “I’m still mad at you, but also, I’m thrilled at how unlike you that is.”

  Dana was wearing a very cute hot pink sports bra, and that brand of workout leggings that looked amazing on tall, willowy people like her, but terrible on anyone else. Nik looked down at her own old Stanford T-shirt and comfortable yoga pants and sighed. She’d been paranoid for years after moving to L.A. that Dana would decide to ditch her and Courtney for other actress/model types. There was something about being in this city, where looks were so important, that made you doubt everything you’d been confident about, including your friends. Dana had never wavered, though. Now Nik was ashamed that she’d ever doubted her.

  “Hi, class!” Natalie said. They all immediately switched their attention to the front of the room. Today her hair was up in an impossibly high topknot.

  “I’m super excited about our class today! Today you all get to use . . . punching bags!”

  The whole class applauded, even though the punching bags had been already hanging up throughout the room when they walked in, so it was kind of self-evident they were going to use punching bags today.

  Carlos had seemed so surprised and pleased when she’d told him about this class. He was always cracking jokes, so she’d steeled herself for him to make fun of it, but he seemed almost proud of her.

  “Remem
ber, punching bags are pretty big and heavy, so you’re really going to feel it when you punch them. But before we get to the bags, let’s go over the form lessons we learned last week. Did you all practice like I told you to?”

  There was faint applause from the class. Nik had definitely intended to practice. She’d gone home all hyped up and ready for it, and she’d thrown a few punches at imaginary people in her apartment that night. But then, she got sore. And busy. And after a few days of not practicing, the idea of practicing sounded intimidating, and it sounded much easier to not practice, so that’s what she did.

  Dana was clapping with energy, though. Overachiever. She’d probably practiced every day.

  “Not as many as I hoped, but that’s okay. Practicing by yourself can get a little scary, right? Don’t worry, we’ll get you guys over that hump today.” “Stronger” by Britney Spears blared out through the speakers. This woman was magic with the music. “Now, watch me.” She stood in the stance she’d taught them the week before and did a fierce one-two punch at the air. “Remember, that’s a jab. Now you guys do it. Make sure you’re a good distance away from each other, and I’ll walk around the room and check in on you.”

  Nik imitated her and punched the air. OW. All of those hours of athletic sex made turning that way pretty painful. She wouldn’t give up a second of it, though. She grinned, stretched, and punched the air again.

  “Good job, Nik!” Natalie was suddenly behind her. “Remember, elbows in and keep those feet planted, okay? You’ve got some real power behind that punch—keep it up!”

  Why did she usually hate people who spoke like cheerleaders, but somehow when Natalie did it, it actually did inspire her to keep it up? Maybe because it actually seemed sincere coming from her.

  “Excellent, Dana. I can tell how much you’ve been practicing. Keep that thumb secure. Great work!”