Don't Kiss the Bride

As dreamy as all that was, it also terrified me. I shouldn’t be feeling that way about him, and what he said last night was true. We shouldn’t be kissing and touching. We’re friends. Roommates. Over a decade apart in age. Our arrangement doesn’t come with a side of Friends with Benefits.

Crossing that line could get really, really complicated and messy, with my biggest fear being that he might divorce me before I’m able to get better and get my life on track.

I can’t risk that.

“Skylar, hello?” Megan prompts impatiently.

I’m lost in my thoughts; not entirely sure I want to share my and Jude’s private moments with Megan. I want to hold them inside, keep them as my very own, safe, near my heart.

“Nothing happened,” I say casually. “We started watching The Office. You were right, it’s really funny.”

She stops walking and grabs on to my arm. “Seriously? That’s not what you were going to tell me.”

“Yes it—” We both jump as a shrill whistle pierces our ears.

“Ladies! If you don’t move, you’re looking at an hour of detention, and you’ll be required to sprint this track the entire time!”

Ugh.

“Don’t lie to me, Skylar,” Megan says as we begin a brisk walk under Mrs. Stephens’ eagle eye. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing…”

“I just told you my vajayjay is totally wrecked from having sex seven times. We’re supposed to share everything with each other. The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

Sighing, I say, “You’re right. I’m just confused. I’m not sure I want to talk about it.”

“Talking about it will unconfuse you. I’m a great problem solver.”

Trying to hold back a laugh-snort, I give in. She’ll bug me nonstop if she thinks I’m keeping her in the dark.

Our walking picks up a bit as I spill everything to Megan. Everything Jude’s aunt told me, the back massage, the sexy embrace, the kiss. I dial back my excitement about all of it. I’d rather Megan think I’m more curious about the situation than her knowing the myriad of emotions I’m feeling.

“Holy cannoli, Skylar. This is a whole situation playing out.”

“Tell me about it. And like he can’t be telling me we're not going to be kissing anymore when he’s standing there with his smolder on.”

“Agreed. Do you think he’s a player? Maybe he likes this whole cat-and-mouse game.”

She asks the question I’ve been asking myself.

“I’ve been thinking that,” I say slowly. “And to be honest, I really don’t think so. I haven’t seen any hints that he’s a player. I think he’s in the same boat as me—surprised that there’s…” I struggle to find the right word. “An attraction between us.”

“Well, you’re both beautiful people.”

“Stop it,” I say, looking down at my feet.

“It’s true. He’s hot as hell. You’re adorable and beautiful. Ya’ll would make the cutest babies.”

I laugh, thinking of Aunt Suzy shipping us for a baby, and a weird pain shoots through my jaw. I’ve felt it a few times over the past few weeks, and it’s not going away.

“I’m not sure what to do or how to act,” I reply, rubbing my cheek. “I wasn’t expecting to be in this position.”

“Do you feel safe?” she asks, her tone switching to serious. “Here you are, living in this older dude’s house, legally married to him. He practically owns you. Maybe you should leave.”

And go where? I want to ask, but I’m too embarrassed to admit that I’d probably end up living in my car.

“I don’t feel uncomfortable or unsafe around him. There’s nothing threatening or sketchy about him. And he doesn’t own me. I’ve never felt any creeper vibes. I really just feel like we both went into this as friends, with totally platonic intentions, and now there’s this unexpected connection between us. It’s more than just physical attraction. It’s hard to explain.”

“Geez, Skylar. Don’t tell me you’re falling in love with him.” The tinge of pity in her voice irks me. I’m not a little lovesick girl swooning over someone who’s impossibly out of reach.

Am I?

“I’m not,” I say quickly.

“Do you want something to happen with him? Like a friends with bennies situation? I mean, why not?” She shrugs. “You’re both consenting adults. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I don’t know… I guess I wouldn’t be opposed to that if we were both on the same page.” An add-on like that to our situation wouldn’t exactly be horrible, but I’m still worried if things went wrong, he could boot me right out.

“If I were you, I’d stop analyzing. Just go with it. If he flirts with you, flirt back. Don’t tease him, but test the waters. Think of it as a learning experience. He doesn’t look like he’d be shy in the bedroom if you get my drift. It’s your senior year; you should be having fun. Once we graduate, we have to start adulting.”