Like You to Me

Calm. It was something I’d been lacking since I started Nova. There were times it reared its head (at parties, mostly, or during a quiet night by myself) but, for the most part, it was totally void in my life. However, it resurfaced when I pulled into Mike’s driveway. It was a scenario I’d found myself in countless times before. I was always his chauffeur when we went to parties together. He didn’t like to drive and when he did we always arrived late because he always got pulled over. Getting pulled over while in his vehicle left no opportunity for calmness because there was always weed around. Since neither of us wanted to spend a few solid hours in the can, we tossed our calm and collected attitudes out the window and replaced them with sheer paranoia. While I sat in Mike’s driveway, my hands stopped shaking, my heart rate dropped considerably, and the queasiness in my stomach disappeared altogether. A few deep breaths later, I found the courage to exit my car and arrive on his doorstep.

I knocked three times, one after the other, much like I always did. I don’t know if Mike knew I was coming or just figured I’d end up there eventually, but he made a point to take forever to open the door. The weather had been uncharacteristically cool the last few weeks and by the time the front door swung open, revealing my (possibly ex) best friend clad in his signature tight, worn out jeans and a simple black zip-up sweatshirt, I had begun to shiver. With some sort of mock-sadistic, crooked smile, Mike opened the door and invited me inside. Like a lost puppy I follow him into the living room, opting for the love seat when he plopped down on the couch. I realized too late that this probably gave off an impression that wasn’t in my favor. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be near him, I was just embarrassed. Mike and I had never even gotten to second base in the timespan of our friendship and, just like that, we went all the way at the drop of a hat. (Or pants, I should say.)

Mike cleared his throat loudly but no follow through came of it. I semi-expected him to launch into a speech about how wrong I was and how he was only trying to fix things but it didn’t come. Instead, he leaned forward and grabbed the bottle of Corona that had been sitting on his coffee table. I swallowed, trying to buy myself time before words actually had to be exchanged, and tried to think of what I was going to say. As prepared as I thought I was, every opening line I conjured up in my mind seemed so stupid and inappropriate. I’d never had to apologize for “hitting it and quitting it” -- something the situation’s other half probably knew much better.

So I took one last breath before deciding to get straight to the point. “I’m sorry.”

Mike’s eyes took their time when landing on me. They’d previously been cast downward as he picked at something (or nothing at all) on his jeans. Once my voice trailed off and my quote was finished, they didn’t look at me immediately. They trailed over the rest of his legs, the fabric of the couch, the smears and streaks on the glass tabletop, and then, finally, upwards from the floor until we were finally looking eye-to-eye. His head nodded, acknowledging my apology, but he didn’t say anything.

“Can you say something?” I asked, more offended than I deserved to be.

“Something.” He smiled at me, sarcastically of course, before rolling his eyes.

“Look, I don’t care whether you think I mean it or not. I don’t need to prove that to you, because if you know me half as much as you think you do, you’d know I don’t apologize unless I truly mean it-”

“Do you also fuck your friends and then blatantly insult them right after? Because I thought I knew you quite well, but I must admit I’m a little confused about that part.”

My mouth snapped closed and my body, which was extremely tense from getting so worked up, eased into the back of the couch. Mike was right. I had no valid argument because I was wrong. The more I tried to think up a comeback, the more aware of this I became. No matter how many times I apologized, it wouldn’t ever take back or excuse what I’d done. I could try, but I’d fail eventually. Every time Mike looked at me from here on forward, he’d only see the girl who used to be his best friend; the girl he had sex with and gave him the cold shoulder when he tried to salvage a friendship. He’d never see me as the girl who was madly in love with him but was too afraid to tell him for fear of humiliation and rejection because I’d never let him.

“I said I was sorry,” I said quietly. My voice had lost all signs of a fight; it was weak and impressionable, much like myself. I’d lost the sudden air of confidence I’d acquired on the drive over.

“Saying sorry doesn’t fix anything,” Mike replied, “it just proves you were wrong.”

I wanted to ask him why he was being so mean to me. That would’ve been useless. He was right again, because I was wrong and I did know it. If I hadn’t been wrong I would’ve had no reason to apologize. Yet there were two of us involved. I wasn’t about to suggest he should apologize as well because he’d never see it from my point of view and that’d only pour kerosine on our current predicament. If I gave him time to cool off and ponder my apology I might get one in return, but leaving his house with it stuck in my pocket was impossible.

Still, I knew Mike better than he thought I did. I’d spent many hours just observing him, trying to figure out what made him tick. While I knew his abrasive attitude was sincere, for he truly was bitter about what had happened between us, I also knew he was incredibly stubborn. If I continued to baby him, trying my best to get my point across only to have him knock me down and walk all over me, I’d never get anywhere.

“Fine then,” I concluded as I stood up. “Don’t accept my apology. I don’t care if you even believe me, for that matter, just don’t act like I didn’t make the effort.”

I made it to the foyer before Mike caught up with me, putting a stop to my dramatic exit by grabbing my wrist and holding me in place. As much as I would’ve liked to, I couldn’t ignore the surges of electricity that ran through my veins as soon as we made contact. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. I was supposed to fall in love with someone else; someone who wasn’t my best friend; someone who, if things didn’t work out and they removed themselves from my life for good, I wouldn’t fall apart over.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to walk away from me again?” He fired.

I ripped my wrist out of his grasp before matching his tone. “Yeah. That’s it. I’m not going to make an effort with the sincerest of intentions only to have you shit all over my apology.”

Mike’s hands immediately entangled themselves in his hair. He tugged at the roots, threatening to rip every strand out of his head in frustration. I knew what would happen next: he’d eventually come to his senses and accept my apology, offering his own in return, and we’d go back to normal. Well, as normal was we could, seeing as we know knew what the other’s nether regions looked like. I almost blushed at the thought.

Then, just when I thought I had it all figured out, Mike dropped the bomb that caused my explosion. “Whatever. Fuck you then, Shea.”

“I don’t know what you expected to happen when I got here but you can shove your fucked up expectations so far up your ass you’re still shitting them out next year. I apologized; I admitted I made a mistake and I said I was sorry for hurting you. In no way, shape or form do I deserve the amount of disrespect you’re giving me right now. If you want me out of your life for good, fine, I’ll leave, but don’t disrespect me-”

“Get the fuck out! I want you gone, Shea, what don’t you get about that?”

My hand left an imprint on his cheek before I had time to even realized what I’d done. It was an honest to god reflex. Something about his total lack of regard for my feelings had finally sent me over the edge. Although I had been wrong so many weeks ago, I didn’t deserve the treatment he was giving me. I manned up and apologized, admitting I’d made a mistake without asking the same of him, and he continued to shove it in my face numerous times. For the first time in my life I began resenting the only person I’d ever considered my best friend.

Before it could return to my side, Mike grabbed my hand and just stared at it. Eventually he moved his line of vision to be level with my own, engaging in some sort of staring contest I didn’t want any parts of. If he wanted me gone I was more than willing to oblige; him stalling me and keeping me around longer than was necessary just got on my nerves. I was going to give him just what he’d asked for.

“What did you just do?” he asked, his voice an eerie shade of calm. I was equally as stunned as he was.

“Please let go of me.”

“Answer my question.”

“I hit you,” I replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was, really. “Now please let go of me.”

“Why did you do that?”

“What are you - are you serious right now? Is this twenty fucking questions?”

“No girl has ever hit me before,” he concluded, more to himself than to me.

“Well, it just happened so can you please let go-”

And then it happened again. Without warning, my back came in contact with the wall behind me and Mike’s lips were immediately attached to my own. As much as I wanted to push him off, I couldn’t. I wanted him as much as he wanted me and there was no denying it anymore. The first time it’d happened was like opening a can of worms; we’d never be able to get the lid back on. Besides that, everything about us being together, even if it was strictly physical, just felt right.

“Mike, we can’t. Not again-”

“Fuck, Shea, stop talking,” he groaned as he moved his attention to my neck. I couldn’t deny that he knew exactly what he was doing, so I did what I was told and shut my mouth. It didn’t last long, though.

“Mike, seriously-”

“Shea, what don’t you understand? You can’t hit me and not expect me to get a fucking boner.”

“You sick fuck! Who gets off on shit like that?”

He pulled away and groaned again. I could clearly see his issue and his desire for me to stop talking. I knew, once again, where it was headed. This time I had no objections because I also knew exactly what to expect. Even if this was doomed to be our relationship for the rest of our lives, I wasn’t going to complain. I was in love with Mike, plain and simple, and even having him in my life just to use me was better than not having him in my life at all. Thoughts of what could come of such a relationship whirled around in my mind, making me long for something more while still keeping me grounded in the present. Every bone in my body longed for him, needed him even, making the reality of what we were seem less offensive.

Yet, all I could think about as soon as my legs wrapped around his waist, was that I hoped he wouldn’t regret it in the morning, because I never would.