I should have walked away, given her privacy, but I couldn’t. Or I didn’t.
My body acted on its own, gluing me against the wall beside her door, verifying what I heard was real. Sure as shit, Bri was getting herself off.
The quiet hum of a vibrator, her frantic breaths and sounds of pleasure tickled my ears and sent my blood south. I intended to walk away, but it happened before I could. She came, her moan a loud, tapering note like that of a song as she muffled herself.
I snapped back into reality, fleeing back to the bathroom. I was still missing my conditioner and had gained the unwelcome company of an erection. I leaned my palms onto the counter and glared at myself in the mirror, trying to will it away by shaming myself.It didn’t work. I rubbed one out in the shower—quietly—deciding to wash my hairtomorrow.
Bri is a sexual creature—something for which I have mad respect. I never want her to feel ashamed to enjoy herself in what was supposed to be the privacy of her own room. The most embarrassing part of it all is admitting to myself that it made me want to join her.
Me, the person who has felt attraction towards less than a handful of people my entire life. She is the only real friend I’ve made in years, the realest friend I’ve probably ever had. I trust her, she isobjectively beautiful, and when we talked at dinner the night before last, I could have sworn she was into me. But like she said, I can’t tell the difference between closeness and affection.
If I admit how I’m feeling, there’s a massive chance I will get it twisted, fall for her, and ruin everything we have in a few minutes.
Telling her I’m working for her ex might do the same.
I’ve been staring at the email for the last ten minutes, David’s name staring at me from the CC line. The moment I hit Send, it will mean I might have to look at his face again next week and lie to Bri yet again. Lying by omission, but lying all the same. How I wish I could blow off this account and still get to stay here with her.
I click Send and make it Monday Liem’s problem. My messenger app chimes.
Sai: How was the meeting?
Me: It went well but they’re not giving in yet. They want more for less money.
Rich people can be cheap as hell. I suppose that’s what helps keep them rich.
Sai: Wine and dine them. Kiss the butts. Do whatever you must.
Sai: This will work. I feel good about it.
And I feel quite bad about it, Sai. Quite bad!
Sai: Give it a couple more weeks and I’m sure they’ll say yes.
Two more weeks?
Me: That will push me past my approved month.
Sai: Yes. Did you land the account yet?
Me: No.
Sai: And did you get Natalie back yet?
His question annoys me to a new level. That was never the goal, yet he won’t let it go.
Sai: You’re staying over there until one of those happens. Get comfortable.
His activity status turns gray as if he sent that message and instantly fucked off. The mention of Natalie rakes against my skin and nerves. Every time I feel I’ve moved on, some little mention pulls me right back into my head, listening to that little voice sayingWhat if?
Bri and I agreed we wouldn’t do that anymore. If she told me she wanted to call David and try to work it out, I would rage.
I need her to stay. Which means I need to keep her from going, and to stop thinking about her coming.
A growl in my stomach reminds me it’s time for lunch, and the rest of the weekend I am supposed to have off. I leave my room, stopping in my tracks when I see her.
Bri stands in the kitchen in shorts appropriate for the weather, her fly unbuttoned. The way the corners are folded over, it looks intentional, but seeing it makes it hard to keep my mind from wandering back to yesterday. The sunlight frames her like an angelic aura. She is a slim-thick goddess with an ass so perfect it should be lauded by the masses.
This isn’t like me—looking at someone and immediately thinking of sex. I’ve liked people before Natalie, had the pull in my pants when we touched, but for the first time since myfirst time, if Bri turned to me and said, “My batteries died, can you help me?” . . . I might.
