3
What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck—
It was just that phrase, on loop in my head for the last twenty-four hours since Uzezi had clearly temporarily been replaced by an alien. Because what in the actual fuck?
He’d just posted on Instagram. I let myself stare at the picture like I’d never seen him before.
His afro was cut close to his scalp, his jaw framed with a thick, full beard.
Unlike me, who’d gained weight once I hit university, Uzezi had been fat all his life, and in my opinion, had only grown fatter and hotter as he’d gotten older.
All his dedicated gym visits had done was make that thick body a little more defined.
His warm, medium brown skin was flushed with sweat, and he was sitting at the end of a weightlifting bench, phone up to face the gym’s floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
A bright grin showed pearly white teeth, and deep dimples in his cheeks that were sadly hidden underneath his beard.
But I loved me a sexy ass beard, so I accepted the dimples their sacrifice.
Prince was on the bench literally fighting for his life behind Uzezi, his hands clenched around the bar mid-lift, expression twisted with frantic desperation.
Despite myself, I snorted at the pic, guessing they’d likely staged the whole thing as I commented:
Prince is literally dying behind you.
I didn’t have to wait long for Uzezi’s reply:
This aint about him.
Even though I’d predicated his response, I still snorted out a laugh.
“What’s that?” Fiona glanced up distractedly.
Fiona, Bernice, and I worked for an events company, and today we were working at a wedding.
We were outside, at the back of the reception venue, waiting to serve the food and drinks, and pick up any stray trash.
All of us—my housemates and I, along with some of the other hires—were either on our phones or gisting amongst ourselves, since the guests were still at the church and wouldn’t be arriving for another twenty minutes, according to the events planner.
We were just about to end the first week of March; Spring was supposed to be coming in a few weeks, but we’d had a brief snowfall literally this morning.
Despite that, the sun was out, and Fiona, Bernice, and I were echoing our white counterparts—we were the only Black, non-British people here—by enjoying the sunlight for the decoration it was while it lasted.
I was standing, resting against the wall behind me, with the back doors to the venue a few feet to my right. Fiona sat on a metal bench to my left, reading on her Kindle, while Bernice was standing a few feet in front of me, on her phone like I was.
I resisted the urge to throw my phone into the trash beside me like a guilty child. Bernice noticed my expression, dancing up to my side and peering at my phone screen before I could hide it.
“Damn.” She whistled. I know, right? I may not be attracted to him, but I had working eyes, and Uzezi looked really fucking good in that pic. Then she frowned and laughed when she caught on. “Looks like Prince has lost his spotter.”
“What’s that? Let me see.” Fiona reached out a hand. I showed her the picture. She snorted. “Fucking clowns, both of them.”
“Right?” I said, bringing the phone back to my face. I stared at Uzezi, at his dazzling smile, at the way his shorts clung to his thick thighs, which were spread wide as he straddled the weightlifting bench.
I think we should have sex.
I didn’t know what my face had done after he’d said it last night; in fact, I’d almost convinced myself I might have hallucinated the whole thing had he not grabbed my hands in his and squeezed before he’d left for the night, asking, “Are we okay?”
“Yes,” I remembered scoffing. “Of course we’re okay.”
He’d smiled, sweet and relieved, and I’d loved him so fiercely in that moment I’d easily been able to shrug aside his brief loss of sense. I hadn’t been lying when I’d said we were okay and had gone to bed without sparing it another thought.
Then I’d woken up and it had hit me all over again, and I’d thought, what the actual fuck.
I think we should have sex.
Had he meant it? Of course he’d meant it. Uzezi was meticulous like that; he said he’d spent the days since our convo thinking about it, and I knew he meant that shit literally.
But I’d flailed and he’d backed off, and now, I was spiralling. What even the fuck? Why was I still thinking about it? Surely, I wasn’t considering it? Ha. Ha. No. Of course not. The fuck.
“What’s all this, then?” Bernice raised an eyebrow when I glanced guiltily at her. “What’s going on with your face?”
“Huh? My face? What’s wrong with my face?”
Bernice snorted. “Want to try that again? This time, good?”
Fiona laughed. She’d tuned into the conversation at Bernice’s question and was eyeing me critically from the bench. I took a deep breath, locked my phone, and shoved it into my jacket pocket. Fuck, my hands were cold. I rubbed them together.
“Uzezi thinks we should have sex.”
There was a brief silence.
“With each other, you mean?” Fiona clarified, making three of us burst into laughter.
“Yes, with each other, obviously,” Bernice said, grinning. “Or did he mean the three of us?” She leered. I rolled my eyes. She laughed again, then her grin faded slightly. “I thought you guys didn’t see each other that way.”
“We don’t.”
“What even brought this on?” Fiona asked with a curious frown.
I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets.
“Okay, so, you know how I’ve said I want my first time to be special?
” I loved that they’d never laughed me off or judged me for wanting something like that, despite the three of us, apart from Uzezi, being the only members of our friend group who’d never had sex.
Fiona wasn’t purposefully waiting for a special someone, precisely; she was demisexual, wasn’t interested in casual, and just hadn’t met anyone who’d caught her fancy.
I didn’t think Bernice was interested in sex or romance at all, though she hadn’t said as much.
It was just an inkling, from her general neutrality and sometimes disinterest whenever the topics came up.
“Well, it hasn’t just been a dream of mine, but mine and Uzezi’s. ”
“Uzezi has never had sex?” Fiona looked shocked.
“No,” I said, slightly amused. He wasn’t exactly keeping it a secret; he just never talked to the group about the intimate details of his relationships, unless it was with me.
“Huh.”
“Why are you so surprised?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just assumed, which was obviously wrong of me. Please carry on.”
I snorted. “Anyway, I guess ... recently, with all my trials and errors in dating, I thought I might just get it over with, you know? Do it with a stranger and have it be done. I just feel like it’s unrealistic to want something so ...
I don’t know. Impossible or whatever. I feel like maybe I’ve romanticised the whole “first time” thing a little too much. ”
“Ah.” Fiona nodded in understanding.
“And ... let me guess: he thought, rather than meeting a stranger, you might as well help each other out?” Bernice sounded sceptical, but she was smiling.
“Basically. Wild right?” I laughed but it sounded a tad hysterical. Just a tad.
“What did you say?”
“No, obviously. I mean ... wouldn’t it be weird? Having sex with my best friend?”
Fiona eyed me. “Depends. Do you want to have sex with your best friend?”
“No. Pft. I mean—it’s not—wouldn’t it—this isn’t—” Fiona’s gaze grew knowing the longer I struggled to articulate myself.
Frustrated, I finally blurted, “Okay, so a part of me wants to say yes because he’s my best friend—because he knows me and he loves me, and I know he’ll make it good.
But another part of me is afraid that if we did try to have sex, we’d be so grossed out it would basically ruin our friendship forever. ”
There was a brief pause as my housemates let my rant sink in.
“Maybe you should kiss,” Fiona suggested. I blinked. She smiled. “I mean, what better way to know the chemistry is there, right? Even if it’s platonic.”
“Chemistry is chemistry,” Bernice agreed with a solemn nod. I huffed out an amused noise.
“If you kiss and it’s weird, then at least you’d know. Kissing won’t fuck up your friendship too badly, right?”
“No ...” Maybe I was being a little dramatic, because not even the world ending could fuck up our friendship; he meant that much to me. We’d been through too much for a little thing like kissing to come between us. It should be the same with sex, but, somehow, a part of me refused to agree.
Kissing did feel ... safer. Something we could laugh off if it was strange, and still come out virtually unchanged on the other side.
“There you go,” Fiona said, smiling slyly. “Ask him for a kiss. If it’s weird, it’s weird, and hey, at least you tried. And if it’s not ...”
“I’ll do that. Maybe,” I hedged, but the idea had lodged its claws firmly into my brain and refused to let go.
I was still thinking about it when the events planner came outside, letting us know the congregation were on the way, and we quickly made our way inside the venue to get ready.
I was still thinking about it when the party was over, and Fiona, Bernice, and I tiredly got the bus back home.
I was still thinking about it after I’d taken a shower and curled up in bed, my heart pounding every time Uzezi sent me a text; we were almost always texting about something—what was trending online, uni work, our families and futures, silly memes and shit.
But now, each time my phone buzzed, it made my heart leap into my throat, like he’d sense my thoughts somehow and ask me about it.
Was he still thinking about the question he’d asked me last night? Or had he firmly pushed it aside after my inadvertent rejection?
I was still thinking about it after we’d said our goodnights, and I was lying in the dark, trying to fall asleep. Heart pounding, face buried in my pillows, I tried to imagine his lips pressing against mine.
I mentally recoiled from the image, immediately weirded out.
I knew people had sex for the sake of it; some did it for the connection, or the pleasure of the act, or whatever it was, all without necessarily being sexually attracted to the person they were having sex with. I knew it, but this was Uzezi. Uzi.
But I had to admit, I really, really liked the idea of us giving that to each other. As Uzezi had said, try as I might, I wanted my first experience with sex to be good. And Uzezi would make it good, just as I’d make sure to make it good for him, too. I had no doubts about that.
Well, then. I sighed, flopping onto my back.
There was no way around it. I was going to have to kiss my best friend.