Cal’s pacing around the room while I just lie on the couch. I haven’t moved in the last hour, and I’m still in my pajamas. It’s four in the afternoon. Our road trip went well, but it was mostly filled with an awkward silence that neither of us are really known for, so he’s been on edge since we got here last night. I feel guilty, but also… this is my vacation, and if I don’t wanna do anything, I don’t have to, you know? Except… He’s Cal, and he doesn’t know how to stop. So he just walks back and forth and back and forth and then he leans forward on the couch and puts his chin on my head, then walks back around and sits in front of me on the ottoman, blocking the TV, so I just open my phone instead and start playing on there. So then he gets up again and does a little twirl, maybe starts practicing some of his dances for some of his shows, then starts all over again. Finally, he starts trying to chat with me again.
“Dude, are you really just gonna sit there the whole week? There’s a lake. There’s a nice movie theater. There are a few clubs we could probably get into. Fancy restaurants. What about that one you brought me to last year? That place was good. We could get booze and day drink, I’m sure you’ve got a fake, right? Or your parents have stuff here somewhere.” He walks to the kitchen behind me and starts opening cabinets. They snap close no matter how hard you push because they’re so unused that they still have a lot of that virgin tightness. That wood virgin tightness. You know what I mean? Or, wait… Is it the hinges that have that tightness? Whatever. I tug my blanket up and click to another channel.
“Liam,” he whispers, right up in my ear. It gives me chills and I jump, then roll my eyes and hit him in the shoulder with the back of my hand without looking back at him. “Seriously, Marshmallow, let’s do something. I could get us tickets to see a live show, maybe? Or we could go to that bookstore you love! Something, for the love of God.”
I don’t move, nor do I respond.
“Good Lord, Liam, let’s go! Or, you know what, fine! Fine. It’s fine.” He stops his pacing and sits on the couch next to me, then, after looking at me twice with the devil in his eyes, he leaps up and crashes down on me with all of his weight. When I protest, he just wiggles a little bit. After a moment, I get comfortable enough to see the TV and not suffer, so again, I don’t bother to move. I’m actually planning on running out to the lake soon, once I can finish playing my game on my phone. It’s one of those where you have to come back at certain points of the day. And I only woke up at noon because I stayed up so late crying about Noah. What else is new. I’d tell Cal this, but then he’d want to talk about feelings. And it’s sort of fun to torture him, so here we are.
Wait… Is he…? He is. He totally is. Holy shit. Blood goes down to my pants-area, and that’s a serious problem because these pajama bottoms are not thick enough to disguise anything at all. But he’s wrapping his arms around me and snuggling close. It’s not like we didn’t do this at all growing up. We totally did. But it was never… I don’t know, it never felt like this. I mean, then it would be like midnight and we would be at a sleepover and we’d just collapse on top of each other. Right now he’s actively winding his arm up my back and brushing my ass. Like, deliberately. He has to know that’s my ass. I’m sitting funny on the couch to begin with, (gays can’t sit in chairs, you can fight me on this), but that just makes it more obvious that my butt isn’t totally on the cushion and that he’s touching it. But he’s not grabbing it or anything, he’s just brushing past it and stretching around me like a cat.
It’s kind of hot.
Then I shift, because the thought of Noah rushes into my mind like the thought of kicking a small child or something, you know, like one of those horrible intrusive thoughts you get, and Cal makes a muffled sound of distress when his face gets buried in the couch cushions. Then he starts giggling and gets up. His face is really, really close to mine. His eyes are pretty. He’s pretty.
And I just pushed him off because I was thinking about my not-boyfriend who I really like and do not want to cheat on! Not that we’re together, because I have commitment issues, but still.
Cal leans back, cracks his knuckles, then lunges at me, sending us both tumbling off of the couch and knocking the ottoman forward towards the TV. I try to push him off, especially because I don’t want him to feel the growing boner I’ve got going on from all of the friction between us, but he’s just a little bit bigger, just like he was when we were kids, so I can’t get him to budge, at all.
“This is for being a damn bum today, Marshmallow!” he shouts, then grabs the pillow I was leaning on so luxuriously just a moment ago and proceeds to whack me in the face with it. It’s really huge and plush, so it doesn’t hurt, but the distraction gives me enough time to shift my hips and send him tumbling away. I roll on top of him this time and get him pinned.
“It’s a VACATION, CALVIN! I don’t have to do anything if I don’t WANT TO!”
He uses his pillow to hit me again, but I’m limiting his reach by putting all of my weight on him, so he can’t do too much.
“But you brought ME WITH and I WANT TO DO STUFF, LIAM!” he yells back, giggling and still trying to hit me with his pillow. I manage to snatch it up and toss it onto the armchair, far out of his reach. He gives me a little pout, but his whole face is still aglow with amusement.
“Too bad. I want to watch this show. The one that I now have to rewind to see a big chunk of now, thanks to you. You did this to yourself. Now stay trapped down there, and have fun in bad man jail.”
“Bold of you to assume this isn’t exactly where I want you.” When I blush and look down at him in horror, he shrugs, then adds, “You know. On top of me. With your legs wrapped around me.”
I bolt up and throw the pillow at him. He cackles behind me. The show can wait, I need a shower. Probably a cold one.
“Right. I’ve got to go shower if you want to do anything. You know that, right?” He rolls his eyes and stands up. Then, he rushes over and rests his chin on my shoulder, sending a chill down my spine.
“Do you want company?” he asks.
“You know, Cal, you keep going like this and I’m gonna start thinking weird things about you.” As if I haven’t been doing that since the minute I learned what sex is.
“You mean you haven’t been doing that for years?”
I’m thankful he can’t see my blush as I start up the stairs away from him.
“Don’t be weird,” I mumble.
“Have a good shower, Marshmallow,” he calls up after me.
When I make it upstairs, the wood of the floor creaks beneath my weight. I pop into my typical bedroom, the one I claimed when I was three and my parents brought me here for the first time, and I go through some of the clothes there and draw out a shirt. It’s my favorite Michigan shirt. All of my clothes here are the same as they always have been, since we just leave them here every time. My parents usually send a maid to clean up and do laundry before anyone comes here, but I didn’t warn them this time, so I don’t think they did. It’s fine by me--they’re still clean clothes.
The pants all look the same, too. There’s a real comfortable familiarity here, and I really appreciate it. Especially when my phone lights up across the room with the sixth text from Noah since Cal and I left. I haven’t even opened any of them. I just… I don’t want to think about him right now. Next week, I’ll go back and chill with him. We’ll be roommates again and cool. He’ll forget I was his gay awakening. Right? Because the way Cal’s acting right now…
Ugh.
When did I become the corner of a love triangle?
No. No, I should reply to him. I should be honest! It’s not a punishment for him being weird, it’s just that… he didn’t come, and I’m talking to Cal, and Cal’s being flirty, and I’m not going to not flirt back. And that doesn’t mean that I don’t like Noah still!
Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh.
I need to shower.
But I check Noah’s texts first.
“Hey, Lee, just wanted to check in.
Hey, Lee, just wondering how Michigan is.
I’m sorry I made you upset = ((((((
Bro I think I’m gonna fuck Sofia again would you be mad. You would be mad. But you can’t be mad bc youre fucking Cal rn blehhhhh =ppppp have fun lil guy imy
Liam I fucked Sofia oh god I feel so bad do you hate me I’m so sorry i’m so sorry I love you I didn’t mean to do that wait I said I love you I don’t mean that either bro I’m literally crying rn idk what to do it’s a good thing I have Terrence rn bc i’m fucken bawling ugh
Heeeeeeyyyy, Liam… I’m sorry for the spam last night. Do you think you have time for a phone call later today? I think we should talk.”
That’s what he said.
Wow. Um, that was a lot. And I think I feel nauseous a little bit. Or at least my stomach is churning. And my heart has that uncomfortable “drama burn” where my chest feels tight when I have something to be anxious about. I do this thing where I just cannot think about anything else when something nerve-wracking happens… Ugh.
And the worst part is, who am I even going to talk to about it? I could call Syd, but then Cal’s gonna get nosy. Respectfully nosy, but nosy. I could also call Maggie, but the chances that she’d bring it up to Cal later are astronomical. I should call Noah, but I don’t know if I have time to today. Plus, what would I even say? “Yeah, it bothers me that you slept with someone else and assumed that I slept with Cal but also this morning I was kinda thinking about it plus we aren’t dating so you don’t owe me that”?
Right.
I grab a pair of pants down and toss them over my shoulder over the shirt I have there, grab some underwear, and walk down the hallway to the bathroom.
I can’t actually take a cold shower without dying, so the water is warm when it comes down on me and it’s not exactly refreshing, but at least it’s nice. I just… I don’t know how I feel right now, and it’s driving me nuts.
Am I the bad guy here? Am I leading Noah on?
I guess so. But I can’t get away from feelings for Cal, either. I’ve had those since before I met Noah. And I thought they were gone, but apparently they were just brimming beneath the surface. I hate that they’re here. I hate that they’re back. I hate that I feel like this! But I do, and telling myself I don’t and repressing one set of feelings or the other is never going to work.
What do I even do with that?
I dig my nails so tightly into my scalp when I start shampooing that I’m worried I’m going to draw blood. It feels nice, though. The intensity.
I shut off the water once I finish cleaning myself and grab a towel and dry myself off, then toss on my underwear and pants and shirt and socks and roll on some deodorant and a couple of sprays of cologne.
Downstairs, Cal’s splayed out on the couch, shirtless, in swim trunks, and has a bit of sunscreen smeared on his nose. Like a stereotypical beach boy. He looks so fucking hot, too. Including when he gives me a little pout and gets up off the couch.
“What are you wearing?!” he asks, looking up and down at my outfit like there’s something wrong with it. I mean, yeah, it’s not drop dead gorgeous or anything, but I don’t think I look bad…
“Um, clothes,” I reply. He does this thing with his jaw where he sticks it out lower at me and makes it look like he’s more confused than bothered and then flops back down on the couch.
“I see that. And that there is the problem, my friend.”
I try not to blush at that. Apparently, he notices, because he rolls his eyes, then says, “Not like that, you dummy. Where are your swim trunks?”
I look down at my pants. Right.
“Um, it’s kinda cold to swim, you know?”
He shrugs, leaning back with an air of luxury, splayed out on my family’s couch.
“I don’t think I agree, but whatever. What do you wanna do instead?”
I shrug back at him.
“I don’t know. See a movie?”
He rolls his eyes but grins.
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