The Fundamentals of Friendship Pt. 03

I can't apologize enough for how long I made you wait for this. Forgive me.

I'm a little anxious about posting this. It was so, so hard to write.

I was finally able to finish this chapter thanks to all the support I got from you readers. You're all amazing.

To make up for the wait, I made this chapter extra-long. Riley and Laura had a lot to talk about. Best friends usually do.

Forgive me any mistakes (I've been planning a trip so my editing time has been disturbed).

I hope you enjoy it.

(Sorry again!)

XOXO,

Nana.

***

LAURA

HE TATES so soft. I swirl my tongue around his salty tip. The skin there is delicate as satin, I have to stop myself from lingering at that same spot. It's like he's the one caressing me, not the other way around. All the sounds he makes, depending on how my mouth explores his length, are familiar to me. There's no surprise there. Even so, I'm anticipating every one of the inarticulate words I coax out of him.

I take him in deeper, burying my fingernails on his ass to bring him closer. The tip of him hits the back of my throat. I keep my watered eyes on his face. On the crease on his forehead, on his parted lips. He looks almost as if he's suffering. I moan, and work my tongue to fasten my hold on him, knowing this will make him pull my hair harder, his short nails scrape my scalp. His response triggers mine. I suck him for all I'm worth, too hungry, almost like I'm trying to have everything at once. I draw my head back, run my tongue over the slit. I love how he somehow loses control, thrusts his hips, and becomes almost savage.

Suddenly I'm the one moaning, so wet it's embarrassing, consumed by his pleasure which is my own. My neglected clit pulses to the sound of my name coming from his lips. It's a chant. Laura. Laura. Laura, he repeats. I have to take one hand from his hips to touch myself so I don't go crazy.

His hands on my hair guide me. He pushes himself in, drawing my head closer to his pelvis. He pulls out, still holding me close, and I just adore how he doesn't want to let me go completely. I sense the wild pulse of his heart on the veins of his cock pressed against my tongue. My fingers are hesitant on my clit because I'm waiting for him. I'll let go when he does.

Propelled by a desperate need, I'm touching myself to a speed that matches the pumping of his cock in my mouth. I'm afraid it's too fast and I'll lose it before he does. I don't want him to slow down, though. He glances down at me, momentarily dragging himself out of his haze, and I see it in his face, the reserve. He's worried he's being, somehow, too rough on me. I pour every ounce of my determination in the look I give him, commanding him not to stop.

I betray myself because I'm not strong enough to keep from coming before he does. I cling to him like he's essential to life. Every noise, every reaction I'm able to have in response to my orgasm happens while his cock is in my mouth. He feels the vibration of my moans and I feel him tense up, hissing, just on the edge of letting go himself.

The strong muscles of his backside contract under my fingers. A trickle of saliva runs down my chin and I...

***

I WOKE up with a thud. The sound of my body hitting the floor. The bedsheets were like a net, tangled around me. It took me a few seconds to grab my buzzing phone, the source of my arousal, from the nightstand.

"Hello," I mumbled, a little disoriented.

"Bella." The sound of Rocco's voice was like a bucket of icy water being dumped over my head. The haziness of sleep that was still clinging to me vanished instantly.

"Rocco! Hi!"

"Is everything alright, Bella?" He asked in his deep, accented voice.

"I'm fine," I lied. Fragments of the dream I was having played on my mind. I shook my head to get rid of the too-real images. "I overslept a little." That was an understatement. I should've gone to the Bistro hours ago.

"Are you at your house?"

"Yes."

"Can you come to the hotel? I need to speak with you. We can have lunch together."

I tensed up. "Speak to me about what?" After last night, talking to him wasn't something I was very eager to do.

"I simply wish to see you," he said. "Can you come?"

I looked down at myself, sitting on the floor by my bed. I'd fallen asleep on Riley's old Star Wars t-shirt. My hair was probably a disgrace. I didn't even want to think about the state of my face after the crying-myself-to-sleep night I had. "I'll be there in one hour."

"I'll wait for you."

I ended the call, heart hammering. All I wanted was to crawl back into bed and sleep until the day was over. I had only succeeded in falling asleep in the wee small hours of the morning, replaying, in loops, the conversation I had with my oldest friend last night. Then I dreamt, or rather remembered, the time when I had suck eighteen-year-old-Riley's cock, hidden in his mother's pantry, smelling cheese and herbs, while his Going-Away party was happening.

I tried getting to my feet and my knee joints crackled in complaint. I wasted time I should've used for sleep staring at the ceiling over my bed, deconstructing my relationship with Riley. I missed all the signs. I didn't see how he felt about me because I was a coward. If I dared be honest with myself, I probably refused to acknowledge that sentiment in him afraid of what it would unearth in me.

Now, it was too late. I had committed myself to a relationship with Rocco who had flown miles just to be with me. Riley had gotten himself tangled up with Suzanne again. There were people we needed to consider. It wasn't just about the two of us.

What did Ry think his confession would do? Take us back in time? Fix past mistakes? We couldn't magically go back to who we used to be. Pick things up where we had left them. My hands were tied now. Tied to Rocco, to the choices I had made in the past. I could own up to my mistakes, the part I played in making a mess of us, but that didn't mean I could change anything. The damage was done.

I wondered why Riley wanted the woman I was now. So bland. Uninteresting. Nothing like the girl I used to be. I was nothing like that young woman who loved him. Who had severed the connection we'd shared before it snapped on its own. Not anymore. I doubted, though, that I was any better or wiser than her. Because the very same idea that had terrified her years ago, terrified me now. How would I keep him in my life now? Would he even want to stay in it? Would he ever forgive me? And if he didn't, how would I learn to be without him?

I wouldn't be with him as he wanted me. Instead what would I do? Torture him with my presence? Ask him to be my friend? Hang around while I stayed with Rocco?

I had no idea what I should do. So I just made myself take a shower and get ready to meet Rocco. I'd face Riley sooner or later. I just hoped to God I'd know what to say when I finally did.

***

"DID YOU hear what I just said? Bella?"

I blinked several times, snapping out of my daydream. "Yes," I lied to Rocco, smiling falsely. "Of course I did."

Rocco had invited me to lunch at his hotel to let me know his meeting with Suzanne had resulted in the emergence of a problem. Something in France demanded his presence and he'd have to fly there this evening.

Rocco eyed me suspiciously. "You seem distressed today," he said. I could tell he attributed my strange behavior to the discussion we'd had the night before. And in a way, that was, partially, the reason. Albeit not the only one.

"Yes, sorry." I took a sip of water to clear my throat before I lied again. "I'm worried about Clementine all alone at the Bistro. I haven't stepped foot there today." He nodded the nod I had come to dislike, lowered his eyes to his plate and concentrated on slicing his steak. It was probable he knew I was lying to him.

I hadn't anticipated we'd eat at the excessively expensive restaurant of his hotel. I'd thought, for some reason, we'd eat in his room. Now I was feeling as comfortable as a fish in the sand, wearing too simple a dress for too fancy a place.

"When will you be back?" I asked. His travelling was ill timed. I didn't want to be alone right about now.

"I'm not certain. Two, maybe three weeks."

"So long!" My face fell, and his expression softened immediately.

"I'm sorry, Bella." He reached for my hand resting on the table. "I'd stay if I could, but this is something I must oversee myself."

I opened my mouth, but honestly, what could say? I already knew what kind of a life, what kind of responsibilities, he had. He was a child of two nations, he owned a company. I had no right to sulk now that the reality of the lives we led was hitting me in the face.

"I know, Rocco," I said, squeezing his hand. "I understand. I'm going to miss you, though."

He placed a soft kiss on the back of my hand and returned to his meal. I wasn't particularly hungry and a self-awareness, strong enough that I could distinguish every pair of eyes that deemed me inappropriate for that restaurant, ensnared me making the tasks of chewing and swallowing food hard to perform.

"Laura." My name on Rocco's lips made me alert and a little panicky. I glanced up from my plate of untouched food. I had been waiting for him to rebuke me, or even accuse me of something. I felt guilty in a way I couldn't explain. That damned dream. "I must talk to you," he said, voice even, "about last night." He paused. I waited anxiously for his next words. "I didn't behave accordingly. Forgive me, Bella. I hadn't meant to upset you."

I signed in relief. I didn't expect him to apologize for an argument that now, after Riley's confession, I couldn't say he was wrong to have started. "I'm sorry, too. I understand it's not fair to you. You didn't sign up to have your girlfriend impose her ex-boyfriend on you," I said.

Rocco smiled, though his wide mouth was set stone hard, like a roman sculpture. "I can't claim to understand your relationship with him, although I can make an effort to tolerate it."

Tolerate it. I held a breath. Something swirled in my stomach. Last night, Rocco had, not so subtly, insinuated my friendship with Riley might not be so platonic. I had then, with a conviction I didn't have anymore, told him Riley was just a friend. Something like a brother to me. Now I felt like the world's biggest fool.

"Rocco," I began, already on Riley-defense mode. "You don't know him like I do." As I said it, I realized Rocco, after half an hour around Riley, had known more than I did about Ry's true feelings towards me. "He's been in my life since I was a child. I owe him so much. Including my biggest dream. I wouldn't even be myself if I hadn't met him. You don't have to like him, just understand that I do and respect it. I promise I can keep my relationship with him from interfering with ours." I couldn't help feeling like another lie had just rolled off my tongue.

Rocco's eyes narrowed, suddenly cold. I tried to control every single muscle on my face so I wouldn't betray myself with any culpable expression that would catch his attention. "What's your biggest dream?"

It took me a second to understand what he was asking. "Uh?"

"You said you owe him your biggest dream. What's your biggest dream?" He repeated and I didn't particularly like his tone of voice.

The answer to that was easy. "Owning the Bistro was my biggest dream. Riley bought it for me," I said, matter-of-factly.

A tense line appeared on Rocco's forehead. Dangerous and hard. "He bought you the Bistro?"

"Yes," I decided to explain to him the whole story lest he misunderstood it. I told him how ever since I was a girl, having the Bistro was my biggest dream. I had always wanted to attend Culinary School and my parents always supported me. Every last dime they could spare they used to pay my way through it. But after I graduated I couldn't really find a job. I used to think I'd be a chef fresh out of school. That didn't happen. Instead, I spent my days working as a barista. No banker in his sane mind would give me a loan. I couldn't take any more money from my father and, in any case, he wouldn't have the kind of money I'd need to open the Bistro. But then Riley's book became a huge success. On my 26th birthday, he took me to the corner where the Bistro is today and told me he'd signed the papers that very morning and the place was mine. In my name. I tried to refuse; he wouldn't have it. I promised I'd pay him back; he didn't let me. When I finally saved enough money to pay him, he was offended I'd even suggested he take it. We had a huge fight that day. In the end he didn't take a cent of the money I'd spent years saving to repay him. Instead I used it to buy my house. "He made my dream come true" I told Rocco, "which costed him a small fortune, by the way, and he never ever asked for anything in return." I noticed my voice had acquired that affectionate, nostalgic tone it always did whenever I told that story. "I love my job, Rocco. I love that place. It's my whole life. And I owe it all to him." But that, the Bistro, wasn't all. I had a lifetime, over twenty years of little moments, memories, that depicted the importance Riley had had in constructing the person I was today. I was extremely thankful to him for that. The good and the bad.

Rocco was silent for a long time. "Laura-" He let out a heavy sigh. I waited. God, I hated when he called me by my actual name and not Bella. "I think," he went on, not making any comment or observation on the story I'd just told him, "you should come to France with me."

"What?! I think I should not." I actually chuckled, because he had to be kidding. His scowl convinced me he wasn't.

"Come to France with me, Laura, please" he repeated, voice full of command. "I'm asking you."

I stared at him in disbelief. "I just took a break a couple of months ago! I can't leave the Bistro again!"

"Your employees can take care of it."

"Rocco, I can't leave for three weeks without any previous planning. That's too irresponsible. There's things only I can do. Clementine is a good employee but the Bistro is mine. It needs me. You're a businessman. You understand this better than anyone," I argued. "I wish I could go with you, but I really can't."

"Your little bistro doesn't demand so much work."

My fork clatered against my plate. I couldn't believe how condescending he was. "My little Bistro, Rocco, is mine. Only I know how much work I need to put into it."

I wasn't sure he heard a word I said. His green eyes were fixed on my face although it was clear he wasn't seeing me. He shook his head, as if suddenly waking. "You do understand I can't stay here. My life isn't in this country. I came here to meet you. I am here solely for your sake."

I flinched. "And because you flew here just for me I have to drop my responsibilities and follow you across the ocean whenever you want me to? Is that what you're saying?" I held his gaze with all the defiance I could scrape together. "Here is where my life is," I told him, because I also wouldn't abandon my world to follow him into his. Just as he wouldn't abandon his for me.

We sat in silence. In a staring contest. I didn't know what I could or should say, so I said nothing. I just sat there with a pit in my stomach. The coldness in his eyes was enough to give me chills. A chime from his phone saved me. I released a heavy breath through my mouth I didn't even know I was keeping in.

He reverted his attention to lit screen of his cellphone. "I must go,' he announced, cold eyes returning to my face. "Miss Evans is here."

I almost choked on the air I breathed. "Miss Evans? "

***

WHEN we got to the lobby, Suzanne was there.

Her eyes landed on me. She showed almost no emotion at all, except I could sense the disdain coming from her like heat waves. She smiled. A hard smile that was surely costing her. A corner of her mouth twitched. She looked beautiful. Immaculate. Wearing a beige dress that clung to her every curve. He shoulder-length hair sweeping her shoulders. Her eyes were big, bright, and green like a field covered in morning dew. It wasn't hard to see what had charmed Riley.

"Mr. Foscari. Laura," she greeted us, impeccably polite.

"Suzanne," I mimicked her suave tone.

She lingered on me a few seconds, a perfect smile plastered on her face. I had enough time to notice how sad her eyes seemed before she focused her attention on Rocco. "Mr. Foscari, I'm afraid we must be going."

"Yes, of course. Just give me a moment."

I parted ways with Suzanne with a nod. Rocco walked me out of the hotel. The strangeness between us was tangible. I felt it tugging at me with every step I took towards the exit. "Are you sure you don't want to come?" He asked again in a lighter tone of voice that surprised me.

"No," I answered without any guilt this time. "I can't."

He nodded that nod again. I glanced up at him. He was frowning down at me, mouth set in a hard line. "We'll talk when I get back," he said it almost like he would an order. It angered me so much I grit my teeth.

I answered him with one of his nods. I didn't trust myself to use words. Rocco leaned in to kiss my forehead, then turned and walked back inside. I stood on the sidewalk, swallowing the lump in my throat and decided to walk the ten blocks to the Bistro. A walk would do me good.

***

I WAS working propelled by a sheer need to earn the money that would pay for my bills at the end of the month. Unfortunately for me, my croissants wouldn't magically bake themselves.

I was the epitome of a tossing and turning night. The bags under my eyes were heavy enough to drag my whole face down. I worked the dough for my croissants before me with minimal effort knowing it was useless. Giving my state of mind, I would probably burn them.

The Bitro's kitchen door opened with a squeak. "Boss?" Clementine's head poked inside. "Riley's here."

My stomach lurched. I stared at her, speechless. She cocked her head at my lack of answer, eyeing me with impatience. "Well? Should I tell him to come in here or you'd rather talk to him outside?"

I knew I would have to talk to him eventually. I just wished it wouldn't be now when I still didn't know what I'd say. "Tell him to come in."

She nodded, lingering at the door.

"What?" I enquired.

Her eyes travelled the length of my body, deprecatingly. "Don't you want to pinch your cheeks, at least? You look shit, Boss."

"Ah fuck you, girl. Just send him in."

"I could sue you for saying that, you know?" she retorted, earning a tired, but sincere smile from me.

I returned to the butter, fold, and roll process of making croissants to put on the pretense of calmness while waiting for the door to squeak again. When it did, I counted five whole seconds before I looked up.

Riley's first reaction was to give me one of my favorite smiles. One that only lifted one corner of his mouth, a little groove appearing beside it. "Hi, Ells."

I let out a breath. "Hey, Ry."

My heart was beating in my throat, sounding like a boom box to my ears. I caught myself wishing, like a teenager, that he couldn't hear it as loudly and as clearly as I could. It was the strangest sensation. To be so nervous around him. To not know what to say to him.

He was still at the door. He let it close behind him, taking a few tentative steps farther into my kitchen. He halted before he could get too close to me. Careful the way he would approach a particularly skittish wild animal. "How are you?" He asked. His dark eyes roamed over my face, going from my left eye to the right one, inspecting.

I almost gave him the automatic answer to that question. Except that saying I was fine would be a big, fat lie. "Didn't sleep very well."

He took a step closer. "Yeah, me neither."