"There was no tongue and leave my vagina out of this. We're nowhere near vagina territory with this story." I let the wine soak through the wad of paper as Cassie eyes me curiously.
"Zach kissed you and you felt nothing in your lady parts?" She quirks up an eyebrow. "I find that hard to believe."
"It wasn't like that. It was..." Confusing? I can't tell Cassie that. Explaining how it felt both perfect and wrong will be something she won't understand. She's all about casual and the fact that Zach's lips barely brushing mine is causing me so much angst will only make her shake her head. "It was sweet." There, that's true. "But I told him it can't happen again."
"Why?" Cassie wails. "You think he's hot, correct?" I nod. "He's single, right?" I nod again. "And you're single?" Another nod. "Then what is wrong with the two of you making your time together less about wrestling and more about wrestling?" She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.
"Because he's my becoming my friend, Cassie, and he works with my children. They're my top priority right now." I take another sip of wine and move to fill Cassie's now empty glass.
"Oh my God, Julia!" Cassie throws herself back against the couch. "You are making this way too complicated. You don't have to marry him. I'm even going to say you don't have to sleep with him. I think that would be a waste, by the way, but I'll still put that out there. Why can't you just date him, occasionally make out with him, and just see where it goes?"
"Because I tried dating, remember? It was a disaster." Cassie knows this to be true. I spent hours on the phone with her after each horrible attempt at meeting someone new.
"You tried dating accountants. And, really, only two." Cassie dares me to tell her she's wrong.
"What's wrong with accountants?" I ask. They were both accountants, she's got me there.
"There's nothing wrong with accountants in theory, but why did they have to look like accountants? Couldn't you have tried to find one who looked like a fireman instead? Really, Jules, you basically guaranteed there'd be zero chemistry. I'm sure they were nice guys, but nice guys aren't necessarily going to help you with your dusty vagina."
"Zach is a nice guy," I counter, fully aware that this isn't going to help my cause. "And since when has my vagina been—I can't even believe you said that." I gag.
Cassie puts on a serious face. "It's time, Julia. I'm worried you're going to forget how it works." She's teasing, but I scowl anyway. "And yes, Zach's a nice guy but one who looks like a fireman—the calendar kind of fireman. And you obviously have something more than friendship if the two of you are smashing your mouths together when you shouldn't be. That's chemistry."
"I'm not ready," I whine. Really, I'm not. Right?
"You're not ready for the world's nicest guy conveniently located in an insanely fit body? Come on." Cassie folds her arms over her chest and waits for me to answer.
"I'm not ready to ruin things. He's a good listener and he's great with the boys. I can't make things complicated with him. If we get into something more it could all get screwed up."
"Or it could be great. And speaking of screwing, you could get laid. That wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, right? He's hot and probably a cuddler. Maybe even the kind who makes you breakfast in the morning."
"You hate cuddlers. And breakfast makers," I remind her.
"Yes.” Cassie tops off both our glasses. “But you like them. I'm all sorted out over here. You're the one with cobwebs in places there shouldn't be. And you love a good breakfast! Maybe he makes pancakes! He looks like a guy who can whip up a stack of after-sex pancakes."
I roll my eyes and gulp more wine. Thanks to Cassie I now have a decidedly X-rated image of Zach flipping pancakes in his underwear.
"I guess you could always hit Graham up for some really binding, complicated, strings-attached sex. Since that seems to be what you're into." Cassie shrugs and I sputter.
"No way. Graham is out of the question. And who said I was looking for sex in the first place? I'm talking to you about Zach. Specifically about Zach, not about looking for someone to help me 'clear out the cobwebs.' And that's also repulsive, by the way." I point an accusing finger at Cassie, but she doesn't seem to mind.
"Everybody needs sex, Julia, and you've been lucky enough to have it almost literally fall in your lap. Do you know how much time I spend swiping right just to end up with jerks? More than I'd like to, that's for sure. And I realize Tinder isn't the place to go when looking for love exactly, so don't give me that face. You look like your mother."
I force my face to move into the least Fran-like expression I can manage. "But..."
"But what? We've established that the holy trinity of hook ups is already in existence here." Cassie holds up her index finger. "Extremely attractive." She adds another finger giving me a peace sign. "Confirmed single." Cassie lifts her third finger in the air. "Not a dick." She waves her fingers toward me. "All systems go. Stock up on condoms and invite him over. Or meet him out somewhere, I don't care. Just don't sit around here brooding." Cassie pauses and narrows her eyes at me. "Unless..."
"Unless what?" I'm afraid to hear what's got the wheels turning in Cassie's head.
"Unless you're scared because you actually think you might like him. Like more than like him. Like him like him." She waits for an answer while I stall for time. Because what does that even mean? I pick at the label on the bottle of wine.
"What if I do?" I ask. "If I ignore it then I don't have to think about it. But if I think about it... If I kiss him again or go out with him where does that leave things?"
"What things?" Cassie knows but she asks me anyway.
"Things with Paul." Once I say it I wish I could take it back. Who can compete with the ghost of Paul? Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away.
"Oh, honey." Cassie pulls my hand from the bottle and into hers. "Wouldn't Paul want you to be happy? Wouldn't he want you to be open to finding someone to love you now that he's not here to do it himself? I can't believe he'd want you sitting here alone. You wouldn't want that for him, would you?"
She's right, of course. If Paul were the one left behind I wouldn't want him missing out on living a full life—even one without me in it. He wouldn't want that for me either, although I'm not so sure how he'd feel about another man making me pancakes—especially nearly naked. "I'd want him to be happy. And, you're right, he'd want that for me."
"Then enough of feeling guilty. Let's take the sex part off the table for a minute. How about you just leave yourself open to letting things happen with Zach? Charlie and Noah don't have to know. Just enjoy hanging out. I shouldn't have freaked you out with all the sex talk. It's like riding a bike anyway. A hot, sweaty bike." Cassie winks at me. "Let's toast to just seeing what happens, okay?"
"To just seeing what happens," I say as I raise my glass to touch Cassie's.
"And let's hope that eventually includes seeing Zach naked," she adds before clinking her glass with mine. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."
11
Julia
It takes me two seconds to realize that setting up a photo shoot with Zach at the gym was a terrible idea. My conversation with Cassie runs through my head as I lug my equipment through the front door, my hands already sweating. When I catch sight of Zach he's standing near the back of the studio, stretching. He pulls his arms up above his head and every muscle in his back flexes. Now I have more than hot palms; I've got heat pretty much everywhere. I haven't seen him since our kiss and now my lips tingle in anticipation. I remind myself that I've nixed that idea and put Zach firmly back in the friend zone. Unfortunately, my body refuses to listen and Cassie's words of wisdom are like a car alarm I can't silence. I can just see what happens. And here we are back at the scene of the crime. Alone.
"Hey." He's casual with his greeting and doesn't make a move to touch me, instead trying to help me with the bags I have slung over my shoulders. "I thought you said you weren't a professional."
"I'm not," I reply, still huffing under the weight
of my bags. I let Zach pull a strap from my shoulder and nearly gasp at the slip and slide of his fingers as he takes it from me.
"This is a lot of stuff for an amateur. I was expecting maybe one point and shoot but this looks pretty legit." He smiles and I have to remind myself not to focus on his mouth.
"I got pretty serious there for a while. Doing family shoots and helping the boys' school. Taking pictures of events, things like that. And I've always taken nature shots..." I'm droning on and on but Zach's face doesn't show how bored he must be. "I'm sure you don't want to hear about that."
"I always like hearing you talk," Zach tells me as he turns away, and I can't decide if he's still making fun of me. He likes hearing me talk? He gingerly puts the bags down on the counter. "How do you want to do this?"
Naked.
The thought pops into my mind and almost out of my mouth. No! Not naked! Well, maybe shirtless. I pull in a deep breath and hope Zach can't tell how much I'm struggling to form a coherent thought. One without nudity. Damn Cassie and her "helpful" suggestions. Her little pep talk is making it impossible to concentrate.
I slide the remaining bag from my shoulder onto the counter, trying to avoid any physical contact with Zach. I still manage to get close enough to smell him and that's enough to make my brain fog a little. It's like I've been told there are no consequences for eating an entire chocolate cake. Like I've turned on the faucet and there's no stopping the water. Now that I know I could have him, Zach is all I can focus on. He stares at me with an expectant look and I realize I've stopped talking. I blink and make a show of opening the bag closest to me.
"Well?"
"I guess we could do some shots of you that are more posed. Like headshots. And then we could move into more action shots. Unless you want to work out first? But then you'd maybe be a little sweaty for photos. Which would be authentic but might not be what we want for all the pictures. Or we could work out some and then photos and then more working out." Again with the babbling. I telegraph a dire warning to my brain: Get your shit together.
Zach thinks for a minute, seemingly oblivious to my inability to speak like a normal person. "Let's do some posed stuff first and then work out. You're doing your lesson still, right?"
I'm in my workout gear; there was no way Zach would let me get out of working on my self-defense moves. That was what we decided when we finalized our plans for today. Really, he's only letting me take the photos to be helpful. He's doing me a favor trying to jumpstart my confidence. And he'd offered to let me practice on him before the kiss. The kiss I keep thinking about as I try to get him organized with some semblance of professionalism. I position Zach near the punching bag, hoping to put a little distance between us, but even then I can't resist fixing an errant hair or two. He lets my fingers run along his forehead. They're shaking when I go to raise the camera.
I take a few shots to test the lighting and Zach waits patiently. Being behind the camera gives me the chance to pull myself together a bit, but it also has one serious downside: I have no excuse not to look at Zach. In fact, I can stare all I want at his dark eyes and square jaw. I can take my time looking at the way his shirt strains against his chest, notice the way he fills out his athletic shorts. And even though I've got the barrier of the lens between us, Zach's looking directly at me with only the sound of our breathing and the click of the shutter to fill the empty space. I should have suggested music—would have suggested it—but now to bring it up seems desperate, like I can't handle being in the room alone with him. And maybe I can't.
"Let's move over by the counter," I suggest and turn the camera so I can scroll through the photos I've already taken. Zach's instantly by my side, looking over my shoulder. His head hovers dangerously close to mine.
"That's a good one." Zach points to the tiny screen. "I like having the bag in the background like that." He leans in even closer until I can almost feel the slight stubble of his cheek against mine. "Maybe a few less serious ones, what do you think?"
But I can't think. I jerk my face away from his and pull the camera strap over my head. "I need to change lenses," I blurt out. "And then we can take some action shots." I propel myself toward my bags and start rummaging around. When I finally dare to lift my head, Zach doesn't even try to hide his smirk.
12
Zach
Julia's flustered.
I have to admit it's pretty cute. She's been out of her element since she walked in the door and she hasn't been able to recover much since then. I can guess it has something to do with the kiss I laid on her last week—the one she made clear we wouldn't get to repeat. I'm trying my best to keep things friendly, but there's more touching involved than I had expected. Julia's hands have been all over me in the last thirty minutes and I'm enjoying it more than I should. More than a friend should admit.
Julia moves toward me and smoothes the fabric of my T-shirt. Her fingers brush the edge of the sleeve and linger for a second on the skin of my bicep. When I turn my head to smile down at her she starts, pulling away fast. She's trying to keep her distance, but I'm making it impossible for her. I never promised to be an easy candidate for her first photo shoot.
"Move a little more to your left." I dutifully slide over two inches. "More than that. Maybe two more steps. That's good."
Julia takes a test shot and checks the result in the viewfinder. Every time she raises the camera I curse the fact that I can't see her face. But I can feel her eyes on me and that's doing crazy things to my head. I can hear the whirl of the shutter closing over and over again—she must have taken a million pictures by now—and each click reminds me that I'm the center of attention.
But even if I can't see her face, I can take my time looking at the rest of her. I'm glad I insisted on having her come ready to work out. She's wearing basically nothing but spandex on her lower half and I can see every curve when she leans over. The novelty T-shirt I've come to expect is sleeveless and informs me that if you don’t like tacos Julia’s “nacho” type. It gapes open when she bends at the waist, giving me a full view down the front of her chest. A better friend might mention something, but the part of me that's less friendly wins out every time I get a peek of the sports bra she has on under there. Julia's covered, but I can see enough of the swell of her breasts to keep me looking.
I had thought that maybe she was nervous about letting me be her guinea pig for a photo shoot. She'd claimed to only take photos as a hobby so I expected her to be preoccupied. But she seems less bothered by the photography part and more fidgety about being alone with me. It isn't helping that I'm taking every opportunity to get in her space. It was accidental at first and I was feeling guilty that I'd made her so uncomfortable. I was worried we might not recover from my impulsive decision to mash my mouth on hers the last time we were here.
But something's changed.
I can't help but push her a little. I nudge her when she's close and pretend to absentmindedly run my fingers through my hair. When Julia has to come close to make me look more presentable, I put my nose as close as possible to her neck. She stiffens every time, but that doesn't keep me from breathing in deep. I can see the goosebumps rise up on her skin as I exhale and it tells me that it isn't all in my head. She's feeling the attraction too.
By the time we get ready to spar I'm anxious to be back in charge. I set up a sequence of punches for her once we're warmed up, taking my time helping her get set. I move in closer than technically necessary and correct her form until she's textbook. While I'm sure there's merit to this as a learning tool, it really only means I get to run my hand down Julia's back and slide my fingers over her forearms. Be professional, I remind myself but every accidental brush of my arm against her makes me stumble.
We've been working on less choreographed moves, which means Julia and I usually end up on the floor. With anyone else it wouldn't matter, but today I'm living for the moment when we end up tangled together on the mat. I'm bigger, sure, but the things we've been working on are des
igned to take away that advantage, something that becomes clear as soon as I reach out and swipe her leg with my right hand. The movement brings her down, but she takes me with her, rolling to get better leverage. I'm so off my game that in the second it takes me to recover she's flipped me—fucking flipped me!—and gotten her legs threaded over my hips. I'm on top, my back to her front when her arm slides around my neck. The increasing pressure should remind me to tap out, but instead of giving her the signal to let me go I just lie there, trying to catch my breath, every cell in my body on fire. She's breathing hard, each ragged breath mashing her breasts against my back, the heat from her body searing into mine. When my hand moves to find her arm, I give her less of a tap and more of a squeeze. I basically invite her to stay like this for the rest of the afternoon and even though I resist the urge to flip her over and kiss her, the sigh that forces its way out of my mouth tells her everything she needs to know.
Julia lets me go and gets to her feet faster than I've ever seen her move. She wipes her hands over her leggings and stares at me still sprawled on the mat.
"You flipped me." The disbelief in my voice is mirrored on Julia's face.
"Yeah," she squeaks out, still sliding her palms over the material of her pants. "I think I'm done for today. I need to get home and upload these photos." Julia turns, but not before giving me the chance to watch her cheeks go red. "I should get some shots of you with the kids. Can I do that when Charlie and Noah come for their lesson?"
"Sure," I manage as I pry myself from the mat.
Julia's back in professional mode when she turns to look at me again, only the tips of her ears showing what's left of her earlier blush. "You should email the parents of the other kids to let them opt out of photos that you might use publicly. Unless you have students sign a waiver when they register. I can't remember if you do that."
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