Rett
I’m glad I got out of there when I did. Thankful for the slight slouch I now have, thanks to my bruised ribs, I was able to hide the fact my best friend—once again—succeeded in causing me to have another visceral reaction like I’ve been having as of late whenever I think of her.
The fact she seemed dazed the moment her fingers touched my lip has me wondering if this unwanted attraction I have for her is more than one-sided.
Nah!
I make my way to the bedroom area of the trailer, grab some clean underwear, a T-shirt, and a pair of shorts from the drawers under the bed and head to my tiny-assed shower.
Turning the water on, I discard my wallet, car keys, my work ID, and pocket change onto the back of the toilet and strip out of my scrubs.
The hot water does wonders for my sore ribs. Droplets land on my lips, causing me to lick them. The act reminds me of Johanna’s earlier intimate yet innocent gesture, which had my cock standing at attention, leading to my escape.
Erection in hand, I squeeze my girth, closing my eyes. It’s so wrong to be jerking off to the thought of my lifelong friend, but it feels so right.
I’m zipping the fly to my shorts when Johanna knocks on the trailer door.
“It’s open, Jo!” I shout, taking the towel and vigorously rubbing at my light brown hair. “I said I’d be right over.”
Dropping the towel on the bathroom floor, I pop my head out of the room’s doorway as soon as I hear the door to the trailer snick shut.
“Everything is set up, but you’re taking forever, and I’m starving.” Jo shrugs in her what-can-you-do way she does since always, that I find adorable.
“Right.” I stand there waiting for the truth only to find her eyes filled with a look of horror, her gaze stuck to my chest.
Before I know it, we’re standing face-to-face, and Johanna’s small hands are caressing the bruises on the right, below my pectoral.
“Oh, Rett.”
“I’ve had worse.” It comes out deeper, raspier than my usual tone, causing Johanna to halt her movement but she doesn’t back away. Instead, she freezes, and her head tilts back to look me in the eye and swallows hard.
“I-I know that.” She backs away and turns to head toward the door. “Put a shirt on and meet me in the backyard. I fired up the firepit too, and the pizza won’t be able to suffer through another reheat.”
Johanna
What the hell is wrong with me?
I scamper off as quickly as I can toward the gate at the side of the house, pull the latch, and let myself into the yard, not daring to look back to see if Rett is following or not.
For the second time tonight, my being so close to Rett has been intense. In all honesty, it feels like forever since I’ve developed these feelings for him, but I’ve never slipped up like this before. If I’m not careful, I know I’m liable to do something we might both regret and ruin our friendship.
Taking a seat on one of the Adirondack chairs, I grab the bottle of wine I’d uncorked earlier to let breathe and pour myself a generous amount of cabernet sauvignon into my goblet. Not wasting any time, I chug half of the glass down, then top it off.
“That bad of a deployment, huh?”
I jump in my seat as Rett is a little slow taking his—at what I no longer consider a safe distance—six feet is nearly not far enough right now with the thoughts that won’t stop circling in my brain.
With a shake of my head for an answer, I fake annoyance that some of my wine has sloshed over the rim of my glass. It’s leaked onto my thigh, barely missing the hem of my white shorts.
“Not nearly,” I mumble, as I rip a piece of paper towel off the roll I’d brought out with the pizza—now transferred back in its box to keep the flies and other assorted vermin at bay—and mop up my thigh and hands.
“Tell me about it?” Rett leans forward, pops the box open, and grabs himself a slice. Leaning back, he begins to chow down, his attention entirely on the food before him, but I know he’s waiting for me to tell him how things had gone.
It’s what we always do.
Thank you, Rett. With a simple kind gesture, he’s made me feel more like myself for the first time since he walked through our front door today.
Rett
“So I have to ask you for a favor,” I tell Johanna while she’s sipping, what, her second glass of wine. She’s definitely celebrating her new, albeit temporary, promotion as vice-president of Emergency Management.
“Name it.” Always so amenable, that’s my Jo.
“Since the doctor tells me I might have a concussion, I need you to look in on me every hour tonight. I feel bad asking because I know you’re exhausted, but it was my only way out of observ—”
She sets her wine down on the wide armrest of her chair and looks at me with that no-nonsense look of hers. “I got you.”
I smile her way. “Thanks.”
“That means you’re moving back in, though.” Despite not having any alcohol, I swear my imagination is playing tricks on me when a glimmer of excitement flitters through Johanna’s eyes, but I squash the same sentiment rolling through me down as quickly as it comes.
She already knows this, because I’ve told her as much, but I’ve missed her more than she’ll ever know.
A few hours later, Johanna and I are both tucked away in our bedrooms after she helped me put fresh sheets on my bed, citing I shouldn’t be moving around too much if I do turn out to have a concussion.
To be honest, I gave in without much protest because my head was pounding heavily, and I was also due to take more medicine. Once I was alone, I popped two more tablets before stripping down to my boxers and turning on the TV. A deep sleep finds me almost instantly.
By the time three in the morning rolls around, I’m feeling guiltier than I did when I initially made my request with Johanna.
“Stay,” I mumble to my quickly departing roommate, who pauses at my bedroom door.
“What?”
I should be exhausted, but the breathless way she says that singular word has me wide awake and a particular part of my anatomy is rising to an occasion that is nonexistent.
“You’re exhausted. Stay,” I repeat, shuffling sideways and away from the center of the bed, making room. “Set the alarm clock if you have to, to wake you up, but stay. I know you, Jo. The steps to get here and back to your room are waking you enough that you’re having trouble falling asleep only to wake up again.”
She laughs softly, and it sounds nervous. The wringing of her hands proves it too. “Did you put up cameras in my room while I was gone?”
I chuckle but shake my head as my answer. “Come on.” I pat the mattress beside me, giving her an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle. “You know you want to.”
She seems to think it over for a few seconds, but pads her naked feet toward my bed then proceeds to get in, turning to set the alarm clock on her side of the mattress, rolling over to face me when done.
“No funny business, mister,” she warns on a yawn.
I wink. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Jo-Babe.”