“Yeah?”
He stuffs his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, for once looking unsure of himself. “I asked you if you maybe wanted to go out sometime…there’s a Scorsese retrospective at the Nuart Theater.”
Reagan
I park the Jeep at the curb in front of the film and television building and stand in my seat. I’m watching Alice smile up at the shady guy as if he’s something special. Christ, she’s making heart eyes at the guy.
A fling, she said. She’s looking for a fling. My insides roil at the idea. And the ride home last night––what lasted maybe ten minutes––felt like a damn eternity with her ass pressed up against my hard-on. Thing is, despite the worst case of blue balls ever, it felt good to hold her, to have her there. It felt right.
Shady smiles back and a feeling of possessiveness so powerful comes over me, I’m ready to blow like a goddamn geyser in Yellowstone. Wtf?
Unless I’m playing sports I’m pretty easygoing. And I’m definitely not proprietary. Which is why I’m surprised at my own response.
Jumping out of the Jeep, I’m bearing down on the two of them before I’ve decided what to say, or why I’m saying it. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know this is bad, that it won’t end well because control feels like an abstract concept right now and that never bodes well.
“Hey, Reagan. Have you…” Alice’s voice fades when she gets a good look at my face, her big eyes narrowing on me.
I adopt an air of indifference, give her a lazy smile. She can’t know that it bothers me. That it makes me anxious and sick to my stomach. Because that would make me a hypocrite seeing as I’m the one that insisted on us being friends.
“The hell is this?” is my opening shot.
My forced smile isn’t fooling anyone. Shady scowls at me. However tempted I am to knock it off his face, I manage to curb the impulse. Except I just can’t seem to get a handle on this feeling that there’s a fox in the hen house and it’s my job to rip out the throat of the fox.
Alice eyeballs me warily. “Umm, what do you mean?”
She’s going to pretend nothing’s going on here, really? The fake smile drops and a scowl replaces it.
“I have practice. You’re filming today. But apparently we’re both going to be late because you’re too busy flirting.” I hook a thumb at the guy. Aside from that, I pretend he’s not still standing there and dump all my irritation on Alice.
Her eyes go wide. She blinks. Then she turns to him. “Simon, I have to go but I do want to see the Scorsese retrospective.”
Simon/Sean, whatever the fuck his name is, loses the attitude and smiles back at Alice like he just caught himself a nice fat chicken…my chicken. I don’t like the look or sound of this––at all.
“Can we go? Or would you rather stay here and continue to make eyes at each other.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone turn a flaming shade of red so fast. Alice looks like a burn victim.
“Hey, dude.” Shady decides now is the time to get really stupid. “Maybe you should––”
“Maybe you should run along, Simon,” I cut in, taking care to pronounce his name extra carefully.
Alice walks away, heading for the Jeep, and I follow. She gets in, buckles up. I do the same.
“Alice––”
“Don’t.” Her throat works. She refuses to look at me. Not a word is spoken on our way to the aquatics building, and a sinking feeling tells me the fallout is just beginning.
Alice
Big Deal: i’m hungry. wanna grab something to eat with me?
I read the text that comes in with a scowl puckering my face. The lack of capitals is especially nauseating tonight. I even tried it on my phone and now know for a fact that he has to actively make an effort to not capitalize. Which licks at my raw nerves even more.
The truth is I’m still furious at him for the scene he caused yesterday. Humiliating me like that in front of Simon was total BS and I need to see some serious remorse before we’re back to normal.
Me: No.
A good sixty seconds pass before the text alert rings again.
Big Deal: i’m traveling to palo alto for a game tomorrow. i guess i’ll see you when i get back.
I don’t bother answering. If he thinks he’s going to pretend everything is hunky dory after his tantrum, he’s got another thing coming.
Reagan
“I screwed up again,” I walk onto the patio scratching my head and muttering.
For someone who never used to screw up, I’m really making up for lost time.
I fall into the chair next to Dallas and glance at my phone. Alice hasn’t returned any of my texts since I dropped her off at her dorm after practice yesterday. She even refused fish tacos. It’s official––she’s mad at me.
“You’re in the right place. We specialize in screwups here.” He reaches into the cooler next to his chair, pulls out a can of Hazy IPA, and hands it over. Staring out at the Technicolor horizon, I crack open my beer and drink.
Two surfers bob on the water waiting to catch a wave. With the Santa Monica Bay as still as a hockey rink, they’ll be waiting a while.
“Where were you this morning?” I looked for him before heading off to class and found him gone and D isn’t a natural early riser unless he’s catching waves.
“Beverly Hills.”
That puts a confused frown on my face. “Why?”
“New shrink.”
I breathe out a sigh of relief. He’s been in danger of going off the rails lately––more so than usual––and the fact that he’s willing to talk to someone about it makes me feel immensely better. “You like this one?”
He shrugs, sips his beer. “We’ll see.”
I check out the wet suit pulled down to his waist. “You went surfing without me.”
“Had to clear my head.”
I stretch out my legs, heels kicked up on the brick wall that separates the patio from the beach.
He side-eyes me briefly. “So…what happened?”
“I got in a fight with Alice.” I’m still in shock over my reaction, the feelings that slammed into me when I saw her making heart eyes at the shady guy.
Ownership, that’s what it was. Raw and primal.
The image of her beaming up at the guy flashes in my mind and I shift in my seat. My skin feels shrink-wrapped. My mood wilts. It’s taking a lot to keep it up lately. Unless I’m with Bailey.
How could she really be into that guy? Maybe I misinterpreted. Maybe I didn’t. “She was talking to some dude and I lost my shit on her.”
Dallas chuckles. “Been there.” Pushing off the wall, he tips his chair back and lets it drop. “You know what possessiveness is?”
My feelers go up. This sounds like a trap. I glance sideways, to get a better read on the exact level of bullshit I’m dealing with and find nothing noteworthy. “Toxic?”
“Nah, man. It’s the soul’s recognition that the object of your affection is so precious and singular you know you’ll never find another.”
Despite D’s uncanny ability to read people, I wouldn’t call him particularly deep. His words do strike a chord, though.
Alice is singular. I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s smart and fun to be around, talented and passionate. And she gets me. I can’t even articulate all the ways she gets me. She’s the most precious thing in my life by far. “Are you fucking with me, or do you really believe that?”
Dallas’s gaze cuts sideways, his expression contemplative. “Yeah. I’m dead serious. Read it in an Insta meme a while back and it stuck with me.”
I knew the bullshit was waiting to make an appearance. “That’s just great,” I say, head shaking. “I should’ve known.”
“Who cares where I got it. Don’t throw out the message with the messenger.”
Maybe he’s right. “What would you do in my place?”
“Apologize and get on with the make-up sex. Best kind there is, bro.”
“We’ve never had sex. We’re only friends.”
He finally turns to get a good look at me, confusion all over his face. “You’re serious? I thought you were just trying to keep it low-key. Why not?”
“Because we’re friends,” I annunciate clearly, my frustration with the entire situation coming to the surface again.
“So you’re saying you don’t get a boner for her.”
All I get is boners for her. I wish that wasn’t the case, but it is. We agreed to be friends and only friends. That was the plan. Until one night I’m grabbing my dick and her flashing dark eyes appeared, next it was her heart-shaped ass, then her lips. And it didn’t stop there. It never stops.
Even worse, I feel less than zero motivation to stick my dick elsewhere. The dick wants what it wants. You can’t reason or argue with it. But I also know you’re also not supposed to want to bury it inside your friend.
“Man, c’mon,” I say. It makes me irritable as hell to hear him speak that way about her.
“C’mon, what? Since when are we not allowed to mention boners?”
“Not about Alice.” I crush the empty can and chuck it into the trash bin, rub my face. “Yeah, boners aren’t the problem. Or maybe they are the problem. I dunno…”
“What is the problem, then?”
“I can’t deal with any more responsibility, or expectations. I can’t be in a relationship…I’d fuck it up anyway.”
Problem is, I don’t want her seeing anyone else. The mere thought of her dating whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is makes my heart jackhammer and my palms sweat. Thus, the possessiveness. I feel helpless and it’s not a feeling I’m a fan of. I get enough of that dealing with Brian already.
We watch the sun take its last breath before it sinks into the Pacific. I check my phone to see if Alice has texted me back. Nothing.