Page 8 of To No End

“Sure, Cress, come right in. How utterly improper of me to not have offered sooner.”

His remark was bathed in sarcasm, but that was our language. Our friendship had always been one of playful teasing and innuendo. Sometimes our dirty mouths would get the better of our education and standing.

I had been in Gris’s home many times, but trying to figure out where I’d lead him to take my maidenhead made my memory go blank.

Gris grabbed my chin and lifted my face to meet his warm honey eyes. “Cress you’re awfully dressed up today. I didn’t think you knew how to ride a horse in a dress, like a lady. To what do I owe the pleasure of this rare appearance?”

Gris knew better. He knew I wasn’t going to be seen in a dress unless it was some formal occasion.

Normally, I was in fitted trousers, a loose blouse, training attire—anything but gowns. Those were reserved for occasions not of my making. I took his coy words as my opening.

“Well, speaking of pleasure…” I smiled playfully as he released my chin, “I need to call in a favor. Our bargain.”

Gris let out a deep, booming laugh, one that echoed throughout the massive foyer. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, sliding it down a cheek to rest his chin on his fist with a look of pure disbelief. I wanted to crawl under a rock, but I knew I had to keep my composure to pull this off.

“We aren’t even fifty yet, and you’re calling in that favor? Didn’t we agree on one hundred?”

I tried to keep my annoyance at bay, “Semantics.”

He chuckled again and began to usher me to the parlor. I always enjoyed the casual, relaxed feel of Gris’s home over theostentatious display of wealth that I grew up in. It was inviting. As we walked, he spoke.

He tried to give the appearance of taking me seriously, “No, Cress, it’s not semantics. I’m not interested in marrying anyone just yet, and we agreed we were each other’s backup plan.”

I followed him closely, doing my best to sway my hips more than I should and present as gracefully as I could muster.

“I actually don’t need the marriage part…” I trailed off, trying not to acknowledge the blushing cheeks that were now betraying me.

He grabbed a silver decanter from the bar and began to pour some golden-brown liquid into a glass.

“Oh, we’re definitely going to need drinks for this conversation.”

“But it’s only the afternoon,” I resisted, as he handed me the first glass and began to pour himself his own.

“Cress, you show up unexpectedly trying to call in a bargain not due for another seventy-five years and are now, what…asking me to bed you?” He lifted his glass and clinked it against mine.

That’s what I loved about Gris. Like me, he never minced words. Always to the point. I looked at the tempting liquid idling in the glass and threw back a giant swig, trying not to wince at the awful taste.

“Exactly! I knew I could count on you,” I exclaimed.

Gris leaned against the wall with folded arms and sipped casually from his drink. I tried not to look like I was staring, but instead mentally acknowledged all of his best features in my mind, trying to harness any attraction that I had ever felt for him buried beneath layers of friendship.

The silence between us seemed to last forever, and he just kept eyeing me. “You’re not kidding, are you?” he said softly.

I shook my head in admission while taking another sip. A little liquid courage, as I knew what he was going to ask next.

“But why now? Why me? Why here?”

I took a deep breath and once more found myself putting on the mask of lies.

“I’ve been selected to join a merchant and Seafarers as their translator. I’m leaving very soon, and I’m going to be gone…for a very long time…” My words trailed off as I bit down on the sad truth underneath that last part.

His features gradually turned from amusement to concern. The truth settled into his rigid jawline and furrowed in his dark brow. I could tell he was realizing that meant he, too, wouldn’t be seeing me anytime soon.

And at the bottom of all this, that’s what we were. The greatest of friends who in the silliness of our youth made an oath, a bargain to one another that if by our one hundredth name day, neither of us were betrothed, had found our true mates or someone to love, we’d settle on each other. Maybe in one hundred years’ time, we’d stop ignoring that minor attraction that treaded below the surface of our friendship and often erupted as flirtatious banter, sometimes jealousy, and quickly reconciled back to friendship.

“Surely, you’d rather wait? You have plenty of time. Find someone you actually care for…that way.” His voice became unsteady as he finished the sentence, his words unsettling me, because only I knew just how long a time it would be.

“No, I do not want to wait any longer.” I replied rigidly. “Please don’t make me beg, Gris! Would you really have me lose my maidenhead to some grimy Seafarer aboard a ship with no privacy?”

---