Means to an end

An attempt of sorts

Nicolas

She'd been late, which was unexpected. At first, I thought that it's probably nothing, she was just having fun with Sierra and didn't check the time. But half an hour after she was supposed to be at my place and there was no sight of her, I was getting seriously worried that she wouldn't come at all.

My stomach turned, as I leaned on the kitchen table. Maybe she'd come to her senses, decided that what had happened between us was unacceptable, and this friendship thing was over? Perhaps she just hadn't had any idea of how to tell me that?

At this point - not that it wouldn't break my heart - even a simple text would suffice.

Unwillingly, I've brought the memories of that evening back to the forefront of my mind. Had it all been a little impulsive and massively stupid? Yes. Did I regret it? Only if she did, which up to this point, she hadn't really shown the signs of.

I'd tried to make it as much non-binding as I could. She'd wanted to feel desired and practically asked me to sleep with her, so I did my best to deliver. I could've declined her, technically, but hadn't, both because it's not like I was innocent in all of this and didn't wish for it myself, and because I wasn't sure what would've been worse - accepting or turning her down, risking she felt rejected. I'd specifically done whatever I could to organize it so that she would get the most out of it.

It'd all been so confusing lately. Ever since she opened up about her romantic interests, everything had spiralled. And the funniest thing was that I still had no freaking clue if she liked me or not. I was attractive to her, that I could definitely tell, since she'd looked at me with those lustful eyes and moaned beautifully when I'd been cherishing her body. Yeah, sure, she'd found me sexy in that instance, and that was at least something, but I didn't aspire to being a toy to experiment on until she'd fall for someone else. I longed to be hers, period. A partner, a permanent fixture, a person she'd spend the rest of her life with. I would've liked to know if that was possible.

I'd take what she'd give, though, up to a certain degree. I couldn't bed her properly, for instance, because then I'd simply not be able to let her go and be with someone else. That would be selfish. But if she were open to kissing me again? That I wouldn't mind as much, that was more innocent, right? Friends kiss sometimes, don't they? She'd tasted so sweet, and was so keen to reciprocate my affections once her brain caught up with what had been happening.

Images of her naked, laying before me trustingly, staring at me with those mossy eyes, flashed beneath my eyelids. She'd always been exquisite to me, but that view was the most mercilessly stunning of all. The freckles on her rosy cheeks, pouring down to adorn her shoulders. The uneven breaths, making her shapely tits move up and down. The absurdly wet space between her invitingly open legs.

I cursed under my nose, exhaling shakily and gripping the countertop. I was hot-and-bothered after this session of reminiscing, and that wasn't really something I'd planned on, since she could be there any second.

Hoping she'd eventually show up, I'd left a post-it note on the table, letting her know that I'm in the bathroom, and went to take a cold shower.

The freezing water cooled me down, ridding me of pornographic memories of my best friend.

When I walked out, being in the middle of putting on a clean t-shirt, I saw that she was sitting on my bed, typing on her phone. She looked up at me, parted her lips to speak, took in the part of my stomach that wasn't yet covered, and immediately blushed, averting her eyes.

That made me smile. Okay, it is nice to know she finds me good-looking.

"Hey, J. I was worried about you. Did you have fun with Sierra?"