Changing Positions (Brooks Haven Bears 3)

Chapter 17 - Dopamine

Emily

Kisses are addictive, I realize. They also release dopamines, and high levels of dopamine can make someone euphoric. Sounds great, right? In my case, it may mean triggering mania, but most of the times, I don’t really care. Not caring is a dangerous thing.

“We should stop this,” I whisper, but my leg is still slung over Hans’. We’ve been seeing each other for two weeks now, thankful that we didn’t have to leave Brooks Haven for the Christmas holidays. Because of my mother’s delicate condition, the three families are better off at home. It also means that everyone is within driving distances from each other, ready to find out our little secret. I feel like Lance suspects what’s going on between Hans and me, but my brother seems oblivious or just doesn’t want to believe that I’m now technically an adult.

“Do you mean it?” he asks gruffly, his palm on my cheek. I like how callused it is, so different from what you’ll expect from a rich boy like him. Of course, there’s hockey. His hands know how to handle a stick, and I want him to handle me.

“Yeah,” I say, but I don’t really mean it. We’re careful about our meetings, making out with our clothes on all the time. We also more often do it on and not under the sheets, too. It’s difficult. It’s frustrating, but we know we’re not ready. At least, I’m not. Hans assures me he understands, but he’s poking me with his hard d**k right now and I’m doing my very best not to grind against it. So, at least one part of me hasn’t gotten the memo that we’re taking things slowly.

It’s late in the afternoon, and we’re expected at the New Year’s Eve party my family’s throwing in a few hours. I don’t know why my dad thought it was a good idea, but I suspect he’s doing it for my mom. She loves parties.

“You’re right. We need to get ready. I also need to get back home, pretend that I wasn’t even here,” Hans says, as he reluctantly gets up, a hand lingering on my calf after he unslung my leg from his hip.

I drink him in. He’s wearing a matching grey shirt and sweatpants. He may be fully dressed, but his whole outfit doesn’t hide all his yummy muscles, or how hard he is right now. I don’t know how he sticks with me, when I always give him a case of blue balls. I now understand why Lance wants him to lose his virginity with some random woman. He needs the experience, but we can do it together. I’ve been reading about s*x and watching porn just to get ideas. I’m usually equal parts riveted and horrified, but I’m not ready to tell Hans. All I know is that the getting turned on part should be easy. Hans is devastatingly hot. It’s a relief to admit it to myself nowadays.

I’ve clung to Hans’ biceps many times just to hold them close and sniff them. It always gets a laugh from him. He said he thought I would appreciate his abs more, but they’re too close to the dangerously deep V that goes down where I shouldn’t quite yet. So, I have somehow abstained.

“You don’t have to go home. Didn’t you bring your tux here for a reason?” I ask. “You can drive me to the party.”

“Lance already suspects that we, uh, are together,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “That’s going to confirm it.”

“I’ve noticed,” I say, getting up and stretching. I’m wearing a tank top and boy shorts, black except for small pink dots. One little tug after a possible lapse in self-control and I’m good to go, but I trust Hans - more than I trust myself. He loves tracing the ink on my thighs with his fingertips, not knowing just how much it undoes me. But he knows when to stop. He’s a good guy, a poster boy for consent.

“And you still want us to arrive there together?” he asks, quirking a brow.

“Yeah. Do you really want me to take an Uber when I’m going to wear a dress not much longer than these shorts?” I tease.

His face looks a little stricken, as he scans my body as if he wasn’t touching most of it just a few minutes ago. He bridges the gap between us so quickly it takes my breath away. He pulls me toward him, and I quickly melt. It’s not how I thought I would be with a guy. I never thought I would ever be with anyone at all. This whole thing doesn’t have a label yet, and there isn’t even an assurance that it will last. We’re just two virgins surprised to have found each other–to have found someone who can understand the need to balance intimacy and control.

Experimentation.

Those with my problem can develop an addiction to it. Some even say it’s difficult to stick with one guy, but I call bullshit on that. I don’t have the urge to find someone else, at least not right now. While I find Enzo cute, I haven’t imagined him kissing me. At all. Supposedly, bipolar people become hypersexual during a state of mania, and it’s why I’m taking it slow. I want to prove to Hans that when I do decide to do the deed, I want it. It’s not my disease calling for it. He was taking pre-med classes. So, he knows what the disease can be like. It must be why it’s so easy to be open to him. He’s the only person beyond blood-related family members who’s seen me lose control several times, and the only one who’ve seen me lose control in the sheets. Sort of.

“Okay. We’ll go there together.”

“It’s not as if we’re 100% careful. Your car’s in my building’s parking lot almost every day,” I remind him, fighting the urge to moan as he presses me into his body.

“We can make it every day, too, if you want. I can move in to this building.”

“Don’t do that,” I protest, but a thrill goes through me. What if we can have that? Unlimited time? “It’s also almost time for you to get busy with your Master’s and hockey. You need to focus.”

Hockey is bad enough, without his graduate studies taking up the rest of his time. He has to wake up before the crack of dawn to get ready for practice. He’s intense about the game, and it reminds me that although his graduate degree is a momentary reprieve, he’ll soon have to leave for the NHL. Everyone else believes that he’s just gunning for another Frozen Four while he’s captain, and then he’s leaving. The thought makes my chest tighten. I can’t hold on to him when agents have been scouting him since he was barely a preteen.

“You’re right. I need to focus,” he says, letting go of me as if he is waking up from a dream. I’m a little disappointed that he’s readily agreeing with me, but reason tells me we’re alike in the way we look at our goals. I just don’t want to feel as if I’m the reason he may lose that razor-sharp focus he’s always been known for.

I’m headed for the bathroom to change, but he stops me by touching my elbow. I turn to see a vulnerable look on his face. He’s about to say something he’s not sure will sit well with me.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to change your clothes here, Emily,” he says. “I want this to be our new normal.”

“Our new normal? What exactly is this?” I ask, afraid and excited to know what his answer would be.

“I think you know, Emily,” he says.

“I don’t,” I say, being extra difficult, but I can’t help but smile. I don’t want him to say anything–not yet. I just love having him here with me.

Hans, smart guy that he is, leans down for a kiss. He’s proof that virgins can know what they’re doing. It’s the way he starts off chaste, our lips pressing together. Then, he opens my mouth with his tongue and just draws me in again to what got us on my bed in the first place.

“Uh, Hans,” I say weakly. “We need to go.”

“Change into your gown for me, then.”

So, I do. He sits on the edge of the bed, as I’m a stripper preparing to give him a private show, and it makes me feel so wickedly good. By the time I’m in my dress, he rushes off to change into his tux in the bathroom. I chuckle.

No fair.

**

We reach my parents’ place on time, with a few minutes to spare. While late may sound fashionable, we’re here for family. Lance and Jason have the same idea, already there, helping make sure everything is set up right. Each has a date in arm, and I can’t help but think that coming with Hans may not be the right idea. Is everyone expected to come with a date? Kiss at the strike of midnight?

Lance is with a tall blonde with an athletic build. I’m guessing it’s the tennis player that he has been dating off and on. I wonder what she feels about not being exclusive. Or are they? My brother’s with a girl with a honey-colored complexion and short, black hair. Oh, she looks so elegant, but who is she?

Lance doesn’t look too happy, though, and Jason has his poker face on. Something’s up.

“Don’t overthink it,” Hans whispers. “I’m ready when you’re ready to tell them about us.”

But what’s exactly to say? My mom expects that when I do name a guy, I’ll be ready to get engaged to the same guy. I’m not sure a vague type of liking is acceptable.

“Oh, there you are, honey!” my mother exclaims, striding toward me. She looks great, wearing a screaming red dress. My heart stutters at the sight. I hope she’s not having one of those days. Bright eyes. Too much enthusiasm. Excited chatter.

As she reaches us, I notice that a guy about Hans’ height and age is standing behind her. He’s quiet, but his smug smile speaks volumes.

“Hey, mom,” I murmur, as she kisses both my cheeks. “Hans drove me here.”

“So good to see you looking well, Hans! Didn’t you bring a date? Your mom told me about a girl who watched one of your more recent games with her in their usual booth.”

“Um, n-no. I -,” Hans stammers, glancing at me with a panicked look that I’m not used to from him.

“He didn’t bring a date, mom. I think he feels bad that I’m coming to the party on my own,” I say hurriedly, sounding like a younger version of my mom. Guilt courses through me as the words spill out. What could be wrong about telling them about Hans and me? We grew up together. Some people may even say that it’s natural for the two of us to grow closer. A lot closer. My cheeks heat at the thought of us getting even closer each day. Slowly, yes, but no less hot–probably because I wouldn’t know any better.

“Oh, maybe it’s not yet too late to call the girl, Hans. I’m here with Gus, who wants to meet Emily.”

Fuck.

The look that Hans gives me says “It’s now or never,” but I’m a little coward and my mom is possibly manic that all I can say is “Oh.”

A crash and someone yelling in the background temporarily save as from an awkward pause.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Lance’s parents are having some issues,” she says. Then adds with a whisper, “I think his father has been cheating on his mother.”

I turn to Hans, still only a few inches to my right. His face shows he did not know before tonight. I wonder what else will crash in the picture perfect painting our three families seem to show everyone else? I look at my mom’s manic eyes and vow that I will help her get through tonight first. Then, I have to be honest about Hans. But not tonight, I think sadly.