Parker

Part One: Twelve

I can't look at Noah when he walks into my room holding a glass of orange juice and a bottle of advil. I look at everything but him.

"Here," he murmurs.

I take it and thank him. He stands there. It's awkward and silent and uncomfortable.

I sigh. "I was drunk."

"What?"

"Last night. I was drunk. I didn't even realize I flashed you my boobs until after you left. I wasn't trying to hit on you or come onto you. Forget everything I said and did. I was drunk."

He blinks. "Yeah. Are you dating that guy?"

"Clifford?"

"Yes. Him."

"No. He's like my best friend."

"Oh."

It's quiet. He scratches his head.

"Look, I'm going to be honest for a minute." He takes a deep breath. "Last night? That can't happen again."

"I know. I was drunk; I'm sorry. I really wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable."

"Parker, you looked amazing last night. And the thoughts that ran through my head..." He shakes his head and I shiver. "And then you start to take of the dress and—"

"Sorry," I wince.

"I have a girlfriend. I can't think about you like that. But I can't get the image out of my head."

"Okay, Noah," I clear my throat. "I solemnly swear to never flash you again. Can we just move past it?"

He hesitates before nodded. "Yeah. We should. It's forgotten. You got any plans today?"

"Actually–"

For the second time, the doorbell interrupts us. Noah smiles sheepishly before leaving the room to answer the door. I take a pill, finish off the orange juice, and stand up to see who's downstairs.

As I come down the steps, I narrow my eyes at the messy blonde hair.

"Cliff?"

"You're up," he smiles. "How you feeling?"

I smile back and walk towards him. Cliff steps inside, just enough to reach me.

"I'm good," I reply, hugging him. "Thank you for bringing me home."

He nods. "'Course."

"You hungry?" I question, taking his hand and pulling him into the kitchen. "I'm going to make breakfast."

"You cook?" Noah asks, surprised.

"No," Cliff and I say simultaneously. We look at each other and laugh. Noah blinks.

I go to a cabinet and pull out three bowls and then move to the cabinet with all the cereal.

"How long have you guys known each other?"

"Since, what, middle school?" Cliff glances at me for confirmation and I nod in affirmative. "Eighth grade. I was a transfer."