Je t'aime, tu sais?

Jamie slyly raised her eyes from the back of a package of men's razors, made eye contact with Patrice, innocently sipping on the straw of his slushie, and burst into laughter again, covering her mouth with her hand and closing her eyes in hysterics.
Patrice did the same, pressing his fingers hard into his lips to keep the blue, cold liquid from seeping out as he laughed, and turning away from his girlfriend, unable to control himself.
Jamie tossed the razors back into their steel holding, shaking her head, chuckling. They had been inconspicuously browsing the facial care aisle of a local grocery store for ten or so minutes, taking turns attempting to casually stroll into the family planning aisle that ran perpendicular to the aisle they were presently in to pick out condoms. Neither were composed enough to do it though, somewhat naive and too shy to just execute a plan. Instead, they took turns, each building their confidence to nonchalantly lead the other into the aisle and successfully engage in a discussion about which brand they wanted, with what assets, and to pick a package out and add it to their cart, only to fail miserably at leading the charge when it was their turn.
She felt his arm wrap around the back of her neck, his thick navy wool sweater warm around her shoulders.
"I've never seen you so embarrassed and giggly, my bookworm" he laughed, offering her a sip of his slushie.
"I cannot believe you wanted one of these," she said, taking him up on his offer and stealing the cardboard cup from him. For a moment he looked worried, as if she wouldn't return it. She took a sip, puckered her lips at the sicky-sweet iced liquid and handed it back to him.
"My mom always used to get me these when I was sick; she'd tip my head back and I'd get to sit in the cart, y'know, in the space for little kids," he said, gesturing to their cart and the seat in the front that held Jamie's purse. "And while we shopped she'd tip my head back and poor the slushie down the back of my throat with the straw. Felt so good," he remembered, smiling, running a hand down his throat.
"Come on you goof," she said, grabbing his hand and marching into the family planning aisle with a spur of the moment burst of confidence.
They stood in front of the boxes of brands of condoms and awkwardly stopped holding hands. Silent, they just kind of stood there, their body temperatures each rising respectively, and their cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
After a few moments of silence, they caught one another looking at each other and burst into a fit of giggles again. Jamie tried to spin around and march off, but Patrice caught her by the wrist and spun her back into his side.
He put his arm around her. "No, come on," he chuckled. "We're big adults here, we can do this."
"It's just so cliche," she moaned, laughing, burying her head into his side.
"Just... I dunno. Tell me what you like," he said, shrugging. His hand moved up and down her arm, comfortingly.
"I dunno..." she giggled, biting her lip and looking up at him. "What do you like?"
"No, you can't do that," he laughed, shaking his straw at her and looking away.
She made a sound of protest and thumped him on the chest. "Do what?!"
"You can't ask me what I like, while I'm already thinking about doing things with you, and then look up at me and bite your lip," he said defensively in jest. "It's just not fair."
Jamie laughed, blushing, unable to stop biting her lip now, so she raised her fist and held it in front of her lips, looking up at him mischievously.
He felt a bit old to be getting the giggles while condom shopping at 25, but to be honest, he hadn't really gone condom shopping in a long while. Whenever he had bought them in the past, he had just cruised by the aisle and tipped one in his cart, not even stopping to examine it; they had always been preventative just-in-case kinds of condoms, and he always went with the Trojan teal blues ones, which Recchi had told him about, for the extra birth control mechanism. You could never be too careful, he thought.
But this was different.
This was more than condom shopping. He and Jamie, as immature as they were kind of acting at the moment, were sharing something very intimate, very personal with one another. They were both reserved individuals, who rarely gave into temptation, who rarely were extroverted with their wants and needs, and here they were, picking out condoms.
They were saying: yeah, we're doing this stuff together. Yeah, I want you to feel this way, I want to make you feel this way. I like this with you; I want more of it.
And it was fun.
And he felt safe.
For the first time in his life he was buying condoms not to be sure he had a barrier between himself and whomever was able to finesse their way into his apartment and somehow lure him into bed; instead, he was buying them to protect Jamie from pregnancy, to ensure she was feeling all of the things she needed to. He was buying them to share such an experience with someone--someone he was crazy about, someone who he couldn't stop thinking about, fantasizing about, loving; he was buying them for them.
"Uhm..." Jamie's thinking aloud brought him back to reality. "These are the ones you have already, yeah?" She said, pulling the teal box off of the shelf to show him.
"Yeah, I get those because of the... extra..." he said, awkwardly pointing to the yellow, capitalized writing that exclaimed "Now with spermicidal lube!"
"Smart," she remarked, setting the box back down.
"It's nice to have a double method, I think," he tried to justify.
"No, no," she responded quickly. "I agree."
They awkwardly continued to browse.
"I'm on the pill, y'know," she said quietly, examining a "Pleasure Pack." He took a gulp of his slushie in efforts to cool his rising body temperature as his eyes found words like "tingle," "sensational," "ribbed," and "heated lubricant." He wasn't sure what they all meant or how they'd feel but he was having some kind of physical response to them.
"Yeah?" He asked, itching his forehead with the brim of his trucker hat. "No one really ever explained that to me; I don't really know how it works," he confessed.
She sat the pleasure pack back on the shelf and licked her lips. He firmly placed his hat back on his head, anticipating a response. She slowly moved a few paces down the aisle, out of the condom section. She grabbed a tube and looked up at him out of the corner of her eye and bit her lip.
He bit his.
"It means you don't really need condoms," she said, handing him a bottle of spermicidal lube. "So, there's your two methods."
His knees felt weak.

Patrice stamped his foot, grimacing. He shoved Jamie his newly refilled slushie and held his hands in his head, swearing in a whisper.
Jamie couldn't help but laugh at him.
He was so adorable and she didn't know if it was him just being at his home or all of his childhood pictures she had looked at this morning before they left that made her see him in such a boyish light today. He was in black Timberland boots that pushed up the cuffs of his khaki pants with their strong tongues, with a thick, wool, navy colored sweater, outfitted with a down winter vest, black with navy shoulders. He also insisted on wearing a black and white trucker hat he had found in the back seat of Guill's F350 they had borrowed for the night that had a navy blue Ford logo printed on the front of it.
"I thought maybe if I gave myself a brain freeze my mind would stop wondering," he grimaced, adjusting his hat and reaching for his slushie again.
"And where was your mind off to?" Jamie asked, pushing their cart full of groceries towards the produce aisle.
"Somewhere inappropriate; involving you, of course" he winked, lacing his arm around her shoulder and kissing her hair. She loved how with their new label they were much more affectionate on a regular basis; they got to hold hands, kiss, and touch each other's arms, rub each other's backs in front of people. She loved it.
It had been exactly what she had wanted.
They had left after Jamie made her famous Swedish pancakes for the Bergeron-Cleary's for breakfast and helped clean up the kitchen. Sylvie had planted the sweetest kiss on her cheek and she even received a hug from Gerard. They had borrowed Guill's truck for the two hour hike up north to Station Blu for their spa night, courtesy of Patrice's friend and fellow entrepreneur Jacques, whom she would be meeting shortly.
Patrice spoke with him on the phone as they drove out of town, and he explained to him the situation at the spa. About half the rooms were modeled and ready for guests, as were all of the facilities, but for the time being, no one had been hired to service the place yet. Patrice and Jamie didn't mind, as they would have the place entirely to themselves for the day and the evening as soon as Jacques and Patrice were finished talking business. He said the kitchen was open but again, no one was working. He had some food up there for himself for when he'd stay to oversee building, but he suggested they do some grocery shopping on their way up unless they wanted to share a box of Wheathins and drink Coke Zero all night.
"I'm going t mik oo de best bacon wripped fillays oo've ver had," Patrice said, holding the rim of his slushie between his teeth as he held packages of raw meat in his hands, examining them.
"What's that, mon amour?" Jamie laughed, relieving his teeth of the cardboard cup.
"I'm going to make you the best bacon wrapped fillets you've ever hand," he said again, flashing her a grin before he pressed his lips into hers and tossed the steaks into their shopping cart.
She liked him a little cocky.

Patrice was beaming throughout their whole tour of Station Blu, not because he was finally getting to see the concept come alive, not because of the hot tubs, cold tubs, massage parlors, steam baths, and saunas that awaited him, not because he was more than comfortable enough financially to invest in the spa at his young age, not because of the amazing sex he and Jamie were about to share in what was literally minutes, and not because of the fabulous weekend off he was having, but because he had Jamie on his arm.
It was simple as that.
He introduced her to Jacques as his girlfriend Jamie, and since then, he'd been beaming. His fingers, bigger than hers, wrapped around her whole hand, and every once in a while she'd slide her thumb up and down the top of his. She was bundled up in her winter peacoat, her hand clutched tightly over her breast, holding her scarf in place. Whenever they stopped walking to discuss future plans or why Jacques chose a certain layout for the saunas, Patrice would wrap his arm around her shoulder and kiss her temple to help keep her warm.
Eventually, he pulled off his down vest and draped it around her shoulders and she walked alongside him with her arms tucked inside its body, giggling but warm.
They walked around outside, circulating the in-ground hot and cold pools, whirlpools and tubs, all with stone bottoms and steaming, melting the snow around them. Most of the rooms stood independently of one another around the pools, with big glass doors that opened out onto the outdoor porch and pools. Around the rooms were the woods, a stream running alongside within.
"And at night, the sky is alight with stars!" Jacques said excitedly, gesturing above.
"I bet its beautiful," Jamie sighed, bringing the hand she held of Patrice's to her chest. He looked to her and pulled his lips into a half smile, absolutely adoring her.
"What do you think, eh?" Jacques asked as he led them into the kitchen made entirely of stainless steel.
"I think it's amazing!" Jamie said excitedly. "And look here!" She said, gesturing to the kitchen. She looped her arms through the oversized vest's holes and wore it, neverminding how big it was.
"Gourmet chefs, too," he said. "Soon! Not yet, sorry guys," he chuckled.
"I'd hope so, look at this," Patrice said in awe, walking around the fully equipped kitchen. He slid his hand along the countertop, looking up to watch Jamie peek her head into the industrial sized refrigerator. He was impressed she had enough strength to open the large door, and laughed at her when she needed both hands to successfully shut it again.
"Oy!" She said, accusatorially pointing toward him from across the kitchen. "No laughing, jerk."
"Feisty," Jacques growled, generating more laughs.

With Jacques' handing over of the keys to Patrice and a few parting words, neither he nor Jamie wasted a millisecond in getting down to business.
She slammed him into the front door of their room as he fumbled the keys in his one hand, desperately attempting to slide the correct key into the lock and carry her away. Her hands wondered up and down the front of his khakis, soliciting moans from between his lips.
In a rush to unlock the door, his hand, contorted in a funny position, dropped the keys. At first Jamie didn't notice, and he desperately tried to obtain them again by fruitlessly moving them around in the snow covered front step with his boot but to no avail. He was beginning to sweat under his thick sweater, his blood raging through his veins and his mind becoming cloudy with testosterone and a blue-blooded need to satisfy the ache growing between his legs.
In agitated defeat, he grabbed Jamie by the waist and switched positions with her, so that he had her pinned up against the front door. Instead of reaching for the keys, he found himself unable to command his hands to do much of anything else besides grope at her chest and occasionally slide around her backside, impressed at the tight jeans spanning her ass.
"Open the damn door," she ordered, biting his lower lip, her laugh spreading her warm, sweet breath over his nose and cheeks.
"I dropped the keys," he groaned, helplessly.
"Oh for pete's sakes!" She laughed pushing him off of her and bending forward to find the keys. She did so and opened the door as Patrice hanged off of her like a child on a swing. His hands ran up and down her behind and round her hips; he reached his fingers between her legs, tracing the seam of her jeans as she pushed open the door.
"Oh Patrice," she cooed, taking in the sight before her. He hadn't noticed what the room looked like as he was hooked to her back, pulling the scarf away from her neck, his bad hand working on the buttons of her peacoat and his other hand sliding between the fabric and her soft skin, desperately reaching for a breast, battling with the straps of her bra and camisole.
"It's so beautiful," she breathed, taking hold of his wrists tenderly, gently stopping him.
At first he was disgruntled, but then he took in the room before them from over her shoulder, his heart hammering into her shoulder blade as his breath hitched in his throat. They were in a small living room of sorts with a white, fur carpet between a stark black fireplace ablaze with a fire and a black leather couch. There was an open door that led into the bedroom, where there was another white, fur carpet, and a king sized black bed in the middle of the room, with floor to ceiling windows facing the forest behind it. Big, red curtains were tied off to the sides, should the lucky couple wish to isolate themselves from the outdoors later.
She turned around to face him, her mouth agape in awe.
He made eye contact with her, and a beat later, she looped her arms around his neck and fastened her legs around his waist and he kicked the front door behind him shut and carried her into the bedroom as she attacked the sweater wrapped around him.

It was everything he hoped it'd be.
They'd panted and swore their way to climax, Jamie's hands knotted in his hair as he sat up off the bed, her moving on top of him, her arms around his neck, legs spread out over his hips and thighs, pushing his face into her breasts. She rocked him hard as she kissed him all over his face and head and whispered his name and he was electrified from head to toe, absolutely vibrating with pleasure.
As she finished she gasped "yes! Yes!" over and over and her hips ground against his and her muscles flexed around him; she tightly clasped him to her breast as she shook with orgasm.
Without the condom he could feel every inch of her and he became obsessed. His hands grabbed all over her back and ass and whenever he was conscious enough to pull his head away from her chest he slid his lips up her neck, to the bottom of her chin as she moaned and let her head fall back.
If she leaned back far enough, making use of his strong arms wrapped around her back, he could nip and suck on her breasts and hit new spots within her.
They explored one another, but could only contain themselves for so long.
As she moved on top of him she would moan or her mouth would hang open and she'd gasp, her eyes screwed shut in pleasure. When she was close to finishing she had fastened her fingers in his hair, held his face to hers and moaned "please" all over his lips and cheeks, begging for more. Here, he sat up off of the bed so she could wrap her arms and legs around his strong torso and they moved together, swearing and sweating.
Soon after she finished he grimaced himself, swearing as he rubbed his face into her chest, reluctant to finish inside her, scared of the consequences although he had never felt such intense pleasure in all his life and his body was raging to come. But at her gentle pleading with him and the sweet bump of her hips into his, he gasped and swore, clutching at her back, and felt his warmth spread between them and his contracting muscles react to hers.
Within less than a heartbeat, he felt his whole body go limp with the release of tension, and his muscles numbed with the pleasant sensation of love, comfort, and rest.
His labored breathing began to lessen as he lay his sweaty forehead on her shoulder and she continued to run her fingers through his hair and rub his back.
"Jamie," was all he could manage to breathe. "Jamie..."
She pressed a kiss into his wet hair and hugged his face to her chest again, her arms wrapped around the back of her head. He pawed at her taught, tan belly, a little space between him as his back was arched, tiredly slouched forward.
"Lay down, darling," she whispered, gently easing his back to the bed. He lay beneath her with his arms spread out, completely naked. She leaned forward and he gasped, his good hand immediately grabbing her thigh.
"Don't move," he grimaced. She could feel him jump inside. Her stomach tightened with the flash of pleasure as she felt him again, bare.
She'd never been so close with someone.
"Are you hurt?" She asked, worriedly.
"No," he groaned, raising both his hands above his head, tangling them with the pillows they had strewn everywhere. "No; it feels too good," he breathed, his chest rising and falling heavily. "Let me stay inside for a minute," he pleaded.
She bit her lip, smiling, and ran her hands up and down his bare chest, sure to catch his nipples between her fingers, eliciting a happy moan. He lazily raised his arms and beckoned her to lay on top of him, and as she did, his chest rumbled and he made sounds of contentment. He wrapped his heavy arms around her and sighed.
"You were right," he finally breathed.
"About?" She asked, knowing full well what the answer was.
"We are never having sex with condoms again. That was absolutely phenomenal."