Playing It Safe

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


I pull into my driveway about an hour later, freshly showered again, my legs feeling like jelly, and wearing the same clothes as yesterday. I already texted Sabrina on my way here to let her know that I was alive and well and would be making my weekly Skype call a little later than usual.

The only thing I bet you’re wondering about is whether we had shower sex or not. To answer your question: no, we didn’t. Instead, he washed my body from head to toe and vice versa. Then the strangest thing happened, which I still can’t make heads or tails of; he held me to him under the streams of water for a few minutes. What’s even more strange is that I let him. And yet even more odd, neither one of us had a sarcastic, flirty, or biting thing to say to each other. As a matter of fact, we were deathly quiet throughout the whole thing, making it feel far more intimate than all the sex we’d had up until that point.

Ah, the sex.

Hands down, the best sex of my life.

I’m not one to gloat, but I was right. I had a feeling he’d be amazing. What I didn’t expect was for it to be so good that I’m craving more from him. A lot more. So much more that it borders on pornographic.

And this is where it gets a bit tricky.


See above where I told you about our Harlequin Romance moment in the shower?

I can’t pretend it didn’t happen, just like I can’t lie about how it made me feel safe, comforted, and … cherished. It’s not insta-love, by any means. Well, I may be slightly enamored with his dick, but that’s beside the point. What I mean is that I’ve known Alex for a few years. In the last year alone things have definitely been different between us. I don’t know specifically when the shift happened from friends/colleagues to flirtatious friends/colleagues, but somewhere along the line it did. It throws a monkey wrench into my vow of staying away from men altogether, but I’m not going to complain. I’m going to try and embrace it and live in the moment instead.

Oh, and did I mention that he wouldn’t let me leave his house until I agreed to go out to dinner with him tonight? He was adamant about it and was quite persuasive. Something about how since we were supposed to go out on a date last night, but instead ended up in his bed by midafternoon and didn’t leave there until this morning, I still owed him one.

So I agreed. Of course I did; I’m not a complete moron.

He wouldn’t tell me where we were going either, only that I should wear something semi-nice. As a woman, that translates into spending an inordinate amount of time in my closet for the rest of the day trying to find the perfect semi-nice outfit before he picks me up at seven thirty later tonight. But before I star in my own episode of What Not to Wear, I have to talk to Sabrina.

I immediately take my laptop out and power it up, leaving it on the kitchen table while I make a pot of coffee. As soon as it starts to brew, I cheat a little by putting my mug underneath the stream. Once it’s full to the brim, I sit down and make my Skype call to Sabrina.

“Good morning, Scully,” she says, pointing out the X-Files coffee mug in my hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I mean good afternoon.”

“Is it afternoon already?”

“Are you going to spill, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?”

“Spill what?” I answer coyly.

“Um, let’s see. It’s after one o’clock in the afternoon on a Saturday, your hair is soaking wet, you have no makeup on, and you’re still wearing your work clothes from yesterday.”

I glance down at my clothes and chide myself for not changing before starting this session with her.

“How very observant of you, Mulder,” I say back, using my old nickname for her since she has the same exact coffee mug as me. “Can we at least get the pleasantries out of the way before I spill?”

“Sure. I’ll go first,” she says. “I love you, and I miss you like crazy.”

“Aw, me too, sweetie.”

“Okay, so now that that’s out of the way, spill,” she demands, leaning back in her chair and waiting for me to fill her in.

I take another sip of my piping hot coffee and then clear my throat dramatically, thinking of the best way to tackle this. I know, I know, it shouldn’t be a big deal, but it feels weird.

“Stop stalling, Julia.”

“I slept with Alex,” I blurt out.

Sabrina doesn’t say a word, so I keep going. “I just left his house since I spent the night there.”

No reaction from her.

“We had phone sex a couple of nights ago too.”

Nothing.

“He’s picking me up tonight to take me out to dinner.”

She’s still quiet as a church mouse.

“And knowing me, I’m probably going to end up sleeping with him again after our date tonight.”

Crickets.

Finally, I see the tiniest hint of her shoulders shaking, and a smile creeps up, followed by an explosion of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” I ask her defensively.

She wipes away the tears from her eyes from laughing so hard. “You. That’s what’s so funny.”

“Why am I so funny?”

“Because, Julia,” she says with another quick swipe underneath her eye, “it was so obvious that there was something going on between you two from the last time we talked. But for whatever reason you didn’t want to tell me.”

“It’s weird,” I confess.

“No, it’s not. You’re only making it seem weird.”

“You don’t think it’s even a little weird?”

She sighs and then leans forward again so her elbows are propped on the desk in front of her. “Nope, not at all. In fact, I think it’s great. Alex is—”

“Amazing,” I say, finishing the sentence for her.

Sabrina smiles fully then, all teeth and gums. “Yes, he is. But what I was going to say is that I think he’s kind of perfect for you and that we’re just friends. You of all people should know that better than anyone. So stop saying you feel weird about it, because you shouldn’t.”

“I know. You’re absolutely right, and I’m sorry I kept it from you. Although there wasn’t much to keep from you up until recently, to be honest.”

“What about that Marisa person you were telling me about?” she asks thoughtfully.

I purse my lips and make a face of distaste at the mere mention of Miss Teen USA before explaining the situation to Sabrina. “They’re not dating really. As it turns out, they never were, according to him and his niece.”

At the mention of Josie, Sabrina’s eyebrows shoot up in curiosity. “Yeah, about that,” I say. “Do you remember that deal Alex and I made last year to get your résumé to your now boss?” Sabrina nods in understanding. “Well, he finally decided to cash in on the favor I owe him.”

“What does he want you to do?”

“Plan his niece’s tenth birthday party at his house.”

She lets out a small giggle. “That sounds like fun.”

“It is. I’m having the best time planning it.”

Right then it occurs to me that with all the crap that went down yesterday, I really was supposed to have a meeting with Alex about the party. Obviously we got sidetracked, so I’ll have to remember to bring it up to him at some point tonight.

“So, has he restored your faith in men?” Sabrina asks teasingly.

I bring the mug to my lips with an evasive smile. “Perhaps.”

“Oh my God, I just had a great idea!” she yells, making me almost spit my coffee out. “We should all go out to dinner the next time I’m in town.”

“Sabrina, settle down. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I say in between coughs. “We only started dating, or hooking up—whatever you want to call it.”

“Well, promise me that you’ll at least think about it.”

I raise my hand up and twiddle my pinky finger at the screen. “Fine. Pinky swear.”

Sabrina does the same thing on her end with her finger before letting me know that she’s running late to meet up with Tyler and has to cut the session short.

“That’s fine. I have to start looking for something to wear that’s ‘semi-nice’ anyway, and I really would like to take a nap before Alex picks me up later.”

“Wore you out, did he?” she guesses with another giggle.

“You have no idea, Sabrina.”

We end the session as I finish what coffee is left in my mug. After a quick refill, I head straight into my bedroom. First, I change into a pair of beat-up sweatpants and an old Depeche Mode concert T-shirt that has seen better days before tackling the outfit situation.


An aggravating hour later, I’m staring at possible selections on my bed when my cell phone rings. Holding it in my hand, I roll my eyes and prepare myself for the worst before I answer it.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hello, sweetheart,” she replies. “Your father said you’d be coming over today. What time should we be expecting you?”

“Mom, I didn’t say that.”

“Carter! Pick up the phone!”

Oh dear God, it’s one of those calls.

My dad gets on the line in the middle of yelling about a play gone awry in the college football game he’s currently watching. “What kind of bullshit call was that, ref? Pass interference, my ass! Let them play the game, for chrissakes!”

“Carter!”

“What?”

“I thought you said Julia was coming over today,” my mom says to him.

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did.”

“No, I most definitely didn’t say that. I told you she’d be calling you today.”

“Are you sure?”

“Marilyn, I may be retired, but I’m not senile.”

My mom sighs into the phone. “I never said you were going senile, but I could have sworn you told me she was coming over today.”

“Are you sure you’re not the one going senile?”

I clear my throat loudly to get their attention. “I’m sorry to interrupt you two, but is my presence required within this conversation?”

“Julia?” my dad says, completely puzzled. “When did you get on the phone?”

“I’ve been here the entire time, Dad.”

“Are you watching the Hurricanes game, Julia? The f*cking refs are killing us. It’s total bullshit.”

“No, I’m not watching the game, Dad. I’m kind of busy, actually.”

My mom decides to chime in. “Is that why you can’t come over?”

“Um, no. I’m trying to find something to wear for a date I have tonight,” I confess, and take a seat on the edge of my bed. My dad is momentarily distracted by another god-awful call, so my mom continues with her questions.

“Is this your first date with the lucky guy?” she asks excitedly.

“Yes, kind of.”

“It either is or it isn’t, Julia,” my dad says, popping back into the conversation.

“It’s complicated.”

“That doesn’t sound promising,” he adds under his breath.

My mom butts in next. “How can it be your first date and already be complicated?”

I fall back on my bed, exasperated, and onto some of the outfits I’d laid out.

“Well, Carter, obviously there is something Julia isn’t telling us.”

“You think?” my dad says with a snort. “If he’s anything like the other guys she’s brought home to meet us, I give it another week.”

“Do you remember that one who wouldn’t drink anything all night, even with his food? I mean who doesn’t want even a little sip of water to clear their palate during a meal?”

“I remember that one,” my dad says. “How about the one who kept going to the bathroom every five minutes? He must have had a serious drug habit.”

“He didn’t have a drug habit, Dad.”

“Oh, so he had the shits then? I’m not sure that’s any better, Julia.”

“Carter,” my mom says while laughing, “stop teasing her.”

“You started it.”

“Julia, maybe this guy is going to sweep you off your feet.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” my dad says.

“Okay, guys. As much as this conversation has been as enlightening as ever, I’ve gotta go and start getting ready.”

“So you’re not coming over?” my mom asks again, like she hasn’t heard a word I’ve said.

“Not today. Maybe next week, okay?”

“Okay, sweetheart. That would be nice. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“Julia,” my dad says in a cautious voice before I hang up. “Make sure whoever this guy is that he treats you good.”

I smile in spite of myself at the warning. Even though my parents might officially be off the reservation, I know in my heart they mean well and care about me, so I put up with their antics.

“I will, Daddy.”

We say a collective good-bye, and I toss my phone onto the bed. I’m still smiling while staring up at the ceiling and thinking about last night and this morning. My eyes eventually start to grow heavy, and although I really should decide what I’m wearing later tonight, a nap wins out instead.

I guess Sabrina was right. He wore me out. But in the best way possible.