“Need some help?” Frankie slid down the island at my side and pressed his cold bottle of beer to the back of my neck.
For the first time in hours my shoulders relaxed and the muscles in my back loosened. “I’m sweating like this pig right now.”
“I want to eat you just as badly, too.”
Natalia stopped folding cured meat into flower petals on the charcuterie board across from us to tilt her head curiously. A bashful blush crept up my neck. “I could use one of those beers, if you don’t mind.”
Frankie dragged the head of his bottle up my jaw and to my parted lips, tipping it back, feeding me a refreshing mix of hoppy liquid. Not the most hydrating option by a long shot, but replenishing enough to widen my heavy eyes. His focus zeroed in on my mouth, and as soon as the bottle came back down, he leaned in and replaced it with a kiss.
It was chaste and sweet, and as quickly as it was there it was gone, along with it Frankie, who nonchalantly moved to the refrigerator and returned with a fresh, unopened beer.
“I like you bossy,” he remarked, snapping the cap off with a bottle opener and placing it on the counter. “What’s next?”
“He just kissed your mouth.” Natalia pointed a spoon at Frankie. Fig jam slid off the tip and hit the white marble counter. “You’re kissing each other's mouths out in the open now.”
Her perception was sharper than a carving knife. I ran my tongue over the top half of my teeth and lodged it into my cheek. “Friends kiss.”
“Friends kiss,” Frankie agreed, his voice lower. “And…do other things.”
I shoved my elbow back into his lower stomach and he grunted. It wasn’t like what Frankie and I were doing was a secret, quite the opposite, but my focus was imperative in keeping Christmas dinner from becoming yet another thing I’d only think fondly of in childhood memories.
I ran down my mental checklist and busied my hands to avoid Frankie and Natalia’s friendly staredown. The lasagna in the oven, plating roasted peas and carrots, slicing the bread, stirring the sauce in the pot on the stove.
“So This Is Christmas” played from a speaker across the room, cutting into the loaded silence.
“You know what you can do, Frankie?” Nat requested, jutting her thumb toward her boyfriend in the living room. Mateo stood with his hands in his pockets and stared longingly into the golden ornaments hanging off the Christmas tree. He looked hilariously, uncharacteristically lost. “You can tranquilize Mateo. He’s been pacing the house for two hours. Something is bugging him.”
That morning when Frankie and I had finally emerged from his bedroom, Mateo was lapping the house with a feather duster, squaring off crooked picture frames and smell-testing each candle for his favorite one. I thought I’d missed a memo and we were expecting more company, but Frankie assured me Mateo just wanted to “set the mood” for the holiday.
Apparently the mood was neurotic, and the sound of the season was the sharp clicking of a remote control searching for the perfect playlist for over an hour.
“Will do.” Frankie sighed, tapping his fingers on the countertop. He snagged another beer and kicked the fridge door closed behind him before joining his friend across the hazy living room. Frankie’s arm sunk around Mateo’s shoulder as he whispered something indecipherable in his ear and they clinked their bottles together.
“If either of them had a pussy we’d be useless.” Nat snorted. “True loves.”
“Reminds me of us.”
Nat cut into a piece of provolone and popped it into her mouth. “Fun night?” she asked, her dark eyebrows wiggling perversely.
The oven beeped behind me and I turned away from her in a hurry, every memory of Frankie and I from the night before rushing back. The tenderness between my legs hadn’t dissipated at all throughout the day. I felt him every single time I sat down; it was fucking sadistic.
“You can say that.”
Nat rose from the barstool and pulled a placemat out of the cupboard, throwing it down on the formal dining table to make room for me to place the lasagna as I pulled it out of the oven.
Fuck, I was good. The edges of the pasta bubbled with ricotta and the house smelled like we’d just walked into an expensive Italian restaurant.
“That’s it?” Nat badgered me. “You’ve been edging each other for weeks and all I get is a ‘you can say that’？ I have blue balls over this, Phee. I’m losing sleep at night wondering if my best friend is getting the dick she deserves.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I laughed, just as the patio door across the house slammed closed and Frankie and Mateo disappeared into the backyard. “Okay fine.” I dropped my pitiful, demure mouse act and groaned out a dramatic breath. “It was fucking unreal.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened salaciously.
“Best I’ve ever had.”
“You’re lying.”
“May Santa come down this chimney right now and mollywop me.”
“God damn.” She clicked her tongue and spun around to the dishwasher, emptying four clean wine glasses. “We need a drink before you tell me more. Was it rough? I always pinned Frankie as a freak. He’s got so much pent-up shit that needs an outlet.”
My skin warmed, the ghost of his lips all over my body. “No, it was kind of…passionate?” I said. “Detailed. If that makes sense? I finished every single time.”
“You fucked multiple times?”
I shrugged, embarrassed again. “Like four times.”
Nat walked around the circular table, setting it with silver-lined dishes and cloth napkins as I put all the rest of the food out in the middle. “I’m horny again,” she groaned.
“This is the horniest Christmas vacation of my life. I need to be spayed after this,” I joked. “The men in Pine Ridge are never going to satisfy me again anyway.”
Nat stopped walking around the table and her playfulness sobered. Talking about Pine Ridge was like a puncture wound. Too many mentions of home and I’d bleed out. Colorado was calling and answering the phone was less and less appealing as the days dwindled.
“Tell me if you need me to pull you out of it.” Natalia insisted, the meaning behind her offer not lost on me. But admitting I might need her to bring me back to a reality where Frankie and I weren’t playing a game anymore was a weakness that I was too proud to show. Sure, I was deeper than I should have been with him, but I didn’t need someone to babysit those emotions. I could handle it. I needed to prove to myself that I could handle it.
“No it’s perfect,” I assured her, stepping back to admire the dinner table in all its delicious, aromatic glory. “It’s just what I needed, honestly. Frankie is a good man, he’s gentle with me, a staggeringly solid listener. I think we’re both really great for each other right now, a big part of that is knowing we’re on borrowed time. No holding back.”
“Okay.” She said, rubbing her palms together. “You know you best. But I’m still here.”
“I know, and I love you.” I held up a knife and a carving fork. “Now let’s eat this pig.”
Frankie brushed his fingers through my hair as I lay in his lap, rendering me motionless, soft touches coaxing me into a food coma. I could barely keep my eyes open, the house so warm from hours of the oven being on we might as well be in a cocoon.