by Noelle Adams
“Yeah. A little claustrophobic.” It’s an easy excuse, and hopefully she’ll buy it. I can’t tell her that my heart is running at a gallop and my muscles are tense for a different reason.
I’m not going to get turned on, no matter how good her body feels against mine.
Courtney is my friend and nothing else.
Logically, I know that she’s twenty-one and will graduate from college in a couple of weeks. She’s gotten a full-time job at a community center, organizing art and reading programs for kids. I could legitimately date her now without feeling like a sleaze, but that’s not what our relationship has ever been about. We’re friends. I’m like a brother to her.
And I’m perfectly happy with that. I don’t even consider other possibilities.
“I’m sorry I’m smushing you like this, but it’s either this or get smashed up against a stranger. I’d rather it be you.” She’s raised one hand to hold on to my shoulder, and she’s reaching behind her with the other to brace herself on a support bar.
“It’s fine. It can be me you’re smashed up against.”
She smiles and presses her cheek against my sweater-vest. She looks like she’s going to say something sweet and Courtney-like, but then her expression changes. “Jesus, Shipley. Your heart is going like crazy. You’re not going to have a panic attack, are you?”
She straightens up and flattens her hand against my chest to feel my heartbeat.
My heart is racing, and I am on the edge of panicking but not for the reasons she thinks.
My groin is tightening. I’m getting turned on. By Courtney. By how much I want to touch her, smell her, move against her.
And I just can’t want her that way.
Her friendship is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“I’m fine.” My voice is a little rough. I can feel my heartbeat in my ears, my throat. I haven’t felt this way about her since that very first night I met her.
I can’t feel this way.
I can’t.
“You are not fine. Breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” She moves her hand to scratch gently at the back of my neck with her fingernails. “Do it now.”
I do what she says because I’m not in fit shape for an argument. I think about every unsexy thing I can imagine until I get my body under control.
My heartbeat finally levels off, and Courtney sighs in relief. Some of the people have gotten off at the next stops, and I’ve regained some personal space.
I’m fine. That physical response was just one of those things. It’s not going to get in the way, and it’s not going to happen again.
I’m not going to let it.
“Okay. We’re the next stop.” She’s turned toward the door, adjusting the strap of her crocheted purse. “Remember to smile.”
“I’ll do the best I can.”
THE FOLLOWING MORNING is Saturday, but the next chapter of my dissertation is due to my advisor next week, so I’m planning to work all weekend. I wake up at eight to discover that I’m out of coffee since I forgot to buy more yesterday.
Courtney will have some. Even if she’s still sleeping, I can let myself in and get what I need. We exchanged keys a few months ago, and we have standing permission to use them.
The movie last night went fine. Jenny is cute and friendly and smart enough, and she gave me her phone number when I walked her home afterward, telling me I should call her. She actually asked me inside, but I told her I had an early morning, so I better not.
There’s nothing not to like about Jenny, but I’m not sure if I’ll call her or not.
Jenny’s twin brother, Hank, obviously didn’t know that he wasn’t on a date with Courtney. He bought her popcorn and put his arm around her and looked at her like she was a feast to a starving man.
I pull on a T-shirt over my pajama pants and walk down the hall with messy hair and bare feet until I reach Courtney’s apartment. I’m about to knock to see if she’s awake when the door swings open.
Hank.
It’s Hank. About to leave Courtney’s apartment at eight in the morning. His dark hair is rumpled. He needs to shave. And he’s wearing the clothes he had on yesterday evening.
He spent the night.
It hits me like a blow. Not because I didn’t know she was having sex with him. Of course I know. When she “hangs out” with a guy, that’s what it means. And my reaction is not because she’s not allowed to do anything she wants in bed or out of it. Of course she’s allowed, and it will never change how I feel about her.
It’s just seeing it is different than knowing it.
“Oh, sorry,” I mumble.
Hank blinks in surprise, but then he smiles easily enough. “Were you coming to see Courtney?”
“Yeah. I was out of coffee.” I look over Hank’s shoulder to see that Courtney is approaching, wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“It’s fine, Shipley. Come on in.” She’s smiling and not remotely self-conscious, despite the awkwardness of the situation. “Hank was just leaving.”
“I’ll call you later,” Hank tells her, looking from me to Courtney and back again.
Both Courtney and I stand there like statues, so he ends up leaving after another minute.
Courtney shakes her head. “He’s getting clingy. I thought I’d never get rid of him.”
I’m having trouble breathing normally, and my forehead and a spot between my shoulder blades have broken out in a sweat. My voice sounds too rough as I say, “Sorry to interrupt. I didn’t realize he’d still be here.”
She gives me a quick look before she goes into the kitchen to pull out her bag of ground coffee. “You didn’t interrupt. I told you before. He was just leaving. He doesn’t usually spend the night, but he wanted to last night, so it was just easier to let him.”
“But you’re not changing your mind about relationships?”
“No. Of course not.” She’s turned around to frown at me. “I do occasionally let guys spend the night. It’s not like I make them hit the road as soon as the fun is over.”
“I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean that. So are you going to keep seeing him?”
“I don’t know. I like him and we have fun, but I think he’s starting to take it too seriously. I was honest with him, but guys don’t always believe what I tell them. I try not to complicate things, so I don’t keep seeing a guy if he wants more than I can give him.” She’s relaxed as she makes a pot of coffee, but she keeps shooting me little looks.
I don’t say anything. Just stand there like an idiot.
“You’re not going to turn all weird and misogynistic on me, are you?” Courtney asks, stepping over and moving me so I’m facing her. “You’re supposed to be a nice guy.”
“I am a nice guy. I’m not going to be weird and misogynistic. You can have sex with whoever you want, whenever you want, and however you want. I was just surprised to see him this morning.” I’m mostly telling her the truth. I don’t have any obnoxious double standards about sex for men and women, and I certainly don’t think there’s anything wrong with having sex with whoever you want.
It’s just that this is Courtney, and seeing Hank leaving her place first thing in the morning has made me feel something I shouldn’t feel.
It’s a tight feeling in my stomach. An impulse to tense up all over. To make fists with my hands.
She scans my face and seems to believe me. “Okay. I’m sorry this is kind of awkward. I know you’re like a brother to me, and I guess it’s weird for a girl to talk about her sex life with a brother.”
A brother.
That’s when it hits me what I’m feeling.
Jealousy.
This is jealousy. Possessiveness. I don’t want any other man to be with Courtney that way, even though I can never be myself.
A brother is absolutely not supposed to feel that way about his little sister.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I force down the feeling so
I can give her a half smile. “Yeah. I guess not. We’re good, kid. No worries on my part.”
“Okay. Good.” She stands on tiptoe and kisses me on the cheek, just above my jaw. “Because CourtShip is the best thing that’s happened to me in the last year, and I don’t want to lose you.”
I’m flushed warm, and my heart is doing something crazy. But my mind has always been the strongest part of me. My mind can take control here and get my heart and body to do what they’re supposed to.
“CourtShip is the best thing that’s happened to me too,” I admit.
It might be the most earnest thing I’ve ever said in my life.
She hugs me for it.
I’m not used to being hugged. No one ever hugs me. I don’t actually know what to do when her arms wrap around my body and squeeze.
I stand there stiffly with my arms held out slightly until I finally move them around her in a tight embrace.
I hug her back, and it feels better than anything.
Anything.
It rocks me.
When she pulls away, I get my coffee and leave since I’m emotionally shaky. That afternoon I text Jenny to tell her I had a good time last night and ask her if she wants to go out next weekend.
I’ve got to start dating. I refuse to feel jealous about Courtney again, so I need to see if romance is a possibility for me.
I don’t think about Courtney that way.
Three
One year ago
IT’S A SATURDAY NIGHT, and I’m sitting on the couch, trying to decide whether it’s time to break up with Melissa.
I’ve been dating her for two and a half months now, and we’ve had a good time together. She’s a graduate student in sociology, and she’s tall and slender with an interesting, attractive face and very short pink-tipped hair. I met her when she approached me on campus and asked me what I was working on. We have a lot in common, and we were getting along well until the past couple of weeks, when she started to complain about my not opening up.
It’s a common theme in my relationships, including all three women I’ve dated this year. I know it about myself, and I try to work on it, but Melissa doesn’t seem to recognize my attempts. It came up this evening again over dinner. She kept asking me about my childhood and my family and got annoyed when I only gave brief answers.
I did try. I told her something, which is more than I tell anyone else. I told her my mom raised me alone and had a very hard life and that she died when I was seventeen. But she wanted more details. She wanted me to spill out a big sob story and process all my feelings with her.
And I just don’t do that.
So I’m wondering if it’s time to break things off with her.
I still like her, but this is never going to work if she’s always disappointed in how much I can share.
I don’t want to verbalize this conclusion. I don’t want to hurt Melissa. She’s sitting beside me on the couch, staring at the television but not really watching it. She’s still stewing over our earlier conversation.
“Maybe we should call it quits,” I say before I can chicken out.
She turns her head toward me with a jerk. “You’re breaking up with me?”
“I think we should talk about it. I’m not sure you’re happy with how things are going. I’m not sure you’re going to be happy with me.” I feel awkward about the whole thing, but my voice is even and controlled. As I’m saying the words, I’m sure they’re true.
This is over. It’s been over for two weeks. It will feel like a relief once we admit it.
“I would be happy if you’d let me in a little.”
“I’m doing the best I can.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. I am. You think I’m lying to you?”
“I think you open up more with someone else than you do with me, and that’s not right if I’m your girlfriend.”
I’m genuinely shocked by this statement. I stare at her in confusion.
She huffs and shakes her head. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Opening up isn’t easy for me, but I’ve done the best I could with you. I don’t think I’ve treated you unfairly, and if I have, then I’m really sorry about it.”
Melissa rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t look angry anymore. “Yeah, this is definitely over.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve had a great time with you, and I’m going to miss you.”
She rubs her face, as if she’s wiping away whatever she’s thinking. “Yeah. Okay. I’m going to miss you too. I’m sorry it’s over, but it’s probably for the best.”
She stands up, so I do too.
I feel even more awkward, but I’ve been seeing her for ten weeks, and that’s too long to let her go with nothing. So I reach out and give her a hug.
She hugs me back. “One day you’re going to wake up and get a clue,” she says against my shoulder.
I pull back so I can see her face. “A clue about what?”
Just then there’s a knock on my apartment door.
Melissa huffs and shakes her head. “Speaking of.”
“Speaking of what?” I ask, walking over to answer the knock.
“Nothing.”
Melissa is behind me as I swing the door open to find Courtney in the hall. She’s wearing a long, soft top that slips to the side to bare one shoulder and a blue bra strap, black leggings, and a pair of tall boots. Her hair was in a braid, but a lot of it has slipped out and is hanging loose over her shoulders. She’s obviously been crying.
“What’s the matter?” I ask urgently.
Courtney looks between Melissa and me. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know... I’ll come back later.”
She turns to leave, and I have to grab her arm to keep her from walking away. “Hey, kid, tell me what’s the matter.”
“I don’t want to interrupt.” Her big blue eyes are filling with tears. “I can just—”
“I was about to leave anyway,” Melissa says, still giving me that impatient look she was earlier. “Take care of yourself, Shipley.”
“You too.” I lean over to kiss her on the cheek before she walks out.
Then she’s gone, and Courtney is stepping inside.
“I’m really sorry,” she says. “I should have realized she’d be over here tonight.”
“It’s fine. You didn’t interrupt. Tell me what’s the matter.”
“It’s... It’s...” She tries but doesn’t get the words out. She bursts into tears.
I pull her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her, because it’s the only thing I can think to do that might help. She cries into my shirt for a minute.
Courtney hugs me a lot now—when we first see each other and when we say goodbye—and I never knew how good it felt to have someone put their arms around me until she started doing so. I anticipate it sometimes when I know I’m going to see her. Crave it like a drug. This embodiment of pure affection. Someone caring about me, wanting to be close.
But it’s different right now because Courtney is fragile and needy in my arms. Something has hurt her, and I have no idea what it is or how to make it better.
After a minute, she pulls away, sniffs, and gives me a wobbly smile. “I’m okay. Sorry about that. Just lost it a little.”
“I don’t care if you lose it. Tell me what’s wrong.”
She doesn’t answer immediately. She walks over to the couch and sits down on one end, folding her legs up beneath her. I lock the door and stride over to sit beside her.
I wait while she wipes at her face.
I’m not going to move until she tells me what has upset her so much.
“It’s not a huge thing,” she says at last. “I’m sorry to mess up your evening with Melissa. I just came right over here without thinking, but I should have been more... more considerate.”
“You don’t have to be considerate around me. And Melissa really was getting ready to leave.”
“This early?”
>
I open my mouth to tell her that Melissa and I broke up, but I stop myself before I say the words. As soon as I tell her, Courtney will want to know all the details and delay explaining what happened to make her cry.
Neither of us says anything for almost a minute. Finally I can’t wait any longer. “Come on, kid. Spill it.”
She rolls her eyes at my tone, but she repositions herself and starts talking. “Chad came over tonight. He had a new game he wanted us to play.”
Chad is a regular part of our group. The coffee shop guy who’s had an obvious crush on Courtney for at least a year and a half.
“What happened?” I ask, trying to keep the edge out of my tone. I know what’s coming now.
“He... he...” She rubs her eyes and lets out a ragged exhale.
“He came on to you?”
“Yes.” She’s been looking at the floor, but she darts her eyes over to me. “How did you know?”
“He’s been wanting to for a while now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I figured you must have known. He hasn’t exactly been hiding it.”
“Yeah. I thought maybe he had some ideas, but I’ve told him all along that we can only be friends. I thought he understood that. But he got... he got really mad. He acted like I’ve been leading him on all this time. I don’t think he’s my friend anymore.”
The loss of a friend is significant to Courtney. I can see how much in how pale she is and in the way she’s holding her shoulders. She cared about Chad, and he betrayed her trust in him.
I reach over and put a hand on her knee, squeezing it in the only gesture of comfort I can think of.
She covers my hand on her knee with one of her own and leaves it there.
“I’m not making excuses for him,” I say after a while. “But it is hard, if you feel that way about someone, to put it on hold just because you know you’re supposed to.”
“I know that. If he just told me he wanted... he wanted... I could have dealt with it. But he was so mean. Then he tried to kiss me even though I didn’t want it.”
“He what?” My body surges up in a defensive posture.
Courtney’s eyes get very big. “He tried to kiss me. I had to push him away.”
