It Was Us

by Cruise, Anna

  “When are you done here?” he asked.

  “Soon.” His toes ran up and down the lower part of my leg and I felt my skin prickle with goosebumps. “Why?”

  “I dunno. Thought we could grab some dinner. Take it back to my place. Eat. Have sex.”

  I laughed. “Oh, really?”

  He grinned and nodded. “Yeah. It's been two weeks. I'm starved.”

  I knew he wasn't talking about food. “Not two weeks,” I said, frowning. “My room? Hello? Or was it so uneventful that you've forgotten?”

  He dug his toes into my skin. “Shut up.” He reached for me and pulled me into his lap. “Not what I was talking about and you know it.”

  “You just said—”

  He silenced me with his mouth, crushing his lips to mine, kissing me hungrily. “You know what I mean,” he whispered against my mouth. “I mean this kind of sex...” His voice trailed off and he shifted me so I was straddling his lap, my sundress pushed up to my hips, his arousal pressing against the thin fabric of my panties.

  I raked my hands through his hair, my fingers wrapping around those silky strands and pulling gently. He moaned and shifted his hands to my breasts, cupping them through the filmy fabric of my dress.

  “Maybe we should eat now,” he said, slipping the bodice down and yanking at my bra. He lowered his mouth and fastened his lips over my breast and it was my turn to moan.

  “West,” I said, trying to pull free as his mouth ravished me and his hands roamed every inch of exposed skin. “Not here. Not now.”

  He dragged his mouth away from my breast and looked up with half-lidded eyes. His expression was harsh and he swallowed a couple of times, trying to steady his breathing. Finally, he nodded, his hands loosening on my skin, a gentle caress instead of an urgent need.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. He repositioned me so I was sitting on one knee, much like a kid would sit on Santa's lap. He laid his head against my shoulder and breathed deeply. “Just wanted you to know I missed you. And want you.”

  “Point taken.” I kissed his hair and stood up. I took a deep breath, trying to get myself under control. I straightened my dress, smoothing the creases in the skirt. “I need to file some of this stuff and send a couple of e-mails. Oh, and check on a virtual tour, make sure it uploaded.”

  “How long?”

  I shrugged. “Twenty minutes? You can wait or I can meet you at home.”

  He shook his head. “Nah. I'll wait.”

  I sat back down in the cushioned office chair and clicked the mouse, bringing the computer screen to life. I felt West's eyes on me as I tapped away at the keyboard, sending messages and checking the agency website to ensure the virtual tour had been uploaded to a client's listing. At one point, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through something but otherwise, he kept his gaze firmly planted on me. It wasn't disconcerting and it didn't make me squirm. I liked it. I liked that, two years later, my hotter-than-hell boyfriend still looked at me the way he did. Still desired me. Because I felt the exact same way about him.

  I powered off the computer and reached into the bottom drawer of the desk to dig out my purse.

  “Done?” West asked.

  I nodded.

  “Thank God.”

  I stood up and rounded the desk and he reached for my hand, pulling himself into a standing position.

  “Hungry?” I asked. I flipped the light switch off, activated the security alarm and we both pushed our way through the front door.

  “Yep.” He lifted the sunglasses off his head and slipped them over his eyes. “For food. And for you.”

  I smiled and squeezed his hand in response. “Mmm. Me, too.”

  FOUR

  WEST

  Griffin, my roommate, was sitting on the couch, a bottle of Heineken in his hand, when Abby and I got to my place. His massive frame was stretched out across both the couch and coffee table, his eyes glued to the television. A surfing competition overseas, one I didn't know about. Not that I didn't love to surf or follow it anymore; I just didn't have time.

  He peeled his eyes from the screen. “Yo.” His eyes drifted to the greasy paper bag I was holding in my hands. “You bring dinner? Sweet.”

  “Yeah,” I said, tossing my keys on the dining room table. “For me and Abby.”

  “What the fuck, man?” He frowned. “Since when do you go to Alberto's and not bring me rolled tacos?”

  Abby slipped past me, heading down the hallway and into the bathroom. I set the bag down on the table and pulled out two foil-wrapped paper boats of rolled tacos and a smaller, grease-stained paper bag filled with tortilla chips. I opened this, grabbed a chip and popped it in my mouth. “I dunno,” I told him. “How about never?”

  He shook his head and sighed “Low, man. Way low.”

  I opened the fridge and grabbed a diet Coke for Abby and a beer for myself. I found the bottle opener, popped the cap and took a long swig.

  “Looks like she's feeling better,” Griffin commented.

  I flipped a dining room chair around and straddled it, facing the television. “Yeah. Think so.”

  It had been a week since Abby had been sick but she hadn't been by my place. Classes and work had taken priority. She'd been on spring break from Mesa during part of it but she still had reading to catch up on and a paper to make up. And I'd been busy, too. With classes and baseball practice and games.

  “Still,” Griffin said, his eyes lingering on the wrapped food on the table. “She probably doesn't have her appetite back yet. You could probably snake me one of those tacos. She won't even know.”

  Abby poked her head around the corner. “You trying to steal my food again, Grif?”

  He grinned at her. “Guilty.”

  She sank down in the chair next to me and unwrapped her boat of tacos. They were loaded with guacamole, smothered in cheese. She grabbed one, set it on a napkin, then walked the other two over to Griffin.

  He held up his hands. “Dude. I was kidding.”

  She held it out to him. “Take it. I'm not that hungry.”

  He looked her up and down, frowning. “Yeah, well, you need to eat. Looks like you dropped five pounds since the last time I saw you.”

  Abby looked down at her stomach, her thighs. I didn't think she was skin and bones but she did look a little thinner. I was planning to check things out later, intimately, to see just where she might have lost those pounds.

  She shoved the paper boat at his chest and he took it grudgingly. “Fine,” he muttered. “So damn pushy. Just like that friend of yours.”

  Abby joined me at the table, a smile lingering on her lips. “Speaking of,” she said, picking up her lone taco. “How is my best friend? Talked to her lately?”

  Griffin and Tana, Abby's best friend, had met at the end of last summer. In true Griffin fashion, he'd made an impression. A good one, since Tana had agreed to go out with him. They managed a few more dates before she headed back to school in San Luis, then stayed in touch via text and email. Nothing exclusive, but there was something there. Tana had come back to San Diego during Christmas break and, with Abby's mom done with treatments, we'd found a little time to double-date. Tana was exactly what Griffin needed, could balance him and stand up to him and drive him as wild as Abby drove me. Except she lived five hours away.

  He bit into one of the tacos she gave him, cutting it in half with his teeth. “Yeah. Got back from her trip last night. She said she tried calling you.”

  Abby nodded and the tip of her ponytail touched the taco, dipping into the guacamole. I handed her a paper napkin and she dabbed at her hair. “Yeah, she did. Texted me, too. I fell asleep early.”

  “She's coming down next weekend,” Griffin said, his mouth full. He took a swig of beer. “Said we should all go out or something.” He took another huge bite. “I told her no.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What?”

  Griffin chewed and swallowed. “Dude, I haven't seen her in a month. Last thing I wanna do is hang out with you t
wo. Know what I mean?”

  I saw Abby try to hide a smile. I knew exactly what he meant. Abby and I didn't talk about it much but we knew our best friends were into each other. I was cool with it and Abby was cool with it. And I didn't begrudge him one bit that he wanted some alone time with his woman. Because it was exactly what I wanted with mine.

  Within five minutes, I'd polished off my tacos and drained my beer. I put my trash back in the bag and wadded it up. Abby was picking at the remaining chips, nursing her diet Coke.

  “You ready?” I asked her.

  She looked at me absently. “For what?”

  “For a run?”

  Her eyes widened and I thumped her knee. “Duh.” I lowered my voice and squeezed her thigh. “For sex. Because I need you. Now.”

  Her cheeks reddened and she nodded her head. “Ohhhh.” She smiled. “You're so subtle.”

  I stood up and walked the bag over to the trash. “I really am. It's gotta suck for you, trying to figure me out. What I want and stuff.”

  “Yeah. You're a total mystery.”

  I reached for her hand and pulled her up and, without a glance or word to Griffin, led her down the hallway and into my bedroom. I closed the door behind her and pushed her up against the frame, my hands braced against the wall as I leaned in to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her mouth open and moving against my lips, her tongue tangling with mine, teasing me. I lowered one hand and ran it down the length of her, grazing her tits, my fingers splaying against her belly before dipping lower, hiking up the skirt of her dress.

  She pulled me against her, tried to grind into me. “I don't want to wait,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire.

  She didn't need to tell me twice. I grabbed her around the waist and picked her up and carried her to the bed. I reached for her ponytail and pulled the elastic out and her hair spilled down her shoulders, a brown silky mess that I wanted to bury myself in. I unzipped her dress, slipped it off her, unclasped her bra and pulled down her panties. She writhed underneath me, desperate to be touched, to be kissed, to be fucked.

  And I didn't disappoint.

  FIVE

  ABBY

  “What's going on with you two?”

  My best friend and I were at the beach, enjoying the kind of spring weather the rest of the country only dreamed about. A late snowstorm had buried half of the Northeast and tornadoes were springing up across the southern part of the country. But in San Diego, it was a balmy seventy-five degrees, perfect for a lazy day at the beach. With Tana heading back to San Luis later that afternoon, we were doing our best to play catch up before she headed up the coast.

  Tana shifted on her striped beach towel so she was facing me. “What do you mean?”

  I rolled my eyes behind my sunglasses. “You know what I mean. What's up with you and Griffin? You seem...I dunno. Serious.”

  She shrugged. “I don't really know. I mean, I like him. He's hot. He's nice. He's great in bed.”

  I pretended to plug my ears with my fingers. “TMI, Tana.”

  “Oh, please.” She laughed. “As if I don't know every goddamn detail about you and West.”

  “You don't,” I said. I leaned back on my elbows and tilted my head up, letting the sun hit me full-on in the face. “I don't share everything.”

  “You share enough,” she argued. “And what you don't share, Griffin does. I swear to God, I feel like I'm in the bedroom with you two.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Gross.”

  “Exactly.” She tugged on the earbuds looped around her neck and set them down on the towel next to her phone. “So. He's fine.”

  I thought about this. “And you're okay with the long-distance thing?”

  It was something I couldn't imagine doing with West. Last summer, when he'd had the opportunity to play ball at the University of Arizona, I'd worried about that. Obsessed over it. And West had worked hard to make sure we wouldn't be apart, had talked to the coaches who had pulled strings to get me through admissions. And then I'd found out about my mom. About the cancer. And I knew the last thing I'd be able to do was leave her. I remembered with aching clarity how torn I'd been, how I didn't want to tell West and risk him giving up his dreams for me. But I knew I couldn't do a long-distance relationship, either. Not with knowing that I'd be spending all of my free time with my mom, taking care of her, and not with knowing that West would be slammed with school and practice and games, making trips back to San Diego all but impossible.

  And now my best friend was doing the one thing I couldn't picture myself doing. Having a long-distance relationship.

  “It's not like you and West,” Tana said. She pulled off the black elastic that she wore around her wrist and twisted her blond hair into a messy ponytail. “I like him. I'm not in love with him. It's not like I'm gonna marry him and have his babies.” She hesitated, a sly grin crossing her face. “Yet.”

  “Well, neither am I,” I said stubbornly.

  She burst out laughing. “Oh, please. You're an old married bag, Abby.”

  I swatted her leg. “What the hell? No, I'm not!”

  Tana's smile widened. “Yeah, you are. You guys have been inseparable since day one. We're all just waiting for the wedding announcements to come.”

  I shook my head, disgusted. “I'm not even twenty. There's no way in hell I'm getting married right now.”

  “Why not?” she asked, her eyebrows raised. “You love him, right?”

  I gave a slight nod of my head.

  “You wanna be with him, right? As in, forever? Settle down and buy a house and have little West babies?”

  I tried not to smile and nodded again. I did. I couldn't imagine my life, my future, without West. He was exactly what I needed and he was everything I wanted. But the word marriage sent me into a tailspin. Not because I didn't want that with him but because it felt like our future, not our present.

  She started humming under her breath, an old fifties song about going to the chapel. I swatted her again.

  “Shut up,” I said. “I'm not having babies yet and I'm not getting married. End of story.”

  SIX

  WEST

  I was a hot, sweaty mess.

  I peeled off my practice jersey and stripped off my baseball pants, leaving them in a heap on the locker room floor. I stepped out of my compression shorts and made my way to the showers, wanting nothing more than to wash the grime and sweat off my body. Practices were running three hours and the mild Aprils we'd all grown accustomed to had suddenly morphed into a record heat wave with Santa Ana winds blowing in from the east. I was pretty sure I'd dropped five pounds that afternoon. I'd sweated like a pig standing out in center field, the sun beating down on me.

  I twisted the cold faucet and water sprayed out of the shower head. I didn't bother with the hot water, stepping in and inhaling sharply as the cold droplets pelted my skin. I rinsed my hair and rubbed the bar of soap over my skin, scrubbing away the dirt and grime.

  Mark Watson stepped underneath the shower head next to me and turned the faucet. “Fucking hotter than hell out there,” he muttered. He played second base and was graduating that year.

  I just nodded.

  “You looked good out there, man,” he said. He reached for the soap and lathered it in his hands. “Tell me again what you're doing here.”

  He knew the reasons. Knew that I'd had a full scholarship at Arizona and knew that I'd walked away. Knew that I'd walked away from it for Abby.

  “Team's good,” I said, avoiding a direct response.

  He scrubbed his face, his eyes shut tight as he spoke. “Not as good as Arizona.”

  “Good enough,” I said. I turned off the water and reached for the towel I'd thrown on the bench. I rubbed at my face and my hair, then wrapped it around my waist, tucking in the end.

  “You ready for Cal?” Mark asked.

  I nodded. We were leaving the next day, another set of out-of-town games, hitting UC Berkeley first. It was something I knew cam
e with the territory but it didn't make me look forward to them any more. We had a fair amount of home games but it seemed like we spent more time on the road than in San Diego. And I hated it.

  “Gonzalez is good, man.” He switched off the water and stepped out of the shower, water pooling on the floor. He found his own towel and began a thorough pat down. “Better bring your A game.”

  I nodded again. “No shit.”

  I got dressed in a hurry, glancing at the clock mounted in the locker room as I pulled on a pair of clean basketball shorts. It was almost six o'clock. With any luck, I could meet Abby for dinner before we both needed to hit the books. I grabbed my keys and my cell and headed out of the gymnasium. The air was warm and dry, the sun a fireball of orange hovering over the distant ocean.

  I called Abby.

  “Hey.”

  Hearing her voice always made me smile. Always. “Hey yourself.”

  “You done with practice?”

  I pulled open the door to my truck and hopped into the cab. “Yep. You hungry? Want me to grab something to eat?”

  “I'm just finishing up at the office,” she said. “And I have a paper due tomorrow. Anthro.”

  I waited for a lull in traffic, then made a quick right out of the parking lot. “So, what are you telling me?”

  She sighed. “I don't know.”

  “Can you eat?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you eat with me?”

  She chuckled. “Yes.”

  “Okay. 'Cuz that was all I was asking.” I turned left on Balboa, headed toward Pacific Beach. The road was snarled with traffic. “What sounds good?”

  “Nothing.”

  I felt a flicker of irritation. “Abby.”

  She sighed. “I'm not trying to be difficult. Nothing sounds good.”

  “Not even In-n-Out?” I was a block away from the restaurant. And nothing sounded better right then than a double double.