Page 80 of All Our Almosts

“Andy—” I moan, barely able to breathe. “We have to stop.”

“Mm mm,” he dissents, not breaking his rhythm for even a moment. And you know what? That’s actually a really good point. My fingers twine into his hair as I hold him in place, needing more, aching and climbing higher.

“ANDY!” Satan screams from the hallway. “Open up right now or I’m calling the police!”

Lia would definitely not be calling the police, but the neighbors thinking she’s going to call the police would be suboptimal.

Summoning all of my willpower and then some, I gently push Andy’s shoulders back. “We have to get her.”

His mouth lingers along the inside of my thigh. “I don’t want to.”

“I know.” I shift back, putting a torturous amount of space between us before pulling his face up to mine. I can taste myself on his lips, and it’s so unexpectedly hot that I almost forget what I was doing. But the pounding starts up again and it has me pulling back, pressing our foreheads together as I sigh, “Will you go get her?”

Andy growls—like a literal growl sound comes out of his mouth. It makes me burst into loud laughter.

“I can hear you in there! Open up right this second!”

Glowing with white hot frustration, Andy stands from the bed and hauls on a pair of sweatpants, then heads out into the living room. He’s completely unpresentable—shirtless, hair sticking in every direction, smoke coming out of his ears—and the sight makes me laugh even harder.

I tuck my naked body under the covers and listen for the start of his confrontation with Lia. There’s the sound of the front door opening, then a gritted, “Hello, Amelia.”

(Oooh, full name. She’s really in trouble.)

“Andrew Motherfucking Walsh,” she says at an unfathomably loud volume, “if you don’t let me in this apartment right this second—”

He must pull her inside, because I hear the door click closed before Lia continues.

“Are you shitting me, Andy? This is the thanks I get for talking you off the ledge all week? You just send a fucking crazy picture and then ignore my texts and calls? If I find out that picture was a joke I’m going to have your balls in a jar. I swear to God. I will pluck them off you myself.”

Footsteps pound inside the apartment. Another door opens—maybe the door to my room?—followed by some shuffling sounds.

“Where is she?”

Andy doesn’t reply, pissed off as he is, and I can hear Lia starting to get frantic, so I call out, “I’m in here!”

There’s a pause—no sound at all. Then someone is stomping towards Andy’s room and flinging the door open.

“Oh my god, it’s real!”

Lia is—comically—dressed for combat. Her hair is in a slickback ponytail and she’s wearing black Doc Martens, wide-leg khaki pants, and an oversized army jacket. I would stake my life on a bet that she intentionally dressed for battle today.

“Sophieeee!” she squeals, launching herself onto the bed and grappling me. “I’m so happy for you. You have to tell me everything. Start immediately after the kiss and hit me with excruciating detail. Pretend he’s not here.” She gestures half-heartedly in Andy’s direction—Andy who’s standing with one arm propped against the doorframe, eyes locked on me, and that same dopey smile back on his face.

He shakes his head. “I think our friendship has crossed some important lines.”

“Shut up,” Lia barks over her shoulder. “Men don’t get it.”

“Sophie is literally naked, and you’re sitting on the sheets we had sex in.”

Lia explodes backwards off the bed like a landmine. “Ah! God! Jesus! Fuck!” She starts rubbing at her clothes like she can shake off the cooties with enough determination. Her expletives continue as she shoves past Andy back into the living room, voice traveling with her. “Okay well I have to go take a million showers and then jump into the Sun, but I am truly so happy for you guys. Really.” I hear the front door open before Lia adds, “And you better be good to her, Andy. I’m serious. I love you, but she’s out of your league and I’ll kill you if you hurt her.”

He replies, “I know, Lia. Believe me, I know.”

And I would love to pause there and unpack that at length. What does he know? That Lia will kill him if he’s mean to me? Or that I’m out of his league? I mean, we all know I’m not actually out of his league—I’d like to paint myself generously and say we’re pretty evenly matched—but is he saying he thinks I’m out of his league? Or is he just saying he knows he has to be nice to me or Lia will be mad? I really hope it’s the former—if only because it’ll make me feel a little better about my mid-sex “I love you” if he’s as into this as I am.

I consider just asking him. For a few seconds I really consider it. But when I go to open my mouth I just can’t let myself be that needy this early on.

(And honestly, I’m a little scared of his answer.)