The Pact(17)

It has been nearly seven years since James and I stopped being a couple and became friends. It’s taken seven years for us to hang out alone again.

James clears his throat and pours himself a glass of wine. “You say there is no mystery to you, but I don’t believe it.”

“Okay,” I say, sitting up and folding my legs under me. “Why have you been single for so long? There was only…what was her name, Laura?...that I can remember.”

He tucks his hair behind his ear and shrugs. “I dunno. I’m busy.”

“So am I. And maybe you’re a bit picky.”

He shoots me a sharp look. “So are you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No,” he says, looking down at the blanket. “Not if it doesn’t prevent you from moving forward.”

My forehead scrunches. “I’m moving forward, James. Finally, actually. This,” I gesture to the store, “is everything I’ve always wanted.”

“And love?”

I roll my eyes. “Love can show its face whenever it wants. Until then, I’m happy with the way things are.”

“What about sex?”

I give him a look. “What about sex? That’s totally different. I’m not a prude James, you know this yourself.”

“No, you’re not,” he says, smiling to himself. Then he glances at me and his eyes seem to have grown darker. “You can have sex and not love.”

Before I have a chance to say anything to that, he abruptly leans forward, knocking over the glass of wine, and kisses me.

I’m too shocked to do anything but I still let him. His lips and tongue are both familiar and jarring, his hands on my face bring me back in time. I have to admit, even though I’d not thought about James that way for years, it’s not terrible.

It’s actually kind of nice.

But I still want to know what’s going on.

I pull back, mindful now of the wine seeping into the knee of my jeans.

“Whoa,” I manage to say, catching my breath. I quickly busy myself by pressing napkins into the spreading red stain on the blanket.

“We’ll deal with it later,” James says hurriedly and his lips are on mine again. His kiss is desperate and probing, fueled by something I don’t understand.

Or maybe I do.

Loneliness.

“James.” His lips move quickly along my jawbone and down my neck. “I’m not sure if this is a good idea.”

“Sure it is,” he mumbles against me, his hand on my breast and squeezing, my flimsy lace bra providing no barrier. “I want you, you want me.”

That wasn’t exactly true. I place my hand on his chest and look at him. His eyes are glazed over with lust and can barely focus on mine.

“James,” I say again, my tone harder.

“What?” He anxiously brings his hair off his face. “Steph, look…it’s just sex. Nothing more than that.”

I frown at him.

“I’m serious,” he says, running his fingers through my hair and tugging me closer. “Just sex. We had a good thing at one time. Why not have it one time more?”

“Because it could change our friendship,” I point out. I mean, it’s kind of the obvious. I don’t care how common it is for people to sleep with their exes, it makes things messy, especially when you’re still hanging out with your ex on a weekly basis.

“One night won’t change anything for me,” he says. “Will it change anything for you?”

I’m not sure. I know how I feel about James. I also know that sleeping with him might be as comfortable as a warm, old sweater.

And I like cozy sweaters on cold days.

“No,” I tell him, feeling myself relent. “It won’t change anything for me.”

He smiles at me, that wide grin that lights up his dark eyes like firecrackers. “For old time’s sake, then.”

Then he gets up and turns off the lights to the store before coming back to me on the blanket. We fall back into the food and wine. I don’t care what the movies tell you, it’s not as much fun as it sounds. While he’s ripping my shirt over my head, I’m praying he doesn’t throw it on the wine, when he’s sucking my nipples into his mouth, I’m worried about the brie and blue cheese becoming stuck to my backside. I fear my skin and clothes are being stained with a Frenchman’s dream.

It isn’t until I’m stark naked and flipped over onto my hands and knees, that I’m able to relax. It probably helps that his dick slides into me like second skin and that fucking amazing piercing of his hits all the right spots. No other guy has been able to activate the G-spot like he has, and even though the piercing is probably a form of cheating, I don’t really care at this point.