Let's Waste Time

When I started my day that morning, I had no idea how it would end. I thought the most likely scenario was that Chris would blow me off again. We'd probably keep this up for a few more months before drifting apart and going back to being just neighbors who nodded to each other on the stoop sometimes.

Instead, we were both lying flat on our backs in my bed, staring at the ceiling. My body was tingling, my fingers had cramped, and my throat was sore.

He was spectacular. And not in the way I was used to. I enjoyed sex. For the most part. But there had always been a level of awkwardness until we got used to each other and what we both liked or wanted. And the one relationship I'd had that led to long-term sexual history had sort of—developed into something—routine. Not that it wasn't good. I loved Trent, and the sex was always good. But it had taken time for us to get there. And at this point, it felt more about love and intimacy than just getting off.

But Chris's focus had not been to love me, make love to me, or make me feel any type of way other than royally fucked. You know. In the best way. And somehow, that had eased a lot of the awkwardness. Strangely enough.

We'd started when I asked a simple question. "What is it that does something to you? You said it's when we…?"

He'd just smirked and said, "Do you want me to show you?"

I was breathing so hard I couldn't even answer. I'd just nodded. And he showed me. And all the awkwardness flew out of the window when he got my legs around his head. I'd completely—come undone.

Then, when I'd apparently done what it was he liked, he'd given up on that task and climbed onto me. I was too far gone at that point to care about the fact that I was technically cheating. That I was in love with another man. The only thing that seemed important was getting my legs around his waist as quickly as I could.

I wasn't sure what he was thinking about now. I could hear his labored breathing from the bed beside me. My thoughts drifted between realizing I'd just had an out-of-body experience and feeling like walking was going to be an issue if I could work up the energy to try.

"Can I tell you something?" he finally asked.

"That depends," I answered. I had my hand on my chest now. Just a few minutes ago, I'd had my fingernails digging into his back. Now I was just feeling my heart race inside my chest.

"This is actually the first time I've ever acted on the open relationship thing."

I turned my head to look at him. Which was probably where I made the wrong move. He looked beautiful under the light from the window. His hair was messy from when I'd had my hands in it. His cheeks were pink. His eyes looked lazy and relaxed. I wasn't a complete expert on the male orgasm, but—I knew for a fact that I'd gotten him there too.

He shrugged a bare shoulder. It was red from my fingernails. He was still gloriously naked, legs bent at the knee, feet hanging over the edge of my bed.

"What about the redhead?" I asked.

"That wasn't actually—uh—me."

"What do you mean it wasn't you?"

"I went to a club with some of the guys from my team. Jimmy wanted to hook up with her, but he lives on the other side of the city. He asked if he could crash at my place. And I was too drunk to give a shit."

"Oh."

"So yeah. It's something we both talked about and agreed to, but—I haven't actually acted on it until now." I turned back to the ceiling and shut my eyes.

"Shit." I ran my fingers through my now dry but messy hair. I wasn't sure what that meant. Or why he'd waited so long to act on that agreement. He obviously didn't seem bothered by the fact that Heidi was probably going out with other people. But why had it taken him so long? And most importantly—why me?

"I don't know what came over me," he admitted.

"Seemed to me like you knew exactly what it was."

"You could have said no. I would have left. Please don't ever feel like you can't say no."

"I didn't want to say no. That's the problem."

"You got under my skin. I don't know how it happened or when. Just that it did, and I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"It's my fault."

"It's not your fault. I think it would have happened sooner or later. I just didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to be a creep. And it wasn't until I realized you were kinda into me too that it got—well—worse."

"What are we going to do about it?"

"What can we do? We've already done it," he pointed out.

"I mean like—is this a one-time thing? Are we going to pretend it never happened? Can we go back to being friends after this? Or are we just going to keep doing this?"

"Well," he started. I saw him turn his head to look at me again. "Was it good, at least?" I glared at him.

"Chris," I said slowly. "You heard me, right? That was practically banshee level screaming." He snorted a laugh. It was almost smug.

"It wasn't that loud."

"You're not exactly the best judge of this. Since it was your fault in the first place." Now I realized the look was definitely smug. But still—it was so cute.

"I bet I can make you go louder."

"Jesus." I rubbed my eyes with my fingers. But when I opened them, he was still looking at me. I didn't recognize the look on his face. I didn't have enough experience to see it. It should have been a clue. This wasn't the face of a man who'd just been laid. It was already something more. Even before he knew it.

"Do you want to do this again?" he asked. Seriously this time.

"I don't know." Then I sighed.

"I promise we can keep it unemotional—no attachments or obligations. No dating. No strings. We're just friends. We can still hang out once a week like usual. But—I don't know—maybe we can also do this—as well as watch movies and eat takeout." I rolled onto my side and leaned on my elbow so I could look down at him.

"Is that really what you want from me? I didn't even think you thought of me like that until recently."

"I don't know. I didn't. At first. I thought you were cute, but it didn't even cross my mind. I do—love her. Heidi, I mean. We both wanted this, but that doesn't mean we don't care about each other."

"Makes sense. It would be pretty awful if you didn't love her." He looked away, probably now feeling the guilt that came with the action. I felt it too. But it wouldn't change anything.

"I didn't befriend you to get you into bed," he assured me. "I just wanted someone to chill and watch movies with, and you seemed pretty cool. So when the opportunity presented itself, I decided to go with it. I didn't expect to start feeling things."

"You don't feel things."

"Not emotional things, no. But I definitely feel things." He motioned toward his own naked body. I poked him in the chest.

"You think I'm hot." He sighed and looked at me.

"Wicked hot, Marley." I snorted. No one had ever called me hot before. At least not like they actually meant it. I knew I wasn't hot. But I'd also never actually bagged someone who was. And Chris was. Super. Hot.

"It has to be temporary, okay?" I told him. "We're obviously not going to go back to the way it was before. And at some point, we're probably not going to be friends anymore. When Heidi is finished with school, you guys can figure out what you want to do with your lives. I don't know. When Trent and Sasha finally get that divorce—we'll go our separate ways. In the meantime, I think we can use each other to make up for the things we lack from our relationships."

"I don't want you to hate me for it." I shrugged and sighed again.

"It's honestly kind of a relief. I don't have feelings for you. I don't want anything romantic from you. It's just—the guy I love is hundreds of miles away. And—she's pregnant. Sasha. He said he's not sure if the kid is even his, but it's that uncertainty that bothers me."

"It still hurts."

"Yeah."

"I get it. But the good thing is that it's not cheating, right? That uncertainty means he has been with her recently."

"That's what hurts about it. That it means they still have sex even though they're getting a divorce."

"Right. So—it'd be a bit hypocritical of him to be angry with you. And Heidi has already told me she's cool with it as long as I'm safe and that's a big ass box of condoms you got in that drawer, Mar." I laughed again.

"That's a plus, I guess."

"Let's just give it a shot then. See how it goes? As long as we both want the same thing, we're good. We just have to be honest if our goals start to go in different directions, alright?" I nodded.

"Okay. Yeah—we can try it. But if things get too personal—I mean aside from the sex—then we back out immediately. Before it gets awkward. Or painful."

"Deal. But I actually did just buy the first season of Star Trek: Next-Generation, and you said you'd watch it with me."

"Right. I remember."

"And I could really go for a beer after that workout." I dropped my head onto the bed and laughed.

"Okay, deal. Let's go." He reached out a hand to shake mine. As if we were old pals coming to an agreement over pizza and beer, and not that we were both butt naked and post-sex. But I shook it anyway. Not realizing I was embarking on the clusterfuck of a lifetime.

I climbed out of my bed and searched for something to wear. Chris put his underwear and his jeans back on. But I'd gotten in the shower without thinking my clothing situation through. I was actually planning on sleeping in underwear until I could get the laundry done. But that didn't include a bra, so that would be a little weird during Star Trek.

"Shit, all my clothes are dirty," I said, digging through my hamper for something that wasn't too terrible.

"Here. You can wear my shirt."

He tossed it over. It was the Captain America one he'd been wearing the first time he came to my apartment. I looked back up at him, but he was busy trying to locate his socks. I thought sharing shirts might be a bit too personal. It crossed from friendship and into something more. But we'd also just shared each other's bodies. And now he was going to be eating pizza and drinking beer with the mouth he'd just had between my legs. So it's not like it could get any worse.

Besides, it smelled really good.

I followed him into the living room. He went right for the pizza. I had underwear on beneath the shirt, but I felt myself pulling at the edges of it anyway. He didn't even seem to notice when he took a seat and dug into the pizza.

"Fucking starving," he said. I sat down beside him. A little nervously.

"Same." He handed me a slice, and I turned on the TV. Then I leaned back and ate while I watched him get the DVD in.

I'd stolen his shirt, so his torso was bare. There were red marks on his back. I'd never been a scratcher before. But then again, no one had ever bitten me on the neck in the middle of sex before either. It had done something to me. He did. And god, he was beautiful.

He stood up and turned back around. Then he sent me a smile, and I returned it. The awkwardness was there now. I was suddenly more aware of how ridiculous I must look. My hair had dried when my head was on the mattress. I was sitting on the couch half-naked in his Captain America shirt.

But he didn't seem to find anything wrong with me. I think. He sat down and cracked open a beer. Then he handed it out to me. We ate and watched quietly. I tried to focus on the show, but since it was something I'd already seen, my thoughts drifted. He didn't ask questions like I expected. Maybe he was overthinking it too. But when I glanced at him, he was back to his regular comfortable position on my couch. But instead of having his arms over his chest, one was stretched over the back. The other gently clutching his beer can. I decided I was the one being weird. So I forced myself to relax and stuck my feet on the coffee table.

He noticed me pull at the shirt again. As if he hadn't seen every inch of me.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked. "No strings attached?"

"Sure."

"You have a nice ass." I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

"I have the body of a twelve-year-old boy." He took a sip of his beer and laughed.

"I was a twelve-year-old boy once, and none of them looked like you. If I can get a handful, it's a nice ass."

"That came with a lot of strings attached." He set his beer down on the table.

"No, it didn't. It's just a fact. I feel no emotional attachment to your ass." I laughed and shook my head.

"You don't have to flatter me to get me into bed. I think we've already set boundaries and rules. So you can just make a move. I'll tell you when I'm not interested." He leaned back, arm over the back of the couch again.

"My move usually starts with a kiss. But I'm apparently not allowed to do that."

"You could also just say, 'Hey, wanna bone?"

"So you wanna bone, or what?"

I put my can on the table and stood. This time, I didn't pull nervously at the shirt. I let it rise where it wanted to. Then I moved onto his lap. His hands immediately went to my thighs. He pushed the shirt up, rubbing his hands on my skin as he went.

"Sure," I said. "But do you want the shirt on or off?"

"The shirt is kind of sexy on you." I put my finger to his lips.

"Stop doing that."

"I can't compliment you?"

"Do you tell your teammates they're sexy when they wear your clothes?"

"Only Jimmy. And only after sex." I pulled the shirt up over my head and tossed it. Then I ran my fingers down his chest. I'd dreamt about this. About touching him right there on the couch. It felt surreal to be doing it now. Like my subconscious had been trying to tell me all along.

"No compliments," I told him. "We're just friends. Friends who fuck each other senseless sometimes. That's all."

"Got it." He looked up. "Are you technically still naked if you're wearing glasses?"

"The glasses come with the girl. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it."

"Besides, I can't see without them." I stood back up so he could work his jeans down, and I could get my underwear off and fetch another condom from the bedroom.

"Have you ever thought about Lasik?" he called over the back of the couch. "My dad got it. Says it changed his life."

"I have a fear of needles and sharp pointy objects near my eyes." The bedroom was a mess. My table drawer was still wide open. Showing him my box of condoms and all the stuff I kept to keep myself busy when I didn't have someone else to do it for me. "So that's a no," I told him when I returned.

He was already undressed, arm over the back of the couch, as he watched me walk across the living room. I tossed it to him, and he caught it with his baseball player reflexes. By the time I reached him, he already had it ready to go. I climbed back into place on his lap.

"Is this weird for you?" I wondered. He shook his head.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Is it weird for you?"

"I don't know."

"We don't have to do it again. I was only joking. Kind of."

"Doesn't look like you were joking, Chris."

"Well, when you climbed on me and took your shirt off, it kinda stopped being a joke, Mar."

"You really want to go two times in one night?"

"Oh, I can go more than that." I groaned.

"You're gonna kill me." He grinned.

"Nah," he said. "But we can definitely work on that banshee shriek."

"Stop talking, Chris."

"Yes, ma'am."

I thought it would be different. Not as good, somehow. As if the first time was just a fluke. As if he was merely pleasing me just to get me where he wanted me. But he already had me where he wanted me. I climbed onto him and got going before he even snaked his hand between my legs. He sunk his teeth into my neck, tongue sliding over my skin. And I gripped the back of the couch and made us both come undone.

And it was just as spectacular as before. Just as mind-numbingly perfect. So perfect that when we were both satisfied, I didn't want to get up and end it. I wanted to stay there on that couch and keep going with him until there was nothing left of either of us. This wasn't going to be the end of it. Because I wanted more. Even then.

But I had a boyfriend. And he had a girlfriend. And we had jobs and lives and no love between us. I took a moment to catch my breath before I climbed off of him. Then I picked up his shirt and handed it over with no intention of ever putting it on myself again.

"I have to work tomorrow," I told him. "We'll have to watch the next episode next week." He dropped his head on the back of the couch, arms still spread out as if he was becoming one with the cushions.

"You are—a hell of a workout, Marley Johnson. So that sounds good to me."

"Goodnight, Chris." I headed toward my room, hoping he would be okay letting himself out.

"Hey, Marley?" I turned back to him at the bedroom door. He leaned on his elbow, face a bit askew, hair wild, eyes lazy and vibrant.

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say—I'm glad we did this." I was too. And I hated how much that hurt. The sorrow rose up inside me quickly and all at once.

"Rule number one: we don't talk about sex club," I said. He laughed and dropped his head again, offering me a lazy salute.

"You got it, boss."