The Play: Briar U

by Kennedy, Elle

  “Thanks so much for doing this,” Corinne says, a bit shyly.

  I slide a heavy cable-knit sweater onto a hanger. “Of course. You know this kind of stuff is my jam. Plus we’re friends. Friends don’t let friends clean closets alone.”

  Her answering smile is brimming with gratitude.

  Corinne’s a tough nut to crack sometimes. She’s very pretty, and there’s a constant stream of guys chasing after her, but she’s selective about who she dates. She’s antisocial, quiet at times, but her sarcasm is top-notch and when she relaxes her guard she’s a lot of fun.

  “This apartment is super cute,” I tell her. “I love how massive the bedroom is.” It’s almost as big as my room at the sorority house, and I lucked out in the random draw and snagged the master.

  My phone buzzes on Corinne’s double bed. I grab it and discover a message from Hunter.

  HUNTER: Did you watch the Bruins game last night??

  In one of our previous text exchanges, he’d been raving about some game on TV, and I’d mentioned I’d be sure to start watching hockey. I don’t think he picked up on the sarcasm.

  ME: Oh ya! It was INTENSE! I can’t believe that player scored nineteen points!!!

  HIM: You didn’t watch it, did you?

  ME: No. Sorry. Told you, I don’t care for hockey.

  HIM: I expected more from my therapist. Goodbye.

  There’s a long pause.

  HUNTER: Fuck, wait, I texted for a reason. We still holding our session at the gym today?

  ME: Yep. After I’m done with dinner. So around 8? Oh, and make sure you’re wearing tight spandex pants so I can objectify you.

  HIM: Obvs.

  I grin at the screen.

  “The hockey player again?” Corinne asks.

  “Yeah.” Chuckling, I shake my head indulgently. “He’s so full of himself. But really hot. I’d set you up with him, but he doesn’t have sex.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “He’s practicing abstinence for a while.” I hope it’s not a secret, but just in case, I don’t offer any further details. “Hey, what’s your Wi-Fi network? I’m trying to join it.”

  “Oh, I haven’t set up the Wi-Fi yet. They’re coming on Friday to do it.”

  I’m about to put my phone away when another message comes in.

  TJ: Are we still on for dinner?

  ME: Oh yeah. Sushi baby!!!!

  I punctuate that with three fish emojis. TJ counters with a couple of shrimp, and then we’re sending each other random sea-life emojis that make me giggle.

  ME: Did you realize there’s no lobster emoji?? WTH!

  TJ doesn’t respond, so I set the phone down and begin folding the pile of T-shirts on Corinne’s mattress. “I feel like these should all go in your dresser,” I suggest. “Hanging T-shirts is a waste of hangers.”

  “Agreed. Let’s hang the stuff that might wrinkle, and then dresses, skirts—”

  My phone buzzes again. TJ just sent a picture of a cartoon lobster with hearts in his eyes, and a speech bubble above his head that reads: “I WANT TO GET MY CLAWS INTO YOU!”

  I burst out laughing. “Sorry,” I tell Corinne. “TJ is sending memes.”

  “You have like a gazillion male friends. Meanwhile, I can’t even deal with one.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how you do it. All those fragile egos… They’re all just little boys in need of attention.” She gasps in delight. “You know who you are? You’re Wendy with all the Lost Boys!”

  “Sounds about right,” I say dryly. “But I love my Lost Boys. They’re a constant source of entertainment.” I fold another T-shirt. “TJ and I are grabbing dinner in town tonight. We’re trying out the new Japanese place that opened across from the theater. Wanna come?”

  “I can’t. I’m hosting a study group here later. It’s just you and TJ? No Nico?”

  “Nico is playing basketball with Darius and then meeting up with some guys from work for drinks. You probably met them when they helped you move.”

  “I met two.” She thinks it over. “One was really cute, and one was really bald.”

  I snicker. “The bald one is Steve, and I think the cute one…it was probably Roddy? Short for Rodrigo. But I think he has a girlfriend.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Yeah right. You don’t even want a boyfriend.”

  “True.”

  I carry the stack of neatly folded shirts to Corinne’s secondhand wooden dresser. “Come on, let’s put all this random stuff away and then dive back into the closet. The closet is the fun part.”

  “The things that bring you joy…” She sighs. “You’re so fucking weird, Demi.”

  I spend a couple more hours with Corinne, then walk the short distance into the heart of town. TJ meets me at the sushi place, which ends up being phenomenal, so naturally I text my boyfriend all about it on the Uber ride back to campus, because good food gets me excited and when I’m excited I must share it with Nico.

  NICO: I think u devalue the currency of the orgasm whenever u call a meal “orgasmic.”

  ME: Well, I think you underappreciate good food. And that’s practically a crime b/c you’re Cuban and food is in your blood.

  HIM: Nah.

  ME: I’m telling your mom you said that.

  HIM: Don’t u dare.

  ME: I’m hitting the gym soon. Be home around 9. Wanna come by after you’re done with the boys?

  HIM: Prolly not, bb. Think we’re gonna go back to Steve’s and have a Fortnite marathon.

  I’m only a smidge disappointed. We didn’t have plans, so I can’t fault him for wanting to continue hanging out with his friends, the people he originally had plans with.

  ME: OK. Have fun! Love you.

  NICO: Love u too bb <3 <3 <3 <3

  * * *

  “I miss blowjobs,” Hunter declares at the gym an hour later.

  The forlorn assertion triggers a burst of laughter from me, which nearly results in me tripping on the treadmill. It’s been a week since we’ve seen each other, and obviously his monk status is still solidly intact.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell him.

  “Don’t apologize to me, apologize to my dick.”

  Snorting, I dip my gaze south. Not gonna lie—his package is kind of impressive beneath his black track pants. I make a magnanimous gesture at his crotch. “I’m sincerely sorry for your recent troubles, Hunter’s dick.”

  Hunter’s dick’s owner nods soberly. “He appreciates the sentiment.”

  This fucking guy. He is either the best or the worst. I still haven’t decided.

  With that said, he’s definitely the worst gym buddy. For the past forty minutes, we’ve been side-by-side on our respective treadmills without altering the brisk pace. But now I’m waning. It’s an admission of defeat when I flick my finger on the incline button to make the workout a bit easier.

  Mr. Hockey Star has barely broken a sweat. A slight sheen coats his forehead and that’s about it. Meanwhile, I’m a sweaty mess. Thank God I’m not romantically interested in him, otherwise I’d be incredibly self-conscious and embarrassed about perspiring this much. Even Nico hasn’t seen me at my sweatiest.

  “Aww, does someone need a break?” Hunter mocks.

  “Nope, just a flatter path.”

  “Wimp.”

  “Monk.”

  “You gotta stop using that as an insult. Some people consider my celibacy admirable.”

  “Says the guy who’s moaning about missing blowjobs.”

  “Oh, like you wouldn’t miss it if the boyfriend stopped going down on you.”

  “Not really,” I say before I can stop myself. And I regret it instantly. I’m not a fan of locker room talk, especially involving my boyfriend. So what if Nico isn’t an oral genius? That doesn’t mean he doesn’t possess other exceptional qualities.

  Unfortunately, Hunter heard me loud and clear. Even as his head swivels my way, the rest of his body doesn’t miss a step, his long legs eating up the treadmill. “Uh
oh. My man Nico’s not doing it for you with his tongue?”

  “No, he is.”

  “Yeah? Didn’t sound like it just now.”

  “Whatever, not everyone is great at oral,” I grumble. “Practice makes perfect, right?”

  Hunter appears to be trying not to laugh. “Haven’t you guys been together for like ten years?”

  “Eight,” I say grudgingly. “We officially started dating when we were thirteen.”

  “And he still hasn’t mastered the art of eating pussy?” Incredulity lines his tone.

  “Don’t be crude.”

  “Fine, would you like me to call it cunnilingus?”

  Ugh, that word is truly unappealing. Who even came up with it? “Look, I’m not saying he’s awful at it. Honestly, I think it’s me. I’m just not interested in it.”

  “Have you ever gotten oral from anyone else?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know it’s you?” Hunter challenges. “A hundred bucks says he just sucks at going down on chicks. How much time does he spend down there?”

  My cheeks are on fire. “Not a lot.” I hurry on in Nico’s defense, “I think he’s too impatient to get inside me.”

  “But the anticipation is half the fun,” Hunter protests.

  I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. Even if it is him, he does amazing things when he’s in me, and his finger game is pretty sweet. We can’t all be good at everything, right?”

  “I can,” Hunter says smugly.

  “Mmm-hmmm, I’m sure you’re phenomenal in bed. Men who brag about their sexual prowess always are.”

  “I am. Too bad you’ll never find out.”

  “Me and every other girl, Monk.”

  He rolls his eyes. His pace remains brisk. How is he carrying an entire conversation without getting breathless? Me, I’m struggling to talk and run at the same time. Damn athletes.

  “Anyway, despite his very disappointing failings, Nico seems like a cool dude,” Hunter relents. “He’s funny.”

  “He’s hilarious. And yes, he is a cool dude.”

  “Minus the subpar oral skills, of course.”

  “They’re not subpar. They’re par.”

  “What an endorsement!”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “You shut up.” Hunter flashes that devilish grin of his. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him you said that. It would crush his ego.”

  “Everything you and I talk about falls under doctor-patient confidentiality,” I say firmly.

  “You got it, Doc.”

  A woman in tight workout gear meanders over and starts doing squats directly in our line of sight. One might think her choice of location is unintentional, if not for the fact that in the mirror across the room, her thirsty gaze is super-glued to Hunter.

  He notices the admirer and gives me a wink. She’s not the first female to try to catch his attention this evening, and I’m sure she won’t be the last. It’s ironic that he’s celibate, because any chick in this fitness center would happily have sex with him. In the gym. In front of everyone.

  “I can’t believe Nico’s the only person you’ve ever slept with,” Hunter muses.

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Wrong? Nothing. It’s just surprising.”

  “We’ve been together forever—when would I have had the opportunity to sleep around?”

  “You never cheated? Ever?”

  “Never. There were some breaks over the years, but I never slept with anyone else.”

  He cocks one eyebrow defiantly. “You’re saying you didn’t hook up at all during those breaks?”

  “I kissed some guys,” I admit with a shrug.

  “Because that isn’t the vaguest response I’ve ever heard.”

  “God, you’re so frickin’ nosy. Fine. I kissed three other guys, and there may have been some petting during one of those encounters.”

  “Light or heavy?”

  “Light. Didn’t go beyond second base. He wanted to do more, but I felt like I was betraying Nico.”

  “Really? You should’ve gone for it. Because I hate to break it to you, but I guarantee that Nico was going beyond second base.”

  “I know he was. He and I are honest with each other. Plus, on one of the breaks I saw him making out with some girl at a party. That’s what led to me fooling around with the light petting guy.” I hesitate. “And I know Nico slept with someone else, at least once.”

  “At least?” Hunter’s sneakers slap the treadmill as he increases his pace. Ugh. He’s running faster now! And he’s still not even breathing hard. It’s unbelievable.

  I’m moving at a snail-paced walk by this point, and I’m not even on the cool-down setting. “I know there was one hook-up for sure, because he told me about it. But… I think he cheated on me once,” I confess, and then chastise myself for it.

  It’s one thing to critique your boyfriend’s oral skills, but opening the closet and letting the skeletons tumble out? That’s crossing a line.

  “Do not tell anyone I said that.”

  Hunter is smart enough to recognize I’m serious. “You really believe he cheated on you?”

  I jerk my head in a nod. This isn’t a subject I particularly enjoy dwelling on. “The summer before senior year, I visited him in Miami and a bunch of us went on a camping trip to the Everglades. Well, not really camping. More like glamping.”

  “Booooo!” Hunter exclaims instantly, giving me two thumbs down.

  The woman who’s shaking her butt in our faces glances over her shoulder to see what the commotion is, but Hunter doesn’t even look her way.

  “Nope, nope, nope,” he announces. “You’re not allowed to be one of those girls, Semi.”

  “I don’t believe in outhouses, okay? I prefer camping in a place with walls and a toilet and Wi-Fi and—”

  “That’s not camping!”

  “Exactly. It’s glamping, like I said.”

  “Boooooo!”

  “Will you please stop booing me?”

  “Just when I was starting to like you, I find out you’re a spoiled Miami brat who refuses to sleep in a tent.”

  “Do you want to hear the rest of the story or no?”

  His expression quickly turns eager. “Oh, I really do. But only if you want to tell me.”

  For some inexplicable reason, I do want to tell him. I’d only ever confided in one other person about it: Amber, my best friend in Miami. And she told me I was being paranoid.

  “One of our friends brought his cousin Rashida on the trip, and I’m telling you, this chick would not stop flirting with Nico. It was starting to piss me off, so I—” I stop abruptly.

  “You what?” Hunter demands.

  I make a grumbling sound. “I may or may not have told her that if she didn’t stop hitting on my man, I’d drown her in the lake and leave her body for the gators.”

  For the first time in sixty-two minutes, Hunter’s gait stutters. He grabs the handrail to steady himself, but the laughter shaking his body doesn’t subside. “Fuck. You’re a psychopath, Davis. I knew it.”

  “Nah, I stole that killing method from an episode of Cheerleaders Who Kill. I’m not creative enough to plan a gruesome murder. Anyway, this Rashida chick was so predatory and so obvious about it that she needed the reminder that he had girlfriend. God knows he wasn’t acting like it. I felt like he was encouraging the flirting, which annoyed me even more. We started arguing about it and Nico got pissy, announced he was taking a walk, and disappeared for a few hours.”

  “A few hours?” Hunter narrows his eyes. “Let me guess, Rashida disappeared about the same time?”

  “Good guess. She claimed she drove into town to buy snacks, and the cupboard in the cabin was restocked, so maybe she did. But I still found it suspicious.”

  “Hell yeah, it was suspicious.”

  “I confronted Nico and he insisted he was alone in the woods and hadn’t seen or spoken to Rashida in hours. He told me I was being ridiculous and overr
eacting, and freaked out on me so hard that I felt guilty for making the accusation and ended up apologizing to him for a whole year afterward.” I frown deeply. “I want to believe he didn’t do anything, but…”

  “But you don’t,” Hunter finishes.

  “I don’t. And I feel like an asshole for it.”

  “You shouldn’t. Always trust your gut, Demi. If people are acting shady it’s usually because they’ve done something shady. And the fact that he lost his shit and yelled at you speaks volumes. Guilty people attack. Innocent people don’t.”

  “Maybe, but…whatever, this was years ago. We were kids.” I shrug. “We’re in our twenties now and it’s in the past.”

  “Is something like that ever truly in the past?” Hunter’s voice becomes gruff. “I feel like an incident like that would always lurk in the back of my mind. Like, let’s say Summer changed her mind and decided she liked me and not Fitz after all? It’d be niggling at me for our entire relationship—does she actually want me, is she thinking about him right now, that kinda shit. I think it’s better to…” He makes a snipping motion with his fingers. “Cut it off. Start fresh. If a well runs dry or goes bad, you dig a new one, right? You don’t drink from the poisoned water.”

  I snort. “You know much about wells, Connecticut boy?”

  “You don’t need firsthand experience with something to use it as a metaphor.” Hunter’s expression turns pensive. “But, look, Nico does seem like a decent guy, and he’s obviously in love with you, if that makes you feel better.”

  “It does, actually.” I appreciate impartial third-party observations. They mean more than the false assurances and platitudes you tend to receive from people who love you.