by Tijan
He chuckled, bending close again. He placed another soft kiss on my forehead before he pushed his finger there, easing me back down. “Go to bed, psycho. I have a driver coming.”
“No.”
I was determined.
Pride. Stubbornness. All of my superhero qualities.
There. I got my eyes open, and whoa—it was so dark out. He was right. No one should be up at this time, but he was, so I was. He still wavered over me. I pushed him aside and scooted to the bathroom first.
“Are you for real?” His exasperation was evident.
“Yes,” I yelled over, peeing. A quick wash. Teeth. I splashed my face a little, then I opened the door and waved him in. “Go. Get ready. I’ll put on coffee. You canceled your driver, right?”
He growled as he grabbed for his phone.
I pulled on clothes. I wasn’t even looking, but it might not have been a coincidence when I grabbed one of his sweatshirts. I had a problem, a sweatshirt problem. Pretty sure I could’ve started a support group, because I know I wasn’t alone.
Slipping some shoes on, I got the coffee going, and had a cup ready for him when he was done. Keys. Phone. Purse. I was set. Black leggings on, his sweatshirt over, and my hair up in a messy bun, I was sure I was the epitome of beauty. Not. I didn’t care. The coffee gave me points.
He came out, all ready, saw me, and shook his head.
Giving him the biggest smile I could muster, I handed over his coffee and dangled my keys. “Let’s go.”
My neighbor was coming home from his night shift at a factory. He was trudging down the hallway when he saw us, lifted a hand in greeting, then stopped. His head shot upright and his shoulders stiffened.
He rotated swiftly on his heels, his eyes wide and bulging. He held up a hand. “Is that—”
“No.” Lying. Another superhero quality of mine. “It’s late, Bill. That’s my brother.”
Reese squashed a laugh and nodded to the guy. “What’s up.” It wasn’t a question, but a greeting, and he hustled me past my neighbor.
I gave Reese a look as we went to my underground parking spot. “He’s going to hammer me later. He’ll know he wasn’t seeing things.”
“He’s a fan?”
“The biggest.”
Reese smirked, meeting my gaze over the top of my car. “Bigger than you?”
We were entering cheesy couple territory here. We needed to scale it back.
“I have a cardboard cutout of you,” I told him. “In my closet.”
He froze. “You’re joking.”
I was, but now I had to buy one. “Wouldn’t you like to think that.” Settling into my chair, I felt better—more familiar terrain again. “But the funny thing is, next time you come, you won’t know if I was serious or if I bought him after I told you.”
Reese just rolled his eyes, putting the coffees in the cup holders for both of us.
He was looking around as I pulled out of the lot. “This is actually a nice place.”
“The underground parking is nice. The apartment building itself is okay. Nothing great.” I didn’t tell him how the lights in the laundry room would dim, so if I used those machines, I had to prop the door open with a rock. Or how I’d only do my clothes between seven in the morning and nine. Nine was the latest. After that, people were stirring, and there were a few neighbors I wasn’t so sure about.
Reese whistled as I pulled up to departures seven minutes later. “You weren’t kidding. That’s close.”
“And you’ve barely had your coffee.”
He yawned now, blinking a few times. “I’ll grab some inside. You can have it.”
I parked, but didn’t shut off the engine.
“Do not get out,” he warned.
I grinned. “Wasn’t planning on it. We really don’t need to go to that level, with the hugging, would we kiss or not… Too many strings, friend.”
He smiled back, but his eyes had started to smolder a bit. He leaned over, dropping his voice, “I’ll answer one of those questions.” His lips caught mine in a good, firm kiss, one that sent my senses spiraling and stole just the slightest bit of oxygen from my lungs.
I might’ve needed to gather my bearings as he pulled back and grabbed his bag from the back. Before he turned, he gave me a second kiss, this one lighter. “Go home. Go to bed,” he said as he reached for the door. “Text me when you park, and again when you’re inside your place. Humor me. I’m a friend. I can care.”
He was starting to leave, but I tugged on his shirt.
He paused, looking back.
“And after that?” I asked.
“We’re friends. Let’s play it by ear.”
Our gazes held, a shared reminder of the other details in our agreement. I saw his darkening, so I let go. “Okey-dokey. Hope you don’t get mauled.”
He laughed. “It’s too early for that.”
But we both knew the truth. It could happen.
As if reading my mind, he amended, “It’s usually not that bad. If it is—and I don’t think it will be—airport security is good with celebrities here. They’ve got a special room and everything. Plus…” He reached in his bag and pulled out a baseball hat, dragging it low over his eyes and flicking up his hood. “This is pretty incognito.”
His height wasn’t, but I decided to pick my battles. “I’ll expect twenty questions by the time you land.”
He laughed. “Don’t think so. I’m going to be sleeping that whole time, but I’ll text you updates just to annoy you.” He got out, but bent back down, his tone more serious. “Do me a favor? Only take that job if you want it. Don’t take it because you feel desperate. I can loan you money, if anything.”
That wiped all joking aside. “Reese.” Dammit. “I’ll never lose myself in a guy again. Ever.”
“Yeah, but before you didn’t have a friend who could loan you money until you got to a place where you could pick something that actually made you happy.” His eyes flashed a warning. “Now you do. Just think about it. It’s a loan. I’d give one to another friend in the same spot.”
I rolled my eyes.
He chuckled. “Drive safe. I liked screwing you. Let’s do it again and soon.”
“I changed my mind. Get mauled!”
I could hear his laugh as he shut the door and headed inside, his bag over his shoulder. Only a couple guys squinted at him, their heads cocked to the side. He was right. His incognito look really was incognito, but he was still frustrating.
And I was hoping for the soon too.
Driving back, my phone kept buzzing.
Reese: Checking in.
Reese: I had to check my bag. It’s too big for a carry-on.
Reese: Two autographs.
Reese: Going up the escalator now.
Reese: At the security line. The guards are cool. They promised not to be angry when Thunder beats the Coyotes.
Reese: Through security.
He knew I couldn’t answer. I was driving.
Reese: I’m at gate A6.
Reese: This is a nice airport. I always forget till I get here.
Reese: I upgraded to first class.
Reese: Coach wants to make sure I get back in time for meetings this morning.
Reese: Still not boarding. Just letting you know.
After parking, I grabbed my phone.
Me: It’s supposed to be questions. Like, if I asked security if I could put a body in my bag, could I still check it? Questions like that. You’re not following the rules.
Reese: Fuck the rules. These are my rules.
Reese: You do questions. I do updates. Deal with it.
Reese: Except now. Are you back at your place?
Me: Yes. Walking upstairs now.
Reese: No updates from you. Well. Yes. Tell me when you get in your place.
I turned down my hallway. Bill’s door opened and his head popped out. His hair was scruffed up like he’d been trying for a Mohawk. “No bullshit. Was that him?”
I wa
s about to break a fellow Reese Forster fan’s heart. “It was my brother.”
He glared. “You’re not fucking with me?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
That was it.
His head went back in, and he slammed his door shut.
Immediately Mrs. Rings yelled from her apartment across the hall. “STOP SLAMMING THE DOORS! EVERYONE FUCKING SHUT IT!”
And her parrot a second later.
“STOP SLAMMING FUCKING SHUT IT!”
And then, “SHUT IT, BORIS!”
And her parrot again, “EVERYONE FUCK IT AND GO TO SLEEP!”
My phone kept buzzing. I didn’t read them, just typed back.
Me: In my place. I lied to Bill, broke my heart to do it.
Reese: He’ll get over it. There’ll be other chances for you to lie again.
Reese: They’re letting me board early. For this time, there’s a lot of ball supporters here.
Me: The life of a celebrity. Poor you.
Reese: Image of me giving you the middle finger.
Me: Image of my big toe.
Reese: What the fuck is that?
Me: Now you won’t be able to stop wondering. Okay. I’m going back to bed.
Reese: Turn your phone off so I can keep sending you updates while you sleep.
Me: Shouldn’t you try to sleep too?
Reese: Yeah, but in case I can’t. Your friends said they’d just show up and bang on your door anyway, so sleep. For real. Turn your phone off.
Me: It’s like you care about me. Friend.
Reese: Don’t do that. But I care about certain activities with you. How about that? Better?
I laughed, and something settled in me. I wasn’t going to question it. It’d been with me since we woke up—an uneasiness sitting on my stomach.
This might’ve been a good feeling, but I was scared to feel it. Even while we were doing the jokes, the teasing, using the crude words, that feeling wouldn’t dislodge.
Whatever it was, it was there, and I knew when it left, I would miss it.
I typed back.
Me: Turning phone off. I care about fucking you too.
But I didn’t turn my phone off. I silenced it, left it on, and propped it so it was facing me.
The screen lit up as his texts came in, and that unsettled feeling became more permanent.
It was two weeks later and I still hadn’t made a decision. Shortly after Reese left, Trent, Grant, Owen, and Hadley had all shown up at my apartment. Things went down just as Reese said they would.
My friends gave me their dramatic interpretation of the events that had happened after I left camp, and also brought me a job offer. It was a part-time head of promotions position. I would be given an allowance for moving, but that was it.
I wasn’t sure what to say.
Was I desperate enough to take something like that to tide me over. I could hear Reese’s words in my head. The salary wasn’t great—I really needed full-time work, but could I be too picky? I’d had a couple job interviews since I got back, but no one had called me for a second one. And I’d applied at a bunch of places. I was open to all sorts of possibilities. My degree was in social work, but I’d never used it. I took what jobs I could get.
Eye doctor’s office receptionist. Guest services coordinator at a hospital. Research assistant. My last job was data management. I’d liked that one the best, except for the boss and, you know, being fired because she mistook me for her husband’s mistress. There’s that. But the pay hadn’t been bad, and I’d enjoyed looking at numbers all day.
I was a closet nerd, until Reese found out.
He kept asking for a pic of me in a skirt and wire-rimmed glasses. I’d succumbed once as I walked past an eyeglasses kiosk in the mall, but I itched my nose with my middle finger in the photo. The sales guy thought it was hilarious—until I handed him back the glasses and tossed a “thank you” over my shoulder. He’d been dropping hints about when he got off work and asking what kind of food I liked. I booked it before the proposition could happen.
The text I’d gotten back from Reese was an image of him pulling his shorts away from his waist.
Reese: Are we doing this?
Me: Is that growing? Can’t tell. Your boxer briefs are in the way.
Reese: I have a game tonight or I’d be buying you a plane ticket right now.
That was the typical back-and-forth with us.
My friends had spent the rest of the weekend at my place, and they’d even talked me into having lunch with Janet and her new husband. I’d sworn each of them to silence about Reese. If Janet found that out, friends from when I’d gone to camp as a child would come out of the woodwork. I also made sure they were tight-lipped about Damian. I was better about talking about that situation, but I still didn’t care to go there with Janet.
I’d also returned to my therapist.
She was surprised by my willingness to open up, but we were peeling away one painful layer at a time. Turns out I suffered from something called caregiver’s toxic guilt.
It was a mouthful to type and say, so I kept that to myself as well. Just easier. My friends knew I was going through a level of guilt they couldn’t understand, so they had refrained from asking too many questions.
Reese was the only one who brought Damian up these days, and it was just every so often and always a roundabout question—like what other teams Damian had liked. He was never direct or demanding, but he’d bring Damian’s name up until I peeled another layer back and gave him some details about the past. Once I’d done that, he’d change the topic.
Touch and go. That’s what we were.
But it’d been two weeks of that: texting, phone calls, pictures, jokes, memes, crude gifs.
Until today. Today was game day. The Seattle Thunder was in town to play the Coyotes for the regular season.
Trent was flying in, and he’d said he was bringing a date with him. Owen and Hadley had already arrived, and we were in the car to go pick them up.
When it had slipped at Janet’s two weeks ago that they were coming back for the game, she and her husband mentioned they were going to try to get tickets. I’d looked down at my lap because I knew a few pointed looks were likely coming my way, but nope—I wasn’t interested in assisting with that in any way. Janet had never made my life any easier, and she hadn’t kept in contact with me. She’d been the easiest to stop talking to because we’d never really talked in the first place. So no, I wasn’t going to ask Reese for another set of tickets. It burned my ego to allow the ones he had offered up in the first place. I kept wanting to pay him back, but he hadn’t paid for them. He said each player had a few they could use each game, but he never used them so he had a surplus.
We were all supposed to do dinner together later tonight, though, and I wasn’t sure how I’d handle that situation.
Reese had to travel back with the team, but they weren’t flying back till the morning. That was also a touchy subject I was putting off until later. Trent and his date were going to sleep at my place. Grant, Sophia, Owen, and Hadley were all staying at Janet’s.
Where I was sleeping, I wasn’t sure yet.
“What’s holding you back?” Grant asked as we pulled up to Arrivals.
He meant what was holding me back from taking the job offer at the camp. Lack of money was one, but also, I wasn’t sure I wanted to upend everything and move there. The only place to live near camp was a small town. It was a whole different culture.
I could’ve said all those words, but there was another reason. Damian.
Fuck it. What’d it matter if I told them the truth?
“Damian is here.”
Cue the nerves now.
But the car went quiet.
Finally, Grant cleared his throat. “We don’t know what to say to you. It’s obvious you don’t want to talk about him. We get that, but we have no clue how to handle this. Do we ask questions? Do we not? What do we say to make you feel like we’re here fo
r you, but not pry because we know it’s a touchy subject. You loved the guy, and his mind was slipping, but we have no clue what even transpired. So…”
“Grant,” Sophia warned.
“You have to take the lead when you bring him up,” he said, sounding strained. “We don’t know.”
Hadley leaned forward, her hand touching my arm. “But we love you, and we’re here for you.”
Grant coughed from the driver’s seat, pulling forward into a line moving at a slow pace. “Yeah. That sentiment.” He frowned, ducking his head to see the passengers lined up on the curb. “Trent flew Delta, right? This is the right baggage claim?”
Just then, Trent and a woman came out, both pulling suitcases.
He saw us at the same time we saw them, and the entire group started laughing at his immediate frown.
We pulled up, and I opened the side door, but he just shook his head.
“Are you guys serious? The camp van?”
Hadley and I were laughing as we jumped out to hug Trent, and then hug the girl.
“Oh.” She blinked, and her arms jerked up. “Hi there.”
But our hugs were quick. We were already done and climbing into the farthest back seat.
Sophia got out and was a more gracious hostess. She hugged Trent first, then greeted the girl. Grant came around to hug Trent and shake the girl’s hand as Owen collected their suitcases, putting them in the back.
Trent was still scowling at the van, rolling his eyes.
“Stow it,” Grant said. “We figure it’s good marketing, and we all came down together anyway.”
“Right.” Trent poked his head in, glaring at me. “You could’ve warned me I was getting the camp van greeting at the airport.”
I shrugged. “It’s how we roll. You should know that.”
He grunted in response, but his scowl faded. “It’s good to see you guys.” His hand came to his date’s back. “Guys, this is Lauren. Lauren, the official camp greeting. All except Charlie, in the Thunder jersey.”
“Hi.” She smiled as she climbed in and took the middle seat. “Hi, everyone.” A pause. “What are your names again?”