His fingers close and he tugs me to him.
I come to a stop as my breasts collide with his chest.
Marshal’s lips come to my forehead. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a sleepover.”
“Last night,” I remind him.
“That one wasn’t planned. What do friends do at a sleepover? Watch movies. Oh, should we stop for popcorn?”
I tilt my head. “Do you have a movie in mind?”
“No,” he says as he cups my behind, tugging me closer. “I can’t think of one title at the moment.”
“Are you still hungry?” I ask with a grin, my mind going to all he’s eaten.
“Not for popcorn.”
“Then I guess we don’t need to stop.”
Sami
“Either spill or set me up with your friend Marshal.”
I look up from my computer, lost in the advertising proposal I was putting together for a big athletics company. I like my campaign and feel like it should be well received. I’ve constructed it all on my own, but I was currently double-checking those of other companies, making certain what I came up with isn’t already out there.
Sometimes what seems like unique ideas could have been subconsciously planted by observing other advertising. The last thing my firm wants is a lawsuit claiming copyright or trademark infringement.
“Sorry,” I say to Linda. “What?”
She hands me a cup of coffee. I recognize the white cup. It's from the corner shop. As she does, she grins and lifts her shoulders innocently. “Something’s up," she says. "I can sense it. Last Friday it was a million flowers and you were distracted. Today you’re on cloud nine. And you’re focused, but every now and then you just smile. Is it Jack? What did he do?”
I take a deep breath. “Um, no. It's not Jack.”
“What’s not Jack?” Marcy asks as she appears around the corner of the cubicle.
A pang of guilt hits me. “I should have told you first thing this morning. I canceled the wedding.”
Linda’s eyes go wide. “Holy crap. You did what? When were you going to tell us?”
From the neighboring cubicle, Ashley pops her head over the partition. Whenever she does that move, it always reminds me of that neighbor on an old television show my mom used to watch. You never saw the neighbor's whole face. I think his name was Wilson.
“What did I just hear?" Ashley asks. "Damn it, Sami, I already bought your gift.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I should have said something first thing. My mom is sending out regrets. It’s just…”
“Break time,” Linda announces with a clap of her hands.
The clock on the corner of my computer says 9:35. It’s hardly time for break. But from experience, I know I’ll never get work done if I don’t indulge Linda and Ashley for at least a few minutes.
As soon as we all enter the break room, Ashley slams the door and begins her rapid-fire questions.
“What the hell? Details, girl. Now. Was it Jackson? He wasn’t as good in bed as you thought?”
Marcy joins in. “I think you tasted a different nectar and decided Jack’s wasn’t sweet enough.”
I square my shoulders. “What?”
“Set me up with Marshal,” Linda says, crossing her arms over her chest.
“What?” I ask again.
“It’s him. Isn’t it?” Marcy asks. Her lips pursed and her brow furrowed, as if she's asking me the most incriminating of questions.
“It wasn’t,” I answer truthfully.
“Wasn’t?” Ashley and Marcy repeat together.
“Are you seriously triple-teaming me?” I ask, walking toward the watercooler and pouring myself a cup. I know I have coffee on the table, but I need to move. As the cooler bubbles, I feel all six eyes on my back, waiting, ready to pounce.
I turn around in time to see them eyeing one another.
“Okay," I say. "Promise to keep it quiet. I mean, like, to your graves, never tell a living soul?”
Again, Linda, Marcy, and Ashley look at one another.
“Is it that big of a deal?” Linda asks.
I love her. We’ve been friends since my first day at the advertising firm. She's refreshingly simple and direct. She says exactly what she’s thinking, which, by the way, is a complete contradiction to her work. She’s amazing at advertising. She’s one of those smart-as-shit people with a naïve personality.
“It kind of is,” I say as I sit at the lunch table with my coffee and water in front of me. Taking the lid off the coffee Linda brought me, I blow lightly on the steaming liquid and await their answers.
“Swear,” Linda says as she sits.
“Pinky swear,” Ashley says as she plops down next to Linda.
“Yes, you can have my firstborn,” Marcy volunteers. We all look her way. “What? I mean, when I have a firstborn.”
Everyone’s focus returns to me.
I take a deep breath and let it all out. “Last Thursday, the night before the flowers all showed up here,” I begin, “I went home early and found Jack with someone.”
“Like a business thing?” Ashley asks.
Marcy’s eyes widen, but she remains silent.
Linda’s jaw clenches as she stares my direction. “With?”
“With,” I confirm with a nod.
“And yet,” Marcy says, “I didn’t see you on my newsfeed for murder.”
I shrug. “Had I been thinking clearer…”
“Wait. What?” Ashley asks. “Jack? He what?”
Linda, Marcy, and I continue our conversation. “What did you do?” Marcy asks.
“I freaked the shit out. I left my engagement ring on the counter and called Marshal.”
Marcy leans back in her chair and nods. “Sweeter nectar.”
I close my eyes, deciding if I should share. Once I close my eyes, my mind is filled with Marshal's words of encouragement: the way he supported me at my parents' house, the way he filled me and surrounded me, the way he's never lied to me, and the way my core clenches at the emptiness that comes after his monster cock pulls out of me.
But…
I know.
Marshal is my friend.
I know I don’t want to lose that.
We made our agreement before we were even teenagers. We might have amended our agreement so that we now have benefits, but this situation won’t last forever.
This is Marshal Michaels.
He lives in the right now.
I refocus on Linda. She may be naïve, but she’s also the voice of reason. “…your parents…?”
I shrug again. “It seems as though they never really liked Jack. My dad apparently would have voted him off the island.”
Marcy’s eyes widen. “What island?”
Linda nods, going on as if Marcy hasn’t spoken. “He had an air.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, suddenly defensive that neither my friends nor family approved of my ex-fiancé.
“It means…good the hell for you.”
I can’t help but smile.
“Marshal?” Linda asks. “Are you still willing to hook me up?”