Another Door Opens

22 - I'm kind of hoping to be your first kiss this year

- MILES -

Parties at Tate’s are always a little wild, and this New Years gathering is definitely that.

Booze is flowing, which is a rarity for a lot of my friends who have spent so much of their adult lives building their bodies into prime examples of health, and so tend to steer clear of excess alcohol for the most part. Tunes are pumping far too loud. People are vibing and ready to end this calendar year and pretend like the next one is going to be any different to the last.

Tate has been a friend since high school. She probably remembers my gangly growth spurt phase before I filled into myself as much as I remember her pubescent acne phase. We've known each other a long time, and she is a great friend.

She’s also pretty decent in bed, which I know after entering into a clichéd ‘friends with benefits’ type situation with her a few months ago when we were both drunk at one of her last house parties for her birthday. It’s not been anything regular. Just the 'once every few weeks, grab a beer, get naked, linger a while, then bounce' arrangements. Either she’ll come over to mine, or I’ll head over to hers. We satisfy each other’s sexual urges, and then head on our merry ways and don’t really mention it again until there’s another niggling craving.

There’s no talking of feelings, there’s been no wanting for actual dates, or obligations to have a proper meal first. Just simple, uncomplicated sex without any emotional or romantic attachments or complications.

On my end at least.

Lately Tate has been looking at me in that way women and Heath tend to do when they’re wanting more. The lingering glaces, the batting eyelashes, the staring at my mouth, the close proximity, the touch on the arm/shoulder/leg/chest, etc.

And it turns out I’m too much of a spineless coward to raise it with her first, because how exactly do you say to one of your oldest friends that you don’t want to have sex with them anymore, and hope that no awkwardness comes in the way of your friendship moving forward?

It’s just so much easier to pretend like it’s not a thing. Only it’s not. Because ignoring it and wishing it away isn’t going to do either of us any favours and is likely to make one or both of us miserable, and jeopardise any possibility for a healthy friendship when feelings are hurt and subconscious grudges are held.

I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that animosity any more than I want to hurt her. I just don’t know how to bring it up, and Wolfe was clearly no help the other day in practically guiding me how to do just that, despite me actually stepping out of my comfort zone and asking him for advice.

Maybe I need new friends.

Or a time machine to go back and keep my dick in my pants.

Maybe I need to act like the thirty-one year old adult I am, suck it up and just get it over with.

This constant, internal dilemma has me drinking more than I’m proud of as I tried to mask my fear and deflect away from my feelings of guilt and shame in not finding the balls to speak to Tate.

I’ve had plenty of opportunities. She’s barely left my side all evening while I’ve been camped out on her outdoor couch in the hot weather while everyone else has been up and dancing. She’s tried to coax me up a few times to bust a move, which usually I wouldn’t shy away from at all. I actually really love dancing and think I’m somewhat okay at it judging by the range of women I’ve had drunkenly grinding all over me in the past whenever I’ve hit the dancefloor.

But somehow I managed to remain seated for the most part until around eleven p.m when we decided it was probably time to leave and stumble our way down to the beach to watch the fireworks. It’s a tradition that we’ve all held for around a decade now, with some extra additions coming and going along the way as our group has expanded here and there with new partners and new mates.