Feisty Francesca

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#50 Needing more than a maybe

The kids all cheer when I sit down behind the piano, and I smile at them before starting the song they’ve all been asking for: How far I’ll go from the movie Moana. Some sing along, others just watch me play.

Even since James broke up with me, I’ve been playing in the pediatrics wing on the piano in the small lounge at the end of every shift and sometimes on my days off. There used to be a volunteer who did this four times a week, a guy in his sixties, but he recently died of a heart-attack. When I heard from a fellow nurse that the kids missed their musical afternoon, I started coming here as often as I can. I love it. Music, kids, medicine, it all comes together for me here in the pediatrics wing.

I wish I could work here.

“Nurse Berger,” Dr. Massenheimer, the head of pediatric surgery greets me when I’m done playing Disney songs and ready to head back home. “You’re here. Again.”

“Yes,” I affirm, swallowing a snide remark. “The kids don’t seem to mind.”

“No.” He gives me a hard look. “The kids don’t.” By which he means that he does. “Shouldn’t you be at work, down in the ER?”

“It’s my day off,” I tell him with a fake smile. “I’m volunteering to play here.”

“Oh,” he says, sighing. “Okay then.”

“So glad you approve,” I can’t help myself from saying in my most sarcastic tone. I don’t know what I ever did to make the guy hate me, but he sure does. “I hear you’re looking for a new nurse?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding. “I need a good nurse in here.” By which, of course, he means that I’m not good. Fuck him. I’m good at what I do. I work hard. What more does he want? Sure, I’m not trained specifically for this unit, but if he just gave me a chance, I could show him what a fast learner and hard worker I am.

“I will surely throw my hat in the ring,” I tell him, trying to sound pleasant.

“You could do that,” he replies with a shrug, making it perfectly obvious that I’m never ever going to work as long as he is here. Stupid fucker.

I go home in a bad mood, even though I had fun with the kids. The General pretty much attacks me, begging for attention the moment I get home. Thomas hasn’t been around much since we slept together and I had to tell him I wasn’t ready to commit to someone so soon after James, so the General has been a little lonely, I guess. The poor thing.

I scoop him up in my arms and go out into the hallway of the building, walking to Thomas’ front door and kicking it with my foot so I won’t drop the General.

“Go away!” Thomas sounds groggy. “I’m in mood for another pep talk, Dylan.”

“Not Dylan,” I reply loudly so he can hear me through the door. “Just a fluffy cat and his owner.”

“Fran!” His voice sounds cleared now, happier. The door swings open and he’s standing there in nothing bot his boxer shorts, his tattoos on full display, his nipple piercing begging me to touch it and that messy blonde hair falling onto his shoulders, pleading me to run my hands through it.

“The General misses you,” I say a little breathless, tearing my eyes from his gorgeous body and forcing myself to look into his eyes instead. That doesn’t help much, since his blue eyes are looking at me like he wants to devour me whole.

“Yeah, well, I miss the little dipshit too, but I can’t really be around his owner right now,” Thomas says honestly. “You’re here now though, so come on in, I guess.”

I step into his apartment, kick the door shut behind me and let the General out of my arms. He runs right up to Thomas and starts rubbing against his leg. Thomas smiles and picks him up, holding him against his chest.

“So you missed me, huh?” Thomas says to my cat in a sweet voice. “Missed you too, you big ugly ball of fur.”

The General gets into one of his moods without warning, scratching Thomas’ chest before jumping away from him and hiding underneath the couch. Thomas hisses and I rush over to see how bad it is. I touch his chest carefully, trying to assess the depth of the wound. It’s just a small scab, across one of his tattoos of a birth in flight.

“We should clean it up just in case, but it’s just a little scratch,” I say, my hand still on his chest. When I look up, I realize that it was stupid to get this close to him, especially when he’s naked except for his shorts.

Thomas’ eyes meet mine and he puts one hand on my hip, drawing me closer. I open my mouth to tell him that this is the last thing we should be doing, that this is not at all why I came over, but Thomas presses his lips to mine before I can form any words. Our tongues find each other without trouble, fitting together like puzzle pieces. He feels familiar, and he knows just how to knot his hand into my hair and pull slightly to tilt my head up to him, getting me all hot and bothered.

He knows me. Thomas knows my body better than anyone, and he knows what he does to me when he’s holding me like that, all sweet and commanding at the same time, pushing his cock against me so I can feel how hard he’s getting.

Suddenly, he jerks back and drops his hands from me, breathing hard. “I can’t do this,” he says, pulling his hands through his hair. “Oh fuck, Dylan was right.” He turns away from me and grabs a pair of sweatpants form his kitchen chair, pulling them on.

“Sorry,” I say, not sure what exactly I’m apologizing for.

“I hope to God you’re not really sorry,” Thomas says, meeting my gaze again. “I hope that you thought that was too fucking good to stop being so goddamn stupid. I want you to realize that James was just a mistake, and that you want to be with me. Fuck being on your own, fuck getting over him, fuck being smart and responsible and being on your own for a while. Just be with me, Fran. We’ve been doing this moronic dance for three years now, and I can’t do it anymore.”

“I can’t,” I say, feeling my heart break a little. “It’s only been two weeks since James broke up with me, Thom. I’m still hurt, messed-up. You deserve better. You deserve for me to know for sure if this is what I want. To be in the right state of mind to make a decision.”

“No, I deserve to finally be with the girl I’ve been in love with for three fucking years!” Thomas yells, sounding a little hysteric. “Dylan told me months ago to stop trying with other girls and just tell you how I felt, but I was in denial. I didn’t want to be in love with you, because I didn’t think you felt the same way, but then we talked and you said that the reason you never tried with me was because you thought I wanted some goddamn housewife who stops working to take care of a whole litter of kids, and I though… I thought that maybe you felt it too.” He gestures between us. “You can’t deny that when we kiss, it feels fucking good, Fran. Every single time I touch you I just want to part your legs and bury myself in you. Even when you’re in your pajamas under a blanket with the General on your lap and a cup of tea in your hands, looking exhausted from working a night shift, you’re still the most sexy girl in the whole fucking world.”

I don’t know how to react to that. It’s always nice when someone wants you and thinks you’re sexy even at your worst, but I don’t love Thomas. I like him, I want to fuck his brains out right now, and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been wondering for the past three years what it would be like to be his girlfriend, but I’m not in love with him.

The question is… could I be?

Could I fall for him?

Right now, the answer is maybe. That is not the answer he wants, but it’s the only one I can give him.

“No no no, don’t get all up in your head,” Thomas pleads, grabbing my hands. “Just feel, Fran.” His lips find mine again, and his hands are on my breasts. He grunts into me when he feels I’m not wearing a bra, pinching my nipples through my shirt.

My mind shuts down for a moment, and I slip my hand into his pants, running my hand over his cock and moaning when I feel his piercing. I don’t know why it turns me on so much, but I can’t think about anything but him fucking me again, making me come so hard I’m seeing stars.

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel our connection,” Thomas says, kissing my neck. “This feels so right, Franny. I know that it was stupid sleeping with you two weeks ago, but I was so scared to miss my window. Our timing has never been great, always only getting a month or two before one of us meets someone else. Every time you hook up with some new guy, I feel my heart break a little. I want to be the guy you come home to, Fran. The one to comfort you when you’re sad, to watch you make breakfast in your underwear, to fuck you to oblivion every single night. Please tell me that at least a small part of you wants that too.”

“Maybe,” I breathe, moving my hand up and down his cock, enjoying how he’s grunting and panting because of the way I’m making him feel.

“Maybe isn’t good enough.” Thomas jerks away again, leaving me wet and wanting to pull him against me again. He shakes his head when I reach out, his eyes sad. “I can’t do this, Fran. This is why I haven’t been over the past two weeks. I need all of you, not just these hot fleeting moments. Dylan told me I need to give you space, but every other time I’ve given you space and time, one of us ended up in someone else’s bed. I don’t want you to go back to James, or give in to Joshua, or meet someone else. I want you to be with me, but not just for a few hours while I fuck you. I want you with me for all of it. As my girlfriend.”

I’ve never heard Thomas talk so much. He usually lets his body do the talking. And most of the things he says on a normal day are utter bullshit, jokes, funny remarks. This is not a normal day. I can’t believe he’s been in love with me for three years.

Part of me wishes this was one of those moments in a romantic comedy where the friends-with-benefits realize that they’ve both been wanting more all along, and they confess their undying love for each other, unable to believe that it took them this long to figure things out.

This is not a movie, though. It’s my life. And no matter how much I like Thomas, I can’t tell him I’ll be his. Not now. Not yet. Maybe someday, but not when I still dream of James at night, and have a hard time keeping the tears at bay when I hear a song that reminds me of him.

“Sorry,” I say softly, wiping at my eyes. Fuck, I’m going to cry. “I’m not saying no, but I can’t give you more than a maybe right now. It’s too soon, Thomas. I don’t want to jump in too soon. I need to feel like myself again, to figure out what I want and need.”

“Want me,” Thomas orders in a pleading tone. “Need me. I already know who you are, and I hate that James made you feel like you need to find yourself again or something. You’re already who you need to be, and you don’t have to be alone just because that idiot doesn’t realize that he’s throwing away his shot with the best girl ever. You don’t have to love me yet. Just be with me. We’re so good together, I’m sure you’ll grow to love me. A connection like ours is rare. I’ve never felt this with anyone before. Just try with me. Don’t let our window close again.”

“I can’t,” I breathe, looking down at the floor with tears streaming down my face. “Don’t ask me to choose right now, Thomas. I can’t.”

“I can’t sit around for another month or even longer, wondering if you will finally realize that I could be it for you,” Thomas says, sounding sad. “I just can’t do it anymore. It’s tearing me apart. Even Dylan is sick of me, and that guy has the patience of a kindergarten teacher.”

“Then don’t wait,” I say, even though it hurts that he’s giving up this easily. “I’m not asking you to. I just… It’s only been two weeks, Thom. I don’t want a relationship right now. I can’t give you what you need, not now, not in this moment.”

“Maybe isn’t good enough,” he grunts, pulling at his hair. “I will probably hate myself for this in a day or two, but I’m going crazy waiting for you. You either want me or you don’t. I can’t do maybe.”

“Thomas…” This isn’t fair. It just isn’t. I get that he’s hurting, and I hate that I made him feel this way, but if I tell him yes right now, it would just be because I’m scared to lose him, scared to pass up on an opportunity to see if we could be something. He’s right, we have a connection, but that’s not enough to commit to being his girlfriend just two weeks after the only real relationship I’ve ever had ended in flames. I’m hurting and that’s not a good place to start a new relationship.

“Okay, then I guess I’ve got my answer,” Thomas says with a sigh when I just stand there, crying, staring at him, praying he will take his words back. “This fucking sucks, Fran.”

“Yes,” I agree. “It really does.”

We reach for each other at the same time, giving ourselves over to a desperate, all-consuming kiss that tastes like my tears. He grabs my ass and pulls my legs around his waist, lifting me onto the kitchen table and grinding against me with frantic grunts pouring out of him while he pulls off my shirt and twists my nipples, making me cry out.

“Fuck,” Thomas murmurs against my skin before he kisses me again. “This is a stupid idea.”

“Yes,” I agree, already tugging down his pants. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why does something so wrong feel so fucking right?” he asks, undoing the button on my jeans and tugging them off along with my panties, leaving me naked on the edge of his table while he pulls off his sweats and boxershorts, freeing his erection.

“I can’t tell you yes,” I say, trying to stop this irrational lust-filled moment in its tracks, before we’re too far gone. “I just can’t, Thom.”

“I don’t care,” he says, stepping between my legs and rubbing my clit in fast, circular motions. “I bet I can make you beg for me to fuck you within a minute. Does anyone else ever turn you on like I do, Fran? Because no one has ever felt like you. I let my piercer put a goddamn hole in my cock just to please you, baby. I don’t want this to be our last time, but if it is, I want to make it count.”

“We shouldn’t-” My words are cut off my his lips on mine, and I know I’m gone for when he starts rubbing the tip of his penis against me, using my wetness and his piercing to get me off. I cry out his name as I come, digging my nails into his back.

“I want you to be mine,” Thomas says as he pushes into me slowly, looking me in the eye with a pleading look in his eyes. “And right now, I want you to beg me to fuck you.”

“Yes,” I moan. “Fuck me, Thomas, please.”

He starts thrusting, playing my body like a fiddle, causing a second orgasm to roll over me so fast that my vision turns black for a moment. He pushes me down on the table so I’m laying flat on my back while he picks up the pact, rubbing my clit while he pounds me, sending another wave of pleasure through my body.

“Do you feel my piercing rubbing your G-spot?” he asks in a dark voice. “I got that just for you, baby. I got it to pleasure you like no man before me ever has. I’d do anything for you, Franny. Why can’t you see that? Now come for me again, baby. I want us to come together.”

“Yes,” I breathe, unable to do anything but agree with him when he’s making me feel this good.

We find our release together, both of us out of breath and sweaty when he finally pulls out and pulls me up into his arms so he can kiss me. We stay like that for a long time, kissing and touching each other tenderly.

It feels like goodbye.

I don’t want it to be, but I can tell he feels it too.

He needs more than just a maybe and I can’t give it to him. Not now.

“I’ll miss you,” Thomas murmurs, kissing my neck. “I’ll miss you so fucking much, Franny. Please change your mind, baby. Please.”

I shake my head, my tears making both of us all wet. “I can’t, Thom. I can’t.”

He sighs and grabs his sweats for the floor, pulling them back on. He calls for the General and drops to his knees to pull the cat out from other the couch. I get dressed in a haze, never taking my eyes off Thomas. He smiles wryly and hands me General Fluffington, who doesn’t seem to want to leave Thomas’ arms.

“It’s time for you to go,” he says tightly, looking like it’s taking everything he’s got not to pull me against him again. “Please.”

“Okay,” I breathe, moving to the hallway while sobs keep rocking my body. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” he whispers before closing the door behind me, locking me out of his life.

That’s what it feels like. He’s locking the door on us, on what might have been in a few months if he hadn’t gotten impatient.

I don’t blame him, it’s been three years for him and that’s a long time for expectations to build up. But for me, it’s only been a few months since finding out about his feelings and only two weeks of being single and able to figure out of he’s someone I can see myself with in the future.

“Come on,” I tell the General while I sink down on the couch with him. “Give me some love.”

The General hisses and jumps out of my arms. He trots over to the front door and scratches at it. It’s like he wants to go back to Thomas’ place instead of being here with me.

I can’t blame him.

I don’t want to be here with myself either.

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