A text from Sean* was always guaranteed to make me smile. A good friend of mine, he and I only saw each other maybe once a year because he lived a state away, but when we did, it was like no time had passed. We’d stay up talking deep into the night, switching back and forth between big, philosophical life questions and laughing about nothing at all. Friends of mine all admired his enviable traits—sandy blonde hair, steely, Leo DiCaprio-like eyes that lit up whenever he laughed, a killer singing voice, and a particularly gorgeous ass just begging to be felt up. I mean, I had noticed them, too (I’m only human, after all) but I always reminded myself to not harbor a crush on the guy. We were great friends, but with both of us rooted in our respective states, it would never work out.
Still, on some sleepless nights, I found myself wondering….
One random Thursday about five years into our friendship, Sean called out of the blue. He never called.
“Hey.” His voice sounded hollowed out.
I sat up in bed immediately. “What’s wrong?”
He let out one sniffle. One. “Um, my dad died.”
It felt like the bottom fell out. Sean and his dad had had a complicated relationship, but ultimately a loving one. “Oh, Sean. Sweetie, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Listen, I know it’s really last minute, but we’re having the funeral this weekend. Do you…do you think you could be there?”
I didn’t own a car. I didn’t have a way to get there. I didn’t even know if I owned a black dress.
“I’ll be there,” I answered without thinking.
One smelly, overnight Greyhound bus ride later, I arrived in Phoenix just past dawn. Sean and I had a mutual friend, Stella*, who lived in town and offered to let me crash at her and her wife’s place while I paid my respects. She picked me up and whisked me away to her house to freshen up.
A few hours later, dressed in a boring but appropriate black dress I’d borrowed, Stella and I pulled up to the funeral home. The scene was stark: a bright blue sky, mustard-yellow palos verde trees lining the streets, and a parade of dour-looking strangers all draped in black.
Sean stood near the front door in a short receiving line, wearing a black, too-big-for-him jacket with gold buttons that made him look like a little boy forced to go to church. His handsome face was wan with grief, and I wondered if he felt like a lost little boy in that moment, too.
He broke from giving polite handshakes when it was my turn, instead pulling me into a deep hug. His cologne, all cedar and something darker, flooded my nose as he held me tight.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered.
“Wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”
Sean gave a funny and heartfelt eulogy. At the cemetery, Stella and I stood farther back in the crowd and I fought tears as we watched the coffin lower into the ground. My dear friend’s face was so stony as he threw the first patch of dirt into the earth, all I wanted to do was hug him so hard he felt it in his soul.
“Hey.” Sean offered a watery smile as he walked up, but seemed a bit lighter in spirit now that the ceremonies were done. I gave his arm a loving squeeze, mentally scolding myself for noting how toned his biceps felt at a moment like this one. “Thanks again for being here.”
“Of course,” Stella offered.
Sean’s face brightened. “Hey, so um, I have to go to this private family dinner thing, but my cousins flew in for this. They’re fun, and God knows we could all use a drink. You guys wanna join us tonight, around eight?”
“Do I have to keep wearing black?” I quipped.
Sean laughed. It was good to hear him laugh. “Fuck no. I’m outta this get-up as soon as I can politely get away with it.”
Stella declined, pleading an event she and her wife couldn’t escape, but offered to let me borrow her cherry-red hybrid while they took their sedan.
One wardrobe change and a few hours later, I arrived at the bar in a casual blue dress and turned a corner to find about half a dozen guys and girls who looked like grayscale versions of Sean, whooping it up over pitchers of beer. I smiled. I couldn’t blame them; some of the best belly laughs I’ve ever had came from letting off steam after family funerals.
Sean caught my eye and waved me over into a seat right next to his. “Guys, this is Jennie, my friend from L.A. She took a bus overnight to be here. Make any friends on the journey?”
I poured myself a beer from the pitcher. “Oh, you mean the guy who smelled like onions who fell asleep on my shoulder and drooled all over my new sweater? Yeah, we’re engaged now.”
All of the cousins were lovely and the beer was even better. Pitcher after pitcher came and went, and I felt the fuzzy looseness of a buzz spreading through my limbs. Time got a little muddled, too. I remember that the cousins started to peel off one by one. And I remember Sean and I talking about this and that long after everyone had left, idly looking at the wall of muted sports games but not at each other.
What I didn’t remember was when I had put a hand behind his neck or why it was still there. And I definitely didn’t remember why he had his hand on my knee. But I wasn’t about to tell him to move. My heart started racing.
“Hey,” Sean uttered. “I have an idea.”
I looked over at him, willing my breath to slow down. “What’s that?”
He looked away from the screens and straight at me, some nervousness in his eyes. “Um, never mind.”
“No, c’mon! What is it?”
“Nah.”
“Oh c’mon, Sean. You can’t pull that; you’ve gotta tell me now. What is it?”
He took in a breath and squeezed my knee a little, his thumb caressing the skin just under the hem of my blue dress. “I thought maybe we could go somewhere and make out?”
Was…was this really happening?! Truth be told, I’m always surprised to find out someone is attracted to me (yay, self-esteem issues). But to hear my long-term, never-gonna-happen crush asking me to kiss his face on the day he put his father in the ground?
“Let me pay my tab,” I said.
Within three minutes, we had settled the bill, hopped into Stella’s car, and driven around the corner in front of an office building—deserted that late at night—for privacy. Within three seconds I was on his lap in the passenger seat, Sean’s hands going far past the hem of my skirt.
I cupped his face—a face I had thought about kissing for years—a million emotions sprinting across my heart. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”
He looked up at me, arousal clear in his eyes, his hands, his everywhere. “Yes. Now, would you be a good friend and kiss me into oblivion?”
I pressed my lips to his as he pulled my hips closer to his body, my knees hitting the fabric of the back of his seat. Jesus FUCK, this guy was a good kisser. With every passing second I could feel myself getting wetter. I went on the attack and nibbled an earlobe as he dove into the nook between my shoulder and my neck, pulling moans of approval from us both.
One of Sean’s hands gently tugged down the shoulders of my dress, baring my breasts, his mouth delicately kissing the newly exposed skin. I responded in kind by unbuttoning his shirt, lightly scratching the hairy chest I found there.
“Good,” Sean growled. “That’s good. I like it a little rough.”
I could tell. And I could feel just how much, if you catch my drift.
With some surprising strength he pulled me even closer to him, burying his face in my cleavage. I wrapped my arms around his neck, grinding hard against him. This was quickly moving from innocent making out to full-on fooling around territory, but I had no complaints. I was dying to see just how far we would go.
As if he heard my thoughts, his hand gently snapped at the top of my panties. “Do you want me to finger you?”
“Yes,” I groaned as my hands plowed through his hair. “Fuck yes.”
The thing about playing with new lovers is they can often surprise you, no matter how well you might think you know them. I felt his hand go over my ass and reach back towards him to approach my clit from behind. I looked down into his eyes quizzically.
“This is easier for my wrist,” he explained, starting to move his hands.
Oh. OH. Yes. Yes, we like this approach.
Sean moved deftly as I kissed him harder and harder, my moans growing by the second. Why had we never done this before? Oh, right, thousands of miles. Stupid miles.
Sean broke off from the kiss. “Fuck, I want you. Do you want to…?”
“Wait.” I kissed him again, my hands first unbuckling his pants, then reaching around to that fabled ass. Bless him, it was just as juicy as I had imagined. I dug into a back pocket and pulled out a condom. “Oh yeah, let’s do this.”
Laughing, I rolled off him for a moment as he pulled out his (frankly, impressive) cock and slipped the condom on, then I hopped back on and guided him into me. The bliss was immediate for us both. He felt like a puzzle piece I’d been looking for for years that I finally found and clicked into place.
I cupped his face again and rode him hard, every tingle and touch pushing us further and further, our screams getting louder until finally—gripping skin and sweating and breathing hard—I felt the sweet release of my orgasm explode and spread through every atom of my body. Sean, aroused by my joy, got in a few more thrusts before he joined me in that carnal wonderland.
After a few more kisses and embraces, I dismounted and we both worked on getting back to looking like we hadn’t just had the best fuck that poor hybrid had probably ever seen.
“Hey,” Sean said. “Thank you.”
I touched his cheek. “For that?”
“For helping me feel good.” His smile faltered, and he gestured at nothing in the air. “For helping me…for helping me to feel anything for a while other than this.”
Sean blinked and a tear fell down his cheek. I cleared it off with my thumb and pulled him into a deep hug. For the first time I saw that day, he wept, his body shaking, tears dampening the strap of my dress.
Grief is a funny thing. It comes in waves and no there’s no rulebook on how to do it, and it is a profound guest when it takes up room in our hearts—waning and waxing but there, present, making itself known, bleeding into even the most unexpected of moments.
I held Sean like a child, letting him cry for I don’t even know how long until it passed. By the time we broke apart, the fog on the windows had relented and his tears morphed into the most surprising thing—laughter.
“What?” I asked.
He pointed. “We’re right in front of my dentist’s office. I had no idea.”
I joined him in the laugh. “Well, I guess now you have a new reason to smile whenever you see the dentist.”
Sean and I are still very close friends a decade after that wild night. We never tried to make a relationship work—we live in different states and in different worlds. But we still like to tease each other; every six months, I’ll get a very specific text from him.
All it says is two emojis: “🦷 😈”.
And then it’s my turn to smile.
*Name has been changed.
