“How was it? Is he amazing? Is he hung?”
Callie immediately begins asking the questions Greg feared as soon as I answer her call. I will never understand how she knew he and I had finally gotten down and dirty, but she claims she can hear it in my voice. Something about me sounding relaxed or whatever. Who knows. With Callie, sometimes it’s better to smile and nod.
Yes, Callie and I have been best friends for a couple of years now and we share more with each other than with anyone else. But I meant what I said to Greg—intimate details about his manhood isn’t her business. He didn’t share that with her. He shared it with me. That’s a trust I don’t plan on breaking.
“You are a total perv, ya know that?” I shoot back at her, watching as Fiona warms up with the rest of her gymnastics class. I’m sitting on the same bench that I always use, and once again, butt bruises don’t lie. But this time, it’s a wonderful feeling because I got these bruises the fun way.
Oh geez. Next thing you know, I’m going to want my own red room of pain. I’ve officially crossed the line to insanity.
“Come on, Elena,” Callie whines. “I’m living vicariously through you now. You know my sex life is practically non-existent.”
“Puh-leeze. You know you have no interest in being with Ben.”
“You got me there. Neither one of us has a libido these days. It works for us. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about your love life.”
“Not gonna happen, babe.” The door next to me opens and I know instinctually that Greg came out of the office. I catch his eye as I answer Callie. “What happens between him and me stays between him and me.”
He winks and mouths “Callie?”
I respond with a smile and a nod. He knows what we’re talking about.
“He’s standing right next to you, isn’t he?”
I pull the phone back to look at it. “How do you know that? Do you have a camera planted on me somewhere?”
“Your voice gets all deep and sultry when he shows up,” she claims. I’m not dismissing the idea that she’s tagged me yet, though. She’s a sneaky one. “Since you won’t give me all the details, ask him if he’ll take us to the beach so I can ogle him in a bathing suit.”
I snort a laugh and cover the microphone with my hand. “She wants to know if we can go to the beach so she can ogle you from afar.”
“Not afar,” she yells in my ear, as Greg pushes his stomach out, rubbing a less than sexy pot belly. “I wanna ogle up close.”
“Sorry, Callie. I’m not sure you want to see what I’m looking at up close and personal. It’s, um… not quite what you think.”
“He’s mooning you, isn’t he?”
“No, he’s not mooning me.” Greg laughs and walks away, heading over to greet his students.
“I don’t wanna see a hairy ass, dammit! I want abs. And if you won’t give me abs, I want details on your bump and grind.”
“No.”
Callie continues to whine in my ear about what a terrible friend I am for not giving her all the juicy details. I know she doesn’t really expect me to tell her anything private, but ribbing each other is what we do best. Sarcasm and poking fun are our love language to each other.
I’m not hearing most of what she’s saying anyway. I’m too busy watching my man work. He doesn’t even realize how sexy he is, just by being him. As I watch him, memories of our night together come flooding back. It’s crazy how he’s awoken my libido and there’s no shutting it down, whether he’s trying to excite me or not.
For instance, when he crosses his arms, observing a student perform, it makes his biceps flex the same way as when he was holding my thighs apart, proving he is, in fact, a master at oral.
When he bends his knees and sticks his butt out, demonstrating how to stick a landing, it reminds me of the movement he made when he was thrusting in and out of me.
And when he wipes his brow with the hem of his shirt, which I have no doubt he does on purpose so I can see his abs in all their glory, all I can think of is how beautiful he is when he’s naked and how much I love running my hands down his chest.
“Are you even listening to me?” Callie barks at me.
“No. Sorry. I was sidetracked.” By my memories. But I don’t say that.
“Uh huh. I know you’re at gymnastics,” she lectures. “And I know you’re thinking all the dirty, dirty thoughts about how quickly he can get naked if you were to yank those athletic shorts down.”
Busted.
“Seriously? Are you sure I’m not bugged? Fine. You caught me. But I really am trying to watch Fiona, too.” Wherever she is. “I probably should let you go.”
“What? No! You have to give me something! Let me live vicariously through you!”
I chuckle under my breath and I know I’m going to cave. But really, was there any question that I wouldn’t eventually? “Ok fine.”
“Yeah!” she squeals. “Was he amazing? Just tell me he’s amazing.”
“Yes, he’s amazing.”
“I knew it!” she shrieks. I'm pretty sure she’s jumping up and down if the vibration of her voice is any indication. “And he’s hung right? Tell me he’s hung.”
I knew we’d come back to this. But I’ve been thinking about how to answer this question for a couple days now, so I’m prepared.
“He’s perfect. The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
She sighs and that’s all I need to tell her. “I love that he’s perfect for you.”
He catches me watching him and winks. It makes my entire body feel warm and I realize… I’m falling in love with him.
Not lust-hazed, sex-fueled love. This is real, genuine, in it for the long-haul kind of love. Love that only desires to make him happy. The mature kind of love people who have been married for fifty years have.
And it doesn’t scare me at all. I’m under no disillusions that we both feel the same way or that he’s going to propose. But it certainly feels like what we’re building is deeper than a passing fancy. What we’re creating together could potentially last for the long haul. It feels right.
“I know, me, too,” I admit to Callie, but I’m not in the mood to talk anymore. I need to process through these feelings for a bit. “Hey, I need to let you go. I need to concentrate on Fiona.”
I’m lying, but it works.
We say our goodbyes, Callie still sighing like my life is her own personal chick flick. Me still in this new fog of emotion.
I finally spot Fiona working with Greg on the high bar. I guess Coach Zach is absent again. Shows you how much the blood hasn’t gone back to my brain yet.
Fi swings back and forth, her re-grip practically perfect. Her legs are straight, her toes are pointed, her abs are tight. She stumbles every once in a while, but for the most part, she has this nailed. And then, when I least expect it, she swings out, lifts her legs up, and pulls herself over the bar until she’s resting at the top, still in perfect form.
A pull over isn’t a hard skill. But when you do it from a swing, it takes timing and strength and coordination… all things Fiona’s been working hard on.
She’s beaming, Greg is praising her, and I’m feeling an immense sense of pride. Look how far we’ve both come with a little encouragement from this man.
It’s not because we were helpless. It’s not because we wouldn’t have figure it all out on our own eventually. But sometimes the people in our lives have more of an impact on us than we ever could have anticipated. That’s what Greg has done for us… impacted us in ways he doesn’t even realize.
It makes me smile. I’m not in love quite yet, but I’m getting there. And suddenly, all of our futures look incredibly bright.