Weekend Fling

by Claire Kingsley

  I kick off my shoes and strip off my dress, leaving it to lie on the floor. I don’t give a shit about the mess. I flop into bed and bury myself in the covers.

  The tears come, and my body shakes with sobs. Why did I let myself get to this point? How did I fall so hard for him? It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t believe in love at first sight, or soulmates, or any of that bullshit. I’ve always looked at relationships from a practical standpoint. Two people are attracted to each other, they date for a while to find out if they’re compatible, and if the right factors line up, they get married. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?

  But I had to go and fall for a guy who is completely wrong for me. He lives far away. He’s spontaneous and unorganized. He doesn’t want to plan what he’s having for dinner, let alone put any thought into his future. How could I possibly be with someone like that?

  I bury my face in the damp pillow and cry. No matter how many reasons I give myself why Finn is a bad idea, it doesn’t take away the ache. It hurts, deep in my bones. I have to walk away from him. I have to tell him goodbye.

  And I’ll probably never have anything like this again.

  24

  Finn

  The bartender slides my drink across the bar and I take a sip. I told him the mixture I want—my shitty day special—and he got it almost perfect. It burns going down, but it’s a pleasant feeling. The warmth spreads through my gut and I take another sip. If I’ve ever needed this goddamn drink, it’s tonight.

  What the hell happened out there? One minute, I have a beautiful woman in my arms, slow dancing with her to some song I don’t know, and I’m thinking about how great it’s going to be to get her upstairs and run my tongue along every inch of her body. The next, she’s running away from me, saying she can’t keep doing this—whatever this means—because she’s in love with me and I don’t want to get married.

  My head is spinning so fast, I’m not even sure what’s going on at this point.

  First of all, she’s worrying about marriage? Now? It’s been nine days. Nine fucking days. And of those nine days, we’ve spent, what, less than five of them actually together? Who worries about marriage on day five, or even on day nine? I know she’s a planner, but this takes planning to a whole new level. What was she like with her ex? Did she interview him before they started dating to make sure their future plans had the possibility of aligning?

  Shit, she probably did.

  Second of all, love? She’s falling in love with me? Nine days, sprinkles. Nine. She can’t be falling in love with me. I’m an impulsive guy sometimes, but that’s too fast even for me.

  Isn’t it?

  I down the rest of my drink because there’s a part of me that is starting to wonder if maybe I’m fall—

  No, I can’t think that. And it doesn’t matter anyway, because Juliet made it abundantly clear what she needs from me. She needs me to give her something I simply can’t. I know she isn’t asking me to promise to marry her. But she is asking me to tell her that I’d consider it in the future. Can I give her that? Can I look her in the eyes and tell her I’d change my mind for her?

  I honestly don’t know.

  I was so certain about my feelings against marriage. So fucking certain. It all made so much sense. Nothing lasts forever, so why lie to someone you care about and tell them forever exists for them? How many marriages do I know of that went the distance? A couple of my aunts and uncles are still married, I guess. But several of them are divorced, like my mom. I have cousins who are married, and a couple of those marriages have already ended. Some of my friends are married, and who knows how that will work out for them. They seem happy enough now, but how do they know they’ll still be right for each other in twenty, thirty, forty years? You can’t know that.

  Can you?

  How did this get so fucking complicated?

  I nurse my drink for a long time, sitting by myself in the hotel bar. So far I’ve been lucky and no nosy family members have wandered in, insisting I talk to them. I need to go up to the room at some point. I suppose I could see if the hotel has another one and book it for the night so Juliet has her space. But the thought of doing that makes me sick to my stomach. I imagine lying in bed without her, wondering what she’s doing. Wondering if she’s okay.

  Worst case scenario, I’ll sleep on the floor, because there’s no way I can stay away from her.

  She was so upset when she left. Is she up there crying? Did she pack her things so we can leave first thing in the morning? Does she want to get away from me?

  I thought about following her when she left, but I didn’t think I’d be able to comfort her. Whether she’s being crazy about this possibility of marriage thing or not, like I told her, I can’t lie to her. I can’t tell her I’ll change if I don’t know that to be true. That wouldn’t be fair to either of us.

  Eventually, I pay the bartender and head upstairs. I hope Juliet is asleep at this point. I’m not sure what else to say to her.

  I open the door as quietly as I can so I don’t wake her. The room is dark and she’s just a bump beneath the covers. I think she even has her head covered. I take off my suit, draping it over a chair. Juliet’s dress is in a heap on the floor. I pick it up, turn it right side out, and hang it in the closet for her.

  The bed’s a king size, and Juliet is scrunched all the way over to the edge. I get under the covers, and resolve not to go near her. I won’t touch her. I want to—being near her again is making every nerve in my body flare with the desire to have her in my arms. But I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t.

  I lie on my back for a while, straining to hear the sound of her breathing. Is she awake? She hasn’t moved since I got in bed. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to resist the temptation to get closer to her.

  But she was so upset. So sad. I want to make her feel better, and I’m powerless against her pull.

  My heart starts to beat faster as I turn toward her. I scoot nearer and she still doesn’t move. I don’t think she’s sleeping. She’s too silent. Too stiff.

  She’s on her side, facing away from me. I get close and touch her shoulder, then run my hand down her upper arm. She gasps. I brush her hair out of the way and put my lips on the back of her neck. Her body trembles and I slide my hand around her rib cage. I pull her into me and kiss her neck again.

  For a while, I just hold her, breathing her in. She’s not quite relaxing against me, but she’s not pulling away either. I move her closer, fitting her body into mine. My cock swells against her ass, and I know she can feel it. I keep my arm tight around her, my hand just below her breasts. Maybe this is all I get. Maybe this is the last thing I get.

  I kiss her neck and shoulder, my lips whispering against her skin. She shifts her hips and it sends a jolt of sensation through me.

  Juliet turns and her lips come to mine. I roll her so she’s beneath me as I kiss her softly. She runs her hands down my back and tugs at the waistband of my underwear. There’s an urgency to her movements, but I resist, trying to slow her down. I put my fingers through her hair and concentrate on her mouth, caressing her tongue with mine.

  Her body relaxes and I take my time, savoring the way she feels beneath me. I kiss down her jaw, to her neck. My hand slides beneath her shirt and I cup her breast, feeling her nipple harden against my palm.

  I help her pull off her shirt, and sit back so we can both slide off our underwear. I get back on top of her, my mouth hungry for hers. Her skin against mine is silky smooth, her body so warm and soft.

  My cock rubs against her. I need to stop and get a condom, but she feels so good. I slide in, just the tip, and she gasps. Oh, god, she’s so wet. Maybe I could, just a little…

  “Go ahead,” she whispers. “I’m on the pill.”

  A voice in the back of my head says I still shouldn’t. We haven’t known each other very long. Having sex without a condom with a woman I’ve known for less than two weeks isn’t smart.

  But she feels too f
ucking good for me to care.

  I push my cock inside her slowly. The folds of her pussy wrap around me, sheathing me in her wet heat. There’s nothing like this—the feel of her body with no barrier between us. I need to be careful, or I’m going to come in her way too quickly. She’s unreal.

  When I’m in to the hilt, I hold there, reveling in the feel of her. Her hands slide up and down my back and I kiss her mouth. I start to move, in and out, gentle at first. Slow. Her body moves with me, her hips tilting up. She threads her fingers through my hair.

  This isn’t fucking her. I’m not caught up in nothing but lust. I’m making love to her. I touch her, kiss her, caress her. I’m as close to her as I can possibly get, and I’m filled with more than the physical pleasure of being inside her. My senses are consumed. I smell her, taste her, hear her, feel her body. I don’t want this to end.

  I try to go slow and savor her, but she’s so wet. I feel her pussy heating up around me and I can’t hold back. She clutches onto me as I pick up the pace, thrusting into her harder. I groan into her neck, letting my hunger for her take over. Her moans spur me on. I grab her thigh and move it up so I can plunge in deeper. She leans her head back and puts her arms above her head. She’s completely mine.

  I bring her to the brink, until I feel her pussy start to clench. Oh, fuck, she feels so good. The pressure builds. I thrust harder and she cries out. She starts to come and I bury my cock in her while she moves her hips to grind against me. Just as she starts to slow down, I pull out and plunge in again. That’s all it takes. I come in her so hard, I can’t see straight. My body stiffens, the pulses of my climax crashing through me.

  She holds me tight against her while we both catch our breath. I stay inside her for a long moment, not ready to pull out. My head swims and my chest is tight with emotion.

  I don’t want to let her go.

  Eventually, I move off her, and she gets up. She comes back from the bathroom and I pull her against me. I breathe in her scent and hold her close. I don’t know what happens tomorrow. I don’t know if we can find a way to navigate what’s happening between us. For now, I revel in having her close, in the warm relaxation that overtakes me.

  We’ll face what comes next tomorrow.

  I blink my eyes open, coming awake slowly. Juliet isn’t in bed. The room is quiet, and I sit up, looking around for her. The door to the bathroom is open, the light off. She’s not in the room.

  I throw off the covers and jump out of bed. Her clothes aren’t in the closet. I open the dresser drawers, and look in the bathroom. Her things aren’t here.

  She’s gone.

  25

  Juliet

  The Uber driver lets me out at my house. I sneaked out of the room early this morning, before Finn woke up. I feel bad for leaving the way I did. That probably wasn’t a very grown-up thing to do. But I couldn’t stand the thought of having to say goodbye.

  Number of times I almost asked the driver to turn around and take me back: seventeen.

  When Finn came back to the room last night, I tried to pretend I was asleep. At first, I thought he would just lie there and leave me alone. Part of me hoped he would.

  A bigger part of me was relieved when he didn’t.

  His hands on me felt so good, although when he pulled me close, I almost told him to stop. But I didn’t really want him to. Maybe it was stupid, but I wanted to be with him one more time.

  And it was everything I could have wanted it to be. He made love to me slowly, tenderly. Almost reverently. Like he knew it was our last time.

  I bite my lip to hold back the tears as I unlock my door and go inside.

  No, I did the right thing. I don’t regret the time I spent with Finn, but I also have to be honest about who I am and what I want. Just like he does. Unfortunately, we’re two people who want different things in life. It never would have worked.

  That’s what I’m telling myself, at least. I’m pretty sure I believe it.

  I unpack my things and settle in on the couch to watch TV, hoping to get my mind off everything. A knock on my door startles me and I almost spill my coffee all over my lap. I’m sure it’s just Madison and Becca. I texted them both when I got home, and they said they’d be over this afternoon.

  But I hesitate for a beat. Is there any chance it’s Finn?

  There’s another knock and I hear Madison’s voice. “Jules?”

  I let out a breath and answer the door. Sure enough, it’s Madison and Becca. That’s good, right? Things with Finn are over, and I need to move on.

  “So, what’s going on?” Becca asks when we all sit down. “How was your weekend?”

  I lean my head back against the cushion. “It was wonderful. And awful.”

  Their faces register surprise.

  “Awful?” Becca asks. “Why?”

  “I don’t even know where to begin,” I say. “We were having a good time. It was a little overwhelming to be at a family wedding with him, but just being with him made it worth it. Until he told me he never wants to get married.”

  “What are you talking about?” Madison asks.

  “It turns out, he was engaged last year,” I say. “He was supposed to get married at that resort, and when he told me about what happened, he told me he never wants to get married.”

  “So…” Madison says.

  “So, we talked about it and he’s sure he’ll never get married,” I say. “And I told him I couldn’t be with him and I left this morning.”

  “Are you nuts?” Madison asks.

  “Excuse me?”

  “How long had you known Finn when you had this little conversation?” Madison asks.

  “Nine days. Why?”

  “Seriously, Jules, who are you?” she asks. “You jumped ahead in your relationship timeline by about thirty steps here. I’m surprised you don’t have a list of milestones. Actually, you probably do, and I’m positive the marriage talk is not on day nine.”

  “No, I would not normally have the marriage talk on day nine,” I say. “But nothing about this has been normal.”

  “Don’t you think maybe you’re putting a lot of pressure on him?” Becca asks.

  “No,” I say. “It’s not about pressuring him into something now.”

  “It kind of seems like it is,” Becca says.

  I sigh. “I’m not saying we need to plan on getting married. But if he’ll never, ever get married, then I know someday it’s going to end. Why would I stay in a relationship that I know has an expiration date?”

  “Relationship?” Madison asks. “Is that what that was? It seems like you didn’t even get that far.”

  “See, this is why I like order,” I say, my frustration rising. “There’s a proper way things should be done, and if you stick to that, things work out like they should. This? This was a disaster from the beginning. I threw caution to the wind and acted crazy. I jumped in bed with him when I barely knew him, just because I wanted to. I had this stupid fling, and wound up at his cousin’s wedding, meeting his fucking family, in between having multiple orgasms. But we’d been on like one real date; two, if you count the party at his pub. Who does that? This was completely out of order. And look at what happened.”

  “What did happen?” Becca asked. “I’m still confused.”

  “I fell in love with him, that’s what happened,” I say.

  Madison and Becca gape at me. “You’re in love with him?”

  “I know,” I say. “It’s completely stupid and insane.”

  “No wonder you’re acting crazy,” Madison says.

  “I am not acting crazy.”

  “No?” Madison asks. “Did you or did you not basically give a guy you just met an ultimatum about marriage?”

  “I did not give him an ultimatum,” I say. “Were you even listening?”

  “Well, you don’t see it that way, but I can see why he would,” Becca says. “Maybe he feels that way now, and yeah, maybe someday that would be what spells the end. But neither of you kn
ow that for sure.”

  “He’s sure,” I say. “He said he wants to tell me what I want to hear, but he can’t lie to me. That means he knows he won’t ever get married.”

  “Look, I think we know where you’re coming from,” Madison says. “But you’re overthinking this even more than you usually do. And both of you are being unnecessarily stubborn.”

  “How am I being stubborn?”

  Madison raises an eyebrow. “Do we have to review this again?”

  “I don’t know if this is just him being stubborn, though,” I say. “That implies he might get over it.”

  “Well, maybe he will,” Becca says.

  “I just don’t know him well enough to be sure.”

  “That’s the point,” Becca says. “You don’t know him well enough. You haven’t given this nearly enough time to figure out if that no marriage thing is really the end of it, or if he’ll change his mind, or if you’ll even want to marry him.”

  Uh-oh. Becca is starting to make sense. “Okay…”

  “Look, Jules, this all happened to you in such an unexpected way,” Madison says. “Like you said, it’s out of order. You have a lot of big feelings for a guy you don’t know all that well. So why not give it a chance to grow?”

  “You don’t have to completely give up the way you like to do things,” Becca says. “Maybe you guys just decide to date and see what happens. Define it as the beginning of a relationship. You’ll go in with eyes wide open, knowing that you might end up wanting different things. But if you’re really in love with him, maybe it’s worth it to spend some time on this and see what happens.”

  “And for God’s sake, stop worrying about engagement rings and wedding venues,” Madison says.

  “I wasn’t thinking about rings and venues.” My lower lip trembles.

  “Aw, come here,” Madison says, putting an arm around me.

  “I really screwed this up, didn’t I?”

  “No,” Becca says. “Of course not, sweetie.”