Friends

Chapter 33

A/N: Chapters 34-56 are on Patreon along with other exclusive scenes if you want to check those out!

Jasmine's POV:

He's nervous, sweating like he's guilty. No, Jasmine. Calm down. She's obviously someone he's known before you. For the longest time, you've thought any woman would be lucky to have him. Let's not bring out the crazy. Let's try to contain the crazy, but who is this woman?

"I can explain," he says slowly, his eyes flicking nervously between me and her. He knows he needs to pick his next words wisely. 'Let me explain'—something a guilty man would say... Relax. Calm the crazy down.

"I'm listening," I say, forcing a smile, though it feels more like a grimace.
Good job, Jasmine. You're doing great.

"She was the woman I was speaking to before you and I moved in together." he says, shifting uncomfortably.

"Oh, so she was just some fling before we moved in together?" I ask, feeling a weight lifting from my shoulders as relief floods me, like a burden being dropped.

"No, she's my first love," he says, and just like that, my stomach plummets. First love? The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My mind immediately flashes to the image of her—this woman he clearly still holds in some part of him. First love. The one who probably knows him in ways I never will.

I try to breathe. I try to keep it together. But it's like the word "first love" is a bomb, and I'm standing right next to it. Everything I thought I understood about us shatters in that moment. It feels like the ground beneath me just cracked wide open, and I'm sinking into it, deeper and deeper. No, Jasmine. Don't panic. But I can feel the walls of my chest tightening, the air thinning. My brain is working overtime, throwing a thousand thoughts at me in rapid-fire succession.

What does that even mean? Is she the one that got away? Does she still have a piece of him? Is she the one who got the first kiss, the first date, the first... everything?

I can't breathe. I can't think straight.

Do I ask more questions? That little voice inside me is screaming at me to stop. Don't ask. They say never ask about something you don't want to know the answer to. But now, the curiosity is eating at me. I can't stop myself. I need to know more, even though every fiber of my being is telling me this is a bad idea.

Don't ask. Don't. Ask.

But then the question bursts out before I can stop it: "So when did you two meet?"

Why did I just ask that? Why am I doing this to myself?

The answer could ruin everything. It could make me feel like I'm standing on a shaky foundation, wondering if I'm just the second choice. Maybe I'm just the one he is trying to settle for, the one who came after her. What if she's still in the back of his mind? What if she's the one he'll always compare me to? What if she's the reason he only wants to be friends with me?

I can't breathe. I need to stop. Just let it go, Jasmine. Don't do this to yourself.

"All right, how about I just tell you everything? Answer all the questions you may or may not have, even the ones you don't know you have yet. That way, the curiosity stops, and we can move on. Deal?" he asks, looking at me with those eyes that always seem to make me forget the world around us. Perfect. Just tell me everything so it doesn't eat me up, and we can move on.

"We met on a dating app while I was in college. I had my dating settings set to home, which was four hours away. After the first semester, we met up right here, where she worked. Ironically enough, the universe works in mysterious ways because, right when I started coming here to eat, she just got hired. I picked her up right after she got off work. Honestly, everything just clicked. Three months later, I asked her to be my girlfriend. She went into the military, and we both became different people. So, we decided to get to know each other without being in a relationship. She was always traveling—Japan, Florida, Texas. We told ourselves that when she was done with the military, or when she moved to Atlanta, we'd try again. Three years later, she moved here. We were gonna try again, but then her mother got sick, so she moved away to take care of her. A year later, her mom passed. I haven't really heard from her since. I thought she was going to stay at her mom's house after that, but to my surprise, she's back in Atlanta, and this is the first time I'm seeing her... when you're seeing her."

Before I can respond, he reaches across the table, his fingers lightly brushing mine. It's the slightest touch—gentle, almost as if he's afraid I might pull away—but it's enough to make me freeze, my heart stuttering in my chest.

"I know this sounds complicated, Jasmine. And I get it, I do. But I want you to know that whatever happened in the past... it's not what I want anymore." His voice drops a little, like he's trying to make sure I hear the sincerity in it. "You're the one I'm with now. And that means everything. I want to build something with you, not her."

His words are soft, but they pierce through the haze of my anxiety. For a moment, I feel the air shift, like the world is pressing pause, just for a breath.

I don't know if I believe him fully, but the warmth in his touch lingers, giving me something solid to hold on to, even if it's just for now.

"Did you lose your virginity to her, or did she lose hers to you?" I ask, my voice trembling slightly. The words leave my mouth before I even think about them. Why did I ask that?

The moment the question escapes, I can feel my stomach drop into my feet, the weight of it sinking me into the floor. Why is everything about sex with me? My mind instantly spirals. Why did I even need to ask that? What am I hoping to gain by knowing this? I feel like an idiot. I wish I could take it back, erase it from the air before it reaches Marc's ears. But it's too late.

I stare down at my hands, gripping the edge of the table like it's the only thing keeping me from falling apart. I blame Nya's influence on me. She always pushes me to ask the tough questions, to demand the truth, but now I just feel small. Stupid. Like I'm trying too hard to make something out of nothing. As if asking about virginity will somehow give me the answer I need, or worse, some kind of validation.

I want to shrink into the floor, disappear from this moment. But the words are hanging there, thick and suffocating. I can't take them back, and it feels like they're echoing in my head louder than anything Marc might say next.

"No," he answers, erasing all the anxiety in my body, filling my lungs with air, stopping the suffocation.

"But she is the first woman who made me cum from head. And I'm the first guy who made her... well, cum in general," he says.

That might actually be worse. I'd prefer if they just lost their virginities to each other.

"Oh wow, Marc, you're leaving out a lot of details about us," Maria comments, handing us our drinks and Marc his appetizer.

This bitch.

"Not to brag or anything, but... actually, no, I'll let him tell you. Y'all ready to order?" she says, laughing. Maria's words drip with a kind of smug amusement that makes my blood boil. Her tone is all wrong, like she's enjoying this too much. I try to focus on Marc, but she's standing right next to Marc. The way they look at each other, it's like no one else is in the building with them. The way she ignores me, almost as if, she's telling me she doesn't even see me as a threat. God, I hate her right now. Even the way she talks.

'Not to brag or anything.' Her sense of humor is just like Marc's. Even her mannerisms mimic his. And what does he need to tell me?

"No, we're not ready to order yet," I say, my voice tight. Hoping to get some kind of reaction out of her.

"I know you're gonna get your favorite appetizer, so don't even act like you're not ready to order," Maria adds, flashing a smug grin at Marc. Refusing to look at me.

I'm about to lose it. This woman is testing every last bit of my patience.