is a good designer, but sometimes she’s timid, letting her insecurities hold her back.
There wasn’t an insecurity to be found when she made this.
The neckline is deep, plunging where the dress wraps around her waist. Her tits are on display, but not enough to make her look desperate for attention. The dress is cinched at her waist with a simple sash, and it’s the perfect accessory, accentuating the curves she spends too much time hiding beneath loungewear.
Her long legs look even longer with the tall black boots she’s paired the dress with. Her lips are painted a dusty pink and her blonde hair is styled in loose curls that hang down her back, just begging to be pulled.
Sexy.
That’s exactly how she looks.
Dangerously so, too.
Caroline isn’t playing around.
She’s out to fuck…and I kind of want to be the first in line.
The only one in line.
No. No lines. This is Caroline. The same one who was there when you got grounded because your moms found out you stole a porno mag from the gas station.
“What? What’s wrong? Is it the dress?” Her timid voice interrupts my thoughts.
Her fingers are on the hem—because it’s that short—nervously playing with it.
I clear my throat. “It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure? You’re looking at me funny.”
Because I think I want to fuck you and I shouldn’t.
“Sorry. It’s not you.” Liar. “I’m just ready to get a drink in me.”
She nods, tucking her hair behind her ear.
I sigh and push up to my feet, hoping and praying she can’t see the excitement happening behind the zipper of my jeans. “You look fine.”
Fine? You fucking moron.
“Uh, thanks…I think.” She wrinkles her nose, then gives her head a shake. “No. Not thanks. Fine? I put a lot of work into this dress and you think it’s fine?”
“I didn’t mean that. I—”
“Should I change?”
Yes, because it makes me think shit I have no business thinking.
“Do you think it’s too much? Do I look desperate?”
“No. You’ll definitely turn heads.”
Too fucking many.
She grins. “Good. I mean, I am trying to get laid, so I thought dressing up a little was warranted.”
Right. That’s why we’re going out. For her to get laid.
Because Caroline and I are just friends.
That’s it.
End of.
No more inappropriate thoughts.
I need to get laid too. That’ll get it all out of my system.
No more bad thoughts about my best friend.
I give her the biggest, most charming smile I can conjure and saunter toward her.
“Let’s go get you laid.”
“This was a really bad idea.”
The worry in her voice is clear as her lips brush along my ear.
We’ve just stepped into Lorde’s, my boss’s favorite haunt, and she’s already itching to go home.
I can’t say I blame her. The place is more packed than usual, and that’s saying something because the lounge/karaoke bar is a popular place to be on any given Friday night.
“It’s way too crowded in here. If I even try to go to the bathroom, I’m going to get lost.”
I reach down and grab her hand, linking our fingers together like I’ve done so many times over the years.
I don’t miss how different her hand feels in mine tonight. How her thumb moves back and forth over that meaty part between my thumb and forefinger.
Have her hands always been so small and soft?
“I’ve got you,” I tell her. “Just don’t let go.”
She nods, but the worry is still flashing in her eyes as I lead her through the sea of drunks and find our usual table at the back.
About a year and a half ago, my boss realized he could save a hell of a lot of money on rent and sent us all packing out of the office and into our houses. It didn’t take long before someone complained about feeling too lonely not being surrounded by co-workers all day. Thus, our Friday nights out.
We meet at least twice a month, usually every other Friday, have a few drinks, and shoot the shit. It’s our way of staying connected without having to smell each other’s farts all day long. Not everyone comes each time, but there are usually at least ten of us.
“Hey! Bennett made it!” Paul, another developer on my team, holds his beer in the air. “Good to see you, man.”
It’s the same thing he says every time I see him.
“Hey, man,” I say, shaking his hand with my free one. “How you been?”
“Not bad. Not bad at all.” His eyes drift to Caroline, then down to our joined hands. “But not as good as you apparently.” He