Notes: Written for seashadows' prompt over at the mark_eduardo ficathon: "Mark/Eduardo, always-a-girl!Eduardo. Mark lusts over his coolly elegant best friend, and fantasizes about what he's going to do once he gets her out of those button-down shirts and pencil skirts. And then does it." Guys, I don't even know.
Disclaimer: So, so not mine, in any way, at all.
Brazil has the highest per capita plastic surgery rate in the world.
This is what goes through Mark’s mind every time he looks at Edi. Yes, she’s only 19, and yes, she’s spent most of her life in Miami, but she takes vacations. She’s definitely spent six to eight consecutive weeks in Rio. That’s more than enough time to get and recover from plastic surgery. The alternative is that she’s always looked this good, that people can actually look this good naturally, and the thing is, Mark can’t really deal with that.
Edi’s legs are long. Edi’s breasts are proportionate. Edi’s skin is the color of a perfectly made latte and her black hair crashes onto her shoulders like ocean waves. (Sometimes when Mark thinks about Edi he finds his brain lapsing into metaphor. This usually ends with abortive attempts at poetry and successful attempts at drinking.) Edi’s smile is toothy, and Edi dresses like the archetypal sexy librarian: perfectly-fitted pencil skirts (Mark only knows this because he heard someone complimenting her on them, otherwise he’d just call them “the tight not-slutty ones”), pinstriped button-downs with teasingly undone collars, and towering heels. In her heels Edi is tall enough to look over the top of Mark’s head. Mark’s relatively sure he’s not supposed to find that sexy, but since Edi could make bubonic plague sexy, he doesn’t really have a choice.
She is friendly and giving and maybe a little bit gullible. Dustin and Chris don’t think he’s fucking her because they have seen her and they have seen him and they are not stupid. Mark thinks this is somewhat ridiculous, since he actually met Edi because Chris was trying to fuck her and Chris isn’t that much better looking than Mark. When he brings this up, Chris reminds him that he was unsuccessful. Mark knows this is because Edi had heard Chris was bad in bed, not because she wasn’t attracted to him, but he is saving this information to embarrass Chris with at an opportune time. Mark is nothing if not a skilful manager of information.
But now he’s known Edi for two weeks, and this is the third time this week she’s asked him to hang out just the two of them, and Mark is starting to lose his cool. The thing is, if she were a guy he’d be fine. He’s pretty sure it’s easier to come on to a guy than to a girl; anyway, there’s gotta be less to worry about. But there’s all kinds of rules with girls. You can’t say certain things or they’ll throw beverages in your face, and you can’t not say other things or they’ll set your bed on fire, and you certainly can’t touch them without their go-ahead or they’ll hit you and probably get some of their friends to hit you again. (Mark is 18, but the only woman he’s ever touched is Peggy Mason in the fourth grade when they kissed on a dare, so most of what he knows about women he’s learned from romantic comedies his mother likes.) The point is that there are rules, and the consequences for not following them seem pretty dire, so when Edi started asking him to hang out Mark gave it some thought and decided that trying to follow the rules for once might not be the worst thing in the world.
All of this is running through his head while he drinks his fourth beer of the night and sits across from Edi and tries not to ogle her calf. She’s sitting on the edge of his bed with her legs crossed at the knee and despite his relative certainty that he has neither a foot fetish nor a shoe fetish, Mark can’t stop staring at the black leather pump (he is pretty sure it’s a pump) at the end of her leg. Between trying to remember the name of her shoe and trying to figure out why he might want to put his penis in it, Mark is not at the top of his already-wanting conversational game, and he only tunes back in when he hears Edi say, for what he’s pretty sure is the third time, “Mark.”
His eyes shoot up to her face, and oh God. Bad idea. Eyes. He knew drinking with her could only end in disaster. “Edi.”
Her arms are crossed under her oh jesus breasts, and she grins. “You’re not even in this room, man.” She stands up, takes two clickclackclickclack steps towards him, and his room is pretty small so that brings her a lot closer, and now his eyes are level with her look the fuck up, Zuckerberg. He manages to look up at her face, and that’s pretty dangerous, but not nearly as dangerous as staring at her. Lady. Business. FACE.
“Clearly I’m in this room,” he manages. “You’re touching me.” Edi’s fingers had wrapped around his beer while he tried to figure out what part of her he could look at without combusting, and as he says this she takes it from him and swallows a sip.
Her throat works. Mark swallows. Spontaneous combustion is becoming a real possibility.
He takes a breath, and he really is intending to say anything other than what comes out of his mouth. What he actually says is: “The problem is you’re maybe the best-looking woman I’ve ever seen in real life, which doesn’t make being around you the easiest thing in the world.”
Well. That wasn’t supposed to happen. That just breaks every rule, and as Mark knows, breaking woman rules has consequences. He flinches and closes his eyes, waiting to get a faceful of his own beer.
When nothing happens, he opens his left eye, and is astonished to see Edi shaking with silent laughter. He opens the other eye in utter confusion, and after a moment she gasps out, “You’re an idiot.” And then she’s stepping closer, and now she’s pushing Mark’s knees together and swinging her left leg over so she’s actually straddling him which means her skirt is holy shit holy shit holy shit, and her hands are linked behind his head, and if his blood was rushing to his dick any faster he’d definitely be having a stroke, and he doesn’t know where to put his hands so they’re sort of hovering in mid-air. But Edi just keeps grinning that million-dollar smile, and she says, “Why do you think I’ve been asking you to hang out all week?”
Despite the fact that she is sitting on his lap within inches of his cock Mark is still surprised when she kisses him. He doesn’t know if he’s doing it right, but he kisses back, and her increasing enthusiasm is enough indication for him to match it with his own. After a moment, she pulls away, still smiling, and says, “You’ve never done this before, yeah?”
Mark doesn’t ask how she knows. “No,” he says. “I have not.”
Edi nods. “That’s fine. I’m happy to lead the way.”
After that it’s all one increasingly implausible (to Mark’s overly prosaic mind) moment after another: Edi guiding his right hand to her breast and moaning as he twists a nipple; Edi pressing his fingers to her panties, bucking against the hand she’s holding there, while he notes that girls really do get wet, that’s not just a porn lie; Edi pushing him onto his back on the bed and sinking her mouth onto his dick (he’s pretty sure, from the sounds she’s making around him, that she’s fingering herself while she sucks him); his incredibly fast first orgasm with another person, which she swallows; Edi guiding two of his fingers into her (she is so warm and so wet and how is this his life) and showing him how to move while she rubs her clit (he thinks) and moans; feeling her clench repeatedly around him and seeing her collapse next to him, looking more like a movie star than ever.
Things were good, then, there were weeks and months of good. Weeks of first times tumbling over each other, each seemingly more eager than the last to bring on the one that followed: first time going down on a girl, first time having his ass fingered (followed very quickly by first time coming so hard he slams his head against the wall and leaves a dent), the all-important First Time. Edi is kind and gentle and respectful and seems entirely happy to hang out and have sex and not worry about labels, and Mark thinks she’s maybe the best thing that’s ever happened to him. It’s not until over a year later, when Chris gets dumped by Erica and drunkenly gives Mark the idea for Facemash, which leads to Facebook and Mark having to ask Edi for the start-up capital, that it ever occurs to him that there could be something else in his life.