Firefighter's Virgin

“Oh, nice.”

“Nice?” I said, unable to conceal my disgust. “You’re a pig.”

“And you’re a nag.”

I frowned. “When did you get home?”

“I’ve been home all day,” he replied, without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Don’t you have a job?”

“I’m using up my sick days,” Brent said. “Besides, I’ve started up a business recently, and it’s starting to pick up steam.”

“What business?” I asked curiously.

“Buying and selling,” he replied distractedly. “It’s complicated; you wouldn’t understand it.”

“I wouldn’t understand buying and selling?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah… Can we talk later? I’m watching something.”

I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t want to start a fight, so instead, I kept my tone even. “I’d be happy to leave you to your show, except that you’re kind of watching it in my bedroom.”

“Fuck, you’re right.” He nodded. “Use my room till I’m done.”

Wordlessly, I went into his room and shut the door to drown out the sound of the television. I was lying on Brent’s bed, dreaming of living in an apartment on my own, when my phone started to ring. I glanced down and saw Phil’s name on my screen. For the first time since I’d met him, I hesitated before answering. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him. It was just that I was frustrated with how things were between us.

There was so much chemistry there. There was a definite connection, and yet, for some reason, Phil seemed oblivious to it. Or maybe this was just all in my head, and the chemistry was one-sided. Given the state of my life, I needed something to be happy about, and I had hoped that Phil would give me that little spark of hope. The fact that he was handsome, accomplished, and brave only made my yearning greater—and that meant that I was perpetually disappointed.

“Hi,” I said, finally picking up.

“I was afraid you weren’t going to pick up,” he said.

“Why?” I asked, deciding to be a little flirty today to see how he’d react. “Did you miss me?”

“I like talking to you,” he replied. “You know that.”

It was a lukewarm answer and one that took pains to keep things clear and platonic. “How was your day?” I asked.

“Pulled a car off an old lady,” Phil replied proudly.

“Wow, really?”

“Well…me and seven other guys,” he laughed. “But it’s still worth mentioning, I think.”

“For sure,” I agreed. “How’s the old lady?”

“She was fine. She just needed some oxygen once we managed to clear her from the car,” he said.

“Was that because of the car…or because of you?” I asked teasingly.

“Huh?”

“She probably saw you and felt a little light-headed,” I told him. “Good-looking men have that effect on women.”

“It was a pretty massive car…it could have nearly crushed her to death. She was very lucky.”

I didn’t know if he was completely obtuse, just disinterested, or if I was just horrible at flirting, but Phil was giving me nothing in return. He deftly changed the subject, and I listened without really hearing him. My mind was tired and frustrated, and it was just one of those days when nothing seemed to go right. Halfway through the conversation, I zoned back in and listened to the last half of one of Phil’s fireman stories.