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She wants to make a list of pros and cons about being more than friends. It doesn’t surprise me because this is how Lettie’s mind works. Make a list and check it off. Sometimes do it first and then check it off. Then there’s her spontaneous side. Our weekend sexcapade falls into that category.
When we were teenagers, we would make lists all of the time. Back then, she wanted boys who wanted to be outdoors. Cell phones and video games had taken over our age group’s lives. And Lettie didn’t have a cell phone until I bought her one for Christmas. But the first morning after I gave her the phone, we started our morning texts.
Me: Morning. Calculus or Trig?
Lettie: Morning. Twain or Hemingway?
She loves math, and I love to read. It started out always being a choice. Sometimes we answered back in text but more often, we talked about it in person at lunch in the courtyard or on the way to school. It moved into asking about who we would prefer to date or who was better looking.
Me: Josh or Henry?
Lettie: Jenny or Kim?
I think about her list back then and subconsciously, she wanted someone like me. Or maybe she wanted me. Did she?
“Okay, let’s do it,” I say, and her head snaps in my direction. Wide eyes, it’s possible she thinks I meant to have sex. “The list, Lettie. The list.” She swallows, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“You say a pro, and I’ll say a con, then we’ll switch,” she says.
“Pro: You taste like a sugar cookie… so fucking sweet.”
Her face reddens, and she shakes her head. “Con: Unprepared. No condom.”
“What? Having sex at my dad’s fundraiser wasn’t on my radar,” I argue. She tilts her head and smirks. Now it’s my turn. “Con: I won’t be able to concentrate on basketball because I’ll be thinking about you.”
Not that it’s that much different than the past three years of college. But for the first two and half, I slept around to push her out of my mind. It may have worked in the short term, but I obviously snapped last night.
“Pro: I wouldn’t need to find guys to fill my needs.” His cheeks round and her eyebrows flit, as she flirts with me.
Just thinking about her with another man, my voice changes to a low, raspy tone. “We both know I’m the only one who can fill every need you have.” I pull off the parkway onto a side country road and park in a long driveway. Push my seat back. Pull her into my lap. Move her panties to the side and fill her with my fingers. Soon, she’s panting, and my name falls off her lips like my name is two syllables—"Da…ane.”
“Pro: I would get to hear you moan every day.”
Lettie scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Obviously, this is only about sex to you—we need to be serious. This is our friendship we’re trying not to ruin.”
“I am serious. Having daily sex with you would loosen me up and would relieve my stress levels, not having to swallow that you may end up in bed with one of my teammates. Cause I hated that fucking shit. None of those guys deserved you, Lettie. None of them.”
She brushes her lips over mine. “How do you think I felt with your one-nighters? Taking girls to your room and the sickening feeling every time girls would be so forward as to palm you through your pants. Their fake nails tracing your abs, looking up at you like they’ll do whatever naughty sex act you command. I can never live up to those standards.”
I cup her face in my hands, standards? “You’re kidding, right? You’re the fucking gold standard. The standard I compare every other girl to is—you.”
As I stare into her eyes, it hits me like a ton of bricks. I love her more than as a best friend. But I also know her as well as I know myself. Maybe even better. Sometimes we don’t see ourselves for who we really are. It’s easier to see someone else’s beauty and imperfections rather than our own. Lettie can’t fathom me loving her and even though I know I do, I’m freaking the fuck out. We’ve been at each other’s side for so long, my emotions are mixing together, and I know I can’t lose her.
When I explain why I feel she’s the epitome of a woman for me, she overlaps her lips with mine, gently taking my top lip in hers, then I take her bountiful bottom lip in mine.
She gently rolls her hips, making me harden underneath her. Our mouths continue to tangle, smack, and explore.
She rests her forehead against mine as she works herself into a lather. I feel her dampening on my shorts. Lettie grinds against my groin, and my balls tingle. “Why does dry rubbing with you have to be perfect?” she asks, strained by a mouthful of air.
I move her hips faster, sucking the delicate skin of her neck that I know I’ve left marks. She lifts herself from me and comes back down hard, rolling over my abs, then my erection. Lettie grips my shoulders, rubbing her covered clit against my tip, and I push her hips down so there’s no air.
And she succumbs to her orgasm, and her hair falls like curtains on the sides of my face. “Has dry humping ever felt so good?” she asks in a hushed tone,
My balls are so tight, they hurt when I try to adjust in the seat. Laughing over her skin, I respond, “Haven’t done it for years, but I have a feeling everything we do together will feel amazing.”
We hold each other while I brainstorm the words to use to tell Lettie how I feel without scaring her off. Without using the word love. We cannot confuse the love we already have for each other with everlasting love. Not yet.
Tucking her hair behind each ear, I study her post-orgasmic glow. I clear my throat. “I know it’s confusing the way I slept around but… I was just trying to get through each day, watching you with other guys. The night of the football bonfire was the night I made a conscious decision to be better. Because you deserve better. I was no better than those assholes if I kept taking random women to bed when I knew I was hung up on you.”
