Seth
“Looking good, Avery,” Lou grins from the couch as I walk over, dressed in a beige silk-pajamas and a face mask, holding two glasses and a bottle of red wine. She’s wearing something similar, and her chestnut hair is pulled up in a bun on her head.
Lou Mitchell and I were neighbors turned best friends back in Santa Ana before her dad decided his job was more important than our friendship, and every other thing in Lou’s life, and they moved to Austin, Texas.
They didn’t even stay long enough to let her graduate high school.
I’ve never seen her so angry.
And then we cried in each other’s arms on her driveway—like it was right out of a Hallmark movie, while her dad was honking the horn.
I wanted to tell him to get lost, that he could drive off to fuck-knows-where, and leave Lou with me.
I just wanted her to stay.
But she didn’t.
So, I stood there with a burning nose, and a stone set in my stomach, watching their car disappear around the curb.
I was a wreck for months after. I mean it, life was hell.
It got a little easier when I finally convinced Kaden to be my new bestie. It’s definitely not the same, considering I’ve never had a crush on Lou. But it got easier. I felt less lonely.
Lou came here a couple of hours ago, on her way to Seattle where she’s starting a new job. I barely made it to the door before it swung open a few hours ago, announcing her arrival.
“Think fast,” she said before a bag hit me square in the chest. Then she parked her carry-on right inside the door with a big grin and jumped into my arms, giving me the hardest hug I’ve ever gotten, almost choking me in the process. I love it. Lou always gives the best hugs.
I sashay over to her, sucking my cheeks in and sway my hips like I’m on the catwalk.
“Work it, girl,” she cheers. “Give us a twirl!”
I spin around, finishing off with a pose and she laughs.
“Is it serving cunt?”
“Yeah, I don’t know what that means,” she says.
I mull it over for a second. “Yeah, me neither.”
“Should it be serving cunt anyway?” She frowns. “Since you’re, you know, gay and all?”
“Is it serving dick?” I raise an eyebrow. “Or ass?”
“What? No,” she laughs before she makes gimmie fingers at the glasses still in my hand. “I think you should stick to serving wine. Pour me some, cupbearer.”
I sit down next to her and pour a glass for each of us before scooting further up on the couch, sitting crisscross applesauce.
“Milady,” I say, clinking my glass with hers.
“Milord.”
“If people heard us, they’d barf.”
“I know,” she says, sipping her wine before she strokes a hand over the fabric of my pajama.
“I wasn’t sure on the size, but it looks great.
” That was what was in the bag she threw at me.
I love it but I’d never let myself buy something like that.
“And have you just been at the hairdresser? Your hair looks great, Seth.” She smiles at me. My biggest supporter, right here.
“Oh, my god, she’s amazing—this new one I go to. Look at these shadow roots,” I say, folding a hand under my chin, batting my eyelashes at her, making her laugh.
She’s amazing, though, my new hairdresser. I’ve gone to her for a few months now and she’s doing a bang up job keeping my hair naturally platinum, if that’s even a thing. That’s what she calls it anyway.
“Love it,” Lou says, sipping her wine. “Ugh, I wish I could stay longer than one night, but I really need to unpack when I get there. And then there’s this intro thing on Monday already, so—”
“Excuses, excuses,” I sigh loudly, rolling my eyes, and take a sip of the wine.
“Yes, well, the door swings both ways,” she shoots back in a faux British accent, and sips her wine loudly enough to make us both crack up.
I love this. We used to do this all the time in high school. Not the wine, but this. Us. Curled up on a couch, or her bed, talking our brains out. Doing face masks, and flipping through fashion magazines. And I miss it so damn much.
“Yo!” Kaden says when I answer the phone the next day. It’s been a few hours since Lou left and I’m cranky as hell. I always miss her like crazy right after we say goodbye and usually spend a day moping around in my apartment, being an absolute needy wreck.
“Sup?” I drawl, reaching for the remote to mute the movie—The Greatest Showman.
“Whatcha doing, Sunshine?”
“Oh, you know, drowning in self-pity,” I say, stretching out on my couch.
He snorts. “You want some company to go with that?”
“Depends. Will you stroke my hair?”
“No.”
“Hold my hand?”
“You know I won’t.”
“Wow, just say you hate me.”
“I do. But I can play FIFA with you?”
I sigh loudly, making sure he can hear it.
He chuckles. “Want me to bring some candy? Or food? You want a sub?”
“I want you to stroke my hair and feel sorry for me—”
“’Cause you’re hungover? Fat chance,” he deadpans.
“Asshole!”
“Pot, meet kettle.”
“Uno reverse!” I snap.
He scoffs. “You can’t Uno reverse that.”
I mumble something incoherently.
“What?”
“Fine,” I exhale. “Bring me food. Please.”
“’kay. Thirty minutes.”
This is a loophole. I’ve found some over the years I’ve known Kaden and I use them to cloak my inner desires as harmless jokes. He’d never suspect I actually mean it. Flirting with him, asking him to hold my hand, stroke my hair…
It’d be laughable if it wasn’t such a travesty.
I go to change my clothes, hanging the silk-pajamas in my closet, and put on a pair of sweats and a hoodie.
I put away the wine bottles in the recycling bin under my sink and do a sweep over my apartment.
After making sure I didn’t miss anything, I shuffle back to the couch and put the fashion magazines in a box under the couch.
I turn the TV off when I hear Kaden coming up the stairs.
“You have to lock your door, Seth!” he calls from the hallway. I roll my eyes before he emerges in the doorway.
“You have to lock your door,” he repeats.
“But then I’d have to get up and unlock it when you come around.”
“I could’ve been anyone. Do you really want a psychopath waltzing in here?” He frowns.
“What are the odds?”
He raises his eyebrows. “Do you wanna find out?”
I sigh, pouting. “I forgot to lock after Lou left.”
It’s not really the truth. I usually never lock the door but I’m a needy loser right now and I want his sympathy.
He looks me over, where I’m flat out on the couch—hood up, arms crossed. He leans a shoulder on the frame, giving me a small smile with a piece of gum between his teeth. Then he tilts his head. “That bad, huh?”
I sigh dramatically, shrugging.
“I brought food,” he says, revealing a bag. “I got you a sub, and—” he draws the word out as he digs into the bag, and pulls up a bag of cherry ropes. My favorite. Of course.
He strides to the kitchen, and my eyes aren’t mine to control, so they travel down his body and fixate on his ass.
Ugh, I’m the worst.
But his black jeans are hugging those globes like they were meant for each other.
Oh, to be a set of clothing.
I clear my throat. “So, what’d you get me?”
“An All-Star for my all-star,” he winks, drying his hands on a towel. And would you look at that? The butterflies I was sure I’d slayed are indeed alive and flapping their nasty little wings in my stomach.
“What’d you get?”
He tuts, gesturing like it’s obvious. “The Stallion.”
I roll my eyes, but yes, that’s exactly how one would describe him. Fuck my life. Honestly. Fuck it.
He scoots my legs over, making room for himself, before he drops down on the couch, handing me my sub.
“So, how’re things with Lou?” he asks around a bite.
They’ve only met a handful of times because I’m scared they’d be good together, and I’m the worst of the worst.
But honestly? That might actually kill me. I can’t lose either of them, and if I’d have to spend the rest of my life being the third wheel to their happily ever after—The Straight Edition?—I might as well kick the bucket.
“She’s got a new job up in Seattle.”
“Yeah? What kind of job?” he asks.
“Eco something-something.” I reply vaguely and reach for the can of Coke on the coffee table.
“Isn’t she a consultant?”
And I both hate and love that he knows that.
“Yeah, eco consultant, I think.”
“Environmental consultant,” he says, crumpling his wrapper.
“What?”
“It’s environmental consultant.”
I throw my own crumpled wrapper at him. He ducks and turns towards me.
“Wow,” he grins. “It’s worse than ever today. What’s the matter, Sethele?” he mocks, pinching my legs. I jerk away, but he wraps his hands around each of my ankles and then climbs on top to hold them down.
“Dude! Get off!” I squeal, my hoarse voice breaking on the high note. But he just laughs, pinching my thighs instead and—fuck, please don’t get hard!
Don’t get hard! Don’t get hard!
But his hands are right there, and I’m wearing sweats, and even if it hurts like hell when he pinches the insides of my thighs—his hands are on the insides of my thighs, and I’m hungover, and horny and miserable.
“Kade!” I howl, trying to push him away, but dude’s been spending lockdown in a gym, and I’m fucking toast. I’m a stick compared to him. I've got nothing.
But then he stops, and I stop breathing because I don’t know if he stopped because he felt my hard-on, or because he came to his senses. He’s laughing though, so—
“You’re so fucking touchy when you’re hungover,” he says, climbing off of me.
“I’m touchy? You just had your hands all over me, and that’s the word you chose?”
“Fine. You’re greedy.”
“Excuse me?” I sit up, discreetly placing a pillow in my lap, urging my boner to die.
“You’ve got two best friends, dude, fucking cheer up!” he chuckles.
I scoff. “Yeah, well, one of them lives a thousand miles from here, and the other—” is the man of my dreams. I clamp my mouth shut.
He raises his brows expectantly.
“The other’s an asshole,” I chuckle.
He laughs. “Uno reverse! I got you cherry ropes.”