"So what you're saying is the guy from the other weekend is... Christians, brother?" Ellie clears her throat.
"The guy hitting on you from the other weekend." Molly chimes in.
"Molly, stop." I roll my eyes.
"What?! It's the truth!" Molly throws her hands up as if I accused her of the first degree.
"Did you tell Christian?" Ellie pryies.
"No, absolutely not. They don't seem to have the best relationship for starters."
Ellie and Molly came over for a wine night to celebrate my recent move into a new place. I loved my last spot, but once my lease was up, the landlord kindly decided to raise my rent to the legal amount without renovating the desperately needed place. I moved to Nob Hill to a shockingly beautiful and affordable apartment with high ceilings, a rustic kitchen, heated flooring, and a lovely brick fireplace.
"Why do you get the vibe they don't have the best relationship?" Molly drops her tone to a serious note.
"They seem to have a lot of tension." I run my hand through my hair as I finish unboxing the last box labeled "kitchen."
Ellie strolls down from the step ladder she used to hang my living room curtains. "Beautiful." She moves backward and takes in the long ivory lace glowing with the sunset. "How so?" She closes the step ladder and leans it against the wall for later use.
"Just a lot of bickering. It's more sisterly in a sense." I walk over to Ellie and admire the curtains with her.
"You did tell us how completely different they are." Molly appears next to us. "Christian is working in finance, and Timothee is a mechanic. Those two professions have nothing in common."
"Hmm," Hums Ellie. "I'd take a guy who gets his hands dirty any day." Ellie sits on the floor next to the two huge boxes of my brand-new couch. "Is Christian coming to help put together the couch?"
"Um, I believe so?" I say unconvincingly.
"Or would we be better off doing it?" Molly chuckles.
"No, no," I whined. "I moved, hauled, and unboxed way too much stuff today. I plop on the floor next to the girls and rest my head on Molly's lap. The least he can do is help." I unlocked my phone and began texting Christian about his ETA.
Molly and Ellie snuck each other a look.
"Hey, hey!" I sit up. "What was that look for?"
Molly and Ellie look at each other again.
"Well?" I raise my brows.
"Go ahead, Molly." Ellie nudges her.
"Why me?!"
"Guys!"
"Well!" Molly begins. "We just won't be surprised if he doesn't show." Molly brings her nails to her mouth.
I push her arm out of the way. "Why?"
"He is not the type of guy- no offense, to put together a coffee table."
"Let alone a couch," Ellie whispers.
"Are you saying he's unreliable?" I look at both of them.
"Sorta." Molly makes a scrunched face. "When it comes to heavy lifting, yeah."
"I mean Cas, he didn't even help you pack or unpack." Ellie leans over and rubs my arm slightly.
"So, he was busy! And I got movers."
"Right, yeah," Molly says.
"Oh, quit it." I nudge her arm.
"Sorry! It's not like we're saying we hate his guts. It's just he should've helped. You know, be a man? Take some initiative." Ellie shrugged.
I nodded, taking in their words. "I've always moved alone, so I thought it wasn't his responsibility."
"Yeah, but you weren't dating someone the last time you moved." Molly stood up and went over to the fridge. "More wine?"
Both Ellie and I lifted our empty glasses in agreement.
Molly unscrewed the white wine and emptied the rest evenly in our glasses.
"I guess I didn't realize that moving is a thing your boyfriend should help with." I swirled my glass around slowly, looking at the crispy wine sloshing against the sides.
"I mean, we helped," Ellie said after siping.
I smoothed my lips into a straight line and picked up my phone.
Christian
Hey babe, sorry I'm still on the course. Does it need to be done today?
I huffed a piece of my hair out of my face. "Well." I show both girls my phone screen before replying.
Ellie and Molly don't say anything. After our previous conversation, it doesn't seem like much left for them to say without implying their predictions were correct.
Me
I would like it to be, yes. When will you be done?
Christian
Not for a while. We're having dinner after. The guys and I.
Before I can respond, another text comes in from Christian.
What if I call Timmy? He's better with that stuff anyway.
Me
I can pay him.
Christian
It's on me. I'll have him text you; let me call.
I put my phone down and hoped that at least one of them had the availability to help me out tonight.
---
Timothee texted me about two hours ago, saying he could help me put the couch together tonight. He was at the shop working on a 1947 cherry red Chevy 3100. I gasped when he sent a photo of proof. The girls left an hour ago, after we finished all the wine, ate pizza, and helped me unpack my bedroom. I just finished setting up my half-bath right off of the kitchen. It's nice to know no one has to venture into my bedroom to use the toilet when I have visitors. I tied a full trash bag and set it by the accumulating pile next to my front door. I swept the floor, picking up remnants of packing peanuts and specks of dirt from the friendly movers.
My phone buzzes slightly, snapping me out of my thoughts. I lean the broom on the fridge and grab my phone off the counter.
1-(541)-738-9923
Hey C, It's Timothee. I think I'm here?
I quickly put my phone down and headed to the front door. I caught myself in the mirror by the door for a second. I fixed my hair and straightened my tank top before opening the door. Timothee wasn't standing on my stoop. He was down on the street looking around. His head spun towards me when he heard the door open.
"Hey," Timothee smiled and walked up the steps.
"Hi, thank you so much for helping me." I smile, and we hug softly. "Did you drive?" I peer behind him, looking for the Cherry red Chevy he texted me about.
"No problem, and uh- no, I actually live seven blocks from here." Timothee stepped inside, looking around. "Woah, this place is awesome."
I shut and locked the door behind him. "Thank you. I got it for an amazing price."
"It's fantastic; the kitchen is beautiful," Timothee says, pushing off his shoes with his opposite foot.
"How'd you know I don't allow shoes inside?" I ask, staring at his shoes and ushering him inside further.
"Good guess." Timothee smiles.
"So here's the couch, um, I may not be the most helpful person to help you." I say as we enter into the living room.
Piles of more unboxed boxes sit near the windows. The two side tables Molly and Ellie tried putting together sat lopsided near the fireplace in hopes that Timmy would be able to build them as well. Timothee removes his black hoodie and places it neatly on an ottoman that didn't need much putting together.
"You need help with all this?" Timmy looked around at all the un-put-together furniture.
"Um, no, it's okay; Christian can do some of it." I sway awkwardly, looking at the mess of a living room, and suddenly become self-conscious, even though I hadn't been before with just Molly and Ellie.
"Yeah, right." Timothee grabs one of the two side tables and messes with it for a few minutes before setting it down perfectly put together; he does the same to the second one. "See, easy."
"For you." I chuckle.
The evening went as planned. Timothee built my couch in under an hour, moved it to its desired position, straightened my TV stand, tweaked my bedframe, and built my barstools. We were both on our second cider, sitting on the couch with a fresh pizza box in the middle of us.
"I have a confession," I said, looking up and grabbing a second slice.
"Hmm?" Timmy hums, looking at me with a bite full.
"I had Ellie and Molly over earlier, my two friends you met out at the bar that one time." I rub the back of my neck quickly, not knowing if bringing up that night is appropriate. "I already had three slices of pizza."
Timothee laughed. "Well, did you at least order from a different place this time?"
I shook my head. "No."
We both bursted out laughing. I leaned my arm on the side of the couch and took a bite of food. "Really, thank you again."
Timothee shook his head. "Don't have to thank me."
I looked around the room, amazed at how well my place was coming together quickly. I wouldn't have gotten this far in one day without anyone's help.
"So where is Christian anyway?" Timothee brings my attention back to him.
"Golfing"
Timothee scoffs.
"What?" My eyes widen.
"Nothing, nothing." Timothee grabs his cider on the side table and takes a swig.
"You don't golf?" I ask sarcastically.
Timothee eyes me for a second and then shows me both his hands, covered faintly in black motor oil. I know that no matter how often he washes his hands, that stuff stays on for weeks. "Pardon me for being rude, but—" he checks his watch. "Isn't it a little late to be golfing?"
"Oh." Leaves my mouth as I lean forward to look at the time on his watch. "He did say he was going to dinner after."
Timothee nods and takes another sip of his drink.
"You and Christian don't have much in common, huh?" I blurt.
"What makes you say that?" Timothee fixes his position.
" I dunno, two completely different professions, hobbies aren't the same."
Timothee nods slowly in agreement.
"What do you have in common then?" I poke.
"Let's see." Timothee clicks his tongue in thought.
I sat listening to the TV's low background noise. We turned it on once we sat down to eat. I couldn't make out what was playing; instead of turning my head to check, I just stared at Timmy. His hair was long, his jawline chiseled, and his eyes piercing with dark circles underneath. He sat still, thinking, wearing a loose-fitting black tee.
"I guess- we both like-" Timothee turned to me.
I laugh for a second at how long it's taken him to think of something.
"Reading and women." He shrugged, knowing that was the best he could think of.
"Well done." I clap twice.
Timothee lowers his head for a second as if he is taking a slight bow.
"You two are something else." I finish the rest of my drink and rise to grab another.
"Well, yeah-" Timothee trails off.
"You want another?" I ask, opening the fridge. "I have two left."
"Fuck it."
"I guess I should be asking Christian these questions, sorry. I'm just trying to get to know you more." I smile, taking a bottle opener to the top of our cold ciders.
"I get it. You're not asking for too personal information, so it's fine. You're just asking what you've observed." Timothee takes his cider from my hand, thanking me.
"Does it ever bother you, tho?" I sit back in my original spot and cross my legs. "You two not being close."
"Uh yeah, it used to, but not much anymore."
I nod, and before I can say anything else, there's a knock at the door. Timothee and I look at each other, not expecting anyone. I walk down the hall towards the entrance, look through the peephole, and unlock the door.
"Hey babe," Christian says, kissing me on the cheek as he enters. "Woah, it looks awesome in here already."
"Hi, wow, I wasn't expecting you today." I close the door softly behind him and follow him to the living room.
"Well, well, well, what's going on here? You guys celebrating without me?" Christian says as he puts his keys and a bottle of expensive champagne on my kitchen island. He walks towards Timothee, grabs his cider and takes a long gulp. "Tim, you live right down the street from here, yeah?"
Timothee nods, staring at his brother, finishing the rest of his drink.
"I thought I owed it to Tim to feed him since he put everything together that I needed help with." I walk over and join the two.
Christian swings his body haphazardly around the living room area, looking at all the neatly put-together furniture. "Yeah, I wouldn't have been able to do this alone."
"We know," Timothee says, smirking.
"Oh, be quiet." Christian wacks Timothee's arm.
"Are you drunk?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at Christian.
"I may have had a few too many drinks at the course and at dinner," Christian says, laughing.
"I should get going; I have to be at the shop early tomorrow," Timothee said, taking his cider and plate to the kitchen to clean.
"Please, Tim, let me do it. You've done enough." I put my hand on his at the sink, removed his plate, and set it down.
"Thanks SO much for keeping her company; she would've been bugging me if you hadn't been here." Christian joked, taking a seat in Timothees' now empty spot.
I cross my arms and shoot Christian a look.
"Anytime." Timothee bumps my arm. "Goodnight, guys."
"Buh-bye!" Christian waved.
"Let me walk you out so I can lock the door behind you," I say, following behind Tim. "Thank you again; I couldn't have done it without you." I lean on the door as Timothee shrugs on his hoodie.
"And thank you for the pizza and cider." Timothee slips his black Doc Martens on his feet and backs out the door onto the stoop. "Let me know if you need anything else, yeah?"
"Yeah, thank you."
"Goodnight, C." Timothee smiles faintly and walks down the steps and around the corner into the darkness.
I shut the door slowly before me, briefly leaning my forehead on it when it closed. I was dreading going back to hang out with drunk Christian. I was also furious at the thought of him driving here intoxicated and putting himself and, more importantly, other people at risk. I sigh and walk back towards the couch.
"Shall we open the champagne I brought?" Christian says, sprawled out on the couch, his jeans now kicked off onto the floor.
"I think you've had enough." I force a laugh.
"You're no fun." Christian barks.
"I would've appreciated your help today." I cross my arms, staring down at him.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm sorry." Christian reaches his hands towards my hips and pulls me onto him. "What do you say we—uh, break this place in?" Christian's fingers slowly push down my tank top strap.
"You're drunk, no thank you."
"Come on." Christian pouts.
I shake my head.
"How long are you going to make me wait for Cas?" Christian straightens up. "I don't get it."
"We've only been dating for two and a half months." I fix my position on him. "and you really think the first time we sleep together, I want my boyfriend to be drunk?"
Christian rolls his eyes. "It's not like you're a virgin, you know."
"And? My apologies for wanting to take things slow." I stand up off of Christian's lap. "I'm so sick of having this conversation."
"You know how many girls I had to deny tonight?" Christian slurs.
"You had to?" I hissed. Jesus Chr—" I thumbed my eyebrows. "Get out, call an Uber, call your brother, get out." I walk towards the kitchen, load mine and Timothee's plates into the dishwasher, and slam it shut.
"Woah, come on!" Christian rises.
"I'm serious." I whip back towards Christian and lean my hands on the sink behind me. "Leave." I motion my eyes towards the front door. "I just moved in here. You're not tainting this place with your negative energy because I won't sleep with you." I shake my head. "If I were some girl that slept with everyone who complimented her, I would get ridiculed for that, but the fact that I take things slow is a problem to you? Fucking A."
"Baby, that's not-"
"Leave, now." I shoot my hand towards the door.
"Whatever, I don't need this. I'm walking to Tim's," Christian says while sloppily putting on his pants and heading for the front door. He fumbles with the lock for a few seconds before figuring it out. The door slams shut behind him, and I'm left to the same low humming sound on the television.
---
Timothee
I stepped out of the shower abruptly to my apartment doorbell, which was going off nonstop. I wrapped a towel around my waist and carefully stepped out of the bathroom safely off the tile floor. "Okay, okay, my God, I'm coming." I clicked the callbox, and a live video of Christian swaying back and forth popped up. I don't even ask what's happening; I buzz him up and head to my room to get dressed, wondering if Cassandra is with him. The door bangs loudly, and muffled talking is on the other side.
"Open up!"
"What the fuck are you doing?" I swing the door open and pull him inside, afraid one of my neighbors is going to come out and mistake him for another homeless Portland tweaker.
"Can I stay here?" Christian brushes past me and beelines my couch, falling down face first.
"What happened? Where's Cassandra?" I ask, drying my hair more with the towel in hand.
"We kinda go into it," Christian murmured into my decorative pillow.
"Huh? Why? I just left." I stood over Christian to hear him better.
"She's just so- ugh- girls, man." Christian turned on his back so he could face me.
I flared my arms out, hoping he would elaborate.
"I pushed her a little too hard and said something mean."
"What do you mean you pushed her?" My tone was harsh.
"Not physically, man. Jeez." Christian held his hands up in defense. "I don't want to talk about it—it's embarrassing."
"Come on," I sit down. "You just startled the crap out of me and now you're laying in my apartment which you've only been too twice since I moved here three years ago, start talking." I lean back in my chair.
I don't think there's been a time in the last seven years when Christian and I have been in this intimate of a predicament. We don't hang out together outside of family functions. We rarely call or text each other, let alone show up to each other's apartments drunk, wanting to talk about their insanely beautiful girlfriend to each other.
Don't say that OR think that, Timothee, it's wrong.
Christian and I used to be insanely close all throughout our childhood and high school. We did almost everything together. Even all the stuff one of us didn't like, we did it to hang out with each other. Thinking back to those times breaks my heart. I guess I wasn't frank with Cassandra earlier. Not being close anymore does hurt, but what tore us apart seven years ago hurts even more. The betrayal from family members stings slightly more than from friends or acquaintances. Although Cas asked about our relationship, I didn't see it fit for me to be the one explaining to her why we have such a divide. I know that's for Christian to tell her in time or if she ever asks. A small part of me hopes she does.
"Okay!" Christian yells out, looking at the ceiling. "We uh—haven't you know yet?"
"What?" I say, puzzled.
"Cassandra and I haven't... had sex yet."
"Okay...?" I trail off, slightly uncomfortable to learn about my brother's sex life.
"She's so old fashioned; she wants to date and see if this relationship is worth it to have sex and blah blah blah."
"Don't be a dick, respect her wishes. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I know! I just- I've never wanted someone this bad before." Christian pauses. "I don't know what I have to do to prove to her that I care about her."
"Uh, maybe do as she asks? And not push her."
"Has this ever happened to you?" Christian turned to look at me finally.
I think for a second. "To be honest, no."
"See!" Christian throws his arms up in defeat.
"It's kinda refreshing tho." I catch myself smiling.
"What?"
"It's kinda nice." I clear my throat hard, hoping it clears my smile as well.
"How so?"
"Women are delicate creatures; most of the time, they don't look at sex like we do." I inhale heavily. "We can have sex with the same girl multiple times and not feel a thing, but little do we know that girl is feeling a million different things towards us." I can't believe I have to explain this to my brother right now, let alone at all. "She is looking out for herself and trying not to get her feelings hurt."
"I'm already dating her, though. What? I'm going to fuck her and dump her?" Christian sits up.
"It's possible that that's happened to her, and that's why she puts this boundary up now. She's trying to see if you like her enough to stick around or if you get sick of waiting and leave." I clasp my hands together. "You've never asked her about this before?"
"No." Christian shakes his head like a five-year-old being scolded.
"Okay, wow." I breathe out deeply. How can my brother be so fucking stupid?
"You're so right, tho." Christian nods.
I shrug and stand up slowly. "Use the blanket on the back of the couch; I'll grab you a pillow."
"Thanks." Christian grabs the blanket and drapes it over himself.
I snatch a pillow off my bed and hand it to Christian. "There's water in the fridge." I walk back towards my room when I'm stopped.
"Tim," Christian says.
"Yeah?" I turn and see he's not looking at me but up at the ceiling again.
"I'm sorry..." He whispers.
I clench my jaw and turn back towards my room, shutting the door softly behind me.