This is a story about new beginnings.
I was twenty-one, and after graduating early from a faraway university, I'd moved home and taken a job at a coffee shop. In my time off, I was writing as much as I could: $20 here and there for freelance work on church newsletters, product descriptions, whatever people needed. The coffee shop had a neglected Facebook page that the owners asked me to bring back to life.
At home, I was alone most of the time. My dad was a jack of all trades in our small town, so from day to day he worked as a carpenter, a plumber, or even tech support, but his "real" job was as an electrician. He did whatever people needed around town, and mostly made cash for the side jobs. My mom died when I was twelve, and I think being busy helped him keep going.
About once a week, we managed to be in the same place at the same time long enough to eat pizza and catch up. Dad was proud of me for putting together a beginner's version of his multi-gig hustle - in a small town, that's how a lot of people have always worked, not a millennial trend. We compared stories about clients trying to weasel out of paying, and he treated me like an equal even though my bills were for $20 or $40 and his were for $500 or $1,000.
That September, Dad told me my cousin James was going to stay with us for a while. James was 28, and the wheels had come off his life in the last month. He'd been back in school, married for a few years, and living in a cute little house with his wife when she told him she'd met someone else and wanted him to leave. He'd stopped going to class and retreated into himself.
I loved James, who'd been the cool older cousin all my life and was nice to me even when he could have been mean and distant. I wore a locket that had belonged to my mom, and on the same chain I had a flattened penny from when James showed me how to put coins on the train tracks. James had been there for me after she died. I felt really bad about what he'd been through now, and Dad and I had plenty of room.
Right away, it was nice to have another person in the house. James was looking for a job, and sometimes he'd come to the coffee shop to post up and work on applications on his laptop. He stuck to times when I was working so he could walk outside to smoke without having to put all his stuff away. One day, I left the counter for a minute to use the restroom, and when I came back, James was bussing empty cups from a table. The last customers had left them, and we were alone in the shop.
"Oh my gosh, James, you don't have to do that," I said. But he was wearing earbuds and didn't hear me approach. I put one hand on his shoulder and reached out the other one to take the cups. James smelled just faintly of cigarettes, hidden under Altoids and what I assumed was his deodorant, like the ocean and fresh mint and lime. He turned to me and, as he pulled out one earbud, I felt a low vibrational beep pass between us. Whoa, what was that?
The moment passed, and we closed the shop together and walked home.
• • •
After that, James started to help with things during my shifts. Working at the coffee shop could be surprisingly hard on my feet and my joints, and his small gestures meant a lot to me. One day, an unfamiliar customer was watching James pick up some table trash when James looked up at me and smiled.
"Your boyfriend is so sweet to help you out," the customer said, and I blushed.
"He's not, uh, thank you," I stammered. "You're right, he's really sweet." James, once again in his earbuds, was oblivious.
Over the days and weeks, the color returned to James' face and he began to look like himself again after such a grim time in his life. He spent shifts at the shop with me, applying for jobs or playing games or working on whatever projects he might have had. At home, he was always cooking or tinkering with something - my do-it-all handyman dad had plenty of broken gadgets and furniture in need of repair or fresh paint.
And then James got a job. He'd been a welder before, and he found a good union position at a plant outside of town. I was so happy for him, and we celebrated with Dad over a splashy dinner of grilled shrimp and lobster. But that Monday, when James left for work and I walked to the coffee shop alone, I found I missed him. This is fine, I can do my job by myself, I thought. He was never going to stay there, that was never what was going to happen, and why do I care so much? This is silly, I told myself.
James was scheduled for regular day shifts, and I worked mornings or evenings that varied from week to week. Early one afternoon, I came home from work, took a shower, and fell into bed for a heavy nap. When I drifted toward waking, there was an unfamiliar weight next to me and what felt like a hand resting on my side.
"Hey sleepy," James said. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, and his hand on my waist felt electrified.
Outside, the sky was dark. "Wow, what time is it? I've been asleep forever," I said, with fake casual lightness even I could hear was not convincing.
"Move over," James said, and I scooted away from him on the bed. He lay next to me, over the blankets, and brushed hair away from my face.
"My hair must look awful, I fell asleep right after I washed it," I said.
"You look beautiful," he lied, and his hand gently squeezed my side. "I just got home from work, and I picked up stuff to make dinner, but honestly it's a lot nicer here with you."
"James, we shouldn't - I mean, it's . . . " I trailed off. It's what? We shouldn't what?
As my thoughts raced, James angled toward me, caught my eyes with his, and smiled that beautiful smile. I must have smiled back, because I was still smiling when he kissed me. At first, our mouths were closed, and I gently pulled away.
"My breath must be awful," I said. "All that coffee and then a nap?"
James fumbled in his pocket and pulled out an Altoid, which he held up to my lips. I opened my mouth to receive it, and as he placed it on my tongue, I heard a small groan from deep in his throat. I closed my mouth around his fingertip and gently bit down on it.
"Ohhh my god," James groaned. He pulled his finger free and kissed me, finding a rhythm with slower, softer kisses before opening his mouth against mine. My back arched and I felt our stomachs touch through the blankets.
"I hate these, we need to get rid of them, right?" James said, indicating the blankets. He stood up to shut my bedroom door, and I folded the blankets away to one side. James was tall-ish and rangy, wearing gray Dickies and a plaid flannel shirt. I watched as he methodically untied and took off his heavy work boots, which he did by bending at the waist and reaching all the way to the floor.
"You're beautiful," I said. "Take your shirt off."
I watched, rapt, as he partly unbuttoned the plaid shirt then pulled it over his head, revealing a broken-in gray thermal shirt beneath.
"Keep that on," I said, and he laughed. "Are you wearing a belt?"
He lifted the hem of the thermal so I could see the square buckle on a simple brown leather belt, which he unbuckled and pulled out of its loops in one agonizingly slow movement. I caught the briefest glimpse of his navel and a tangle of dark hair below it, and I felt my clit pulse achy waves up into my belly.
James sat on the edge of the bed again, and I sat up too, resting my head on the back of his shoulder and breathing in his familiar smell.
"You always smell incredible," I said. "Like, I don't even mind the smoke, which has never happened before."
He turned to face me, sitting cross-legged, and I inventoried my own clothes: I'd put on a soft tank top and pajama pants after I showered, with just panties beneath. Now, James brushed my back with one hand, finding the bottom hem of my tank top and sliding beneath it. I felt my nipples get hard, and James saw them through the thin material. I stood and let my pajama pants fall away, then I climbed onto James' lap, facing him, with my legs on either side.
He put both hands up the back of my tank top, and they felt warm and strong on the sensitive area at my waist. We kissed again and kept kissing, and he slid his hands around to my breasts, cupping them with his hands and using each index finger and thumb to probe and massage my nipples. With delight, he picked up and examined my necklace with the flattened penny.
My breasts were medium size, enough to be a real handful. I moaned at his touch and managed to say, "Please suck on them." He tugged the top of the tank top down, I lifted my breasts out, and he took one nipple in his mouth and the other between his fingers. Jolts of pleasure shot through me and I let my head roll back.
With his free hand, James touched the gusset of my pink cotton panties, which must have been wet. "Wow, you're ready, huh?" he said, laughing. His fingertips found the waistband and slid beneath it, and I gasped at the touch.
