Morning Glory - A Novelette (5 page)

When he s
hakes his head, it
’s
obvious he doesn’t want to share the information, but I know he will. He doesn’t like to lie or keep things from me. “He asked if I’m fucking you.”

I’m taken aback by this. “Why would he ask that?”

He comes closer and looks me straight in the eyes. “I don’t know, Hayley. Why do you think he asked me that?”

This feels like a trick question, so I turn the conversation around and steer it back on course. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him to stay away from you.”

“And?”

He laughs, knowing I’m on to him. “Or, I’d kick his ass.”

I don’t know why this surprises me, but it does, and I’m not quite sure how I feel about it. “Did you say that for my benefit or yours?”

“Both.” No hesitation in that response. “You know I can’t stand that asshole. What’s going on with you?”

I sit on the bed and run his words through my head. “Why would he care? We hadn’t had sex in months.” A second too late, I realize I just confessed I hadn’t been having sex with my boyfriend. Now humiliation fills me, and I drop my head into my hands.

After
hearing
a sympathetic sigh, I feel the bed dip next to me and a strong arm wrap around my back.

I can’t look at Nick right now, so I talk into my hands. “Please don’t say anything about it. I know we weren’t good for each other. Alejandro and I were terrible together. Just, please no lectures, all right?”

“I haven’t had sex in six months.”

I look up and straight into the most trusting and wonderful eyes. “You haven’t?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He looks down at his lap. “It didn’t feel right, so I didn’t.” He chuckles under his breath. “It’s not like I didn’t want to. Trust me, I did.”

That’s when I
recognize
it—his sweet smile, his funny lines, and his sincere eyes. He’s the problem. I’m the problem. This. Us. The lines are all blurred, and I’ve drunk too much. I take a deep breath then say, “You need to go home.”

He shakes his head in confusion.

I nod and stand then pace in front of him. “This. This between us—it’s right and it’s wrong at the same time. You’re here with your clothes neatly folded in a drawer that my boyfriend should have had all along. We undress in front of each other like we’ve dated for years.” I hold my hand against my forehead. “Maybe that’s what we’ve been doing all of these years. Maybe this is why all of our other relationships are so screwed up and never last. Maybe we’ve been dating each other without even realizing it.”

“What are you talking about? That doesn’t make any sense.” He stands and stares at me
with
his pants and belt casually hang
ing
open.

I try to be clearer for both of our sakes. “We’re not dating. We’re friends, Nick. This right here between us is why neither of us can maintain a relationship more than six months. This right here is our hindrance. We are holding each other back.”

“You’re tired. You’re upset—”

“You’re right. I am tired and upset, but you know what I’m saying is true.” I stop and come toward him, wanting to be closer though I shouldn’t. He’s my best friend. I can be close, but there need to be boundaries within our friendship. “I don’t want you dating Jennifer. I don’t want you dating anyone, and I know that’s not fair for me to say, especially since I just got out of a relationship, but it’s how I feel. I shouldn’t feel that way, though. I know I shouldn’t. I should want you with other people, but I don’t.”

He starts toward me then sidesteps
and grabs his shirt before he
head
s
for the door instead.
A
lthough confusion is written all over his face, he says, “
You might be right.
I should go. I need to think.” As he walks to the front door, he swings his shirt into the air and onto his shoulders
, and
he leaves with not so much as a good-bye.

I stand there, watching the door, convinced he’ll be back to explain what that reaction was or discuss it more, but he doesn’t come back.

I don’t see him for a week.

He manages to switch to the nighttime shift at work, covering for a guy on vacation, and he skips our regular hangout nights. I leave him messages, but they don’t get returned. I even show up at his apartment on Tuesday and Friday to catch him at home, but he’s not there or he doesn’t answer. I hang out for twenty minutes both times, sitting on the steps near his door. Even though I have a key, I respect his privacy. I’m too anxious to sit, so I pace near his terrace where I notice his planters have early buds that are starting to bloom. He planted the
p
ansies last year. I smile when I
remember how I teased
him for picking purple flowers, but he said it was for me, because he was hoping I’d come over to his place more often. After knocking on the door one last time, I walk away
,
disheartened.

I miss my friend.

I miss my confidant.

I miss my Nick.

I may have been too harsh on him, but he said he’d be here for me, and he’s not. Yet I still find it hard to be mad at him. I’m equally to blame for this. It’s probably best to have some time apart and figure our lives out. Although I keep telling myself that, I don’t believe it, not for one second.

Nine days, three hours, forty-two minutes, and sixteen seconds after Nick walked out my door, he shows back up unexpectedly. I’d been lounging in bed
,
sleepy and sad, but I hug him
without saying a word because
I missed hi
m.
When I step back, I can tell he’s drunk.

He slurs his words. “Honey, I’m home.” Stumbling forward, I catch him and steady him. “Can I crash here?”

I don’t understand why he’s here and why he’s so drunk.
Needing answers, I ask,
“You avoided me for over a week, Nick.”

“No, no, no that’s not true,” he says and drags his finger lightly down my nose before tapping me on the chin. “I wanted to be here.
You
didn’t want me here.”

“We were talking, and you left.”

I help him to the couch. He lies down
,
and I start on his shoes, pulling them off one at a time. I’m used to having him in my life
,
and more importantly, I like having him close. My irritation lessens, and
my smile reemerges.
I feel more my normal self
again
with him close
. “Are you staying?”

“Am I allowed?”
he asks.

“If you drop the attitude.”

He returns my smile
,
and it’s that look, that exact look with the sweet expression and eyes that say too much about how he’s truly feeling, that gets me every time. I’m guessing he sees the same in my eyes when I’m not careful to cover it.

“Attitude dropped. Were you sleeping?”

“No, watching an old black-and-white movie.”

“I’ll watch with you.”

As I snuggle into his side, we watch the movie in silence, not needing to fill the room with long explanations. I can tell we’re both just happy to be together again.

The credits are rolling when I open my eyes.

“You should go to bed, Hayley. It’s late,” he says. His voice is gruff, his eyes are tired, and his expression is more serious than usual.

There’s no room for arguing. I’m exhausted and just slept through the last hour of the movie.
He takes my hand, plac
es a kiss on my knuckles,
and
it makes me realize that it’s not normal. What we have. What we do. How we treat each other. It’s not normal
compared to
my other male friends. What we have is special and unique, and it always has been.

He loosens his grip as he lies down behind me and stretches out on the couch. “Good-night,” he whispers.

I’m suddenly not ready to walk away from him. I’m attached in more than
‘
just a
s a
friend
’
way. “Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay with me?”

“I am.”

He’s going to make this difficult. That’s us. I smile though he can’t see it before I ask, “In my room?”

“I don’t want to sleep on the chair.”

“You are so frustrating.
In my bed.
There? Are you happy?” I stop talking, already sensing his ego growing to mass proportions. “Stop smirking, you fool, and come to bed.”

“You’re so demanding when you’re horny. I mean,
lonely
.” The room
goes
dark when he clicks off the TV. He stands and follows without further argument.

I whack him on the shoulder. “I’m not horny and only a little lonely. Okay, maybe a little horny too, but you’re not getting any from me, so paws off the goods.”

He chuckles as we enter the bedroom. “Oh, and what lovely goods they are.”

“Maybe I should leave you on the couch,” I say
, playfully threatening him
.  “I don’t want you getting any funny ideas or anything.”

“Too late for that. I’ve already got a head full of funny ideas.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re hot when you use big words.” He climbs into the bed on the opposite side.

“Only when I use big words, huh?”

“Ha! Good try. I don’t show all my cards on the first date, Ms. Harper.”

“Is that what we’re calling this? A first date? That sounds about right for you.”

“Sounds less sleazy that way.”

I pull the covers up to my chin and reply, “There’s nothing sleazy about two friends spending time together.”

“Friends with benefits?” He sounds hopeful.

“Friends with non-sexual benefits
.
”

He sighs, but I can hear the lightness in his tone. “Let’s go to sleep. I can’t keep up. I’m too drunk to continue this conversation.”

“Admit it. I’ve outwitted you.”

“It’s a cheap victory. Now, come here and let me hold you good and proper.”

I arch an eyebrow then realize it’s lost on him since he can’t see me in the dark. I scoot over to the right
and
cuddle into his side
.
  “I thought you were going to hold me good and proper? Doesn’t that include touching me?”

“You sure you can handle this? Once I snuggle with a girl, she usually falls in love.”

I smile against him. “I think I’m immune, or I would have fallen for you ages ago.”

“O
uch
! That hurts, Hayley Girl. And here I thought you were just kidding yourself all of these years.”

I think I might have been kidding myself, too.

His breathing deepens and slows as he relaxes. “At minimum, you don’t even find me irresistible?
C’mon, you can give me irresistible.”

I giggle. “You’re definitely drunk and forward. I can give you that. And just because it’s you, I’ll toss in ‘irresistible’ because you probably won’t remember in the morning anyway.”

“You’re probably right.” He kisses my
eye, making me inwardly laugh because
I think he was aiming for my
temple
. Then he says, “Good-night.”

The calm of the room surrounds us, and I hear his breathing steady with sleep.

Happy he’s here, I w
ant to confess more than just shallow mentions about his looks,
so
quieter than a whisper, I say, “I counted the seconds we were apart.” Smiling in the dark, knowing that he’d call me obsessed if he’d heard, I kiss him on the cheek. “Sweet dreams, Nick.”

When did sleep become so amazing
? I feel terrific and rested. I feel warm and wonderful. Lifting my head up, I suddenly become very aware that I’m in bed with someone. My body tenses until I see Nick next to me, looking peaceful. I relax and adm
i
re him for a few seconds before I pull my hand away from its cozy spot between his thighs and hope he doesn’t notice.

“Be careful down there. You trying to ruin me for other women?”

His eyes are still closed, but his smirk is solidly in place.

“I didn’t mean to touch, well, touch
you
like that. I’m sorry,” I say, stumbling over my words.

“I’m not.” He opens his eyes. “No harm done.” He lifts the sheet up. “Look.”

It’s like a dare. I can’t stop myself from peeking, but I get offended when I do. “Wow, so you find me so utterly unattractive that I can’t even give you morning wood? Don’t you get those from dreams? I’m real, and I can’t turn you on? Now you’ve destroyed the last shreds of self-esteem I held onto after Alejandro. Thanks.”