by Kendall Ryan
I grunt. “No way. The next time we go out, I’m choosing what we do. Something manly. Sport fishing, cross-fit, all-you-can-eat Brazilian meats.”
She makes a gagging noise next to me, and then laughs. A sweet sound that’s full of life and promise, just like her.
When we reach our building, I walk her upstairs, stopping outside her door. She looks beautiful in her simple white cotton tank and jeans; somehow her casual dress makes her look younger than her twenty-four years. I’m filled with desire for her, but I know if she invited me inside right now, I’d fuck everything up.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, her wide-set eyes fixed on mine.
Tracing my thumb along her jawline, I revel in how soft her skin is. “Anytime.”
Emery’s breathing hitches, her only indication that my touch affects her. I want to lean in and kiss her, press my lips to hers, but I won’t. Can’t.
After a wistful moment, she turns and heads inside, the lock clicking into place once she shuts the door.
“Good night, Emery,” I say, and turn to head for my place.
When I get inside, I toss my keys and wallet onto the tray on the counter and sigh. I’m trying to figure out why hanging out with a woman has never felt like that before. It was easy and fun, and I already want to do it again.
Shaking the thoughts away, I open the fridge and peer inside. I’m still fucking starving from that vegetarian dinner. It may work for Emery, but I need meat to sustain me. After making myself a sandwich, I sink down onto the couch and grab the remote. The TV may be playing in the background, but I can’t help but recount the cute little things Emery said and did tonight.
Fuck.
Roughly swallowing a bite of roast beef, I sit straight up in my chair. I realize, with stunned horror, that I like her. I like hanging out with her. I like her personality, her sass, the fact she has goals. The curve of her hips, her tight ass . . . and the fact that she took the time to put on earrings before our non-date.
I’d also like to bang the shit out of her, but I know that isn’t possible, both because of my vow to Hudson, and to Beth, but also because it’s not what Emery wants or needs. She needs a friend. And that’s what I’m going to be.
Setting my unfinished plate aside, I get up and head into the bathroom. I need a cold fucking shower. I need to knock this shit off. I’ve made a goal for myself, and I’m not going to fuck it up. Even if my dick is rock hard right now just thinking about her.
Quickly stripping down, I step under the spray of lukewarm water. It does nothing to quell my erection, especially since I know that Emery is just one floor below me. She’s probably changing into her pajamas, and my mind spins with the possibilities. Does she sleep in a matching shorts-and-tank set, or maybe just her panties and an old T-shirt, her beautiful tits straining against the softened fabric?
My hand finds my cock and I squeeze, trying to quiet the images in my brain. It’s no use. The way her round ass filled out those jeans, the hint of cleavage that peeked from her tank top, it’s been burned into my brain. Knowing I’m going to give in to temptation, I grab the bottle of body wash, squeeze a generous amount into my palm, and use the suds to stroke my cock up and down. A grunt pushes past my lips as my hand speeds up. My shaft feels like steel and my balls draw up closer to my body.
The images in my brain turn far more salacious . . . Emery naked and kneeling between my feet, her pink lips sucking on the head of my cock, her bent over my bed with her ass up nice and high so I can see her glistening pussy, me pounding into her, showing her what it’s like to be fucked by a man who knows what he’s doing.
As I pump my fist over the sensitive head of my cock, a strangled moan crawls up my throat and I come hard, sending semen jetting onto the tile below. As the water washes away the evidence of my lack of self-control, I take a deep gulp of air. Jacking off to thoughts of my friend isn’t normal. I need to lock this shit down. Right the fuck now. But as I towel off, I decide that if this is what I need to do to remain in control around her, so be it.
After my release, I feel a bit more disciplined, my head clearer, and I’m thankful for that. I put on a pair of sweatpants, and then head to the kitchen to grab my phone.
Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I send a text to Emery, inviting her to join me at my nephew’s soccer game tomorrow. I figure there’s no way I can bend her succulent ass over and fuck her in front of twenty four-year-olds. It’s safe, and I need to stick to safe activities. Ones where my cock won’t get me into trouble.
Because this friends-only thing? It fucking sucks.
Chapter Ten
Emery
I pull into one of the few spots left in the city park’s lot. Today has turned out lovely—all sapphire sky, golden sun, and best of all, a low-smog alert—and it seems like all of Los Angeles has come out to enjoy it.
Walking to the soccer field, I look around until I see Hayden waving from the bleachers. There’s a cute couple with him that must be his sister and her husband. What are their names again? I try to remember. Hayden mentioned them in his text. Beth and . . . Daniel? No, David.
Beth is sitting on the bottom row of steps with a princess no older than three conked out on her lap. It’s amazing what little kids can sleep through; despite all the children shrieking and adults laughing around her, this girl is out cold. I can see the family resemblance to both her mother and to Hayden—the same dark hair, the same high forehead, the same straight nose.
A slightly older boy clings to David, his free hand gripping a box of apple juice. His messy nut-brown hair makes him look more like his father. He looks up at me with huge blue-gray eyes. When I smile and wave back at him, he grins and hides his face in his father’s pant leg.
David chuckles and pats his son on the head. “He likes you.”
“Careful, Hayden,” Beth says with a smirk. “You’ve got competition.” She reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a warm shake.
Hayden’s eyes swing over to mine, and a warm shiver runs along my body. “You came.”
I nod. “Of course I did. It’s beautiful out today.”
He and Beth both look up at the sky, trying to figure out what I mean. It’s LA—every day is pretty much the same. I guess this Midwest girl isn’t used to that yet.
Noticing that his nephew is still hiding his face in David’s leg, Hayden squats down to the boy’s level. “Hey there, Austin. How’s my buddy? I invited my friend Emery to watch you play today.” The boy grunts and buries his face even more. “You want a high-five?” Hayden says, holding up his hand.
Giggling, Austin bats at it with his juice box, squirting sticky sugar water all over his uncle’s hand.
Hayden’s air of cheerful calm doesn’t diminish. “You excited to play today?”
Austin finally speaks up. “Yeah. I’m gonna soccer.”
“He cried on the way here,” Beth interjects. “He wanted to wear his dinosaur shirt, but we put him in his league uniform, so . . . you can guess.”
A stout man in a baseball cap walks onto the turf and blows his whistle. The chaos of parents and kids all around us spikes to a crescendo.
“Looks like it’s time to get on the field.” David bends down to take Austin’s hand. “Ready to go see your friends?”
“No,” Austin says.
“Come on, little dude. Don’t you want to—”
Austin screams so loudly and so suddenly that I jump. His sister squirms in Beth’s arms, still half-asleep.
David sighs. “Hayden, can you take him somewhere quiet? I have to get his bag from the car.”
“No problem.” Hayden scoops up the flailing Austin and walks off toward a nearby stand of trees.
When both men have left, Beth turns to me. “Sorry about that,” she says, stroking her daughter’s raven hair to soothe her. “I think he’s just overstimulated. He loves soccer, but sometimes all the people and noise and activity . . .” She makes a bzzt noise. “Blows a fuse.”
I shake my head wi
th a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Life is tough when you’re a kid.”
“Heh . . . tell me about it. Hayden’s great with him, though. Which is a huge help. David and I didn’t get much sleep last night. Georgia kept waking up all night with some weird dream. Too much candy before bed.” Beth dips her head to indicate her daughter, who is already comatose on her lap again. Then she hesitates. “When Hayden mentioned he’d be bringing a girl . . . I gotta say, I didn’t expect you.”
Now she has my attention. Any chance I can get to dig up some dirt on Hayden, I’m game. Especially because I want a point of reference that isn’t Roxy’s. I sit down next to Beth on the bleachers. “What do you mean?”
“Hayden doesn’t usually hang around . . . you know. The kind of women you bring to meet your family.”
Two uncomfortable ideas hit me at once. One of them is: Meeting his family? Is that what this is all about? Am I being evaluated? And the other: Was Roxy right after all? Hayden doesn’t date girls long enough to introduce them to anyone. He doesn’t bother with “nice girls” at all; he aims for the women he can pump and dump. So how long is he going to bother with me, in my frumpy T-shirt and worn tennis shoes and a streak of white sunscreen on my nose?
Beth’s casual comment has unleashed fears I didn’t even know I had. I make a mental note to mend fences with Roxy; she was only trying to look out for me after all.
I’m suddenly aware that I’ve been silent for too long. I lick my dry lips nervously, trying to figure out how to respond to Beth. “Well,” I finally say, “I mean, we’re just friends. I’m not . . .” Not interested, I swear. “I don’t need to be his type.”
“Oh,” Beth says, drawing out the sound into a long note of realization. “I’m sorry. I just assumed you were his date.”
Do I want to be his date? Am I that lonely and horny? What am I even doing here?
Beth interrupts my torrent of thoughts by pointing at the field. “Looks like things are under control now.”
There are almost two dozen little kids scattered over the turf, dressed in either red or blue. Evidently toddler soccer is more popular around here than I would have guessed. I note with relief that Austin is among them.
David and Hayden come back to the bleachers and we settle in to watch the game. But as much as I try to concentrate, I’m too aware of Hayden’s warm, solid body pressed up against my shoulder and thigh. And Beth’s comments about him never bringing nice normal girls around buzz through my head.
• • •
The game ends in a one-to-one tie. The players did more shouting, giggling, and rolling on the grass than actual soccer, and the referee called several time-outs for temper tantrums or crying over scraped knees. But the kids seem like they had a good time, which is the whole point of sports anyway. And watching them run around in circles chasing the ball was adorable.
As soon as David suggests going to a local pizzeria to celebrate, Georgia snaps awake. She insistently repeats peese-a, peese-a all the way across the parking lot until we separate into our own cars. And now I’m sitting with Hayden’s extended family again, crammed into a plastic booth in a loud, colorful restaurant.
His younger sister, Gracie, who’s closer to my age, arrives and slips into the booth next to Hayden. Her eyes land on me, and when Beth introduces me as Hayden’s new friend, Gracie’s eyes go as wide as the plates on our table.
“Oh. Um . . . hi?” she says, offering me her hand across the table.
It’s like I’m the main attraction at a freak show. I take her hand and shake it. “Hello.”
I have no idea what to say next. Gracie is gorgeous. Where Beth is put together in a no-nonsense way, with her bobbed haircut and friendly eyes, Gracie exudes an air of feminine beauty and innocence. Wide-set blue eyes and tousled wavy hair that’s chestnut-colored, but with flecks of gold where it catches the light. Her high cheekbones and pouty lips make me envious. Having nothing else to say, I glance back over to Hayden.
I’m watching him bounce his tiny niece on his knee and feed her bites of cheesy bread. And I’m still wondering what the hell I’m doing here. What this all means; what I should do next.
I’m confused all over again, and I have no idea how to feel. Hayden is so sweet with his nephew and niece, so playfully combative with his sisters, so chummy with his brother-in-law—he’s clearly capable of love and affection. So why is he so closed off when it comes to women?
He still hasn’t opened up about his past, no matter how much I prod and poke. Did something specific sour him on romantic relationships? Is he distrustful because he’s scared? What happened to make him this way?
I want to corner Beth and ask her, but something tells me she may be more forthcoming with information if I can get her away from all these distractions—and pump her full of sangria. I make a mental note.
Georgia is an absolute mess, with sauce smeared all over her face and the front of her frilly dress. Hayden is laughing and tickling her. Beth and David are fussing over Austin. Gracie sits quietly, taking it all in with a fond smile.
Watching them, despite my confusion, I can’t help but feel content. Strangely soothed. They’re a picture-perfect family. And Hayden’s grin—unrestrained, dimples showing, blue eyes crinkled almost shut as he laughs—is nothing short of beautiful.
I remember the way he touched my face after dinner on Saturday. I felt an unmistakable spark of warmth and wanted to lean into his hand, wanted him to . . .
But none of that should ever happen. It’s best that nothing did happen that night. Even if we both feel funny in our pants for each other, sex just isn’t a good idea. We won’t work in the long run. Period.
So then . . . what do we do? Continue this friendship that nobody seems to think Hayden is capable of? In the end I just eat my mushroom pizza, drink my soda, and let myself soak in the warm, comfortable atmosphere. And if I admire Hayden more than I should, I don’t think too hard about it. Because there’s nothing to think about.
Hayden and I arrive back home at the same time. We walk together through the front entrance and upstairs to my door. “Thanks for coming,” he says as I unlock it. “It was nice to have another grown-up in the mix.”
I turn to him, my keys still dangling from the lock. I want to ask why he invited me today. I want to ask why he ever started talking to me in the first place. But all I say is, “Sure . . . thanks for inviting me. I had fun.”
He opens his arms slightly. “Hug good-bye?” His crooked smile says that if I don’t accept, he’ll pass it off as a joke. Something he never really meant in the first place.
I hesitate for a second, then step into his embrace. He is so warm, so solid and real, and it’s been such a long time since I’ve been touched. I inhale his cologne, that same smoky spice that riveted me the first moment we met. My cheek rests against his neck where smoothness meets stubble, and I can feel his pulse fluttering. I can feel the angled, muscular body under his casual clothes. And one very particular angle pressing into my stomach . . .
I pull back my head just far enough to look into his stunning eyes. “Stunning” is exactly the right word—they paralyze me, pin me, make me helpless. Our mouths are less than an inch apart, and I realize that my heart is hammering. Just as fast as his.
Desire and fear make me brave . . . or maybe just stupid. “What are we doing?” I ask him, not meaning for it to sound like a plea.
“Being friends,” he replies. His breath puffs over my lips, and I almost shiver. “Why do you ask?”
“Because friends don’t usually get erections for each other, do they?” I retort without any real force, bumping my hip into the large ridge in his shorts. Friends also don’t get soaking-wet panties, for that matter.
Hayden glances down and away, looking something close to frustrated. “I just . . . haven’t gotten any action in a while. Ignore me. It doesn’t mean anything.”
He’s probably just saying that to defuse an awkward situation. But it still kind of stings to hear
“it doesn’t mean anything” about a boner that I assumed was for me. I hoped was for me.
I nod, stepping away long after I should have. “If you say so.”
“You want to do something next Saturday? Maybe get dinner again?” he asks casually, as if everything were totally normal and not a big confusing horny mess. Fuck, I mean these panties are literally destroyed. From one hug.
“Um . . . sure.” Why the hell not. For no real reason, I nod again. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”
He smiles and raises his hand in a half wave. “Good night, Emery.”
I watch him walk down the hall and disappear up the stairs, and then I finally go inside. As I get ready for bed, my mind keeps spinning on and on about Hayden. I replay and dissect every word I’ve heard today while I shower, brush my teeth, and change into pajamas.
He said he hasn’t gotten any action lately. But why not? Why isn’t he sleeping around like he usually does? Maybe he just said that to brush me off. But it suddenly occurs to me that he never seems to be unavailable. Whenever I text him, he always replies within an hour, and he’s free practically anytime I want to hang out. Is he spending all his spare moments with me? Is that why he isn’t getting laid?
I don’t know what this means. I don’t even know how I feel about it. I bury my face in the pillow, ready to give up and go to sleep.
Just as I start to drift off, my phone rings. Groaning, I roll over and grab it. “Hello?”
“Hi, sweet pea,” Mom cries out, her voice cheerfully loud. I can hear rumbling engines and crunching gravel in the background; she must be at the truck depot. “How are you?”
I prop myself up on my elbow and squint at the alarm clock. “Uh . . . I’m fine. What’s up?”
“I know this is short notice, and I’m sure you’re busy with work, but I got a last-minute delivery to Pasadena. Some kind of electronics parts, I don’t have the manifest in front of me. Anyway, I’ll be in your neck of the woods on Saturday, so I’d love to get lunch if you have time.”
“That sounds great, Mom. I’ll take a half day on Saturday and come out to see you.”