“No, it’s always been you,” he insisted. “Remember when you said you were mad at me for stealing your date or asking for her number or whatever I did? I told you that you got it wrong. I didn’t want her to have you. Get it?”
“No.”
“I was jealous, G. I wanted you.” He pounded his chest like a gorilla in the wild. “I didn’t know it, though. I mean, I knew I felt something. I always had. But I didn’t think it was…you know…”
“Sexual?” I offered.
“Yeah. Or maybe I did know, and I buried it. Maybe I wasn’t ready. But I am now. And being here with you feels pretty fucking amazing. So maybe we shouldn’t worry about what comes next.” He rolled on top of me and pinned my arms above my head. “We already wrote the rules. We said, be yourself, don’t overthink, keep it simple and straightforward and—”
“Private.”
“Right. It’s just us here. Party of two. No one else is invited.”
I closed my eyes briefly when he kissed me. “Yes. And it should be noted that we can add rules and make amendments if needed.”
“Like what?”
“Sex is separate from friendship. We’ve already said to a degree, but I think it’s an important point. It doesn’t matter when the sex ends, you’ll still have to be my friend.”
“Always,” Aiden replied, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You never have to worry about that.”
I smiled at his affectionate tone and laid my head on his chest. I didn’t necessarily think it would be that easy, but I hoped so.
Life was complicated enough.
7
George
Our baseball “date” marked the beginning of a three-week sexathon. Ninja-style. Here’s how it went down.
After leaving my bed at four a.m., Aiden came by the house Saturday morning to work on Willy. I brought him coffee and a bagel with cream cheese, then sat on the stoop and chatted with him while he got dirty with the inside of my engine. When he stepped into my space and said he needed to go to the parts store, I took the hint and volunteered to join him, hoping we’d end up at a sexier location.
Aiden didn’t disappoint. He whisked me to the other side of town to an ancient-looking apartment complex and parked under a carport covered with brilliant red bougainvillea. We speed-walked through narrow pathways lined with succulents and decorative rocks, stopping in front of apartment 12A.
I took a cursory glance at my surroundings, noting that his place was a quintessential man cave, complete with a cushy, worn leather sofa and a ginormous flat-screen TV. Two barstools were tucked under the counter opposite a galley-style kitchen. It was small but clean and relatively tidy.
The second he closed the door, we were all over each other. Clothes flew on our way to the bedroom. We toppled onto his king-sized bed, desperately clinging as we humped like wild rabbits. At some point, Aiden suited up and climbed between my legs. The look of wonder on his face as he gently pushed inside made me feel like a rock star. He was reverent and careful, then ardent and passionate. He held me close, pumping his hips double time in a race to the finish line.
We laughed at the mess we’d made afterward, sucking in oxygen as if we’d just run a marathon. Then we’d start talking and as always, our conversation turned to odd topics, like the finer points of making a turkey sandwich and how many ice cubes were required for the perfect iced coffee. When our debates became too ridiculous, we found our way back to the beginning with deep, hungry kisses and the urgent slide of skin on skin.
We pressed Repeat the next day. And the day after that.
Any reservations I had about us seemed irrelevant. I’d never had a lover who was my friend too and I had to say, it was so damn…nice.
Funny enough, my current bout of major infatuation gave me a fresh perspective. No, I definitely hadn’t become a dating expert overnight, but I genuinely wanted to help Newton. It wasn’t lost on me that we were going through a version of the same thing. Discussing Aiden’s suggestions with Newton was enlightening.
And since he was the only one who “kind of” knew I was in a “sort of” relationship, I actually looked forward to hearing his point of view.
“How’s the small talk going, Newton?”
“Swimmingly,” he enthused, rubbing his paws together gleefully. “I’ve timed my attempts at light chatter in the early morning hours over coffee in the break room and a more active confabulation in the parking lot after lunch or before Susie departs for the day.”
“O-kay…” I tapped my pen on my desk as I swiveled to face him.
“Never the same topics, nor times. I want each discourse to feel like a breezy chance encounter. Per your instructions. I’ve even used a few of your topic choices. We spoke about breakfast foods yesterday after work and odd pets we’d like to own someday and their mercurial habits over coffee this morning. Great ideas, George!”