Just Friends (Blue Beech) Page 3

  Not exactly a compliment when a chick takes off her glasses before sex.

  Please change your mind. Please change your mind.

  I chew on my lower lip while shuffling my feet on the floor. My heart has never beat so hard. I’m sure I look frenzied as fuck.

  She eyes me in expectation. “Get naked. Get on top of me. We’ll have sex.” She waves her hand through the air. “You don’t have to make it special, kiss me, or any of that nonsense. Just stick your … penis into my vagina, pop my cherry, and we’ll be all good.”

  “Jesus, Lina!” I run my hands through my hair. “That’s not how it works.”

  “Uh, yes, it is. I’m a virgin, not dumb.” She taps her palm against the bed. “Let’s do this.”

  My dick twitches and is growing harder by the second. I’m shocked she hasn’t mentioned the hard-on showing through my sweatpants.

  I pull at the roots of my hair. “Swear to me, this won’t change anything between us.”

  “I swear it.”

  I inhale deep breaths before tugging off my T-shirt and locking my door. Her eyes are pinned to me when I drop my sweatpants, and I give myself a silent pep talk to keep my cool through this. I hesitate when my fingers hit the band of my boxer briefs, deciding to keep them on for now.

  Her coffee-brown eyes meet mine as I climb onto the bed, anxiety slithering through me like a snake. The confident demeanor she’s worn is melting away.

  I pull back. “We can stop.” I have no damn problem with that.

  She frantically shakes her head and shifts in place. “No. Keep going.”

  I pull the comforter back, and she squirms underneath me as I crawl over her. A breath catches in my throat when I reach out, trailing a finger down her body and then between her legs.

  She tenses, squeezing her legs together and trapping my finger. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting you ready,” I explain, resting my hand on her thigh.

  “What? Why?” I can hear the horror lacing her questions.

  “I can’t just shove my dick inside you, Carolina.” My voice thickens. “The wetter you are, the less it’ll hurt. I want to make this comfortable for you, and that calls for foreplay.”

  Her chest hitches. “Oh … then I guess we can do a quick foreplay.”

  I shake my head, unable to fight back my smile. Who says, we can do a quick foreplay?

  She spreads her legs wide, giving me permission, and I’m surprised my hand isn’t shaking as I drag it between her legs. I rake a finger between her slit, moving it back and forth before circling it around her clit.

  She gasps when I slowly push a finger inside her.

  My dick aches. She’s so goddamn tight.

  “Relax,” I whisper, waiting for her to do as I said before moving.

  I hold back until her shoulders slump against the sheets and her muscles ease before I stroke her. The more I stroke her, the more she relaxes.

  “Has anyone ever done this to you?” I rasp, keeping my eyes on her.

  Her eyes have been closed since the first thrust of my finger, and I’ve been waiting for them to open.

  “Once,” she whispers, her legs trembling, and a sense of satisfaction hits me when she starts moving against my hand. “It was never like this. Never felt like this.”

  My satisfaction is hit with anger.

  Who the fuck did she let in her panties, and how can I find him to kick his ass?

  I quicken my thrusts and hesitate before adding another finger and massaging her clit. With how tight she is, sex will be painful for her. I want to make this as comfortable as I can, to make her feel good. I don’t want her to have the typical losing my virginity sucked, hurt, and I didn’t get off experience.

  My mouth waters. As badly as I want to drop my head between her legs and taste her, I hold back.

  We’re already crossing one fucking serious line.

  That’s enough.

  I love the sound of her soft moans floating through my bedroom.

  “You okay?” I ask around a gulp.

  She nods, and her voice is scratchy when she replies, “I think I’m ready. Do you have a condom?”

  I want to keep stroking her, keep playing with her, to get her off, but I only nod. I rub her clit a few more times and then carefully draw my fingers out of her. I can’t hold myself back from dropping a single kiss onto her stomach. I bring my hand into a fist, release it, and reach over her, snagging a condom from my nightstand.

  Her eyes dart to mine as I pull down my briefs, my cock popping free, and then she shyly looks away as I slide on the condom. She stiffens, and her eyes slam shut when I align myself at her center.

  “Carolina, you have to look at me,” I say. I’m as nervous as she is.

  She opens one eye at a time.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask. “We can back out.”

  “Positive,” she firmly answers.

  I take a deep breath. I wasn’t expecting this tonight—to have this load of pressure dropped onto me. She’s handing me something so precious to her, trusting me to do it right, and I don’t want to let her down.

  I can’t believe we’re doing this.

  I grab her hips, tilting them up, and gently slide inside her.

  I can’t stop myself from groaning.

  Fuck. She feels like heaven.

  I slide in deeper and stop. “You good?”

  She nods, forcing a small smile even though I can sense her pain.

  I move again. “Still good?”

  Another nod, tension clear on her face.

  I halt. “Switch spots with me.”

  She winces. “Huh?”

  “It’ll be less painful if you’re on top. You can control how much of me you take,” I explain, slowly pulling out of her.

  She reaches forward and grabs me around the back, her nails digging into my skin to stop me from moving. “I can’t … get on top of you.” She gestures to our connection with her free hand. “This is fine. We’ll stay like this.”

  My voice softens. “Tell me if you change your mind or if it hurts too much.”

  I notice a faint smile on her lips, and her hand briefly rubs my back before dropping.

  “I trust you, Rex. I trust you more than anyone.”

  I softly squeeze her hips and thrust all the way in, causing her back to arch and a gasp to leave her. I stop again, giving her time to adjust to my size, and I gulp as her tightness overwhelms me.

  My head spins while I slowly push in and out of her. My pace is not only to lessen her pain. I’m also fighting to stop myself from busting inside her in seconds. I smile like a motherfucker when I notice it’s starting to feel good for her. Her hips move up to meet mine, and she moans.

  I want to run my hands up her stomach, push up her bra, and play with her breasts, but I can’t. This is purely sex. Nothing more. So, I play with her clit instead.

  She moans again, setting me off.

  My face goes to her neck as I quicken my thrusts.

  I hold back from telling her how fucking perfect she feels.

  How tight she is.

  How much I love being inside her.

  My hips jerk, and I move faster yet also cautiously, still not wanting to hurt her. I’m close to reaching my brink, but I need to make her feel good. I rotate my hips and mentally give myself a high five when a high-pitched moan leaves her, and she grinds against me.

  It’s somewhat of an orgasm.

  Not a full yell-out-my-name one, but there’s more pleasure there than pain.

  This is when I can’t stop myself from bucking forward faster. Shocking us both, I smash my mouth to hers as I come. My lips move from hers to her ear, sprinkling kisses along the way, and I bury my face in her neck.

  “Fuck, Lina,” I groan, exploding into the condom, shivering.

  My hands rest at each side of her head as I pull back, and I glance down at her, both of us catching our breaths.

  Her lips tilt into a shy smile. “
Thank you.”

  I return the smile. “It was my pleasure.”

  It was a bad idea, but I love that I was her first.

  That she gave me that.

  I also hate her for it.

  Now, I know what it feels like to be inside her.

  No matter what she said, our relationship will change.

  Carolina has ruined other girls for me, but I have to fight it.

  We can’t have that type of relationship.

  “Now, I can’t breathe,” she says with an awkward laugh, breaking me away from my thoughts.

  I pull back, noticing I’m still giving her some of my weight, and rise. I grab my boxer briefs, go to my bathroom to get rid of the condom in the trash, and turn on the light when I return to my bedroom.

  Carolina pulls the sheets up her chest before sitting up while I tug on my briefs.

  “Oh my God!” she suddenly gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.

  My attention moves to what she’s looking at.

  Blood on the sheets.

  It’s not a lot, but it’s there.

  “It’s fine,” I say gently. “I’ll throw them in the wash. No big deal.”

  “What … what about your mom?” she stutters out.

  “I’ll do them myself. She won’t even see, and if she does, I won’t tell her it was you.”

  She nods.

  I bend down and kiss her forehead. “Like it never happened.”

  “Like it never happened,” she repeats.

  I just took my best friend’s virginity.

  And now, I’m supposed to act like it wasn’t the best fucking moment of my life.

  4

  Carolina

  College—Sophomore Year

  “Pretty, pretty please come out with me tonight,” my dormmate, Margie, begs.

  I open my mouth to tell her I’ll pass when my phone beeps with a text from Rex.

  My Main Man—I did not put this as his name: Sorry, Lina babe. I’ve already made plans. We’re going out tonight for Nigel’s b-day. I can come by later if you’re awake, or tomorrow night, I’m all yours.

  His response shouldn’t piss me off as much as it does, but tonight’s the second Friday he’s had other plans. Sure, expecting him to hang out with me every weekend isn’t fair, but damn it, he should hang out with me every weekend.

  Call me codependent; I don’t care.

  Rex has always been my security blanket.

  I was here without him for a semester last year while he deferred, undecided on his major. Undecided meaning, he spent that semester arguing with his parents. They wanted him to go into law or politics. He didn’t. It’d always been the plan for the Lane boys to follow in their father’s footsteps. Kyle, his older brother, sank half of that dream when he dropped out of school to become a police officer.

  His drop out pushed their pressure onto Rex.

  I can’t picture Rex as an attorney or in politics.

  It’d bore him to death.

  His parents eventually grasped there was no changing his mind, and being obsessed with their image, they found him not attending college more embarrassing than him majoring in computer science.

  He now attends Iowa State with me.

  Having him here has been a relief. My first semester, I was either driving home to Blue Beech regularly or he was making the two-hour trek, so we could see each other.

  Him being here has helped with the loneliness of my college life.

  Him being here has also fueled a spark of jealousy inside me.

  The dating pond was small in our high school.

  Here, it’s a freaking ocean.

  Panic spills through me every time I catch a girl hitting on Rex. The fear that one of them could possibly be the girl who changes his life, who steals his heart and takes him from me. Even though he denies it, one day, I’ll lose him to another woman.

  It’s no party, being in love with your best friend, let me tell you.

  Rex has been anti-relationship since the first day we hung out. His parents’ dysfunctional marriage has him convinced that relationships are toxic and nothing but forced expectations. He’s so afraid of failure, of ending up like his father, that he pushes away at any mention of the word commitment.

  My friendship with Rex is the longest relationship he’s ever had.

  He’s not a fan of relationships.

  I’m not a fan of getting my heart broken.

  Friends it is with us.

  Even after giving him my virginity, I’ve never expected more from him. That night, he changed the sheets while I went to the bathroom, and we awkwardly said our good nights. The next day, we acted like it never happened. Neither one of us has muttered a word about the night I randomly walked into his room and demanded he take my V-card.

  Margie snapping her fingers in front of my face breaks me away from the I’m pissed at Rex thoughts. “You. Me. Going out. Your sad face says you need a drink, and I will gladly help with that.”

  When I first met Margie—a bleached blonde wearing a miniskirt and suede knee-high boots—I thought there was no way we’d get along and that I was in for a miserable year.

  I was so wrong.

  Margie is a girlfriend I wish I’d had in high school.

  She’s popular, but she always tries to include me in everything she does.

  “Hey,” I argue. “I don’t have a sad face.” I force my lips into a smile.

  “You’re definitely sporting a sad face.” She plops down on the side of my bed. “You know what goes well with sad faces?”

  “I have a feeling you’re about to tell me, and it’s not going to be a proven fact,” I grumble.

  “Alcohol. It’ll turn that frown upside down.” Her tone turns into a whine. “Come on. You’ve gone out with me a total of three times—”

  “You’re keeping track?” I interrupt.

  “Yes, so I can hold it against you every time you say no.”

  “All right.” I dramatically sigh. “You talked me into it.”

  She tilts her head to the side, as if she didn’t hear me correctly. “Huh?”

  I shrug. “Having fun tonight sounds better than Netflix.”

  She leaps up from the bed, squealing, and then breaks into an obnoxious dance. “Girls’ night! We’re going to have so much fun; you’ll be begging me to go out every night!”

  Doubt that.

  The less people-ing in my life, the better.

  I change out of my sweats into a snake-print minidress. Margie forced me to go shopping with her after we met. As soon as we walked into the boutique, my eyes went straight to this dress. She snatched it from my hands before pushing me into a dressing room and handing it back, insisting I try it on. The dress is hot—not something I’d normally wear since party attire isn’t needed much in my life. When I refused to buy it, she did and hung it up in my closet just in case.

  That just in case is happening tonight, apparently.

  “And put these on, too,” she says, shoving strappy black heels into my hands. “You’re going to look so hot.” She whistles when I’m finished. “Day-um. It looks even hotter on you now than it did in the boutique. I’m going to have the sexiest wingwoman tonight.”

  I run a hand down the dress with a satisfied smile. “Thank you. I still need to pay you back for it.”

  She waves off my response. “Consider it a dorm-warming gift. Now, put on some makeup, and let’s blow this joint. Lewis, the guy with dreads down the hall, is having predrinks in his room. We’ll pregame and then go party-hopping.”

  I nod, quickly putting in my contacts, swiping on mascara, and adding light-pink gloss to my lips. She grabs my hand as soon as I slide the lip gloss into my bag and hauls me down the hallway.

  The fact that I don’t break an ankle in the heels is a miracle.

  I still have the rest of the night to worry about it, though.

  I’m not the most coordinated person wearing flats, so fingers crossed I don’t bust my ass.


  “Margie, you brought a friend!” a guy calls out when we walk in.

  His dreads are a sure sign he’s Lewis. I’ve also passed him in the hall a few times since our dorm is coed.

  Rex isn’t a fan of my coed living situation and has suggested I request a transfer more times than I can count.

  I notice three guys and a girl in the corner of the room, their attention glued to their phones.

  Lewis shuts the door and points at me. “I’ve seen you before. You’re in my Social Science class.”

  I nod and offer a friendly smile.

  “For that, I’m making you a drink.”

  He takes the few steps to a desk covered with alcohol bottles and sodas. My eyes widen as he hurriedly pours vodka into a red Solo cup and adds a splash of Pepsi. He has a dopey smile on his face when he hands it to me.

  Margie plucks it from my hand in seconds. “You’re not drinking this.” She gives it back to Lewis, pats my shoulder, and grabs a bottle of beer from the other desk. “Here, this is much more your style, babe.”

  My style is actually tequila. It’s the drink Rex and I secretly and frequently sipped on in his room, straight out of Gatorade bottles.

  Margie points at me. “Don’t take anything from anyone while we’re out tonight.”

  Margie reminds me of Rex.

  Apparently, I have an affinity for people who like to boss me around.

  “I’m a big girl,” I say. “Older than you as a matter of fact.”

  “Is that why you go to bed at the same time as my grandma?” Her face turns serious. “Carolina, I love you and all, but you fail at the party scene. Lewis could’ve handed you roofied mouthwash, and you would’ve trusted him and drunk it.”

  “Okay, you’re rude,” I mutter.

  “Stay by my side. Don’t accept drinks from creeps. Steer clear of frat guys.”

  “I’ll do my best not to drink drugged Listerine, Mom.”

  She kisses my cheek. “That’s my girl.”

  The house is crowded when we walk in. A different song pounds from every room, and my shoulders bump into people when I follow Margie into the kitchen.