Pause (Larsen Bros)

“My fuck buddy was great. A good friend. I never met anyone who had an unkind word to say about her,” he says. “But anytime she stayed the night, I wouldn’t sleep. Couldn’t.”

“You didn’t trust her enough to be asleep beside her?”

“I’d chosen wrong once. What if I choose wrong again?”

“No. Leif. You’re not going to choose wrong.” I sit up, clasping his hand in both of mine. My head might be spinning, but I am feeling all the things. My sincerity levels have got to be amped to eleven. “You need to stop being so hard on yourself. You’re a really great guy and you deserve to have someone special in your life if that’s what you want.”

He smiles. “Thanks.”

“Or a new sex friend if that’s your choice.”

“Thank you again. Your belief in me is appreciated and I’ll give it some thought.”

“You’re welcome.” Which gives me an idea. A really amazingly great one, actually. Quite possibly the best idea I’ve had in forever. Or at least today. Why it’ll fix both of our problems. Neither of us needs to be lonely or be feeling generally shitty. And the whole thing about us meeting due to the accident is important. Even Leif with his fears and neurosis about choosing wrong again has to know that I’m not out to infiltrate his life for whatever dastardly reason. As far as he’s concerned, I must be safe.

This will totally work.

And I can’t help but stare. His bottom lip is slightly larger than his top one, making for an intriguing and potentially delicious dichotomy. A pillow-like mystery I am determined to resolve. And I bet he tastes amazing. He looks like he’d taste divine. Honest to God, I’m like a child with her nose pressed against the window of a candy store, salivating over the man.

“What are you thinking?” he asks with a quizzical amused smile. It’s straight up bordering on flirty. I just know it.

Premarital eye contact. How outrageous.

The time has come to show don’t tell. Besides, how would I find the words to express this genius idea? Without another thought, I lean into him and press my lips to his, hard and insistent. Adoration and horniness are the names of the game.

“Anna,” he mumbles, mouth moving against mine in totally the wrong way. His breath is warm on my face and scotch scented. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” I mumble too. “We could both use a special sexual someone, right? Doesn’t this solve both of our problems?”

Ever so gently, he pushes me back. “Not a good idea.”

“No?”

“I think we’re better as friends.”

Oh, my God. Humiliation is mine, total and complete. “Okay.”

“It’s just that . . . you’re going through a lot right now and I think adding me to the mix would be a mistake.”

“Sure. That makes sense.”

His eyes are wide with panic. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not going to cry.” I sniff. “I’m just a bit embarrassed and quite possibly drunk.”

He pats me awkwardly on the shoulder. “You’re a very attractive woman, really.”

“Great. Thanks. Let’s just . . . I . . .” I trail off, because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing or saying. That’s the truth. What a disaster.

“Shit,” he says. “This isn’t working. Time to hug it out.”

And before I know what’s happening, I’m dragged onto his lap and caught up in a tight hold. Arms around me, Leif’s face pressing into my neck, the whole thing. I’m not sure who’s comforting whom here. He’s arranged me to his liking and the feeling of intimacy is nice. Confusing, but nice. I haven’t had anything like it in so long. The feeling of being safe and wanted and accepted. Even if he neither wants nor accepts me. Like I said, this is confusing.

“It’s fine.” A complete lie according to the tears flooding my face. The urge to run from this once more foreign and somewhat wild situation hits me in the gut. “Just a bit embarrassing. But yeah . . . I’m fine. I should probably go.”

His hold tightens. “No.”

“But—”

“You need to stop running away every time something weird happens,” he says, voice muffled, but stern. “It’s interfering with our friendship.”

A hand rubs circles on my back as if I were a child. It’s quite soothing. This man might just make a cuddler out of me because this is good. Damn good.

“My mouth made bad choices,” I sob.

“Shit happens, Anna. You just gotta let it go.”

I hiccup. “O-okay.”

“Deep even breaths, that’s it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he says. “You’ve been through a lot lately. Get it out. All of the tears and stress and everything.”

I sniffle. “Can I have some Kleenex, please?”

“Um. I only have toilet paper. Sorry.”

“There’s some in my purse.”

“Got it,” he says, depositing me back on the sofa. Then my purse is lifted off the floor and placed in my lap. Apparently Leif is a full-service-meltdown type of friend. Which is nice. I need all of the support I can get. It’s nice not to cry on my own for once.