Honey

A short sob escaped my lips and I threw my head down into my hands. Everything about this night was wrong. I was having a hard time believing that something like this could happen, but my biggest problem was believing that it could happen to me.

I wanted - no, I needed somebody to talk to. It couldn’t be my best friend, because honestly, she’s horrid at cheering people up. I racked my brain for anyone else that I could talk to at this time of night, and only one person came to mind.

I grabbed my phone off the side table and scrolled through my contacts until I saw his name, smiling slightly as I pressed the call button. Not exactly to my surprise, he answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Tessie Negro, what’s up bro?” he asked cheerily, dragging out the ‘hey’. He called me “Negro” because my last name is “Black”; it’s been an ongoing nickname for over a year.

“You’re home, right?” I asked, trying by best not to sniffle.

“Yeah, why?” I’m sure he was wondering why I skipped the hellos and went straight to the point.

“Do you think I could come over for a bit?”

“At eleven at night?” he asked skeptically.

“It’s really important, Henry. I…really need to talk to you right now. It would help me out a lot,”

“Well if it’s that important, then sure Tess.” His voice was growing softer and softer as we spoke, and I knew then that he was aware of me not being myself.

“You’re mom and dad won’t care?”

“Come on bro, they won’t give a shit. Just come on over. I’ll leave the basement door unlocked even,”

“Thank you so much. I’ll be there in a few,” I smiled, wiping away a tear that escaped the depths of my eye.

“No problem,” he answered simply. If he was in being his normal self and not worrying about me like I’m sure he was, he’d surely have said, ’Don’t thank me, just fuck me,’ instead. I almost laughed, just thinking of the difference in the side of himself he was showing now and the side he normally shows.

I took the phone from my ear and ended the call, immediately standing up and grabbing my bag. Ten or so minutes later I was getting out of my car and walking towards the door that led to his basement. I closed it behind me and walked through the laundry room that connected to his bedroom. He was sitting on his bed with his bass guitar on his lap, plucking it gently. I sniffled as I walked through the door and he must have heard me, for he looked up at me with concerned eyes.

He set the bass down and stood up, walking towards me swiftly. I was barely past the threshold of his room and was already in his embrace. However strong I tried to be, I just couldn’t and broke down in his arms. The tears flowed freely and it started to become slightly difficult to breath.

“Hey, hey, it’ll be okay. Take some deep breaths, okay? It’s going to be alright,” he whispered, petting down my hair softly. He rocked me back and forth a little and though I never thought something like that would actually help one bit, it really did calm me down, even if just by one level. “Shh, calm down honey.” Something that was damn-near a sob hitched in my throat at that last word. I’d never heard him call anyone ‘honey’ before. He’s always been the ‘bro’ or ‘dude’ kind of guy; not the ‘honey’ or ‘sweetie’ one.

Surprising even myself, I giggled.

“What, so now you’re laughing?” he chuckled back airily. Of course, he was only joking with me and I knew it just as well. “Does that mean you’re okay now?”

“Not really. It’s just,” I laughed again. “You called me ‘honey’. That’s not like you.”

“You’ve just never seen me when I’m like this. I can be compassionate, you do know?”

“Yeah, I know, dear.” See, I’m the one that called people ’hun’ and ’dear’ even without exactly meaning to do so. “It’s just kind of a weird change, when I’m used to being called ’bro’. A nice change, but a weird one,” I smiled, sniffling still.

“So are you going to tell me what’s wrong yet?” he asked, taking a small step back and reaching a hand to my cheek to wipe a singular tear away. I’ve always wanted a boy to do that for me. “Or do I have to buy you dinner first?”

I laughed and shook my head at him. “You’re such a shit,” I chuckled, already feeling a slight bit more in control of myself than when I had arrived. “Can we sit first?” I asked, motioning to his mussed up bed. Typical him, expecting company and not bothering to clean up even a bit.

“Of course; come on,” he nodded, putting an arm around my shoulder and walking me to his bed. I originally sat down by his headboard after he sat against the adjacent wall, but he shook his head and chuckled. “No, come here,” he said, patting the spot on the bed next to him. I crawled over next to him and he pulled me into another hug. He brushed my fallen hair out of my face and leaned his head on mine. “What’s wrong, hun?”

I shook my head a bit. “You don’t want to hear my issues.”

“I told you to come over. I do; I want to help you the best I can,”

“You’re too good to me,” I smiled softly, snuggling into him a bit.

I launched into the entire story of what occurred earlier that evening, and he sat there listening intently the entire time. He never once interrupted me and I could tell that he was listening to everything that came out of my mouth, because he made sounds of recognition throughout the whole story. Mutters of ‘oh my god’ and ‘oh damn’ were prevalent, along with quite a few ‘shit’s and ‘ooh’s.

When I finished talking, I was nearly in tears again, but I didn’t want them and held them off as best I could.

“Oh hun, please don’t cry again,” he whispered, rubbing my lower back gently. “If you start crying, I might.”

“You won’t cry,” I sniffed.

“Oh yes I would,” he chuckled. “You know me better than that. You know I would cry.”

“Okay, maybe you would,” I smiled, the tears threatening to retreat. I’ll tell you what; that’s one threat I’d gladly receive. He got awfully quiet for a longer period of time than I was necessarily comfortable with and I turned my head towards his. “What’s wrong with you, hun?”

My question must have shook him out of the trance his mind had him in, because he suddenly jerked his eyes to mine. “Oh, no, nothing.”

“No, it was something,”

“Just forget about it, okay? It wasn’t really important,”

“What, I tell you what was wrong and you won’t tell me?” I asked, joking slightly.

“It would be really bad timing,” he muttered, shaking his head, looking away from me.

“Just tell me anyways, alright? I don’t care,” I shrugged. “Anything really, to get my mind off of everything else.”

He sighed and ran a hand across his head, ruffling his hair a little. He bit his bottom lip slightly and turned back to me. “Truth is, I didn’t really mean to call you ‘honey’ earlier.”

“Okay?” I said, trying to lead him into telling me exactly what he was talking about.

“I…sort of let it slip on accident,”

“So it’s bad timing to tell me that you didn’t want to call me ‘honey’?” I asked, completely confused.

“No, well, yes, but…no, not exactly,”

“Will you just get it out already?”

“I like you,” he said quickly, as if pulling the band-aid on the act of telling me. “A lot more than a friend should like another friend.”

“So all those times you invited me over here with only a few other people; that was because you liked me?”

“That, and because you’re one of my best friends,” he nodded.

“That also why you hug me goodbye every time one of us leaves somewhere before the other?”

“Was it that obvious?” he muttered, very embarrassed.

“Oh yes. And what about all those times you quote-un-quote ‘accidentally’ brushed against my tits, claiming - ?”

“They’re just there,” he finished for me, laughing at the ongoing joke we had about him touching my breasts so many times on ‘accident’. “No, those actually were accidental. Well, most of the time. There were a couple of times I kind of sort of did it on purpose.” Even in the half-light of his room, I could see a tint of red creeping its way onto his cheeks. It was actually really adorable.

“You’re such a shit,” I chuckled for the second time that night.

He probably thought that I was taking his news really well, but that I was going to turn him down, because he wouldn’t look me in the eyes.

“I’m sorry. See, I told you it was bad timing,” he mumbled, proving my thought correct.

“You’re a shit,” I said simply.

“I know; you’ve told me three times already,”

“No, you’re such a shit-head, Vernon,” I laughed, smacking him lightly on the back of the head. and making fun of him by calling him by his oh-so-hated-middle name.

“Owe, what was that for?” he whined, rubbing his head.

I leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss on his plump lips. We always joked about them being ‘too black for his white-boy body’, but honestly, they were perfect for kissing.

“Remember the last day of your freshman year? When you guys took my so-called ‘pot virginity’ by being the suppliers of my first hit of pot?” I asked lightly, smiling at the memory.

“Yeah,” he responded, slightly dumbstruck by my kiss.

“Half the reason I did it was because I had a little hope that we’d be so high we’d end up kissing or something,” I answered.

“That’s half the reason I wanted you to do it with us,” he smirked. “We’re both shits, aren’t we?”

“Oh yes,” I nodded, kissing him softly again. “And this is probably about the best timing you could have had to tell me this. This is exactly what I needed."