The Fundamentals of Friendship Pt. 03

He stood close enough now that the table I was working on was the only thing separating us. I noticed he had two purplish semi circles under his eyes. His night must had been just as restless as mine.

"Ry-"

"Ells-"

Our worlds collided. We both laughed awkwardly.

He stuck his hands in his pockets resembling, for a second there, the boy he once was, with limbs unproportionally long and ungraceful. "You go."

"You," I countered.

He nodded. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

In spite of myself, I smiled at his concern. "I am."

His brows went up, suspicious of me. "Are you?"

"Yeah."

"Why don't I believe that?"

I had to laugh. Funny how I could never get away with such white lies, but was so disgustingly good at hiding big secrets from him. "I had a fight with Rocco." I only realized how much I needed to talk to him about it once the words were out. I also realized how unfair it was to make him hear it.

My mentioning Rocco put a sour look on Ry's face. We both fell into a consuming silence that filled every corner of the bland white kitchen. I buried my fingers in the buttery dough in front of me, scrambling my brain for something to say, for a way to stop my heart from crushing my chest from the inside out.

"Riley." I was staring at my fingers, though I could still feel his eyes on me. "I wanted to tell you...I'm-"

"Don't."

I glanced up to meet his eyes. The hurtful look he had on made me wince. "I have to-"

"Please don't," he cut me off. "Don't say you're sorry."

I nodded. Mouth shut. I still wanted to say it. A million times over. Sorry for being so stupid and not seeing what was right under my nose. Sorry for being such a coward. Sorry for being so selfish. Sorry for lying.

"You don't have to apologize for anything, Laura," he said. It stung, as it always did, when he used my name like that. "I tried my best to hide it from you."

I heard myself chuckle, involuntarily. "Why?" I'd spent the night asking myself why he had chosen that moment to speak up when he had always been in love with me, had never stopped, actually, when I myself had believed that those feelings had remained in the past with those younger versions of ourselves.

He ran a nervous hand through his hair, exhaling loudly. A reaction that meant I wouldn't like what he had to say. "I didn't think that was something you wanted to know."

That took me by surprise. "Why would you think that?"

Riley tilted his head, brows knitting together. "You have always insisted on the friendship thing. Even when we were sleeping together, you went out of your way to make it clear we were just friends who liked to fuck. Every time I tried to talk to you about us you'd evade me." His voice grew harsher as he spoke. Tense lines appearing on his face. "You never gave me any indication of wanting more, Laura. Never. Not until my birthday party five years ago."

I parted my lips, ready to defend myself because I hardly remembered anything about that night. But then it hit me; he was right. I had no argument to use against him.

The sudden silence that settled around us was violently deafening. My eyes burned, I gave my back to Riley for just a minute so I could breathe and remember that we were supposed to have a civil conversation. I couldn't let it turn into a fight.

"Look, Ry," I said, turning back around. "I really am so-"

"Oh Christ! Don't say you're sorry again!" His exasperation startled us both. "I don't want you to be sorry. I told you I loved you because I love you! Because I needed you to finally know it! And I, for once, am not sorry I said it."

"I'm glad you told me, Ry. I am." I saw it was the wrong thing to say because his expression suddenly changed from bordering anger to bordering hope. "But I'm not sorry you said it, or even that you...that you love me," I swallowed dryly, not wanting to let my next words out into the world, but needing to anyway. "I'm sorry because I can't do anything about it." His face fell, confirming my suspicion - he did expect a different answer. I walked around the table that stood between us until I was close enough to clearly see the fine blue veins under his eyes. "I'm with Rocco now, Ry. You waited too long."

The crease right at the center of his forehead deepened. His dark eyes hardened. "Why are you using him as an excuse? You're not in love with that guy."

I chuckled dryly. How could he say that as though it made everything right? "Of course I'm not, Riley. I just met him. I barely know him. It doesn't work that fast. But I committed myself to knowing him better." As I spoke, it came to mind I wasn't the only one in a relationship. "And you're with Suzanne!" I said, throwing the fact at him like an accusation.

His eyes escaped mine. He bowed his head, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What is it?!"

"I broke up with her."

"Riley..."

His eyes finally came back to mine. "I did it for her. And for myself. Not because of you."

It was clear by my expression I didn't believe him for a second.

"You think I want this, Ells? You think I want to torture myself with how much I want to kiss you every damn time we're together? I tried to get over this. I ignored it. For years. My relationship with Suzanne is proof of that. But I failed at every turn. I keep wanting you and it's killing me that I don't know how to stop." His eyes were so pleading I lost an internal battle and tears rolled down my cheeks. "I wish I didn't want you like this. I wish your friendship was enough for me. I wish I didn't want more than you can give me. I do want more though. Every second I'm around you I want you more."

I stood there, absorbing his words. A million memories rushed through me. Perhaps he'd tried to tell me before. Perhaps, somewhere along those years, he had tried, and I never let him speak for fear of hearing those three words. "Why did you wait so long to tell me, Ry?"

He sighed, tired. "Because I would rather lie to you every day of my life than have you know I love you and lose my best friend because of it. I'm pathetic, whatever you give me, I'll take it, Ells. I just don't want to be without you."

"You won't lose me, Riley. Ever."

"I might now. You think you'll hurt me. You'll keep your distance because you'll think you'll be sparing me. You're already feeling sorry for me."

"No-"

"You're looking at me like I'm a starving Dickensian orphan," he said, trying to make me laugh. He came closer, brushed his thumb over my wet cheeks. "Don't cry, Ells. It kills me when you cry." And because he couldn't help who he was Riley hugged me, as he always did when I cried. He held me to him, his hands rubbing my back, his mouth whispering soothing sounds in my ear. I clung to him, face pressed against his solid chest, basking on the comfort he was proving me, owning up to my disgusting selfishness. He was comforting me when I was, yet again, hurting him.

He pulled away just enough to look at me. His arms were still creating a protective barrier around me. "I needed to tell you, Ells. Now that I did, all I want is for you to be happy, however you choose to be. With or without me," he said it as if he were apologizing. It just made me feel worse, like the truly vile creature I was.

"You've always been too good to me." And he was. More than I deserved.

He smiled sadly, pulling me to him again. I allowed myself to be held. The contact, unlike any other time he'd hugged each other, was somehow different. There was that ugly thing sticking its head between us, telling me that what we had was never pure as friendships ought to be. The worst part was that I've always known we were more. I saw other people, men and women who were friends, and recognized in them the chasteness that Riley and I lacked.

My phone started ringing, yanking us from each other. His arms left me, leaving me suddenly cold. His mother's name was flashing on the lit screen of my phone.

"She's probably calling about her birthday cake," he said stepping away from me, like it might be dangerous to stick around.

I declined Florence's call. I'd return later. "I'm sorry."

"I should go," he said already walking to the door.

"Okay." I bit on my tongue so I wouldn't dare ask him when I'd see him again.

He stopped by the door. "See you, Ells." Something in the way he spoke made my chest tighten.

"Please do." It was the closest to beg I dared get.

He gave me a wan smile, then left me there feeling like I'd just lost something I would never get back.

***

EVERY DAY was the same.

I got to work, came back home to nothing and no one but the silence of my empty house. I sat on my kitchen, drank my nightly glass of wine listening to the constant purring of my refrigerator. I thought about getting a dog, maybe a cat. I thought it might be nice to have another living thing in the place. A pet that would anticipate my return every evening. Waiting, hopefully, to be petted and fed. Waiting for the love and attention it'd get.

I gave that idea up. What would the poor animal do all day long while I worked? Stay home alone, just as alone as I was when I arrived after closing the bistro? I barely had enough time for myself, who's to say to care for another. I was alone and lonely. I had no time. I had too much time. Too many hours between night and morning all by myself.

Strangest thing, I used to love being alone. I liked the independence it gave me. I had my own house, my own routine. I came home every night, I took a shower, drank my glass of wine, read, maybe watched something. Sometimes Riley would comer over. And that was all I needed.

Now Riley was keeping his distance. Not avoiding me, exactly, simply preserving himself. Nonetheless, it was hard to get used to this new routine without his constancy. With Rocco away, my big empty house was a void waiting to drag me into darkness. Like a monument announcing how thoroughly lonely I was.

When I bought it, I knew it was too big for me. "There's an apartment in this neighborhood. It might be more suitable for you," the real state woman had said, meaning by more suitable; smaller, fit for a single woman. She couldn't have known I planned to have a family. Maybe a child or two to fill its rooms. I liked the idea of two. That way one could always have the other, the way I had Soph, whose presence was like a ray of sunshine in my life.

Before going to bed, I checked my calendar tapping a finger to the day of Rocco's return. Two more weeks and he'd be back. Just two more weeks and I wouldn't feel so alone anymore. I just had to keep it together until then.

***

RILEY

6 years ago

I WATCHED everything as though through a fogged up glass. Every face, under the throbbing red lights, seemed blurred. My head was pounding in synchrony to the beat of the music blowing loudly from the speakers. Damn Laura. I shouldn't have let her persuade me into downing those shots. I don't know what I was thinking. It was clear that tonight I wouldn't magically develop a resistance to alcohol I didn't have my previous 29 years of life. My first day as a 30-year-old man would be spent in the company of a colossal hangover.

My apartment was crowded with drunk people. My friends, plus some uninvited friends of friends were all dancing, drinking or talking, not knowing I was secretly wishing to have them all gone. I was part of a circle of conversation composed of a few of my writer colleagues. Pretending to listen to what they were saying, the span of my attention was short. I didn't have the ability to focus on more than one thing at a time.

Laura had me entranced.

She was barefoot, completely shitfaced, dancing with Clementine in the middle of my living room. There was a clear perimeter around them. More than a few pair of eyes were watching them move. There was little coordination to them. Laura moved to a beat that was inside her, disregarding the directions the song told her to follow. She didn't seem to care, nor did the people watching her, hypnotized as they were. She moved as she pleased, following the commands of her own body. She's always known how to work it.

The dress she wore hugged her damp skin. Every curve in her was so obvious it was hard not to remember what lay underneath that dress. Once upon a time I could trace her skin with my fingertips following the map I'd drawn in my head after years and years of having her naked under me.

Laura raised her arms above her head, swayed her hips painfully slowly from left to right. Watching her felt almost like a transgression, something illicit. One my unhealthy habits; how I loved to watch her while she didn't know she was being seen. As if sensing my gaze, she turned, our eyes met across the room. She immediately opened a wide, loose smile. I shook my head at her, smiling back like a fool. I couldn't help it. It was the effect she had on me.

She stretched out her arms, beckoning me to join her. I shook my head, mouthing 'No'. Laura never gave up on trying to get me to dance. My denial only made her more determined. Her brows went up in an act of defiance. She started my way leaving Clementine to dance alone and a few of her spectators to disappointment.

She came forward, eyes on me, an inelegant sway to her steps. I made to meet her halfway, but my legs were two heavy lumps of wood. Every step I took was like walking under water. I had an urge to laugh at nothing for no reason at all. The lights flashed too brightly. My head spun too fast.

I lost sight of Laura for a second there and found her again sitting on the floor. When I got close enough I found the pieces of broken glass on my carpet. The remains of a bottle. Laura touched the sole of her foot and her fingers emerged stained with something dark. Blood.

I picked her up, an arm around her, another under her knees, finding I had enough balance to carry her. No one around seemed to pay us any attention, too busy with their own entertainment. Laura rested her head on the curve of my neck. I tried not to focus on her parted lips, inadvertently touching my skin, or on how good she smelled when she was all sweaty, while I carried her.

On my bathroom, I sat her on the toilet. She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to the cool tiled wall. I gathered Merthiolate, alcohol and some cotton pads from the cabinet. I swayed a little as I knelt before her to take her foot on my hand. From what I could see cut wasn't shallow, nor was it too deep either, though it was at least two inches long. She winced when I pressed a cotton damp with alcohol to it.

"Sorry, Ells. I need to clean this," I said, holding her foot still by her ankle. She'd been dancing all night long without her shoes. The soles of her feet were dark brown with dirt. "Your feet are disgusting." That comment earned me the best sound in the world as far as I was concerned. A laugh that caught on her throat, then stumbled out sounding like an oink. I loved to tease her about it, saying she sounded like a piglet.

I finished cleaning the wound on her foot, covered it with a plaster and was about to get up when the weight her hands on my shoulders stopped me. She hunched forward. Her eyelids were heavy, her eyes red rimmed. She was way drunker than I. Way drunker than I first thought her to be.

"Thank you, Ry," she said, the words slowly rolling off her tongue. "You're the best. My best friend and I love you veeeery much."

"You're welcome, Miss Piggy." I tried to get up again, and again Laura didn't let me. She put both her hands on my neck using me as leverage to bring herself closer. Acting on a reflex, I tried to back away from her. She was sitting on the edge of the toilet lid, a few inches more and her ass would hit the floor. She sighed heavily. Her breath was sweet like the tropical drinks she had earlier. "Let's go ba-"

"Ry, you're thirty today," she said, cutting me off. She was still slurring her words, though her tone was different. Sad and wondrous, somehow.

"Yes, Ells. I am." She was staring at me, frowning, eyes narrowing like she couldn't see me well enough. I didn't know what to say to her. She was drunk. I was half drunk. We were both in that state were words came before rational thought.

"Let's go. I need to pick up those pieces of broken glass before someone else gets hurt." Her fingers on my nape started fumbling with my hair. The smell of her was on my nose. "Laura, you're drunk."

She broke into a huge grin. "I'm perfect."

Yes, she was. Just perfect. But there was a fine line I made sure I never crossed with Laura. I had taught myself how to be her friend and her friend only. I didn't think of the past. I didn't think of what we used to be to each other. I also made sure I didn't stand too close to her. I never wanted to test myself.

I stilled. Her fingers danced across my skin. From my nape to my jaw. She touched me like a blind person would, creating a tactile memory of the lines of my face. Her look was full of awe, like I was something new and spectacular she'd never seen before. My breath caught in my throat. She touched my lips with the tips of her fingers, sucked a plump lip in. A memory sparkled to life in my brain, as vivid as the cut on her foot. I know just what it feels like to suck on that lip.

I held both her wrists as gently as I could, treating the fine bones there like crystal. I laid them flat on her bare thighs, out of my own skin. "I think you need to lie down." I needed to get away from her. "Come on, I'll take you to bed."

I slid an arm around her left side to pull her up. She, in turn, took the chance to snake her arms around me and pull me to her. She hugged me, resting her cheek on my shoulder. "You're thirty." Again.

"Laura," I spoke her name as a warning, trying to convey annoyance when I was actually starting to panic. I gently pushed her away. "Ells, you're not-" I shut my mouth when I realized she was crying. "What is it?" I asked, confused.

She lowered her eyes, brushed the back of her hand under nose. Her mascara ran down her face, black streaks raining down her cheeks. I held her face in my hands. "What's wrong? Does it hurt?"

She gave me a wan smile, shaking her head. I didn't know what to do, so I just wiped her cheeks with my own hands. Her lips seemed to be plumper, moister than usual. Those were things I tried not to notice. Tonight, however, I was remarking on every little detail about her; on the stray coils of hair that had escaped the bun on top of her head and were glued to her neck by her sweat; on the strap of her dress that had slid down her shoulder; and specially on how she was looking at me. She hadn't looked at me that way in a long time. The last time she looked at me that way, she...

"You're thirty, Ry," she sobbed. "You said we would be together when we turned thirty, but you lied to me. Why would you lie to me, Ry?"

My thumb froze on her cheek. It was like everything was happening in slow motion. In my mind, all was hazy, like a half remembered dream. I didn't know whether I could trust my own ears.

"What?"

Fat tears were leaving dark wet streaks on her face. "Forgive me, Ry. Please. It wasn't my fault. I didn't want it. It wasn't my fault. I love you so much, please forgive me." She put a hand on each side of my face and her lips touched the gap between my brows. "I love you, Riley." My face still in her hands when she kissed me.

My body reacted before my brain could. I responded the only way I knew how. I kissed her back. I kissed her. For the first time in years. She only pressed our mouths together. I was the one who forced her mouth open. I was the one who searched for her tongue with mine. I forsook all that time I wasted pretending I didn't want her anymore. I was drunk. I was tired. I didn't have the strength to stop.