Diving In Read online

  “I just … I can separate it out, I guess,” I reply. “I can take how I feel about you and put it someplace else, someplace away from the girls I want to fuck or the girls I work with.”

  “I can’t,” she whispers so quietly I can barely hear it.

  “I know,” I say, pulling her into my chest and holding her close. “I was worried about this. You’re a romance kind of girl and you can’t randomly fuck around with somebody without feeling something deeper.”

  “That’s probably true,” she says with a resigned sigh.

  “I shouldn’t have even started it, really, because I was worried this would happen and I’d end up hurting your feelings. I just started thinking about it and I wanted it so bad. I’ve never done anything like that with you and I got so obsessed with the idea that I didn’t think about the consequences. I just … I’m really sorry,” I say, kissing the top of her head.

  She takes a deep breath and I feel her relax a bit. “This is your fault,” she says with a little smile. “You’re so good that it made me lose my mind. It’s like Ghostbusters. You crossed the streams and now I’m all fucked up and confused.”

  “Hey,” I chuckle, “I’m confused too. I’ve known you since you were six years old and you were just naked on top of me. You’re not supposed to get a hard-on thinking of your best friend, but you turn me on all the time and I could have blown a load in my fuckin’ boxers when I watched you come this morning.”

  She giggles and shakes her head.

  “This shit confuses the shit out of me because I shouldn’t want it as bad as I do—and I really fuckin’ do. I should not get this horny for my best friend, but you do that to me and I have no idea why, how or what to do about it, so I just let it slide,” I elaborate.

  “So, it’s not just me who felt it?” she shyly smiles.

  “Hell no!” I laugh. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I wanted to do all kinds of nasty shit with you. You don’t think it fucks my head up to want to bang my best friend? I’ve practically, like, sworn an oath not to let anybody fuck you who doesn’t deserve you and then what the fuck happens when I’m the one who’s trying to fuck you? I’ve, like, violated everything I stood for, for fuck’s sake!”

  She laughs and wraps her arms around my hips, resting her cheek on my chest. “We really shook shit up, didn’t we?” she giggles.

  “Yes, yes we did,” I nod.

  “So this should be the beginning and end of all this,” she says. “Probably need to put the breaks on any further sex stuff or else we’ll be royally fucked up for years to come.”

  “I totally don’t want to do that—because you’re sexy as fuck and I love getting to do sexual shit with you—but you’re right,” I smile at her as I hold her face in my hands.

  “Ok,” she sighs. “Best friends, from now on, then?”

  “Word,” I grin, holding out my pinky for her to pinky swear me.

  She hooks her finger in mine and gives me a nod.

  “Now let’s eat some fuckin’ breakfast. I’m super hungry.”

  “Me too,” she says, going with it when I take her hand and lead her back to the kitchen.

  Chapter 5 - Lola

  James and I are standing just outside the security screening area at LAX. My bag is checked, my boarding pass is printed and all my liquids over 3 oz. have been packed away with my toiletries bag. I’m departing in just under a half hour for the long trip back to my dorm all the way on the other side of the country. My heart hurts already from how far I’ll be from James.

  “I hate this,” I say, trying my very hardest not to cry.

  I know it would be stupid to cry. I’ll probably see him again in the next three months or less, so I shouldn’t be sniveling about leaving. Still, parting ways with him this time will be a lot harder because of what we did. I feel closer to him now, almost attached to him, and it’s like ripping off a bandaid to head back to reality like this.

  “I’m gonna miss you like crazy,” he smiles.

  “Oh, dude, you have no idea how much I’m gonna miss you!” I grin. “You’re here with sun and palm trees. I’m going to the east coast. In winter. To go write thesis papers and take exams and shit.”

  He laughs and tucks my hair behind my ear. “You ever thought about going to school out here? UCLA can be very nice, I hear.”

  “After this trip, I might consider it,” I say, only half joking. I’d love to be closer to him, but I got into a great school and I’m sure a bunch of my credits wouldn’t transfer, so everything would be complicated.

  “Alright,” he smiles, “well, needless to say, I love you and I’m crazy about you and I’m gonna think about you constantly and count down the days until I can cuddle you in my bed again.”

  “That better be soon, either at your place or out at my school. I’d love to see how my roommate, Rachael, reacts when there’s a big, burly hunk sleeping in my little-ass dorm bed with me wrapped up around him like a fucking Burmese python.”

  He grins and gives me a wink. “I’ll show you a python,” he jokes.

  I laugh loudly and give him a playful smack on the shoulder.

  I should go. The security line is long and those people can fuck up your whole day if they decide you’re worthy of a random screening. I hike my computer back up on my shoulder and gaze longingly into James’ eyes.

  “Wait,” he says softly, “before you go, I have to do something.”

  “Ok.”

  “Close your eyes,” he smiles.

  “Why?”

  “Do you trust me, Lola?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then close your fuckin’ eyes,” he chuckles.

  I do as he says, trying to attune my other senses to what he’s trying to do. I smell his shampoo mixed with his trademark virile, masculine scent—a combo that makes me inwardly swoon. Just so male. And so hot.

  I keep my eyes closed when I feel is lips brush against mine in the most tender, sweet, soft little peck I’ve ever experienced.

  My eyes slowly open and he’s staring down at me with this reverential, appreciative, loving gaze that makes my heart swell.

  “I just wanted to do that before we stopped the sex stuff for good,” he says.

  My God! How I’d like to throw my arms around him and lock him in a kiss like something out of a movie. He’s stunningly beautiful, standing in front of me in jeans and an olive green t-shirt that does wonders for his tan skin and clings to his spectacular pecs. His long hair falls in perfect waves at his shoulders, he’s got a little bit of stubble that brings out the delicious shape of his pouty lips and his hazel eyes practically sparkle as he looks at me.

  He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not my boyfriend. It’s probably good that I’m leaving because I’d never be able to focus on that mantra with him standing in front of me. I’ve got functioning eyes and no amount of mental willpower could overtake what I see: a gorgeous, breathtaking, stunningly beautiful man who just gave me a little kiss. A man who’s just as confused as I am about what our little escapade meant. A man who cares about me, who wants to protect me, who cooks for me and makes me laugh and has all the makings of a perfect boyfriend. But also a man who’s not my boyfriend and could never really be my boyfriend—or anyone’s boyfriend, for that matter. James has everything a girl could ever want, except that monogamy gene that tells him to keep his dick out of slutty porn stars. A sad fact of life, I guess.

  “Bye, kid,” he says softly to me, his fingertips caressing the side of my face.

  I turn to go to security, but I snap back around and grab his hand. “Wait!” I say. “One more.”

  I stand on my tiptoes and he bends down so I can place an affectionate, close-lipped kiss on his mouth.

  “Ok,” I say feeling my cheeks flush, “now I can go.”

  “You’re the greatest ever, Lola,” he smiles and gives me a wink.

  “Right back at you, stud,” I smile, blowing him a kiss and heading off to the TSA line.


  When I finally get to my window seat on the plane, I think back on the weekend and on my friendship with James. He means more to me than anyone I know, but I should never combine that with how attractive I find him because it’ll make me fall madly in love with him and that can only lead to disappointment. He’s never disappointed me as a friend, always been loyal and caring, so I shouldn’t fuck that up by expecting more from him.

  The way I freaked out in the kitchen this morning was wrong. I know James. I know what he is. Finding those panties should have come as no shock to me. In the words of Liza Minnelli in Cabaret, “A tiger is a tiger, not a lamb.” James practically radiates sexuality and women lose their minds over him like they’re OD’ing on pheromones or something. The fact that he had a three-way with two porn stars a few days before I arrived isn’t even news. It’s nothing I wouldn’t have already guessed, so it was dumb to have a shit fit over it. He didn’t do anything wrong because I’m not his girlfriend and I don’t hold dominion over who he screws in his free time. I need to accept that and move past it, because I love him so much and he’s my best friend. I can’t harbor any resentment towards him for doing what he always does: getting laid.

  I have class to look forward to, a new school, new friends, new opportunities. My future’s ahead of me and I know James will always be a big part of it, but it might be nice to do some growing up. Maybe flirting with some other guys will give me a chance to stop wistfully dreaming of a relationship with my best friend, who just so happens to be incapable of monogamy. James is in my heart forever, but I need to do what he said; I need to separate it out and put the part of me that adores him far away from the part of me that’s so sexually drawn to him. Never the two shall meet. They never can. It would end in a fucking disaster.

  When the flight attendant announces we’re at cruising altitude, I recline my chair back and decide to catch some sleep. Though James and I may be far apart, we’re always together. As long as I don’t let my lingering emotions get in the way, we can be together forever, the very best and tightest of friends. Sure, maybe we won’t get to fool around anymore, but being best friends is definitely good enough for me.

  ###

  Other Works by Bianca Giovanni

  First Dance

  Exposed

  Connect with Bianca Giovanni

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/BiancaGiovanni

  Tumblr: http://biancagiovanni.tumblr.com

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  Vice, Virtue & Video Coming Soon!

  James and Lola will return in Vice, Virtue & Video, book one of a full-length series that follows the duo in their adult lives. James has become an adult film superstar and lives two doors down from Lola in the San Fernando Valley. Everything seems to be great for these two best friends until a crazy porn producer sets her sights on Lola and James learns the difference between kinky fun and real danger.

  Enjoy this free sample of the first chapter, check out First Dance, a free introductory short and Exposed, the second short in the series.

  “There you are, Lola!” My best friend James says as I walk in the door of my apartment. It smells delicious in here and I know he’s been slaving away on a tasty meal for us. He cooks for me most nights and he has since I moved out to California after graduating from college a couple years ago.

  “Sorry,” I shake my head with frustration, “of course they asked me to make, like, a zillion copies as I was walking out the door.” I’m an Ivy League grad whose only job opportunity is as a glorified secretary in an accountant’s office. Thanks, economy!

  “It’s ok,” James says, walking his tall, chiseled body over to give me a hug. He’s about a foot taller than me and built like Michelangelo’s David, so he’s all firm and muscly as I wrap my arms around him. “I figured I’d wait until you got home to put the pasta in so it wouldn’t get all soggy,” he adds sweetly.

  “Did you do the alfredo tonight?” My mouth waters at the thought.

  “You know it!” He smiles, flashing me his perfect, pearly whites.

  “Last night it was that delicious mustard-thyme chicken and the amazing banana bread, today it’s creamy fettuccine. I think you’re trying to fatten me up,” I grin back up at him. James in an incredible cook and has been since he was a teenager. Though I’m petite and generally pretty lithe, I’ve gained ten pounds since moving out here and I’m certain he’s to blame.

  “You’re, like, 80 pounds soaking wet, kid,” he teases. “Somebody’s gotta help you put some meat on those bones.”

  I smirk and roll my eyes with a laugh.

  “Want a glass of wine?” He offers, heading back to the kitchen.

  “Yeah, lemme take this skirt off, the zipper’s digging into my hip,” I reply, heading towards my bedroom.

  My apartment is small and cramped, but it’s cheap enough for me to afford and it’s two doors away from James’ place on the second floor of our complex.

  I kick off my stilettos, bringing me from 5’6” to my natural 5’2”, and peel off my pencil skirt. I pull my blouse off and change into some yoga pants and a racerback tank top. I twist my long, brown hair into a bun and dart into the bathroom to wash off my makeup. I look a little tired from the long day, but I’m just hanging out with James tonight, so no need to be a glamazon.

  “Here you go,” James says, handing me a glass of red wine as I sit at the counter and watch him finish up the cooking. He looks nice in his worn out jeans and white v-neck t-shirt as he leans over the stove to stir the pasta.

  James is handsome. Very handsome. Aside from having the body of a Greek god, he’s also got a square jaw, full, pouty lips and hazel-green eyes. He wears his hair long, but he usually pulls it back in a short ponytail or messy bun when he’s just chilling at home. I’ve heard people compare him to hunky actor Jason Momoa more than a few times. I understand that James is a hottie, but he’s been my best friend since I was six and it’s hard to picture getting sexual with someone you knew since they were a third grader. Apparently I’m the only girl who doesn’t see him as a sex god, because James has been the ultimate ladies’ man since middle school. He’s three years older than me and everything I’ve learned about sex came from him because he was my next door neighbor and he’d accrued a library of experiences before I’d even got my braces off.

  “So, how was work?” I ask, taking another sip of wine.

  “Good,” he nods, “I had a threesome scene, but it was a quick one, which is why I went out and got the stuff to make alfredo tonight.”

  James is an actor … of sorts. He moved out to L.A. with stars in his eyes after dropping out of college at age 19. With his good looks and charm, he was hoping to become an action star or some kind of Hollywood heartthrob, but his career took a little turn and he’s currently a huge superstar in the wild world of adult films. Most of his friends from back home dropped him when the word got out and his parents basically disowned him. Sometimes I feel like the only person from his past who doesn’t really care about his job. He’s my best friend and always has been, so who gives a shit if he bangs chicks for a living? It’s not like he wasn’t screwing hundreds of girls before he started doing it on camera.

  “Dude! This is so delicious!” I groan as I take a bite of pasta. James could defeat an Iron Chef with his eyes closed.

  He chuckles and smiles proudly, watching me savor another big bite. Aside from cooking me dinner on the regular, James is always taking care of me. Growing up, he was like my big brother and he always looked out for me. I remember him fighting off bullies for me when I was going through my gawky, tween phase in seventh grade and how he’d intimidate boys who got a little over-amorous with me once I hit puberty and emerged with a pair of D cups and a healthy dose of low self-esteem. He’s like my bodyguard, my protector, and he’s the only person I can share absolutely everything with.

  “So, how’s that Eric dude?” He asks, zapping me out of my nostalgic childhood memories.

 
; “Oh, he’s good. He knew Peter was making me work through lunch, so he brought me one of those portobello sandwiches I love,” I reply. Eric is the hot guy who works at the law firm on my floor. He’s about 6’4” and he works out like crazy. He’s got blonde hair and blue eyes and he looks like a hulking viking. At 38, he’s 15 years older than me—which worries James, I know—but he’s sexy and he flirts with me all the time.

  James raises an eyebrow and gives me a look.

  “What?” I laugh, feeling my cheeks starting to flush.

  “He likes you, you know?” He grins with a teasing undertone in his voice.

  “Maybe he’s just being nice,” I reply, knowing very well that it’s not true.

  “He’s been really ‘nice’ for the past three months since you met him,” he teases. “I’m telling you, Lo, dude’s trying to hit that.”

  I laugh and continue to blush before retorting, “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take advice from a guy whose relationships with women begin with ‘action’ and end with someone yelling ‘cut’!”

  “Cold as ice tonight!” He laughs, grabbing his heart.

  I shoot him a smirk and then impersonate the girls in his videos. “Yes, Master Langdon,” I mock, “I’ll be a good girl. Don’t give me a spanking.” I chuckle and roll my eyes. “I swear, how these girls can let you boss them around like that!”

  James has done videos that fall under every category and appeal to almost every fetish, but his most recent genre is BDSM porn. His scenes usually involve a buxom woman tied up or hand cuffed or bound in some other fashion while he goes to town on her with a riding crop or a flogger or whatever instrument is the tool of the day. There’s a lot of “yes, Sir” and “please, Master,” and I’ve never really seen the appeal.

  “I guess I just don’t see the point of spankings and all that,” I shrug. We’ve had this debate since he first got into this particular genre, but he’s never managed to sway me on the whole Dominant/submissive thing.