by Noelle Adams
A low chuckle escaped him. “I might have heard that a time or two. So that’s a yes?”
“But sex is always going to be a problem for me.”
“I don’t think it has to be. People get damaged in different ways. All the time. But they can heal.”
“I don’t know if I can heal. I really don’t.”
“I guess what I want to know is if you’re even willing to give it a try.”
She locked gazes with him, and he saw tears welling up in her eyes again. “I don’t know. Part of me wants to, but I’m so scared. And it wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“What wouldn’t be fair to me?”
“Leading you on like that. Starting some sort of relationship when I couldn’t promise that I’d be able to get over this. I couldn’t guarantee that we could ever have sex. I don’t want you to waste your time with me.”
“That’s my decision to make,” he objected, feeling the warmth return to his chest. “If I’m willing to take that risk, then you can’t use it as an excuse.”
She fidgeted in her corner of the couch. “It’s been years since I’ve even tried to have sex.”
Caleb didn’t fail to notice that she was no longer speaking in the hypothetical. She was talking as if it really was going to happen. “I know that. We’ll go slow. I wouldn’t expect anything else.”
“And no matter what, we have to preserve our friendship because I just can’t lose you. Nothing would be worth that.”
“I can’t lose you either,” he admitted, feeling unexpectedly vulnerable underneath the swell of growing anticipation.
She nodded as if she’d made up her mind, and he realized with a throb of his heart that this was actually happening.
Then her face crumpled again. “Caleb, I’m scared.”
He wasn’t sure what was the right thing to do at this moment—he’d never had any experience in this sort of naked intimacy—so he did what the pulsing of his blood compelled him to do. He reached over and pulled her against him once more. Wrapped his arms tightly around her.
She clung to his shirt and hid her face in his chest. “I’m just not sure about this. Are you? Are you sure?”
He wasn’t sure of anything. The weight of everything that had happened—that was happening—settled heavily in his gut. “I’m sure. I’m not sure about what will happen, but I’m sure we need to try.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “I trust you. We’ll try.”
His arms tightened around her automatically, until he was almost crushing her. She didn’t complain, didn’t try to pull away, so he didn’t loosen his arms.
He had absolutely no words, but he didn’t seem to need any.
After a long time, she finally raised her head, and Caleb made himself slacken his grip. She gave him a hint of her ironic smile. “So, I think maybe I’ll set up some appointments with my therapist. I haven’t been to see her in a while. She always wanted me to deal with the sex thing head-on, but I kept refusing.”
Caleb smiled back. “Sounds like a plan.”
“So how should we begin this?” she asked.
What he wanted was to kiss her and see where that led them. But she’d been serious about taking it slowly, and he wasn’t about to ruin his one chance by pushing things too quickly. “Maybe we could go out on Saturday night.”
“Like a date?”
He was really glad to see she had gotten her spirit back. “Exactly. So what if it’s cheesy and predictable? We should have a first date.”
“Okay,” she agreed, looking close to happy. “It’s a date.”
They stared at each other until she broke the gaze and glanced down. “Do you think we can do this?”
He wanted to give her encouraging absolutes, but he had none to give her. “I think so.”
“I guess that’s all anyone can ever say about anything.” She shifted restlessly. “Do you think you could stay with me for a while tonight, so I don’t get too scared and chicken out?”
He suddenly felt a little scared himself, only now realizing exactly what he was getting himself into, how trapped he would be by this. “Of course,” he replied, trying to sound confident. He pushed up the sleeves to his shirt in an attempt to cool himself down. After arranging himself in a more comfortable position, he opened his arms in invitation.
Marissa came into them. Settled herself against him. Closed her eyes and burrowed into his body trustingly.
They lay together without speaking, and he eventually lost track of the time. He was feeling so much of so many different emotions that he was basically helpless against them.
Marissa’s body was warm, soft, and pliant. She was fully clothed in baggy sweats. Her hair was messy, and her face scrubbed and not softened by makeup. But, despite this, he had to fight against being aroused.
He did fight it. This wasn’t the time, and she didn’t need to be confronted with that tonight.
She needed to know that just because things were changing, not everything would change. So Caleb held her close and wordlessly tried to assure her that he wasn't trying to take anything away from her.
Her weight against him was comfort, was hope, was a strength of feeling he’d never experienced. But it was also the burden of responsibility, and it was something he couldn’t ignore.
Marissa was trusting him in this. Trusting him with all her fear, insecurity, and need. Which meant he couldn’t let her down. Which meant this would be so much harder, so much deeper than anything he’d ever done before.
So he admitted to himself—even though he’d never say it out loud—that he was just as terrified of this thing as Marissa was.
Maybe she’d never done sexual intimacy, but he’d never done emotional intimacy.
And he knew in his gut the emotional was harder.
And later, after she dozed off in his arms, he had to admit one more thing.
Marissa had asked him a question, so abruptly and unexpectedly, when they first came into her apartment earlier. And he’d answered it instinctively, unthinkingly, foolishly.
But he had to admit it now.
His first answer had been a lie.
Eleven
Marissa released a long, agonized groan and threw herself onto her bed.
She had landed on a pile of clothes, so she made herself roll off them before she got them wrinkled.
A good portion of her wardrobe was strewn around the room. She hadn’t done this in a couple of years—try on dozens of outfits in a desperate attempt to settle on the right one.
With no success.
Tonight was Marissa’s first date with Caleb, and she had absolutely no idea what to wear.
It shouldn’t be this hard. She’d been out with him thousands of times, and she’d never had a problem picking out an appropriate outfit before. He knew her, knew what she looked like, and knew all the clothes in her closet.
It wasn’t like she was going to surprise him by her beauty and style.
All she had to do was find something vaguely suitable to wear. It wasn’t that hard. She had plenty of clothes. Just pick something. He was going to be here in twenty minutes.
She stared at the piles of clothes cluttering her bedroom, hoping the perfect outfit would jump out at her.
When inspiration failed to strike, she reached over to pick up the phone.
Caleb answered on the second ring. “Hey.”
“Where are we going tonight anyway?” she asked, without greeting or preamble.
There was a slight pause as he adjusted to her blunt question. “Dinner. I told you before.”
“But where are we going? I need to know.”
“Why has the need to know suddenly become so urgent?” Caleb’s voice sounded as if he were smiling.
Marissa smiled a little bit too—at the sound of it.
“I don’t know what to wear,” she admitted. “At least tell me what you’re wearing.”
“I can’t believe you called me up just to ask me what I’m wearing. I was just o
n my way out the door.”
“This is a very serious situation. An absolute wardrobe dilemma. Are you dressed up?”
“No,” he replied, apparently taking pity on her desperation. “I’m not wearing a suit or anything.”
Well, that helped. She could eliminate about a third of her choices. “You aren’t wearing jeans, are you?”
“Give me a little credit. I’m wearing a shirt and pants.” He said the words as if they would mean something to her.
They did mean something to her. Despite his vagueness, she could now picture exactly what he was wearing. “Okay. Thanks. I guess I can find something appropriate.”
There was a long pause before he responded. “Should I be gratified that you’re so stressed over your outfit?”
She was very much afraid that he should be gratified.
All she said was, “Don’t get too smug about it. It’s just because I haven’t had a real date in five years. A little wardrobe trauma is to be expected.”
He laughed again. “I’m leaving now, so I’ll be there shortly.”
“I’ll try to be dressed when you arrive.”
After she disconnected, she heaved herself to her feet and rummaged through her clothes, finally settling on a trendy patterned skirt in blues and grays.
She pulled it on and decided it flattered her butt, so she didn’t take it off. Five minutes later, she slipped on a blue top that showed a lot of shoulder and just a hint of cleavage. The outfit looked stylish but not too dressy.
She stared at herself in the mirror for a minute. Wondered what Caleb would think when he saw her. Wondered if he would notice the cleavage.
Although she knew now that he was apparently attracted to her, she still had a hard time believing that he was actually interested in her body.
Peering at herself, she turned around slowly in front of the mirror. It was a good body—very short, but fit and shapely. But was it really something Caleb wanted?
Caleb, who could have any woman he wanted.
She shrugged and went to find a pair of earrings.
She was just touching up her lip gloss when she heard the knock at the door.
Her stomach tightened painfully.
They’d both been busy for the last few days, so they hadn’t seen each other since Monday night—when everything had been brought out in the open.
So, as she went to open the door for him, she couldn’t decide which feeling was stronger. Delight at seeing Caleb again. Or terror at seeing Caleb again.
Putting a hand to her nervous belly, she decided it was basically a tie.
She swung open the door for him. “What happened to using your key to just barge…”
Her voice trailed off when she saw him.
He stood in the doorway with a half-smile on his face and one hand in his pocket. He was dressed all in black—black dress shirt, black trousers, black shoes. His eyebrows elevated slightly when he saw her dumbfounded expression.
But how could she not look dumbfounded? Why hadn’t she realized before just how gorgeous he was? Why was it like she was seeing him for the first time—this irresistibly scrumptious man?
She swallowed again and tried to remember what she’d been saying.
When she didn’t complete her question, Caleb answered it anyway. “I don’t know. I figured since this is supposed to be a date, I’d actually wait for you to answer the door.” He eyed her from top to bottom with an expression that made her quite quivery. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”
“Thank you.” She blushed under his warm regard. She just wasn’t used to Caleb looking at her that way, as if he really thought she was gorgeous. “Come in. I’m just about ready.”
As she walked back to her bedroom to grab her purse, she felt unusually self-conscious.
She had the strangest feeling that Caleb was checking out her butt.
When she came back from her room, they stared at each some more, and Marissa felt unexpectedly shy.
Which was ridiculous.
This was Caleb. Her best friend. She’d gone out with him hundreds of times before. Yes, things had changed, but there was no reason for her to feel tongue-tied and uncertain. No reason to want to melt into the floor.
He quirked his lips. “I promise I’m not going to ravish you on the way to dinner. You don’t have to look so terrified.”
And that snide remark made her feel a lot better.
“I’m not terrified, but this is very weird. We’re going out on a date for the first time in all the years we've been friends, so I feel a little awkward.”
“I know. I feel a little strange too. But I think this will be good if we can just get over it.”
“But let’s try to keep it kind of low-key to begin with. I’m already freaked out enough. Please tell me you didn’t go all out and plan some sappy, sentimental evening full of roses and violin music.”
“You know me better than that,” Caleb replied, chuckling, as they took the elevator to the ground floor. “My feelings for you have changed, but I haven’t completely lost perspective. I promise there will be nothing dramatic, cheesy, or trite.”
“Thank God.”
“Just dinner.” He looked cool and contained, which only made him more attractive and Marissa more jittery. “I promise. I know you pretty well by now, you know.”
“I know you do.”
She held his arm, as she often did, as they walked toward his car. But for some reason, her grip on his sleeve tonight felt more possessive than usual. Like she was making some sort of claim to everyone else on the street—he’s mine, keep your hands off him.
The restaurant was a quirky little place next to the river, refurbished from an old factory built a century ago. Their table was waiting for them, clearly the best spot in the room, in a secluded nook right across from the roaring fireplace.
“Cute,” Marissa said, as she took her seat and glanced around. “I can’t believe I’ve never been here before. I love the antiques.”
Caleb was trying to look cool and nonchalant, but she could tell he was pleased by her compliment. She wondered how much thought he’d put into picking out the restaurant.
When their server came, Marissa secretly hoped that Caleb wouldn’t order champagne. It seemed too predictable and romantic, and it would cast a certain mood on the evening that she didn't really want. To her relief, he ordered a very expensive red wine.
They talked about mutual acquaintances and other harmless topics until their salads arrived. Marissa was starting to have a good time, growing more comfortable by the minute.
Although the room itself wasn’t comfortable at all—the night wasn’t very cool, so the fire was getting really hot.
Marissa wished she'd worn a shirt with shorter sleeves.
The lights in the restaurant were dim, and there were candles on the table. So Caleb’s skin almost glowed in the flickering light, glint and shadow playing across his face and dark hair. The candles were glittering in his eyes too, so everything about him became more and more effulgent as the sun slowly set outside the windows.
Part of his luminosity was probably because his skin was slightly damp. He must be just as hot from the fire as she was.
She was just telling him about a book she’d been reading when a high-pitched scream on the other side of the room distracted her.
They both turned in the direction of the shout, and they saw two little boys—obviously twins and maybe three years old, chasing each other around a table on the far side of the restaurant.
Marissa laughed as she watched them, but then winced as one of them ran smack into the back of a chair at another table.
The boy let out an indignant exclamation, and the elderly lady who sat in the chair squealed in surprised outrage.
Caleb and Marissa shared a covert smile of shameless amusement.
“It does seem kind of late to have such little kids out at restaurants,” Caleb remarked, as he watched the boys run riotously in circles. “Surely it's past
their bedtime.”
Marissa was giving him a fond smile when he turned and caught her expression.
“What?” he asked self-consciously, looking at her in suspicion, as if she might have been laughing at him.
“Nothing. It’s just funny to hear you talk about bedtimes.”
He looked a little offended. “Why shouldn’t I talk about bedtimes?”
“No reason. I’ve always known you secretly liked kids.”
This seemed to offend him even more than her laughing at him. “I do not. Most of the time, they’re annoying and poorly behaved and nothing but a nuisance.”
“Uh huh,” Marissa agreed, starting to feel waves of heat coming off the fire.
What was wrong with the people who ran this restaurant? It was a warm spring evening. There was no reason for such a hot fire in an already stuffy, crowded room.
Surreptitiously, she wiped her damp forehead with her napkin. Hoped she wouldn’t sweat so much it would show through her clothes.
To distract herself from her physical discomfort, she picked at her salad and asked Caleb something she’d been wondering about all week. “So,” she began, trying to keep her voice natural. “When did you decide you wanted something other than friendship with me?”
He blinked, looking a little surprised by the sudden shift in conversation, but he answered immediately. “It was at that fundraiser when you fell into the pool.”
“You’re kidding me. That night was horrible. What about it could possibly have changed your feelings?”
He made a strange face. “Well, that was the night I realized I was really attracted to you.”
“Seriously? When I was gorgeous in my new dress? Or when I was a wet mess after falling in the pool?”
Caleb’s lips twitched. “I’m afraid it was the wet mess that did it.”
“You’re kidding. You decided after all these years that I wasn’t as unattractive as you’d always thought when I was drenched and cursing at you?”
“Yeah. The cursing was a particularly strong turn-on. But I never found you unattractive even before.”
“You did too.”