by M Field
“Bea, um … it’s me, Alex.” You moron jockey. Who else is it going to be? “Can I come in?”
I hear faint rustling, followed by an, “Okay.”
I don’t hesitate to open the door. Bea is stretched out on a yoga mat on her bedroom floor. Super tight leggings and a tight tank cover her body like a second skin. I am officially in hell, again. Well played, karma, well played. While she is positioned on the floor, she curves her back tilting her face towards the ceiling. After a few moments, she flicks her gaze and looks at me.
“You wanted?” Her voice is distant and cold. Yep, time to start digging up and out of hell.
“I just wanted to see if you still wanted to go for a run? I wouldn’t mind jogging this hangover out of me.”
Her eyebrow quirks as her lips tighten in a grimace. She replies, “Oh, that girl didn’t help you with that?”
I ignore her as I continue. “I can show you the track I use. It’s pretty safe but still, I wouldn’t jog around by yourself. I’m happy to go whenever and however often you want.” Pointing my thumb over my shoulder, I say, “Just going to have a quick freshen up and then we can go if you want?”
She is still in that downward dog position and holding my gaze. “Look, I’ll just chill here. I don’t really feel like it anymore.” She brings her hands back and folds her body in half before rolling it up.
I need to fix this. I straighten my shoulders and look at her directly. “Look, Bea, I’m sorry about being a dick about your dress last night. You looked amazing and I was just worried that—”
“That what, Alex? I’d whore myself out?” she slams at me.
“No, not at all, I was worried about the other guys.”
“I already have a brother, I don’t need two,” she snaps. I try really hard not to laugh, as that’s the last way that I would ever feel for her.
“Bea-Bea, you have never been that to me. A friend, yes. A sister? Fuck no.”
“Oh, well, whatever. Anyway, I’ve got some stuff to do, so if you could just …” she says, flicking her fingers towards the door. I feel the sting of rejection but stand firm.
“Bea, I meant what I said about being friends. Can we try, please?” I beg.
She rolls her shoulders and tilts her head from side to side, staring at me for a long moment. I can’t read her expression, but I desperately stare back.
“Yeah, why not?” she softly concedes.
“Look,” I gesture with my hands in front, “I had a lot going on in my head and that girl—” I
watch her flinch, but I keep moving on, “—was a mistake. A stupid, drunken mistake. It was not a nice thing to do considering you’d just moved in. I can’t begin to fathom how shit that would have looked.”
She nods and doesn’t look as upset.
“How about we skip the run today, but maybe head on out tomorrow?” she asks.
I smile, feeling relieved. “Sounds like a plan.”
* * * * *
“I can’t believe you’re trying to outrun me on my own track!” I laugh, running in front of Bea as she tries to overtake me. She had woken before I did and bashed on my door, threatening to throw water on me. Now here we are, running along the track, and I have been laughing most of the way.
“You said the loser gets breakfast, and I don’t want eggs. We’re near Brunswick Street, and I want cake from Babka’s!”
It was great that Bea didn’t care too much about what she ate when she was a teenager and even now, considering she was a dancer, I was glad that she didn’t give a shit about it either.
“Dream on, Twinkle Toes, I’m going to make you eat a greasy breakfast!”
She continues jogging alongside me and nudges me with her elbow. “Like I’d mind that either.” She winks as we continue jogging at an even pace along the track until we reach the main road. Today feels like it did years and years ago. Despite my heavy breathing, my chest feels lighter, and I see it in her face, too. We were slowly getting “us” back. She just didn’t realise what that meant in the long run. But soon she would.
We arrive shortly at the café on the corner and decide that we are too hungry to run another ten minutes for cake. Instead, we are lured in by the smells of a delicious hot breakfast. Neither of us has broken into a sweat, so at least we aren’t going to stink out the café. We take a seat facing the window on the large window seat that faces back onto the road. From here, we can people watch and continue chatting.
“So,” Bea begins, “How’s Lily doing? I saw her briefly yesterday at the mechanic’s, but that’s it.”
I take a sip of my orange juice before answering. “Yeah, she’s good. We catch up for monthly dinners around town. She’s teaching at one of those rough western suburb schools, so it’s good to get her out.”
“Does she like teaching?”
“Yeah, I think so. Her workmates told me that she’s tough in the classroom, though. Would never have thought that.”
“You sound closer now, it’s good.” She adjusts her hair tie and I watch her run her fingers through her ponytail.
“Yeah, since Dad died, we’ve been making an effort. Feels nice to have some close family. Mum is still vapid.” I pick up the saltshaker to keep my hand busy.
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be, I’m used to it. Lily has a boyfriend, too, a complete boring-ass accountant. He’s her ‘safe’, as she tells me. Good old Dad left quite an impression.” I nod tightly, flicking the saltshaker in my hand.
“Well,” Bea intercepts my thoughts, “tell her that I’d love to see her again. Maybe we could have her around for dinner? I can cook.”
I smile at her and nod. The thought of Bea cooking for my sister warms me and gives credence to the possibility that someday it could be a permanent thing.
We continue the light chatter while delving into our eggs and bacon. This is the most relaxed that I have seen Bea since moving in, especially after my dick move Friday night. Watching her smile wide while she speaks about her friends and the latest dance that she can’t wait to conquer, all the while consciously tapping my shoulder or nudging my elbow, makes me feel like I am in the right place, shitty thoughts of my father be damned. Clinging to that hope allows me to think that I am worthy of her, and I hope that it will remain that way.
As we finish up our meals, I look out front and see that it has begun to rain. As is typical in Melbourne, four seasons are likely to strike throughout any given day. For me, though, the rain feels soothing. I wonder if Bea has fond memories of when it rains? Does the gentle tapping of raindrops lull her into the memory of us together? Does the smell of rain remind her of me? Or does she just think, oh, yeah … it’s raining.
I tilt my head towards her and see her gaze longingly at the wet cement. Wow. She remembers? I’m about to tap her shoulder when her eyes turn to meet with mine with such emotion and such longing that it takes my breath away. I can feel the gentle twitch of a smile form on my face, while her chest heaves up and down. She does remember. I look at her eyes then trail my gaze down to her lips, and watch as she rolls her bottom lip in her teeth. A need so fierce lights up my chest and I begin to lean forward to claim those lips. She lets go of her bottom lip in a gentle puff as I inch forward. I have barely shifted when a large arm is suddenly in front of my face.
“Oh! Excuse me,” the waitress appears. “I’m just going to collect these dishes.”
Bea snaps back into a stiff pose, while I can’t hide looking unimpressed at the waitress. She gathers our plates and glasses and then stands straight, looking at both of us,
“Would you like anything else?” Yes, and she’s sitting next to me.
Bea smiles up at her and replies, “No, not at all. We’ll head off now. Thanks!”
She then stands quickly and walks over to the register and pays the bill. All of this happens before I can get my hormones back to normal.
Despite it raining outside, Bea re-ties her hair and says, “You ready?”
I
nod and follow her out the door. We immediately start to run, but this time without the playful banter. She keeps me at a distance as the rain soothes my heated skin. I’ll give you this moment, Bea … but I won’t be waiting for too much longer.
Over the next few weeks, we stumble into a comfortable housemate routine. Running three times a week, interchanging who will cook or clean, all the while developing our friendship. Though, as the time passes, a moment like that one in the café hasn’t resurfaced. Bea seems happy, though, even taking to using the patio above the garage to practise her dances. She doesn’t mind if I’m up there, either; she just continues on. Our childhood friendship is back, but I want the fire of “us” to return. There is only so much of this friend-zone shit that I can take. She consumes my every thought.
I look at my watch and see it is late, and I can’t be bothered cooking; pizza sounds just right. Walking to Bea’s door, and turning the handle, I start asking, “Bea-Bea,” in a high-pitched voice, “you mind if we get p—”
I stop abruptly as I hear a screech and realise all too late that I have sprung Bea getting dressed, or maybe undressed, as she is standing there in her bra and panties, with her arms over her head and a T-shirt covering them and her face. I have maybe a second before she pushes the fabric down, covering her torso. But it’s enough for me to imprint to memory. To see her toned stomach, her perfect bellybutton and those breasts … I try as hard as I can to not lift my wrist and bite my fist to prevent a moan escaping. She is perfection.
“Alex! Can you knock?”
Her words shake me out of my daydream and I am suddenly mortified. “Um, ah … sorry. Just … Fuck.”
I turn abruptly and march out. Pizza be damned. Friend zone–1, Relationship–0. Damn it.
Chapter Nineteen
“I turned round to see where I was,
When a voice said: ‘It is here you come up,’
And took every other thought out of my mind”
Purgatory, XVII; lines 46–49
Trice
The sound of my alarm blares and my eyes barely register the time on the clock. I lay there for a few moments, enjoying the snugness of my bed covers. As I stretch languidly, my mind suddenly awakens as my heart rate picks up and I remember that class today is starting an hour earlier to cater for the guest choreographer from Sydney coming in. Dammit!! With a violent kick of my sheets, I stumble out of bed and frantically begin scouring through my drawers to locate my best racer-back bra and shorts to perform in. I see my red ones sitting by the side and snatch them up. Well, at least I’ll stick out. My yoga pants from yesterday are nearby, so I nab those before I add a tank to the mix. Rushing to the shower, I barely make it to the door without slipping as my feet become tangled while I’m hurrying to get ready.
I’ve barely made it out of the shower before I can hear Alex walking around outside the door. I make a point to be fully dressed before going out. Even though we have been getting along well as housemates, something is still not right with him. He’s unfortunately either walked in on me changing and me doing yoga this week on the patio in just my racer outfits. For a dancer, this is nothing—Regan and I used to walk around in underwear all the time. We’re used to it, but for some reason, Alex becomes super uncomfortable. He tends to look anywhere but at me, while uttering complete rubbish. It’s a bit disheartening as the girls he generally flocks to wear even less than I do.
Here comes that friend vibe in full force.
I throw my hair up in a tight bun and open the door, scurrying to my room to collect my tote. I’m so grateful that I packed it the night before. Throwing my phone in and lacing up my shoes, I rise and scoot out of my room, turning the corner out my door and then crashing smack bang into the solid chest of Alex. We both “oof” as he reaches out and grabs me as I stumble. I’m a bit dazed as my arms grip his forearms and the inner perv in me thinks they feel bigger than they did years ago.
“You okay, Bea?” he inspects my clothing, lets his head fall back, and sighs. “That was quite a hit.” I am still frozen momentarily as his thumbs now caress my shoulders, and I suddenly feel hotter standing here.
Blinking, I activate my brain, “Yeah, sorry ... I ... thought you were waiting for the bathroom and I ...um,” I cough and clear my throat, “I am late for class and was trying to get to the tram. I hate driving as there’s never any parks … and yeah, it just sucks to drive ‘cause of the … parks.” Yep, in times of being mind dazzled by Alex, I have to babble complete crap. Brain to mouth, please shut up. He grins and lets my shoulders go.
“No, I wasn’t waiting. I was just thinking.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys, and jingles them. “How about I drive you?” I look at the Chevy keys and feel instant relief.
“You are a lifesaver! I’ll get there on time if we leave now.” We head out to his truck as a squeal escapes my lips. I have not been in it since I was sixteen. This is going to be awesome.
The car trip flows seamlessly as we stumble into all sorts of idle chitchat like we seem to do lately. I roll the window down and feel the breeze tickle my cheeks as I watch the houses go by. It feels good to be here with him. I’ve really enjoyed our chats and how we’ve spent so much time getting to know each other again. I just wish I could send a memo to my heart to stop yearning for him. The butterflies in my stomach need to calm down, too.
The bench seat is smooth, and I can’t help running my hand up and down the leather in a caress. He keeps this car in such great shape and the smell of the car seats just remind me of his grandpa. Before the thought escapes my mind, I mutter, “You must miss your grandpa.”
He clicks his tongue and sighs. “Yeah, I do.”
We continue driving and the melancholic moment passes graciously.
Thinking over this past week, I can’t help but smile at Alex’s awkwardness. I’d never noticed it growing up, but now it’s just so endearing. Great, another reason to swoon. Each time he’s stumbled across me in my room or doing yoga, he’s managed to get tongue-tied or fumble. It’s awfully embarrassing for him, but shit funny for me. The Alex who I remember as a teenager was confident around girls, and strutted around, oozing sexuality. Yet around me, so far he’s stumbled, run into the doorframe, as well as told me that he was late for work, when in fact it was a Sunday. I don’t understand why he can’t just act normally. He’s made it perfectly clear that I’m just a friend, yet part of me wants to do random strolls to the bathroom in my other dance outfits just to see what he’ll do. I can’t help but chuckle and forget that he’s sitting next to me. He smiles and looks at me quickly.
“What’s got your chuckling over there, Bea-Bea?”
I inwardly sigh at my nickname. “Ah … nothing. It’s just me being silly.”
“Hmm …” he muses, “sure … care to share?”
My face heats up. I don’t feel so brave anymore.
“No, it’s okay, really.” I cover my cheeks in embarrassment.
He notices instantly and starts pecking at me. “C’mon, Bea-Bea! You can tell me … pweeease?”
I lower my hands and give him a look. Should I? Shouldn’t I? His lips pucker in a duck face and I can’t help but laugh. You’ve asked for it. “Well, seeing as it’s such a shock for you to see me in my dance clothes, I contemplated wearing little outfits around the house just to watch you stumble and perhaps crash into something.”
I can’t help but grin; it feels nice having the upper hand in teasing for a change. Winding up the window, I notice that for once he hasn’t replied. I’m in my element, so I keep on going. “You know, just walk around and vacuum or answer the door, daily activities that I don’t care for, but just so you can act like a fool … Geez, Alex, never thought of you as being shy. How times have changed.”
For a moment, I think I’ve embarrassed him, then as I tilt my head over my shoulder to see him, he’s not looking embarrassed. In fact, he’s looking … a whole lot tense. Narrowing my eyes at him, I challenge him with, “Um … care to
explain why you’re clutching the steering wheel so tightly? Are you mad?”
He tilts his chin to the left and I follow its track, seeing the dance studio is in front of us. Oh, that was a quick trip, albeit a little weird just now.
“Oh. Well, thanks for the lift. I should be finished by four or five. I’ll tram back, no need to chauffeur.”
He pulls over as I’m collecting my tote from my feet. “Thanks again.” I smile, clearly trying to lighten up the tension I’ve caused. I grab the door handle but am stopped when his large arm comes across my chest, essentially blocking me in. Our gazes lock.
“Bea,” he says softly, “I like that red underwear you own.”
“I ... ah ... am wearing it... today,” Releasing his arm from the door handle, he gently holds my face while staring intently into my eyes. “I especially like it when you wear your nightgown. That blue one you have on the clothesline? Try putting that one on and see what I’ll do.”
My breath hitches as I stare back into his eyes, my breathing suddenly coming in fast but
shallow breaths. He isn’t joking with me. His eyes have darkened, and his chest is rising rapidly also.
“See you tonight,” he whispers, and his hand cups my cheek. Please, please, please kiss me. Before my impatience takes over and I can move forward to kiss him, he’s leaning back and fastening his seat beat.
What just happened?
“Oh … kay …” I stumble out of the car and give him a mediocre wave as I watch him drive off. Holy shit. He wants me. He actually really wants me. Butterflies begin to awaken in my stomach.
I stare at his car until I can’t see it anymore and feel the serene smile that paints my face. All of the sudden, I feel sixteen again, excited but nervous. My footsteps falter as I try not to let my nerves get to me; it’s too much to handle. I chuckle quietly to myself and gaze longingly in the distance. I’m afraid it’s all a dream.
Walking into class, my feet feel lighter and I can’t get his sizzling blue gaze out of my mind. His lips were a hair’s breadth from mine, and even though we didn’t kiss, I felt a burn like we had. My face is still hot and I just want to grab my phone and call him to take me away. Stupid, I know. I was just glad that my insecurities kept me back. What if I was just another notch on his bedpost? There was no way that I would pursue this only to be left again. He liked my nightgown? I smiled at the cheeky thought. He likes the blue, but he hasn’t seen my black one … will I take the risk? Men make women fools, and Alex knows how to make me the biggest of them all.