- Emmett -
I sat on the bench at the bus stop around the corner from Alfie's house, one hand gripping my handle bar to keep my bike upright, waiting for the all-clear text. His family was going out for the afternoon. "So, we'll have the whole house to ourselves," he said when he called earlier to tell me to come over. Now, I was just waiting here for them to leave.
This wasn't the first time I'd sat on this bench, my leg bouncing as I listened hyper-vigilantly for my phone to ding. I did this so many times when we were dating. And just like back then, I had this pit in my stomach. I felt sleazy, like I was a mistress waiting for my man's wife to leave so I could slink in where I didn't belong, stealing moments before he returned to his real life, in which I could never take part.
I used to push this feeling down and ignore it because I loved him and I wanted to be with him no matter how. But, sitting here, I wondered why I was suffering through this again. Just for a few moments, where I could pretend he was someone else. Someone I actually wanted to be with. It was so very fucked.
Then my phone dinged, and I was on my feet.
ALFIE: They're gone. Get that sexy ass over here right now.
I threw my leg over my bike and rode to his house. After stashing the bike in the bushes out front to hide the evidence of my existence, I snuck around the house, hopping the chain-link fence. His window was open, waiting. I had barely climbed through when Alfie grabbed me around the waist and whisked me to the bed, tugging at my clothes. I was having major deja vu from last year. Most of our relationship happened in this room. He still had the same gray plaid bedspread and gray sheets. The same poster for Terminator 2: Judgement Day hung above his bed. A photo of his perfect family all dressed up for Easter, standing in front of his grandpa's picturesque church, sat on his nightstand. His father's taciturn face stared at me disapprovingly as Alfie nibbled on my earlobe, grinding his pelvis into mine.
"Take off your shirt," Alfie commanded.
I complied without question or comment. Our relationship had never involved much talking.
"Roll over," he said.
Apparently, he wanted to get right to it today.
When I flipped over onto my stomach, he yanked my shorts down and poured the frigid lube on and started without warning. It had been over a year since I last had actual sex, so it was painful to start. Not that he noticed. But I soon relaxed, biting back moans as my mind wandered to Clay.
Clay had a picture on his Instagram from a couple months before we met of him on a large fancy boat, deep-sea fishing in the Gulf with his friends, in which he had no shirt. I'd stared at that picture a lot. I even took a screenshot, so I didn't accidentally like it by mistake as I lusted over him like a creeper.
My fantasy got interrupted when Alfie pressed a hand between my shoulder blades, pushing me against the mattress, spouting a lot of self-congratulatory statements about how much I liked it. With my face squashed into the bed, I couldn't agree.
Before I knew it, Alfie came and left.
I stood up, pulling myself together. Alfie, still stark naked, leaned against the open widow, muscles rippling beneath his dark brown skin. He put a joint between his lips, striking a lighter to ignite the end. He took a drag, holding it in his throat before blowing the smoke out the window. He held it toward me, offering it up.
Funnily enough, that same gesture brought us together in the beginning. It was at one of Jackson's many parties. I was deathly bored, being ignored by Carrie, despite her assurances that she wouldn't abandon me. She was playing some drinking game with Jackson, beating him senseless. I went outside to get some air, because someone had puked in the kitchen sink, and Jackson poured bleach into it to wash it out, so the house smelled like a mixture of vomited up vodka and bleach. On the back porch, I found Alfie lighting a joint. He looked over when I walked out, giving me a once over. He offered me the joint, which was very strong. A few tokes had me in haze. We were the only ones outside, because it was freezing, with actual ice on the ground. He just leaned in and kissed me. He asked me if I wanted to go to his car and mess around. Obviously, I said yes.
I went over to the window, putting my lips around the joint as he held it. I copied him, breathing the smoke outside. I coughed a few times, which made him laugh. It had been a while since I smoked. I guess I was out of practice.
He hooked an arm around me, pulling me against his body. He took another hit, leaning down to put his lips against mine, shotgunning the smoke into my mouth.
We shared the joint for a few minutes before he licked his fingers and stubbed out the cherry, returning it to the tin box on the windowsill with the rest of his stash.
He grabbed the back of my neck, pressing his lips to mine, aggressively pushing his tongue into my mouth. He put an arm around me, holding me tight, and lifted me off the floor. I hooked my legs around his thighs as he carried me to the bed for round two. The joint took effect, a familiar serenity settling over me, making this attempt much more enjoyable than the first. It also helped that Alfie became a lot more affectionate with a buzz, taking his time to enjoy every moment. I should've known a year ago, when I learned that he couldn't touch me lovingly without mind-altering substances, that our relationship would not end well.
__________
____
Alfie kissed my neck from behind as I sat on the edge of the bed, twisting my shirt around in my hands to find the front. His hand glided up my back, giving me shivers.
"Come on," Alfie said. "You don't have to go. They'll be gone for a couple more hours."
I pulled my shirt over my head to protect against his distracting touch. "I do, actually. I'm going to be late."
"For what?"
"I'm going thrifting to help Carrie find material for her new art project."
Alfie scoffed and fell back against his bed. "Who cares?"
I rolled my eyes, suppressing the ire blooming in my chest. "She's my best friend, Alfie. Stop being a dick about her."
"Her art sucks. I don't know why you indulge her. You could save her a lot of heartbreak by telling her the truth."
"That's a matter of opinion. One that I don't share." I crawled across the bed and leaned in to kiss him. He wrapped his arm around my back, pulling me down on top of him. His free hand reached for my crotch.
I jerked back. "Stop. I can't."
"Really? 'Cause it feels like you can." Alfie grinned.
It was tempting. Alfie was hot. And sex with him was great, which was how I was falling back into this same pattern as before. Even if it wasn't his face I saw when I closed my eyes; it wasn't his voice I heard in my ear.
"I promised her," I said. More to myself than to Alfie. "I don't break my promises."
"Whatever." Alfie pushed me off. He threw his legs over the side of the bed, slipping his underwear on as he stood up with a frustrated grunt. "You always do this to me."
"Do what?"
"Prioritize her over me. Not just her. You put everything before me."
"What are you talking about?" I devoted myself to him when we were dating, staying at his beck-and-call for the moments when he wanted me. Carrie and I had our biggest fight ever when I showed up half an hour late to her sixteenth birthday party because Alfie called me to come over after two days of not hearing from him.
"That's why I broke up with you last time," he said.
My eyes went wide. I grabbed a pillow and chucked it at him, striking his back. "You didn't break up with me. You just stopped calling and showing up."
"Yeah, well, you should have tried harder. You could have showed up for me. For once. You know where I live." He waved his hands around at his bedroom.
"I did try. I called and texted you so many times. And I couldn't just show up for you. You told me you were scared to tell anyone about us. That your dad would go nuts if he knew. I barely ate for two weeks, terrified something happened to you, asshole. Then I found you making out with some random girl at one of Jackson's parties, perfectly fine."
Carrie dragged me to that party kicking and screaming, determined to get me over him. She said it would be fun. She was wrong. I cried for two days after that party.
Alfie crossed his arms. "I never said anything like that."
"You did. Right after our first time having sex, you laughed and said your dad would murder us if he caught me in your bed."
"That was a joke," Alfie said with a shrug.
"Ha, ha, ha. A homophobe murdering queer boys for having sex. That's hilarious!"
He rolled his eyes, treating me like I was being a drama queen. As if that kind of thing didn't actually happen in the world. "I was being hyperbolic."
"I'm surprised you even know that word."
"Are you calling me dumb?"
My head slowly shook from side to side. More out of disbelief than an actual answer. "Not as dumb as me," I mumbled under my breath.
I blew out a breath and headed for the door, forgetting for a moment that I couldn't go that way. Alfie grabbed my elbow to stop me. I expected him to point to the window, to remind me of my place. "Are you seriously walking out on me?"
"I have to go."
Alfie released his hold on my arm and stalked toward the door. "Whatever." He opened the door, waving his hand to the hall—as if he'd actually let me leave through the front door. His lip started quivering and his eyes became glassy. "I know you'd rather spend time with her than me. You love her more, and I don't even blame you. I wouldn't want to spend time with me, either. You're right. I am an asshole. I'm totally fucked up."
I hated when he did this. He denigrated himself, so I would defend him and fluff up his already over-inflated ego.
Rather than argue about it and get stuck here for twenty minutes, I went over and placated him. I laid a hand on his cheek and stretched up to press a soft kiss to his lips. "You're not. But I have to go." I made it sound as if I didn't have a choice. And I knew exactly what to say for him to accept it. "You know how Carrie can be. If I don't show, she'll get mad. She might tell my mom about us. You know she doesn't like you."
Alfie nodded, his face twisted up with bitterness and distress. "Another person I can add to the list."
Then he smiled, pushing the door shut. He grabbed my face between his hands and kissed me fiercely. "I love you so much."
I wasn't sure that was true. I didn't know if I truly understood what genuine love felt like, but I knew this wasn't it. If he loved me, he wouldn't try manipulating me into ignoring my friend. Or force me into manipulating him just to get away from him. If he loved me, I wouldn't hate myself right now.