Let's Waste Time

When I returned from the coffee shop on Friday morning, I ran into Chris at the front door. We bumped into each other just as he was leaving for work. He was wearing a beanie, and it didn't look like he'd shaved since the last time I'd seen him. His eyes were bright in the morning light. Bright enough to match the blue sky above us now that the sea fog had rolled out.

"Hey," he said as I balanced my computer bag on my shoulder and dug inside it for my key. I nodded back.

"Hey, what's up?"

"You still on for Sunday?"

"Still on. I forgot to ask, though. You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Cool. I have to hurry up and get back to work. I'll see you later."

"Alright, bye." Then he hopped down the steps to his car, which was too small for him, and I hurried inside to where it was slightly warmer.

On Sunday, I decided it might be cheaper to learn how to cook something other than microwaved meals and spaghetti. By the time six rolled around, I decided that wasn't going to happen. So I called for takeout anyway. I did manage to make a batch of brownies. But it was mostly just because I was craving brownie batter, and it was on sale. I just didn't want Chris to think I made them because I thought he was special or anything. He was. But I didn't know that yet.

Eventually, we decided that Sunday was the best night for both of us since it was the only day we both usually had off. So every Sunday, we would meet up to watch a movie and eat takeout. Then one day, I realized I always looked forward to hanging out with him. Which, of course, made me realize that we were friends. Like actual full-fledged friends. But in that natural way where you don't have to talk a whole lot about your life, and both of you are perfectly fine with the silence.

We weren't close friends, exactly. Like I definitely couldn't call him to bail me out of jail, and I probably would die before I ever borrowed money from him. But we were close enough friends that I didn't even question it when he showed up on the stoop one day in his underwear to ask if he could borrow some creamer for his coffee.

I did, however, look at his butt when he turned and left. If my brain could make a complete thought, I would have noticed how my skin suddenly felt too hot. But I didn't. So I pretended it was just a natural, accidental peek and shrugged it off.

We were just movie buddies. We'd sit in front of the TV, laugh, and talk occasionally, but our conversations never got too personal. And if they did start to head in that direction, neither of us would push it. It was just good, uncomplicated fun. And, of course, it was destined to never last. Because whether or not I noticed it, there was a weird tension that was growing between us. Something that would someday grow too strong to go unnoticed for much longer.

At first, it was easy to brush it off as nothing at all. Normal hormones. Not even worth making a note of. He had a nice face—a nice body. We laughed, and we were friends. It was normal to recognize that the other person was attractive, even if they weren't in your league. Just like it was perfectly normal to have the occasional sex dream about them. That wasn't unusual at all. I'd had sex dreams before. About people I'd never have sex with in a million years. So it wasn't a red flag. Even when it was being waved directly in my face.

At least until Trent came to visit when Chris was supposed to come to watch a movie with me. He arrived just at six, like usual. But instead of being ready to meet him, I was lying in my bed beside Trent, twiddling my thumbs in boredom since he'd passed out. When the doorbell rang, I bolted out of bed and threw my clothes on to meet him. Partially because I was eager to talk to someone. And also because I'd forgotten.

When I pulled the door open, Chris stood on the stoop, glowing in the porchlight between our two doors.

"Shit, I forgot!" I exclaimed. He seemed mildly surprised. We'd done this just about every Sunday for months. How could I have forgotten already?

"It's cool," he said anyway. With a soft laugh.

"I kind of have someone over. It's probably better if we just cancel this week." He smiled and nodded. I felt guilty for ruining our plans. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. And that should have been another flag. Because I usually wouldn't have cared.

"Boyfriend?" he asked with a sly smile.

"Yeah. He's kind of—asleep."

"It's cool, Marley. I suppose you don't want this veggie burger then." He lifted the bag and dangled it, enticing me with the scent of greasy fries.

"I've never had one. Is it good?" He opened the bag and handed over a yellow-wrapped burger and a cup of fries.

"Guess you'll have to see for yourself. Eat it hot, though, or it gets soggy. They don't make good leftovers. They're like ninety percent mushroom and tofu."

"You're the best, you know that?" I said, balancing the food in my arms. I hadn't eaten yet, and I was starving. Trent was supposed to get dinner with me, but he was exhausted from his flight. I could already feel myself getting dizzy just thinking about food.

"I know. So next Sunday then?"

"No plans that I know of. Sorry for not warning you. It was a layover."

"No worries. I'll see you then. We still need to finish Indiana Jones."

"I haven't forgotten that part. Last Crusade next. I'll be there. Here. Thanks for the burger. I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Brownies?"

"You got it." He smiled and waved and went back to his apartment.

Since Trent was still asleep, I figured he wouldn't mind if I had dinner without him. I sat on the couch, crossed my legs, and tore into the wrapper. But I still felt awful for blowing Chris off. And I was bored. I would have loved to watch Indiana Jones with him. Not that I didn't enjoy Trent's visits. Especially the unexpected ones. But I knew he wouldn't be cool about me spending time with Chris while he slept in the other room. He'd be jealous. And that should have been another flag or clue or something waving in my face saying, 'Why would Trent be jealous if you're just friends?'

He woke up a few minutes later. I heard his footsteps on the hardwood floor behind me. Then he leaned over the back of the couch to kiss my neck from behind.

"Mm, what'd you get?" he asked. His black hair was disheveled and tickled my shoulders as he leaned against me.

"It's a veggie burger. It's magnificent. You want some?" I held it up to him, but he grimaced.

"Sounds disgusting. No thanks."

"Sorry I didn't wake you up. A friend brought it over. I do have some frozen dinners if you want some. Or we could order something."

"I'll go heat something up."

"Okay."

I chewed on my burger and watched him walk into the kitchen. He was smaller than Chris was. But they were just built differently. Trent was a pilot who had a family. Chris played sports, did construction, and jogged every morning, no matter how late we stayed up. It wasn't a bad thing that Trent was kind of scrawny and had no butt. I'd always gone after skinnier guys anyway. But that was probably because no muscular guy had ever asked me out. I did appreciate the occasional hot muscular superhero. But in that unattainable way. Trent was attainable attractive. Unlike Chris. Who was—well—immaculate.

Clue number three. I should have seen it. I should have paid more attention to the trail of my thoughts or the flag-waving directly in my face. I felt terrible about canceling our plans. I didn't want Trent to know about Chris because I knew he'd put a stop to it. And I was pointing out their differences.

Chris showed up just as planned the following Sunday, and we continued our regular routine. I liked that he was my friend without complications. He didn't care that I'd ditched him for my boyfriend, or at least he said nothing about it. I didn't care that he sometimes spent our movie nights texting his girlfriend. Sometimes he'd head home to Oakland for a weekend and ditch me too, and then when he'd get home, we'd go back to our regular pattern as if nothing interrupted it.

He wasn't as close a friend as Todd, Doug, or Albert. But we got along well enough; sometimes, it was nice to have someone around who liked watching the same movies. Not that the other guys didn't also like those movies. Just that we'd already watched them together a million times. And our movie sessions usually turned into deep character analysis or how many marshmallows we could shove into our mouths all at once.

Chris and I didn't even have each other's phone numbers. And I liked it that way. It kept things distant. Because if I had more than one brain cell to knock around my skull, I might have realized that I didn't have a crush on Chris because I thought he was out of my league. But some part of me recognized it subconsciously. I wanted to keep things distant because deep down, I knew that once we crossed that line, there would be no coming back.

But all friendships are destined to change in some way or another. Either we'd become great friends like I was with the guys. Or we'd start to care about each other and meddle in business that wasn't ours to meddle in. We'd cross a boundary and fuck it up. Or maybe we'd just decide we couldn't stand each other. Or, like in our case, it would get sexual, and then it would be damaged beyond repair.