by DC Renee
“Then how do you plan to go to your cousin’s wedding together?” he tossed back.
“That’s one night, and your friends don’t have to know. Or if they do, you can say you felt bad since you’d already committed. I don’t know. We’ll think of something,” I responded with a huff.
“The point of the breakup is that I use you, get you comfortable enough that you want to move on to the next level in the relationship, and then I dump you and you’re still fine with it. That means, if you are still fine with it, we can continue to be friends.”
“And your buddies are just going to believe you broke up with me, and we stayed pals?”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because that’s not logical!” I yelled.
“Who says? And besides, we can do it in front of them, show them that you don’t mind, and voila, we’re still friends.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” I told him.
“It does now. You’re my friend, Em, and you’re staying my friend long after this bet. Long after your cousin’s wedding. End of story,” he said vehemently. I would have flinched at his tone if his words hadn’t been kind of sweet.
“You don’t know that,” I told him, hoping he did know that. Even though I had pushed back, tried to prevent myself from letting him in, and felt an enormous amount of guilt, I didn’t want to think of him not being in my life.
“Em, look at me,” he said as he came around the counter and stood in front of me, bending a little so he was at eye-level. “I didn’t spend all that time and energy getting you to let me in for just a couple of months. It wasn’t for the bet or the wedding or for any other reason than I like to spend time with you. And that’s not going to change. Ever.”
He continued to look into my eyes, darting back and forth between them, and I just stared right back. I didn’t have a good response on my tongue, so I kept silent. But my whole body was tingling, fluttering inside at his words. He was gazing directly into my soul, reading my fears and fighting them off perfectly.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Okay, good,” he responded and stepped away.
“So how exactly are we going to do this breakup in front of your friends?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“We’ll figure it out.” He shrugged. “For now, it’s movie time.”
Funny. I could have sworn I was living in my own movie. With me as the star and Carter as the hero. I was just waiting to see if I’d have a happily ever after.
Twenty Four
Carter
“Ugh!” Emerson said beside me. I had come over to her place after work.
“You really suck at calling ahead, you know,” she told me after she opened the door. “If I was anyone else, I might not be home,” she added. My heart actually hurt for her when she said that. I mean I was glad that she was home and pretty much always available for me to stop by whenever I felt like, which had been happening more and more lately. But I hated the fact that she chose to keep people away, which was the reason she was home. And I especially hated that she put herself down without really realizing it. Or maybe she did? Who knew with Emerson?
“I like the element of surprise.”
“It’s no longer surprising when I pretty much know to expect you almost all the time,” she retorted but let me in and led the way to the kitchen. “I got to say I’m shocked your sister hasn’t done any of these stop-by maneuvers you like to do. You both are two peas in a pod when it comes to your bullying ways.”
“Hey,” I said mock offended. “I am no bully. I just know how to get my way at any cost.”
“No wonder you’re a good lawyer,” she said with a smile. “You know exactly how to twist the truth to your advantage.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I asked.
“Nah. Somehow, it’s not when it comes to you.” I smiled with pride at her response for some reason.
She smiled back, and it lit up her eyes. Now that I had noticed them, it was hard to un-notice them, even with her glasses and all the crap painted over her eyelids. They stood out like two blue pearls. I had noticed new things about them every time we hung out. Like when her smile reached her eyes, the blue would somehow get a little lighter, like the color was literally glowing as much as she was. When the light hit them just right, you could see tiny gold flecks bouncing around like her eyes were a stream with hidden gems buried underneath. I could never stop staring, but if Emerson noticed, she didn’t say anything.
“So what’s for dinner this time?” she asked as I set down the takeout I had brought with me.
“Indian,” I responded.
“Oooh,” she said as she clapped her hands together. “Okay, you can stop by and surprise me anytime you want as long as you keep bringing me deliciousness.” I threw my head back and laughed.
“I’d be offended that you're staring at the food like it’s your source of happiness when clearly, I’m in the room, and obviously, I’m the deliciousness you speak of,” I teased.
“Clearly.” She smiled and paused. For a brief moment, I was insanely happy, and I wasn’t sure why she all but admitted I was the best part of her day. And then she smiled wider and added, “Someone forgot to take their crazy pills today. Nothing is better than Indian food. Gotcha, didn’t I?” She laughed. “You thought I’d agreed with you.”
“I’d know better than to think that,” I responded, but she was right. She had gotten me, and when I realized she had been teasing me, I actually felt sad. But I brushed it off, we ate dinner, or rather, I ate; she ravaged the food. If I had known she loved Indian so much, I would have brought it a long time ago. Maybe that would have scored me some brownie points before.
And since we didn’t have any movies we wanted to rent on TV, we ended up watching some cheesy romance comedy, and Emerson was saying, “Ugh” every few minutes.
“Okay, I give up. Why do you keep saying that?” I asked.
“Because, come on, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate a nice body, I do—”
“All you had to do was ask, Em,” I interrupted her as I started to lift the hem of my shirt with a gleam in my eye.
She laughed. “Put it away, C,” she said, still laughing. “There are enough chest shots in this movie, which is why this movie sucks.”
“That’s why this movie sucks?” I asked with my own laugh.
“Like, look, there again.” She pointed at the screen. “They’re just finding excuses for him to take off his shirt so that oversexed teens and horny women will watch this movie.”
“And you’re above all that?” I asked with a smirk.
“I drooled over the first scene. Maybe the second, but now, it’s just too much. Where’s the storyline?”
“I’m pretty sure these types of movies don’t care all that much about the storyline,” I responded.
“Maybe you’re right. I mean everything he’s doing is unrealistic. No guy would willingly embarrass himself to prove a point.”
“Uh, bet, dress. Ring a bell?” I reminded her.
“Good point. Okay, correction. No guy would willingly embarrass himself to prove his undying love for a girl. It would make him seem less macho in front of his buddies. And your species is all about being ‘a man,’” she said with air quotes. “Would you?” she asked.
“Nah, not my thing,” I responded. “I take it no guy’s ever done a sweeping grand gesture for you,” I inquired.
“Yeah, that would be a resounding no.”
“What about the rumors?” I asked her.
“What rumors?” she asked with mild curiosity with a hint of annoyance.
“The ones you told my friends about,” I told her.
“Huh?” she asked.
“The first time you met my friends, you told them you thought I’d come up to you because you figured I’d heard the rumors about your sex life.”
“Oh, my gosh,” she said as she laughed loudly and deeply. “That was to make this all believable, C,” she said after she cal
med her laughter. “I’d have to be really stupid or really naïve to believe someone like you would willingly want to date someone like me … unless there was a reason.” I meant what I told Beth – I no longer saw Emerson as the ugly girl I once did. She was just Em to me now, but I knew what she meant, and I felt like a complete and utter asshole as a result.
“That’s not true,” I tried to protest, but she put up her hand to stop me.
“Look, I know you like hanging out with me, being my friend, and all that other mushy stuff, but that involves getting to know me, and no guy wants to get to know a girl like me. Unless, like I said, there was some specific reason. Like the freak is actually a freak in bed too. Let’s face it, if not for the bet, we’d never be friends.”
“You don’t know that,” I retorted, but I did know that. She was one-hundred percent right, and I fucking hated it. But I also thanked my lucky fucking stars for that stupid ass bet because I got to know Emerson, and I didn’t know how I went through life before her.
“Please, C, we both know I’m neither really stupid nor really naïve, so yes, it’s true. And that’s also why I felt the need to give your friends a reason for why I bought your act. And it didn’t hurt to watch their jaws hit the floor.” She smiled with a shrug.
“So the rumors?” I asked.
“Aren’t true,” she finished for me.
“But you’ve been with someone before, right?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“You’re the first person I’ve let my guard down for, C,” she responded, and I sat frozen, words stuck to my tongue. It made perfect sense, and I knew that to be true, but still … I just, I couldn’t fathom it.
“So no one?”I asked. She shook her head. “That means you’re …” I didn’t finish my sentence.
“Jesus, C, do I have to spell it out for you? V-I-R-G-I-N, virgin. And now, I’m officially embarrassed, thank you very much,” she said as she covered her eyes with her hand.
“But you’re twenty-four,” I said with equal parts shock and elation, but why the fuck would I be elated? I couldn’t understand that emotion at all.
“You need to be close to people to do those things,” she said with her hand still covering her eyes. “I’ve never even been kissed,” she whispered.
Before my brain figured out what the rest of my body was up to and before I understood what I was doing, I had Emerson’s head in my hands, and I’d pressed my lips against hers. I held my lips to hers even as I felt her stiffen beside me, but I wanted her to melt for me, so I pressed harder. She gasped, and my tongue swept inside her mouth of its own accord. It took a moment, and just when I was about to pull back, afraid that I had gone too far, I felt her relax, and her tongue met mine. She was unsure, hesitant, tentative even, and it was refreshing. Her mouth melded perfectly to mine, and as I circled my tongue with hers, she picked up quickly, giving many experienced kissers a run for their money. I heard a moan, but I wasn’t sure if it was coming from her or me. It didn’t matter; this wasn’t ending anytime soon, not if I could help it. It felt like a first kiss to me, and obviously, it was for her, but it was the best first kiss I’d ever had. Where other women had been aggressive or seductive, Emerson’s kiss was just that – a kiss. It was an exploration, the first steps in telling me she trusted me, and I felt like a fucking champion because of that. And I was enjoying this kiss, this sensation entirely too much, but I didn’t care.
Finally, the kiss ended. I wasn’t sure who actually pulled away first, but I immediately felt the loss of her lips against mine. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, not one filled with lust and desire, but rather a sweet one, the kind innocent teenagers experience for the first time. She made me feel young, made me relive a time when I was an innocent teenager. I wanted her lips on mine again; I wanted to crush them with my own, but I couldn’t comprehend why. But I just blinked at her and said, “Now you have.”
I saw the entire spectrum of emotions float through her eyes. I saw the shock register, the embarrassment, the gratitude, the anger, and everything in between before settling on acceptance. And then, in true Emerson style, rather than make things awkward or dwell on it, or call me out for being a jerk or crossing some line, she resorted to wittiness. “Well, I guess I don’t have to wonder what the ladies see in you anymore. It’s obviously not your wonderful personality.” She smirked. “But if you keep that up, I’m sure you’ll never have to worry about someone warming your bed.” Then she winked. She fucking winked at me. I didn’t have to wonder why I liked Emerson so much. Nope, not at all. It was fucking obvious that it was her wonderful personality… and her eyes. Yeah, her eyes too.
Twenty Five
Emerson
That kiss. That kiss. Wow. I mean … wow. No, make that a capital WOW. W-O-W. I was alone, but I wasn’t sheltered. I’d often wondered what it would be like to kiss someone. I’d imagined my first kiss, imagined a heck of a lot more actually, but I never thought any of my wildest fantasies would come to fruition. But then again, I never thought a whole slew of things would happen in my life. And then I met Carter, and suddenly, I was doing and saying things I wouldn’t have done before.
I was so mortified when I had to admit I was a virgin. So absolutely humiliated. I’ve never shared intimate stuff about myself with anyone. I didn’t have girlfriends who sat around and compared penis sizes. Carter was the closest thing to a girlfriend that I had, but even then, who the hell wanted to admit to a guy, especially a guy like Carter, that they were a virgin? Certainly not me, but I blurted it out. And then my mouth wouldn’t shut up because it went on and told him I’d also never been kissed.
And then wham. His lips were crushing mine, bruising them really, while his hands held my face so gently. The contrast in pressure alone would have shocked me, but that was taking a backseat to the fact that a guy was kissing me. And not just any guy. Carter fucking Anderson was kissing me, and yes, that totally called for the f-word. And he didn’t peck my lips like a pity kiss. No, he had his eyes closed, his eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly, his lips moving against mine even when I was rooted in place, my hands at my sides, my eyes wide open. He didn’t back away. He pressed on, and I gasped, which I should have known from all those damn books I read was a universal sign for “Pass Go, Collect Two Hundred Dollars.” And “Go” in this particular scene was tongue in mouth, and by that, I mean his tongue in my mouth. And the “Collect Two Hundred Dollars” part? That apparently meant it was time for tonsil hockey.
Lucky for Carter, I liked hockey. I had never played before, just watched from the sidelines, but heck, if the coach wanted to put me in the starting position, then who the hell was I to argue, right? So I played my damn best. And by that, I, of course, meant I let my tongue tangle with his. I wasn’t sure what the hell I was doing, but I followed his lead. And boy what a fantastic lead it was.
I must have done something right because Carter held my face tighter, his grip not allowing me to pull back. Not that I wanted to. I had been completely shocked when it started, but the warm wetness of his tongue, the softness of his lips, drew me in, mesmerized me, made me feel something I’d never felt before. I wasn’t willing to give that up—not even knowing this might change things for me. I needed this. I needed it so badly, and I didn’t even know it. But now that I’d had it, I wasn’t giving it up that easily. And then he moaned, and if I didn’t have confidence before, I sure as hell had confidence now.
Somehow, my hands had traveled up to his hair and buried in its silkiness. All the different sensations, the emotions bubbling up inside me … they were too much. When people said that reality was better than fantasy, they were on to something because never, in all my imaginations, had a kiss come close to this. It was something else really. From his lips, to his hands, to the way the strands of his hair felt under my touch. And the way he held me so reverently. I felt like this wasn’t just a random kiss to him. And the way his tongue worked mine. Whoa. Give me a second to fan myself.
I couldn’t handle it
, though, so I pulled away. He opened his eyes slowly, but when he looked at me, his eyes were glazed over, his lips were parted, swollen, and his breath was shallow and ragged as if he’d been running for miles.
I knew I looked the exact same way, but all I saw was that I hadn’t been the only one affected, which completely thrilled the hell out of me.
But then I remembered Carter had kissed me. Carter fucking Anderson had kissed me. I mean I knew he’d been kissing me, but knowing it and actually realizing it were two different things. I could have been mad; I should have been mad. I never asked him to kiss me, I never asked him to take pity on me and give me my first kiss, and I sure as hell never asked him to get me to enjoy it. And if you haven’t figured it out yet, enjoy it I did. He stepped over a line. He stepped over a big line. He took something away from me – my choice. If I hadn’t kissed anyone in all my years, what made him think I wanted to kiss someone now? What right did he have to presume I wanted his lips on mine? And more importantly, I felt an overwhelming wave of embarrassment. I had admitted I was a twenty-four-year-old woman who had never been kissed, and my friend, practically my only friend, took it upon himself to rectify that.
And to top all that off, he said, “Now you have,” like he was doing me a favor. See? Totally should have been mad, but as I studied his face, watched the rise and fall of his chest, and saw the way his heart beat in his throat, I knew he hadn’t done it out of spite. He hadn’t even done it out of pity. Something else was there, and that made me even more scared than if it had been a sympathy kiss. Because with just one kiss, just one taste of him, I was royally screwed. All the feelings I had been battling, all the emotions I had refused to acknowledge, and all those nagging voices I shoved deep down were suddenly all out at once. I liked Carter. And not in the friendly type of way. I liked Carter. I really liked Carter. And I couldn’t have that. Not only because I was sure that, even with this phenomenal kiss, he’d never like me, but also because I had let him in far enough. I couldn’t afford to let him see every inch of me, every part of me I was still hiding.