If I Told You I Loved You, How Far Would You Run?

“Rise and shine, my little lovebirds!” Jon’s singsong voice is the first thing I hear when I wake up.

Sadly, only one part of what he said really registers—“We do not belong to you!”

“That’s what you’d like to think,” Jon says with a smirk.

Ryan groans and rubs the sleep from his eyes. “What? So actually you’re a pimp and you’re gonna sell our bodies on the streets; is that it?” he asks, snuggling closer to me.

I snicker. “Spencer too?” I ask innocently, since I know Jon’s pretty defensive of his best friend.

“No!” Jon explodes. “He—he’s my partner in business!”

“And we’re your hos?” Ryan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Good luck with that.”

“You’d make a great hooker,” I tell Ryan with a laugh. “Skinny and pretty. Yup, Jon would make millions offa you. He might even be able to pass you off as a girl.”

“You’d like to see that happen, wouldn’t you?” Ryan retorts and shoves a pillow in my face.

“It was a compliment!” I mumble through the pillow. “You’d make a pretty girl.”

“Sicko,” Ryan says with a laugh but allows me to come out from under the pillow.

“You two have the weirdest pillow talk,” Jon says, rolling his eyes.

Ryan and I glance shyly at each other, and I jab Jon in the stomach with my foot. “Out!” I command. “I’m sick of listening to your stupid claims!”

Not so stupid that I don’t wish it weren’t true.

With Jon safely out of my room, I cuddle up to Ryan, pressing my nose into his silky hair. “Mm,” I breathe.

“What?” Ryan asks with a hint of a smile in his voice.

“You smell good,” I say through strands of his hair.

Ryan laughs. “Hey, Bren, wanna know a secret?” he asks.

“Yes!” I say and pull out of his hair to stare at him. What are you going to say? What are you going to tell me? Are you gay? Please say you’re gay!

“I wear girls’ deodorant,” Ryan says with a sheepish smile.

“What? No way!” I say, disappointed but laughing. “Why?”

He gives me the tiniest of smiles. “It makes me feel less lonely,” he says.

Is that a good sign or a bad sign? Let me look over the facts: he wears girls’ deodorant—seems pretty gay to me, but it makes me feel less lonely? That sure sounds straight. Damn you, Ryan. Why are you so confusing?!

I want to scream my thoughts at him, but instead all I manage is: “You mean I don’t make you feel less lonely?”

“Aw, poor Brenny. I didn’t mean it like that,” Ryan says and hugs me.

I practically melt in his embrace, but I know it’s all fun and games to him. We’re best friends and we joke about stuff like this. None of this is real.

Then I’m hit by a fabulous idea. “Let’s go out for breakfast!” I exclaim, staring at Ryan with bright eyes.

“Huh?”

“Let’s go out for breakfast,” I repeat. “You know, to one of those cute hole-in-the-wall places and we can eat pastries and drink coffee and pretend that we’re sophisticated.”

Ryan laughs. “Okay,” he says. “But you’re going to have to lend me some more clothes because I’m not gonna go out in yesterday’s clothing.”

“Will you let me dress you up and parade you for all the world to see?” I ask, flashing him my most winning smile.

“Within reason.”

“YES!” I pump my fist in the air. “I win!”

“Uh-oh. Should I be worried?” Ryan asks.

Yes. “No,” I say, perhaps just a little bit too innocently.

Ryan narrows his eyes at me. “I don’t know why I even trust you,” he says with a small shake of his head.

“Because you love me,” I say and shoo him out of the room. “Now go and wash your face.”

With Ryan in the bathroom, I dig through my drawers, looking for the perfect outfit to dress him in. I find my longest pair of skinny jeans since Ryan’s both taller and thinner than I am; they’re a clean black denim. That will be good to work off of.

Next, I pull out a grey v-neck which I know is slightly too tight for me, so it should cling nicely to Ryan’s slender frame, and a black leather jacket. Add Ryan’s converse and grey newspaper boy hat and you can’t go wrong. Plus, a little eyeliner. Oh, ‘scuse me, guyliner. Wouldn’t want to make Ryan look girly, now would I?

Snickering to myself, I lay the clothing out on my bed and get dressed while waiting for Ryan. Nothing fancy for myself—just a pair of skinnies, a tee shirt and a hoodie to top it all off.

When Ryan comes back into my room, I’m sitting on my bed, conveniently shielding the clothing I picked out for him.

“What did you pick?” Ryan asks, suddenly suspicious. Oh that boy, he knows me too well.

Actually, I didn’t choose anything Ryan wouldn’t want to wear—I just like making him nervous. “Now don’t be mad, Ryry,” I coo and Ryan shoves me to one side.

“What the hell was that, Bren?” he asks with a relieved laugh. “You got me all worked up about nothing. I though you’d pulled out a dress or something!”

“Don’t be silly,” I say then purse my lips. “Why the hell would I have a dress?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” he says with a sly grin.

I put my hands on my hips and glare at him in perfect offended bitch mode. “Oh no you didn’t,” I say mockingly.

“Oh yes, I did,” Ryan says, patting my head patronizingly.

“But you’ll still let me dress you, right?” I ask with a pout.

Ryan leans down to look me in the eye, and my breath catches. He’s gonna kiss me! Omigod, he’s gonna kiss me!

“Course,” he says and ruffles my hair before straightening up and spreading his arms wide. “So dress me.”

Now I feel stupid. What are you, some sort of love-struck girl? I ask myself bitingly, but I don’t let it show. “Yay!” I cheer and bounce to my feet.

Flitting around Ryan, I peel my wrinkle tee shirt off of him and then reach for the drawstring of his pajama pants without thinking.

“Don’t!” Ryan cries and slaps my hand away. “Uh, I mean … um, can you leave the room for a sec?”

I nod and quickly file from the room. Oh god, oh god, that was awkward and horrible and terrible and I hope that never happens again.

“Your lover kick you out?” Jon asks casually, passing by me.

“He’s getting dressed, so yes,” I tell him with an eye roll.

“So you don’t deny he’s your lover?” Jon asks triumphantly. “I knew it!”

I don’t even warrant him with an answer. I just wait until Ryan opens the door and then I leave Jon standing the hall by himself.

“You dressed yourself!” I wail, looking at Ryan. “That was my job!” Because he has, indeed, dressed himself in the jeans and shirt I laid out for him.

“Surely there’s still something left for you to do,” Ryan says comfortingly.

“Damn right!” I say with a wicked grin.

Ryan immediately begins backing away from me. “Uh, Brendon, what are you planning on … Brendon, what are you holding behind your back? BRENDON!” he cries as I tackle him and sit on him so he can’t escape.

“Hold. Still,” I command. “Don’t make me mess up your eyeliner.”

Ryan’s a good boy; he knows when to give up. Going slack under my weight, he lies still and let’s me carefully line his eyes in liquid blackness.

After minutes of toying with Ryan’s hair until it’s styled to my liking, we head out into the living room to see Spencer and Jon sitting on the couch, idly flipping through TV channels. “You going somewhere?” Spencer asks in a bored voice.

“Out to breakfast,” I say then I look at the clock. “Or brunch as the case may be.”

“And you didn’t invite me?” Jon asks in an offended. Cue one glare from Spencer. “Er, us?”

Spencer glares at him again and digs his elbow into Jon’s side. “It’s fine. We don’t mind,” he says, speaking for the two of them even though Jon obviously disagrees. “Go have fun wherever you’re going.”

I don’t know why, but it’s a nice feeling to have Spencer’s blessings, if you will. “Alright, we’ll be back in a bit,” I say and drag Ryan to the door. “Let’s go.”

As we leave, I hear Spencer and Jon break out into a heated whispered discussion.