CHAPTER 31
Jesse
Knocking on the doorframe of Pete’s old childhood bedroom in my parents’ house, I rap softly so as not to startle Cam. Turning around between the stacks of boxes surrounding him, he gives me a bright smile.
Disgustingly happy people are so disgusting.
“Hey, Jesse. What’s up?”
“Um, mind if I stow this in your closet?” I ask, holding up my Pinocchio costume.
I’ve been so busy spending time with Murph since we got back from the cruise that I never bothered to finish unpacking everything. Busy? Happy? Distracted? Sorely ignorant of what was really happening between us? Whatever.
“I don’t feel like dealing with the attic ladder right now,” I explain.
“Yeah. Sure. Go ahead. I’ve got everything out of there already. Just folding up a few things, and then I think everything is ready to haul to our new place.”
Does he have to look like he’s glowing the way he talks about moving in with my brother? So annoying. I mean, if he wants to buy a house with the crankiest Carver brother, more power to him. I’m happy for him.
Side-stepping packages, I make my way to the closet. Hanging the costume on the rod, I’m reluctant to let it go. Murph kept eyeing me like I was an ice cream cone he wanted to lick from head to toe when I wore it. Why I didn’t realize until last night that all those looks held something else makes me feel like the biggest fool in three counties.
I want… to hold his hand. Of course, I do. Laying in my bed last night, I put every suggestion he flung at me on trial. I ran through every scenario. Each time I did, I got that strange, fluttering panic in my belly and my chest that used to freak me out. The difference between now and all those times before is that before I wasn’t supposed to think about those things. I was in the friend-zone where I thought I belonged.
Now… I can.
And now that I can, they’re all I think about. The panic isn’t the panic of ruining our friendship and sexual exploration venture by appearing too clingy. It’s an exciting panic, like when you’re at the top of a rollercoaster and you know it’s going to scare the shit out of you, but you’re still excited because it’ll feel great once you take the freefall.
I… love Murph.
Love him.
I’m in love with him. With my best friend.
There’s that giddy rush of scariness again, making me shiver. Best Friend doesn’t seem like an adequate title anymore. He’s more than that. I think he always has been. I’m not saying I entertained the idea of getting naked with him before, but I think I’ve always felt like our connection was more special than something called friendship.
And now… he won’t talk to me again, so this is fantastic. Is it a bearded-person thing? Hold your feelings in and then explode and hibernate?
Gosh, I’m in love with an impossible, unpredictable ABBA fan who just happens to be a dude. I have to laugh despite the pain of uncertainty.
Sighing, I relinquish my hold on Pinocchio and shut the closet door. On the dresser, that ugly little rainbow pot Miranda gave Pete for his birthday last year catches my eye. I’m surprised he still has the thing for how much he went on about its asymmetrical shape bothering him.
“Oh, um, I’ll get that,” Cam offers, looking anxious as he takes it from me.
Geesh. Did he think I was going to break it? Man, he’s really got it bad for my brother if he’s protective over his knickknacks.
Watching him stroke it lovingly before he sets it on a nest of bubble wrap in an open box has me feeling all kinds of envious. For some reason, it reminds me of that morning Murph rolled on top of me on the cruise and smacked my forehead injury. He wasn’t just worried about me being sandwiched by the grandpas. He was jealous. I’m such an idiot.
And what did I do? I used him like a sex toy for the last month and a half.
I want an ugly pot. I want a… boyfriend who wants to protect my pot just because it’s mine. And I want Murph to be the protector of my pot.
Why did he imply I’d not want to tell my family? I thought avoiding him during Thanksgiving was a way to protect his privacy. I thought that’s what he wanted. I can tell them. I mean, of course I can, now that my dumbass realizes I’ve fallen from the Murph tree and hit every branch on the way down. Pete did it, and no one died.
Speaking of which, I still don’t understand how Pete managed to snag another human being, let alone one as nice as Cam. My brother is… more emotionally complicated than Murph. But if Pete can do it, surely, I can find a way to reassure Murph that weeks of orgasms meant more to me than he realizes.
“I’m in love with Murph,” I blurt.
Cam’s brows hike, but then his expression turns curious. “Um… your best friend, Murph?”
“Yeah,” I practically wheeze, still high on the relief over saying it aloud.
“Oh. Well, congratulations.”
His smile is bright and genuine, making me blush over how stupidly giddy I feel. Shifting, he looks uncertain about what to do next after my verbal diarrhea.
Right. That was a bit out of the blue.
“There’s, uh, one problem, though. We’ve kind of just been messing around,” I explain, rubbing at the back of my neck, divulging our activities. It’s not that I’m embarrassed, it just feels a bit traitorous toward Murph. Yet, if he was serious about the hand-holding, and telling my family, and growing old together, then they’d kind of figure all that out, so I forge ahead. “And… well, I thought we were just messing around. He was helping me figure things out since I’ve never… done anything with a guy before, but then come to find out, he loves me.”
A puff of laughter leaves my lips, getting to admit that aloud. It feels like pinning a badge to my chest.
Mine. Murph’s love is mine.
Man, if I thought I was needy before, knowing that now is going to make me a total stage-five clinger like Philip. He’s got to talk this out with me. I can’t be a clinger with nothing to cling to. I’ll perish.
“Like really loves me,” I elaborate. “And when he told me, we kind of had a fight because he’s got, like, grizzly bear feelings—he hoards them all to himself and then explodes like roar! and then stomps back to his cave.” I gesture with my hands, so Cam understands the level of difficulty I’m dealing with here. “So, I didn’t even get a second to process or say anything.”
I stop to suck in a breath. Cam’s eyes are about as wide as saucers.
“Wow,” he mutters.
“Right?” I laugh. Good. He gets it.
“And… you processed then, I take it?” he ventures.
“Yeah, but…”
“But Murph doesn’t know how you feel?”
“No. And I don’t know how to tell him. Or, I mean, of course I can just tell him, but he’s… he’s…”
“A grizzly bear?”
“Exactly! A big, stubborn, sexy, aggravating, three-moled-ass grizzly bear,” I grumble, rubbing my fists into my eyes. “So, I doubt he’ll believe me or listen to what I have to say. I don’t know what to do.”
Did he just laugh? Dropping my hands, I watch him fold his arms across his chest, smiling sweetly at me, shaking his head.
“I’m glad you find this so amusing. Geez, I used to like you!”
“I’m not laughing at you, Jesse. Believe me. It just reminds me of how things were with me and Pete when we first got together. People don’t communicate when they’re falling for each other. I think it’s some kind of rule, to be honest. Even when they think they’re communicating, they don’t do it right. It’s inevitable.”
“Okay, news flash. I basically just told you that. Not helpful. How do I fix it? How did you and my stick-up-his-ass brother work your stuff out?”
Chuckling again, his ears go red. Ew. If his is some sappy story about sexual activity, that’s useless to me. Murph and I have already done the sex. The sex wasn’t the issue. I want his heart too, not his big, luscious ass. Okay… fine. I still want his ass.
“Your brother made a few grand gestures, and… they won me over.” He shrugs like that was the obvious answer.
“Gestures? What kind of gestures?”
“It doesn’t matter what kind of gesture it is. It’s more about making sure it’s a situation where the other person has to listen and that you’re completely open and vulnerable about how you feel.”
Open. Vulnerable. I can do that. I will. I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes.
Getting Murph in a situation where he has to listen to me, though? That part is a little more difficult.
“Why are you in my room?” Pete grumbles from the doorway.
“It’s not your room anymore,” I counter. Why is he always so mean? And why do I suddenly not care about screwing with him? It’s always brought me so much joy. “Mom said I could turn it into a gym. I was just seeing how well the carpet soaks up sweat,” I explain.
His nostrils flare, and to my surprise… nope. I feel nothing.
Wow. I don’t even care about annoying my brother anymore. It’s literally the last thing on my priority list. I am absolutely in love with Murphy Malone.
Slapping Cam on the shoulder, I make my way to the door. “Thanks Cam. Good luck with the new house.”
“Good luck to you, too.”
I practically race to my old room. I do need luck. I need all the powers of the universe to make the man I’m calling listen to me.
Murph finally answers after three painfully agonizing rings. “Hello?”
“Hey! Can we… talk?”
There’s a pause. Why is he pausing? Not good.
“I’m going out of town for a while.”
“Seattle?” It’s mildly embarrassing how I practically shriek that word like it means murder. Basically, it does. It would murder my heart if he went to Seattle.
“No. I’m going to stay with my sister for the winter.”
The winter? As in an entire season of the year?
Ugh. Why am I not even surprised? He’s such a… such a… freaking runner-awayer.
“Murph, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I wish you’d told me.”
“There was never a reason to. I’m sorry I… for whatever it was we did. I should have known better.”
“No! I don’t regret any of it.” He needs to know that. This isn’t going how I planned, though. I’m not getting into this over the phone with him. “Look, can we just talk… in person, before you leave?”
“Jesse,” he says, a sigh flooding over the line. “Everything’s fine. Okay? I promise. I’ll call you when I get to my sister’s.”
“No. Please, I really want to see you and explain some things to you.”
“There’s nothing to explain. Just give me some space—for real this time. Alright?” I hate how calm he sounds, as though he's already determined to forget about loving me. “I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
Later? He said he’s leaving. When is later?
“Murph, no wait.”
Oh, my gosh. He hung up.
Crap! How am I supposed to grand-gesture and make him listen if he’s fleeing the county? I need an army to close all the exit points and subdue him. I need…
Wait a minute.
I do have an army.
A small one. An unconventional one, but, hey, you make do with what you have.
Bringing up my contacts, I hit the call button, pacing past my Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots in my old bedroom. They’re the inspiration I need. Love is a battlefield, and I’m prepared to do battle for the man I love.
“Hey, Cheri? Yeah. I need your help.”