Friendly Affections

Jack’s career in Columbus interesting. And by interesting, I mean terrible. But it could hardly be blamed on him. They were seen as a weak team, not holding any prominence in the league. And with a captain that was vying for a trade they truly were disrupted, from the inside out.
But I could see the way he worked with his teammates and how he was able to relate to each of them so personally. He knew all the guys, and they knew him. He was the new guy everyone took an instant liking to. I constantly pointed this out to him, hinting how great of captain he would make for them. He’d only brush it off with a short laugh.
When playoffs rolled around and Columbus’ season was done, it wasn’t much of a surprise when he was offered a roster spot on Team USA for World’s in Finland. And it was even less of a surprise when the rest of the players nominated him for the captaincy.
“See? I told you.” We were sitting on the couch in his living room, lounging before going out to late lunch with Kate. She’d also taken a quick liking to Jack, and seemed dead set on pushing him and I together. “Captain Jack. It fits you.”
He just shook his head in disagreement. “Don’t call me that.” He scoffed. “It reminds me of Pirates of the Caribbean.”
“Captain Jack? Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow. I guess that goes on the list of pop-culture references I’m not allowed to make about your name.” I teased him, while stretching my arms over my head, causing my shirt top ride up and show a sliver of my hip bones and stomach. I jerked it down immediately, self-conscious about my body, and hoping Jack hadn’t notice.
But the way his gaze was fix determinedly at the ceiling when I looked at him showed me he had seen, and I flushed. That always happened with us; we could talk endlessly with one another about any subject that crossed our minds, but the moment sexual desire entered the scene we both hushed up and felt awkward like turned on high schoolers in math class.
Jack cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You can put Captain Jack Sparrow on the list right under Singing Jack Johnson songs.”
I laughed, relieved the uncomfortable moment had past. “But that’s so much fun.” I hummed a few lines of Bubble Toes, just to agitate him. When he only rolled his eyes I began to actually sing aloud.
“Stop.” He threw a pillow in my direction that I dodged. I sang louder through laughter as he dramatically covered his ears. “Stop it. You can’t even sing. You have a terrible voice. Stop it!”
I belted out another line as he cringed away. I knew I couldn’t sing well, so I embraced it by singing anyway. He used one arm to pushed me off the couch and onto the floor, where I fell with a sudden thud. I stopped singing and stared at him with wide eyes. “You, John Joseph Louis Johnson III, are going to regret doing that.”
He chuckled. “Doubt it. You aren’t a very threatening person. Sorry.”
“I’m going to make you eat your words.” I snapped back, as I climbed back onto the couch beside him.
“What are you doing?” He crinkled his eyebrows together, when he saw how close I was sitting to him. “Stop it, you’re creepy. Seriously get away from me. Stop staring at me like that.”
What followed after that can only be described as me making a 6’1, 230 pound pro-hockey player cry with laughter while I tickled him mercilessly. He was only ticklish in one spot, but I had found it. I was not going to give up, I was getting my revenge for getting pushing off the couch. No matter how many times he tried to kick me away and grab my wrists, he failed.
“You’re...so...weird.” He breathed heavily, gasping for air once I finally fell back in giggles. He offered me a glare from where he was sprawled out across the floor. “You act like a twelve year old sometimes.”
“Only around you, it’s just an effect you have on me.” I answered, still fighting laughter as I looked across to him where he was sprawled out on the floor. His hair, which I argued had grown to long, was a mess, his navy tee-shirt was rumpled, and he was still looking up at me with an irritated expression.
He groaned, and I stopped laughing as a shock of desire hit me between the legs. It always happened that way; every time he moaned or groaned in the typical I’m-Jack-I-and-want-to-complain-about-everything fashion I instantly, and often unintentionally, imagined him making those noise with his face pressed into my neck, while lying together twisted up in a set of sheets, sweating and naked.
In the moment, I hadn’t notice how close he and I had been while I tickled him. I moved myself off the floor and sat down on the couch, drawing my knees up my chest and shutting my mouth. Silence ensued, and he boost himself up on his elbows to focus on the television as the weatherman read the reports for the following week.
I studied him lay out across the floor, legs stretched forward and torso long and lean. And I found that the more studied, the greater the ardor was to crawl on top him, tear his shirt from his body and kiss him from the collarbone down. I leaned back against the arm of the couch and closed my eyes. It was possible to be friends with someone you were attracted to, and not act on it. I knew that from personal experience, I followed it having known many attractive men at the same time I was in a deep and committed relationship with Mark.
But in his absence, there was still an unhappiness settled inside me. One that intensified when I fell asleep at night cuddled into a blanket or when I saw couples kissing on the street or even when I was with Jack and we would laugh and play together but I couldn’t bring myself to kiss him. The man I thought I would spend the rest of life with was no longer there to soothe my sadness, and the man I was with was attractive and amazing, but all I felt was friendship and sexual desire. Nothing deeper.
I wouldn’t let my body act on it’s desires while my mind knew it was a set up for heartbreak. Especially not when it was the heart of someone who I’d grown close too, who was steadily becoming an important person in my life. Throwing that away for a few nights of sex wasn’t worth it, no matter how amazing sex with a fit, pro-athlete might be.
I had to break the silence and force my thought to the back off my mind. “I have a question.”
“Question game?” He asked, not even turning from the television.
“Question game. Who was your first girlfriend?”
“Mallory Urbanski. Ninth grade.” He answered without any hesitation or doubt. “We dated for two months after I asked her to the homecoming dance, and then she broke up with me for the goalie on the varsity team.” He then tilted his head towards me, with a silly grin upon his face. “It’s scarred me for life.”
“My turn now.” He lifted himself off the carpet and onto the couch, parallel me. “Same question.”
“Mark.” I answered, and watched his eyes register the information with surprise and interest. “Okay, look. I was shy in high school, I didn’t date until college when I met him. He helped bring me out of my shell a bit.”
“Wow.” Was all Jack responded.
“Yeah. Well. I haven’t always been the bright, vivacious person I am now. I was, at one time, an awkward teenager with acne, a bad hair cut died bleach blonde and braces. Not to mention gangly in some places and fat in others.” I defended. Who wasn’t a little bit ashamed of their appearance in high school?
“You were blonde and had braces? Are there pictures?” He teased me. “I bet Kate has some.”
I laughed. “Nope, I burned them freshman year of college. And stop asking questions! It’s my turn.”
“You’re a question game nazi.” He brought his leg unto to the cushions with us and stretched them out straight. I did the same, even though mine where shorter and sandwiched between his and the sofa.
“I follow the rules, huge difference. Okay, first kiss?”
“...Mallory Urbanski, ninth grade, homecoming dance.” I rolled my eyes at him, but he only raised his eyebrows, bemused. “How about you?”
“You’re not very creative at thinking of your own questions, are you?” I crossed my arms and tilted my head for the right amount of sass, but only received an expectant face. “Fine. Tommy Caughorn in seventh grade.”
“Not Mark?” Jack questioned, with mild disbelief. “I figured he was your first everything, since you were the shy little misfit before college.”
Jack was right about Mark being the first boy I dated, fell in love and had sex with. “Ha, no. Tommy kissed me for a stupid junior high game at a birthday party. I’ve secretly regretted it ever since.”
“That doesn’t count!” He exclaimed. “C’mon, every kid knows that. A stupid little peck because of spin-the-bottle doesn’t count as your first kiss. It was to be voluntary.”
“You’re such a twelve year old. And it wasn’t spin-the-bottle,” I shot back acidly. “It was Seven Minutes in Heaven. And it wasn’t a little peck.”
“Ooh, hot in heavy in the hall closet, behind some coats. That’s romantic. What happened?”
I debated for a moment telling him the story, not wanting to give him leverage over me in embarrassing childhood stories. “I wasn’t exactly sure what to do, so when he shoved his tongue in my mouth I kind of just...stood there. It wasn’t until he started groping my boobs that I reacted by kneeing him in the balls and running out of the closet six minutes to early and absolutely hysterical.”
Jack’s whole body shook as he laughed. “I think we now know why you couldn’t get a boyfriend in high school. All the boys were probably scared of getting kicked in the goods if they went near you.”
“Shut up, asshole.” Was the only reply I could manage, before I dissolved in giggles along with him.
“Hey nazi, next question’s yours.” He told me, his eyes on mine, waiting.
With our gazes connected, I took a leap of faith. I damned all my previous precautions to the wind because I wanted him, and I wanted him bad. I needed to know if it was mutual.
“Jack,” I started. “Who was the last person you kissed?”
His eyes, never leaving mine, he answered. “I don’t remember. It’s been awhile.”
Free falling from the leap I had taken, I leaned in, wrapped the front of his shirt in my hands and pulled his face within inches of mine. “Let me fix that.” my words were soft, as I pressed my lips to his.