Just You

I set Portia’s coffee down on her desk. It was the fourth day I’d made her coffee. She looked up at me, giving me one of those tight-lipped smiles of hers that implied she still knew I was way beneath her on the social ladder but she was thinking about letting me climb up the rungs a little. I went back to the kitchen for Becky’s and Crystal’s coffee.

I had started making them all drinks, so it didn’t stand out that I made Portia one. They thought it was my New Year’s resolution; to suck up and make them coffee. ‘Course they hadn’t actually picked up on the fact that I always gave Portia hers first. ‘Cause she was the hottest girl and the one I was chasing. Mildly. It was no big deal if our texting and coffee-making went nowhere at all––but equally, if it went somewhere… I’d welcome another New Year’s Eve pool moment with her.

And she did keep texting me, only about stupid stuff, but she wasn’t cutting me.

“Hey, did you see this?” I caught sight of Becky dropping a magazine on Portia’s desk, folded back, to show Portia something on a particular page.

When I came back with Becky and Crystal’s coffees, all of them were clustered around Portia’s desk, jawing in catty voices about some celebrity gossip in the magazine, cutting some poor famous woman down to shreds for having put on a few pounds, laughing at the before and after picks.

I don’t know. I mean, I liked Portia, physically. She was seriously attractive. But her bit-of-a-British accent and her tipped-up-chin-and-nose, saying I’m-better-than-you-back-off, gave her a hard edge that was sharp. Maybe there was something there or maybe there wasn’t. She was brittle really. She had a personality that was like stone. If she was really interested in me? Would I be interested in that?

She glanced up before I could turn away and caught me staring at her. There was a really tiny twitch at the edge of her lips. Then she looked back down.

Shit, that little twitch in her lips had a little twitch shifting in my dick. It ran up my nerves and lust gripped like a sudden punch that knocked the air out of me.

I guess I could overlook her similarity to stone. Maybe it would be fun to go up against such a hard edge in a bed anyway.

Portia

I caught Justin’s eyes widening, and his lips tipped sideways just before he turned away. The smile that had involuntarily lifted the edge of my lips spread.

There was something going on.

I was sure he was making a play for me.

Every day he made me coffee, but he made it for Becky and Crystal too. Yet he always brought my cup over first, put it down, and then went back for theirs. He was up to something.

Becky said something and Crystal laughed. I laughed a little too, though I hadn’t heard what she’d said; my eyes and my attention were on Justin, watching him as he walked around to his desk.

I loved the way he moved. I mean, he had this relaxed way of walking but as he walked, you could see the strength of his character coming through. It was the way he carried himself. Justin was confident––comfortable in his own skin. He wasn’t afraid of being judged. He didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of him. If someone didn’t like him; I think he would just shrug it off. He wasn’t interested in impressing anyone. He was just who he was. No complications.

The main editor walked over to talk to him. It gave me more time to watch as he stayed standing.

While he talked with Keith, Justin’s hand came up and gripped the back of his neck. Something trembled low in my belly as I remembered those long fingers touching me.

I still liked the shape of his head, the curve of his jaw. I don’t know. Justin was just perfectly proportioned; it was like he’d been airbrushed in real life.

Keith said something and Justin nodded, his hand falling. Then Justin turned as Keith walked away. Justin’s gaze didn’t lift, he didn’t catch me watching. He was looking at his screen as he sat down, his lips parting to let out a short sigh as he sat.

That meant he was working on something complicated. I’d started really noticing the sound of his little sighs that drifted across the desk. It meant he was thinking, working something out in his head.

The thought of his broad lips parting to let out a sigh had my blood heating and sensation tingling in between my legs. Someone must have turned up the heater in the air-con, I wanted to strip.

“Hey. What do you think?” Becky hit my shoulder with the back of her hand.

I didn’t know what she was asking; I hadn’t been listening to them.

“Girls!”

Keith saved me anyway. He’d seen we were just talking. Becky and Crystal immediately turned away.

I sat back down; my mind spinning with unvoiced questions I wouldn’t admit to as my mind fixated on Justin’s lips and his hands.

I don’t remember fixating on anything about Daniel, my ex. Daniel had always just been Daniel. We’d known each other for years before we got together. Our parents were friends. They’d pushed us together.

At the time, I’d thought I wanted that.

I looked up, but I couldn’t see Justin around my screen. I thought about the way he moved; his confidence, his simplicity. No secrets. No games. No disguises and false fronts.

God how refreshing was that.

Daniel had been too like my dad in personality. But then I hadn’t known what Dad was really like at the time I’d started with Daniel. I’d been blind still. Seriously, it was as if I had never opened my eyes until the night everything had gone wrong.

How had I not known Dad was cheating; and how had I not seen how self-centered and pathetic Daniel was? I wasn’t even sure he’d loved me at all. He’d loved himself, and he wanted to look good, and have the sort of influence my dad had. I was just part of that package. The girl who would look right on his arm. The girl whose inheritance would help fund the political career he was aiming for. The girl who knew how to act in that world… Except, I wasn’t going to play any part in it. I hadn’t even known everyone else was acting until my eyes had been ripped open.

I’d had to wake up and grow up quick. I’d cut my ties with my parents’ wealth and their world and just walked away.

Dad hadn’t cut me off. My trust fund money was still sitting in an account. Untouched. It felt like blood money. I didn’t want it. I was making my own mark on the world. Doing what I wanted, not what they wanted. As far as I was concerned, I had no obligation to them. They’d lied to me, pretended they were something they were not. Just like Daniel.

Not like Justin.

There was another whisper of a sigh from the other side of the block of desks. I saw Justin’s arm lift and his palm settled on top of his head as he stared at the screen, clearly trying to work out in his head how he was going to do something.

Justin was different from any guy in my world back home. The world that now seemed like a nightmare I’d dreamed up.

I’d arrived in New York alone; determined to do stuff my own way. I’d armored myself with the sort of confidence Justin had naturally. It had not come naturally to me. But I think I’d managed to convince everyone that I could do this––that I could make it by myself.

Yet beneath the person who’d conned everyone into believing I was thick-skinned, not-knockable and independent––was still that girl who had arrived in New York, alone and terrified of how she’d cope.

Justin was just Justin…

I was starting to really like him.

I looked down at my cell, my fingers itching.

I picked it up.

‘Stop sighing, you’re distracting me.’

I saw his hand fall from his head. Then there was a little amused grunt.

‘:-) I’m concentrating.’

‘Well concentrate quietly :D’

‘Ha. Ha.’

I had on the sort of smiley face I’d texted as I looked back at my own screen, and tried to get my brain to focus on work again, not on the guy across our block of desks.

Portia

I sat on the bed looking at Justin’s number on my cell for about the twentieth time. I was so bored––and lonely. I was fed up of my own company Crystal and Becky weren’t free and… and it was my birthday. Mum and Dad hadn’t rung but then they were in Europe.

They were in Europe every winter, and always too busy to remember the day they’d had me. But why did I care?

Because a part of me was still the child they had rejected for half my life, and then scarred irreparably when I’d discovered why.

My thumb hovered over the call icon again. Should I call him? What would I say if I did? I’d sent him a text first, after we’d swapped numbers, a picture of a stupid looking dressed up dog in the park that I’d seen as I walked home, just to break the ice. We’d sent a few texts since, all just conversational. It was a huge leap from that to calling and saying do you want to come over. But I needed some company.

I slid the call screen off my cell and selected messages, then typed: ‘I’m bored.’

I sat waiting for five minutes, holding my cell in my palm, staring at the thing. It vibrated.

‘Are you :-)’

Shit, what did I say? ‘I want someone to talk to, and no one’s free.’

‘Are you hoping I’ll be that person?’

I breathed out, not even realizing I’d been holding my breath. Anyone would do today. I just wanted some company. ‘Maybe? I want someone to come over.’

‘Portia. Are you asking me over or what?’

My stupid stomach did a somersault. Did I care that much if he came? No. It wasn’t him. I just needed someone to spend my birthday with. ‘If you want to come’… I didn’t finish the sentence, I just sent it.

The reply came back immediately. ‘If you’re asking me’…

I didn’t reply; my courage failed.

A moment later there was another text. ‘Are you? Or aren’t you?’

I took a breath. My fingers were actually shaking as I answered. ‘I am. Will you? I’m lonely.’

‘Ha.Ha. That, I do not believe.’

My hand was still shaking and I didn’t know what to say.

At work they all thought I was a stuck-up bitch. I knew I sounded like that. I could hear myself… But… they didn’t know me.

My thumb lifted and hovered over the letters. I wanted to type, please come. But that sounded too needy. Sad and needy was the bit of me I hid from people. ‘Are you coming over or not? I’m not asking again. Do you want to watch films here?’

‘I’ll come. Yes to films. I remember where you live. I’ll be there in about an hour :D’

‘Okay.’ God, I couldn’t believe how much lighter the pressure on my shoulders was, or how much my heart lifted, when it had no business giving a shit whether Justin came over or not. But I was twenty-two today. I deserved some company.

He arrived almost an hour dead from our last text, and even though I was expecting him, when the buzzer rang, telling me he was down at the front door. I jumped and then my stomach quivered with anxiety. God, this was madness. But it was Justin’s company or no-one’s, and no-one’s was a far worse choice.

I had no idea where he’d come from––where he lived.

My fingers were stupidly shaking as I pressed the intercom. “Hi.”

“It’s Justin.”

I pressed the button to free the door. “Come on up, I’m in the attic apartment.”

Shit I didn’t even know if he knew that. Maybe he knew that? Maybe I’d let him up here New Year’s Eve.

My heart was going mad, I was so nervous––it pumped away with the pace of one of those crazy house music baselines like it was going to leap right out of my chest any moment.

I twisted the lock and went out. I’d rather be in control of this––this time.

On the landing, that was decorated in a modern eclectic style of peeling paint and mold, I leaned over the banister, looking down. “Justin!” He was on about the third flight of stairs. He stopped and looked up.

“Portia! What’s up?”

I smiled. God, it felt so good to have someone here, I was such a sad case. My fingers gripped the wooden rail as he looked away and started jogging up the stairs again. I’d worked with him for a year, I’d never considered him anything other than a work colleague before a few days ago, but now my eyes seemed to be seeing something else.

He didn’t look any different though. His hair was cut dead short so he could hardly style it a new way, and he always had such a relaxed manner at work, he wasn’t going to be suddenly more laid back. Justin was Justin. But I liked what I saw. I mean, he didn’t have the obvious looks his friend Jason had had but he wasn’t at all bad looking and as he rounded the corner of the flight of stairs that would bring him up to my landing, his brown gaze caught mine. The guy had really nice eyes, like light shining through a glass of cola. He was kind of close to a young Will Smith when he smiled and definitely Jason Derulo standards when he didn’t.

I straightened up, smiling too. “Hey.”

“Hey. So this is your space then?”

He hadn’t been up here. That was good to know. “Yep. Come in.” He was carrying some shopping. I turned and went back inside. He held the carrier out when he came in.

Justin

“This is for you.” I held out the stuff I’d got in a store along the street, offering it to Portia. Arriving empty handed would have been lame. “There’s M&Ms, vodka, cola and popcorn. All we need for a few hours of Netflix.”

She looked uncertain but she took the carrier from my hand and checked inside it.

She was different outside the office. Her hair was down, and she was only wearing a sleeveless tee and a pair of skinny jeans that clung like a second skin. She looked like a different girl, a girl who might actually play a game of tonsil hockey in a pool with a guy about thirty steps below her on the social scale.

I knew she came from money but shit, you wouldn’t know it from the place she lived in.

She unpacked the stuff from the carrier and put it onto the tiny square of space she had beside a two plate burner.

I glanced about her room.

It was just a room, with a single bed, a few cupboards, the burner and a basin all-in. I’d researched her family in a bored moment when she started at the magazine and I knew her parents were loaded.

I didn’t say anything as she tossed the packet of M&Ms and toffee popcorn on her bed. Then she looked up at me with those blue eyes that always seemed to judge people. “Thanks for coming over.”

“You’re welcome.”

She made a face at me, a cute face, her nose wrinkling, I’d never seen her wrinkle her nose, or look cute, ever. Sexy? Always…

“Shall I put a film on now then?”

“If you want, unless you want to change plans and go out somewhere?”

“No, I’m happy to watch films, if you are? It’s my favorite thing, getting lost in films.”

When I’d got her text asking me over here, I’d been at the table with Mom and the others. We’d just finished lunch. Mom had seen my face. I think my expression had probably said: What the fuck?

“I’m bored.” What the hell had that meant? My mind had run through the fuck-buddy idea in my head. I mean, I’m young and I’m a guy. And after the party, there was reason to hope keeping her company might come with benefits.

Mom had fired questions at me as I’d left the apartment. But I was twenty-two. I didn’t want to be entirely tied to her. There had to be some get-out time in my life.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Portia asked, throwing a look over her shoulder at the bed as she turned away from me.

It was kind of intimate sitting on her bed. Maybe this seriously was a fuck-buddy thing, not just my wishful thinking.

I perched on the edge, my hands clasping together as my elbows rested on my parted thighs and I tried to keep a firm hold on my imagination––and my libido.

“You can take your coat off. You’re staying aren’t you?”

She was laughing at me internally; it was in the movement at the corner of her pretty pouting lips and it caught in the blue in her eyes and made it brighter. I smiled at her, giving her a look that told her not to tease me but I stood again to take off my jacket and hung it from a hook on the back of her door.

It must be weird, just having a bedroom to live in. It was about the same size as mine although I did share my room with Robin. But at least I had a living room to walk into and a couch to sit on. She just had a bed and on the other side of the room, a cupboard, counter and basin.

She poured the vodka into glasses and then added the cola and held one out for me to take before I sat down again. “Do you think it’s too early for this?”

For a minute, I thought she meant me being ‘round here when we’d only just started something, but then I realized she was referring to the drink… And besides, we hadn’t really started anything. As I’d told her before––we’d just messed around in a pool at a party.

“At two? No way.”

She put her drink on a chest beside the bed and picked up the laptop. I watched her face as she opened it.

She glanced at me. “What do you want to watch?”

Her eyes were definitely more blue than gray today. Maybe cause she had a blue sleeveless tee on. I shrugged. “You can have what you want. I’ll even suffer the Notebook or the Break up; your call.”

She smiled.

Beauty literally shone out of the girl when she smiled like that. I don’t think I’d ever seen her smile that openly at work. She always looked sly when she smiled at work, like she was being coy when she was anything but.

“You’re saved, I hate romantic stuff. What about a Final Destination marathon, we’ll start at number one.”

I grinned at her. “You’re on.”

This was weird. I was sitting in Portia’s room, by her invitation, talking about watching horror movies. Had I slipped into a parallel universe? She wasn’t only thirty steps above me on the society ladder. She was about the same in looks––a whole mile out of my league. I’d pitch myself at eight, maybe scraping nine, but she was a full on ten.

She went back to concentrating on setting the film up. My gaze dropped to her chest, the tee she was wearing clung, tucking beneath her breasts. I remembered the feel of her breasts in my fingers. They’d looked pretty awesome in a bikini, the perfect fit for the heel of my palm to press them up, so my thumb could rub her nipple.

Beneath her tee, I could tell she wore a thin cotton bra. The shape of her nipples pushed through the layers of her clothing.

I shifted a little, moving out of her way so she could sit down, trying to distract my brain from the threat of a hard on. It definitely seemed, so far, that the undertone of ‘I’m bored’ had not been a bootie call.

She put the laptop up on the side as the film started playing and sat down on the bed, slipped her shoes off and curled her legs up as she slid to the back of the bed, then leaned against the wall. Her body was illuminated by a beam of sunlight that suddenly pierced the cloudy day and shone down through the skylight above us.

The sunlight disappeared.

She reached forward for her glass.

I watched the opening scenes, feeling awkward again, like I didn’t know where to put myself with her so close.

I didn’t get why she was here though, I don’t mean why she’d asked me, but why the rundown room? Her parents were rich.

I sipped my drink as she sipped hers.

“Err! This is so violent!” her nose screwed up. It had a perfect tilt to its tip. How could the girl look so sexy with her nose screwed up? She did.

“You picked it.” My tone came out flat as I fought an urge to kiss her. It had been her who’d kissed me in the pool.

Her gaze spun to me, and a smile broke those perfect pink lips. She hadn’t any make up on today.

“I don’t dislike the violence and gore, it’s just like OMG when it happens.”

I smiled and shook my head at her, then threw the M&Ms over. “Open them.”

Still smiling she did and took a handful for herself then passed them back to me. “You can take your boots off and sit on the bed properly with me…”

Shit, something lurched in my gut and gripped at my cock.

I leaned forward and unlaced my boots, then moved back on the bed with my knees bent up and my thighs parted while I rested my head against the wall. My forearm leaned on my bent knee as I still gripped my glass.

We watched the movie in silence eating M&Ms.

When actor number four met a vicious end, her cell started vibrating on the side by the laptop, ringing out Counting Stars. She picked it up and looked at the screen but didn’t answer, her whole body hesitating as she took a breath. Then her thumb touched it to take the call.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes.”

“I’m fine.”

“Working.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Say, hi, to Mum.”

“Yes.”

“Goodbye.”

Her pitch had changed when she was on the cell. It got more arrogant, and British. Her dad was British. I knew that too.

She colored up a bit as she leaned over and put her cell back on the side, saying nothing.

God, I had to ask. “Portia, your parents are rich, right? Why the hell are you working at the magazine and living here?” My free arm thrust out to highlight the inadequacy of the shithole she was in.

She turned an even brighter red when she looked at me. Sirens blared on the film to mark another victim’s death. Taken down.

“The money’s my parents, not mine.”

Well, yeah, but I’d have thought they’d have sorted her out somehow so she lived a little better than this. If I had money, I’d want to help my family. Our gazes held for a moment, but then she looked back at the film and her lip caught in her teeth for a second.

“You, okay?”

She nodded but she wasn’t.

“What did he say?”

She turned back and smiled at me. “Happy Birthday.”

I was moving forward without thinking, and I gripped her arm. “It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you say? I’d have got you something. No wonder you were bored alone. We should do something. Go out…”

“I want to watch films.” That pretty pout was back.

“I could have bought you cake.”

“You didn’t have to buy cake and you did get me something, you bought M&Ms, popcorn and vodka.”

I ignored that. She was just changing the subject. “Are you seeing them?”

“No, they’re in Switzerland.”

“Really? Were they here for New Year?”

“No.”

“You didn’t see them the whole of the holidays?”

“Nope, nor Thanksgiving. I see them in the summer when they come over to LA.”

“In the summer?”

She looked at me with a flat gaze that said, so. It wasn’t abnormal for her.

If this was a rich kid’s life, I was glad all those wishes I’d made on birthday candles as a boy hadn’t come true. “What about when you were a girl?”

“I was in boarding school, I stayed there.”

Her expression said she didn’t care. But she’d grown up on her own. A frown crushed my brow––I’d got her wrong in the office. But now she did look like the girl I’d worked with for a year. Her lips had pouted and her chin was up, in that aggressive bitch like expression I knew well.

“How much did you see them?” My hand ran over my hair, back and forth, as I said it. I was still knee deep in shock.