Jamie laughed. “Then maybe she’s the crazy one.”
He sat up straighter. “I think so too. So what are you doing later?”
“Oh, lordy.” I pulled my wallet from my bag. “You know what? It feels late, and I get up early. What do I owe you?”
Jamie disappeared to pour Miles’s beer, and he put a hand on my arm. “Hey, I was only kidding about her, Nat. Don’t go.”
“It’s not that. I really do have to go to bed.” I avoided looking at him, because I knew he could probably convince me to stay, and it was too dangerous. He was too tempting. I needed to go have sex with Dan, remind myself that what we had was real, and loving, and good.
It was, wasn’t it?
“OK.” He took his hand off me. “Put your money away. You treated me all day long. This one’s on me.”
“Thanks.” I put my wallet back in my bag and threw it over my shoulder as I stood. Glancing at Jamie, I added, “She’s hot. Looks like you’ll have fun tonight.”
He shrugged. “Eh, she’s no Natalie Nixon.”
My face warmed, and I shook my head. “You are such a flirt.”
“I know. And I love the way it bugs you. Hold on, I’ll walk you out.” He signaled to Jamie he’d be right back and put his credit card on the bar before following me to the exit. Stepping around me, he opened the door and allowed me to pass through first. “Where are you parked?”
“Just down the street.”
He walked next to me, hands in his pockets. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“About what?”
“That I think you’re more beautiful than that bartender.”
I snorted. “No.”
He said nothing more until we reached my car. “Do you remember what I said to you the night before I left for school?”
It was still warm, but a shiver ran through me as I unlocked the door. Don’t do this to me, Miles. Not here in the dark with no one around. You’re confusing me. “No,” I lied. “What was it?”
“You really don’t remember?”
I laughed nervously. “Should I?”
He paused as I opened the door and stood behind it. “No. Never mind. Drive carefully.”
Sliding behind the wheel without hugging him goodnight, I dropped my bag on the passenger seat and gave him a too-bright smile. “I will. Have fun tonight.”
I started the engine and he shut the door, lifting one hand in a wave. Then he stood there as I drove away, looking sadder than he had a right to.
Well, maybe he had a right. What he’d said to me that night, the almost night, was unforgettable.
It was hot, the hottest August we’d had in years. And the heat was mean, the kind that made you feel exhausted all day long but refused to let you sleep at night. I don’t know how long I stood beneath her window, toying with the rocks in my hand, sweating my balls off and arguing with myself. Should I tell her or not?
Yes. She deserves to know.
No. It’s none of your business.
All summer I’d listened to Natalie ramble on about Dan, a thick-chested, empty-headed jerk-off I’d seen making out with another girl in his car at the fucking gas station two weeks ago. And I knew it was him because of his stupid license plate that read DAN 32 for his football number. Why the fuck I didn’t pound on the window and punch that bastard in the face, I have no clue. And I said nothing to Natalie, either, although it made me crazy to keep it from her. But it wasn’t like I was in love with her or anything. What the hell did I know about love? I was eighteen, for fuck’s sake. I loved sex and blowjobs and nachos.
But she mattered to me. And she could do so much better. It killed me to think of the way he’d betrayed her trust. I thought relationships were the worst idea ever, but if you were going to be in one, you should fucking be in it and not dick around. Especially on a girl like Natalie.
Fuck, it’s sweltering. I need to do this or go home.
Impulsively, I tossed the first rock, and then the second. She appeared at the window a moment later and opened it.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Come down.” This was not the kind of conversation you had through a screen.
“OK.” She closed the window and disappeared from view. I loved how she didn’t even question why I wanted to talk to her in the middle of the night. She just said OK and trusted that there was a good reason. This was a good reason, wasn’t it? The truth?
But then she came out of the house and tiptoed across the deck toward me, and my chest got tight. She wore shorts and a little white top that showed off her swimmer’s arms and the tops of her breasts. I’d stared at them a lot this summer when I hoped she wasn’t looking and got myself off daily to the thought of them. Her ass, too. She had the most unbelievable ass you can imagine, and in my wildest jerking-off fantasies she let me come all over it. Sometimes I felt guilty thinking about my friend like that, but not enough to stop.
“Hey,” she said quietly. Even in the dark, I could see the concern on her face.
“Hey.”
“God, this heat.” She reached behind her neck and piled her hair on her head. My dick jumped to life. She had no idea how sexy she was. “So what’s up?” she asked. “You OK?”
For a long moment, I just stared at her. A strange hollow formed in my chest, creating an ache I’d never experienced before and couldn’t name. Or maybe wouldn’t name. But one thing was certain—I couldn’t hurt her. The truth wasn’t a good enough reason.
“Yeah. I just wanted to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye!” She dropped her arms. “But you aren’t leaving until next week.”
“I changed my mind. I’m going in the morning.” Until that moment, I hadn’t planned to leave early at all. But standing here with her, seeing how perfect she was and knowing that she was giving herself away to that asshole was too much to handle. She’d told me sex with him was “beautiful” and “fast” and I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or hurl.
“Why are you leaving so soon?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Just ready to get out of here, I guess.” I glanced toward the driveway. “Saw Dan’s car here earlier. You guys get back together?”
“Yes.”
My hands curled into fists inside my pockets. “Why?”
“What do you mean, ‘why?’ Because we want to be together. We shouldn’t have broken up in the first place. They were only rumors. I was just being jealous and stupid.”
Jesus. She thought it was her fault? How could she be so smart and so stupid at once? “Yeah, I was gonna tell you that.”
Exasperated, she put her hands on my chest and shoved me backward, and I smiled at her feistiness.
“Kidding, kidding. You know I’d never think that about you.”
“No, I don’t.” She stuck her hands on her hips. “You say that stuff to me all the time.”
“That’s only because your reactions are fun. I love making you mad.” That was true, but right now it also felt safe. Her body was looking way too good to me right now, and my shorts were way too tight in the crotch.
“This is what you had to tell me before leaving? How you really feel about me?”
Oh, Jesus. I put my hands back in my pockets and tried to adjust myself. “How I really feel about you. You don’t want to know that.” I’d sort of meant it as a joke, since I was dealing with an uncooperative erection at the moment, but Natalie’s face was serious.
“Yes, I do. Tell me.”
Oh, fuck. What was the right thing to say here? The thing that wouldn’t ruin our friendship forever?
I decided to go with a truth, if not the truth. “I think Dan is the fucking luckiest bastard on this planet, and he better fucking realize what he has and treat you right.”
“That’s what you think about Dan.” Her eyes dared me to answer differently. “What do you think about me?”
Thunder growled above us, and the rain would start any minute. The air was hot and heavy with it.
&nbs
p; Fuck it. I’m just going to be honest.
“I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. I think no one will ever be good enough for you, least of all me, but all I want to do right now is kiss you. Well, that’s not all I want to do. But it’s a start.”
She gasped and went perfectly still. And then the most amazing thing happened. She swayed forward, lifting her lips toward me as if she actually wanted me to do it. My hands clenched and my stomach muscles contracted. God, if it were any other girl, I’d have grabbed her and pulled her down on top of me in the grass already, impending thunderstorm or not. But it wasn’t any other girl—it was Natalie, and I knew she’d regret this. I had to do the right thing.
“But I can’t.” I tore my eyes away from that waiting mouth.
“Huh? I mean, no. You can’t.” Flustered, she backed away from me, her hands knotted in front of her.
Thunder rumbled again; the storm was getting close. “You should get inside,” I told her. The longer we stood out here like this, the less I cared about doing the right thing.
“OK.” But she didn’t go. She threw herself at me, her arms wrapping around my waist, her cheek pressed against my chest. Oh fuck, she feels good. I put my arms around her and held her tight, trying desperately not to think about her breasts crushed against me. This was the closest we’d been physically in years, maybe ever. Did it mean she wanted me that way? Was she really going to cheat on her boyfriend?
A little sob and then another escaped her, giving me the answer.
No, she wasn’t. And it was better this way.
It made goodbye easier, it made our friendship easier, it made my life easier.
“Hey.” I gave her shoulders a little shake. “Enough. You’ll get snot on me.”
She laughed and stepped back, wiping at her nose. “You deserve it for saying that stuff to me.”
“You’re probably right. But you asked how I felt.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.” She sniffed and shook her head, like she couldn’t believe what was happening.
Lightning illuminated her pretty face, making my chest ache again. Had I just fucked up my one and only chance with her?
“Email me, OK?” Her voice was quiet. “Let me know how school is.”
“OK.” I watched her scurry back across the lawn and over the deck as rain began to fall. When she was safely inside the house, I walked back home and sat on the porch a while. Probably I should have gone in and started packing since it was too hot to sleep anyway, but I didn’t. I just sat in an old wooden chair and stared out at the rain, wondering if I was a nice guy or the biggest fucking idiot on the planet.
Damn this heat.
It was making me crazy.
I was only kidding about taking that bartender home. Well, if I hadn’t been there with Natalie, I probably would have done it, but for some reason it felt wrong to go back in the bar where I’d just been sitting with her and try to pick up another woman. Anyway, I didn’t want to be with another woman tonight—I wanted to be with her. Not necessarily in a sexy way; I just wanted to hang out. I’d almost forgotten how fun she was.
Actually, that’s a lie. I wanted sexy too.
Fuck, why did she still have to be with that shithead Dan? I bet he was still cheating on her. Guys like that who fool around and lie about it don’t change. That’s not to say I’m an angel or anything, but I don’t lie to women, unless it’s a white lie to boost her ego like fuck yeah, you’re the best ever, don’t stop when my dick is in her mouth, or to spare her feelings, like of course those pants still fit you when she’s trying to wear her 8th grade jeans. I always make sure, when it comes to sex, that it’s perfectly understood I like to have a good time and hope they do too. If a woman is seeking commitment, I make it clear I am not the Friday night fuck she’s looking for, and she should mosey on down to the other end of the bar. Lucky for me, though, there are always plenty of hot girls who just want to have fun.
And it’s not because I’m super ripped (I’m not) or have a twelve inch penis (alas) or make a million dollars a year (not even close). It’s because I’m good to them. I treat the women I’m with like goddesses. I make sure they have at least one orgasm, I always give a warning during a blowjob, I never complain about wearing a condom, and I encourage them to tell me exactly what they want in bed. Then I do it.
Also, my face. I’m kind of adorable.
But you don’t need an adorable face to make a girl scream your name. Guys are always writing me asking how to make a woman come, and every time, I say it boils down to this: Slow down. Pay attention. Give a fuck. And even though I’ve told them all my best clit-sucking, finger-fucking, and pelvic-grinding techniques (NO JACKHAMMERING), I also tell them you have to ask her what she likes, and you have to listen both to what she says, and what she doesn’t say. Because even if she’s too shy to tell you with words, a woman will let you know with her body what she wants.
As I walked back to the bar, I wondered what Natalie would be like in bed. The thought was enough to make me stumble a little on the sidewalk. I’d thought about it a thousand times before, maybe even closer to a million, but I was usually alone in the shower with my dick in my hand. Every now and then I fantasized a woman I was fucking was Natalie, which is kind of shitty, I guess, but it doesn’t hurt the woman any, and for all I know she’s imagining it’s Ryan Gosling banging her. Doesn’t bother me.
Back at the bar, I finished my beer and flirted half-heartedly with Jamie a little more, but turned down her offer to meet up later. I just wasn’t feeling it. When I got home, I sat out on the front porch with a glass of scotch, thinking about the last time I’d been out here late at night.
Did Natalie really not remember what I’d said to her before I left for school? I guess it was possible, although sort of depressing. I’d never said words like that to any woman since. Was that why I couldn’t stop thinking about her? Was I subconsciously worried that I’d never meet anyone who measured up?
Not that I’d tried. I’d had a few extended fuck flings in my life, but nothing I’d call a Relationship. I had a lot of girl friends, Natalie being the oldest and most important to me, but I’d never had a serious girlfriend. Did I want one now? Was I lonely or something?
Frowning, I took stock of myself and decided not. I wasn’t the lonely type, not really. Sometimes around the holidays I got a weird hankering to snuggle with someone in a completely nonsexual way, and this felt kind of like that, but it was only June. Cuddle weather was at least four months away.
Leaning back in the rocker, I brought the glass to my lips and stared across the orchard in the direction of the Nixon place. I remembered much preferring their busy, cluttered farm house with its comfy couches to my parents’ drafty old Victorian with its formal furniture and silent rooms. And the Nixon house always smelled delicious because Mrs. Nixon usually had cherry pies in the oven to sell at their farm stand. Natalie’s new house will probably smell good all the time too. And she’ll marry Dan, and fill the house with kids, and it will be just as hectic and noisy and fun as her own house was growing up. Perfect for her.
But what about me? Did I want that? Letting the scotch roll over my tongue, I wondered if some part of me was tired of the parade of girls in and out of my bed and ready for something more. But that was crazy, wasn’t it? What twenty-seven-year-old guy would give up the freedom and fun I had just to settle down and be an adult? I mean, technically I was an adult, but I wasn’t a very adulty adult. I wouldn’t call myself serious or mature. Responsible? Usually. Good with a deadline. Hard working. But I liked sleeping in. Not wearing pants. Eating cereal for dinner. I made stupid dirty jokes, I used plastic forks and paper plates at home to avoid having to do dishes, and I’d been living in my apartment for two years already and I still had no curtains on the windows, no pictures on the walls, and no plants. Was that pathetic? Was I supposed to stop playing at being a grown up and start living like one? Commit to silverware? A woman? A rubber tree plant?
&n
bsp; I thought about my buddies with curtains and girlfriends, and the one with a wife. Were they happier than me? I didn’t think so. Maybe the married guy, but they were still newlyweds. That glow wouldn’t last. It certainly hadn’t for my parents. Sure, maybe wedded bliss made for some cozy Sunday mornings in bed, but were the Saturday nights still as hot?
And maybe feeling that someone would love you unconditionally for the rest of your life would be nice, but wasn’t that a lot of responsibility? You had to make the same promise, right? How would you know if you could love someone forever? Did I even have it in me to love someone that deeply? She’d probably want me to do things like wear pants every day and have brunch with her Republican parents and answer my phone. I just didn’t see that happening. Frowning, I took another swallow.
One person. Forever.
Fuck that.
But what if that person was Natalie? said a voice in my head. You think you couldn’t love her like that?
“Well, it’s not her,” I muttered, tipping back the last of my scotch. “It can’t be her. So fuck it.”
Instead of going home, I drove to Dan’s condo after leaving Miles in the parking lot. I had it in mind to surprise him in bed wearing something sexy—except that I had nothing sexy, not at Dan’s and not even at my house. I slept in tank tops and shorts. One Valentine’s Day, Dan had gotten me a red lace nightgown but it wasn’t the right size. I took it back and picked out a fuzzy pink robe instead. Red lace wasn’t really my thing.
Now I was beginning to panic that sexy wasn’t really my thing. Maybe I was the problem in our sex life—was I boring? Passive? Uninspiring? What could I do to spice myself up a little?
I thought of Miles letting some woman tie his balls to a wall and felt like a cloistered nun. It wouldn’t even occur to me a man might like that! I could sort of understand something like a blindfold or whipped cream, but really? Being tied up felt good? Maybe I’d been missing out. Not that I was going straight to bondage tonight, but after bragging about our fire to Miles this morning, I could at least try to light one.
Some Sort of Crazy (Natalie and Miles) (Happy Crazy Love #2) Page 5