Let's Waste Time

It only got progressively weirder between Chris and me. He came by the following week just like always, but something had obviously changed between us. We sat tensely on opposite sides of the couch and didn't talk.

I knew he was hot, and I'd admitted that to myself already. But I hadn't toyed with the fact that I was genuinely attracted to him. I must not have recognized it for what it really was because I never thought it would matter. And I knew what it felt like to be attracted to someone you wanted to have a life with. I didn't want that with Chris. I didn't want to marry him, have babies, or even just date. I loved Trent with all my heart. And I had every intention of spending my life with him.

But it wasn't my heart that was taking notice of Chris now.

God, he had such strong legs and arms. He could probably carry me right to bed. Probably do all the work, and I wouldn't have to do anything. And he was probably immaculate under all his clothes. I'd seen him once in his underwear, but I'd turned so red I had to hide my face and hadn't taken a good look. But I saw enough. Enough to know. And yet—not enough to really know. Just enough to speculate.

We tried our usual small talk, but somehow it resulted in, "So how are things with Heidi?" "Have you spoken to Trent recently? Haven't seen him in a while?" "Oh, that's a shame that your girlfriend isn't here and won't be for a while."

Are they still gone? Not going to be around anytime soon? Still enough time to destroy our friendship and completely betray the people we loved?

But it was never easy. Never simple. Of course, it wasn't. Because if it was, I wouldn't have to go through the trouble of retelling it. I could have easily said that we fucked like rabbits and went our separate ways, and nothing ever came from that. But the truth was so much more.

He usually sat on my couch with his back slouched against the cushions and his arms over his chest. He'd stretch his long legs out under or on the coffee table, and we'd both feel at ease and safe. But now, he sat with his back straight and his hands on his lap. I curled up on the opposite side of the couch, biting my nails and tapping my feet as I tried so hard not to think about what he probably looked like naked. Our friendship had gone down the drain, and there was no recovery from this.

The following week, he canceled. He had practice. They were working him hard. We'd have to take a rain check. Then I canceled. I had to work late. I had to make up hours. One week turned into two, into three, into four. And we only managed to get together once a month if we were lucky. Only he usually left early. We never talked. It was all gone. Up in smoke.

Then I finished work one night, knowing in my heart that Chris wouldn't show up. He hadn't for the past few weeks. I was tired, and the day was hot. So I decided to jump in the shower. If he did manage to show up, he'd probably be late.

But I was wrong. I was still naked as the day I was born, wiping the fog off the bathroom mirror when the doorbell rang.

I was nosy by nature. My mom used to get mad at me because I'd haul ass to the door every time someone rang the bell, even if it was someone she was trying to avoid (or in the dead of night). I didn't care. I needed to know who wanted to talk to me and why. It didn't matter that I was naked. I grabbed a towel anyway. And for whatever reason, Chris was the last person I expected.

But there he was, standing on the stoop, balancing a pizza and a six-pack. He was smiling, like he was working up the courage to just be friends with me again. But I saw his expression shift when I opened the door. The subtle change from friendly to tense. His eyes went a little wider. His expression a little more manic as he tried not to look too shocked.

"Hey," I said when he failed to say something.

"Um—hey. I brought pizza. I can reschedule."

"Oh—it's okay. Let me just get dressed really quick. You can let yourself in." But neither of us moved. He didn't ask me to get out of the way, and I couldn't get my feet to start walking. He stared intently at my face as if he was doing everything he could to not look down.

So I just nodded, forced myself to smile, and turned to shuffle away. I heard the door shut behind me. I was staring at my feet, feeling like I was racing against something, as I hurried to my bedroom.

"Hey," he said. I turned halfway to my bedroom just to see what he wanted. He was standing by the couch, looking tall and beautiful. He set the pizza and beer down. "We should probably talk." My heart was pounding. Why was my heart pounding? I felt like I could barely breathe. Like I was on the cusp of something and didn't even know it.

"Talk about what?" I asked. He stepped around the side of the couch to come closer to me. And he smelled good. I never mentioned it before. But he always did. Even when he'd just gotten back from baseball practice. He always smelled clean and warm, and inviting.

"About what I said before. When all this weirdness started. I know it upset you when I said that about Trent." I shook my head, confused.

"What did you say about Trent?" Now his eyebrows furrowed. He'd gotten closer to me. Close enough that I could touch him if I wasn't such a coward.

"I said some shitty things—that night when things got weird. We kind of got a little snappy at each other. And nothing's been the same since."

"Oh—I forgot." His eyes narrowed.

"Then why have you been acting so weird? All this time, I thought you were mad that I insulted your boyfriend." I looked toward the floor.

"I think I'm just, uh—going through a bit of a thing. And I thought things got weird between us. It isn't about anything you said about Trent. It's about what you said about…." I shut my mouth before it spilled out. He seemed to piece it together.

"Heidi."

"Kind of."

"About us having an open relationship?"

"Kind of."

"Warmer?" I immediately felt hot and confused all at once.

"What?"

"Am I getting warmer? Closer to the issue?"

"Oh—yeah." He nodded slowly, probably noticing now how I'd reacted. It was just word. It wasn't even a sexy one. Why did the word "warmer" make my entire body turn to mush?

God, he had a nice voice.

"Is it because I said you were my type?" he concluded.

"Yeah—I mean—I know it's stupid. It's just—it got to me. I've been thinking a lot—about things. About you. And uh—you know what? I'm gonna go get dressed. I'd rather not have this conversation while I'm naked." I turned again, intending to hide in my room for eternity. But he spoke again.

"Why not?" I spun back around.

"What?" He shrugged.

"Why not have this conversation while you're naked?"

"I don't think it would be a very good idea, do you?" He shrugged again.

"I think it's a terrible idea."

"I don't want our friendship to be over."

"It doesn't have to be. Friendships go through different phases. You know I'm not looking for a girlfriend. I know you have someone too. Maybe this is just one of our phases. We go our separate ways when we no longer have the same goals."

"And what about Heidi?"

"She's cool with whatever I do as long as I'm honest about it."

"And Trent?" He shifted on his feet, obviously not wanting to hurt my feelings again.

"He's married, Marley. I think as long as he is, you're pretty much in the same boat I am. You don't owe him anything. It's your life. It's just sex. You can do whatever you want."

And that was all the confirmation I needed. Chris did want to have sex with me. And I wanted him too. But it was one thing to speculate and another to hear him say it so bluntly.

He took another step forward—another step toward the future and that mother of all clusterfucks.

"Just tell me to leave, and I will," he said. "I'll never bring it up again. You can avoid me for the rest of your life for all I care."

"I don't want you to leave. I think that's the problem."

"I don't want to date you, and I know you don't want to date me."

"I don't feel that way about you."

"But you want me?" He was staring into my eyes, waiting for me to answer. And even though I knew there were thousands of reasons I shouldn't, my mind was suddenly too hazy to remember them.

The word "Yes," slipped out of my mouth before I could catch it.

"I want you too." I was done for.

"I'm just—I don't really want to go through the whole beginning period—you know—where we don't really know what we like, and it takes a while to get used to it?" His eyebrows furrowed again as if he had no idea what I was talking about.

"If that's how you think it's going to be, then you obviously haven't been having very good sex."

"It's just complicated—and time-consuming."

"Say no, and I'll leave, Marley."

"I don't want to say no."

"Then it won't be complicated with me."

I felt water drip off of my hair and slide down my shoulder. He finally let his eyes shift to it, watching it trail down my arm. He was close enough now that he could easily reach out and wipe it away with the pad of his thumb. He'd never touched me. Not really. Not like that anyway. My breath caught. My stomach rolled.

"I don't want anything emotional to come from this," I stated. "Just sex." He nodded and took a deep breath.

"Of course. We're on the same page. That's good. As long as we stay honest with each other about it."

"Right. Good plan. And no kissing. It's weirdly personal for me. More intimate. Less—sexy. More—loving. You know?" He nodded slowly, not bothering to hold his eyes in check anymore. They moved up and down my body as if he was calculating how fast he could get the towel off me.

"Can I kiss other parts of you?" he asked.

And that was all it took—the final straw. The moment a rubber band gets stretched too far, it snaps. My brain went out the window. My body took over. I reached for his shirt and yanked him toward my bedroom. He stumbled back when I pushed him toward my bed. He had his shirt up over his head before I even got the towel off.

"I hate admitting this, but I'm actually not super kinky," I explained. I walked to my nightstand to get the pack of condoms I kept stashed there. He was unbuckling his belt, eyes on me.

"I'm easy to please. Not looking for anything like that."

"Oral is great. Both ways. But I'm selfish, and I'd rather get than give, you know what I mean?" He laughed and dropped his pants.

"Perfect. I love getting, but not as much as I love giving. It does something to me, you know? When you guys...." He bit his lip as if anticipating me doing whatever it was. My knees felt weak. I couldn't wait to find out.

"Then we'll probably do just fine," I joked.

I got the condom and turned back to him. Then he had me by the waist. He spun me around and dropped me onto my back. I was already completely naked. But he was still in his boxers. So I laced my fingers and began to yank them down.

Then, of course, we were far too gone to ever be able to sit in the same room together again. I'd never not be able to picture him naked. He was immaculate. Just like I thought he'd be. And I thought, then, that this could go one of two ways. Either, he'd be awful. And it would be embarrassing. And we'd slowly ignore each other until we weren't friends anymore. Or he'd be spectacular. And I'd be in over my head. And we'd never be able to exist in the same space without me thinking of what it's like to fuck him.

But this story isn't about an awkward encounter with a neighbor. At its heart, it's about one thing. You could argue it's about a clusterfuck. About how my life went in a completely different direction than I anticipated and someone I thought was so wrong turned out to be so right. But even deeper than that, it's about love.

Like most things with Chris, it happened later. When I least expected it. When I was too caught up in my own misery to notice what was right in front of me. Chris was spectacular, of course. In all ways. And one day I'd learn to recognize it for what it really was. One day, I'd want to love him too.