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“It’s just my hand, how bad can it be?”

“Well, let’s think about that before you give me your answer.” She begins ticking things off her fingers. “You’re going to need help getting in and out of your clothes. There’s no way you can hook a bra, do the zipper and button your pants, tie your shoes, make food, drive, or carry things.”

“I can manage,” I quickly say, not really hearing her protests.

“You’ll have Foster, but are you comfortable with that?”

“It’ll be fine, Tabby. I’m not ruining your trip.”

“Okay, here’s the deal. We can do a test run. I’ll go out with Noah and Foster will stay the night. See how it goes. Then if you’re comfortable, I’ll go home tomorrow. But if you’re not, I mean by one hundred percent, I call off my trip. Postpone it until next month. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yes, it is a big deal,” I argue. “Foster and I will be just fine. Go. Now. Go spend these last few hours with your lover.”

She holds a finger to me and makes a few calls.

“Okay,” she says when she comes back into the living room. “Foster’s on his way.”

I nod and smile, but when she turns around, I close my eyes.

Oh crap. What did I just do?

Foster

I jump on my bike and give myself a pep talk the entire way over to Jules’ apartment. I knew she’d agree to Tabby’s demands. There’s no way she’d make Tab cancel her trip. However, I knew she’d also come up with a protest to having me wait on her just as soon as she had the opportunity. Now, not only do I need to prevent that, but I also need to stay in control of my body and my perverted mind. Being this close to Jules for so long, how will I be able to keep my hands off her?

This is going to be a game of sheer willpower. I will be pushed to the brink. It’s a fucking survival reality TV show. And I’m not at all sure I’ll make it out alive.

I pull into the parking lot and unstrap the monstrous bag of shit I’ll need during the next two weeks, mainly work clothes and my cooking tools. I don’t like using other people’s shit when I’m cooking, and this is my opportunity to try out a bunch of new recipes with my captive audience of one. Thank Christ she loves to eat.

I used Jules’ car earlier to deliver my soup and stock her fridge, so we’re good to go.

Let the two weeks of our new platonic relationship commence.

“Foster,” Tab greets me at the door. “Man, that was fast. Come in, come in.”

“How’s the patient?” I ask, walking over to Jules. I’m glad my hands are full of shit because I want nothing more to grab her and hold her close. She looks so small and vulnerable lying there on the couch with her groggy doe eyes and wild hair.

“A-okay,” Jules answers. “Kudos to the doc for some excellent drugs.”

My tough girl, lying through her teeth.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Just some soda crackers,” Tab jumps in. “She’s kept them down fine. She should be ready for some soup now. Here,” she says, grabbing me by the arm and leading me into her room. “Mi casa es su casa. Make yourself at home. I even cleared out a few drawers for you.”

I peek out and give Jules a
what the hell
look and she just laughs.

“She is the ultimate mother hen,” Jules calls back. “Get her out of here, would you? She’s going to be late for her last date with Noah for two weeks. Those two can barely keep their hands off each other during daylight hours. I can’t even imagine how they are going to get through two weeks.”

“One week,” Tabby yells. “Noah is coming to stay the last part of the trip.”

“Thank the Lord,” Jules says.

I drop my bag on the bed and take out all my tools, bring them into the kitchen, and begin to warm the soup. Meanwhile, Tabby gives me the lowdown on Jules’ medication schedule and hands me a list of phone numbers.

“Night-night, Mom,” Jules says when Tabby finally makes it out the door.

“Whew,” I add when I hear the door click. “I thought she’d never leave. So do you want to do it?”

“Settle down, big boy.” Jules giggles.

I play it off, even though I’m completely serious. I want to jump her more than I want my next breath.

“We’ve got two whole weeks in front of us.” She winks.

That’s what I’m afraid of.

I bring Jules her soup on a tray, help her up, and get settled so she can get something in her stomach. I check the clock on the stove—time for more meds. Taking the bottle from the tray, I dump the pills into my hand and hold two out to her mouth. Jules puts down her spoon and opens for me. I set them on her tongue, but it catches me on the way out and the feeling of her warm, wet tongue goes straight to my balls. I take a breath. No, no, no. Not here. Not here.

Too late.

Jules takes a drink of water and throws back the pills, but a drop escapes and runs down her chin. How badly I want to lap it up.

She eats her soup—my famous tortellini with chicken, carrots, celery, and bunch of top secret spices. I can see her savoring the broth with each bite. Her moans are also a good indication she’s enjoying it.

“Alright, Taylor,” I say. “Take it easy over there, you’re giving me a hard-on.”

“Whatever,” she says. “The wind changing direction gives you a hard-on.”

Looks like she’s back to normal.

Jules finishes the soup and I clean up, with Noah’s damn voice buzzing in my head. He’s letting me get by with a lot of shit right now, but I know if I try anything, he
will
tell her about Jenna. He knows I’m bad for Jules, knows she deserves more than I could ever give her. He would, undoubtedly, tell her if I break the agreement. That would be that. No more Foster and Jules in any sense, platonic or otherwise.

It’s something I can’t live with.

So I move next to her and start surfing for a movie to keep us entertained for the night. It’s a welcome distraction.

~~~

Jules doesn’t wake when I move her to bed. I prop her casted arm on pillows and tuck her under the covers.

It’s eerily close to what I did for her in high school after Ed’s brutal attack.

Man, Jules and I had it rough growing up, but what she had to endure? Not even I had to deal with that level of fucked up. What’s worse is that it was the result of two very poor choices by her mom, Karen—and two very poor excuses for men.

The first guy was crude and mean. Jules was smart, though. She stayed low until Karen dumped him. The second? He put Jules in the hospital. The bastard took a cigarette to her. He seared the underside of her arm with burns up and down, like she was a fucking ashtray.

I was the unfortunate soul who found her after that attack, when she was trying to treat the burns on her own. I didn’t pass go when I went to Karen or when I found the asshole to punish. With my fists.

That’s why Jules always has my back and lets me get away with murder. I’d take a bullet for that girl and she knows it.

After those dark days, my little spitfire’s light went out for a while. She didn’t want anything to do with guys, especially me. She kept us all at a distance. So I dated to pass the time, all the while wishing the girls were Jules.

Not much has changed since then.

Once senior year came around, Jules’ fire began to burn again. She dyed her hair purple, went to parties, and started dating. Then she decided enough was enough, and she turned in her V card to Joey Freemont. Why that douchebag? I’ll never know. He was loud, annoying, and had a penchant for Corn Nuts. Always crunching away.

Disgusting fucker.

I caught Joey talking—telling everyone about Jules, in no uncertain terms, at baseball practice. That brought about another fight and another fist to the face. Shortly after, he was hanging onto the fence for dear life. We both had to miss playoffs after that move.

Jules didn’t understand I was defending her honor.

“Foster, why do you care so badly about what everyone thinks?” she asked me after the coach finally let me go.

“He was talking smack about you, for Christ’s sake,” I told her.

“So?”

“So? You want Joey effing Freemont talking smack about you?”

“I don’t really care.” Jules laughed then. She actually laughed. “We did have sex. It was terrible, but now it’s over and I’ll know what I’m doing when it really matters.”

She never ceased to blow me away.

“Are you insane?”

“Really, Caveman? You’re asking me if
I’m
insane? I’m not the one putting my fist in faces every five seconds.”

Then I was the one laughing. “Jules,” I said. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Come here, you big beast.” She pulled me into her arms. “I love you, babe.”

I love you, too,
I said in my head because I was too chicken-shit to say it out loud. Those words have been stored in there for a long time—words I’m not sure can stay unspoken forever.

Looking at her now, all these years later, I say them again.

Jules

After drifting in and out of consciousness through the day and night, I’m groggy and my body’s heavy. When I open my eyes this time, I’m in my bed. Foster’s crumpled in the chair next to me.

Something’s up with him. He’s acting even stranger than normal—he’s more careful with me, his actions more intimate. Still, I can almost feel him holding back. Could I finally be getting to him as much as he’s getting to me?

I clear my throat and his eyes snap open.

“What?” He jumps up. “Are you in pain?”

“No, no,” I say, trying to calm him. “I just have to pee.”

“Oh.” He rubs his face. “Here, let me help. You’ve been horizontal for a long time, you might get lightheaded when you stand.”

He’s right. As he comes over to the bed, he drapes an arm across my back and slowly lifts me upright. Things spin for a minute, so I take a few deep breaths.

Once I’m seeing only one of everything I say, “Okay, all the way up.”

Foster slides my legs to the floor and helps me stand.

“Good?” he asks.

“I think so.”

He helps me to the bathroom and thankfully I can do the rest without assistance.

“Why were you sleeping in the chair?” I ask when we make it back to the bed.

“You’re not supposed to be alone.”

“Yeah, but I think in general, not literal. I’m okay here, see? Go sleep in a bed.”

“Nah,” he says. “I feel better being close. Tabby’s room is too far away.”

“Well then, get in,” I say, flipping back the covers with my good hand.

“Are you serious?” he asks.

“Yes. It’s not like we haven’t done this in the past, right?”

“I guess,” he says, seeming unsure.

“Then get in,” I demand.

I hate being uncomfortable around Foster. The kid-gloves treatment is making me crazy. It feels wrong and I hate it. Of course, I’m emotional and hopped up on drugs, but still.

“Okay.” He climbs in next to me on the left side—my unhurt side.

“If you’re going to be here for two weeks, no more weirdness,” I tell him, wobbling a little. “This is an awkward situation, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make the best of it.”

Now, get naked.

Foster leans up on his arm. “What are you talking about, Jules?”

“Let’s enjoy our time together. Viva la loca.”

That’s a funny word: loca.

“Great, you’re high on the pain meds.”

“Maybe.” I go into a bit of a giggling fit. This is kind of fun. “But who cares, now spoon me and let’s get some sleep.”

“Oh, boy,” Foster says. But he scoots over and wraps me in his body.

I’ve never slept so well.

Foster

I double my coffee recipe in the morning. It’s an incredibly strong French roast with hazelnut-flavored beans. I drink half the pot before Jules wakes. I need it after being up most of the night.

Spoon me,
she said. Easier said than done.

I’m not sure what Jules will be able to eat for breakfast after taking all that pain medication, so I overdo it and make a little of everything. Lighter fare and some good comfort dishes. I notice she has a pretty nice herb garden growing on the fire escape, so I take some basil and thyme for the eggs. I chop the fresh herbs and add a few roma tomatoes and a little gorgonzola to the scramble.

I have fresh scones in the oven and bacon sizzling. I’m sure it’s the smell that wakes Jules. She’s walking now and looks so much better. I meet her by her door to make sure she’s stable.

She is. Thank God.

“Sit, sit,” I tell her, delivering a huge mug of coffee to the table.

“Oh wow,” she says. “It smells amazing. Is this what I have to look forward to for the next fourteen days? Because I am totally down with this. I’d even exchange sexual favors for just one piece of that bacon.”