by CJ Martín
No. This has to stop. We’re gonna fuck it all up. I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut as my fingernails dig into his flesh.
His hand stills. “Do you…” He pauses, clears his throat. “Do you want me to stop?”
No. Please, don’t stop. “I think we should.”
I feel his body stiffen behind me as his hand falls away. The heat, that only moments ago flooded my body, turns ice cold. Our connection splinters, cracks apart, until we’re on opposing sides of an immense valley.
The silence is excruciating. Neither one of us speaks, and with every shift, every exhale, I feel the tension increasing. I try to fold into myself, to make myself smaller, the entire time praying that the morning sun will chase away the uncertainty. The doubt. The confusion. Praying that tomorrow when I wake, tonight’s memories will be erased.
For both of us.
Because I want my best friend in ways that I absolutely shouldn’t.
And I don’t know what the hell to do about it.
15
Riley
The next morning, I’m still lying in bed when Jesse exits the bathroom. He’s showered and is dressed in solid black basketball shorts and a white tee. When his eyes lock on mine, I know that all of my prayers have gone unanswered, because he remembers.
His eyes silently communicate the question, “Are we going to talk about it?”
But I’m a coward—a big, fat coward—so I paste a false smile on my face and change the subject. “When’s breakfast? I’m starving.”
His smile slips, eyes linger a moment longer before he nods. “Ready when you are.”
I’m grateful—and terrified—that Lucas refuses the offer to join us. In fact, I’m downright jealous that he’s still nestled in bed with the covers pulled overhead. That he sleeps peacefully and doesn’t have to have awkward conversations about best friends who blur the lines of their friendship.
Jesse and I need time alone to sort out what went down last night, but my inner child wants to bury her head in the sand and pretend that nothing happened.
The walk across the greenway is slow and quiet. Is he going to bring up last night? Or will he make me? Maybe this morning I was just being paranoid. A few yards away from the Student Union Building, when he still hasn’t said anything, I bite the bullet.
“Jes.” I pause outside the double doors. “About last night…”
“Yeah.” His expression turns guarded, like he’s not sure how to feel, like he’s not sure if he wants me to know how he feels. Welcome to the club.
I decide to shoulder the blame, although we’re both equally at fault. “I’m sorry things got out of control... I should have…”
He closes his eyes, shakes his head, and when he speaks his voice is cold, if not a touch annoyed. “Should have what, Ry?”
I take a step backward and wrap my arms around myself. “You know what.” I trace a small circle on the pavement, keeping my head bent down. “You’re my best friend. Things got a little crazy for a minute, but you know…” I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, at the same time cursing the tears that pool in my eyes. “I don’t want to lose what we have. You’re like a brother to me.”
“Right. A brother.” He nods his head once and takes a step back. “Got it.”
“Jes.” I reach for him, but he shrugs me off, not in an obvious way, but I catch the gesture, nonetheless. “Are we okay?”
He spins to face me, a smile plastered on his face. “Yeah, Ry. We’re good.”
“Yeah?”
His eyes are clear, calm, resigned, and for a moment I wonder if I’m making more out of this situation than necessary.
“Come on.” He holds the door open wide. “I’m hungry.”
We take the stairs rather than the elevator. The third floor cafeteria hums with surprising buzz for a Sunday morning. I glance at the clock on the wall. Eleven thirty-nine. I guess it’s not that early.
As I push my scrambled eggs around my plate, two girls approach our table. “Jesse,” the taller one coos. “How’ve ya been?”
Jesse’s smile widens. “Good. And you lovely ladies?” Gag me.
He continues, “I didn’t see you at Epsilon Phi last night.”
Because we were hanging together last night, asshole. The anger seeps into my veins, a slow simmer at first, but increases to a raging boil the longer he ignores me. I’m not sure what has me madder, the fact that he had his hands on me last night and is now openly flirty with these, these floozies, or the fact that he can turn off his emotions so quickly.
He ups his charm as he gestures to the two available seats. “Wanna join us?”
“Sure,” the shorter blond girl says, and plops down her tray.
Another twinge of annoyance surfaces. We only have a few hours left before my bus leaves. This is supposed to be my weekend.
“I’m Paola,” the blond girl says and then gestures to the brunette who is still chatting with Jesse. “She’s Lily.”
Lily. Alarm bells sound in my head. Didn’t Lucas mention something about a Lily?
Even though I know I shouldn’t, especially after what happened between us last night, I push for his attention. “Jes.” When he doesn’t answer, even though I know he heard me, I clear my throat. “Jesse. We should get going. My bus leaves soon.”
He turns away from Lily and nods. “Yeah.”
Finally, she looks at me. She’s very pretty, in an I-could-be-a-model sort of way. Her face is long and angular, and her nose is a bit too pointy, a bit too sharp, but somehow it works. Her eyes are wide set, the color of honey, but lack any warmth as she says, “I’m Lily.” She wraps her hand around Jesse’s bicep. A possessive growl surges through me. She’s staking her claim, only furthering my suspicions that they’ve hooked up, when she asks, not so subtly, “How do you know Jesse?”
Jesse’s cool eyes dart to mine, and his voice is direct when he answers. “Riley’s a childhood friend.” He smiles at Lily for a moment then glances back to me. “She’s like a sister to me.”
“Oh.” Lily’s body visibly relaxes and her smile widens. “You’re only here for the weekend, then?”
“Yep.” I nod, wanting to throw the remaining half of my orange juice in her face. Or Jesse’s.
He’s mocking me. Or at the very least, trying to get a reaction. I don’t know what to think or how to feel. I’m hurt and confused, but I know without a shadow of doubt that stopping us last night was the right thing to do.
Sure, Jesse is gorgeous. His striking blue eyes are enough to melt panties (not my panties obviously), but it’s so much more than that. He’s so much more than that.
His caramel skin is flawless and has always reminded me of rich coffee splashed with the perfect amount of cream. He’s muscular and strong, not because he cares about things like working out, but because he’s an athlete and his body was built to move. Watching him run up and down the court dribbling a basketball is nothing short of beautiful. In my intro to psych class, we learned about Howard Gardner’s Theory of Multiple Intelligences, and how each person possesses all seven intelligences but are stronger in certain areas than others. Without a shadow of a doubt, Jesse is gifted in bodily-kinesthetic intelligence. The way his body moves through space, the way he is just so aware—it’s art in motion.
But on the flip side, this is Jesse. My Jesse, and despite all of his amazing physical attributes, despite his caring attitude and wicked sense of humor, I don’t think of him in that way. Do I?
“Ry?” My name sounds like it’s being called from far away. “Riley?” My eyes squint into focus. Jesse and Lily both look at me expectantly. “Are you okay?” Jesse questions with more concern in his voice. “You look a little—”
“Pale?” the blonde girl, Paola, I think she said her name was, offers.
I shrug off their concern. “I’m fine. Just a little tired, I guess. It was a long night.”
Jesse’s eyes widen at my innuendo, but I continue. “I think I’m gonna head back. I have to
pack up my stuff.” I snatch my tray from the table, and Jesse stands as well. I turn to face him. “Don’t leave on my account. I’m sure Lucas can let me in. My gaze shifts between Lily and the Paola girl. “Stay with your friends.”
His eyes narrow, and a muscle ticks in his jaw. “I don’t mind.” He reaches for my tray. “I’ll walk you back.”
“Such a gentleman,” I say, my voice falsely sweet. “Nice meeting you—”
Jesse takes my hand and pulls me away before I can finish my statement. Oh, well, no love lost, because I’ll probably never see either one of those girls again.
“Come on.” He stalks toward the door so fast that I’m forced to jog to keep pace with him. “You’ve got a bus to catch.”
16
Jesse
Inviting Lily and her friend to join Riley and me at breakfast is a dick move—I know it—but I do it anyway. Why? Because Riley is fucking with my head, that’s why. For years I’ve been struggling to keep her firmly planted in the “friends” column. It was damn hard, because there were times when I thought she wanted more. Times like when we kissed in my bedroom senior year, or the day after prom, when we ditched our crew to spend the day together, or last night. Especially last night. Fuck.
Had I been drinking? Yeah, I had some beers that made me a bit more brazen than usual, but I wasn’t drunk. Don’t get me wrong, I thought I was when she came out of the bathroom dressed in only panties and a thin tank top. Christ, her tits looked amazing in that shirt, her puckered nipples straining against the fabric. It took everything in me not to run my lips across the swell, suck the plump flesh into my mouth, bite her nipples. I had to touch her or I would go crazy.
When I crawled into bed beside her and she reached for me, it was the only green light I needed. And when I touched her? Her body responded in the way I had only dreamt about—wet, breathy, needy—and she couldn’t deny it, because I felt it. Felt her.
Our connection was damn near electric, and I knew just one tiny push, one little shove would tip us both into nirvana. But just when I’d been sure that last night was the night—the night I’d been dreaming about for nearly half my life—she stopped us. I felt her fear, sensed the uncertainty, the hesitation, and I would never push her for more than she wanted to give. I care about her too much, but even more than that, I don’t think I could bear it if she regretted us in the morning.
So I do the only thing I know how to do well, the thing I’ve been doing for years…I plaster a smile on my face and pretend like she isn’t ripping my fucking heart out. The icing on the cake? Her referring to me like a brother after I almost had my hands inside her. What the fuck?
When Lily approaches our table I can tell almost immediately that Riley doesn’t like her. To be honest, the more I think about it, I’m not sure Riley has ever liked one of my girlfriends—okay, I’m using the term girlfriend very loosely, but you get my point. Riley is territorial and I like it. It makes me feel like I am hers. Like she is mine.
But today, because I’m hurting, I want Riley to hurt a little, too, so I flirt shamelessly with Lily and imply that Riley is nothing more than a friend. That’s what we are, after all. Riley made that crystal clear. I even contemplate, for a fraction of a second, letting her walk back to my dorm alone.
Of course, I would never actually do that—she’s my best friend—but as we walk the slow path back in silence, I wonder if I did the right thing. Maybe I should have just let her go. Let her walk away.
This is too hard. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I have to move on with my fucking life.
“Riley,” I call after her, as she quickens her pace to catch the open elevator. We both hurry in just as the door closes, and cram ourselves beside four other people. No one speaks, and normally I’d crack a joke about awkward elevator silences, but now isn’t the time.
We get off on my floor, and I stop her just before we enter my room. I don’t want to have this conversation in front of Lucas. The dude already thinks I’m in love with Riley—he isn’t wrong—but still, I don’t need to add fuel to the fire.
“Riley.” I search her eyes, but she casts her own down toward the floor. “Hey.” I squeeze her arm. “Are we okay?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”
I scrub a hand through my hair, which has grown out a little longer than my normal cut. “It’s just…back there”—I gesture with my chin toward the cafeteria—“things felt a little weird.”
“I agree.” She brings her eyes to mine. “It was a weird weekend. We both missed each other and college has been a big change…for both of us.” She pauses, bites her lip. “Let’s forget anything ever happened?” Her voice rises at the end, making her statement sound like a question. She’s asking for my agreement, my confirmation so that things can go back to normal between us. I experience an almost paralyzing sense of déjà vu. It’s like the fucking kiss all over again.
There are so many things I want to say her, so many ways I want to love her, and touch her, and cherish her, but I know that isn’t what she needs—at least, not yet—so I give her what she asks and force my voice to sound confused. “What are you talking about? Nothing happened.”
Her body sags in relief and she smiles, a wide, genuine smile. “Thank you.”
I extend my pinkie and she latches hers with mine. I pause for a beat and stare at our entwined fingers, hoping one day she’ll want me the same way I want her. Until then, I have to let her go, and I pray, fucking pray, that one day her heart—her whole heart—will find its way back to me.
17
Riley
Three weeks later I’m still not convinced that Jesse and I are over our “incident.” By outward appearances our relationship hasn’t changed. We still call and text every few days and even make plans to see each other over the upcoming winter break. But beneath the surface I sense a shift, a subtle change in our dynamic, that I can’t quite put into words.
Even though we’re close, we rarely talk about our sex lives. It’s not like we specifically set up boundaries, but apart from Jesse asking me about Tod the day after prom, we never discussed our hookups. But now in our conversations he mentions girls. A lot. Not in a look-at-me-getting-laid kind of way, but in a casual, nonchalant way that makes my heart pinch every fucking time.
He’s also partying, despite his academic probation. Sometimes I’ve seen him tagged in several online posts within the same week at three or four different parties. I never say anything, mostly because I’m not his mother, but I really feel that he should be worrying more about his grades and basketball than girls and booze. But that’s just me.
“What’s the matter, pumpkin?” Liza questions, as she looks up from her tablet. “You’ve been staring at your computer screen for over ten minutes.”
I close the lid of my laptop to hide the picture that sent my mind spinning: a shot of Jesse with Lily. His arms are wrapped around her waist, and her lips are pressed against his neck, while his smoldering blue eyes stare into the camera. “Nothing,” I reply quickly.
Liza’s brow quirks and she walks over to my computer. “Really?”
“Really,” I repeat.
“Come on. Whatcha looking at?”
“Nothing,” I say again, but she cracks open the lid.
“Ooh!” She teases. “Look who we have here. Jesse and his…girlfriend?” Her eyes alight with interest.
I snort and hit the power button before closing the lid again.
Her eyes soften when she notices that I’m not smiling. “Are you okay?” She sits on the edge of my bed. “I thought you guys were just friends?”
“We are,” I say with an edge to my voice.
She nods. “Did something happen when you went to see him?”
I shake my head. No way I’m confessing to Liza that we almost—whatever the hell we almost did. Besides, Jesse and I both agreed to forget anything ever happened, but still I find myself confessing. “Things are different between us.”
“Different
how?”
I shrug. “I don’t know,” I say, not sure how to put my emotions into words. “Things are changing. We’re growing apart.”
“Yeah,” she agrees, and I stare at her for a moment, eyes wide because I half expected some encouragement or positive bullshit about how friendships are forever. “What?” She picks at the fuzz on my comforter. “College changes people. You both are doing your own thing. It’s part of growing up.”
I blink back tears. “I feel like I don’t even know him anymore. He’s partying a lot.” I pause before adding, “And he’s on academic probation.”
Liza is not bothered in the least. “Riley, listen. You’re friends, and you guys will always be friends, but he’s not the same guy he was. You’re not the same girl, either. You’re growing up. College is about experimenting and figuring out who you are.”
My eyes find hers, and I wonder where this insight has come from. Maybe she, too, left someone behind back home. She squeezes my hand. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” I question.
“Out.” She crosses the room and opens her bureau to peruse her clothes. “Time for you to start living less in the past and more in the present.” She tosses a shimmery tank top at me. “No more sad talk. Time for some fun.”
I smile. Maybe she’s right. A little fun never hurt anyone.
18
Riley
Dry. That’s my first thought, as I slowly crack my eyes open. So fucking dry. I drag a hand across my face, not hard, but my fingers scrape my skin and cause me to wince. What the fuck happened last night?
Pushing myself to sit up, I squint at my surroundings. I’m in a carbon copy of my dorm room, but it’s definitely not my room. A black and grey poster of a band I don’t recognize is stretched across the far wall. The small student desk is littered with Kit Kat wrappers and empty cans of Red Bull.
