In These Pages

I love you, John Cameron.

When we first met at Community Addictions Anonymous,

I fucking love you, John.

Remember when I was afraid to tell you that I loved you?

“Fuck,” I groaned. “This is so difficult.”

“Try it again now that you wrote down a few ideas.”

I stood in front of him in the living room, folding the crumpled piece of paper a few more times and tucking it away in the back pocket of my jeans. Then, I took his hands in mine.

“John Cameron, from the moment we met—I just—you know, I think that—we’ve been through so much—” I stammered. “Fuck, I just can’t do this.”

“You’re making this much harder than it has to be, babe.”

“Honestly, Manny, it doesn’t help that you’re you,” I laughed. “I keep trying to picture John, and it’s not working. And you’re wearing that ridiculous pink shirt—”

“—It’s fucking salmon, honey,” he corrected me bluntly. I burst into laughter, shaking my head at him. “There she is.”

“I’m sorry,” I chuckled. “I just keep letting this get to me. I know it should be easy. I’ve been writing my whole life. So, why can’t I write my own vows?”

“You have so much time. They’ll come to you, babe. I promise they will. Now, let’s talk about what you’re going to wear.”

“Tonight? Or this weekend? Or?” I asked, raising my brow at him.

“To… your wedding?” he laughed hysterically. Oh, right. My fucking wedding.

“I mean, a dress?”

“What kind of dress?” he pressed.

“A white one?” I questioned hesitantly. He sighed and shook his head.

“Helpless,” he uttered jokingly.

“Trust me, I know.”

“What time is he coming back from the adult film convention?” he asked. I folded my arms over my chest uncomfortably, giving him an innocent shrug. “You don’t know?”

“He didn’t say,” I replied. “But also, don’t call it the adult film convention like ever again. It’s a fucking porn con.”

“Porn con?” he chuckled.

“Yeah. Call it that.”

“Okay. John at the porn con,” he announced proudly. “Babe, that actually sounds like the name of a porno.”

“Really, Manny?” I whined. “You’re making this harder for me. I don’t like thinking about him being there around all those women… hot women.”

“You know that means nothing to him, honey. He loves you more than, fuck, everything.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed.

“Well, I’ve got to head out. My brother invited me to this hoity-toity thing,” he said.

“As usual. Love you, Manny,” I said, wrapping him up in a hug.

“Love you, babe. I’ll see you soon.”

When Manny left, John’s apartment was completely quiet. I had to remind myself that it was my apartment, too. After we got officially engaged, we moved in together. I asked Manny to be my best man, and John asked Lee to be his. The four of us had all grown pretty close. Manny took an active role in wedding planning, and the moment I finished moving into John’s place, he began the process of helping me with every single detail. He was a natural. I was not.

Those couple of months during the move kept us so busy. John and I were constantly moving boxes, constantly unpacking. We restored my apartment to its original state so that I would get my security deposit back. I put that money toward a wedding band for him. We picked out rings together. We fell more in love. We also dealt with our fair share of stress, too. He was promoted at work, and while he had been editing in a silent capacity for so long, he was suddenly expected to travel sometimes on top of that. It seemed more and more like he was going to conventions and signings, and I was sitting at home alone—in his apartment. Again, I had to remind myself that it was my apartment, too. Not only was this my apartment, but Lee was my neighbor.

I ran to the door excitedly when I heard a knock, and I thought that maybe John was coming home early. When I opened it, there was Lee. His bright eyes flashed at me, and he was holding a bottle of wine and a pizza.

“It’s Friday night. I thought you might be lonely with John gone,” he said.

“I am lonely,” I admitted. “Come on in.”

We sat on the couch and turned on a movie, kicking up our feet and consuming just as much wine as we did pizza. I put the leftovers away. To clarify, there was no wine left over. I opened a second bottle. He opened a third. We talked and laughed, just like old times.

“Do you remember that time that you came to Porter’s and that old lady was in there with the British accent?” he laughed.

“Yes! Gosh, she was like fucking talking about how she got jumped on the subway when she was coming to get her coffee after shopping all day,” I recalled.

“And then she said those famous words, or maybe they were infamous.”

“She did. ‘I’m never going to Porter’s again’,” I giggled, quoting her in my best accent. It didn’t matter how good my accent was, it only mattered that we both remembered how cute and funny the old lady was. He shook his head at me, finishing off his glass of wine as I rested my head on his shoulder. “This is nice. Thank you for this.”

“Anytime. I know you’ve been really busy and really stressed. And I know it’s been hard on you that he’s been away so much.”

“Yeah,” I sighed disappointedly.

“Is there something else on your mind?” he asked.

“I’ve been having trouble… writing my vows,” I admitted hesitantly.

“I would imagine that’s not an easy thing for anyone to do.”

“But I’m a writer,” I reasoned. “I’ve been writing my whole fucking life. I’ve written so many different things. Why is this one thing—this one simple fucking thing—so challenging?”

“Because it’s John Cameron,” he chuckled.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s John Cameron. And you love him,” he reminded me.

“John fucking Cameron,” I sighed, shaking my head slowly. “I do love him. I fucking love that guy.”

“I do, too.”

“You do? Really?” I laughed.

“Yeah. In like a… you know. Like a friend-friend.”

“Like a friend-friend that you sometimes… have sex with?” I asked, turning my voice into a playful whisper at the end.

“I don’t have sex with John,” he stated plainly.

“You guys continue to disagree with me on this, but I know I’m right. You guys fuck me at the same time, and you’re both naked, and you’re both in the same room.”

“That means nothing,” he chuckled dismissively.

“It means that you trust each other a lot. It means something, even if you don’t want it to,” I insisted.

“Well, I do love that guy. He’s pretty great.”

“I like him. He’s alright,” I laughed.

“Now you’ve got me thinking about it,” he said, pulling away from me and refilling his glass.

“Thinking about what? How much you love him?” I teased playfully.

“Thinking about… that,” he uttered, eyeing my face up and down as he sat across from me in the dark living room. The sun had gone down. Hours had passed. He’d kept me company for quite some time.

“Lee,” I cautioned, “you know that we can’t do anything—”

“—While he’s not here,” he continued, reading my mind. “I know. But it’s been so long since the three of us—”

“Oh, I know it has.”

“If you don’t tell him, I won’t tell him,” he suggested quietly.

“Tell him what? Nothing can happen,” I shrugged, throwing back the rest of my wine. He immediately poured me another glass. Is he serious? He knows that John would not go for this. Fuck, John would be livid. And what if he came through that door… right… fucking… now? My thoughts were making me so nervous, so anxious, and I decided to press him again. “Tell him what?” I demanded, taking the glass from his hand. He took it back from me and placed it on the table, and he placed his large hand on my face, pulling me in and kissing me. Sparks flew between us, our bodies surging and buzzing with excitement. “We can’t, Lee. I’m serious.”

“If he was sitting where I am right now, he would want to please you,” he said. “Let me do it.”

“I don’t know what he would want. He’s not here that much… anymore,” I said softly. “But that doesn’t mean that you should.”

“What I should do and what I want to do—they aren’t always the same thing, Quinn,” he sighed, his eyes following down the curve of my body until they reached my belt loops. He looped his fingers through the two that were closest to the button of my jeans, grabbing them and tugging at them. My hips jutted forward so easily when paired up against his strength. Fuck. That feels… amazing. “He’ll forgive you.”

“He won’t have to forgive me because I’m not going to do it.”

“Please,” he whispered, his eyes searching mine as his hands left my beltloops and traveled toward the center of my jeans. I shook my head at him slowly, not saying a word. But fuck. I want it. Thinking about wanting it and showing that I wanted it somehow became the same thing in an instant, and I was biting my lip at him, my eyes fluttering nervously down to his hands, which were only seconds away from undoing my jeans.

“If you won’t tell him, I won’t tell him,” I repeated in a whisper. What am I thinking? This never ends well. It never really ends poorly, either, though—does it? He undid the top button on my jeans.

“These are new,” he chuckled softly. “Look at all these buttons.” He slid his fingertips gently beneath the first one, guiding them back up and positioning his hands at my waist to grab onto me and pull me into another kiss. “So much to unwrap,” he whispered against my lips. I gasped as he undid another two, my eyes lighting up. He glanced down at his hands at the same time I did, and his eyes slowly traveled up my body, meeting my gaze once more. “These are new, too. Aren’t they, Quinn?” he asked in a shocked whisper, undoing yet another button to expose more of my panties. I nodded, biting my lip. “Has he seen them?”

“Not yet,” I admitted.

“Fuck,” he sighed. “This isn’t right.” Lee was such a good guy. He was such a fucking sweetheart. I knew that from the start, from the first time that I’d met him at Porter’s. So, how was it that when he had this realization that something wasn’t sitting right with him, he was somehow okay with proceeding? That had me fucking perplexed. Maybe he’s enjoying it as much as I am. He licked his lips at me slowly, peering down once more and undoing the final buttons on my jeans, examining my new panties in their full beauty. “You don’t—this doesn’t have—” He didn’t finish his thought; he just glanced at my chest, his eyes darting back to mine afterward. I responded with another nod and another lip bite. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I’ve gotta see this. Let me take you to bed.”

“If he comes home, he will fucking kill us both,” I breathed, practically mouthing the words to him.

“Baby,” he chuckled. “If he comes home, and I have you in bed—” He stopped himself, unbuttoning my blouse and exposing my matching bra. “—And you’re wearing this, and I’m fucking taking care of you like you deserve,” he continued, his eyes running down the valley between my breasts. He rolled them dramatically, releasing a gentle laugh and shaking his head at me. “He’s going to want to join. Isn’t that right, you sexy little slut?”

I gasped, my jaw dropping immediately at his words. He didn’t say anything else, he just took my hands and pulled me to my feet, guiding me back to the bedroom.

“I’m serious, Lee. He will fucking kill us,” I insisted, trying to catch my breath as he tossed me onto the bed and kissed me hungrily, pulling at my bottom lip with his teeth. The fierce intensity of his kiss escalated, ripping into my lip as he grabbed my hair roughly and trailed his tongue up my cheek. Holding my head in place firmly, he slapped my cheek and leaned in close to my ear.

“You don’t wear this around me and expect not to get fucked.”