Briar
Icheck my phone for the millionth time today. Still no reply from Blake.
A sinking feeling lands at the center of my chest.
“Hey, can you help me find the reference book for tort law?”
I look up at the student standing in front of me at the reference desk and quickly put my phone away.
“Yes. Absolutely.” I stand up and walk them over to the opposite end of the floor. I gesture to the shelf. “It’s this whole section right here.”
“Thanks,” he says.
I walk back over to my desk, feeling utterly confused and off-kilter. It’s been two days since Blake ended our first sex lesson by walking out of his bedroom after mumbling something about not feeling well.
He was gone for the rest of the night. When I woke up in the morning, I checked his air mattress on the floor, but he wasn’t there. He must have woken up before me and then left. Or he didn’t come to his bedroom at all.
He was gone last night for an away game with the hockey team. When I texted him to check in with him, he left me on read.
I was confused until it finally hit me: he lied about feeling sick the other night. He just didn’t want to be around me. That’s why he’s been avoiding me and not responding to my messages.
I feel that familiar sucker-punch of rejection once more.
I’m so confused. I replayed what we did a million times, and I still can’t figure out what went wrong.
But maybe that’s because I’m too distracted by the orgasm he gave me…
I think back to that night…how Blake was perfect in every way.
How he took his time. How he didn’t rush me. How he made sure I was comfortable the whole time.
How he prioritized my pleasure. How, when he showed me that porn video, he checked in with me to make sure I was okay with it.
I think about how he picked a video that prioritized female pleasure…and how it turned me on even more.
I think about the way he talked me through it as he touched my clit and my pussy. How rough and low his voice sounded.
How good his fingers felt, teasing my clit. How big he felt inside of me. How he knew exactly how to touch me.
How quickly he made me come. I didn’t think I could come that fast.
I wanted him to come too. Judging by the massive bulge in his pants, he was turned on too.
But when it was my turn to show him what gets me off, his whole demeanor changed.
The second he saw That Shirtless Guy’s account, he bolted. Maybe he really was weirded out by the fact that I get turned on by a headless guy’s Instagram photos.
Or maybe it was something else…
Maybe he was turned off by me. Yeah, he said it was hot that I got so wet, but maybe he was trying to be polite?
He licked my wetness of his hand though. He looked so aroused while he did it too. It seemed so genuine. So raw.
My head spins. I’m so confused. I must have done or said something to repel him. I just wish he would tell me what’s bothering him so we can talk about it and move on.
I look at our latest text exchange, when he actually answered me.
Me: Are you feeling better from when you were sick the other night?
Blake: Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been busy.
Me: Is there anything I can do to help?
Blake: No. Thanks, though.
Me: Hey, do you wanna grab lunch after you get back from your away game?
He never responded. He just left me on read.
I let out a sigh, feeling lonely and sad. Clearly, he needs space, but I can’t help but feel rejected. My best friend doesn’t want to be around me, and I can’t figure out why.
* * *
Something presses on my neck.
I can’t breathe.
My ex, Logan, is standing in front of me. His forearm is against my throat, pinning me between him and the wall.
Every muscle in my body tenses. Panic shoots through me.
I open my mouth to tell him to stop, but nothing comes out. I try to scream, but I can’t make a sound.
I try to shove him off of me, but I can’t. I’m too weak. He’s twice my size. Twice my strength.
This time, when I open my mouth, a choking sound comes out. I grab his arm and squeeze tight, silently pleading with him to stop. But he doesn’t.
He just keeps looking at me with that blank stare on his face. His eyes are glazed over. He’s drunk.
I pound my fists against his arm, his chest, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink.
He shoves his other hand down my pants. Tears prick my eyes. That panic inside of me intensifies and sharpens. Dread slices through me like a knife.
He’s not gonna stop. I don’t want this, but he doesn’t care.
I’m pushing and shoving him, but he doesn’t react. He just keeps me pinned in place with one hand, while his other hand pushes my legs open…
I’m yelling and crying out, still nothing. My throat is raw.
But then, my voice finally comes back.
“No, please, stop!”
My eyes open. All I see is darkness.
I’m breathing hard and shaking. I blink over and over, making out the darkened images in front of me.
A window and a lamp and a nightstand…
I’m in bed. Blake’s bed. I was having a nightmare.
“Briar? Are you okay?”
The sound of Blake’s rough, sleepy voice is instant comfort.
I squint in the darkness and see him sitting up on the floor. He must have been sleeping on the air mattress.
He wasn’t here when I went to bed, so he must have come in later, when I was asleep.
It takes a moment for me to make out his face in the dark. His brow is furrowed. Worry is etched in every line on his face.
When I don’t say anything, he stands up and walks over to me.
He kneels at the side of the bed and gently cups my cheek in his hand.
“Hey,” he says, his tone soft. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Calm washes over me. I stop shaking.
I close my eyes as my breathing evens out. “I…I had a nightmare.”
I touch my fingertips to my throat, scared that I’ll feel pain or soreness. But to my relief, I don’t feel anything.
It was just a bad dream.
Blake gently brushes my hair out of my face. That’s when I realize how much I’m sweating.
“Oh, I’m so gross,” I say.
“You’re not gross,” he says in that soft, gentle tone.
My eyes are used to the darkness now. I can see his watchful expression, the focused look in his blue eyes as he stares at me.
Seeing him like this—seeing him at all is a shock to my system.
It’s been three days since the last time we saw each other. Three days since we were this close, face to face. Three days since he walked out on me that night after we fooled around. Three days of him barely answering my texts.
I should be mad at him. But I’m not.
My nervous system, which was going haywire in my sleep, is suddenly calm.
Because he’s here. My best friend is here.
He’s here, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in this world that he cares about—like I’m the only thing in this world that matters to him.
And in this moment, it’s exactly what I want. What I need.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asks in that low, rough tone that makes me warm all over.
I think about holding back. I think about making something up.
But I can’t do that. I can’t look my best friend in the eye and lie.
I always tell Blake the truth, no matter what.
“I had a bad dream about Logan,” I say after a moment. “About what he did to me…”
Pain flickers in Blake’s eyes. Then, a second later, his gaze sharpens and darkens.
“Briar, I…” He blinks, and the hardness is gone. All that’s left in his gaze is something soft and pleading. “Do you want me to hold you?”
I should say no. I should tell him off for avoiding me these past few days.
But I don’t. Because I want Blake to hold me. I want him to wrap his big arms around me and make me feel safe.
I nod. “Yes. Please.”
He crawls into bed with me. He wraps his massive, muscled arms around me and hugs me into his chest.
The remaining tension in my body fades as I nuzzle into his big, broad chest. I sink into his embrace and close my eyes.
I think about all the other times Blake has held me.
That time we watched Longlegs in the movie theatre, and I got so freaked out that I practically crawled into his lap.
When we got caught out in a downpour during a field trip to Red Rocks junior year of high school, and I stood there shivering, so Blake wrapped his arms around me. The countless hugs we’ve shared.
But this? This is different.
“It’s okay, B. I’m here now. You’re safe. You’re okay.”
My heart skids in my chest. The sound of his voice, soft and steady. The feel of his body strong and warm.
It is everything.
He is everything I need right now.
Yeah, things are weird between us because we haven’t addressed why he’s been avoiding me.
But I don’t need to get into that right now. Right now, all I need is Blake, my best friend, holding me, protecting me, making me feel safe.
When I fall asleep, I don’t have another nightmare. I don’t even dream.
I fall into the deepest sleep I can ever remember having.