Jesse.
I have always loved Sundays. Since Lily moved next door to us, we have spent every Sunday together; I remember when Jennifer, her mum, used to work on weekends, and my family would take her and her brother in for the day. We would play until sunset, stopping just to quickly scoff down my mother's roast before we were off again. Then, Jennifer got a better job, and she was off the weekend; however, they could see how much we missed each other, and decided to still continue having Sunday lunch together, switching house every week. Now, my mum and Jenni are the best of friends, and they continue the tradition even without us. I whip my head around when I hear Lily dragging her body to the couch and collapsing on the grey tweed sofa, before crossing her legs under her bottom; she pulls a blanket over her and drops a tub of chocolate and vanilla ice cream on her lap. She turns to me holding out two spoons.
"Ice cream?"
It's pissing outside and it has been for the whole night; the temperature has dropped even more, seemingly winter is coming rather than summer, and she has guilted me into switching the heating on because, apparently, she was freezing to death, but now she's eating ice cream. Typical.
"Ice cream?" I question.
She just shrugs, "it's an ice cream kind of day."
I pull the metal spoon out of her tight grip, and I pick up a chunk of ice cream, eating it in one go. That was silly, of course, because my mouth tingles and shooting pain spreads from my head.
"Brain freeze," I whine while she giggles, ditching the tub on the coffee table to wipe the tears that have pooled at the corner of her eye. She is enjoying this, huh? With a swift movement, I charge and lunge at her, landing us both flat on the sofa with Lily lying beneath me. There is a spark in her blue eyes that I have never noticed before as she studies my face, trying to decipher my next move. I grab her wrists with one hand, locking them down behind her head while my free hand roams her side until I hit one of her most sensitive spots, tickling her mercilessly. She giggles and throws herself in every possible direction, trying to escape my assault but I don't loosen my grip, and she parts her legs ever so slightly, allowing me to get closer to her.
"Jay," she begs, "I am running out of oxygen."
I rest my fingers where they are on her skin, pretending I am done before restarting my attack. "I have heard that one before," I remind her as she pouts and tries to move her hip away from me. During one of our last tickle fights, which, I have to admit, was quite a long time ago, she pulled the same stunt, and when I turned to get off her, worried sick she was going to be unwell, she betrayed me, assaulting me just below my ribs; I wasn't going to be that foolish again.
"Fine, you win," she screeches, defeated. But I am the tickle monster, her nickname for me when we were kids, and I don't let go just yet; I slow down my movements, brushing my fingers on her delicate skin, teasing her. As I continue stroking her, I can feel her heart racing and her erratic breathing filled with anticipation as she doesn't know if and when I'll strike again. One more round, and I'll let her go. But I don't manage to complete my mission because my phone rings. I want to ignore it, and just live this moment with her a little longer, but Lily has other plans.
"Are you not going to answer?" No, I thought that was clear since I was ignoring the little devil, "it could be our mums," she points out. Keeping her hands in place, I lean over the coffee table, and I groan, snatching the device to check who dares interrupting us. Lily lifts her head up, just enough to take a peek at the name flashing on the screen. It's Tiffany. When she sees the name, I feel the atmosphere around us change abruptly; before there was excitement and longing which had now been replaced by uncomfortable silence. She wriggles out of my grasp, and I let her as she seems quite determined to get up, while I press the green button, accepting Tiffany's call. I hang up only a couple of minutes later, after having confirmed our plans for the night, and I go look for Lily. The house isn't massive, so it doesn't take long to spot her in her bedroom; she is standing in front of her wardrobe, sliding the hangers on the rail until she finds a pair of black trousers and a shirt that I am sure she has picked out for her shift tomorrow.
I knock on the door, and I wait before entering her room; she just glances at me but doesn't say anything. "Are we alright?" I ask tentatively, and she nods returning her gaze to her clothes, "are you sure?" I press her more.
She exhales loud enough for me to hear it, before twirling to meet my eyes. "Tiffany? Really?" she enquires, and I can't make out whether she is upset, disappointed, or just surprised.
"Yeah," I answer, "she gave me her number on Friday, and she said she was off today..."
She crosses her arms, scoffing, and she slips out, not adding anything. I feel like I am walking on eggshell, and one wrong move will lead to a nuclear disaster, but this has never happened between us. We have been to clubs together hundreds of times, and she has talked me up more than my mates; what's happening right now? I follow her into the hallway, and she hurries towards the bathroom; I manage to put my foot down between the door and the frame just as she slams it. Lily tries to close the door, but I force my way in even though I know I shouldn't; I can't have my best friend not talking to me and be pissed at me, which I think it is what she is, pissed I mean.
"Lily, what's happening right now?" the desperation in my voice makes my inside quiver.
She folds her arms again across her chest, and she lowers her gaze to the floor; I walk to her, placing two fingers under her chin and lifting it up, until her eyes are boring into mine. The serene waters in which I dive everyday have been replaced by a storm that becomes more dangerous as the seconds go by. "Tiffany? Really?" she spits out again, and that is so out of character that I am almost blown away, "she is a colleague, Jesse. What do you think will happen when you'll grow tired of her, huh? Who do you think will have to face her every single day at work? I will, Jay."
For a second there I had thought, or rather hoped, that she was jealous of me, that she didn't want to share me with anybody else, that she, too, was being eaten up by that passion that was making it difficult for me to stay away from her, that was making me crave every inch of her milky skin. But no, she isn't. She is worried about rocking her relationship with a colleague, and that is the evidence my heart needed to move on.
"She's a grown woman, Lil," I defend myself, "you'll be fine, jeez."
She shakes her head, and a frown reappears, "whatever, Jay."
She is being unreasonable, and I have every right to date Tiffany. Maybe she is what I need to get her out of my fucking head, her gorgeous face clouding my fucking judgement. I slam the door to my bedroom, and I sit on the bed, panting. She aggravates me so much I want to scream, or just pin her against a wall and kiss her until she stops arguing with me and forgets why she was in the first place.
"I need to get out," I declare, getting my car keys from the bowl near the door, but before I can finally leave that hellhole, I hear the familiar pitter-patter of her feet as she draws closer to me.
"Don't forget to set me up with that friend of yours, Jay. You promised."
That is the last blow my body can take.
"Have it your way, Lil," I snap before slamming the door behind me.
Lily.
I don't understand what's his problem; I should be the one slamming the door and leaving, not him. He's the one who's changing the dynamics in our relationship; he's the one kissing me, telling me he would get me pregnant with that stupid serious face, acting all weird earlier on the sofa, and he is also the one going on a date with my colleague.
What's wrong with him?
And what's wrong with me for caring?
I don't know what I thought would happen after Friday, but I just feel so confused and powerless. A little, tiny, almost invisible, piece of me wanted him to look at me differently, not like his best friend, or younger sister as I am sure he sees me, but as a fucking woman who can give him what his wants.
He wants sex, Lilith, my conscience reminds me.
Well, if he can act as if nothing happened between us, then two can play this game. I knew he was going to be upset when I asked him to set me up with his friend, but I have decided to stay toxic today. Sue me. I am just so irritated, and I can't believe he would go out with Tiffany. I sit on the sofa, breathing in and out, giving my heart a chance to slow down before it packs its stuff and climbs up my pipe, abandoning me forever. I kick the coffee table away as I cross my arms again like a toddler having a temper tantrum. I don't know why I am so bothered! I love him, I have always loved him, but like my dearest friend, nothing more. Maybe the fact that two people we love are entering a different phase of their life has changed our perception on what we want and need? And maybe we're taking this out on one another?
Yep, that must be it.
There isn't any chemistry between us or a love that is any different from what there is between friends. I think Joy coming into our lives has had a bigger impact than we were expecting, or even thought possible. I am happy he is going on a date; I was a bit taken aback I won't lie, but if Tiffany is what he needs in his life, if she is the life partner he is looking for, then I will be there for him. There will not be any more outbursts. As I am getting off the sofa, my phone rings and I hope it's him so I can apologize for the drama I have caused, but it's an unknown number.
"Hi, this is Sam. I got your number from Jesse 😊"
I smile down at my phone; he's actually done it. I contemplate whether I should answer or not, but my fingers type quicker than my brain thinks.
"Hey, I'm Lily. He did say he was going to set me up with a friend, but I thought he was joking."
Yeah, I wasn't expecting Jay to actually go through with what he had said, especially after how we parted ways not long ago. I see "typing" appearing a couple of times, but no messages come through until my phone starts vibrating, showing an incoming call. Sam. A bit hesitant, with my stomach twisting, I accept the call.
"Hi," he says as soon as I pick up, his voice mellow and friendly.
"Hi," I mirror him, not knowing what to say, and I hear him chuckle on the other side. I am funny, to be fair.
"Well, it's lovely to finally meet you." finally?
"Finally?" I ask, not knowing how to keep my mouth shut. I am a curious person, after all.
"Yeah," he replies, "Jay talked about you all the time, he says you're amazing," I could melt right now, and I feel my anger from earlier fade away, "I am actually surprised he sat us up."
I furrow my brows, "why? Are you bad?" I told you already that I am nosy and awful at flirting. For a moment he doesn't reply but then I hear him giggle and I can finally release a breath that I didn't know I was holding.
"No, I am great," I can imagine the grin on his face even if I cannot see him, "but let's not talk about Jay, yeah? Why don't you tell me about yourself."
I hold my phone in place with my shoulder, keeping it glued to my ear while I scratch the back of my head. Last time I told someone about myself was at my job interview, and I hated that, thank you very much. Even though it may seem the easiest of questions, c'mon you just need to say a few things about yourself, I have always found it the most difficult of all. I was always worried about oversharing, or possibly just disclose superficial details about myself and my life, depicting somebody that is not me. Why am I overthinking this?
"Uhm," good start, "I am a community midwife, and I absolutely love my job because there isn't anything that I find more fascinating than pregnancy," which is probably the most honest thing I have said about myself because I truly love being a midwife, "I share a house with Jay, so I must be a nutter, and, if I were you, I would consider that carefully."
His chuckle turns to a burst of laughter, "honestly, I am thinking about it... who, in the right frame of mind, would choose to live with Jay?"
"Yeah, I thought it was worth mentioning."
The conversation ebbs and flows so much so that I get a little scared because he is a stranger at the end of the day. When I look at the clock, I realise it's almost ten, and I really need to go to bed soon if I want to turn up for my shift tomorrow. In the past two hours, I have learnt that Sam lives alone closer to the City, where he works in advertising as a graphic designer; he has a deadly allergy to shellfish; in his free time, he loves jogging and hiking; he has a younger sister who is still at university; and that he is a terrible chef, only surviving because take away exists. An hour ago, as this chat was going well, better than well, actually, I decided to make a peace offering to my best friend by baking his favourite treats, chocolate fudge brownies. I placed my phone on speakerphone on the counter next to me and I started gathering the ingredients and mixed them into a bowl before dropping the batter, which I tried off the whisk and was divine, if I say so myself, in a tin and leave it in the oven to cook. Once it was ready, I let it cool down before removing it from the tin and onto a plate, cutting it in smaller squares. I had been tempted to try one piece, just one, but decided against it, waiting for my best friend to be home. I expected that to happen quite late, maybe even tomorrow so I had to find another way to satisfy my craving for chocolate.
"It has been so nice talking to you tonight," he blurts out as we are saying our goodbyes.
"I have enjoyed it, too," I reply, honest for once.
"I'll text you tomorrow," he says, "to ask you out."
I chuckle, he's cute and sweet, exactly what I need. "I'll be waiting," and with that I press the red button and the line goes dead. As I am walking to the light switch to turn it off before going to bed, I hear a key turning in the lock; it can't be Jay, so I walk back to where the cutlery drawer is, opening it silently and grabbing the handle of a sharp knife while dialling 999. The door opens with a loud bang, and Jesse's brown hair peeps out of the
"For fuck's sake," I shout, dropping the knife back into its place, "what the hell were you thinking? You scared the living soul out of me! I thought you were a burglar, Jay!"
He looks at me flabbergasted, closing the door behind him. "A burglar with a key, Lil?"
"Now that you say it like that, it doesn't make sense," I scoff, "but anything was possible, mate. It's just 10 o' clock, what did you do with Tiffany? Go out and paint the town beige?" I chuckle at how cleverly I quoted The Big Bang Theory. I am such a hoot. Apparently, Jay doesn't agree as he flips me off and steps towards his bedroom, but I grab his wrist, whirling him around. "Sorry," I rush to say pointing to the plate near the stove, "I made brownies, your favourite, can we kiss and make up, please?" but that was an unfortunate choice of words.
He stares at me, the lively green in his eyes resurfacing, "let me try them first."
*************
Hello, everybody!
Here is your Saturday update! :) What do you think will happen between Lily and Jesse? Let me know in the comments!
Love, Izzy.