Sidequest for Love

by L.H. Cosway

  “I keep it at my grandma’s house because the parking is terrible at my building. I don’t drive it very often since traffic in this city is a nightmare. It might actually be enjoyable to get out on the open road. Sometimes, I feel like all the crowded Tube journeys I take will eventually suck away my soul.”

  I laughed at that. “Okay, you can drive us, but before you commit fully, you should know that we’ll be camping out for the night. A friend of a friend has an uncle who owns a farm close to the original UFO sighting. She’s gotten us permission to camp in one of the empty fields.”

  Neil went quiet as he thought about it. “I couldn’t convince you to stay at a B&B instead, could I?”

  I swallowed tightly. Visions of Neil and me holing up in a bed & breakfast for an entire night was giving me premature hot flashes.

  “That would defeat the purpose. If we stay in a B&B, we won’t be able to spot the UFO.”

  Neil emitted a heavy sigh. “Fine. Do you at least have a tent?”

  I shook my head. “I was going to go to Lidl tomorrow and see if I could find a cheap one in the middle aisle.”

  “We’re not staying in a Lidl tent. James has some good quality camping gear that I’m sure he’ll let us borrow.”

  “Okay, that sounds like a better idea,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. Neil and I were going camping together. We were going to be sharing a tent. The thought made me unreasonably giddy. I was so happy he came over and that we were now talking again.

  “Neil?” I whispered, feeling vulnerable.

  “Yes?”

  “Let’s never fight again.”

  There was a hint of a smile in his voice when he replied, “Okay.”

  A warmth spread through me, and we fell into silence. I closed my eyes and tried to bring my focus back to the meditation. Neil and I followed the lady’s voice, interlaced with nature sounds as she instructed us on our breathing. Somehow, the sound of Neil’s deep breaths going in and out was far more relaxing to me than the meditation. I enjoyed his closeness, the moment of quiet peace and serenity between us. And I guess it might’ve been a little too relaxing because somewhere along the way, I fell asleep.

  15.

  Neil

  When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was that I wasn’t in my own bed. A moment later, I became aware of the woman wrapped in my arms, her head resting gently in the centre of my chest. Emotion swelled within me as I gazed down her. She looked so peaceful.

  Through the window, I saw it was fully dark out. The clock next to Afric’s computer read 10:35 p.m. We’d been asleep for hours. Her soft, deep breathing filled my ears. I didn’t know whether to try and extricate her from my arms or simply wake her.

  A part of me didn’t want to move a muscle.

  Okay, so it wasn’t just a part. It was all of me.

  Having my arms around Afric felt right. I couldn’t explain it. It just did.

  You should probably move, my brain urged.

  Stay right where you are, my heart countered.

  Finally, I decided to go with my brain. Afric might not appreciate waking up with me like this. She certainly hadn’t invited me to fall asleep in her bed. As gently as I could, I unwrapped my arms and deftly slid out from under her. She made a noise of complaint as I settled her onto the pillow, but then her breathing evened out again.

  I climbed from the bed and found my shoes. I sat on the chair by her computer desk to slip them on. Next, I grabbed my glasses and jacket and was just putting both on when a sleepy voice asked in amusement, “Did we take a nap together?”

  I turned to the bed, and the sight of her tired eyes and puffy lips made something tighten in my chest. She was so beautiful. I couldn’t believe I didn’t see it right from the first moment we met. How blind I’d been. “Yes,” I replied. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  “Why are you apologising? I fell asleep, too.” She stretched out like a lazy cat, and my eyes were inexplicably drawn to her body. She was curvaceous and well-endowed in a way that made my blood heat.

  I forced myself to look away. “Well, I’d better get going.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s late. Just stay here.”

  “No, I really should go.” I stood firm. She had no idea how difficult it would be to spend an entire night in her bed and not do something that would jeopardise our friendship irreversibly. Somehow, she’d become one of the most important people in my life. Far more important than Annabelle had ever been.

  Looking back, I saw our online courtship for what it truly was; empty and hollow compared to the kaleidoscope of feelings and frustrations Afric seemed to provoke in me.

  “Okay, well, text me and let me know when you get home safe. Otherwise, I’ll worry.”

  “I will,” I replied, zipping up my jacket and heading for the door. I was halfway there when I stopped. Some foreign urge took over as I turned back around and approached Afric’s bed. I swear I heard her breath hitch when I bent and pressed the softest kiss to her temple.

  “I know you don’t like kisses, but I just want you to know how glad I am that we’re talking again. The last two days have been miserable.”

  A faint smile touched her lips. “It’s a good thing we agreed never to fight again. And it’s mouth kisses I have a problem with. You can kiss my forehead all you like.”

  I laughed gently and shook my head. “I better go.”

  “Don’t forget to text me,” she called as I left her room.

  “I won’t,” I called back.

  ***

  The following day I was busy with work and organising our road trip to Cornwall. I told Afric that I’d take care of everything, and she seemed happy to leave me to the preparations. It was a four-to-five-hour drive, and luckily James had agreed to loan me his tent, gas cooker, cooler box, and two sleeping bags.

  I didn’t share Afric’s hope and excitement for spotting UFOs, though I was looking forward to spending time with her. I even went shopping for food so that I could cook dinner while we camped. I was also looking forward to getting out of London, clearing my head, and figuring out how to tell Annabelle I didn’t want to see her again.

  I arranged for Michaela to cover for me at work, then collected my car from my grandma’s. On Friday afternoon, I parked on the street outside Afric’s flat before shooting off a text.

  Neil: Are you ready? I’m outside and parked on double yellow lines.

  Her response came promptly.

  Afric: Say no more. I’m coming down now.

  A minute later, she appeared. Her hair was down, and she wore a pale pink knitted top with a loose neckline, causing it to fall over her bare shoulder. It wasn’t supposed to be provocative, but something about the sight of her bare skin made my throat thicken. I emerged from the car and took the backpack she had slung over her shoulder.

  “I’ll put this in the boot for you,” I said.

  I hadn’t intended for it to happen, but my knuckles brushed her exposed shoulder, and she inhaled sharply. Her skin was so soft. I couldn’t get the feel of it out of my head as I withdrew, and oddly, Afric wouldn’t meet my gaze. Instead, she muttered, “Thanks,” before going to sit in the passenger seat. I returned to the driver’s side, put the car in gear, and we set off.

  I was aware of her unusual silence and wanted to ask her about it, but I bit my tongue. Had I made her feel awkward by taking her bag like that? I’d thought it was a chivalrous move, but she seemed to have reacted weirdly to it. Some women didn’t like men to do stuff like that for them anymore, opening doors and such, which I completely understood. I just had no idea if Afric shared those preferences.

  “You look nice today,” I said, glancing at her briefly before bringing my attention back to the road.

  “Thank you,” she replied. “You look nice, too.”

  A warmth filled my chest. I liked that she liked how I looked. “Thanks.”

  She leaned forward and tapped on the touch screen radio. “Do you
mind if I sync my phone up with this so that we can listen to some music?” she asked, breaking through my thoughts.

  “Sure, go for it.”

  She played around with her phone, then tapped the radio screen before an unusual electro song came on.

  “What is this?”

  “Yellow Magic Orchestra. They’re a Japanese electronic band who’ve been going since the late seventies. I love their stuff. It reminds me of the music from video games in the nineties.”

  “Weren’t you a foetus in the nineties?” I asked, wryly amused.

  “Technically, yes, but my parents were cheapskates, so they made me play my older brothers’ and sisters’ hand me down consoles instead of buying me a new one.”

  “What age were you when you started gaming?”

  She touched her chin. “Hmm, let me see. I was definitely under ten when I played my first video game, but it wasn’t until I was a teenager that I became obsessed, and it wasn’t a healthy obsession either. I often lost months to gaming. Nothing in the real world could compete. Then eventually the spell would break, and I’d realise I hadn’t showered in so long my skin had developed a film.” She gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I have more of a healthy relationship with it now, though. I know when I need a break, and I’ll give myself an entire week off.”

  “That does sound healthier. And I, for one, am glad that I didn’t know you during the non-showering phase of your life,” I said, and she chuckled again before falling quiet, her gaze focused out the window. It took forever for us to get out of London traffic, but once we hit the motorway, it was smooth sailing for a while.

  Finally, I built up the courage to ask her about the bag incident. “Did I make you feel uncomfortable when I took your bag earlier?”

  Her shoulders tensed. “Why would you think that?”

  “You just seemed weird about it.”

  She shifted in her seat. “I wasn’t weird about it.”

  She seemed adamant that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so I dropped the subject. We let the music drift over us before I pulled into a rest stop so we could use the bathroom and grab something to eat. When we got back on the road, Afric didn’t put her music on, happy to sit and be quiet for a while instead.

  “Do you think it will be cold tonight?” she asked after a stretch of silence. “I’ve never gone camping the normal way before, only at music festivals, and those are always too noisy to actually bother trying to sleep.”

  “It might be a little bit cold, but James loaned me a great quality tent and sleeping bags, so we should be able to keep warm. He also gave me a gas cooker, and I brought some food so I can cook us dinner.”

  At this, she cast me a surprised glance. “You’re going to cook me dinner?”

  “I’m going to attempt to cook you dinner,” I corrected.

  “Are you a good cook?”

  “I’m decent, though I’ve never cooked in the outdoors before, so it could go either way.”

  “Well, even if it’s terrible, I’ll still eat it. None of my past boyfriends have ever cooked for me.” She fell quiet for a second, then frowned. “Not that … I mean, not that you’re my boyfriend or anything, I just meant …”

  She was rambling, and it was almost shocking because she was always so unabashed about things. Nothing seemed to embarrass her, but now it appeared something had. I smiled gently. “Relax, Afric. I know what you meant.”

  “You do?”

  “Well, we don’t have a typical sort of friendship.”

  “Don’t we?”

  “No. I think you might actually be my best friend now,” I confessed, glancing briefly from the road to her to weigh her reaction. A bright, pleased smile graced her lush lips.

  “I’m your best friend?”

  “Yes. Aren’t I yours?”

  She thought about it a moment. “I always considered Sarita and Michaela my best friends, but both of them have been preoccupied with their other halves lately.” She paused, and I sensed her eyes on my profile. “I guess you are my best friend now. Huh.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “Aren’t you surprised? Don’t get me wrong, I love that we’re friends, but I never would’ve expected this for us.”

  “Me neither,” I said, smiling faintly as my thoughts wandered back to what she said about none of her previous boyfriends ever cooking for her. “A man’s really never cooked for you before?”

  She shook her head. “Most of my boyfriends were gamers like me. We’re not exactly known for our culinary skills. Picking up the phone and ordering pizza is probably the most effort we’ll put into a meal.”

  “My grandma taught me how to cook. She always said it was a good life skill to have.”

  “If Phil taught you, then you must be good. That woman’s food is pure heavenly comfort. You’re so lucky you get to eat there every day.”

  “I do recall her giving you an open invitation to dinner any time you want.”

  “And I recall you saying you’d barricade the door if I turned up,” she shot back, and I laughed.

  “Okay, perhaps I was being a tad dramatic. Besides, I’d have to let you in since we’re now best friends.”

  “That’s true.”

  A few beats of silence fell.

  “So,” I hedged, “these boyfriends of yours, which one made you hate kissing?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t be a sneak. I never said it was a boyfriend who made me hate kissing. Did you ever consider that it might just be a natural preference?”

  “Is it?”

  She blew out a breath, folding her arms as she brought her attention to the window. “No.”

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I’m being nosy.”

  “You are being nosy. But I’ll tell you if you really want to know. It’s nothing deeply shocking or disturbing. It’s all very mundane, actually. When I was fourteen, I had my first boyfriend. His name was Gary, and he lived down the street from me. He was a year older, and I had a crush on him for a while. He had pale blonde hair and green eyes, and I thought he was just sooo handsome. Anyway, one of my friends asked him if he wanted to go out with me, he said yes, and I thought all my dreams had come true. Sadly, the dream didn’t match reality. Gary barely ever spoke a word to me. He’d just tell me to meet him at the back of one of the sports pitches near where we lived. We’d exchange hellos, and then he’d put his arms around me and start kissing me right away. I suppose that’s all being a boyfriend means to a fifteen-year-old, kissing and groping.”

  “I’m guessing the kissing wasn’t so great then?” I asked, and Afric grimaced, like even the memory of it made her ill.

  “It was terrible. Gary was gorgeous, but his breath was atrocious. I was too young and in awe of the fact that he even agreed to be my boyfriend to request that he brush his teeth or at least chew some gum before he kissed me. And his kissing technique was all tongue and slobber. Absolutely no finesse. I hated it, but I didn’t want to lose him as my boyfriend. All the girls at school were so impressed that I’d managed to snag him, so I went along with the meeting up and kissing thing for weeks and weeks until, eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I finally found the courage to break up with him.”

  “Did you tell him why?”

  At this, she chuckled. “Yes, I did. I told him he needed to start brushing his teeth regularly and to get some tutorials on how to kiss. He said I was wrong and just being a frigid bitch. Anyway, I was glad to be rid of him, but then a year later, when I started going out with another boy, the idea of kissing him literally turned my stomach. I just couldn’t do it. It was like that original experience with Gary had given me a phobia, and I’ve been this way ever since.”

  I was frowning now, my attention on the road ahead. “I’m sorry. That’s awful, Afric.”

  “My brother Ryan got sick once from eating some gone off chicken, and he hasn’t eaten poultry since. I guess it can happen with anything.”

  �
��Did any of your boyfriends ever complain or find it odd that you wouldn’t kiss them?” I asked, then winced. “Sorry, that was intrusive. Forget I said it.”

  “It’s fine. You’re just curious, and I get it. It’s a weird preference. And just so you know, there hasn’t been a long string of boyfriends. I’ve had four. Four after Gary, that is. Dev was the most recent. And no, none of them seemed to be bothered about not kissing so long as I’d do, you know, everything else with them.”

  “Well, I would be bothered,” I blurted.

  “You couldn’t be in a relationship without being able to kiss?”

  “Definitely not,” I said adamantly.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised. You are terribly romantic.”

  “I am?”

  “Sure. Our friendship was forged on our mutual enjoyment of period romances, and I’m pretty sure you enjoy them even more than I do.”

  “I like stories about people falling in love. It’s not a crime.”

  “I never said it was. All I said is that you’re a romantic. It’s one of my favourite things about you.”

  “Well, I’m glad you appreciate that side of me. Few of my past girlfriends ever have.”

  Afric gasped. “They took your romantic side for granted? The ungrateful hussies!”

  I chuckled. “Everybody has their preferences. It’s not their fault if I’m not what they desire. My first girlfriend, Richelle, said I was too nice, and she really just wanted someone who was prepared to …” I trailed off, suddenly realising this topic wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with Afric.

  “Someone who was prepared to what?” Afric questioned, leaning forward and eyeing me curiously.

  “Someone who was prepared to be more vigorous in the bedroom,” I finished.

  “She wanted to be fucked hard then,” Afric surmised.

  I frowned. “Do you have to be so crude?”

  “Yes, I do, especially when it makes you blush so handsomely,” she said, reaching out to pinch my cheek. I shrugged her off.

  “The thing with Richelle was that I was only nineteen, and she was the first person I’d ever been with. If she’d only given me a chance to mature and learn, I might’ve gotten around to … doing that to her, but I was just so inexperienced. I had no clue what I was doing.”