“Straight up, plain ol’ sex, with a woman. Hard and fast, slow and soft, sixty-nine, doggy style, missionary, against a wall, over a couch, just your typical fucking. Now go to sleep.”
I couldn’t help but wonder what sex with Decker would be like. Obviously he would be good at it, and he would no doubt find my extraordinary lack of experience boring. But I didn’t need to worry, ‘cause we weren’t going to be having sex anytime soon, or ever. I mean, we were just friends. He was pretty to look at, he made me laugh, and he might be fun to fantasize about. But Decker was forbidden fruit. I was okay with that, right?
“Decker?” I called out, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, Andi.”
“I’m cool with you being a porn star.” Somehow I felt he needed to hear that.
“Thanks, Country.”
The quiet enveloped us again.
“Decker?”
He groaned loudly. “Yeah, Andi.”
“You can share the bed with me if you want. Your feet are hanging off the couch, and I trust you. We are friends after all.”
He didn’t answer for a long time. “I’m not sure I can trust myself,” he admitted.
“Don’t be a dumb ass, the bed is huge. How about I threaten to unman you if you touch me? Will that make it easier?”
Decker’s shadowy figure stood from the couch and approached the bed. “Not really, I can be stubborn and persistent when I see something I want.”
I couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness, but he was standing right by the bed, and I knew he was looking right at me. The innuendo behind that admission made my heart flip. The desire to kneel before him and run my hands over that perfectly sculpted chest was burning through my body.
“Lucky you don’t want me like that,” I whispered. He made a huffing sound before climbing into the bed, careful to maintain as much distance from me as possible as he stretched out on top of the covers.
“I will smother you if you don’t zip that sassy little mouth and go to sleep,” he grumbled.
“Zipped.” I made a show of zipping up my lips, inserting a zipping sound effect and all. “Oh, and I promise I won’t Google you tomorrow, no matter how curious I am about your pretty dick,” I added quickly. Part of me really wanted to Google Decker Steele and check out this extra special penis. Another part of me couldn’t stand the thought of watching him have sex with other women. Been there, done that, even bought the shirt, hated it.
“Andi,” Decker groaned. “You can’t invite me into your bed and start talking about my dick. We might be friends and all, but I am also a mere male and my body knows beauty when it sees it.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” I gasped.
“Yes, you’re beautiful, smart, funny, feisty, every man’s dream come true. Now go to fucking sleep before I find something to gag you with.”
Silence descended as I lay there, absorbing Decker’s words. He thought I was beautiful. How many years had I hoped to one day to hear those words from Decker’s lips? Here, now, separated by a line of friendship with an ocean of confusing pornography and sex, he had finally said it. My heart should have soared with delight—he finally saw me. Instead, I found myself wanting to weep. I was lying, practically naked, beside him, he had put his hands on me tonight, pressed his lips to my neck, inhaled me like an addict needing a hit, and we had flirted and laughed so effortlessly. So many of my fantasies and dreams had come true in one night, yet he had never felt more distant and unattainable. Thankfully, my best friend, tequila, helped numb my thoughts. I finally fell into a drunken coma.
*
Queasiness forced my eyes open, and I had no time to appreciate the fact that Decker was nestled behind me, his arm thrown over my waist, spooning me close into his chest. Instead I scrambled from bed and ran for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me before empting the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Damn, tequila was so not my friend anymore.
“Andi, you alright?” Decker called out from behind the door.
“Do I sound alright to you?” I snapped when I finished gagging. He was quiet for a moment, and I thought I heard him gag.
“Are you alright?” I found myself asking between panting breaths.
“I will be if you could manage to keep it down.”
“What the…” I didn’t get the rest out as I began to throw up again. Finally, I drew in a deep breath and flushed the evidence of my weak stomach away. HATE YOU, TEQUILA! The sound of music seeped under the door, old school stuff, Elvis. I cringed. Decker had tinkered with my stereo. I turned the shower on and ignored my musical outrage as I showered and brushed my teeth. Having no clean, dry clothes in the bathroom, I wrapped a towel around myself before slinking out into the apartment. Decker was in the kitchen. His gaze lifted to me, his eyes widening at my lack of clothing.