Maybe I’ve been thinking too much about it lately, being around Bri. How calm she makes me. How authentic I can be when we’re alone, how much I can tell her that I’ve never been able to admit to anyone before. In so many ways, I feel more emotionally connected to her than I ever felt to Natalie. And my body agrees.
It shouldn’t be confusing. Bri’s assessment was correct. When I feel safe with someone, some part of my brain interprets that as affection. Love isn’t attention, but trust is trust, and I trust Bri with almost everything. She tore down my walls in mere minutes, and now, weeks later, my penis and brain are in a battle of wits.
I’ll rub my feelings out and save my brain from continuing its losing battle.
I spit in my hand and reach beneath the covers. The first gripquiets my mind and lets me focus on getting out my frustration. I caress a hand over my chest and stomach, pretending to remember what it feels like to be adored again. Imagining the sound of Bri’s moans while I stroke it a few more times has me right on the edge.
Then the tap on my door brings me right back.
“Liem? Are you still awake?”
Shit.I pull my hand away from my dick as if she can see me through the wall. “I—I am. What’s up?” She opens the door and strolls in. I sit up, bunching the covers on my hips. “Wait. Bri, I . . .”
“I know you sleep naked. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” she says with a smirk.
She’s in my bed before I can stop her, crawling to my side and sitting on her knees. Her shorts are living up to their name, and her hair is wrapped up in a satin scarf, ready for sleep. She peers down at me with intimidating grace. A goddess and a nightmare all in one. For a moment, I forget I need to breathe.
“I told Keke and Junie they could stay here. Is that okay? Their flight is early, so it’ll only be until the morning.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. This is your place too.”
She gives me a look that shows me she disagrees. “I’m going to give them my bed and sleep on the couch. Can I borrow a blanket?”
“No,” I say. Her brow furrows. “I mean, no, you don’t have to sleep on the couch. You can sleep here.” My mouth blurs the intentional and subliminal of my message.
“Really?” Her grin and suggestive tone show me I’ve given the wrong impression.
“I meantIwould sleep on the couch.”
“No, you won’t. Wanna cuddle?”
Yes. Luckily, I kept that inside this time. She’s kidding, but I wish she wasn’t. I laugh her off, sitting up against my headboard, careful to keep the sheets bunched on my lap. The brush of fabric isenough to make me stifle a whimper. It’s hard to not be hard when the object of my recent fantasy is a few inches away, smelling sweet as a honeysuckle, making my heart beat as fast as a hummingbird’s.
She scoots beside me, her shoulder pressing against mine when she tucks her knees up. I focus on her eyes, ignoring the urge to glance down and see how high her shorts have ridden up.
“I’m sorry about today. They should have told me they were coming.” She whispers as if they might hear her from down the hall.
“It’s fine. I know you’ve been missing them.”
“I have. And I also haven’t.”
Does she feel the same way I do?“How so?”
“I feel like such a failure when I’m around them. It’s not like they rub their success in my face or like they haven’t worked their asses off for everything they have. But it’s hard. I’ve been on the same path as them and ended up with nothing, and they’ve achieved so much they have to come up withnewdreams to chase.”
I’ll never get over how Bri—dealing with a painful condition, self-aware, and intelligent—feels like an underachiever because she doesn’t have a good job.
“What makes you think that?” I challenge her assumptions. “Did they say something?”
Her face says yes, even though she says, “No.” Her lips twist to the side. “I found out Keisha is pregnant.”
Yikes. “How do you feel about that?”
“She’s wanted this for a long time. I’m happy for her. But she’s my oldest friend, and it feels like another milestone separating me from her,” she says. “I’m good with my choices. It only bothers me when everyone I love seems to be moving into parts of life I can’t reach. I don’t feel like I’m missing out by only being an aunt, but I mourn not getting to share a monumental part of their lives with them in first-person.”
“Damn. That’s deep.”
“It’s giving me more of a reason not to go back until I have a job and an apartment at least. Imagine me living with her while she’s hormonal. She’s extra even when she’s chemically balanced.”
