My girl is dirty.
I scoop her up and take her to the bathroom where I clean her up. Afterwards, I carry her back to my bedroom where I lay her down gently. Her purple hair fans out against the pillows and the urge hits me to thank the Lord for this angel in my bed. But since I’m not a weirdo, I lay next to her instead.
We face each other. I’m stroking the skin on her hip and she is tracing my five o’clock shadow with her soft, warm palm. This moment feels huge. My heart is pounding because I’m terrified of what it means. Am I ready for that kind of commitment? And what of Cam? Is she ready to tell me the truth about him?
“This can’t mean anything,” she whispers sadly.
I want to fight her on it, because, goddammit, it means everything. I should say something, anything, but I let my fears cripple me once again, and I nod my assent, kiss her on the nose and cuddle into her. A relieved breath escapes her, and she snuggles into my warmth. Soon, we both drift off to sleep.
I chickened out tonight. I just hope when the moment presents itself again, that we’ll both be ready, because I feel like the Universe is telling us, “This is going to happen.”
Or is that me whispering those words to a sleeping Savi…?
Savi – Past
Fear. Fear is what made me tell that blatant lie. How could I say that it can’t mean anything when what we did was everything? God, I must be some kind of stupid. Is it wrong to have wanted him to fight with me? To tell me and (my ruse of a relationship with) Cam to fuck off and finally make me his? I shouldn’t be upset that he didn’t argue; he did just as I asked.
But damn, is it too much to ask for a little dissent?
Sleep has pulled me down into its murky depths; much as I want to savor being in my best friend’s arms. And I don’t know if I dream it, but his words set my heart ablaze…
“This is going to happen.”
Chapter Twenty Four – This Tea is Piping Hot!
Savi – Present
SLEEPLESSNESS IS A pain in the ass. Never mind that the reason I am now sleepless is because my ringing cell phone startled me out of a brown haired, brown eyed man haunting my dreams with talented lips and masterful hands. I’d woken up some time after four a.m. with a dull ache between my legs and wetness. I’d either peed myself or I’d been having a wet dream.
Definitely peed myself.
I don’t even know why I would have been having a dream about our last time together. It was two years ago, but in the dream, it felt like only yesterday. It was a struggle to not look at him and remember that night in Vegas for a long time, but eventually, I got my libido under control around him enough to repair our friendship. This dream only served to awaken feelings in me that I’d long since suppressed.
I guess in the days, weeks, months and years to come, that’s all I’ll be able to do when Kyle gets married. Dream.
I’d answered the unknown caller and heard nothing on the end. I’d been getting those calls a few times in the past three months and I assumed it was the wrong number, so I always hung up after a few seconds. Tonight had not been one of those nights where I would.
“Listen to me, you piece of shit,” I’d threatened. “If you’re going to kill me, do it the fuck already. I’m not getting any younger.”
A soft, feminine voice had stumbled out a drunken apology and hung up and I felt terrible. Poor girl was probably nursing a broken heart in a bottle of Jack. I knew the feeling.
After I’d gotten my heartrate down (and the ache between my legs had eased), I dragged myself to the bathroom where I took an extra-long, cold shower. Afterwards, I’d fixed myself some cereal and sat and watched reruns of those friends from New York.
Laughter is truly the best medicine. It helped me to trick the pain in my heart for a few hours before I had to drag myself up to get ready for work.
As the second hour of binge watching passed, I heard glass shattering and flew out of bed where I spotted a rock below my window with glass everywhere. I’d looked through the shattered pane to see if I saw anyone, but all I saw was a blonde head ducking into a car I couldn’t see and speeding away. Motherfucker.
To say I’ve had a fucked-up morning would be an understatement.
“You look like something the cat dragged in,” Becky observes as I join her at her table for breakfast. I’d texted her earlier wanting to meet up.
“Well, fuck of the mornin’ to you too,” I grumble, rolling my eyes.
Her eyes widen in surprise, but her lips tremble trying to keep from smiling. I huff at her and she breaks, spilling out a fit of giggles. I wish I could hate her, but she’d probably still laugh her ass off. Her mirth is so contagious that I roll up a napkin and throw it at her, chuckling at the misfortunes of my morning.
“Talk to me, babe,” she implores, grasping my hands across the table.
Sighing, I tell her about the phone call that woke me up, the insomnia that resulted, and then the shattering of my window.
“Shit, did you call the police, babe?” she probes, a worried look on her face.
“No,” I answer, shaking my head. “I kind of think it’s my neighbor messing with me. She hates me and the feeling is mutual, but if she continues to fuck with me, she’s going to get these hands.”
Becky chuckles and I stare at her blankly. “Oh, you’re serious,” she mutters. “Promise me to take it up with your building manager first before you beat her ass.”
I nod my answer, promising not to run Coralene over with my car…for now.
A waitress comes to take our breakfast orders and we place it quickly, already knowing what we want. She pours us coffee and then hustles off to get our meals ready. I wrap my fingers around the mug, staring into the dark liquid, hoping it gives me some courage. I’ve been contemplating whether I should tell Becky the real reason for my insomnia. I was hoping for a chill breakfast, but this revelation will make our meeting anything but.
“You know who ran across my mind the other day?” I change tactic, relaxing myself before I drop this bomb.
“Who’s that?” she takes the bait.
“Mrs. Fincher…”
“Oh, my God!” Becky exclaims. “I haven’t thought about her or that moving wig of hers in ages! I don’t think I’ve even seen her since we left Rainier.”
“Dude, I heard she retired and moved to Boca and her daughter lives in the house up on Fulson Street,” I tell her.
“Shit, she had a kid?”
I nod repeatedly. “Blew my mind, too.”
“Oh, wait, guess who I saw?” she hurriedly adds and answers before I even attempt, “Fucking Sarah-Sue whatever the fuck her surname is.”
“The fuck? I thought for sure she’d be a famous Hollywood starlet by now or at the very least some rich guy’s side piece,” I quip.
“Try knocked up by another guy while she’s getting a divorce! And get this – the baby daddy is none other than Rex Lawton!” Becky reveals and I almost swallow my tongue from sheer shock.
“This tea is piping hot!” We burst into laughter at my commentary.
Becky and I chatter away at this latest piece of gossip even when the waitress lays our plates down and tops up our coffee. Before we know it, an hour has passed and we’re full to the brim of French toast, eggs and bacon, and other people’s mess. I’m fully aware that I’m a hypocrite for not adding my mess to the pot of stirred shit.
“Is there something else you want to tell me? You look like you’re about to throw up into your coffee,” Becky says, titling her head to look at me. Ugh, how does she always know I’m hiding something?
I gnaw on my bottom lip, then bring the coffee to my mouth to take a sip. Her light blue eyes assess me, and it feels like she can see right through me. Can she see my guilt? Fuck. Why do I feel like a teenager being caught red-handed instead of a grown ass woman…caught red-handed?
Like ripping off a Band-Aid… “I slept with Kyle.”
She chokes on a cough, her eyes widening in surprise. “Last nigh
t?”
“Two years ago?” I wince, shrinking away from the truth of my words.
“Two. Years. You hid this from me for two years?” Her voice rises at the end and I cringe.
“Yeah?”
“Just tell me one thing: does my dumbass husband know about it?” She looks at me with slits for eyes as she anticipates my answer.
“No!” I respond, a little too loudly. Then I rethink my answer. “I don’t think he knows.” And then I rethink my answer again. “If he knows, he wouldn’t have heard it from me.”
Satisfied, Becky nods. “Okay, fair enough. Now…” she pauses, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Tell me everything, and I do mean everything. No detail left behind.”
I groan and signal the waitress to refill our coffees. I’ve replayed the events of that night many times over the years. Mostly at nights. With a vibrator.
You know…normal shit.
I finish recounting the details of two years ago, and I hold my breath waiting for Becky’s response. Flames lick at my cheeks and I look everywhere but at her. Talking with my best female friend about sex with my best male friend isn’t awkward at all. It’s not.
“Jesus,” someone whispers from behind me, and my head whips around to see the entire restaurant staring at us.
Shoot me now.
“That was fucking hot,” one guy says, openly adjusting himself and heat races up my neck, making me bury my face in my hands.
Hello, mortification.
“Hey, mind your businesses!” Becky commands and the small audience disperses.
We’re silent for a few agonizing seconds. I peek through the slats of my fingers to see Becky observing me with a smirk on her lips. I drop my hands and cut my eyes at her. “Out with it before it eats you alive, bitch,” I grumble.
“To quote Nosey McNoserson over there,” she starts. “That was fucking hot.”
I groan and drop my forehead to the table. It really was fucking hot; a fact that haunts me every time I am in the same place as Kyle.
“Honey,” she calls softly. I turn my head, giving her one of my eyes as I look at her. “Why’d you say it can’t mean anything when it obviously means something?” The million-dollar question.
I ask myself that question every time. “I was scared,” I answer in a small voice that is so unlike me and sit up. “I had the perfect opportunity to come clean about Cam, about my feelings for him, and I choked. All these questions reared their ugly heads: ‘How do you know that taking that leap is the right one? Do you really want to risk your friendship?’ So, I didn’t.”
Becky’s silent for a moment. She looks sad and like she is about to throw up a whole lot of sympathy for me and the situation I’ve found myself in. It makes me uncomfortable. Unrequited love is the kind of love that hurts so bad that it leaves bruises, but not the kind anyone can see. It leaves you battered, broken, yet battling for any modicum of attention from the person you yearn to love you the way you love them.
It’s dangerous. It’s destructive. And I’m done floundering in it.
“And,” I continue, staring deep into my coffee cup, as if it will give me the answers to life and its complexities. “I guess I just stopped fighting. I’m always the one fighting for what we could be, demanding that he choose me. He’s had plenty chances over the years, Becky, and he’s never tried.”
That’s the most depressing truth. Kyle has had the power all along to make things happen for us and he’s never made a move. I don’t need to know why when it’s obvious; especially now when he’s getting married. Kyle loves me as his best friend. Nothing less and never anything more. I just need to accept this and finally move on with my life.
“But have you really been fighting, though?” And I know she’s talking about Cam. It stings, but I take her honesty in stride.
“Does it even matter at this point?” He’s getting married after all.
“Has it ever occurred to either of you that this pull is never going to go away, and that maybe you guys keep fighting because you’re forcing a friendship that was meant to be more?”
I’m silent, because it’s something to think about.
“What if…” She pauses, chewing her lip as she mulls over what to say. “What if he feels the same way?”
“I think I know in some kind of way that he feels something for me, Becky,” I answer honestly, and I think he knows I feel something for him too. “But right now, there’s just no chance. We missed our chance so many times. I’ve been trying to accept that this is what it is, what it has to be with us. I’m helping him plan his wedding for Christ’s sake!”
Becky looks away guiltily and I stay quiet because that is how I’ve been feeling all this time. Guilty and a little ruined.
“Hypothetically,” she suggests, chewing on her bottom lip – an action I’ve come to know as her tell when she’s nervous. “What if he comes to his senses and wants to marry you instead?”
It’s a strange question and I hate that it makes hope flutter in my chest. “I’m not going to torture myself with what-ifs, Becky,” I bite out.
“Just…humor me,” she implores. “If Kyle wanted to marry you instead, what would you do?”
My lip trembles, knowing the truth with every fiber of my being. If I could choose a life partner, it would be him. Always him. A tear slips down my cheek as the answer bursts from my lips.
“I’d marry him without hesitation.” A fact I’ve known since I was sixteen years old.
Savi – Past
16 years old
Rainier High just lost their first baseball game of the season. Everyone has been in a somber mood ever since. I tried to see my best friend, Kyle, after the game but his Dad was talking to him. I caught his eye and he shook his head a little, telling me without telling me – “not now”.
His dad didn’t look very happy. I didn’t know why. Kyle was great, despite him making one out of two homeruns. I know Rainier is the better team compared to Larkland High, but today was just an off day. I walked away from the scene reluctantly and my parents took me home. I’ve been texting him since I got in, hoping he’s okay.
An hour after I get in, I put my cell phone down, accepting that I won’t be hearing from my best friend for the rest of the evening. Plugging in my earbuds, I turn my iPod on and find the song that asks me a very important question: what’re you waiting for? Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m waiting for. I mean, our couple name is already better than most of the celebrity ones out there.
What even is a Bennifer?
Not built to last is what it is.
I doodle in the new design book Kyle got me, tracing and retracing Kylannah on the inside cover. The name gives me such a buzz and I bite my lip as butterflies take flight in my belly. This boy is everything to me. Who knew I could be boy crazy?
As the song ends and another one starts, I hear a tap on my window. Plucking the buds out as the rapper asks me to sing for the moment, my eyes flit to the window where I see my best friend straddling the huge tree limb outside my window. He is like a beautiful apparition before me. So unexpected. So remarkable in his own way. What a moment to sing for…
When I just moved here, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Yeah, we would’ve been closer to family, but I was leaving my old neighborhood, my old friends (it was just two, but still) and my old house with fifteen years’ worth of memories.
To say I wasn’t happy would be an understatement.
But when I saw this huge tree at the side of the house, all I could see was me stepping out onto it and enjoying all nature had to offer me while I was in it. Seeing Kyle out there now, his boyishness draped on the limb in that cool way of his, I realize that this function of the tree is so much better than the one I’d initially envisioned.
Gliding over to the window, I lift it open. He’s still in his baseball garb, minus his baseball cap, and he looks sad, but still so hot. “Hey, you,” I whisper.
“Hey.”
He doesn’t s
ay anything else, so I perch on the windowsill, dragging my knees up to my chin. The wind ruffles his hair and he puffs out a breath, his pink lips begging me to kiss them. Or I think they are. He looks at me and I quickly avert my eyes back to my feet. I hope he didn’t catch me ogling him.
Movement catches my eye and I flick my gaze to see him scratching the back of his neck and not-so-discreetly sniffing his armpits. My tummy flips as I recognize his nervous tell. Why would the Kyle Moxam be nervous around me?
“Hey, you wanna go for a ride to the Cape?” he suggests, and it’s the first time I see his eyes light up since he’s been here.
So, of course, I say yes. “I’ve never been,” I admit, and he rewards me with a dimpled smile, knocking the wind out of me.
“I’m glad I’m giving you this first,” he says, and I duck my head. That’s not the first I want him to give me…
Moments later, we’re racing each other to Cape Aventura, laughing like loons. When we pull up, we’re out of breath just from laughing alone. We secure our bikes to the bike rails and Kyle swings a bag I didn’t realize he had, over his shoulder. He tugs me towards the lighthouse, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip at the tingles I feel at contact. This boy has butterflies working overtime.
We don’t talk as we climb over the chain link fence that is supposed to block us from entering the lighthouse after six p.m. We are officially trespassing. Excitement thrills through me and I feel so badass doing this. It occurs to me that Kyle doesn’t break rules – not like me, at least. I suspect the conversation with his dad didn’t go well, and my heart hurts for him. I rub the ache there, sadness seeping into our crime.
“Breaking and entering,” I muse with a smirk to my lips when we get to the top of the lighthouse. “What happened to clean cut, Kyle Moxam?”
“He met a purple-haired hellion named Savannah Carpenter,” he counters with a smile, plopping down and dangling his feet over the edge. “You know her?” He reaches a hand out to me, inviting me to sit next to him.
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