Then try to convince him to give me more.
6
Drew
How did I get here?
I didn’t mean for this to happen again. In fact, I’d sworn I’d avoid it at all costs. Younger, bi dudes had always been my weakness, but Liam was by far the hardest I’d ever tried to resist. He was alternately goofy and fun, then sensitive and sweet. And always smart as fuck. I liked him. A lot. Probably too much.
We made a deal that whatever happened in the mountains would stay in the mountains. There would be no repeats. We wouldn’t speak of it again. If by some unlikely chance that weekend came up, we’d smile at the memory, change the subject, and move on. There was no reason to discuss our sleepover, the waffles we made the next morning, our sledding adventure on plastic saucers in the hills behind the house, or naked hot-tubbing with a bottle of wine under a billion stars and a crescent moon after we’d picked up his stuff from his friend’s cabin.
And above all, we wouldn’t talk about how incredible it felt to writhe naked against each other…all night long. Or how easy it was to just be with him. Easier than it had ever been with anyone else.
But that was supposed to be it.
It wasn’t.
Six weeks later, I couldn’t seem to stay away from Liam. He was like a ray of sunshine and a breath of fresh air. All he had to do was walk into a room and flash that wide, mischievous grin and he owned you. Men, women, kids, dogs…everyone loved him. He had a way of making whomever he was talking to feel like the only one who mattered. I’d figured that out about him when he first started at Bonne Terre. But I naively thought I could steel myself from his charms.
No such luck. Best intentions had no sway over his powerful gravitational pull. Liam wasn’t the kind of guy who could be ignored. He was a force of nature. I tried to keep my distance at the bistro, but it wasn’t possible. I was too aware of him. I found myself in his orbit—brushing against his arm, leaning in to hear one of his silly jokes or heavily embellished stories designed to make his audience laugh.
I didn’t feel weird about my sudden obsession either, because I knew he felt the same way about me. He was just cooler under pressure. He slipped notes into my pocket when no one was looking. They ranged in topic from, “You look hot” to “Don’t make me watch Gilmore Girls again.” Or today’s message on a folded Post-it Note… “My dick still hurts from last night.”
Oh, yeah…didn’t I mention that part? We were lovers. Secretly, of course. When I finally realized I couldn’t fight the feeling, I insisted that we keep it on the DL. I didn’t want to advertise that we were more than friends at work. On one hand, it didn’t seem professional. And on the other, I was afraid I wanted more than Liam did. He was a twenty-three-year-old, almost-college-graduate about to embark on life. I didn’t have a place in his future, and it rattled me more than I would have thought possible.
I wanted this light, breezy friendship and amazing sex with the coolest, best guy I knew to last.
It was a heady feeling to know this magnetic man wanted me. Only me. I probably didn’t do a great job of keeping my infatuation under wraps at the bistro, but I tried not to stare too long when he walked into a room or laugh too loudly at his jokes. It wasn’t easy. My emotions bubbled to the surface around him. I didn’t just feel happy. I felt…alive. Everything seemed brighter and more focused. Colors, sound, texture. He wasn’t just a breath of fresh air. He was oxygen.
Liam was easygoing by nature, but he had an intense side too. He had strong opinions about social justice and environmental issues and spoke thoughtfully about his convictions with an eloquence that made him seem older at times. He was interesting, intelligent, and smart as hell. I loved being with him and I craved having him to myself.
Since I lived alone, he stayed at my apartment a few nights a week. Yeah, the sex was amazing, but I liked simple things too…like making dinner together.
“Am I chopping this right?” he asked as he sliced a basil leaf in half.
“No, it needs to be a julienne cut.”
He quirked his brow and made a face. “Say, what?”
“Julienne. You roll the leaves and slice them into thin strips.” I set my cheese grater on the counter and moved to his side. “Want to trade jobs?”
“No. Teach me, master.”
I stacked a few basil leaves and gave pointers on how to get the thinnest strips before motioning for him to pick up his knife and do the honors. “Nice work. See? It’s easy.”