Chaser (Dive Bar #3)(54)

Her gaze shifted back to her own door, then to her bare feet, to my face, then off to the side again.

“Jean?” Just get it over with, and let me curl up in a heap in the corner of my bed.

“Ithinkweshouldstartsleepingtogether.”

“What did you say?” I leaned in closer. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

The woman took a very deep breath. “I realize you’ve been taking a break from sex, but I’ve been thinking, and maybe it would be okay if you and I were like friends who took things into the bedroom,” she said, and then rattled on without pause. “No pressure about the sex or anything. Neither of us are in a place to be thinking long term and we’ve both got so much going on that attempting a relationship would just be crazy. But I feel comfortable with you and I think that most of the time you feel comfortable with me too. And we both find each other attractive, it seems. At least, you said I was beautiful so I’m hoping you find me sexually attractive as well. If you don’t that’s totally fine. Like I said, no pressure. Either way, whether we have sex or not, we’d still definitely remain friends. I mean, of course we’d stay friends. You’re one of the people I’m closest to here, I don’t know what I’d do if we stopped talking, and you’re so great with Ada too. She absolutely adores you. So this whole sex thing would be totally separate from our friendship. Or it would be like, an addition to it. But not in the way that I expect it to go anywhere. Just two people who really like each other in a friendly platonic way having sex.”

I just stared. No wonder she’d taken a deep breath.

“Wait, does that make sense?” She frowned at her own words. “Platonic sex?”

“You keep saying sex.”

“I do, yes.”

“My brain kind of got a bit stuck on that.” I ran my tongue over my teeth, giving myself a moment to sort it all out in my head. I had failed to grasp the way this conversation was going to go, and it was taking me a moment to catch up. “Platonic friends who have sex … that’s what you’re suggesting?”

She raised her hand, fingers twitching. “Platonic is probably the wrong word there.”

“Probably.”

“Though in my defense, I’m sure Plato himself would have had sex and he’s kind of where the word came from and everything.”

“Right. Good that that’s settled.”

“Um, anyway,” she said, taking a step back. “You think about it. I’m going to go back into my apartment now and maybe we’ll talk about this later or maybe we won’t.”

“We’ll talk about this later. That’s a definite.”

“Sure. Okay.” Then the woman turned and ran back down the hallway, disappearing into her place. She could really move when she wanted to.

I stood in the now empty space, my brain not only hurting, but quite possibly more confused than ever. Jean wanted to have sex. At least, I was pretty sure that’s what her word vomit had been about. Unless the knock to the head had made me delusional. There was always a small chance. And the woman might think she and I getting horizontal would change nothing. But that was crap. Against all expectations, I’d gotten to a place in my life where I was pretty much best friends with a woman. I loved talking to her. I loved hearing about her day. She was funny and cool and kind and this could ruin everything.

“I should say no,” I mumbled.

Dammit.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Hold up,” said my brother, forkful of bacon hovering in front of his face. “Eric, are you actually complaining because a woman you’re attracted to wants to have sex with you?”

I paused. “Yes.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to do with that.”

Mom just laughed.

There weren’t many topics we couldn’t talk about in front of her. After hitting the gym in the morning, I’d ask Joe if he wanted to go talk Mom into cooking us breakfast. Usually, if I gave her really sad puppy dog eyes, she’d cave. Either that or pat me on the cheek and tell me to grow up. There was an even chance of either happening. That was our mom. She’d been a nurse for pretty much forever, so my black eye and pain meant little. Apparently, today had been my lucky day and she’d put out a full breakfast spread. Bacon, eggs, link sausage, biscuits. Meanwhile, Dad was hiding out in the shed making bird boxes or something. I don’t know.

“She’s going to ruin our friendship,” I said, finishing up chewing. “And it’ll be all her fault, not mine … for a change.”

“Don’t eat with your mouth open,” admonished Mom.

“Nell would skin you alive.” Joe chugged down some coffee. “You know that.”

“Nope,” I said. “I promised not to hit on Jean and I didn’t. She hit on me. Therefore, I’m off the hook.”

Joe snorted. “Like that’d save you.”

“C’mon, nothing I do is going to make Nell happy. I’m over even trying.”

“Think you’re probably right there,” he said. “You’ve turned yourself around at work, been putting in a lot more effort. I’ve noticed.”

“Thanks.”

“You decided to grow up, huh?” Mom smiled. “Good for you. I always knew you were capable of great things if you put your mind to it.”