“So, do you think I can pull off a twenties hairstyle like that?” Maggie asks.
We’re in my basement, watching a movie. Maggie is sitting beside me. We’re watching an old musical set in the twenties. Maggie wanted to watch some biopic, I wanted to watch a romantic comedy, and somehow we compromised on this.
“As well as you can a pink pixie cut,” I say. I love to piss her off sometimes.
“Bitch,” she says and hits me with a pillow.
“That was uncalled for. I actually think you’d look good with one. It could be cute, but you would need to get some new clothes too. Some modified vintage stuff. It could be hot.”
“Are you trying to get me back for the David Bowie incident?” she asks.
“I should.” She deserves it.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“You got me to dress up as David Bowie.”
“You didn’t have a costume for an eighties party.” So Maggie painted a lightning bolt on my face.
“Two guys hit on me,” I say.
“One of them was actually kind of hot.”
“He grabbed my ass.” It was really embarrassing.
“What can I say? You were a sexy Bowie.”
We both laugh.
Maggie pops up a bit. She adjusts herself so that she’s facing me. I can tell she has an idea she’s very happy with. There’s this little glimmer in her eye when she’s excited. When we were kids, it always meant trouble. I would see that look and I’d know she had a plan.
She’s my best friend. She’s my partner. I love her so much. Things would be so much easier if we could be together. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so alone.
I look in her eyes. I want that glimmer. I don’t know why I am doing it, but I find myself leaning in to kiss her.
She pulls away. She doesn’t slap me, but it kind of feels like she did.
“What are you doing?” she asks. She’s freaking out a bit.
“I don’t know,” I say. I don’t know.
“Friends don’t fuck friends. Remember?”
“I wasn’t trying to fuck you,” I say.
“Don’t think kissing’s any better.”
“I thought you said that a kiss was just a really amazing hug, but with your lips?”
“You’re right,” Maggie says. “No more hugging. Clearly somehow I have been sending the wrong signals.”
“Just calm down,” I say.
“Aaron, you know the rule. Friends don’t fuck friends unless they’re both really drunk. And then things get awkward and then everyone tries to move on, but it’s always there in the back of your head tearing away at the friendship.”
“You don’t drink,” I say.
“Okay, so let’s leave it at, friends don’t fuck friends, period.”
“That wasn’t an ‘I want to fuck you’ kiss.” I say. “I love you, but I don’t want to fuck you. I just wanted to kiss you. I don’t really know why.” When I say it out loud like that, it sounds a lot more confusing than what I’m feeling. “I hope I don’t sound crazy.”
“A little crazy, but I’m willing to go with it,” Maggie says. “Just to be clear, not an ‘I want to fuck you’ kiss.”
“Not even an ‘I want to feel you boobs’ kiss. Just an ‘I love you’ kiss.”
Maggie leans in. “I love you too, Aaron.” She kisses me on the cheek. “I just never want to see you naked.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s never speak of this again,” Maggie says.
“That goes unsaid,” I say. “If the touchy boy from the eighties party found out I tried to kiss someone else, he might be a little heartbroken.”
“Didn’t you see? The two guys who hit on you went home together.”
“But I thought we had something special. Now I just feel dirty and used.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure he won’t be the last man to grab your ass.”
“We can only hope,” I say. I’m a little uncomfortable with the idea, but I can’t let Maggie get in the last word on the matter.