2. Friends

"Just 'friends'?"

They lay there under late night darkness, skin bare; clammy to touch. Breaths slowly began to recover from the passions that had just ensued. His question prompted a guilty, muted laugh to leave her, followed by a tiny caught-out bite of her lip.

"What was I meant to say?" came the exasperation from Rachel.

"I don't know, something other than that."

He wrapped his hand across her waist, pulling her closer. For years he had dreamed of this.

"Oh god…," she whispered, her smile settling for a more muted expression. "It's not funny though. We have to come clean at some point."

"He knows," Eddie cautiously broke the news. "He's not stupid."

"We can't be sure."

"Rach, a sixteen year old plucked up the courage to ask you - in so many words - what the situation was. And not just any teenager, but Phil."

"I get it," Rachel sighed, slicing a few stray hairs off her face; a gradual rub of the eyes, dissatisfied and almost cringing at the thought. Rachel knew Eddie was right. She had been backed into a metaphorical corner. For someone who desperately need to remain control, it was a position she hated to be in. As secretive as they had been, she knew their efforts weren't enough. "So what do I - we - say?" Rachel corrected, teasingly, turning to face him.

"Hey," Eddie gave a muffled laugh; a low hum. "That's nothing to do with me."

"I think you might find that this is very much about you."

"Ok, well…" he began, contemplating his thoughts. "You give him a redacted version of the truth."

"Which is?"

Eddie paused thoughtfully, his hand abandoning the comfort of the shallow dip of her waist to tease her hair between his fingers. This wasn't only a question of logistics but of relationship status. Deep in her eyes, under darkness, were the burning thoughts of the woman he loved, longing for the right answer.

"Whatever you want it to be."

He saw her ponder his proposition, mulling over the question like it was a difficult choice to make. Rachel knew, deep down, what she wanted. Him.

"I think…" Rachel gently broke the silence. "That this is definitely something."

"Only something?" He quizzed, playfully. His eyebrows raise at the seeming stupidity of her question. The weight of his palm threaded to the ends of her hair; his lips now back where they were shortly prior, gently placing a slow, longing pressure to her neck. The smell of her perfume caught him; rich, temping. He was infatuated, besotted by every inch of her being.

She pursed her lips at his tease; a coy smile blessed her features. There was no way she could voice how she truly felt - words weren't enough.

"If we do this, we need to do it properly," she began, inoffensively pushing him off and drawing his gaze back to her. This was her means of being serious. "We can't make things more confusing for Phil." He was enchanted by her answer, in mild disbelief that she was really offering him the chance of something more official. "So no changing our minds," she whispered, her hand now toying with the stubble of his jawline.

His hand lay firm in the subtle curve of her back, keeping her close. "Oh, there is no chance of that happening."

To his answer, relief, love and a degree of lust washed over her; the innocent break of her lips returned, her happiness was clear. There were no words - only her lips could meet with his again. What started as a mild, unassuming and tender reconnection soon sparked and ignited once more. Quickly it became deep, passionate again; she somewhat pinned under his bodyweight, he forever fixated with the taste of her.

In the distance, a key clunked the lock in the door. Eddie reluctantly broke away, narrowing his eyes quizzically at Rachel. She gave a murmured groan, a deep sigh. Reality began to bite, and hard.

"It's Phil," she whispered. "I don't know why he's back."

"Well, no time like the present," Eddie quipped, falling back into his rightful side of the bed, only to be met with a playful slap from Rachel. Now was certainly not the time.

"Shut up."