“Good.” He made it as if to stand up, but I wrapped my arms around his chest. I wouldn’t let him run away from me and what had just happened. “No more fires, understood?” He pointed a finger at me. “My hearts can’t take the thought of you being in danger.”
“Okay.”Was he going to pretend he didn’t just raise the bar for my sexual experiences?“Sorry about the couch.” I’d give him a moment, but I had an idea how to make him talk without destroying any furniture.
“I needed a new one, anyway. Help me pick it and it might come before Christmas.”
Let’s hope I will come many more times before Christmas too.
“Why did it behave like a sinner in a church?” I pointed to the middle cushion.
“Someone spilled vodka on it once.” He pulled several blankets from the large footstool and spread them on the floor. “Stay here and don’t set anything else on fire.” He covered my shoulders with another fluffy blanket.
“I’ll try.”
He wasn’t mad and didn’t seem to regret the mindblowing fuckeroo. That was a good start.
Except him acting like nothing had changed between us was getting on my nerves. If sacrificing the couch wouldn’t make him talk, I’d have to strut around naked and wait for him to scold me or fuck me. Anything to make him address that we’d ventured beyond friendship.
He opened the windows in the living room and kitchen, letting in chilly winter air. “The smell will linger for a while. I’ll take the couch downstairs tomorrow and call for a collection.”
“I’ll clean the mess.” I stood up from my blanket nest and headed to the bathroom for some protective gear while Marin pulled out the vacuum for the extinguisher powder.
Chapter Seven
Kert
An hour later, we sat on the blanketed floor amongst the chaos of cushions. Our clothes were churning in the washing machine that probably wouldn’t get the burnt smell out in the first wash, and our hair was still wet from showering.
Separately.
I changed into an oversized t-shirt with back-and-white pictures of four artists: Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello, and Raphael, wearing eye masks in blue, purple, red, and orange colors. I’d been snagging all the punny ones from Marin’s closet. Whenever I wore his clothes, he would pretend he didn’t notice but the small smile on his lips and the way his gaze lingered onmy bare legs were worth being a bit cold from not wearing any pants around the house.
Besides, he strutted around in sleeveless shirts or bare-chested, wearing only loose sweatpants whenever we lunged on the couch. The cock imprint was mighty.
The same as it was now. Marin sat cross-legged, munching on the gyros he’d made for us. I’d like to think I helped, because making tea while he was preparing food totally counted. The bowl of his tzatziki dip stood on the floor between us, making it feel like we were on a living room picnic. If it were, I was sure Marin would make it equally romantic. I swayed to the gentle music, as Frank Sinatra sang about New York through the speakers Marin had connected to his phone, recalling the days he’d play his oldies playlist for studying.
Biting into my gyros, I moaned. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back and run a restaurant?” I asked with my mouth full. “Cause you’re damn good at food stuff.” I chewed thoroughly, imagining Marin in the kitchen wearing an apron and nothing else. “But you’d waste your talent for painting. Is it hard being so perfect?”
He threw a slice of cucumber at me. “Shut up. I’m a mess.”
I laughed until my eyes teared up. “You’re funny. Talented, sexy, and humble. Well, at least now, you’ll sleep with me.”
“What?” The panic in his expression was not a good sign.
I motioned to the charred spot on the cushion. “The couch is toast and the bed is big enough for the two of us.”
“It’s a bad idea, Kert.” He wrapped his lower tentacles around his waist and crossed the upper ones over his chest.
I took his hand and squeezed it. “Why?”
“Kert, I—” Marin shook his head and pulled away.
I set my food aside, and aimed for a gentle tone. “You know that you’re my best friend and you can tell me anything, right? You don’t have to avoid whatever it is you’re trying not to spitout. You can’t ignore what just happened between us.” I pointed at the sucker marks on my upper thighs, the sight alone heating my cheeks.
Marin massaged his temples with his tentacles and let out a long sigh. “I’m pan.” He cleared his throat. “Pansexual.”
I blinked. My brain whirred like an old hard drive. So he hadn’t been experimenting with that kiss? His tone meant this was no awakening. He had it all figured out.
He shot to his feet and paced the room, his tentacles floating in the air like panicked snakes. “This is why I kept my trap shut. Kert, say something!”
