Page 72 of A Little Kissing Between Friends

That thought pulled me up short. Of course I wasn’t the only bitch that Poppa could fuck. I’d seen firsthand, at least hundreds of times, how pussy would literally fall into her lap, so why was I even worried about her being here simply so that we can have sex again?

That was ridiculous.

But that just went to show how all over the place my mind was. Then I had to ask myself, hypothetically speaking, if she was here specifically for the sex, what would I do?

Was I okay with a piece of a relationship with my best friend whom I was in love with? Was I okay with only having half of Poppa’s heart? Would I be okay—would I be able to live with myself—if I took the offering of a piece of her relationship with someone who did not even see the entirety of my being?

That was the easiest thing for me to answer. And the answer was no, I wouldn’t be okay. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself and I wouldn’t be able to live with Poppa. Every facet of our relationship would shrivel and die, and I didn’t want that. So that meant I had to be prepared to walk away permanently.

Fifteen minutes later, after I’d scrubbed from head to toe, I sat on a teak bench and slathered on a shea body butter scented with jasmine and then quickly dressed in a pair of red bike shorts and a Houston Clutch oversized tank top in the team’s red, white, and gold colors. White slides completed the outfit.

After placing my sweaty clothes into a mesh bag with my name on it, I dropped them into the designated hamper and exited the locker room. Thick n’ Fit offered a laundry service for an extra fee and I regularly took advantage of it. I worked out four times a week and those clothes added up. I had no problem utilizing any convenience offered to me.

Back in the main gym, I swept my eyes over to the corner I’d left Poppa in, but she wasn’t there. Instinctively, I looked over at the front desk. There she was, leaning against the counter, one hand in the pocket of her shorts, the other holding her phone, head thrown back as she laughed at something Shay was saying. My gifts were on the counter by her elbow and she looked relaxed and unbothered.

She looked so good.

And she was here.

That counted for something.

Right?

It did. It meant she was willing to make the first move, and that? That was something Poppa didn’t have to do. The fact that she was doing it for me gave me hope that she maybe saw something different for us. She wasn’t handling this the same way that she handled every other situation with every other woman. Hell, most of her interactions with those other women never made it out of the bed buddy stage, so her being here, making a public display, said so much.

The only question was whether or not I was going to listen.

Chapter Twenty-One

Cyn

Big-Girl Panties

With my hands twisting the leather of my steering wheel, I followed Jucee home, trying and failing to tamp down the rambunctious gaggle of nerves taking up residence in my belly. She had been so quiet at the gym, and that was so unlike her, that I couldn’t help but think the worst. Her eyes were as expressive as always, but I needed to hear her voice, and it felt calculated when she kept it from me.

Parking beside her in the lot, I trailed her up the stairs and inside her apartment. She didn’t say a word as she toed out of her shoes and headed toward her bedroom, unaware that I watched her the whole time. When she disappeared down the hallway, I sighed and headed into the tiny kitchen, setting the bag of cookies onto the counter before crouching down and making some room on the lowest shelf in the refrigerator so I could place the bouquet of fruit on a stick inside to prevent spoilage.

Since I couldn’t do what I wanted to do after I finished that task, I shuffled into the living area and plopped down onto the couch, my hand on my right knee in a failed attempt to cull the bouncing that had begun as soon as I tried not to think about the things we’d done the last time we were in a bedroom together. It didn’t work, of course; I was failing at a lot of things these days.

I’d wanted to follow Jucee into her bedroom and push her onto the bed.

I wanted to climb over her, kiss her neck, and then her lips, and then her other lips until she forgave me and we were able to move forward and be together.

I wanted that so bad I could already taste her on my tongue.

But I couldn’t do that; I wouldn’t.

Because the sex with us was so perfect—so easy—and was often the palate cleanser at the end of whatever disagreement we had, I think Jucee thought that I used sex to manipulate her. I mean, she never told me no for anything after I gave her a screaming orgasm, but that was never my intention. I didn’t want that to be the go-to whenever we had problems, but I couldn’t deny that it worked in my favor more often than not. It wasn’t on purpose and I didn’t want to handle this with her the way I handled everything else with everyone else, because Jucee wasn’t like anyone else.

She wasn’t just my best friend, she was my heart. And because there was no way that I could lose a piece of my heart and continue to live as a whole person, I needed to make sure that everything was okay between us. Better than okay, actually. I needed to fix what I’d broken, and repair it in a way that made sure it never broke again.

The moment that she appeared, I jumped to my feet and started to head her way on instinct, but when she twisted her lips to the side and nervously rubbed her hands on her thighs, I stopped midstep. I’d been about to pull her into my arms and kiss on her, but I wasn’t sure if I could—or even should—do that anymore, or at least right now. So, I stood there awkwardly for a moment, willing her to come over to me, to hug me and kiss me and give me some affection.

She didn’t do any of that, of course, because we weren’t in a good place. I’d fucked up and I had to fix it for any of that to become my reality again. When she dropped her eyes from mine, I swallowed down the hurt and moved over to the foyer with my keys in one hand and my other fist shoved deep into my pocket. I needed something to occupy me so that I didn’t grab for her.

Jucee grabbed her purse off the couch and met me at the door.

“You ready?” I asked, even though she stood right in front of me looking more than ready, and maybe just as nervous as I was.