A Four Letter Word

by Michelle Lee

  "When?" Ashlee adds.

  And without hesitation, I answer, "Now."

  The three of them sound like a bunch of newborn piggies—squealing like crazy. They form a ring around me and then come in for a group hug, telling me how proud they are that I'm taking this step, that I won't regret it, that only good things are in my future. Once their little celebration is over, and we've all calmed down, fear starts to creep into my skin. And the what ifs begin to plague me, yet again.

  Always knowing, Ashlee pulls me aside. "Zoey, you don't have to do this now. If you're unsure and scared as to what to say exactly, mull it over, and do it when it feels right." Her words are comforting, but I know if I don't go to him now—I never will.

  I hug her tightly. "I love you, Ash, but you guys are right. It's time."

  I pull away from her, and she gives me the look—the "are you sure" look. I nod, and my lips pull up into a huge smile. My head is catching up with my heart. I hug Patrick and Geoffrey and thank them both—for everything. They give me some more encouraging words but say they really aren't needed—Tarzalicous will be mine. Of that, they are certain. And for once, I've never been surer of anything in my life.

  ****

  In a rush to get the first cab to his place, I totally forgot to grab my coat, and to say I am freezing my ass off would be an understatement. My nipples could probably cut glass at this very moment. And don't think the cab driver hasn't noticed, because he has. Every time he looks in the rearview mirror, he gives me the once over, totally creeping me out. I try to use my arms as a cover-up, but it's pointless. This Jane costume leaves too much of me exposed that I can't cover up enough. Finally, the cab stops in front of Evan's apartment building, and suddenly, my stomach is overtaken by a swarm of killer butterflies.

  These aren't the small, beautiful butterflies that you would find floating in the air going from flower to flower. These are killer butterflies that are relentless in their attack, slamming into my stomach over and over again. These are huge-ass butterflies that found their way into some toxic sludge and have become mutants. What I wouldn't give for a shot of Jaeger. It gave me courage earlier tonight, and I really could use some now—just a little push to get me in the right direction. I climb out of the cab, quickly give him the fare, and then he takes off. The cold air assaults me, leaving me a shivering mess, frozen to the bone. Why didn't I grab my coat? I rub my hands up and down my arms, but it does nothing to warm me. My teeth are chattering, and I'm sure if I looked into a mirror, my lips would be a lovely shade of blue. I take a deep breath and release it. I watch a cloud of white escape from my mouth as I do. My steps are hesitant as I slowly make my way up the steps of his building. The encouraging words that Ashlee, Geoffrey, and Patrick expressed play on a loop in my head as I embark on the biggest moment of my life.

  With each step, I hear, "You're meant to be with him"…"You're his lobster"…"Take the leap"…"He loves you, too".

  Each phrase I hear makes taking a step a little easier, until there are no more steps to take. I enter the building, the warm air greeting me like an old friend—wrapping me into a warm hug. My teeth only chatter periodically. I take the walk down the hall to the elevators like I've taken so many times before. But this time, it's different. This time, I'm not only going up to see my best friend; this time, I'm going to see the man I've loved since I was a teenager, the man who I've measured all others against and have always come up short; the man that has taken up residence in my heart ever since he said hi to me that first day in biology class. My body is buzzing with a twist of excitement and trepidation—of relief and unease. Up is down, and down is up. And the mutant butterflies are on a full nuclear attack. Good thing I didn't eat or drink too much.

  The elevator ride feels like an eternity, and it allows my mind to go through about a different thousand scenarios. Evan will let me down easy and say he doesn't feel the same. Evan will laugh because he thinks I'm drunk and joking. I will chicken out and ask him something stupid, like can I borrow a cup of sugar. There will be complete and utter silence, while this palpable awkwardness settles between us and never goes away. He'll ask me to leave. He'll say he thinks it's better if we weren't friends anymore. He loves me, but not that way. But after all of those and many, many, more, one keeps reoccurring. The same instance plays in my mind perfectly. And it's the same one I've had all through high school when I would dream of Evan. He tells me he loves me.

  The elevator's ding brings my thoughts out of my head, and when the doors open, I feel as though I could literally throw up. The mutant butterflies have grown in numbers. I slowly walk down the hall—so slow I feel like I'm not moving at all. I reach his door and stop dead in my tracks. Now what? Do I really want to do this? My fist hovers over the door, waiting for my brain to tell it to knock. It hovers. And hovers.

  The not knowing will kill you, echoes in my head.

  My fist listens to my brain's command and knocks—lightly. And then again—a little harder. I wait. I lean my ear to the door and hear nothing. Maybe he's not home. Maybe he met someone at the party and went to her place. Maybe he went to a bar or something after leaving the party. Maybe he's sleeping. Maybe he's looking through the peephole, sees me, and is thinking what in the hell does she want now?

  Maybe…

  Maybe…

  I knock one more time, slightly harder than the last. I lean a little closer, my ear just grazing the door. Still I hear nothing. But just as I'm about to pull away, I hear the rustling of the door chain and then the clicking of the deadbolt. At warp speed, I move away from the door, and just in time too, because it quickly swings open. Evan stands before me, wearing a pair of flannel Northwestern Pajama bottoms, his hand ruffling through his hair, and he's squinting. Probably trying to figure out what in the hell am I doing here at—two in the morning.

  "Zoey?" His voice is groggy.

  All my maybes go out the window. Well, except for the one where he was sleeping. I just stare at him, willing my mouth and brain to come to some sort of agreement and cooperate with each other. Why is this so hard? It's just Evan. Oh, right; I'm about to totally put myself out there and risk everything by finally telling him, after about a gazillion years, that I love him, and not in the "only as friend" sorta way. We just stare at each other, and my brain and mouth finally have come to an agreement.

  "Hi."

  Well, that took more thought and energy than was warranted.

  "Uh, hi. Are you okay? Is everything okay? Where's your coat? Did that guy hurt you? I swear, if he did…"

  "I'm…I'm fine. And no, that guy, Griffin, didn't hurt me. Why would you think he hurt me?"

  "Well, because you are standing in front of me at two something in the morning, wearing only your costume, when it's like twenty below outside." He grabs my forearm and pulls me inside, shutting the door behind us. "Jesus, Zoey, you're fucking freezing. You're lips are a lovely shade of blue," he informs me, like this information is new to me.

  Before I can respond, he whisks me over to the couch and wraps a blanket around me. His hands slide up and down my arms, trying to warm me up. I snuggle into the blanket—it smells like him.

  "Better?" he asks as his hands stop and he pulls away.

  My body says no, but my mouth says, "Better."

  "Do you need anything? Can I get you anything? You're sure everything is okay, right? He didn't…"

  "I'm fine, Evan, really. I just…I just needed to, um…to um, talk to you about something." I think the mutant butterflies just declared an all-out war on my stomach.

  "And it couldn't wait until…I don't know, a time when the sun was up?" he teases.

  "No, it couldn't wait." My tone is serious.

  Evan hears it. "Okay."

  I wrap the blanket tighter around me, not because I'm cold anymore, and not because it smells like him and I need that closeness because I fear it may the last time I am this close to him, but because it keeps me together and doesn't let all the emotion spill out of me. This i
s it. The moment of truth. Why am I doing this again?

  We all see it—that man loves you.

  Patrick and Geoffrey's words come back to me and swirl around in my skull.

  "Zoey, you okay?" When I look back, he is so concerned. His hand reaches out to me, and that's when I notice I'm trembling.

  "Yeah. Just still trying to warm up. I'll…I'll be fine. I am fine," I reassure him and myself.

  "I've got something warmer you can put on. Let me just get…" he starts to insist.

  I reach my hand out and stop him from getting up. "I'm really fine. Please just…just give me a sec, okay?"

  He nods and sits back down.

  I briefly close my eyes, and behind my eyelids I see my cheering section: Ashlee, Patrick, and Geoffrey. Their mouths move with no sound, but I can still make out what they're cheering, "You can do it. Jump. J-U-M-P. JUMP!"

  And I do…I decide to jump.

  I clear my throat and open my eyes. Evan's warm face is before me. His eyes show me everything I've ever known. He's my friend, he cares, in some way he loves me. He's here, and he always will be.

  I jump.

  "Um, when…when we first got assigned as lab partners, I don't think I ever told you I wasn't too thrilled," I begin.

  Evan smiles a goofy smile, putting me further at ease.

  "I had heard the rumors that you were this big huge jerk, and of course I believed them, until I actually got to know you. You weren't Evan the jerk, you became Evan the nice guy, the one person who I felt safe and close to, the one person I could always count on. You became my best friend." My eyes start to burn, and I feel a lump starting to climb its way up my throat.

  I take a deep breath. I jump a little higher—a little further. Evan’s smile softens and turns into my favorite. He nods, just letting me know he understands and he's still listening.

  I clear my throat and continue. "The more I got to know you, um, my feelings for you grew and changed. The love I had for you as just my best friend turned into…well…just love." I pause and advert my eyes to a very fascinating piece of fuzz on the blanket.

  I am jumping higher than I ever thought possible—I am soaring, floating and flying through the air, desperately hoping I have a parachute. "I…I always knew that you never felt the same…couldn't…wouldn't feel the same. So…so I pushed down those feelings and locked them away. I wasn't settling for just being your friend…I was…I was happy just to have you in my life, no matter what."

  I take a deep breath and release it. Still free falling. "Sure, I went out with guys, and none of those relationships ever worked out. At first…at first I never understood why, until recently…" I look up, and Evan's gaze penetrates my soul.

  His eyes glisten.

  I advert my eyes back to the most interesting piece of fuzz again. "I…I realized…that…that they could never measure up to…you."

  "Zo—" Evan starts.

  I look up at him, my hand abandoning the fuzz, poised and telling him to just wait. "Let me…let me finish, okay?"

  He nods.

  I continue. "Silly, right? I never knew I was doing it until tonight…really. Something weird happened. Ashlee says I had a glimpse of what my future could be. Maybe she's right. But either way, it was weird. Like Twilight Zone weird."

  I feel like I need to move around. I just can't sit across from him anymore. I need to move. I get up from the couch with the blanket still wrapped around me and begin to just walk aimlessly around his living room. Evan stays on the couch. He just sits and listens as I start again.

  "I started dating Griffin. And…and things got serious. He asked me to marry him. I said yes. You couldn't, or wouldn't, except the fact that Griffin was the one and decided you wouldn't be at my wedding. Only you were. You came as I was getting ready and told me…told me you loved me." I take a deep breath, and that's when I notice I am standing in front of his bookcase. Every shelf is covered with an array of picture frames—each containing a picture of someone that means something to Evan. My eyes take them all in, and that's when I notice most of them are pictures with me in them—either alone, with Evan, or with our friends. But I'm there—a lot. I really never noticed before. Could they be right?

  I pick up the picture of Evan and me at our high school graduation. I'm glaring up at him as he has me in a mock headlock. The smile on his face is infectious. My eyes well up with tears, and few manage to escape and stream down my face. My finger delicately traces the two of us. I take a deep breath and try to forget he's in the room. I'm spiraling into nothingness, the bottom far below.

  "I…I told you it was too late, that I had loved you and had waited for you to say those words, but…but it was too late. I told you to leave. I thought you had, but when I turned around, you were there and you kissed me. And that's when I knew…that's when I had to tell you the one thing I've been afraid to all these years. The one thing I've kept hidden from you. The one thing that can and will change everything between us…" I pause and steady myself.

  I gently place the frame down and grip the blanket tighter. The bottom flies up at me. I finish jumping.

  "I love you, Evan. Always have, and I always will. And I know you don't…"

  What's that expression? Life imitates art?

  Life…my life…is imitating my weirdo, flashy, futuristic art. Because just as the words leave my mouth, I turn around, and standing before me is Evan. Just like he did in my future flashy thing. I stop breathing. I stop blinking. I just stop. This is it. Either I am going to crash land. Or I am going to soar up…up…up…yet again. Evan's hand reaches out, and his fingers tenderly grip my chin, angling my face towards his. His breath fans across my face. I'm frozen. I'm terrified. He leans in. Closer. Closer. Closer. His lips twitch. My heart pounds in my chest. My stomach is under a full out nuclear attack by those mutant butterflies. Evan's lips are on mine and I soar. It's tender. Soft. Perfect. Better than art. Reality is so much better. Our lips slowly move together. There's no urgency. There's only time. My flesh breaks out in a billion gazillion goose bumps. I'm soaring. Jumping again.

  Higher.

  Higher.

  Higher.

  I feel as though I am reaching the sun—wrapped in warm goodness. Evan—my best friend—is kissing me. He's kissing me. He kissed me after I told him I love him. I can't help the smile that threatens to end our first kiss. Slowly but surely, it overpowers me, and I smile—big, huge. Evan smiles too. He minutely pulls away and just stares into me. Deep into me. I feel him consume every inch of me. He leans forward and rests his forehead against mine. Still smiling.

  "Zoey, I love you. I've always loved you," he whispers.

  But I hear it as if he shouted it from the rooftops. And never in my entire life has those three words held so much meaning, so much emotion. I have found that elusive four-letter word; it's standing right in front of me, and I am never, ever letting it go.

  "I love you," he says again, louder.

  "And you love me?" His eyes are closed, but that beautiful smile is still on his lips.

  I nod. "I love you, Evan. Always you." I confess yet again, and it feels amazing.

  "You love me."

  "Yep, I love you."

  Just as I reaffirm my feelings, Evan sweeps me up into his arms and really kisses me. It's still tender, but there's more force behind it. There's an urgency to it, and I feel exactly the same. Our lips mold together—moving together as one. His tongue sweeps across my bottom lip, and I can't help but part my lips, welcoming it with my own. Our kiss deepens, becoming a twist of passion and desire. He abandons my mouth for my jaw, nipping along the way to my ear. His breath is frantic and warm, sending a shiver through me.

  "I love you," he murmurs.

  "I love you," I echo back.

  His pulls me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist, the blanket falling to the floor. With agile skill, Evan walks us down the hall to his room, his lips never leaving mine. He gently lays me down on his bed, the sheets in a rumpled mess. He
really was sleeping. Evan stands there before me, his chest heaving, his eyes darkening, and that smile, my crooked smile, is still there. It seems to be permanently plastered to his lips. I love that smile. I love him. He loves me. He really loves me. I jumped, risked it all.

  "I've wanted to tell you for so long, Zoey, for so long. Everyone I've dated was a distraction, a distraction from not being with you. Paige…Paige was the exception, but only because I thought she could be you. She wasn't. She saw that. I've loved you ever since I first met you that day in biology, and I have ever since. I've just been too terrified to say anything, to do anything. I didn't want to risk losing you. But you're here, and you love me, too. It's always been you, Zoey, always." Evan jumps too.

  And I love him even more. I rise up on my elbows, staring at him, absorbing everything he's just said, and a small tear escapes. Evan leans down, his legs straddling me, his thumb sweeps against my cheek, erasing the small droplet and brings his finger to his lips.

  "Tear of joy, beautiful?" he questions.

  "Only," I easily reply.

  He nods and leans forward, pushing me down into the mattress. I welcome the feel of him over me. It's what I've dreamt about for so long, too long. Evan kisses my forehead, then my eyelids, my nose, each cheek. He pulls away, and I must have the strangest look on my face. "I've wanted to kiss every inch of you for the longest time, and that's exactly what I'm going to do," he informs me, his voice thick with want.

  There's a rumble deep within his chest. It's animalistic. It turns me on. Agonizingly slow, Evan trails kisses along my jaw, down my neck. His tongue flicks at the hollow at my neck, and then he continues kissing down to each swell of my breasts. My body is a live wire. Every place he kisses leaves a part of him behind—a warmth spreads out and gets absorbed by my heart. He kisses his way down to my navel, and again his tongue flicks out, tasting me, teasing me. I can't help but squirm. I feel his mouth turn up into a smile while I squirm. A warm puff of air escapes him. A giggle escapes me.