Let's Waste Time

Chris and I had been friends for almost a year when the shift finally happened. We were comfortable with our lives and the friendship we’d established. I still hadn’t met any of his friends, and he’d never met any of mine. We never ran out of movies to watch almost every Sunday, and we left our private lives out of it. We seemed to like it that way.

And maybe it was just the natural progression of our relationship. Or perhaps it was a combination of things like hormones and exacerbated misery. Because when Trent told me that Sasha was pregnant again, I was—crushed.

I knew they were still married, and even if they were in the process of divorcing, they might sometimes still have sex. But this went beyond that. This was a choice to bring a whole human being into the world. And I was starting to feel really, really awful. Not just about the cards fate had dealt me. But about the fact that Sasha probably knew nothing about me. I was the other woman. Mid-divorce or not.

Trent assured me that it was an accident. He wasn’t even sure the kid was his. And because she had this horrible kidney disease that worsened when she was pregnant, she needed his support more than ever. He told me they lived in separate apartments, but he couldn’t leave her because she needed his insurance. Especially now that she was having another kid. And he still wouldn’t get confirmation about whether or not the kid was his until it was born.

I was miserable. And lonely. And maybe some part of me, subconsciously, was looking for a way to set things right.

Though Chris and I never actually talked about personal stuff, he seemed perceptive enough to know something was wrong. He came over after I’d been crying and made a face I now recognized as concern.

“I’m fine,” I told him. “Allergies.” He let it slide and didn’t push me. But our conversations hovered between pleasantly polite and dull.

We never talked about Trent or Heidi. He went to see her sometimes during weekends—a lot more during the summer. And I was pretty sure I’d bumped into them out front once or twice. She was a taller girl. Brunette. With long shiny dark hair and a smile that made me suspect one or more of her parents were dentists. She was pretty in that she fit nicely next to him because they both looked like the stars of boring teen dramas.

I was pretty sure he’d never told Heidi we hung out. He didn’t introduce us when we bumped into each other, and she didn’t seem to know who I was when he nodded a hello. That was okay because I sure as hell didn’t tell Trent about Chris. Not even that I had someone I watched movies with every week. And it wasn’t because I thought Chris and I were doing anything wrong. Mostly because I just didn’t want Trent or Heidi to get upset over something that was supposed to be innocent and simple.

So, of course, we had to give them a reason to be more than upset.

It started on a Sunday night. No, THAT didn’t start just yet. But that was the night we opened our big mouths and threw ourselves into the previously mentioned clusterfuck. I was pretty sure that if things had been slightly different, things wouldn’t have progressed the way they did. If Sasha hadn’t gotten pregnant. If Trent hadn’t broken the news to me like he was telling me a beloved pet had died. If we just hadn’t said what we said.

We were watching Ghostbusters and drinking beer. We’d just devoured an entire medium pizza and didn’t save any room for dessert. I was still sniffling quietly to myself, pretending that I wasn’t and trying not to think about the fact that I was such a huge loser.

Earlier in the day, before my conversation with Trent, I’d run into Chris and his friend at the coffee shop. It was the first time I’d ever met anyone from his circle. I’d been casually eating my pastry and working on my computer when he stepped in with some big hulking jock dude who wore a backward hat and used peace signs as a greeting.

But he was nice to me. So maybe I was just judgey. They both walked up so Chris could say hi, and we talked for a minute about our movie plans. His friend hung around the outskirts of the conversation, pretending not to be too interested. But he didn’t look at me like I was a troll, so I considered that polite.

“Jimmy asked if we were dating,” Chris said as he scratched his head and watched the movie.

“Who?”

“My friend. You met him this morning. He’s on my baseball team. He thought we were meeting up for a date.” I snorted and scoffed at the same time.

“Like that would ever happen.” I knew I offended him just by the look on his face. I wasn’t looking at him, but I could see it from the corner of my eye.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean that I’m a nerd, and you’re a jock. I’m not your type.”

“First of all, those things aren’t mutually exclusive. I thought we already established that I’m as much of a nerd as you are. And second, this isn’t a high school movie, Marley. It’s not like mixing oil and water.”

“You’re a nerd, but you’re also….” I stopped, realizing what almost came out of my mouth.

“A what?” he asked since I didn’t finish. I kept my eyes on the screen.

“A hot nerd. It’s a whole different kind of nerd.” I could see him nod to himself.

“And you don’t think of yourself as a hot nerd?” We were crossing into dangerous territory, and I should have stopped it before it went any further. I’d already told him to his face that I thought he was hot. I was self-sabotaging. And I couldn’t stop. But in my defense, I never thought he’d feel the same about me.

“No,” I said with another laugh. “And I’m definitely not your type.”

“I don’t think you get to decide what my type is. You’re exactly my type.”

Not kinda. Exactly. As if he had a particular type of woman in mind, and I just happened to fit that description to a T.

And then my already whack-ass mind went into hyperdrive. I’d called him hot. Did that mean I was attracted to him? He said I was EXACTLY his type. Did that mean he was attracted to me?

“Even so—Heidi,” I reminded him. I began to chew my nail. This conversation had turned the entire feel of the evening. Suddenly, it felt like we weren’t just friends anymore. Chris and I were, admittedly, hot for each other. Which meant that we could never go back to the way things were before. So, of course, he had to bury us even further.

“We’re actually in an open relationship,” he informed me. I glanced at him. He wasn’t sitting any different than he usually did. Arms crossed over his chest, legs stretched out under the coffee table. Slouched against the back of my couch.

“What does that mean?” He shrugged.

“We dated in high school, and when it came time for us to go our separate ways for college, we had a choice to make. Either stay together and constantly worry about the other cheating, break up, or keep it open. It felt like the best option. That way, we could still be together while keeping our options open. Trying new things. Not worrying about hurting each other. She sees other people. I see other people. We’re cool with it as long as we’re both safe. And we still get to be together. So it works out well for everyone.”

“Huh,” I nodded. “That explains the redhead.”

“You heard that?”

“She was really loud, Chris.”

“Sorry.”

“And Heidi is just okay with that?”

“It was a mutual decision that worked best for both of us. We don’t tell each other the dirty details. But we both know enough. And I don’t think you have any room to judge, Marley. Seeing as how your boyfriend is whole ass married.”

“It’s different.”

“Is it really, though?” He looked at me like I was stupid. “I mean—it’s open for him, isn’t it? Even if it isn’t for you?”

I glared at him. He’d made his dislike of Trent very clear by this point. Usually, he tried to play it cool, but he’d obviously figured out that Trent was married. And there were several instances where I’d said his name, and he’d made this little “mm” sound at the back of his throat. Like he thought Trent was utterly vile.

“Listen,” he said, reaching for his beer again. “I’m not trying to piss you off, and I’m sorry if I’m being an ass.” He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt that just happened to show off every muscle in his arm as he reached across the table. And, of course, I had to notice. “I just think it’s shitty.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You’re right. Of course it isn’t. But you don’t have a right to judge me for making a mutual decision with my girlfriend if your hands aren’t exactly clean, alright?”

“I’ve never cheated on Trent.”

“I never said you were the cheater.”

Now I was fuming. I glared at the TV and wished he’d go home. He’d ruined our friendship. First, by admitting he thought I was his type and then insulting my boyfriend and relationship.

“You don’t know him,” I said.

“Never said I did.”

“Then you don’t get to judge me either.”

“I’m not judging you. I’m just pointing out the obvious.” I glared at him again. This time he was looking back.

“And what’s that exactly?”

“You don’t owe him anything,” he said softly. Like he was trying to be considerate about my tender feelings. “You’re a grown woman. You’re young. You have a right to just—enjoy life. Sex. People.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Enjoying life, sex, and people?” He smiled and nodded.

“Yeah. Because I’m twenty-two years old and not ready to marry my high-school prom date.”

“Do you think you’ll ever be ready?” He shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“What if you change your mind and meet someone you like more than her?”

“Then we break up. That was part of the agreement. We be honest with each other.”

“And if you don’t break up? And you get back together permanently after she finishes school? And you get married and have to tell your kids someday that you fucked around when their mother was in college?”

“Why are you acting like it’s such a shameful thing? It’s not like I plan to share my sexual exploits with my hypothetical future children, Marley. Besides, I’d want to teach them to not make rash decisions.”

“Like cheating?”

“Like marriage. At least not until you’re positive it’s the right person.” I turned back to the TV. “I’m not judging you,” he repeated. “I’m just saying—you should be free to make the decisions that bring you joy. Not the ones that suit the people around you.”

“Decisions that bring me joy. So—sex?”

“Yeah—sex.”

“Okay. I get it. Can we change the subject now?” He shrugged again.

“Fine.”

And that was all it took. It was stupid. Just heated words exchanged between casual friends. But this was how casual friends became casual lovers. This was the moment we both realized we had what the other wanted. Arms. Affection. Someone to share a bed with, mostly. But also someone to listen to me. To talk to. Someone who didn’t ask for much in return except maybe pizza once a week. There didn’t have to be any messy dating business. No wife or kids. Just friends. And sex.

There had always been something there. Something my love-addled brain had refused to see until I was torn between pain and guilt. I always thought Chris was cute. And sometimes, I even admitted that he was as sexually desirable as a man could get. But a relationship never occurred to me because I thought he was so far out of my league it was laughable. But Chris never put himself in a different league from me.

He said I was his type. Exactly his type.

We weren’t friends anymore because Heidi didn’t care if he slept with other women. And my boyfriend had a wife. So I could do whatever the hell I wanted. Chris was right. I didn’t owe Trent anything until that divorce was finalized. We could do what we wanted with each other, and no one else had to know about it. No one could say anything. It didn’t have to get personal or emotional—just sex.

But Chris seemed to pick up on my discomfort. I was sitting tensely on the other end of the couch, no longer paying attention to the movie because I was now thinking about having sex with Chris. And now that was no longer an occasional unexpected dream or a short burst of lust. It was a real possibility.

Of course, he could have just said I was his type to be nice. Maybe he didn’t want to hurt my feelings. He didn’t outright say he wanted to go to bed with me. And perhaps I was just reading too far into things. But I was reading between the lines. Or at least I was picking up what wasn’t said.

You have the freedom to do what brings you joy. Enjoy life, sex, and people. With Chris.

We had a comfortable thing going on. And now I was overthinking it. I was lonely. And not just in an emotional way. At least, at first. I was trying to put this too nicely. I was lonely in a physical way. I wanted to get laid. And Chris probably was too. Because despite his admission of this open relationship, I’d only ever seen him bring a girl (other than Heidi) home once. And that had been months ago.

The silence was growing between us. And it felt charged and electric. Sure, if things had been different, we still could have been friends after this. But Chris was either in the same thought tornado that I was in, or he was picking up on mine and coming up with his own escape plans.

He cleared his throat. Obviously uncomfortable.

“Hey, uh—I’m gonna head home early tonight,” he said. I nodded and kept my eyes on my beer bottle.

“Yeah—okay,” I replied.

“See you.”

“Bye.” He got up and left without bothering to help me clean up. I put my head in my hands. “Shit, shit, shit,” I said to myself.