Just Friends by Roxanne Riley
Chapter Three
Mason
Hauling myself out of bed is a fucking chore on Sunday morning. Lizzy hadn’t left until close to 2 AM. None of us had even realized how late it was getting, we’d just been talking and talking since she’d gotten there that afternoon, stopping only to order food and then, briefly, to eat it when it was delivered.
Having Lizzy back felt like there was a missing piece of us back, like things were right again. Reuniting with her felt a little bit like being eighteen again, taking me back to those first days when the three of us started hanging out.
But I’m definitely not feeling that youth this morning. The lack of sleep has an effect that reminds me that I’m nearly 30 and late nights aren’t what they used to be. But I also remind myself that it was absolutely worth it, and I’d do it again a thousand times.
I’d tumbled into bed in nothing but boxers, so I tug on some jeans and a shirt before plodding down the stairs in search of coffee and food. It’s quiet, and I’m sure Trent’s probably still sleeping.
I get a pot of coffee going and open the fridge, digging out eggs, tortillas, and some other fixings to make myself a breakfast burrito.
When the coffee’s brewed, I pour myself a cup and gulp down the scalding beverage while I finish making my breakfast, then once the burrito’s all ready and plated, I pour myself a second cup and sit down at the table.
The first cup is already perking me up, but putting food and a second dose of caffeine into my system definitely makes a difference, and by the time I’m finished, I’m starting to feel slightly more alive again.
“There still more of that?”
I look up, not having heard Trent approaching. Shirtless and rumpled, he looks about as dead as I’d felt this morning. He’s pointing at the mug in my hand, and I nod. He grabs a mug of his own from the cabinet and fills it eagerly, stirring a little sugar into it before plunking down at the table across from me.
“So last night was fun, huh?” I ask.
He takes a sip and nods. “Yeah, it was. I can’t believe she’s back, just like that. Almost feels too good to be true.”
I hadn’t missed the way he’d been staring at her all night. Not that I could blame him. She’s even more gorgeous than she used to be.
Lizzy didn’t know this, but Trent and I had actually had some fights about her back in college, until we’d finally come to an agreement that it wouldn’t be fair for either one of us to make a move on her. We didn’t want to mess up our friendship, after all.
But that was a long time ago, and the look on Trent’s face has me wondering if our little agreement still stands. “That ex of hers is an idiot,” I remark.
He nods, “His loss, our gain, though, right?”
“Right.”
He takes another swig of coffee, then stares down at the surface of the liquid in the mug. “I missed her more than I realized,” he says quietly.
I watch him for a moment, a dozen thoughts running through my head. “You still got a thing for her?” I force myself to ask.
He glances up, and after a moment’s hesitation, he nods. “Don’t think it ever stopped.”
I remember what it was like when Lizzy had moved away. Trent had kind of spiraled for a bit, drinking a lot and bringing home a different girl every night. It was like if the alcohol weren’t enough, he thought he could fuck the pain away.
Eventually, he’d gotten himself together, and over the last couple of years he’s made a few attempts at dating, but the relationships have all been short-lived.
Not that I’m in a much better boat; I’ve been single for months. I’ve dated on and off, but just haven’t met anyone that feels right.
But maybe my sense of what feels right is all screwed up, because there are two people in my life who do give me that feeling. Lizzy and Trent. And while neither of them knows, they’re each aware of my feelings for the other.
Or at least, they knew back then, but after all the years and all of us dating other people, maybe they think that’s a done deal. It sounds like Trent might be hoping that’s the case, at least.
He looks up at me seriously. “Would you hate me if I asked her out?” he asks, point-blank, “Because if it’s going to fuck things up, I won’t do it.”
I know he means it, that if I tell him right now that I’m not ok with it, he’ll drop it. But I can see just how badly he wants this. And if I’m too chickenshit to make a move on either one of them, who am I to try and keep them apart?
“I could never hate you, Trent, you’re my best friend,” I tell him honestly.
“But is it going to bother you? If I go out with her?”
I force a smile and snort. “You’re just assuming you’re gonna get the yes from her, huh?”
His cheeks redden and he smiles a little. “Not assuming, just being optimistic,” he corrects me, “But that’s not an answer to my question.”
I sigh. “Trent, we’re grown-ass men now, I don’t have any kind of right to police your dating life. We’re too old for silly ‘bro-code’ rules and shit.”
The answer is the truth, but also a bit of a cop-out, a way to dodge the clear yes or no he’s looking for. Is it going to bother me to see the only two people I’ve ever been in love with in a relationship with each other? I mean…
At least I know they’ll both be in good hands, right? Other than my own, I couldn’t put either one of them in better.
So I just keep a smile plastered on my face while Trent lights up and thanks me. I brush him off. “Don’t worry about it, I just want to see both of you happy.”
“It means the world to me to have your approval,” he replies sincerely.
I don’t think I can handle any more of this. I push back from the table and get to my feet. “I need a shower,” I mutter by way of excuse before heading upstairs, leaving him to bask in his happiness.
Once I’m in the bathroom and stripped, I don’t even wait for the spray to warm fully before I step under it, gritting my teeth against the bracing cold. It’s unpleasant, but the shock helps calm the raging storm of emotions swirling through me. A few deep breaths help the process along, too.
But as the shock wears off and the water starts to warm, the dour thoughts creep back in. I remember after Lizzy left and Trent was going through his “free love” period, hearing the noises of the girls from his room and being jealous. How the hell was I going to cope when I knew the girl making those sounds and wanted her, too?
To my irritation, however, the thought of him drawing sounds like those from her makes my dick swell and throb.
I imagine those thick, creamy thighs, parting and spreading for him like a flower in bloom, and him touching and tasting every sweet inch. My jaw clenches with jealous anger, but my dick throbs.
I hate myself for it a little bit, but I can’t resist. I palm my cock, pumping my fist over the hard, aching length. I imagine the sounds Lizzy might make, from soft, breathy whimpers to shrieks as Trent’s cock drives into her.
And while he wasn’t exactly noisy in the bedroom, our walls are thin, and I’ve heard some of the the groans and gasps he makes. The sounds join the soundtrack playing in my imagination.
Pleasure starts to build, and at least for now, the jealousy is forgotten, and I pump harder and faster, my mind conjuring images of Lizzy straddling Trent and riding his cock. She works those hips, driving him in and out, over and over, and I can just picture the expressions of pure bliss on her face with every move.
My dick pulses and throbs and I feel the familiar tension building, an ache deep in my balls just begging to be released.
“Fuck yes, baby, ride my dick,” I swear I can hear Trent’s words like he’s in the damn shower with me, “You feel so fucking good.”
“I’m gonna cum,” she gasps.
“Cum for me, Lizzy. Do it,” he urges, gripping her hips and thrusting up into her, making her shriek in pleasure, “I want to feel you cum all over my cock.”
The Lizzy in my fantasy moves faster, riding his dick with an almost desperate urgency, reaching frantically for release, until finally the climax rips through her and she lets out a howl.
Maybe I’m totally off, but I have a feeling that in that moment of pure abandon, Lizzy would get loud.
I picture Trent cumming inside her, filling her up with a hot load that spills down her thighs, and the thought is enough to tip me over the edge, spurting jets of my own cum down my fingers that wash away down the drain.
Trent knows about my bisexuality, but he’s never shown any kind of queer leanings of his own, in the almost ten years I’ve known him and lived with him. So rather than dealing with the awkwardness of that rejection and possibly losing my best friend, I’ve kept my mouth shut about my feelings for him.
Well, to him, at least, but back in my junior year of college, Lizzy and I had been hanging out while he was at a football game with some other buddies, and the two of us had indulged in a drinking game that led to both of us getting hammered. I’d drunkenly admitted to her that I was in love with Trent, and she’d blurted out that she was, too.
Unlike my agreement with Trent, my pact with Lizzy was never officially spoken, but we never brought any of it up again, and I noticed that some of her flirty behaviors around him cooled from that moment on.
But I’ve lived with Trent since we were freshmen in college, I’ve had more than ample time to try and make a move on him if I wanted to. Frankly, by now, the two of us could afford to get our own places, but neither of us have brought it up seriously. And if it means keeping him around, I won’t complain.
It wouldn’t be fair of me to hold Lizzy to some unspoken agreement from 6 years ago, even if the idea of them together feels like a punch in the chest.
Maybe this is the wakeup call I’ve needed for way too long. Time to finally move on…right?