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Just a Number(43)

By:A.D. Ryan


“You’re incorrigible,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes and leaning in to kiss him softly. “But my answer is yes, I’d be happy to hitch a ride with you.” He smiles, and I lean over until my lips brush the shell of his ear. “I’d also be more than happy to ride you there, too.”

And just like that, Owen’s lips capture mine in a kiss so passionate, I’m surprised it doesn’t burn down the building, and we proceed to make love right there on his couch. It’s nice that we seem to have gone back to the way things were before in some areas, while in others our relationship has definitely evolved into something I can see surviving the trials I know lie ahead for us. My feelings for him run deeper than they have for anyone else, and, while I know it’s crazy-soon, and not what either of us had expected when we first embarked on this little adventure, but I’m fairly certain I’m starting to fall for him.





14. Deck the Halls



Over the next few weeks, Amelia and I prepare for Christmas at Alan’s. There are certain rules that we have to set between us in order to keep our relationship under wraps. Yes, I feel awful plotting to keep something that makes me this deliriously happy from my lifelong friend, but I know—we both do—that it’s for the best. He won’t understand right away, and neither of us wants to upset him this close to the holidays. I am confident that his desire to see his little girl happy will eventually win out over the initial urge to be upset about this, but it’ll take time to get there. And we’ll give him as much time as he needs.

Pretending like nothing is going on between us will be difficult, but I’m confident we will succeed. I think I worry most because whenever we’re in the room together, it feels as though the air is charged with this unavoidable energy and desire for one another, and everything except the two of us seems to just slip away. What if others pick up on this or we slip up at some point?

Realizing this, and in hopes of keeping that from happening, rule number one is to try to keep as much distance between us as possible without it seeming unnatural. Amelia and I have always been close before embarking on this relationship, so if we avoid each other entirely, that’s sure to raise a suspicious eyebrow or two, as well.

You see the dilemma? Get too close and chummy, and risk people suspecting we’re sleeping together. Avoid each other entirely, and also risk people suspecting we’re sleeping together.

Rule number two—which kind of goes hand-in-hand with rule number one: no sex. Since we’ll both be staying under her father’s roof, and he usually has a few days off around Christmas—barring any emergencies that demand he go in to work—it’d be too risky. In fact, we’re lucky we didn’t get caught at Thanksgiving—though there was that close call the day that Gretchen showed up where Alan almost caught me with my hands up his daughter’s shirt.

We’re grown–ups, though. We can abstain for a few days. I’m sure of it… Though, if I’m being entirely honest, we haven’t really been able to do this successfully since we got together. Even the weekend when Alan showed up, the result of us not being together those three days was an explosion of sexual frustration as soon as Amelia touched me. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; we’d just have to be careful to keep that sexual tension in check until we’re sure it’s safe.

Which circles right back up to rule number one: keeping our distance without being too damn obvious.

This roundabout way of thinking makes my head spin, and I come to realize that this is going to be a lot more difficult than we’d originally thought. But not impossible.

I arrive at Amelia’s apartment at nine in the morning on Christmas Eve. Originally, I’d wanted to leave the day before, but wound up having a few things to do at work, which kept me later. This means we didn’t get around to getting each other out of our systems (repeatedly) like we’d planned, if you know what I mean. We’d figured that if we had one last really good romp in the sack before heading to Oregon that we’d be able to follow our carefully laid out rules a little better. That plan was shot to hell the minute I called to tell Amelia I wouldn’t be coming over.

There’s rustling on the other side of the door when I give a complimentary knock before letting myself in. Amelia is standing at the foot of her bed, packing the last of her things when she looks over her shoulder and grins.

“Hey,” I greet, closing the door behind me. “You ready?”

She brings her bag over and drops it next to our feet and wraps her arms around my neck. Hey, we’re not breaking any rules; the “no touching” doesn’t take effect until we pass that “Welcome to Portland” sign. I’ll take full advantage up until I absolutely have to stop.