I’m not exactly sure how it’s happened, but somehow over the last two weeks I’ve ended up at Tessa’s house more times than I care to think about. I keep telling myself today will be the last time, but even as I’m trying to talk myself out of it, I’m making my way to her apartment.

Tonight we’d eaten Chinese food out of takeout containers and now we’re watching The Walking Dead. She’s on the couch, with her feet up, her hands over her eyes as she watches a hoard of zombies surround the band of survivors through the slits of her fingers. She wails, “Oh no!”

I laugh. She has her own particular brand of delighted horror that amuses me greatly. I’ve seen the show before, but it’s almost more fun the second time. With Tessa.

Wide eyed, she shifts her attention to me. “Oh my god, who’s going to die now?”

She always asks me this and I always answer the same way. “I’m not going to tell you.”

She sticks out her tongue and returns to the television. “You’re mean.”

“Yeah, I am.” I squeeze her leg and then open my arms. “Come here, I’ll protect you.”

She doesn’t hesitate. Nope, she just plops right into my waiting arms and I curl around her soft body, while she buries her face into my neck. “I can’t look.”

She peeks anyway.

I have no idea when cute became so irresistible. I smile and kiss her temple. She’s just so…adorable. Somewhere along the way my soft spot for her has morphed into a kind of fevered lust and infatuation I don’t understand.

I keep telling myself to stay away. That I should go out clubbing with my friends, who are starting to question my absence. At bare minimum I should go on a date with my type of woman. The type that is a good time but easy to walk away from.

Not that Tessa has asked for anything, because she hasn’t. In fact, I find her lack of questions disconcerting.

Why doesn’t she ask? Is she wondering? I have no idea what’s going on in her head, but as much as I want to know, I don’t ask the question. I can’t open up a topic I don’t want to discuss. Even though it’s preoccupying my thoughts when I’m not with her.

While I tell myself I should get out and date, to break this—whatever this is—off before Tessa starts to want something I can’t give her, I find my way to Tessa’s instead. I can’t seem to help it. She’s so calming. Peaceful. And, so, so dirty. She never questions my arrival. Never sends me away. Never probes. Or drops hints about our non-relationship.

She does nothing I expect.

Instead, she smiles, lets me in, asks me how my day was, and what I want to eat. We sit on her couch, watch TV, talk or play cards until the adrenaline from my day wears off, and then we fool around. I have no idea how many orgasms I’ve given her. Or how many she’s given me. My mouth and fingers have touched every inch of her. She’s had my cock buried in her throat, driving me out of my mind. I’ve ground my shaft between her legs, her pussy hidden from me by thin cotton panties, until she’s shuddering under me, and I come on her stomach. I haven’t come that way since I was in high school, but Tessa makes it so hot I can’t stand it.

But we haven’t had sex.

And we never deviate from the couch.

I’ve secretly become obsessed with her bedroom, the only room in her small apartment I haven’t seen. A mystery behind a closed door.

An unspoken barrier neither of us seems inclined to cross.

I don’t know why.

Well, that’s not true. I do. I just don’t want to think about it too much. I’m addicted to her. Not the orgasms—well, maybe the orgasms—but also her. I can’t pull away. When I have free time, I want to be here, with her.

She makes me feel…good. Whole. Which is strange because I never felt particularly broken. Even with my dad dying and my mom taking off for parts unknown. If anyone ever asked me about it, if it ruined me in some way, I’d always say no. I’d just shrug and say that was life. My parents, and their abandonment, don’t define me.

Besides, I had my nana. She makes up for all the things I don’t have. She provided me with a stable home, a nurturing environment, and never makes mention of the fact that she didn’t want my father to marry my mother. And she certainly doesn’t make me pay for being my mother’s son. Who knows what I’d be without her, but I doubt I’d be a trauma surgeon resident at one of the best hospitals in Chicago if I’d grown up with a depressed, manic mother.

I’m lucky. Thankful. Her leaving me with Nana is probably the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

So I can’t really explain why Tessa, with her soft body and cute face, who’s not supposed to be remotely my type, makes something ease in me that I didn’t even know was tight. All I’m sure of right now is I’m not willing to give it up. Yet. I will, soon, but not tonight.

Tessa curls into me as the climax of the episode plays out before us in gruesome detail. She yelps, and then screams at the now black screen, “No!”

I chuckle and shake my head at her. “You make me laugh.”

She pulls back, looking up at me with her wide eyes. “We’ve got to watch another one.”

“Don’t you want to save it?” I run a hand up her leg. “Savor the anticipation.”

Her lashes flutter. “Um…no.”

“Are you sure?” I rub the seam of her pants. “You know what I’d love to see you in?”

She sucks in a breath. “What?”

“A short, flirty little skirt.” I press my fingers more firmly against her. “Maybe in plaid with a white T-shirt and matching white cotton panties.” I lean down and nuzzle her neck. “I have the most intense desire to lick you through the cotton until they are translucent and you’re moaning.”

She makes that needy little gasp that drives me crazy. “Xavier.”

I scrape my teeth over her earlobe and work my hand down her soft pants. “I’d like that very much.”

She arches into me, her neck curving in invitation. “Maybe someday you’ll get your wish.”

I’m not going to think about how all my current wishes include her. “Maybe I will.”

Then I stop thinking and sink into the warm haven of her body.

I’ll do the right thing. Not today, but soon.

* * *

“So what have you been up to?” Ashley asks as we are wandering through the women’s department at Bloomingdales.

I shrug, ducking my head to hide my secret smile. I don’t want to share what is going on with Xavier with anyone, not even my best friend. Because it’s mine, and part of me believes if I talk, he’ll disappear into thin air. Illogical, yes, but I’m not willing to jinx it. “Nothing much. Same old thing, really.”

Something about the tone of my voice seems to catch her attention, and she tilts her head at me, her long blonde hair swooping across her shoulder. Ashley is pretty, with a perfect body I’ve always envied. She’s smart, capable and successful with a great job, and fantastic clothes.

I’ve been best friends with her since our freshman year of high school, and have always been okay with the fact that I disappear into the background when she’s around. She’s a hard woman not to notice, and I have always been good with that.

But lately, I’m not sure if it’s Xavier exactly, or the way he makes me feel, but I’ve been getting looks. Ashley, who’s never had a problem getting a guy’s attention, has always claimed it was more about confidence than looks, and I’m starting to believe her.

The truth is, since that first night with Xavier, when that switch flipped on in me, I’ve been standing a bit taller.

Smiling more readily.

Paying attention in line at Starbucks, instead of burying my head in a book, and changes are happening. It wasn’t that I felt bad about myself before, because I didn’t, but it’s more that I felt doomed to contentment. Not like now, when I am ready for excitement.

It’s showing because I feel it, deep down in my bones, solid and sure.

Ashley narrows her eyes at me. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course, what could be going on?” I keep my tone innocent and light. Not wanting to alert her.

“I don’t know, you seem different.” Ashley shifts through a rack of dresses, little black numbers I’d have deemed un-wearable a month ago.

Today, a dress catches my eye. It’s fun and flirty, strapless and form fitting through the waist before flaring at the hips and ending mid-thigh. It’s not something I’d dreamed of even trying on, because I’d never wanted to call attention to my chest and wore loose things to hide my curves. But every time I’m naked under Xavier’s hands, he skims his palm down the slope of my waist and says in an awe-filled voice, “Your waist is so tiny. So pretty.”

It’s made me question why I’m hiding. For the first time I’m starting to wonder what it would be like to show off.

I touch the fabric. It’s clingy with a touch of spandex. I like it. I want to go somewhere I can wear it. I want to know what it would look like on me.

“Nope. Nothing. Just school, and parents, and kids.” I bite my lip and start shuffling through the hangers until I locate my size. I pluck it from the rack and announce, “I’m going to try this on.”

Ashley blinks at me before saying slowly, “You are?”

I nod. What’s the worst that can happen? It will look horrible on me. So what? But it might look awesome on me too, and I can’t help thinking about what my Aunt Bea always says, that luck happens to the prepared. I might not have any place to wear it, but if I buy it, maybe the opportunity will come to me. I straighten my shoulders. “Yeah, I am.”

Ashley’s expression creases with suspicion. “It’s not something you normally wear.”

I smile. “I wanted to try something different. It’s pretty, don’t you think?”

“I do, it will look great on you. I’ve always said you should stop hiding.”

I hold it up to me, pulling the seams, judging it will fit over my expansive chest. “I haven’t been hiding.”

But maybe I have been. I’ve always been attracted to risk and excitement, to grand adventure, but really, what have I ever done? Instead of going for it, I’ve been sitting back dreaming and wistful, deeming it for someone other than me. I see my mistake now.

And that’s the best thing Xavier has done for me. He’s given me a taste of life, and I have no intention of going back. Yes, my time with him, trapped in the bubble of my apartment, will end. But this feeling won’t. I’m going to capture it and hold it to me. Cultivate and grow it, until it becomes a part of me.

Ashley grins at me. “Is this about a man?”

I roll my eyes at her, shaking my head. “You know, Ash, not everything in life is about guys.”

“I know that!” Ashley picks up her own slinky dress that will look fantastic on her lean frame. “Believe me, I’ve learned. I just thought you might be wanting the dress for something, or someone special.”

“I do.” I hug the garment close, anticipation hot and thick in my chest. “Me.”

She laughs. “That’s the best reason of all.”

It is. I turn on my heel. “Come on, let’s go try them on.”

“I’m game.”

We head to the dressing room and five minutes later I’m staring at myself in the mirror. I’m in love. What a shame it would have been never to try this on. I twirl, and the skirt flares around my thighs before it settles.

I’m buying it. And a pair of shoes.

Because goddamn it, I’m wearing this, even if I have to go somewhere myself.

There’s a knock at the door and Ashley calls out, “Can I see?”

I open the dressing room, and step out. Ashley is standing there, looking like a million dollars in her slip of a dress, but instead of the normal spike of envy at her genetic fortune, I laugh and spin again. “Do you like?”

She puts her hands on her hips. “You’re getting it.”

“I am.”

“You look fantastic.”

I grin, and tuck a lock of my curly hair behind my ear. “We need shoes. High ones that go on for miles.”

“Do we ever.”

We go back into our rooms and I take one more look before I strip out of it. Now all I need is a place to wear it. But wear it I will, the sooner the better.

It’s time to create my own adventure.