Life-Long Friends

"Oh fuck." She murmured, feeling the pounding in her head. She made an attempt to open her eyes, but the bright light made that an almost impossible venture.

"I second that." The voice came from her right, making her jump a little. She thought hard. Pulling all the clues together was painful. Who did she leave with? Why did that voice sound familiar?

"Umm... Matt?" He was staying with her, right? On the couch though. He came out Friday night and he slept on the couch and she complained about the fact that he didn't make up the couch in the morning. She made him fold up the bedding and the pull-out bed.

"Is that what my name is?" He barely whispered after the long pause. Naomi carefully turned her head, taking a deep breath. Her stomach churned. She cracked one eye halfway open. Just to check.

"Jeez, at least I remember my name." It was Matt. He was facing away from her, but she's known the guy for fifteen years, she recognized him by the back of his head at this point, even painfully hungover.

"Oh yeah? What is it?" He carefully turned his head toward her.

"Ha! Why the fuck are you in my bed, Matt?" He was quiet, his eyes still closed.

"I think pulling out the sofa and putting on sheets was too much work." He seemed to be guessing. But it made sense. There were so many shots. "Why are you not wearing a shirt?" He poked at her shoulder. She felt his finger touch her bare skin.

"Why are you not wearing a shirt?" She countered instantly, out of habit. She and Matt had a buddy relationship. One filled with teasing and mocking and at times there was wrestling. Yes, actual wrestling, entirely non-sexual. Something about that thought suddenly jogged her memory and a knot formed in her stomach. Her stomach, that was bare under the covers. She felt her breathing get faster.

"Matt."

"That's me. Or so I hear."

"Are you entirely naked?" There was a pause.

"Umm... I think I have socks on." He replied finally. She forced herself to open her eyes. His were open, wide, and intensely grey, staring back at her. "Shit, Naomi, I'm so sorry."

It was flooding back to her, in bits and pieces. Stumbling into the apartment, Matt complaining about the couch, she offered for him to crash with her. She offered it. She took off her dress. She just whipped it off over her head, not even thinking of him being in the room, of him being a guy. And he watched. And said something similar to what just came out of his mouth.

"Shit, Naomi, you have a hot little body." It surprised her. Even though she was completely plastered it still struck her that he actually thought that. Curvy, pleasantly plump, round, were the usual descriptors of how she looked. Hot and little were never associated with her.

She was in her bra and panties, trying to remember what she had done with her pajamas that morning. She didn't feel embarrassed or self-conscious in front of Matt and his comment actually gave her a bit of an ego boost, but she had every intention of finding her pajamas and putting them on.

"Thanks." She mumbled, pulling the comforter open and checking for the shorts and t-shirt she wore to bed underneath her pillow. Everything was swimming and spinning around her and looking down just made it worse. Matt stood there staring at her.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for my pajamas." She told him.

He came closer to her then, really close, right in front of her, and he tipped her face up to his with both hands on her jaw, and he kissed her. And she seemed to dissolve in that kiss. She put her hands up on his chest and he moved his arms down to envelop her.

They definitely had sex. No, they fucked. It was hard and fast and dirty. He said really filthy things to her and she reciprocated. Some details were floating up, but others were still fuzzy. It was like a movie scene where things sped up into fast motion and blurred and then slowed down, with all the actions and sensations crisp and intense. The party scene in Garden State came to mind, where in a drunken and drugged haze, half-dressed bodies and people mashing together sped around Zach Braff's character. She remembered telling Matt to bite her. Fuck.

She breathed out. They were still staring at each other. She lifted the comforter and peeked under, at her breasts. Obviously, she'd already figured out that she was naked under there; now she had to check the severity of the bite marks and hickeys that Matt left on her.

"I'm sorry." He repeated again. The look on his face was panicked now. It was all coming back to him too.

"Don't tell the guys about this. Please." She closed her eyes, draping an arm over them. "I'm such a fucking slut! It's like, I can't keep my pants on with you guys. What the fuck is wrong with me?! I just keep... like I'm making some kind of rounds or something!"

"Hey, you're not a slut, Naomi, don't even think that." It looked like he wanted to reach out and comfort her for a moment, but it was weird because they were both naked under the covers. He rested a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it gently. "You've never even had sex with anyone outside of a serious relationship. There have been what, like three guys? Ever?" She hadn't been shy to discuss her sex life with Matt in the past.

"Four. Now." Her head was pounding. The place where Matt's hand rested on her shoulder felt like burning.

"Yeah, between the two of us, I'm definitely the slut." He had a point. Matt was kind of a player. Not like 'different girl every weekend' sort of thing or 'never had a serious relationship' sort of thing, but... there have been a lot of girls. Everything from random sex at parties, barely knowing her name, to serious relationships that lasted over a year. And every incremental level in between. His level of experience intimidated her. Matt has been around and she hasn't and he'd probably get bored with what she had to offer fairly quickly. But that wasn't why she called herself a slut.

"I made out with Adam when I was thirteen. I've done almost everything with Seth our senior year. And now this."

"Well... Schmidt's married and I hear that Jon's in a serious relationship living out in Cali, so I don't think you're gonna get to the other two." Matt joked. She swung blindly and hit him somewhere around the ear. "Ow, shit, that actually hurt." He pulled his hand away from her shoulder to rub his ear. "You seem to be into a little bit of pain."

"Can we not talk about this? I am fucking mortified, I've never in my life done anything like that and you were there for it and you're never gonna let me live it down." Matt was silent for a long moment.

"I thought it was amazing." He finally said, in a quiet voice.

It was amazing, what she could remember of it. It certainly felt incredible. But it didn't change the fact that this was a horrible mistake. That fucking a life-long friend was wrong. That she didn't want their other friends to know about this. She's heard Matt talk about fucking girls before, she's been the one he talked to about them, in way more detail than she needed to hear. And now she felt like a hypocrite because she didn't want this discussed with any of their mutual friends.

They had a tight group of friends when they were kids. They all lived within the same two blocks in their suburban development and hung out together constantly, riding their bikes, skateboards, playing basketball in their driveways. Aside from Seth's little sister who frequently tagged along, Naomi was the only girl. It didn't seem to matter. She was part of the gang. When she and Adam discreetly made out a handful of times in eighth grade, it didn't change things. The other guys probably knew, but no one talked about it. But with Seth, their senior year in high school, it was a full-blown relationship. He put his arm around her, held her hand, kissed her in front of other guys. They hadn't had sex of any sort, but they were a couple. As much as she liked Seth, she kinda hated that she became 'Seth's girl' during that time and it stuck.

They all went away to college, splitting up around the Northeast. The relationship between Seth and Naomi didn't survive their freshman year apart. Naomi and Matt both went to college in New York City, while Seth ended up in Ithaca, NY. She was at NYU and Matt was at Fordham. They went out to parties and bars together, they knew each other's college friends, he'd held her hair back while she puked into a garbage can on a street corner, and they had never, ever before in their lives had a drunken hookup. She'd sat on his lap in crowded subway cars when there were no other seats available, he routinely finished off her food when they went out to eat together, he had even physically shoved a guy once who was coming on to her too strong at the bar. But they were buddies. He went back to New Jersey after college and she stayed in New York, getting a job and an apartment in Brooklyn. They drove back and forth to visit for the weekend, taking turns every month or so. They've slept on each other's couches. For three years now they had their own apartments and slept on each other's couches and got drunk together and never hooked up! Why did it happen now?

"It was amazing. You definitely know what you're doing with that cock." Matt laughed. "But please, can we just... not discuss it? Just leave it as a stupid, drunk mistake? Pretend it was just some random stranger from the bar and not us?"

"Ok," he sounded a bit disappointed. "Naomi, I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have started anything."

They lay there for a while longer without saying a word. Everything was still spinning, her mouth tasted horrendous and that brought her thoughts back to what she had done with her mouth. She groaned. How do you look at a friend's face ever again after you've had his cock down your throat? The geographical distance will probably be a good thing, she decided. The fact that Matt lived nearly two hours away would definitely help with not having to constantly think about what happened between them. They talked on the phone and over Instant Messenger all the time. He was one of her closest friends.

"I'm sorry that I'm still here, that I'm not getting out of your bed, but I feel like I am going to hurl if I move," Matt told her after a long stretch of silence.

"It's ok. I'm in the same boat."

"I promise I won't try anything," he assured her.

"If you feel as terrible as I do, I don't think you could, even if you wanted to." She had her eyes closed again, things were less spinny this way. She rolled away from Matt, onto her left side, her stomach feeling more settled this way.

"My dick has its own ideas. It doesn't care that I can't lift my head off the pillow, it's still fucking hard." Matt confessed.

Great. Now she was thinking about Matt's dick again. She's never had any prior thoughts about it, she never wondered what he was packing in there. But now that she knew, was she going to be able to ignore that knowledge when looking at him? When she had her mouth on him, she couldn't reach down to the root of his cock, even as she felt him at the back of her throat. The few guys that she'd been with, have always told her she was really excellent at blow jobs, she was able to take them deep, without gagging, and felt pretty proud of her skills. It hadn't been that difficult of a task with the other guys though. Stop thinking about Matt's penis!

She wasn't sure how long they continued to lay there silently in her bed before she couldn't contain her urge to pee anymore and had to get up. She took it slow, carefully lifting up and swinging her legs over the side and taking small steps into the bathroom. Her head still throbbed and she felt dizzy, but she didn't feel so nauseous that she'd throw up. She pulled on her bathrobe that hung on the back of her bathroom door and proceeded into the kitchen. Tiny steps, shuffling. She set the coffee to brew and stood at the sink filling her glass with water and drinking it down, slowly and steadily. She took some Tylenol with her second glass of water. The coffee was almost ready when she heard Matt shut the bathroom door and moments later the sound of him puking. He was in there for a good while. Naomi wondered whether this was a sign that she could hold her alcohol better than he could? Did they drink the same amount? Was it that all the extra fat on her body somehow helped her tolerance, while Matt, being all lean and lanky didn't have enough fat to absorb it? This was a first though, there were plenty of other times when she was much sicker than Matt.

When he finally came out into the kitchen, wearing his jeans and last night's t-shirt, he looked almost chipper. She was halfway done with her first cup of coffee when he came over to pour himself some.

"Well, I feel a lot better now," Matt announced. He was actually smiling. And somehow he looked good. His hair attractively messy, his dimples showing, the thin t-shirt draped his pecs perfectly. He reminded her of a young Tom Cavanagh, with those piercing blue-grey eyes. He didn't look this good yesterday.

"Oh good. I'm glad." He seemed to look her up and down and she felt uncomfortable. She knew that her curly, frizz-prone hair must have been a complete mess right now and she wore an oversized, fluffy robe, which may have been a good thing because it hid her body. But he looked at her as if he could see right through it. "Stop that," she told him. He shook his head out, trying to wipe the smile from his face.

"I'm sorry. I just don't know how I ignored, for so many years that... you're incredibly attractive and now I just can't unsee it, Naomi. I promise I will rein it in." She rolled her eyes at him.

"Please do." She finished her coffee and set the mug down. "I'm gonna go take a shower. You stay here." She pointed a finger at him, dead serious. He nodded, just as serious in response. No dimples.

Matt sat in her kitchen eating buttered toast when she came out of her room. She put on fresh sweatpants and a t-shirt, along with a bra, just to dissuade any dirty thoughts that might occur to him if she had nipples showing. Her hair was wrapped up in a towel. She didn't feel altogether great, but a definite improvement to earlier that morning.

"I threw in some toast for you when I heard you turn off the shower," Matt told her.

"Oh, great. Thanks." She went to the toaster oven to retrieve it.

"Did you leave any hot water for me?" He asked.

"Eh, I'd give it a little while before trying." She admitted. She took a good while in there, trying to soak all the sore muscles. Her entire body was enveloped in a dull ache. They ate, then sat on the sofa, catching up on some shows they both watched on the DVR. Things seemed to be getting back to normal. Matt took his shower and got dressed and then packed up his overnight bag.

He left around five. Their goodbye hug seemed extra awkward this time, feeling him against herself was strange. Matt was over a foot taller than her and despite how slim he was, it still always felt like he could wrap her up so entirely in his arms. And now his hug seemed to have a level of intimacy in it that she never felt before. She was now keenly aware of how her breasts pressed up against him. And when she pulled away from him, she wondered whether he was as aware of them as she was, or whether he'd been thinking about where his crotch touched her.

*****

He had two full hours on the drive home to analyze to bits what happened that weekend. He had been completely blown away last night when Naomi whipped off her dress. It was almost a sobering moment. The light was low in her bedroom, a lamp on her dresser by the door. She had this pink dress on with a scoop neck and fluttery sleeves that was almost down to her knees and it had been cinched with a wide belt at her waist. It was an attractive dress, but not especially revealing or sexy. It wasn't anything that he paid attention to at all until she grabbed the hem and pulled it up over her head. Beneath the dress, Naomi was all smooth, soft curves. His eyes traveled up her legs first as her hem lifted, revealing the beautiful, round thighs, up to an ample ass covered by a pair of high cut cotton panties that curved enticingly over her flared hips. Her shoulders were pulled back and when she turned towards him, looking for her pajamas, she had the most amazing set of breasts sitting inside a sexy, red, lace bra. They were generous and full and came together to form a perfect cleavage. His cock was already stirring to life, expanding rapidly inside his jeans. Her dark curls bounced around her shoulder with her as she turned and bent and Matt didn't know what to do with himself. His childhood friend was a gorgeous, sexy, luscious woman and he couldn't control his urge to kiss her and touch her. Everywhere.

She wasn't normally a shy person. She was a musician, a performer. Naomi was super talented. She was teaching high school music now, but she was also a multi-instrumentalist and had an amazing voice. She was used to being in front of an audience. She played in a band in college and he had gone to a few of her gigs. It was kind of a folk-sounding thing, playing covers of Joni Mitchell, Ani DiFranco, Indigo Girls, and the like. But Matt was also aware of the fact that she didn't have as much confidence with men as she did with performing. She always seemed surprised when a guy flirted with her, when someone tried to pick her up at the bar. And she never left with any of them.

"I don't think that I'm entirely unattractive, but it's just... most guys aren't into chubby girls." She told him before. He didn't know how to respond to that.

"There are plenty of guys who are into what you've got there. You've had boyfriends before, there are guys checking you out when we go out all the time." He had replied to her.

This insecurity of hers was what made that night even more surprising. He didn't expect her to be so comfortable with taking off her clothes. He was waiting for her to realize that she was nearly naked in front of him and cover herself up, but she did not. And he definitely didn't expect her to be so vocal in bed, to tell him what she liked, to talk dirty, to scream. He hadn't been with that many girls who were as uninhibited as Naomi. It was a rare occurrence. Sex with Naomi has been an amazing, unbelievable surprise.

He was also surprised by how she reacted in the morning. He was well aware of the fact that they might both think it was a mistake in the light of day, but he wasn't prepared for the fact that she wanted to forget about it and not talk about it at all. He definitely saw her differently in the morning. She was more. It was hard to describe, but the word more seemed to encapsulate it. She seemed more confident, more in control, more grown-up, more sexy, more beautiful.

He was in no shape to make another move that morning. Throwing up in her bathroom definitely wasn't sexy. And then she was serious about not repeating their indiscretion. She's never had a one-night stand before, he was quite certain of it. That wasn't Naomi. She was a relationship girl. She confirmed that morning that he was the fourth guy she'd ever had sex with and he'd met the other three - they had all been long-term boyfriends. But she was so cool and calm about the fact that this between them wasn't the start of anything. He analyzed why it felt off to him on his drive home, why he felt disappointed.

It was just because the sex was so excellent, he decided, when pulling into his spot behind the building he lived in. It was definitely among his all-time top five sexual experiences and he had a good amount to compare to. That's what it was, he made up his mind.

It didn't turn out to be super weird afterward. They were already hanging out, watching TV together that same day. The following day, Naomi instant messaged him about something inconsequential, as they frequently did. And later in the week, they were watching Scrubs together while on the phone. A month or so later, she was back in his apartment, in her sweatpants and an old, baggy t-shirt, watching TV with him, eating chicken parm that she cooked for them both, and sleeping on the sofa. Things were as they always were, easy, comfortable, and friendly. Soon after her visit, she started seeing Richard.