Thirteen
Liem
Let me be nice and say Bri’s friends have a ton of energy. Loud, bubbly, zero boundaries. It’s . . . wonderful. Bri’s friends have a ton of energy. Loud, bubbly, zero boundaries. It’s . . . great.
I can see now why touch is so casual for Bri.
The three have been wrapped around each other all day, talking with the same crass humor as they did the first time I spoke with them.
Having them in the apartment is a lot. Hearing them from up the hall is a lot.
Having dinner with them probably would have done me in.
Bri had me thinking I was an ambivert until this weekend.
I’m glad she has this time with them, though I must admit it’s made me a little jealous. I’ve had her to myself for almost a month, and in what could be our last days together, I get a front-row seat to how happy she would be at home.
Even though Bri gave me a scripted out if I got overwhelmed, I had enough real work to keep me busy through their dinner and during their first round of drinks in the kitchen.
Now they’re all in her bed—a pillow fight away from a heterosexual teenage boy’s wet dream.
It’s one in the morning, and their giggles still carry up the hall.
I cozied up with a book in bed, figuring I’d be up until they tucker out and go to their hotel, but between distractions from up the hall and some anxious thoughts, I keep having to reread the same paragraph over and over.
They stole my evening decompression time with Bri, and honestly, I’m a little resentful.
She’s only committed to being here for another week, and they’re taking two of my seven days—more than a quarter of my time.
If I get stuck here for another month, no Bri, I’m on a countdown to unblocking Natalie and crawling back to verify she still hates me.
I miss her. Not only the companionship or the comfort of having someone familiar next to me. I also miss the sex. Having the safety to explore a full physical connection with someone I care for, expressing my affection in the most connective way possible.
Maybe I’ve been thinking too much about it lately, being around Bri.
How calm she makes me. How authentic I can be when we’re alone, how much I can tell her that I’ve never been able to admit to anyone before.
In so many ways, I feel more emotionally connected to her than I ever felt to Natalie. And my body agrees.
It shouldn’t be confusing. Bri’s assessment was correct.
When I feel safe with someone, some part of my brain interprets that as affection.
Love isn’t attention, but trust is trust, and I trust Bri with almost everything.
She tore down my walls in mere minutes, and now, weeks later, my penis and brain are in a battle of wits.
I’ll rub my feelings out and save my brain from continuing its losing battle.
I spit in my hand and reach beneath the covers.
The first grip quiets my mind and lets me focus on getting out my frustration.
I caress a hand over my chest and stomach, pretending to remember what it feels like to be adored again.
Imagining the sound of Bri’s moans while I stroke it a few more times has me right on the edge.
Then the tap on my door brings me right back.
“Liem? Are you still awake?”
Shit. I pull my hand away from my dick as if she can see me through the wall. “I—I am. What’s up?” She opens the door and strolls in. I sit up, bunching the covers on my hips. “Wait. Bri, I . . .”
“I know you sleep naked. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” she says with a smirk.
She’s in my bed before I can stop her, crawling to my side and sitting on her knees.
Her shorts are living up to their name, and her hair is wrapped up in a satin scarf, ready for sleep.
She peers down at me with intimidating grace.
A goddess and a nightmare all in one. For a moment, I forget I need to breathe.
“I told Keke and Junie they could stay here. Is that okay? Their flight is early, so it’ll only be until the morning.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. This is your place too.”
She gives me a look that shows me she disagrees. “I’m going to give them my bed and sleep on the couch. Can I borrow a blanket?”
“No,” I say. Her brow furrows. “I mean, no, you don’t have to sleep on the couch. You can sleep here.” My mouth blurs the intentional and subliminal of my message.
“Really?” Her grin and suggestive tone show me I’ve given the wrong impression.
“I meant I would sleep on the couch.”
“No, you won’t. Wanna cuddle?”
Yes. Luckily, I kept that inside this time.
She’s kidding, but I wish she wasn’t. I laugh her off, sitting up against my headboard, careful to keep the sheets bunched on my lap.
The brush of fabric is enough to make me stifle a whimper.
It’s hard to not be hard when the object of my recent fantasy is a few inches away, smelling sweet as a honeysuckle, making my heart beat as fast as a hummingbird’s.
She scoots beside me, her shoulder pressing against mine when she tucks her knees up. I focus on her eyes, ignoring the urge to glance down and see how high her shorts have ridden up.
“I’m sorry about today. They should have told me they were coming.” She whispers as if they might hear her from down the hall.
“It’s fine. I know you’ve been missing them.”
“I have. And I also haven’t.”
Does she feel the same way I do? “How so?”
“I feel like such a failure when I’m around them.
It’s not like they rub their success in my face or like they haven’t worked their asses off for everything they have.
But it’s hard. I’ve been on the same path as them and ended up with nothing, and they’ve achieved so much they have to come up with new dreams to chase. ”
I’ll never get over how Bri—dealing with a painful condition, self-aware, and intelligent—feels like an underachiever because she doesn’t have a good job.
“What makes you think that?” I challenge her assumptions. “Did they say something?”
Her face says yes, even though she says, “No.” Her lips twist to the side. “I found out Keisha is pregnant.”
Yikes. “How do you feel about that?”
“She’s wanted this for a long time. I’m happy for her.
But she’s my oldest friend, and it feels like another milestone separating me from her,” she says.
“I’m good with my choices. It only bothers me when everyone I love seems to be moving into parts of life I can’t reach.
I don’t feel like I’m missing out by only being an aunt, but I mourn not getting to share a monumental part of their lives with them in first-person. ”
“Damn. That’s deep.”
“It’s giving me more of a reason not to go back until I have a job and an apartment at least. Imagine me living with her while she’s hormonal. She’s extra even when she’s chemically balanced.”
I let out a light laugh to acknowledge her joke, though I’m hanging on her underlying message. “Does that mean you’ll stay?”
Her eyes linger on mine for a moment. “If you want me to.”
The smile pulls on my cheeks before I can stop it. “Of course I do.”
“Thanks, Hoodie.” She pulls me into a hug. I welcome it and the deep inhale of her marshmallow scent that comes with it. “Speaking of hoodies, do you want to put some pants on before I join you under the covers?”
“Yeah, my bad.” I turn to get up and realize my predicament. “Don’t look at my ass.”
“But I want to.” She pouts. Joking again. Probably.
“Bri.”
She grumbles and rolls over. “You’re no fun.”
Knowing Bri will live with me for longer fills me with warmth. Her sun will stay in my sky. Maybe I don’t have privacy anymore, but I like it.
I like Bri.
A lot.