“You didn’t have to do all that,” she says. “But, I won’t lie, I’m very happy you did. Today was worse than yesterday.”
“Okay, how about you go change and the food can finish cooking while we smoke?” I hitch my thumb in the direction of the stove. She nods and disappears down the hallway.
When she returns wearing men’s boxers for shorts and a big T-shirt with a frog playing a violin on it, my chest flutters like I might puke. Boy, is she pretty. She left her hair down and wild over her shoulders. It was slicked back in a very professional bun before. I imagine it would feel nice to let it loose after that. Like taking off your bra. Or scratching your balls. Of course, I can personally relate to only one of those things.
“You head to the sunroom. I’ll be right there with everything,” I say, turning to check on her food.
She takes her glass and heads through the door. I pull the small dish of teriyaki from the stove and set it on the counter to cool. Then I grab the small tin with the joint inside and follow after her.
“Your dinner is just cooling down,” I say, adjusting the filter between my lips. I flick my lighter and suck, then exhale and pass it to her.
Maybe this could be a regular thing for us. Sunroom smoke sessions does have a nice ring to it. It’s been a while since I had a roommate I actually wanted to chill out with who also wanted to in return. I don’t know if it would be the same witha male roommate, though. Or any other roommate besides Lyric, if I’m being honest.
I sit back onto the couch beside her, the weight of my body causing her to dip toward me, but neither of us fight it. Her left leg is pressed firmly against my right, so I put my arm across the couch behind her. Lyric falls naturally into the space next to me, and I get a whiff of her hair. It smells like coconut and a very bad decision I made one time.
She takes a long hit from the joint and passes it to me. If I didn’t know any better, I would say she’s purposely leaning into me now. I hold it between my fingers and press it to my lips slowly. And she’s watching me. But I know her and I know that look. She’s practically salivating.
Is she closer than she was to me a minute ago? Her mouth definitely feels closer. I inhale from the joint again, pausing for a moment as I look at her. She parts her lips without looking away. I exhale toward her, shotgunning the smoke into her mouth. She inhales and then blows out. And we’re still looking at each other.
Fuck, this is what happened last time. Something happens to me when she’s around. I turn into a solid combination of desperately horny teenager and afraid-of-commitment man who leaps over tall buildings and every relationship he’s ever had.
“Remember when we almost hooked up?” she asks, but then she keeps going before I can answer. “Well, it occurred to me that maybe it didn’t go the way it could have because we didn’t set any terms or define what we thought was happening.”
Her remark getsthe better of me. “Go on.”
“For example, I was just thinking, wouldn’t it be nice if—as roommates, of course—we provided each other with orgasms?” she says, taking the joint from my hand.
“Excuse me?”
“Think about it. I prep some meals, you roll us some joints, and should either one of us need it, we could put orgasms on the table as a roommate perk as well?” She’s sitting up straighter now, clearly proud of this idea of hers.
“You’re suggesting friends with benefits?” I ask, seeking to clarify.
“Roommates, but yes,” she says. “Listen, I’m not one of those girls who’s shy about what she needs when it comes to sex. We’re friends, we get along. I think it’s a great idea.”
I think this is a terrible idea. There’s a reason everyone says friends with benefits never works. Because it doesn’t. But then I remember kissing her last year. Brief as it may have been, it was a damn good kiss. And there’s a reason they say you can tell everything from that first kiss too. Because you can. It would be so very good.
“We can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “We shouldn’t.”
“You’re sure about that?” she asks, her lips now so close to mine that I could stick out my tongue and it would touch her.
“Not really, but I seem to recall you said no hanky-panky, so I’m just trying to abide by the rules set forth previously.”
“But—” The sound of my doorbell interrupts her next argument as to why we should descend into chaos.
I look at the door and then at her. “Are you expecting someone?”
“If I were, would I be trying to convince you to fuck me?” she says plainly.
I choke as I swallow, getting up from my seat. Christ, I need some space. Perhaps sitting so close was a bad idea. “Fair point. You probably would’ve mentioned that.”
The doorbell rings again, which is annoying. At least give me time to respond before hitting the damn button again. Swinging the door open, I find a very frazzled Ridge.
“Ridge? What’s up, man? Is everything okay?” I step aside and let him in, then shut the door behind him.
“Yeah, uh, everything is fine. Mostly. All good. Is Lyric here?”
“What’s wrong?” she asks from the sunroom doorway.
