Page 49 of Back for Seconds

She laughed. “Like eight-year-olds? I guess I can’t believe you actually want to spend this much time with me.”

I brought her knuckles to my lips, dusting them with my lips. “Why? You’re funny, you’re smart, you’re a good listener…” And I liked looking at her little square nails—still painted red.

June watched me, bottom lip drawn between her teeth, brows pulled into a little furrow. “I’ve been really alone for a while. This…this is nice.”

A smile pulled at my lips at the same moment my erection twitched against the soft cotton of her leggings. “Only nice?”

She smirked back at me. “It’s really nice.”

I made a noise in the back of my throat. Her hands came to my cheeks. Her forehead met mine, and the cold tip of her nose pressed against my cheek.

“I like this too,” I whispered back, leaning sideways so I could see her profile. “And I think it’s more than nice.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I think it’s the most fun I’ve had in years.”

“Years,” she whispered, and I watched her lips dance around the letters.

“This is new to me too—this sort of thing. Like. A friendship and then also…” Also, I want you so badly it makes my chest hurt. “I really like having you around. I like that we talk about all the crazy, messy shit happening in our lives. I like how you listen, and honestly, I like the way I listen when I’m around you. I’ve never had that before.”

She broke away, sat up straight, looked down at me. “Same. And I don’t want to lose you, Joey. If we…keep kissing or not. I really like you. As a human. And I want you in my life.”

“Believe me.” I laughed gently. “June, I’m with you. You’re maybe the only reason I’m surviving this whole fucking…timeframe. You think I felt like celebrating anything before three days ago?” I shook my head. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

She pulled in a quick breath, clearly working herself up to something. “Even if we…want to see other people?”

I ignored the sudden, painful pressure in my chest. “Yes. Of course. Yes.”

“Promise?”

I tightened my hold on her. “Hey, I promise. I’m here, June.”

“No matter what?” she asked, dark eyes wide. A little bit more of a plea in her voice.

Truthfully, there was no one else in Evergreen for me. And maybe no one else on earth, but I was less sure of that. And I thought she felt that too. The insanity of this; the numbers game of finding someone who had been right there the entire time.

So, she felt something. Maybe not the remnants of her grandmother’s spirit knocking at the inside of her ribcage, attempting to communicate. But she felt how…fuck, how special this friendship was. Special. That was the word.

I locked my eyes on hers. “No matter what.”

June nodded, satisfied. Then she leaned forward and brought her mouth to mine.

She opened her mouth to me, and our kiss deepened, urgency swelling, rushing through me like a wave. I took her tongue into my mouth, pressed into her until she was rolling her hips against me, pulling a deep groan from inside my chest. My hands worked feverishly up over her hips to the soft, warm skin around her waist. I found the delicate edge of her lace bralette under her sweatshirt, traveling over the seam until I arrived at the heavy swell of her breasts. I hesitated, finger stopping at the elastic. “Can I?” I asked, my voice thick and shallow.

June leaned back and, in a fluid motion, pulled her sweatshirt over her head. She flicked her hair over her shoulders, sending the strands outward in a spray of darkness. Then she settled back against me.

“Please,” she said, her voice heavy and quiet—like mine.

The space between her breasts was covered in delicate ink. Intricate florals that contoured her breasts, trailing downward over her soft stomach, disappearing into the top of her leggings. Her face was flushed, her chest rising and falling as she watched my stunned expression.

I started at her collarbones, the pads of my fingers barely connecting with her skin as I traced the blue-black lines. Alternating heavy and light strokes intertwined to form ivy twisted with a flower—maybe a peony—leaves swooped downward, sweeping under the curve of her breasts before disappearing behind triangles of black lace. I followed the path of her tattoos down between her breasts, tracing the raw edge of the lace back up again. Her breathing came in deep inhales and shorter, taut exhales. When my knuckles grazed the erect pull of her nipples, we both inhaled sharply.

Friends. The word echoed through my mind. Did friends do this?

I slipped a trembling finger under her bra strap and slid it gently down her shoulder. For a moment, we both held our breath. Her hands jumped to her chest to catch the barely there fabric before it fell, her cheeks slightly more flushed. My fingertips lingered, trailing softly down her arm.

“Are you ok?”