We left the next morning with enough leftovers to feed us both for a week. We hugged and gave promises of returning soon or at least at Christmas. They both even hugged West and invited him back for our next tradition! West was in awe but didn’t say much on the way back.
The following week, I didn’t see much of him. I was busy with papers for school and working. I did go to the line dance lessons on Wednesday and hoped to see West on Thursday at the open mic night but he wasn’t there. Odd. We’ve texted a few times, him always telling me he was busy with stuff. It’s weird to have spent so much time with him then to come home and nothing.
After open mic, I stayed around and had a couple of beers when Cian walked up to me. “You were great last night dancing. You’ve really picked them all up so quickly.”
I beam up at him. “Thanks.”
“Walk you home?” I nod and we leave, his arm around my shoulder as we walk to my apartment. We arrive at my front door and I turn around facing him. “Well…” he begins, running his fingers through my hair.
“Thanks for walking me home.” I smile, loving the feeling of what he’s doing. Cian is good looking, still not over that he wants to be with me, and over time, he’s helped with my confidence. I’ve also made some friends, due to him and his popularity at the bar. When I walk in there now, I know everyone and everyone always talks to me. It’s not huge but something I’ve never had before – something I’ve always wanted. You know that scene in Saturday Night Fever when John Travolta walks in and everyone says “Hi”, pats him on the back and wants to be around him? Well, it’s not exactly to that extreme but it’s getting there.
“You’re most welcome.” We stare into each other’s eyes, his seeming to ask a question. Before I know what’s happening, he leans down, his eyes moving to my mouth. His lips cover mine, gentle at first then he kisses me harder, rougher. My arms encircle his neck as our mouths move together then his tongue enters my mouth. His hand moves across from my shoulder, down my side, until he’s cupping my breast, kneading, squeezing. It feels so good that I don’t want to stop. Should we go inside? We’re both panting heavily as he tweaks my nipple through the fabric then his hand moves again. Down. Down. Down. A sound vibrates through me from deep in my throat until it’s muffled by his mouth as he cups me through my jeans, his fingers running up at down as he does. I swear I’m soaked! “I need to go. Another time,” he says against my lips. What? He takes a step back. I stand there trying to catch my breath as he winks at me and starts down the stairs. “Soon.” I watch until the top of his head disappears and lean against my door. What just happened? Why would he get us both hot and bothered and then just leave? I end up taking a cool shower and climb into bed, having to take matters in my own hands. Well, with a vibrator.
The next Thursday night, West showed up at open mic and played his guitar. Cian and I sat next to each other, holding hands. I’m wearing a light blue sundress, wanting to dress up a little more than usual. More than once, I caught West looking at our entwined hands, never once making eye contact with me. Is he jealous? No! That’s just insane. We’re best friends. On the last break of the shows, I excused myself to go to the restroom. Sitting in the stall, I’m feeling giddy, really happy for the first time I can remember. I have friends. Not just a few but a lot. A wonderful, good looking man, who definitely makes me feel beautiful and wanted, and the best, best friend ever. The only confusing thing in my life is my feelings between Cian and West. Yes, West is my best friend, but over time, I’ve begun to feel more for him. Cian is great, treats me good, except for that one time against the wall but he profusely apologized for that. I have to admit, if only to myself, that Cian doesn’t give me those sparks or butterflies, like I’ve read in romance books. It could be because they are fiction yet I feel them every time West is around so I know they really do exist. I wish I felt that way about Cian. I don’t think West feels that way about me, and I won’t do anything to ruin our friendship.
“Do you think she is really that stupid that she doesn’t know? I mean come on… how much of an idiot can she be?”
My ears perk up to a conversation outside my stall.
“I don’t know, honey. But he goes out with a different woman every fucking night and I’m sure they aren’t just talking.”