“I’m sorry I asked you to make love to me, Guy-Guy.” Isqueezed my eyes shut, not really wanting to see his reaction. I heard him crack a grin, and I knew without looking what that grin looked like.
“Why would you be sorry for that?”
“Guy, we haven’t even really talked in years.”
“I know. That’s my fault. But it’s time for us to start again,” he said, patting my side. “I do still love you, you know.”
“Obviously. You took care of my sorry ass last night.”
He shrugged. “That’s what friends are for. I’m glad I saw you.”
I was nervous to ask my next question. “Guy, who changed me into these clothes? I don’t have any underwear on.”
“Nothing happened,ma puce. You puked on your clothes after we got out of the car. I had my roommate’s girlfriend change you.” He must have seen the fear in my eyes. “I would never let anything like that happen to you, Kitty. That’s why I took you out of that party. I didn’t like how those guys were looking at you. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. If you want to bang guys, go for it, but I want you to make that decision when you can speak for yourself.”
Tears filled my eyes. How was he simultaneously like a big brother, a boyfriend, and a best friend all in one? “Thank you,” I whispered.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, pulling me into his chest. His chest hair scratched under his shirt as I nestled in. “You’re safe. Nothing happened.”
“But it could have!”
“I made plenty of dumb mistakes when I was a freshman,” he told me. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Please don’t tell Frank. He’ll kill me.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,ma puce.”
Guy held me there while hang-xiety wracked my brain and body.
“Guy?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
His warm laugh rumbled through his chest where my head was still buried. “I know. You told me about a thousand times last night.”
“Oh, God,” I moaned.
“Don’t feel bad. It was sweet. I feel bad for how long I waited to see you.”
“It’s fine. I knew you were here, but I wanted to get my own footing. I didn’t come here for you.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he said, patting my hair. But instead of it being the condescending sweetheart that Southern moms use, it sounded like he really meant the endearment. Huh. “I didn’t think you did. You hungry, or do you want to watch something?”
“Let’s watch. I’m not ready for food.”
Guy pulled his laptop into the bed and opened one of our old favorite comedy specials. He spooned me, resting his head on his hand behind me.
What an unusual relationship we had. We kissed, I got humiliated. He apologized. We stayed friends. We had some more kisses. We still said “I love you” in those few interactions we had between Eva dying and me seeing him at the party. I don’t think either of us was sure if it was romantic or friend love. It was some bizarre hybrid of the two.
I was obviously attracted to him, but it was the dangerous kind of attraction, like a moth to a flame. I wasn’t sure if he still cared about me the same way. His reputation on campus preceded him. He slept around constantly. I was a fool to hope for anything lasting with him. My little moth self was fixing to get her wings burned right up. So to keep myself safe, I assumed we were just friends, while still dancing that line of something more.
Snuggly friends. That’s a thing that happens, right?
“No funny business, playboy,” I warned. “I’m too fragile.”
“No slut shaming, remember,” he teased. “I’ll be a gentleman.”
