by Lyssa Layne
“You wish that people were trapped inside burning buildings getting smoke inhalation every day while their homes and businesses burn to the ground? You’re a sick man, P.J..”
Laughing, I brush my lips across her forehead. “You know what I mean. It was just an adrenaline pumping high that won’t go away.”
Her hand slides over my stomach, making me twitch down south, and it rests over my heart. “I can feel that.” She looks up at me and I can picture those hazel eyes even in the dark as her hands move to my necklace, sliding the cross back and forth on the chain. “Don’t you ever get scared?”
And only because it’s her and she’s my safe place, I tell her the truth. “Every day but it’s what keeps me motivated. Get in, get out, be the hero.”
She laughs and I smile because I love the vibration she creates against my chest when she does that. “What is it with men and hero status? Like do superheroes have amazing penises and it’s really penis envy that makes all men want to be a hero?”
“Only you would turn my statement into something about penises,” I say with a chuckle. It’s part of the reason we get along so well, she thinks like I do. “Seriously, who wouldn’t want to be a hero? Run in, save the day, get the girl.”
She tilts her head up toward me, her hazel eyes glowing in the moonlight and all the joking is gone. “You don’t always have to be the hero, P.J..”
I push a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. “But I want to be.”
“You need to know the difference between being the hero and being stupid.”
Our eyes locked on each other’s, I give a soft smile. “Why are you so concerned, Mari?”
Her hand reaches up and she touches my dimple before she caresses my cheek. “Because I worry about you, P.J..”
“Because you care?” I ask with my eyebrow cocked, interested to hear Mariana’s answer.
“Because I couldn’t afford the rent if you were dead,” she says, rolling over with her back to me.
I shake my head and laugh, knowing I wouldn’t get a straight answer out of Mariana Barbosa, my feisty paramedic roommate. She doesn’t have to say it, I know she cares about me because I sure as hell care about her. Rolling to my side, I slide my arm around her and kiss her bare shoulder. Yep, this is definitely the perfect ending to a perfect day.
Chapter Three
Mariana
“Are we seriously going to stay in tonight?” I ask, using my chopsticks to sort through what’s left of the lo mein noodles in the box I’m holding.
Slurping the last of his noodles, P.J.’s lips make a smacking noise as their purse together, capturing the noodle. I twitch my lips to the left, trying to hide the smile that comes to my face as I recall what it’s like to kiss those lips of his. He finishes eating before he answers, taking his sweet time and knowing it drives me nuts. Impatiently, I clear my voice, trying to coax an answer out of him before I fall asleep.
“That depends,” he finally answers.
I roll my eyes. “On…”
I swear, Paul Jefferson will be the death of me. The man can push my buttons like no other and try me by doing the exact same thing. It’s a good thing we both agreed not to pursue anything with each other when we decided to share this apartment. Although some days I curse myself for agreeing to the condition, I know it’s for the best. Paul Jefferson is nothing but a playboy who I know would crush my heart in a New York minute if given the chance.
“On if you’re going to wear that low cut Kim Kardashian dress you were wearing the night we met.” P.J. wiggles his eyebrows, knowing I hate when he brings up that night.
“One, it was a romper, not a dress. Two, nothing I own should ever be paired with Kim Kardashian because I have zero curves like she does. Three, is that a yes?”
“One and two, whatever and three, hell yeah it’s a yes. We never get nights off together so let’s live it up tonight.”
P.J. lets out a whoop and stands up, heading to his bedroom to get ready for the night. Why he even has a bed in his bedroom is beyond me. Even on the nights that I’m at work and he’s at home, he sleeps in my bed. I don’t really know how that became a norm for us but it’s what we do, and on the outside it’s completely awkward and socially unacceptable but to us, it’s just us, P.J. and Mariana. It started when we both had really dark days at work, we’d each only been working for a couple weeks. Both of our shifts had been filled with death, more death than we’d ever seen in our life filled that one day. We’d each been in our own rooms, pounding down one Jack after another. Around midnight, we happened to meet up in the kitchen. When he asked me how my day was, I lost it. Big, loud sobs came out of me while I fell to the floor. Then,no questions asked, P.J. picked me up, carried me to my bed, and he’s slept with me every night since.
Giddy to be going out and knowing I won’t have to fend off any men since P.J. will be with me, I run down the hallway into my room to find the perfect outfit to wear. Sliding hangers from one end of my closet to the other, I find the romper that P.J. is talking about. I bite my bottom lip but leave it hanging up, afraid he might look into me taking his suggestion as more than it is if I wear it. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I start laughing because Paul is a man and men don’t think about things like that, especially when we’ve both friend zoned each other.
Paul
Spraying on my cologne, I grin at myself in the mirror. Dressed in jeans and a grey three-quarter sleeve t-shirt, I squirt hair gel in my hand, styling my hair into the perfect faux-hawk. Usually, I’d wear some type of FDNY apparel out because it picks up the most chicks but tonight isn’t about bringing home a woman, well, a woman other than Mariana. She hates it when I wear my fire department stuff because it draws attention to me and even though she won’t admit it, she hates having to share me with anyone else. When we first moved in together, I would do it on purpose to see her get all worked up and flustered, but now, we’re both so busy with our jobs that I don’t waste what little time we have together over such pettiness.
Walking out of my room, because I always let Mari use the bathroom to primp, I see the door is still closed, meaning she’s still getting ready. I head to the kitchen, pop open a beer, and take a seat at the breakfast bar in anticipation of seeing Mariana dressed up. Thinking back to the first night we met, I smile as I remember exactly how she looked in that black dress, or romper, whatever she called it. Her back was to me when I first saw her and normally I’m not a short hair kind of guy, but even without seeing her face, I knew there was something special about her. Then, when she turned around, I was in for a great surprise when the outfit was cut clear down almost to her belly button.
But it wasn’t the outfit or her body that drew me in, no, it was that narrow face of hers with the big hazel eyes that smiled at me. I was still new on the job and had worn my FDNY shirt on purpose but Mari didn’t even notice it. Our eyes locked and our connection never broke the entire night. It wasn’t until a couple hours later that we were finally in the same proximity that I finally said hello, and to this day, we’ve never said goodbye.
“Ready?”
I look up and my jaw drops when I see Mariana. She’s messing with her earrings but she looks stunning in a two piece black outfit, a high waisted skirt on bottom that hugs her tight curves and a high halter cut top with a slit between her breasts. The back of her bodice has two pieces of lace that leave her back wide open. It doesn’t matter if this woman is dressed in something like this or a pair of my sweatpants, she is always beyond gorgeous.
“Does this lipstick color look alright?”
She purses her bright pink lips and I shake my head. I swear some days she does shit like this on purpose. I stride across the room to her, placing my hands on her hips and pulling her body against mine. Dipping my head against her neck, I seductively whisper, “I know somewhere else it would look better.”
Her laughter fills my ear as she pushes me away. “You’re an asshole, P.J.. You know that, right?”
&nb
sp; She grabs her purse and saunters toward the back door. I take my time, enjoying the view, even though I know it’s off limits. Less than twenty-four hours after we met, we decided to live together and we also decided nothing would ever happen between us. As much as I cherish our friendship, and I’d be lost without it, I sometimes curse the deal that we made.
***
Fuck me! Her hips are going to be the death of me tonight… or the worst case of blue balls in the history of them. The music blares around us, sweat rolls down my forehead, and Marianna’s round derriere rubs against my manhood, just like it has for the last five songs. My hands on her hips, I spin her around to face me, trying to give my poor dick a chance to breathe. Her own face flushed from the alcohol and the dancing, she cocks an eyebrow as she slides her hands around my neck and presses our bodies closer together.
“What?” she yells in my ear, her cheek against mine.
I shake my head, swaying our hips together to the music. It depends on how much she’s had to drink, but if I tell her the truth, she’ll either get pissy or grind harder against me. There’s no winning with Mariana, she’s hard-headed, stubborn, and oh so fuckin’ sexy. She yells again in my ear, her warm breath turning me on even more and I know I should stop dancing right now. Instead of answering, I grab her hand and walk us to the bar, ordering a couple shots.
“What’s this for?” she asks, holding up the shot of tequila.
“My dick needed a break.”
Without looking at her, I throw back the shot, grimacing as it burns down my throat. I knock the glass on the bar top, asking for another. Holding up my second shot, I look over and see Mariana glaring at me. I drop my hand to her hip, rubbing it softly and finding no panty line.
“It’s a compliment, Mari. Now, take your shot.”
Not satisfied with my words, she sets the shot glass back on the counter. “You know I wasn’t trying to—”
“Shut up,” I interrupt her and pick up the glass, holding it to her lips. “You’re hot, you’d turn any guy on the same way. I’m the one lucky enough to get your attention tonight, but I know nothing’s going to happen so I’m just taking a break. Drink.”
Trying not to smile, Mari can’t stop herself and she opens her mouth just wide enough for me to dump the tequila in it. I throw back my second shot and wait for Mari’s response to my words. Sure enough, after she finishes scrunching up her face in disgust of the shot, she turns to me.
“Fine, I’ll stop. Let’s find you someone then that can take care of that erection.”
I shake my head. “Who said I had an erection?”
Mariana rolls her eyes. “You don’t think I couldn’t feel that rod on the dance floor?”
Laughing, I shrug and order us each another shot. “You got me there but I don’t want someone to take care of it.”
Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head. “Uh-huh, no way. We’ve established boundaries, I will not be offering any handjob, blowjob, or any other type of job services tonight, or ever, for you.”
My heart tinges at her words but I just laugh louder and nod. “Glad we’ve set that straight… for the five-hundredth time.”
“Oh, look! There’s a blonde, she would totally bone you!” The alcohol starts to take its effect as Mariana points across the room at another woman, not even trying to be inconspicuous. “Wait, no, she looks easier than her.”
Another wild arm gesture that is sure to catch us some attention, I reach over, grabbing both her arms and pushing them to her side. She narrows her eyes, irritated that I’m not willing to drop her like a bad habit and run into the arms of some random woman that she thinks is easy. I smile because it’s shit like that that is endearing, the way she fights our attraction by trying to hook me up with someone else. Some nights, I wish she’d just let her guard down and let us be whatever we should be.
“I think it’s time we head home.”
Mariana shakes her head, trying to disagree with me. I put my finger to her lips, nodding my head yes and hoping she’ll do the same. Reaching in my wallet, I throw some money on the bar and walk us toward the exit. Mariana doesn’t argue much because she knows she doesn’t want to see me with someone else. It’s part of the whole messed up relationship we created from day one.
“Why don’t you send me home and you can go talk to one of those girls?” Mari suggests, her arms wrapped around my waist as we wait for a cab in the brisk evening air.
I nod, my head on top of hers. “Maybe I will.”
Mariana doesn’t say anything as she starts to pull away. I smile and hold her tighter, I love to mess with her, make her fight her feelings for me. Kissing her forehead, I shake my head.
“I’m not going anywhere but home with you, Mari,” I whisper and she hugs me closer.
If I’m being completely honest, one of the reasons I joined Fire Department New York was for the chicks. I could’ve done anything I wanted to but I picked FDNY because what woman doesn’t want a Mr. March from the firefighter calendar in her bed? I could be the world’s biggest douche, hell, I could even act like Patrick Doyle, and all I would have to say is “hello” to a woman and I could get laid. Funny how one woman can change all of that.
Sitting in the backseat of the taxi, Mariana snuggles up to my chest, snoring softly as the driver heads to our apartment. I’d do anything in the world for this woman I play house with. That’s all it is, we play house, the end. She goes out with guys and does what she wants, I go out with women and do what I want, and at the end of the night, we come home to each other and pretend that we’re in a normal relationship although our relationship is anything but typical. I don’t know if it was night one or two, or night twenty-two, but we just fell into ‘us’ which happens to be the oddest thing I’ve ever experienced and the most comfortable thing, too.
After paying the taxi driver, I carry Mariana up the stairs to our apartment, holding her like a woman I’d save from a burning building. Quietly, careful not to wake her up, I make our way to her bedroom and lie her softly on the bed. I delicately slip off her heels and pull the sheet over her. The moonlight shines in from the window, highlighting her high cheekbones as her chest slowly rises and falls with each breath. I could spend the rest of the night like this, but an aching from a specific body part reminds me it’s not a good idea. So I head to the kitchen, finding a bottle of tequila, and taking shots until the ache disappears.
Stumbling to the bedroom, I pull off my shirt, throwing it in the middle of the hallway. Inside the room, I drop my jeans and fall into bed with Mariana in just my boxer briefs. No sooner have I laid down, she rolls over, pressing her body against mine. I don’t even have to look down to know that she stripped while I was getting shit-faced in the other room. Closing my eyes, I groan as I drift off to sleep, her bare skin against mine and the ache coming back without my permission.
Chapter Four
Paul
I swear there’s a man inside my head with a hammer. He’s not hitting it hard, just a light tapping, enough to keep the dull headache from disappearing. I’m afraid if I open my eyes that the sunlight pouring in the window will cause the headache to rear its ugly head and—
Sunlight? Fuck, what time is it? Using every ounce of energy I have, I focus on the task at hand—opening one eyelid to find a clock. Just like I’d predicted, the sunlight scalds my eye and the man tapping the hammer goes from a light tap to a full on banging. Mariana still in my arms, I stretch my arm as far as I can, walking my fingers across the nightstand to grab my phone. Once my brain recognizes the numbers, the pain in my head doesn’t matter as I bolt out of bed. Every firefighter gets three chances and once those three chances are up, you’re out, so I can’t afford to be late.
“Mari, wake up! You’re going to be late!” I yell as I run down the hallway, tripping over the clothes I’d shed the night before. Well, this makes things easy, I reach down and pull them on instead of digging through my closet.
I run back to the bedroom before I race o
ut of the door, wanting to be sure that Mariana is up and not late herself. The sight in front of me brings a smile to my face. Mariana, looking as hungover as I feel with her eye makeup smeared and her short, dark hair going in every which direction, is scratching her head with one hand, holding the sheet over her chest with the other.
“I feel like ass” is all she mutters and I laugh, knowing the feeling.
Running over to the bed, I kiss her forehead. “Greasy pizza tonight, it’ll cure our hangovers.”
She nods, waving me away and stepping out of bed. I walk out the door but glance over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of Mariana’s perfect ass. Grinning, I run out the door, forgetting about my headache after that view. Once I’m out of the apartment, it’s a mad dash to cross town and get to the station on time. The hour hand on the clock ticks to seven as I rush through the bay doors.
“Cutting it close, Jefferson,” Murph calls to me without looking up from his newspaper.
“Hardly, Murph. Did you forget I was first in the CPAT in my class?” The CPAT is the Candidate Physical Ability Test and includes a stair climb, hose drag along with six other physical challenges that firefighters encounter on a regular basis.
Murph glances up, obviously not amused with my comeback. “You’re not dressed for work.” He stands up and walks to me. Once in my vicinity, he leans forward, sniffing me like a hunting dog. “Are you hungover? I swear to Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Jefferson, if you have alcohol in your system—”
“Chill, Murph, I’m fine. I just need to change.”
Quickly, I sidestep him before he smells the lingering alcohol on my breath. I’m pulling my shirt off as I walk into the locker room. A minute later, I’m in my BDUs, work boots, and FDNY t-shirt. I grab my toothbrush but can’t find any toothpaste in my locker. Looking at the locker beside me, I see a fresh tube of toothpaste sitting in the locker labeled Garrity. I glance around to see if anyone is watching and start to reach for it when I hear someone clear their throat.