I Don't: A Romantic Comedy

by Andrea Johnston

  “I felt like a fool the entire drive home. I was that woman a few months ago. Heck, I’ve been the first to stand up for female dancers in a “do you, girl” kind of way. But sitting there, watching you dance for another woman. Take your clothes off for her, it killed me, Luke.”

  “I was with Trenton for years and walked in on him a week before our wedding with another woman, and my reaction to that was only a fraction of what I felt last night. That made me realize something that had me drinking two bottles of wine last night.”

  Reaching my hand toward her, I place it on top of hers as she continues. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. Luke, I don’t think I can do this.”

  The silence between us is deafening. My heart is shattered into a million pieces before us, and as much as I want him to pick them up and put me back together, I know he can’t. I was broken long before Lucas came back into my life and know only I can put myself back together.

  I wish I was stronger than this. The tears are flowing like a faucet, and because I’m an all-in kind of crier, I have a minute, ninety seconds top, before my nose starts running and the hiccups kick in. I need to get him out of here before I lose all decorum.

  “I think we should just be friends. We’re good as friends.”

  Lucas doesn’t respond. Instead, he stares at me with pursed lips and a tense jaw. He’s intimidating sitting here next to me and as much as I’ve missed him, missed being near him these last few weeks, I need him to leave.

  “So,” I begin with gusto and a forced smile, “thank you for dinner, it was delicious. I’ll wash your containers and get those to you next week.” Rising from the couch, I turn to face him and for a brief second I think I see a small smile appear, but that can’t be. This is not a happy conversation. At least, for me it isn’t.

  Oh my goodness. What if I had all these feelings and this entire time he was planning on friend-zoning me? That would just take the fucking cake. Cake. I’m totally going to the store and buying a big fat cake as soon as he leaves. Last night was booze, tonight is carbs and sugar.

  My mind drifts to the various cakes I can purchase: carrot, red velvet, double chocolate fudge. Or I could buy a dozen cup—

  “Eep!” I shout as I fly through the air and land on Lucas’s lap.

  “No.”

  Drawing back, I look at him confused. “No?”

  “No. I do not accept this decision.”

  “Well, it’s not your decision to make. Please let me up.”

  “No.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “No,” he says a third time but this time with a grin. Bastard. His smile is ovary-ping instigating.

  “Do not smile at me, Lucas DeCosta. Yes. I am a mess, Luke. I knew I wasn’t ready to get into something. For fuck’s sake, I’m supposed to be married to another man right now.”

  “No.”

  “Jesus! Stop saying no.”

  I half expect him to respond with another ‘no’ but instead, he does the one thing that is sure to shut me up. The one thing that is the opposite of no and is absolutely the last thing he should do.

  He kisses me.

  With one hand on my thigh and the other buried in my hair, he tugs me to him. This kiss isn’t sweet or slow. It’s hard and fast. His lips are strong on mine, his grip is strong, and when he plunges his tongue in my mouth without warning, I fucking love it.

  Zing.

  Zang.

  Electricity.

  It.

  Every stroke of his tongue sends a bolt of desire between my legs. His hand glides up my thigh as my hand tugs on his hair. When he reaches the waistband of my pants, he hesitates before slipping his hand up my back, gliding across my bare skin to the clasp of my bra.

  I’m in the moment, I don’t think twice before shifting myself to straddle his lap, never breaking our kiss. With a leg on either side of his thighs, I lift myself up and nestle into his lap. The sounds that come from him as I do the move again send my mind spinning.

  Memories of the last time we were in this position hit me like a cold shower, but I don’t give in. Instead, I lean back, remove my glasses, and tug my tank top over my head. In only my red lacy bra and leggings, I draw my bottom lip into my mouth waiting for Lucas to react. I know how this bra makes my breasts look. The red is the perfect shade and the lace is sexy but still tasteful.

  I watch as Lucas glides his hands up my sides, stopping when his thumbs reach the underside of my breasts. The action sends a shiver up my spine. When his eyes lift, he stops at my lips before landing on my eyes. His look is full of fire and passion. Dirty thoughts evident in the way they twinkle, but it’s the smirk on his face that sends my heart racing. Whatever he’s thinking, I want it.

  Leaning forward, I capture his lips with mine. Slow at first, I convey everything I feel. Every emotion that is contrary to the speech I gave minutes ago. Lucas kisses me back. I could kiss this man, and nothing else, and be satisfied.

  I’m stunned when he stands, my legs wrapped around his waist, and deepens the kiss as he walks around the table and down the hall to my room. Never breaking our kiss, he walks through the threshold and kicks the door closed before walking to the bed.

  This scenario has played out in more than one of my fantasies. In each, Lucas slowly places me on the bed. He hovers over me and kisses me into the mattress tenderly. His hands roam my body until I beg him to make love to me.

  That was a fantasy. The reality is so much more. Lucas lays me down on the bed at an angle and kneels between my legs. Hovering over my body, resting his body weight on his elbows, he kisses me hard and fast before moving his lips to my ear and then my neck. Slow lingering kisses, licks, and nips on my shoulder have me squirming beneath him. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

  His hand tugs at the strap of my bra as his mouth trails the movement. When he tugs the cup of the bra down exposing my nipple, I watch as he lowers to the erect bud, flicking it with his tongue. Licking, sucking . . . worshipping. I can already feel an orgasm building and lift my hips for more friction.

  Our hands are everywhere on each other. His on my ass, lifting. Mine in his hair, tugging. Needing more of him, I lower my hands to the hem of his shirt and tug it up until he leans back and grips it from behind his head and tugs it off. Lifting up, I unclasp my bra and toss it to the side.

  “Fucking hell, Whit. You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

  Embarrassed, I turn my head to the side. Every woman wants to hear those words from the man they love, from the man they want to make love to them. It’s so much more coming from Lucas.

  “Don’t turn away from me, look at me.”

  Turning my head to face him, I can’t stop the tears that pool in my eyes.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. It isn’t because you’re naked before me,” he says, and I raise a brow. I’m topless not naked. “Oh, we’re getting naked.” I smile a little because even now, in this most intimate moment, he makes me want, no need, to smile.

  “Your beauty is more than physical. It’s here, here in your heart,” he says, placing a hand on my chest. “It’s in the way you love with everything you are and then some. God, Whitney you have no idea how amazing you are. How much you mean to me.”

  “Show me,” I whisper my permission.

  Without hesitation, Lucas scoots off the bed and grips my pants at my hips and tugs. His eyes widen when he realizes I’m not wearing panties. I shrug in response, which only makes the look on his face darken with desire.

  Once my pants are off and I’m completely naked, I lean up on my elbows to watch him stand and undo his belt after reaching into his wallet to pull out a small square packet. Tossing the packet on the bed, he drops his shorts. When his shorts hit the floor, I allow myself a moment to enjoy him in all his glory. Standing before me in a pair of fitted black boxer briefs is pure perfection. Lucas DeCosta is an Adonis. This may be the only time I see him like this, and I want the visual engrained in my memory for
life.

  His briefs rest just below the all-important muscles forming a “V” at his waist and are barely able to contain him. My eyes slowly skim his body one ab at a time, up his eight pack before stopping to appreciate his broad chest. But nothing compares to the hunger and desire in his eyes.

  Like a lion ready to pounce, Lucas licks his lips and slowly climbs back to the bed. Only, this time instead of placing his lips to mine, he places kisses on my inner thighs. A slight nip has me squirming. I know where he’s headed, and the desire I feel is evident. He places feather-light kisses along my skin before giving all of his attention to my most sensitive part and making love to me with his mouth. His licks are cautious and slow. My skin is on fire, burning for him. The build of my orgasm is quick, my hips rising to meet each thrust of his tongue.

  Gripping the comforter, I give in to the ecstasy as my orgasm overwhelms me. Lucas is relentless as he rides it out with me. While I catch my breath, I try to lift my arm to reach him, but it feels like a thousand pound weight. When I hear the telltale sounds of the condom wrapper opening, I open one eye to catch him watching me. Never feeling sexier, more desired, I lift my hands to my breasts, begging with my eyes for him to touch me.

  My reward is his mouth on mine, tasting myself on his tongue; desire once again pooling inside, I grip his hips to pull him to me. Not wasting anymore time, he slowly guides himself inside me. It’s been a long time, and I tense a little at the discomfort. Noticing my reaction, Lucas stops moving and kisses me gently. I rotate my hips a little, and he continues to fill me until he’s all the way in.

  Holding his weight off me with one arm, the other rises, his hand brushing wayward hairs from my face and looks me in the eye. Never breaking our eye contact, he begins to thrust and rotating his hips. Each movement hits me in just the right spot, and I feel another orgasm building.

  Moaning and begging, I hand over the rest of my heart to this man as a mind-blowing and life-altering orgasm hits me and I whisper, “Lucas.”

  His response is the last thing I expected to hear. “I love you.”

  This is the point in every romance book or movie that the couple declares their undying love and find their happily ever after. If my life were a movie, I would shed a single tear, Lucas would kiss me, and I’d tell him I love him too.

  My life isn’t a movie, and love is more complicated than that. There’s no perfect declaration ready on the tip of my tongue. I’m so conflicted with how to respond, the only thing I can think of is peeing so I don’t get a UTI.

  “Umm . . .”

  Excellent response, Whitney. You asshole.

  Less than impressed with my response to his declaration, Lucas rolls off me onto his back, forearm hanging across his eyes, and exhales. Instead of kissing him or telling him I love him too, I jump up from the bed like my ass is on fire and hightail it out of the room to the bathroom.

  In my defense, I have lived by one hard-pressed rule since college. Pee after sex. Take it from me, UTIs are a bitch. With that thought, I quickly use the bathroom before washing my hands. Standing before the mirror, I chance a look at myself. My hair is still damp, but the messy bun I had earlier is now a lopsided rat’s nest. My skin is flushed, and it’s obvious I’ve just been thoroughly fucked. Adjusting my hair, thoughts of the last hour play through my mind like a silent movie.

  No. We didn’t fuck. Lucas made love to me. Slow and tenderly. He didn’t need to say the words, I could feel his love with every movement. Then he said those words and put it all out there for me to pick up. And what did I do? I ran. Like a damn coward, I’m hiding in the bathroom. Naked. I don’t even know how long I’ve been in here. Seconds feel like minutes when I’m spiraling like this.

  Grabbing Jessi’s robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, I slip into it before exiting the bathroom. When I return to my bedroom, it’s empty. The bed is rumpled and the room smells like sex. Lucas is gone. My heart drops at the realization that he’s gone. But, isn’t that what I wanted? Needed? I glance at my alarm clock and realize I’ve been in the bathroom a lot longer than necessary, no wonder he left.

  Walking down the hall, I hear dishes clanking in the sink. Turning toward the kitchen, I stop in the entry when I see Lucas dressed and packing his cooler. He’s still here. He didn’t leave yet.

  “I’m sorry I freaked out.”

  Ignoring me, he continues to pack the cooler and set the lid on top when he’s done. Still not turning to face me, he stands with his hands on top of the cooler, face looking straight ahead to the wall.

  “Luke,” I whisper as I approach and place a hand on his back. When he flinches it’s like a punch to the gut. He’s hurt. I hurt him.

  “It’s fine.” His words are a sharp contrast to the tone he uses.

  “Let me explain.”

  When he turns to face me, the fire and passion I saw as he made love to me is replaced with hurt and sadness. I welcome the tears that fall from my eyes. I deserve it.

  “Please, Luke. I’m just . . . I lo—”

  “Whit, you don’t have to say it back. I get it. I moved too fast. I won’t apologize for loving you, because I do.” I gulp back the tears that are a fucking waterfall of my emotions. “I’m going to go. Give you the space you want.”

  When he steps up to me, his cooler in his hand, and places a kiss to my forehead, I melt. Forehead kisses are my undoing.

  Lucas is my undoing.

  But I don’t follow him. I stand in the kitchen, my back to the door as he walks out. I’m not sure if he’ll ever be back. I may have just let the greatest thing to ever happen to me walk away.

  At some point after Lucas left, I lay on the cold kitchen floor and cried. I know this because that’s where I am now with Jessi standing over me nudging me with her foot. One nudge. Two nudges. A small kick.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “No,” I mumble, never lifting my head from the floor.

  “Why are you in my robe?” she asks as she kneels down and sniffs.

  “You had sex.”

  Flying up from my position, we almost bump heads when I look at her wide-eyed. “How do you know that?”

  Shrugging she says, “I didn’t, but you’re in my robe and your hair looks like a family of hawks took up residency. Process of elimination.”

  I concede to her process of elimination and allow her to help me off the floor. Moving from side to side, I stretch my back and neck. A quick glance at the clock, tells me I’ve been on the floor for at least an hour.

  “From the looks of you, I’m guessing we need a talk. On a scale of a pint of ice cream to a bottle of tequila, where are we?”

  “Can we make a float?”

  “Ouch, that’s bad if we’re hitting both.”

  Instead of replying to her statement, I leave her in the kitchen while I go take a quick shower. Dealing with my hair in the morning is going to suck, but I don’t have it in me to mess with it now so I just remove the elastic band holding it up and pile it back on top of my head in a newer version of the rat’s nest it’s been all night.

  After quickly rinsing off the reminders of my night with Lucas, I dress in a pair of sweats and T-shirt before joining Jessi in the living room. My best friend is tapping wildly on her phone and quickly sets it aside when she spots me walking toward her. By the look on her face, I’m sure she’s texting Lucas trying to figure out what’s going on.

  “I’m not mixing dairy with my tequila so you’re on your own with that,” she says, motioning to the table where a bottle of tequila sits with a shot glass, a spoon, and a pint of cookie dough ice cream. Contemplating both, I opt for the sugar tonight.

  “Spill.”

  “He told me he loves me.”

  “And?” she questions with a spoonful of mint chip in her mouth.

  “You saw me last night. I can’t do it, Jess. I’ll wonder every night if he’s getting numbers. If he’s meeting women outside of the club and what he does there.”

  “I think you’r
e counting your eggs before they hatch.”

  “I don’t think that’s the saying.”

  “Whatever,” she says dismissively. “Whitney, you love him back. Why are you making this so difficult?”

  “Jessi, I am not making it anything. I’m being honest. I’m trying to handle this maturely.”

  “Is that why you had sex with him? To be mature?”

  Ouch. She’s not pulling punches.

  “I’m not trying to be a bitch, but seriously. Did you think sleeping with him was the answer? You’re in love with him, Whitney, but you’ve convinced yourself you can’t be in a relationship with him for whatever reason.” I begin to speak, but she cuts me off with a pointed look. Slinking back into my cushion and taking another bite of ice cream, I wait for her to continue.

  “Lucas is not Trenton. He isn’t the kind of guy who is going to cheat. And, so what if he is? You’ll never know if you don’t give the poor guy a chance. You’re cutting him off, and any chances of a future, just because you think he might do something one day.”

  Well, when she puts it that way . . . I so preferred wallowing in my self-pity. It was a lot easier when I could play victim and blame circumstances for my choices.

  “But I’m serious, Jess, I don’t think I can handle his job. It’s not because of Trenton. Seeing him last night was like a slap in the face with a big slab of reality.”

  “Then you talk to him about that. See if there’s a compromise somewhere. But, don’t give up on everything just because of a maybe.”

  We sit and eat our ice cream together while talking about anything but Lucas. After we both finish off our pints we head to our respective rooms. I have a long week of work ahead and since I hardly slept last night, I need to get as much as I can tonight.

  Settling into my bed and pulling the comforter up to my chin, I inhale the scent of Lucas and allow the guilt and conflict to smother me as I fall into a deep sleep. Maybe a new day will bring with it a new perspective.