14:45 Sam:whatever you want, although I’d omit the spanking. That is not elemental to the story as it pertains to them.
When she didn’t respond for a few minutes, I dashed into the shower to wash away the dust and grime from woodworking. I didn’t worry, figuring she got pulled into a conversation or started playing with a niece or nephew.
I left my phone nearby to listen for a new message, but nothing came through until I was dried off and stepping into a pair of jeans.
15:09 Tiel:and that’s what makes me sad.
15:09 Tiel:I know you’re going to have some smart ass remark like I should mention that I like a good spanking but that’s not what I mean
15:10 Tiel:I don’t know where I stand with you sometimes. That’s probably super random to you right now but I can’t stop thinking about it
15:10 Tiel:Are we friends or more than friends or just a game that you’re playing or a weird part of your life where you figure shit out. Or some quick thing that’s going to blow over in a few weeks. Or more. Or nothing.
15:11 Tiel:I don’t know what I mean to you, if I mean anything.
15:12 Tiel:And I hate all of that, and I hate saying this.
15:14 Tiel:I hate being that needy girl who has to know what’s going on but I’m here and you want me to tell my parents about you but I don’t know what we are
Swallowing back the tension rising in my throat, I started responding to Tiel’s messages but knew I couldn’t get it into a text. Deleting it all, I tapped the icon beside her picture—the one from September, where she was sitting on the grass, wearing that smile that always brought out mine—and called her.
“Please don’t freak out,” she said. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember who I am when I’m here, and all I want is some definition and structure. I’m in a terrible mood and being bratty. Rant, over.”
“How long have you been ruminating on that?” I asked. She made a non-committal sound and I heard a screen door bang shut. “Just tell me.”
“I don’t know. Maybe since always?”
Aggravation bit at my nerves, but I pushed it all down. She managed to unleash every thought in her head on most occasions, but never mentioned the one thing that was truly bothering her. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
There was wind rustling in the background and I caught an occasional hum or murmur, but minutes passed before she responded. “Because you’re a weirdo and I like that shit. You’re my friend, one of my best friends, and if nothing else, I didn’t want to push away my best friend because I needed to know what it meant now that we’re sleeping together. I’ve always wanted a lot more than you did, but I didn’t want to tell you that and ruin things.”
Well, shit.
I’d been operating under the assumption Tiel wanted casual. Everything about her was casual, all the time, and she eschewed every other label under the sun. She’d even told me she didn’t necessarily like the term ‘violinist’ because she played ‘a little bit of everything.’
And she’d wanted a lot more than I did? Yeah, I would have appreciated hearing about that much sooner. She freaked out when I offered to convert the showers to her practice space. She thought I wanted her to move in with me—it didn’t sound like a bad idea, but it wasn’t what I’d intended to say—and promptly dove into panic mode. If she wanted more of me, I wasn’t averse to offering. “Can I tell you what I’m thinking?”
“Can’t you always?” she asked.
If I had known . . . shit. I probably would have fucked it up somehow.
Simply put, she was unlike any other woman I’d ever met. Sure, I picked up the generalities, but there were so many more quirks I was only beginning to understand. It was obvious that this—the definition of us—was her cornerstone, and until it was square, we couldn’t build anything else. And I was the asshole who hadn’t put those pieces together until now.
But it killed me that she didn’t mention it the other night at dinner when I straight-up told her I wouldn’t be a lying dick like her ex-husband. There were a lot of names I’d willingly accept, but cheater wasn’t one of them. Instead, she waited until she was seven hours away, and the best I could do was talk her down while I thought about spanking her and begging her to love me for eternity.
“More,” I said, pressing my palm to my crotch to alleviate the pressure there.
“More?” She sniffled and blew out a breath. “More what?”
More of my cock inside you, fucking this silliness away and promising our forever,I thought. Probably not the right thing to say. There was honesty and then there was word vomit, and I needed to keep a handle on the latter.
“We’re more than friends, and I don’t want this to blow over,” I said. “I want this to last. Believe me when I say that, Tiel. We have no idea what we’re doing and we’re probably going to screw up along the way, but . . . we can figure that all out. I want us to be the people who figure it out.”
“Last for a little while?” she asked. “Or last for a long while?”
I’ll last as long as you want me,I thought. Also, not the right thing to say.
“A long while,” I said. “If that’s what you want.”
