party and I started acting wild and crazy, like dancing on top of a table or something. What would you do?”
“I would be wild and crazy with you.”
“See, Nick would probably laugh a little, then haul me off the table, throw me over his shoulder, and tell me to calm down. I think I need someone like that.”
Apparently Creed was still recovering from the fact that we’d just made out because his breathing was heavy and his eyes were in a trance with the couch cushion.
“I don’t know,” I continued explaining, a little out of breath myself. “Maybe it’s because I never had a father-figure around, and so I want that feeling of someone being in charge, taking control of me, challenging me.”
A few more moments passed; he was still dazed. It was like a spell was cast on him; he wouldn’t move. I had to admit, he wasn’t the only one shaken. We ended with our arms wrapped around each other, hugging.
After a while, we leaned back against the couch again, wrapped up in the blanket, and then my head rested against his shoulder.
I loved Creed; I would always love Creed. Where I put my trust in him, my devotion went to Nick, however hopeless.
The predicament, if I wasn’t mistaken, was that romantic love needed both trust and devotion…….
“You awake?”
“Yep,” I told him, forcing myself to sit up. “Did I fall asleep?”
“We both did.”
Nighttime was peaking through the short, basement windows. “What time is it?” I asked, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “I’ve been so sleepy lately.”
“Eight thirty.”
“Already?”
I heard him mumble back, “There it is again. Thought I heard something.” We lifted up, the blanket tangling us together.
Just as I was about to tell him I hadn’t heard anything, I heard it.
A single rap.
My heart stopped at the memorable knock.
“Come in,” Creed yelled before I could stop him.
As the door opened and the cold night elbowed its way in, I awakened to a lively sense of Nick’s presence and instantly shrunk back into the blanket. All my dizzy mind could do was imagine the view he was absorbing as he crossed the threshold and came inside. The scene left hardly any room for assumptions. A small room lit by a lone bulb, tousled sheets twisted over us, our bodies half lying on each other, our faces heavy-eyed and swollen. It looked worse than bad.
He glanced around the studio apartment with interested calm, advancing toward the table and placing a jacket over the seatback.
“My jacket,” I managed to say through the muzzy, uneasy hush. But what I meant was, ‘It’s not what it looks like’, and ‘What are you doing here?’. I’d created several scenarios of what it would be like the first time he came to my apartment, but spooning with my best friend on the couch was definitely not one of them.
“You left it at the banquet,” he said, his eyes scanning over the room and landing on my rumpled bed in the corner.
I heard Creed from somewhere to my left. “What’s up, man. How’s it going?”
“Hey,” Nick eventually answered, still preoccupied with his examination.
I would have rather had a tooth pulled than attempt to explain myself or address the situation or even talk to him at the moment. But something inside me couldn’t take the silence; even if I wouldn’t allow myself to speak what was on all of our minds. “I don’t understand,” I questioned. My mind’s eye quickly went to that night, the board professor and his wife leaving the table last; did they pick up my forgotten jacket? Give it to him later on? “How did you get my jacket if—”
When his eyes fell on mine, my words cut out. He gazed at me with a stillness that caused my skin to crawl. The intensity of his stare wasn’t harsh or angry, but it cut me to the core. And as hard as I tried, I lacked the ability to both look away or speak.
“My table, my guests,” he said as his eyes held me.
If there were valid reasons before—and I knew there were
“I would be wild and crazy with you.”
“See, Nick would probably laugh a little, then haul me off the table, throw me over his shoulder, and tell me to calm down. I think I need someone like that.”
Apparently Creed was still recovering from the fact that we’d just made out because his breathing was heavy and his eyes were in a trance with the couch cushion.
“I don’t know,” I continued explaining, a little out of breath myself. “Maybe it’s because I never had a father-figure around, and so I want that feeling of someone being in charge, taking control of me, challenging me.”
A few more moments passed; he was still dazed. It was like a spell was cast on him; he wouldn’t move. I had to admit, he wasn’t the only one shaken. We ended with our arms wrapped around each other, hugging.
After a while, we leaned back against the couch again, wrapped up in the blanket, and then my head rested against his shoulder.
I loved Creed; I would always love Creed. Where I put my trust in him, my devotion went to Nick, however hopeless.
The predicament, if I wasn’t mistaken, was that romantic love needed both trust and devotion…….
“You awake?”
“Yep,” I told him, forcing myself to sit up. “Did I fall asleep?”
“We both did.”
Nighttime was peaking through the short, basement windows. “What time is it?” I asked, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “I’ve been so sleepy lately.”
“Eight thirty.”
“Already?”
I heard him mumble back, “There it is again. Thought I heard something.” We lifted up, the blanket tangling us together.
Just as I was about to tell him I hadn’t heard anything, I heard it.
A single rap.
My heart stopped at the memorable knock.
“Come in,” Creed yelled before I could stop him.
As the door opened and the cold night elbowed its way in, I awakened to a lively sense of Nick’s presence and instantly shrunk back into the blanket. All my dizzy mind could do was imagine the view he was absorbing as he crossed the threshold and came inside. The scene left hardly any room for assumptions. A small room lit by a lone bulb, tousled sheets twisted over us, our bodies half lying on each other, our faces heavy-eyed and swollen. It looked worse than bad.
He glanced around the studio apartment with interested calm, advancing toward the table and placing a jacket over the seatback.
“My jacket,” I managed to say through the muzzy, uneasy hush. But what I meant was, ‘It’s not what it looks like’, and ‘What are you doing here?’. I’d created several scenarios of what it would be like the first time he came to my apartment, but spooning with my best friend on the couch was definitely not one of them.
“You left it at the banquet,” he said, his eyes scanning over the room and landing on my rumpled bed in the corner.
I heard Creed from somewhere to my left. “What’s up, man. How’s it going?”
“Hey,” Nick eventually answered, still preoccupied with his examination.
I would have rather had a tooth pulled than attempt to explain myself or address the situation or even talk to him at the moment. But something inside me couldn’t take the silence; even if I wouldn’t allow myself to speak what was on all of our minds. “I don’t understand,” I questioned. My mind’s eye quickly went to that night, the board professor and his wife leaving the table last; did they pick up my forgotten jacket? Give it to him later on? “How did you get my jacket if—”
When his eyes fell on mine, my words cut out. He gazed at me with a stillness that caused my skin to crawl. The intensity of his stare wasn’t harsh or angry, but it cut me to the core. And as hard as I tried, I lacked the ability to both look away or speak.
“My table, my guests,” he said as his eyes held me.
If there were valid reasons before—and I knew there were
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