The match started. I tried to focus—run, shoot, duck—but my mind kept circling back. The phone call. My father. Alena's address on his lips like a threat.
We lost the game. Not heroically. Not even close. We were in need for a beer to drown our loss of dignity Marcus said. I couldn't agree more. Alcohol would help maybe softening my heart rate after that call in the car.
The conversation at the pub spun on—Lucy talking about her outfit for tomorrow night's burlesque show, a charity fundraiser for women embracing their sexuality and challenging the perception of being sexualized objects, Marcus placing bets on who'd get the loudest applause—but my headache only got worse.
I needed fresh air. I dragged Marcus outside.
The sky was clear, bright, peaceful. Silence.
"Why are you not with her, man?" Marcus asked, no filter.
"Dude..."
"Why? Because you're too much of a pussy?"
My eyes snapped open. My heart stopped.
"Alena is my friend."
"Yeah, right. I shower with my friends all the time. Cut the crap."
"It's a seventeen-year friendship, man. Normal for us."
"Is it now?"
"It's not an everyday thing."
A beat of silence.
"So... how is Alena in the shower? Does the water run against her skin softly? Does it touch her nipp—"
"Shut it."
My hand was at his throat before I could think. I wanted to punch him dead. His smirk was a death wish. No one talked about Alena like that. No one thought about her like that. How dare he? Did he think about her at night? When he was alone? When he held her back?
I'd kill him.
"Relax, man."
"Don't you ever, Marcus," I warned, voice deadly quiet.
Another silence while I fought to calm down. I removed my hand from his throat. My pulse was still hammering,knuckles white. One more word and I'd have put him through the wall. Not because he was wrong.
Because he was right.
"Man, you sleep in the same bed. You share a shower. You watch movies with her almost naked on your lap."
"So?"
"Man, are you stupid or just fucking entitled?"
"Look, Marcus, physical intimacy is easy for us and you know it. Do you remember when you met us?"
"Oh, yeah, the glorious starving days."
No glory about it. We met Marcus after six months of being homeless. Me and Alena on a piece of cardboard under a bridge where the only warmth came from each other. Her body curled into mine, small shivers I couldn't stop with just my arms. I held her through her period cramps, hand pressed low on her belly like I could take the pain if I tried hard enough.
So yeah, sleeping tight with someone for six months, holding her through the cold when her period struck and I had to find money for pads while she was in so much pain she couldn't even stand—yes, physical touch was easy. Natural.
