“This isn’t helping! You’re supposed to tell me that messing around is the fastest way to send our friendship straight to Hell. That these urges are because of our proximity. That he doesn’t love me like that.”
“We’re talking about the same Antonio, right?” Her tone is full of sarcasm. “The fool who called me because he couldn’t reach you, who had a charger sent to the room? That boy loves you, and I’d bet he’s loved you for some time.”
“I like him, but I don’t want to get hurt. We’ve never been this way, and I’m afraid we’re going to ruin what we have.” I roll the toilet paper back and forth over the holder.
“If he only cared about sex, he wouldn’t still be at your house.” Marcela’s voice softens. “For someone like Antonio to dedicate time to you means you’re special—as he should! You fools havefallen asleep on the phone. You’ve kept a level of intimacy for years now. You said you’re open to dating. Whoop, there it is.”
The toilet tank’s cold porcelain digs into my back. “Our pairing would be illogical.”
“And yet, he’s your person.”
There’s a knock on the door. “You good in there, Doe? I can get you something for your stomach if you need,” Antonio says.
I bite back a smile. “I’m fine. I’ll meet you in the kitchen to eat.”
Marcela’s chuckle tempts my eyes to roll to the back of my head. “Don’t overthink it, Dr. Baby. I wish I had someone who cared about my guts after using his tongue to play with my stomach lining. Love can be scary when red flags aren’t smacking you in the face. Trust your instincts. You’ll do what’s right.”
“For the record, I had no intention of eating your pussy when I came over.”
I snort into my soup. Here I was trying to find a way to break the ice after Antonio had my legs reaching for the ceiling on this very table.
“I wanted to put eyes on you and talk. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
Oh, you did the opposite, friend.
I adjust my glasses. “It’s…We’re okay.”
He stares, deadpan. “You look like you’re ready to cook oxtails and run to the store for scratch-offs.”
After my call with Marcela, I went to change. I didn’t want any distractions for the conversation we needed to have. A muumuu was appropriate.
My “don’t touch me” outfit did nothing. Antonio is eyeing my ornate display of ruffles like I can get it with a promise to pay all of my bills.
He’s still in the Henley pulling across his chest and loose denim teasing those thighs. Hot and unbothered.
“More rice? Potato salad?”
The deep rasp of his chuckle forces my attention back to my plate. There aren’t enough sides on this table to mark me safe from his stare.
Antonio wipes the mouth he used to lick me clean. “Relax, Doe. I know what to do if I want seconds.”
He means the food.
I clear my throat and spear a bite of potato salad. “How was Seattle?”
“Seattle was good.”
“Oh nice. It must be beautiful. The parks and greenbelts.” I fiddle with one of the plants on the table, courtesy of the man across from me. The breath lodged in my lungs burns with every second that passes.
“Can—”
“I don’t want to lose what we have because our comfort keeps fueling these outbursts,” I say before my nerves take over.
My gaze slides over the spoon hovering inches from Antonio’s lips. “I was going to ask you to pass the potato salad.”
Oh.
“You think what’s happened between us is because of comfort?” His brow raises.
