I Can See Clearly Now

Come on.

A groggy voice responded. "Hello? Simone?"

Relief at hearing him answer poured through her. "H-hi, Michael."

"It's two-thirty. What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I... I just needed a friendly voice."

"All right." His confusion was plain but he asked, "Did something bad happen? You and Emma have a fight or something? Do you need me to come over?"

"No, Emma's..." She trailed off.

I could tell him--tell him the woman he loves is out there in the living room bareback-fucking some creep who hit on me while he was still balls deep in her. That's the love of his life. She's so unworthy of him, she... she...

Simone closed her eyes. She'd just be hurting Michael if she did that. He already knew about Emma's proclivities and he still felt the way he felt. She couldn't do anything about it but she didn't have to make him feel bad.

"Emma's fine, she made it home but she passed out. We didn't fight or anything. I just... had a nightmare. I got scared and wanted to hear someone that made me happy. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Oh, it's fine." He yawned. "Sorry you had a bad dream."

She snuggled into her blankets. "Did you all have fun tonight?"

"I suppose so. I only had one beer."

Simone caught the guarded hint in his words. "But?"

He sighed. "Gary and Jake both bailed early. Emma drank a lot. She was flirting with some linebacker on the football team. I kinda saw where things were headed and I didn't want to stay and watch it."

"I'm sorry, Michael."

"You sure are. You're one sorry, sad sack."

She laughed. "Fuck you."

"Promises, promises. I'll be over tomorrow, so you'll have a chance for more snappy comments."

"For?"

"I told Emma I'd take her to get her car. She wanted to stay with Biff or Ox or whatever his name was, so she left it at campus after the test, and asked me if I would take her to pick it up tomorrow."

Seriously? She goes off to fuck some douche bag and asks Michael to hang around on a Saturday so she can pick up her car? She knows damn well how he feels about her and exploits it every time she turns around! Exasperated, Simone's exhale came out as a harsh snort. "Michael... you're not a taxi service. Emma can pick up her own damn car."

"No," he said stubbornly, "I said I would take care of it, so I will. You know, doing that thing where I keep my word?"

Simone shook her head. Her irritation fled, replaced by mixed longing and sadness for the man on the other side of the line. Her voice was soft to her own ears. "Our freaking knight in shining armor. Always willing to help a damsel in distress."

"I try."

"I probably should have come with you all. Then I could have brought her car home."

He laughed. "I would have had more fun if you had."

"You didn't have anyone to pick on, is that it?"

"Well, there is that but no. Whether we're jabbing each other or not, I love spending time with you. You're awesome."

"Why didn't you say that, Michael? If you had, I would have come out in a heartbeat."

"You wanted to go home and lie down, which I thought was a good idea, so you could rest and get rid of your headache. I wouldn't want you to come out with us just to be miserable."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you have to take care of yourself."

He was thinking of me and what I wanted. Simone's breath caught in her throat. Her skin flushed and her heart beat so loud she was sure he could hear it. She wiped her misty eyes and whispered, "Thank you, Michael."

"For what?"

"For being you."

They fell silent. For a moment, she thought he might have drifted off to sleep before Michael said, "Simone?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you date anyone steadily?"

Boy, that's the mother of all questions I don't want to answer. She stalled. "What, you mean like a boyfriend?"

"Yeah."

"I guess the right person hasn't asked me out yet."

"You'll never know if they're the right person if you don't ever let them stick around long enough."

"I could ask you the same question," she said. "You haven't been out with any girl more than three times since I've known you."

He didn't answer for a second and when he did, his voice was resigned. "I know who the right person is, even if she hasn't figured it out yet."

"What if she never does? What are you going to do, wait forever?"

"I hope not."

"Maybe she's not the right person."

"She..." He sighed. "I don't know."

They were silent again.

Simone's thoughts screamed at her. Just tell him! She wanted to, so badly, but the fear of rejection--of wrecking their friendship dynamic--loomed large in her mind. She'd heard characters in books and movies say they'd rather have the person they loved in their life as a friend, even if they couldn't have them as a lover. Better to have them a little than not at all, those characters said.

I'm calling bullshit on that. This isn't better, this sucks.

"Simone? You still there?"

"Yeah."

"You and Emma want to come over for breakfast in the morning? I'm going to make omelets. Say, around nine o'clock? I can take her to get her car afterward."

For just a millisecond, Simone was tempted to go without even telling Emma about it. Michael was a great cook and had made them meals before. Not only did Emma not deserve it, but Simone also didn't want to share it with her friend this time. She thought, I don't have to tell her. I can just tell Michael she couldn't make it. I... She slumped. No, I have to be honest. If I didn't tell her and he found out, he wouldn't trust me. She took a deep breath. "Nine sounds good. I'll ask Emma in the morning but you know I'll be there. Can we bring anything?"

"Just yourselves."

"Okay." Simone clutched the phone in both hands. "Michael, can you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Can you just... talk to me until I fall asleep? I know that's asking a lot but--"

His muffled laughs came through the line. "About what? Any particular topic?"

Not Emma! "No. Tell me a story?"

"For you? Sure."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"No problem. Did I ever tell you about the time my cousin and I were fishing and when he threw his rod back to cast, he hooked a bee's nest, and we got chased across the field by a swarm?"

Simone let out a relieved chuckle."No, but this sounds good."

"I was ten or eleven at the time. We were visiting family in Alabama. My aunt and uncle's place backs up to a pond that was stocked with a bunch of bluegill and other sunfish. So Bobby asks me to go down and fish with him, and I agree. It was a nice day..."

The rhythmic beat of Michael's soothing voice faded to the edge of her awareness. Simone snuggled deeper into the blankets. She held the phone to her ear and closed her eyes.

Her last waking thought was that she would happily listen to him talk every single night of her life, before she fell asleep with a smile on her lips.

She woke to the daylight creeping through her window. A glance at the clock told her it was a little after seven. Simone stretched. Her fingers jarred against her cell phone, still in the bed with her. The thought made her grin.

She climbed out of bed and saw the chair under the door handle. The foggy events of a few hours past came rushing back. Her smile vanished. Simone wanted to take a shower but given the way Emma's guy had looked at her, there was no way in hell she was doing that if he was still in the apartment. She removed the chair and cautiously opened the door.

The couch was vacant, though the coffee table was covered with empty beer cans and the now-empty bottle of vodka. Evidently, they'd kept right on drinking in between fuck sessions. The door to Emma's bedroom was closed, so Simone approached and knocked. "Emma? You awake?" No answer. She knocked a little harder. "Emma?"

A gruff, half-asleep male voice drifted from the other side. "She's sleeping, fuck off."

Simone glowered at being barked at in her own apartment but left the door without another word.

She'd gotten what she wanted anyway.

#

MICHAEL

The knock at the front door brought him up short. He looked at the clock, placed the knife on the cutting board, and answered. "Hey, Simone, come on in." He raised his eyebrows and peered past her as did. "No Emma?"

"Sorry, she's sleeping in."

"I... see."

Michael did see. Simone hadn't said it directly but he was sure Emma had taken that guy from the bar home to fuck his brains out and was probably sleeping off the excess of booze and sexual fervor. It pained him to imagine her writhing in the meaty grip of some asshole but he kept telling himself that she was her own woman and could be with who she wanted. He understood that but that understanding did not make it hurt any less.

It also brought a hint of irritation--irritation at himself for wasting his time pining for someone who didn't return the feeling.

He met Simone's eyes and could tell that she knew what he was thinking. He smiled then; Simone had always been so intuitive about his feelings toward Emma. Her consideration and empathy were two of the things that made him treasure her and their friendship.

You know what? Screw Emma. Simone and I can enjoy our breakfast. He said, "You're a little early but it's fine."

"Yeah." She had a soft bag slung over her shoulder. "Before we eat, I was actually hoping I could ask a favor of you."

"Shoot."

"Can I use your shower? The one in our place is..." She looked away. "... unavailable."

He wondered if Emma's guy had made her feel uneasy and while the thought of Emma and the meathead was annoying, Michael was surprised that he was actually angry on Simone's behalf, that she was so uncomfortable in her own residence that she'd have to leave just to use a shower. He'd wanted to think Emma was more considerate than that.

This is just par for the course with Emma, if I'm honest about it. "Yeah, of course you can. I'm not quite ready to cook up everything yet anyway."

She smiled. "Great, I only need about fifteen minutes."

Michael found her a towel, left her to it, and returned to the kitchen. He mentally gauged the portions of ingredients he'd chopped and bagged up a third of it for the freezer.

I should have known Emma would be a no-show. I mean, when is she in my life except when she wants something? She's made her feelings pretty clear, Mikey old-boy, and she thinks of you as just a friend, if even that. Not a damn thing I do is going to make her think otherwise. So, why do I do this to myself? I'd be much better off chasing someone who wanted me back.

At that thought, Simone's face came to mind. Michael frowned at that, wondering why. He sighed and resumed chopping. He'd been at it about ten minutes when Simone reappeared in the kitchen. He did a double-take, stopped what he was doing, and stared at her.

She'd clearly been through the shower, since her dark hair was wet. Instead of keeping it clipped to the back of her head, where only a few stray strands could escape, she'd left the wavy mass hanging down, to frame her face and tumble across her shoulders. She'd eschewed her standard baggy shirts and cargo pants for a tight tank top and pair of bicycle shorts, revealing miles of leg covered with smooth brown skin. Her breasts stood out, high and proud and in a flash, Michael realized that because she always dressed in loose clothes that hid her body, he'd never recognized that Simone was far bigger in the chest than Emma. Her cleavage-bearing top made that fact apparent enough. Sure, she was curvier than her friend, with wider hips and thicker legs, but in no way would he consider her less appealing. Simone grinned at him, twirling her glasses by one arm.

He stammered, "Uh, that's a different style for you."

"Yeah, since we're just hanging out, I wanted to be comfortable. You got a problem with it?"

"A little cold for the streets of Lincoln in October, isn't it? You're going to freeze your tits off out there." He noticed her trembling. "Are you cold right now?"

"Let me worry about my tits. I'll put on my sweats and coat before I go back out--and no, I'm fine." She gave him a shaky smile and slid her glasses up over her nose. "And if I get too cold, you'll keep me warm, right?"

Michael swallowed hard.

They made small talk while he prepped their omelets, with Simone hovering at his elbow--or rather, Michael tried to make small talk, when he could tear his attention away from her. She'd used some flowery body wash that invaded his nostrils and tickled his desire. Michael knew he'd never smell that scent again without thinking of her. He did his best to avoid staring down her low-cut shirt, though with her being right under his nose, it was difficult. At least once, he could tell she caught him ogling. Oddly enough, she didn't seem mad. Instead, she'd looked rather pleased.

Stop it! he yelled at himself. This is Simone. You're friends and that's all. Right?

Even as he asked himself the question, Michael knew there was no easy answer. He looked at her again and his feelings of attraction grew. He fished for something--anything--to distract himself. "So... big plans for the rest of the weekend?"

"Well, I plan on starting by having a great breakfast with some chump." She beamed a smile at him. "I'm sure at some point today, I'll have to drag my oldest and dearest's dumb ass to her car."

"I said I would do that."

"Nah." Simone patted his arm. "You don't need to sit around waiting for her to get through her hangover. Let me do that for you, okay? It's the least I could do in exchange for breakfast."

She aimed another toothy smile at him and all Michael could do was nod in dumb fascination.

Simone picked out the fillings she wanted for her omelet. Michael put the skillet on the burner to warm up. He finished the last of his coffee, only to be surprised when she poured him a fresh cup, mixed sweetener and cream, and offered it to him. He took a cautious sip. It was prepared exactly as he liked it.

She raised an eyebrow. "Did I get it right?"

"Yes, it's perfect. How, uh, did you know?"

She shrugged. "I've been watching you drink coffee for years. I just knew." Her eyes lingered on his.

Michael tore his gaze away and focused on his skillet. A few minutes later, he had two omelets ready, which he served with a flourish. "Your meal, madame."

Simone giggled. "Thank you."

They chatted about inconsequential things while they ate: school, news, local gossip. Simone told him about her dad's promotion to regional director at his business and about how proud all her family was for him. Michael watched her with a small smile on his lips. Simone was animated and alive. Her eyes sparkled and her joy and enthusiasm were evident. He realized he was happy just watching her be happy. He even reached out and took her fingers from her mouth again, saving her fingernails. The action had become so automatic between them that neither of them acknowledged it--the thought of which made Michael smile.

She really is awesome. We get along so well and I love our time together.

Simone caught his gaze and stopped. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just enjoying watching you."

She blushed and looked away. The rosy tint made her cheeks absolutely glow. One of her hands moved to shield her cleavage, though it was such a subtle reaction, Michael thought it was more automated modesty than real discomfort. She murmured, "Well, stop it."

He laughed. "Okay."

Simone stood with her plate. "That was delicious, Michael. Thank you again."

"Of course." She reached for his plate but he shook his head. He said, "I can get it."

"No, let me."

"I--"

His hand fell over hers as they both reached for his dish. Simone froze, like the proverbial deer in the headlights.

Michael could not tear his gaze from hers. They stared at each other for several seconds.

At last, Simone lowered her eyes. She moved to the dishwasher with her plate and silverware.

Michael stayed where he was. He passed one shaking hand over his brows. Wow. That was intense.

He was still there a few minutes later when Simone threw on her outer layers of clothes, said her hurried goodbyes, and left. He paced around his apartment. In the space of a few moments, the atmosphere had somehow gone from feeling vibrant and pleasant to empty and lifeless, as if the joy had been drained from the room.

He sat on the couch and tried to figure out what had just happened.

#

SIMONE

She climbed into her car, shut the door, and gripped the steering wheel in taut fingers.

I wonder if Michael knows how close he came to me jumping him just now.

She'd emerged from the bathroom dressed in the skimpiest clothes she owned--basically what she wore to bed. Her frayed nerves had made her so nauseous that Simone had thought for a moment she was going to be sick. She'd had no idea what Michael would do or say when he saw her. The idea that he might chastise her appearance--or worse, ignore her--filled her with terror.

His reaction had been everything she had wanted.

His eyes had gotten big and she'd caught his gaze running up and down her body, taking it all in. Normally, such attention would have made Simone's skin crawl but coming from Michael, she'd felt nothing but warmth, joy, and excitement.

Breakfast had been awesome. Michael had not been able to take his eyes off her; his attention never left what she was doing or saying, right up until the time their hands had touched when she tried to collect his plate. Staring into each other's eyes had done nothing but ignite her lust. Simone had, with some dismay, felt herself getting wetter with every second of contact, She'd broken away, quickly thrown on her clothes, thanked Michael for breakfast, and hurried out.

She took a deep breath.

God, I want him so bad. This is just not fair.

The thought brought a bitter laugh. Her mother had always told her that life wasn't fair. How right she'd been.

Simone drove home on instinct; her mind drifted, unable to focus on anything other than her memory of the look on Michael's face when she entered the kitchen. Before she knew it, she was back at her place. She got out and pulled her bulky jacket closed. If Emma's boy-toy was still there, Simone didn't really want him scoping her out any more than he had the night before. Steeling herself, she went up to her apartment.

Emma and her "friend" sat at their tiny two-person kitchen table. She wore a tee shirt and flannel pajama bottoms; him, jeans and a polo shirt. Emma slumped, resting her elbows on the table surface and holding her head in her hands. A steaming cup of coffee sat before each of them.

"Hey," Simone said as she shut the door. She caught the guy's eyes on her and despite her shower, she instantly felt dirty again. "How'd you sleep?"

"Okay," Emma croaked. "Hungover. You go out?"

"Brilliant deduction, Einstein."

"Don't be a smartass, please. Sarcasm hurts my head at the moment. Where'd you go?"

"Michael asked us over for breakfast."

Emma frowned and glared at her. "Why didn't you wake me?"

She avoided looking at their guest. "I knocked on your door and was told to fuck off."

The guy scowled but to Simone's satisfaction, Emma winced and lowered her eyes. After a second, she sighed. "Okay, sorry about that."

"You don't have to apologize to me, apologize to Michael when you see him. I got a fantastic meal out of it." Simone knew she was twisting the knife but she couldn't help it. "He'd done a lot of prep work for us and was a little upset that you weren't there. It's fine, he and I had a great time anyway."

"Okay, I get it." She hesitated. "Did you tell him why I wasn't there?"

"I just said you were sleeping in."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Let me know when you're ready. I'll take you to pick up your car."