sebastian
Harris isn't saying anything. Why isn't he saying anything?
He looks stumped. Dumbfounded. Water drips from his messily dried hair, and I refuse to let myself look at his broad, bare shoulders. He purses his lips, thinking.
I can't take it for very long. "I just want to know how you feel. What you're thinking."
"I know," he mutters, avoiding my gaze. I wish I could crawl inside his head and figure out exactly what he's thinking. I like him. I know this. But, if he doesn't like me back, then there's not really anything I can do, is there?
I wasn't mad after the quarry. I was just incredibly grossed out, not to mention concerned. But once I showered, I felt fine, if not a little guilty, because Harris seemed more upset than I did—probably because I seemed upset. I just needed to get all that manky lake water off me before I could pretend I was in the mood to smile. Jumping in the quarry is gross and I never need to do it again, but there. I did it. Cool.
"It's ... it's seriously up to you," I tell him. Okay. Okay. No more needling him. Gotta stop. Gotta let him make up his own mind.
Harris rubs the back of his neck. "I really don't know, Seb."
Oh.
My heart doesn't sink so much as it straight-up crashes, burning all the way from my chest down to my stomach. What does he mean, 'he really doesn't know'? What? Did I get my hopes up too far? Is that it?
I don't think my facial expression has changed. God, I hope it hasn't. But, seriously, what am I to him? What is this?
"What are you thinking, Seb?" he asks, his gaze pleading. But I don't know. For a split second there, I could imagine some sort of a future for me and Harris. That maybe I like him more than just friends with benefits, and maybe he likes me back. But there's no way he does. Harris has been a terrific friend, and I hope I haven't let him down in turn. Still, though. This is all we can ever be, isn't it? Simply friends with benefits, and nothing more.
And what would even be the point in trying to date? I'm leaving for Dartmouth at the end of August, and Harris is probably leaving even before that. We'd have less than two months together, and then bam, long distance. And I hate the idea of long distance. Could we even last like that, with how physical we are? Don't get me wrong, the physical intimacy is great. But it does not a relationship make. So this ... this is for the best, isn't it?
It's good to know this now. Set yourself up for success by planning for failure. That's what my dad always said when I was a kid, and look at me now. I don't need a boy in my life. And I especially don't need Harrison McCammon, no matter how great a distraction he may appear.
This would not work out. This was never going to work out.
I'm just glad I asked.
"Seb?"
"Nothing," I tell him, smiling. It's probably not a very convincing smile, but that's not the most important thing right now, is it? "I'm good."
"So...?"
"So?"
"Why did you bring it up?" Harris asks slowly, his gaze searching. "Are we okay?"
I swallow. My throat is tight. Painful. "Harris, we are fine. I just wanted to know what we were thinking for the rest of the summer."
"So ... do we want to keep on being friends with benefits, then?"
Fuck. Fuck. This ... this just sucks. I know that Harris doesn't see me as only being my body. He's made that point clear; I'm not stupid. Yet the idea that he only wants me to be his friend with benefits hurts. Because, I'm good enough to be his friend, and I'm good enough to have sex with, but for Harris, I guess I'm simply not good enough to date.
I should say no. That would be the smart thing, wouldn't it? Just say it: No, Harris, I need time to heal from this, because this is a new kind of rejection, and I need to recover from feeling as if I've lost you, because I can never have you like I want to. So, very sorry, but I cannot afford to make out with you and do other things, or else I might cry. Heavily. And snottily. Thank you for your understanding! Enjoy the rest of your lonely summer!
I can't bring myself to do it, though.
Even though I feel betrayed, just the mere thought of Harris' hands in my hair and his soft lips pressed against my own makes me weak in the knees. There's simply no way I'm going to shut this down right now. I can't.
"Yeah," I tell him half-heartedly, "friends with benefits works just fine."
"You're sure?"
"Yes." Yes, Harrison, because I'm going to phase you out. Slowly, piece by piece, I'm going to spend the rest of the summer getting over you before I absolutely have to let you go.
—
I'm back in my truck, alone. The first thing I do? Call Saanvi.
She picks up on the fourth ring. For a minute there, I was worried that she wasn't going to, so when I hear her confused, "Hello?" I'm flooded with relief.
"Hey," I say, "what are you doing?"
"Um, I was spooning with my good buddy, Mr. Heating Pad."
"Oop. Sorry for interrupting."
She groans, probably stretching. "You're gooood. Why, what's up?"
"I did it. I brought things up with Harris."
There's a thud on the other line. A thud, and a quiet, "Owwwww," quickly followed by a, "WHAT THE FUCK, SEB? How did it go?"
"It was ... well, okay. It didn't really go how I wanted it to go." I peel out off Harris' street, which is only a few blocks from mine. I could probably walk to his house in under ten minutes, but I like having my truck with me. The weather today suits my feeling perfectly—the sun is bright, and far too hot. But the storm clouds gathered threateningly in the distance have come ever closer. I give the rain an hour, max.
"Oh no, Seb. Babes. Are you okay?"
"I'm okay!" I insist, way too fast. I all but yell it into my truck's BlueTooth speaker, which isn't exactly as chill as I'd like for it to be. I clear my throat. Take a breath, Seb. This time, I speak slower. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Yeah. I'm good."
"Wanna come over?"
My parents will probably be wondering where I am, having not heard from me in over twenty-four hours, but honestly, I don't care right now. I'm an adult, for crying out loud. I can be trusted on my own for a day or so.
"Sure," I tell her. "I'm going to keep you on the other end while I drive, though."
"Okay." There's more shuffling, probably her either getting up to get dressed, or getting comfortable. "Give me the motherfuckin' tea."
I exhale. "Okay, so, we had sex last night."
"I'M SORRY, WHAT?"
"Saanvi, calm—"
"DO NOT TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, MY BEST FRIEND JUST HAD"—she whispers this next part, like someone might be listening—"sex? SEB. SEEEB."
"Yeah, I—"
"How was it? Was it amazing? Did you like it? Did it hurt? It's supposed to hurt for girls. Did you do it more than once? Did you use protection? Protection is important, regardless of—"
Here we go. "I liked it. It was great. It did hurt at first, but he took it slow. We did it ... more than once. Yes, we used protection, because we know that it's important, even for same-sex couples. You really sound like a sex ed teacher sometimes, you know that, right?"
Saanvi ponders this for a moment. I can picture her nodding approvingly. "Okay. Good. So ... you had sex."
"We had sex," I confirm. "Good sex."
"And then...?"
I sigh, turning away from my street and heading to Saanvi's. The speed limit is twenty-five, so the green trees on the slides of the road aren't exactly turning into vibrant blurs of color around me, but I admire the leaves nonetheless. "Okay, so, we went to Lake Franz today to go swim."
"Ew, Lake Franz?"
"I know. Shut up." I sigh again. I can't help it. "Okay, so, we go swimming in there, and then some fish touches his foot, and we decide to go look out on the quarry instead."
Saanvi hums in response. I press on.
"And then, out of nowhere, he decides to jump in the quarry. I—"
"That is actually so stupid. Please tell me you didn't." I keep my mouth shut tight. She takes my silence as an answer. "SEBASTIAN!"
"I'm sorry! It, just, he jumped, and then I jumped, because he had been all like, 'I just wanted to have this experience with you,' and I'm like, 'Aw wait, that's sweet,' and the debate team did it last night so it's not like we're the only crazy people, and then yeah, we just, we dive in together."
"That's so dangerous, Seb. Those waters had a pH of nearly 11, six years ago. It might be even worse now. Like, what were you thinking? Do you not remember sixth grade science?"
My hands grip the steering wheel tighter, tight enough that my knuckles begin to whiten as my fingers furl against the leather wheel. I slow down for a stop sign and wait for a few little kids biking across the crosswalk, their dad in tow. "Yes, Saanvi, I remember sixth grade science."
"Then why did you jump?"
There's silence. Because, I really don't know. "I guess I just wanted to do something fun with him. Keep the good vibes going."
"You are such a fucking simp. That ... wow. Okay."
I sigh for a third time, pressing the gas and returning a wave from the dad following his kids, fake smiling through the windshield. "I know, Saanvi, I know."
"Please tell me you showered."
"Yeah, I showered, don't worry."
"Good. Let's hope you didn't catch some deadly disease."
"Yeah." I know it won't happen, but having introduced myself to the possibility of catching some kind of sickness is admittedly worrisome. But there's nothing I can do about it now, so I'm just going to choose to pointedly ignore this fact.
"So, you go for a dip in the Gorge of Fecal Death and Bleach. What next?"
I'm turning onto Saanvi's street, and suddenly, I'm fighting back tears. "Okay, so." My voice is strained. "We go back to his place, shower separately, and then I knock on his mom's bathroom door and ask him what he's thinking about us."
Saanvi sucks air through her teeth, quite audibly.
"And he says he doesn't know, asks me what I want, but I'm kinda like, uh, no, this is your decision, and then he asks if we can continue being friends with benefits." I catch my breath, blinking just fast enough so that I don't actually start crying, although it's growing harder and harder by the second.
"And what did you tell him?" Saanvi asks. I pull up along her front curb and exhale, although my hands don't lose their grip on the wheel, taught and white-knuckled against the leather.
"I told him that was fine."
"Seb."
The first tear leaks out. Then the second. And just like that, I'm crying—sobbing, even—and I can't stop for the life of me. I heave for breath. "I know."
There's a soft knock on my window. I look out, and there's Saanvi, dressed in her set of pink bunny pajamas, her eyes soft, her lips pursed. Her phone is in her hand, and I hear her speak through the truck speakers.
"Come inside, Seb."
I nod and unbuckle, slamming the truck into park and shutting off the engine. Here. Here, I'm safe. Here, I'm known. Here, I can finally admit how I feel ... and cry.