“Excuse you,” she muttered, turning to watch the woman pass.
It was the only reason she looked to the street corner and saw Jimmy, wearing familiar and delectable denim jeans, his longish hair tousled, his face scruffy. He was leaning against the street sign talking on a cell phone. If it had been anyone else, even an ex-boyfriend, Katie would’ve had not even a second’s hesitation in approaching him. But this was Jimmy, master of the late-night phone call. Things were always different in daylight.
She didn’t have time to scoot inside the coffee shop before Jimmy looked up, still talking, eyes getting bright. He smiled and said something that must’ve been goodbye, because he slipped the phone into his front pocket and headed toward her.
“Katie.”
“Hi, Jimmy.” She sounded too breathy, too gooey, too junior high. Katie tried again. “How’s it going?”
“Good, good.” He nodded. The breeze moved his shaggy hair, and the sunlight lit up his face. He had eyes the color of caramel, something she hadn’t remembered. “You going in?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh. Yes.”
“Good.” Jimmy grinned again and held open the door, then followed her.
It was the same coffee shop where they’d met, but this time, Jimmy bought her latte and brownies for both of them. He pulled out her chair, too, something no man had done for Katie in a long time. Sitting across from him, their knees bumping every so often, Katie tried hard not to think of this as anything romantic.
It was hard, though, with Jimmy keeping eye contact and laughing at her jokes. Or at the way he casually brushed past her on the way to get more napkins, some cream for his coffee, a fork. He touched her, hand flat on her back between her shoulder blades as he passed. And on the upper arm, and on the shoulder when he got up to greet another friend who’d come into the shop.
He touched her seven times, never in any way that could’ve been construed as anything more than casual, but Katie counted each time, her nerves tingling more with every press of his palm against her. By the time she’d finished her coffee, the brownie not even touched as she’d lost the capability to eat anything while Jimmy flirted with her, Katie thought if he touched her again she was going to melt into a puddle right then and there.
“Well, hey, it’s been great,” Jimmy said suddenly with a glance at the clock on the wall behind her, “but I have to scram.”
He stood, leaving Katie blinking and thinking of something witty to say, but he’d already squeezed her shoulder again and was pushing in his chair.
Damn.
He’d reduced her to speechlessness, which was not her normal state at all. She really hated not being herself around him, that somehow he’d made her the sort of woman who got all giddy and dumbstruck with crush. More than that, though, she hated that Jimmy seemed either oblivious to his effect on her, or so used to creating that response in women that he took it for granted.
“Thanks for the coffee.” Katie stood, too.
“Any time. I’ll call you,” Jimmy promised and shot her a grin.
Katie watched him go, wishing she could believe his offer was real and for her, instead of just his standard response to every female in the world.
Jacob hadn’t been too happy that Dean was going to Katie’s tonight. If any other man had snapped at Dean like that, told him off, said he’d better get his priorities straight instead of fucking around just because he “could” and not because he “should,” well, Dean would’ve told him to fuck off. It had come close to that, actually.
“You want me to cancel?” he’d asked, still tasting garlic and red sauce and wishing Jacob had brought all this up before they’d started eating.
Jacob had cocked his head and looked Dean up and down with a flat, cold gaze. “Would you, if I asked?”
“No.”
Jacob had shrugged. “Then do whatever the hell you want to, Dean. I won’t be that guy.”
“What guy?” Dean had asked, though he was pretty sure he knew.
“The one,” Jacob said as he got up and took his plate, food uneaten, to the garbage can to scrape it, “who waits around for you to figure everything you want and need is right in front of you, while you just keep walking away.”
“Is that a threat?”
Jacob had shrugged and given him another long look. “No, baby. It’s a fact.”
Then he’d pointed at the door, and Dean had gone with his tail between his legs, a fact that pissed him off so much he thought he might just delete that little prick from his phone entirely. But he didn’t. Sitting here in the car in front of Katie’s house, Dean held the phone and waited for it to ring.
But it didn’t.
The last guy he’d wanted and needed had cheated on him, lied to him and finally, left him. What still hurt wasn’t that Ethan had fucked around and been dishonest about it, but that in the end Dean had forgiven him and Ethan had still walked away.
The one who waits around for you to figure everything you want and need is right in front of you, while you just keep walking away.
“Fuck that,” Dean said aloud and tossed the phone into his glove compartment so he wouldn’t hear it not ringing. He looked at the house and wet his lips with his tongue.
He was going to do this, all right. The reasons had gone blurry–he was sure Katie would be okay if he cancelled, but then she’d always look at him when she thought he wasn’t looking and think about how he’d been a pussy. Hell, did that even matter? Why had this become so important? Why couldn’t he just let it go?
The porch light blinked twice. Katie. He probably looked like the biggest douche ever, sitting here in the car like he couldn’t make up his mind. Dean drew in a breath. In, out. Game time.
She greeted him at the door with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hey. I thought you weren’t going to make it.”
“No. I’m here.” He paused, suddenly feeling like maybe he should’ve brought flowers or something like that. Feeling lame. This was Katie, for fuck’s sake, his friend. He could’ve at least brought a bottle of wine.
“C’mon in.” She stepped aside and closed the door behind him.
They stood in the entryway, more awkward than they’d ever been with each other. Dean remembered his senior prom, standing with his date and feeling the same way. Feeling like he was putting on a show that wasn’t fooling anyone.
Should he kiss her? He’d have kissed her on the cheek or hugged her, at least, if they hadn’t agreed to fuck. He’d have at least slipped an arm around her waist as he followed her to the living room to give her a squeeze as he asked about her day. All things he’d done before but now couldn’t quite manage.
“Something to drink? I have some of that wine you like,” Katie offered.
“Actually, I already poured it, so you’d better be having some. I can’t finish the bottle myself.”
She pointed to the coffee table. Bottle, two glasses. It was his favorite.
“Yeah.” Dean sat, took a glass, looked at her. “Do you need this?”
Katie looked a little surprised as she sat next to him, reaching for her own glass. “You mean…for tonight?”
“Yeah.” Dean cleared his throat. “You want to back out? Or you need to be a little drunk?”
Katie laughed and shook her head. “No, sweetie, I totally do not need to be a little drunk to fuck you. Unless…you don’t want to?”
She looked wary and hesitant, an expression Dean felt on his own face and didn’t like. “No. I mean…unless
you
don’t want to.”
Katie sighed heavily and sank into the couch cushions while sipping the wine. “Oh, Dean. Listen, this was your idea, so if you don’t want to, I totally get it. We don’t have to have sex. Believe me,” she added somewhat sourly. “You won’t be the first man today who didn’t want to make love to me.”
That sounded bad. Maybe even worse than his own trials with Jacob. Dean turned to face her. “That fucker Jimmy?”
She shrugged and ran a fingertip around the top of the wineglass, making it sing. “I saw him today. I mean actually saw, not talked to on the phone.”
She detailed how they’d met by accident. The coffee, the touching. It pissed Dean off to hear how sad she sounded about it.
“He’s a fucking moron,” Dean said flatly. “A foron. Really, babe.”
Katie’s sigh was shaky as she put her glass on the table. “I should just forget him.”
To his alarm, because Katie wasn’t a wilting flower at all, Dean saw she was on the verge of tears. “Hey. C’mere.”
He pulled her close so she could snuggle in at his side, her cheek to his chest. She fit just right in the curve of his arm, his chin against her hair. She sighed heavily again and put her arms around him.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, voice muffled.
He stroked a hand down her hair and they sat that way in silence for a few minutes. The words that came out of him next surprised him, quiet though he said them.
“He wants to be in a real relationship with me.”
“Of course he does,” Katie said, brushing her cheek against his chest again.
“You’re fabulous.”
“…no. I mean…yes,” Dean said. “But that’s not what I mean.” More silence.
“You’re afraid,” Katie said softly. “I get it. I know about you and Ethan, remember?”
For the first time in a long time, Dean didn’t stiffen at the other man’s name. For the first time, Ethan’s face had faded enough another face could replace it. “I don’t want to be like him, Katie, and that’s what Jacob said I was like.”
She looked up at him, her eyes wet though her cheeks were dry. “He said that?”
“Not exactly,” Dean admitted. “I mean, fuck, he doesn’t know about Ethan. Not like you do. But he said he wasn’t going to wait around while I just keep walking away.”
“Ah.” She didn’t move away from him. “Well, sweetie, maybe he has a point, you know?”
“I don’t want him to have a point,” Dean said.
She smiled sadly, her mouth quivering. “We’re a pair, aren’t we? You’ve got someone you’re not sure you want, I have someone who doesn’t seem to want me.”
To her chagrin, because Dean didn’t want to be the reason Katie cried, her tears spilled over her lower lids and traced their way down her face.
“Hey,” he said. “Don’t, okay?”
He swiped the tear with the pad of his thumb and Katie shuddered, turning her face to press her mouth to his palm, holding his hand close to her face for a moment before looking up at him with still-sad eyes. A lot of women had cried on Dean’s
shoulder over the years, but Katie never had. Looking at her now, all he could think was how good a friend she’d always been, and how much he didn’t want her to be unhappy.
She murmured against his mouth when he kissed her but made no protest. Her mouth opened. She tasted sweet, the way she had the other day. His hand went naturally around the back of her neck to cup it, her hair a soft, thick weight on his fingers. Somehow she ended up on his lap, straddling him, their kisses turning from soft and slow to hard and demanding.
She’d tricked him before, with the blindfold, but he didn’t need it this time. His mind put together the taste and smell of her with the memory of pleasure, and his cock responded. He pulled her closer, kissed her deeper, put a hand on the small of her back to grind her down a little harder against his dick.
“Dean,” she murmured into his mouth, but his kiss stopped her.
Dean favored men close to his size and build. Compared to that, Katie was so much smaller and softer, he had no trouble putting his hands under her ass and lifting her. She let out a small, strangled gasp but didn’t stop kissing him. Their tongues twisted, tangling, and fuck, it felt good. Really good.
He didn’t try to make it to the stairs, much less up them. Her rug was soft and thick and deep, and he laid her down on it, settling between her thighs as he closed his eyes and sank into the sensations. The semi-desperate surge of pleasure coiling in his gut surprised him, making him think his cock really did have a mind of its own.
Somehow she got him undressed, a feat he could only admire since they never stopped kissing and he was fumble-fingered about her clothes. In her bra and panties beneath him, Katie laughed softly as he tried to figure out how to unhook her bra and got it off herself.
“You really never have done this,” she said.
“Of course not.” Dean slid his hands up her sides but stopped just below her breasts to look into her eyes. “Did you think otherwise?”
She got up on her elbows to look at him. “I guess maybe I thought I wasn’t that special.”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” Dean told her before kissing her again and saying against her lips, “you’re special.”
She laughed again into his kiss, and that was better than her tears had been. She lay back with him between her legs. Her hand found his dick and stroked it from half-hard to fully erect, and Dean shuddered at how good it felt. When she stroked her fingertips over his balls, he drew in a breath, holding it for a moment, before opening his eyes to look at her.
“Oh no,” he said. “The challenge was to get you off.”
“Sweetie, seeing you enjoy yourself goes a long way toward that.”
Dean couldn’t argue with that, since he was a fan of such tactics himself, but he shook his head. “I’m going to make you forget anyone else tonight, Katie. I promised.”
“Already done,” she breathed, eyes gleaming, and ran her hands up over his thighs. “Touch me.”
He slid his hands up her sides again to cup her breasts. Her nipples tightened against his palms and she drew her lower lip between her teeth. She liked that, he thought, trying to imagine what a woman would like. The same things as a guy, probably
if only he could figure out the right parts to focus on. If only he could find them, he thought as Katie parted her legs a little and arched her back.
Fuck, this might be harder than he’d thought.
He bent his mouth to a nipple, sucking gently. Not flat like a man’s, Katie’s nipple peaked and grew as he stroked it with his tongue. And wow, she bucked her hips up against his belly. Dean did the other nipple, too, until both of them were rosy red and hard.
Dean had seen plenty of hetero porn–his college roommate had been addicted to the stuff, leaving skin mags around and playing a nonstop collection of VHS tapes he rented from the video store. It had all seemed sort of vague and mysterious, unlike gay porn in which everyone had erections and came in great, spurting jets of jizz, on camera. Katie wasn’t acting like a woman in a porn video. Aside from the lack of Lucite platform shoes, she was squirming only a little when he touched her.