Every Saturday Night (Firsts and Forever 6)

It wasn’t news to me that he and I were very different people, but that bit of information really drove the point home. If we ever became a couple—not that that would happen in a million years—we’d never even see each other, since we kept opposite schedules. I left those observations unsaid, though.

Instead, I indicated the completed chess board and said, “Go first. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He grabbed a pawn and moved it to the center of the board, and I said, “You’ve already lost.”

He laughed and exclaimed, “That’s not true!”

“Yes, it is.”

“There’s no way you could know that based on one move.”

“Sure I do, and here’s how—you didn’t think about that at all, you just grabbed any pawn at random. That move alone obviously isn’t enough to lose the game, but it tells me you’re reckless and don’t really stop to consider the big picture.”

He wrinkled his nose, which I thought was very cute. Then he said, “Just for that, I’m actually going to try. Prepare to lose.”

“Good luck with that.”

We took a few turns, and he rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. All you’re doing is playing the French defense,” he complained. “Where’s the excitement and creativity in that?”

“A ha! So, you’ve studied chess, are aware of how to win, and choose not to follow established, proven strategy because it goes against that whole Rebel Without a Cause thing you’ve got going on.” I drew circles in the air as I said that to encompass his look and attitude.

He sat back and smirked at me. “Is that all you think I am, some kind of James Dean wannabe? A dimensionless caricature?”

“Far from it.”

“Uh huh.”

It seemed like I might have insulted him, so I said, “I already know you’re a lot of things, Lucky. For starters, you’re a gifted, creative artist who produces beautiful creations.” I gestured at the two completed bikes as I said that. “You’re both stubborn and highly intelligent, which shows in your chess game. You’re also one of the best friends anyone could have, which I learned because of the diner, and you’re a devoted son, which is why you tolerate the slow-motion chess games with your dad, even though they drive you nuts. In fact, you probably don’t try very hard and let your dad win on purpose, just to spare his ego. You’re actually fascinating, Lucky, and I really hope I see you again after tonight, because there’s so much more about you that I’d love to discover.”

When I finally shut up, there was vulnerability in his dark eyes. Maybe I’d gone too far. Not everyone appreciated being scrutinized like that.

But then he surprised me by saying, “It’s up to you, of course, but I’d really like to try kissing you again.”

“Okay.” I could hear the nervousness in my voice, just in that single word.

He moved the chessboard to the table before sliding closer. His fingertips traced a path down my arm, and he took my hand as his lips brushed mine. It was tender. Sweet.

And then it caught fire.

I’d never known it was possible for a kiss to convey so much. It was an intoxicating blend of need and sex, give and take, emotion and instinct.

We grabbed onto each other as the kiss deepened and intensified. I ended up climbing on him, and then he rolled us over so he was on top. The way he pinned me under him made it even better. How could surrendering control feel so liberating?

Both of us were hard, but I couldn’t quite deal with that yet, not when every bit of this was so new. For now, it was enough to kiss and be kissed while my world shifted and realigned.

Lucky had good instincts and knew when to stop. He climbed off me and leaned against the arm of the couch, and then he held his hand out to me. It felt so good when I settled in beside him and put my head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me.

He kissed my forehead before murmuring, “You’re so sweet. What am I going to do with you?”

“Invite me back next weekend and fuck me?”

“If you think you’ll be ready for that, then yes. Absolutely. Otherwise, we could also just hang out.”

After a pause, I asked, “Did you start kissing me just to shut me up? I know I tend to talk too much in certain situations. It’s funny, most people think I’m really quiet. But when I feel comfortable with someone, look out.”

“Why would I want to shut you up? What you were saying was great. It made me feel like you really saw me, instead of just what’s on the surface. Most people don’t look that closely.”

“They don’t?” When he shook his head, I put my arm around him and said, “Then they’re really missing out.”

He held me tighter and sighed. “You have to stop being so sincere and adorable. It’s totally disarming. I feel like I’ve forgotten how to act suave, or charming, or witty.”