Chris is the one who, in seconds, turns the storm within me into a gentle spring breeze. Over the past few days, I’ve been talking to him a lot, and I have to admit, I really enjoy his company. We easily drift between deep topics and small, silly ones. It’s become part of my morning routine to start the day with him. Now, it’s Christopher, not Mark, who’s the first to text me a “good morning,” and the funny thing is, I’ve gotten used to it so quickly that I just take his interest as something completely normal.

  Right now, I’m at a supermarket with James and William. I’m sitting in the huge shopping cart while Mark pushes it, and William diligently tosses groceries in. I scroll on my phone, occasionally glancing up at the guys. William strokes his chin thoughtfully, eyeing the frozen foods, while James is busy making sure his friend has a mildly embarrassing time at checkout. He disappears down the aisles and throws random, questionable items into the cart next to my legs, things like a toy car, a squeaky rubber duck, and even a bottle of lube alongside a suspiciously large cucumber. Mark finds it hilarious, yet when James disappears and William’s attention wanders, Mark sneaks these items back onto the shelves or into coolers as if they never existed.

  “Should I grab some fish?”

  “No!” I replied instantly. “Don’t you dare put a whole fish next to my feet or my waist.”

  “Alright, time to turn around then.” as William says this, Mark spins the cart on its axis for what feels like the hundredth time today, heading toward the aisle that William, in his baseball cap, has pointed out.

  “I’m gonna be sick...” I mutter quietly, glancing at James, who simply raises his finger as if to say “Shh,” and then slips a pair of men’s thongs into the cart.

  Gradually, the cart fills with groceries. I’ve got a couple of eggs and two loaves of bread in my lap. It’ll be a treat trying to fit everything into the car, and then unloading it onto the checkout belt, only to pack it all up again... No matter how much I try to wish this task away, it’s inevitable. The line at self-checkout is huge, and it would take ages to get through.

  A few minutes later, William and Mark are packing up the trunk while James grabs hold of the cart and spins it, scattering my neatly arranged hair. I shut my eyes, laughing softly at his antics, finding it oddly enjoyable, until he stops, and the spinning makes my head swim.

  “Whuuuw!” James makes a whooshing noise with his mouth as he charges forward with me through the empty parking lot. I grab onto the metal bars to stop myself from tumbling forward as he suddenly “brakes” and, with a swift turn, pushes me back toward the Volkswagen.

  “You two are having way too much fun.” Mark remarks, smiling. James, in response, starts spinning me again. I’m really not feeling well at this point, but my pride stops me from calling it quits.

  “But playtime is almost over...” William mutters, trying not to spoil our fun.

  “Ahhh! Don’t you guys want to go back for a few more liters of milk?” James says, laughing as he brings the cart to a stop with his foot. I try to climb out, feeling like a hungover mess, which William notices. As soon as I stand, he effortlessly lifts me out and sets me down.

  “I think I’m good for a few months.” William says, at which James’ grin fades a bit. He sighs, pulling out his cigarette pack, but I give him a stern look before he can light up.

  “Now it’s your turn, get in!” at my command, he shoves the pack back into his pocket and hops into the cart, letting me take over as the driver.

  Of course, we quickly get bored of this game and end up back in the car. While Mark drives, I’m messaging with Chris, and we soon get to talking about going to Vernon. There’s another bar night on the agenda, but for some reason, Mark hasn’t replied to him in weeks. It’s a bit annoying knowing we’ve been invited out, but Mark didn’t even mention it. So, as soon as the guys step out of the car, I bring it up with him.

  “Hey... Chris invited us to go out. Don’t you feel like going?”

  “You’ve been talking to Christopher?!” he blurts out, a bit louder than necessary.

  “Well... for a few days now, yeah. Is that a problem?”

  “Oh, no, not at all...” he blinks, looking a little thrown, then takes a breath, as if he’s trying to figure out my angle without me actually saying it. I don’t want to address his strange reaction directly.

  “Look, I just want a bit of a break...” I glance out the window, pretty sure we’re not going anywhere. He’s taking all the usual turns toward my place, and I’m certain he’ll just drop me off with a “sleep well.”

  “Alright...”

  “What?!” I turned to face him, surprised at how happy I am.

  “I only haven’t replied lately because, well, I thought we’ve been drinking a lot recently. But if you want to go, then we’ll go.”

  “Chris would still appreciate a reply,” I mumble. “There’s no reason to ignore him.”

  Silence settles between us, with the only sound being the hum of the engine. In moments like these, my favorite thing is watching Mark as he drives. People are so captivating when they’re behind the wheel. He’s fully focused on the road, not even glancing down at the gear shift; he drives as if he’s been doing it all his life. It’s kind of mesmerizing.

  “Put some music on?” his question snaps me out of my trance, and I reach for the radio, a little flustered.

  “Sure.”

  Time passes quickly, but the songs seem to play in slow motion like I’m suspended in time with the music, while everything and everyone around me continues moving. And that’s exactly why it feels like a burden when we finally arrive and have to get out of the car. My body doesn’t want to move, but it obeys my brain’s commands, albeit with some resistance.

  “Ohh... Hey, guys!” Chris spots us first and greets us. I walk over to him, and as he stands up from his seat, we share a quick hug. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

  “These past weeks have been long. A beer is exactly what I need.” I say, looking up into his eyes. He gives me an understanding smile and pats my shoulder. I don’t linger; I head straight in for a pint while Mark says hi to the others.

  Inside, it’s relatively empty; only two waitstaff are working while another two seem to be goofing off, and a large group of friends has claimed the couch in the back. The bartender quickly pours my beer, which I pay for in cash, and I’m back with the group in no time. Outside, the crowd has grown, and they’ve even managed to grab a chair for me! They’ve wedged it between Gerry and Mark, and I do my best to quietly slip into the seat at a table that looks like a tornado has hit it, with shot glasses, bottles, and pints scattered everywhere.

  The conversation is mostly light-hearted with a hint of seriousness mixed in. Even though I’m not in the mood for most of these guys, it’s still nice to listen to them. Dante, Gerry, and Peter are debating some strange genre of music that they claim has the right vibe for anything, while Derek and Mark chat about cars. That leaves Christopher, who’s across from me, exchanging looks with me like we know each other’s dirtiest secrets. Of course, it’s all in our heads, but it keeps us amused long enough for me to finish my pint.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “I love how you drink your beer: like it’s a hot cocoa on a winter’s day.” he interrupts our staring contest, making me burst out laughing.

  “What kind of comparison is that? That glass is heavy!” I defend myself, setting down the pint glass on the table. Gerry turns toward me, making weird gestures.

  “You got a problem?” I laugh, and he chuckles too.

  “Can I bum a smoke?” he finally asks, and everyone goes quiet for a moment, except the two of us, who just keep laughing.

  “You smoke?” Chris turns to him, and Gerry raises his hands defensively.

  “Casual smoker!”

  “Ohh, like me?” Dante says with a surprised look, reaching for his pocket, but I’m faster. I pull out my pack and place it on the table. Gerry takes a cigarette, and wouldn’t you know it, he grabs my lucky one! The “luck” concept was William’s idea: the first cigarette in the pack is flipped, and whoever takes it owes you a full pack. You save it for tough times when you think things couldn’t possibly get worse... and Gerry just took it, right in front of me!

  Seeing this, I spin the cigarette around in his mouth before he lights it. He takes a second to process why, then smiles gratefully and lights up.

  “Thanks, Nina.”

  “No problem.” I light my cigarette too.

  “Should we play a game?” Gerry asks, turning to the others. “A little truth or dare? Anyone?” he punctuates his words by grabbing an empty beer bottle and spinning it on the table.

  The leftover drops fly everywhere, splashing on everyone, and the bottle knocks over several shot glasses. Everyone watches as the glasses hit the floor like it’s nothing unusual, but when we hear them shatter, all eyes turn to Gerry.

  “You’re insane, man.” Derek shakes his head.

  “Are you this crazy on your own, or does someone hold your hand?” Chris adds, but Gerry’s laughing so hard he can barely breathe. The whole thing makes me giggle, and my good mood spreads; soon, we’re all laughing.

  It doesn’t last too long, though, just until Mark’s eyes start watering, Dante doubles over from stomach cramps, Chris is laughing silently, and Derek and Gerry are wheezing like seals. At this point, we’re laughing at each other more than at the broken glasses, and even our cigarettes have burned down in our hands.

  “Ahhh, guys, I think it’s time to go home.” Christopher says, wiping away his tears before standing up.

  “Already?” Derek says, calming down a bit as he looks over at him.

  “There won’t be a better moment than this tonight, so I’m content,” Chris says, glancing at me. “Will you walk me to my bike?”

  “Me? Uh, sure.” I take the last sip from my glass and start to stand up, but before I can even take a drag on my cigarette, Mark grabs the back of my gray shirt.

  “Just make sure you bring him back.” he mutters, not exactly smiling. A prickly feeling creeps over me, and it doesn’t help that Dante’s steel-blue eyes are fixed on us, watching everything.

  “Of course.” Chris’s soft smile melts away the tension, and Mark lets go with a smirk. I light my cigarette again, and then Chris and I head off to find his bike.

  For a while, we walk in silence, not because we’re out of things to talk about, but because neither of us knows how to start. Plus, the others are still pretty close. We reach the end of the street, occasionally glancing at each other, but as soon as their voices fade away in the distance, I take a deep breath and exhale smoke.

  “Stop staring at me like that.” I tilt my head to the side, watching him walk ahead, and he smiles back.

  “You seriously don’t see it?”

  “I’m either blind or completely clueless.” I sigh, giving in. We’ve talked about this a lot over the past few days.

  “Mark tries to protect you from everything, and it drives Dante crazy. It’s like two wolves growling at each other, but neither one makes a move.”

  “Yeah... I can see that, but I don’t know why. I think Mark’s just worried, like, if you left me alone, what would happen to me in these dark alleys? And Dante just...”

  “Can’t stand Mark because of it?”

  “That sounds ridiculous.”

  “Exactly!” Chris says, pointing at me. “Dante must have a bigger reason for being so put off.” he’s trying to lead me somewhere with this, and I know exactly what he means, but it sounds absurd.

  “Is he out of his mind?”

  “He’s in love!”

  “Oh, fuck off!” I laugh, brushing it off.

  “Well, how else does a guy act when he’s in love?”

  “I’ve been in a relationship before, and the guy was very straightforward. There were no hints; he’d just ask me out if he wanted to go on a date. That’s what I’m used to. If Dante’s in love, he can just approach me like a normal person.” I drift off into thought, and Chris just stares at me.

  “We’re taking the long way.” he suddenly grabs my arm and steers me into a darker street.

  “Detour?”

  “Yep. And what do you mean, ‘you were in a relationship’? Just the one?”

  “I dated a guy in high school, but it only lasted two years. Mark needed more of my time, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship over a relationship.”

  “So you broke up with the guy because of Mark?”

  “I’d put it a little more delicately than that.” I flick away my cigarette butt, still not sure why we’re talking about this. “ Look, Chris, if anyone’s interested in me, they should just say so. I’m not gonna beat around the bush waiting for them to speak up.”

  “Logical... But! Dante already confessed his feelings!”

  “While throwing up because he was too drunk to see straight!”

  “A drunk person is honest!”

  “A drunk person is nuts!”

  I can see the genuine fatigue on Chris’s face; he can’t argue with me, but I can tell he’d like to keep going with this pointless debate. I get the sense he knows something I don’t, which bugs me. Like most guys, he’s afraid of direct conversations.

  He changes the topic as we walk slowly to retrieve his bike, which, for some reason, he left four streets away. It takes us half an hour to cover the distance, and just as we turn onto the street, Mark and Dante start calling Chris alternately, asking where we are. Chris doesn’t even bother responding; he just flashes his phone’s flashlight like a signal, letting everyone at the table know we’re finally back.

  “What took you so long?” Mark asks, and I’m starting to see what Chris meant: he really is keeping me on a short leash lately.

  “We had sex.” I raise my eyebrows, crossing my arms. Dante chokes on his drink and starts coughing, while the others stare at us with wide eyes.

  “Don’t believe her.” Chris sighs, and they all stop gawking.

  “Actually, we only called because everyone wanted to head home.” Derek says, scratching his head. I suddenly feel awkward.

  “Our conversation just ran a little long. Sorry about that.”

  “Yeah, sorry.” Chris lowers his gaze with a guilty expression, and Gerry waves us off.

  “Oh, it happens, don’t worry about it!”

  “Well... I guess I should thank you all for tonight.” I speak up, and everyone stands to say their goodbyes.

  Gerry hugs me first, then Derek and Chris doesn’t embrace me until after he’s said goodbye to Mark. Dante doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t even look at me, instead starting to carry glasses back inside to save the waitstaff the trouble. He doesn’t expect Mark to hang back and wait for him, but Mark does. They shake hands briefly, meeting each other’s gaze for a tense moment. Both men’s bodies go rigid, and they turn away from each other as if they hadn’t once been classmates for years.

  I don’t know what drives me to do this, but after Mark heads to the car, I find myself lost in thought again. Watching Dante’s figure move away, many things come to mind, especially how much I’d be willing to give up for him. I’d abandon my sight just to look into his eyes, my hearing to hear his laughter once more, my arms to embrace him one last time. I even think I’d rather watch a funeral than watch him walk away from me, so I turn away, but I can’t resist. I glance back at him, and to my surprise, he’s no longer five meters away but five centimeters. My gaze travels up his tall figure, finally settling on his face, where his full lips part as he speaks.

  “I forgot to say goodbye.”

  “It seemed like you didn’t want to say goodbye at all.”

  He says nothing. Instead, he silences me too: he grabs my wrist and pulls me to his chest, wrapping me in one of the world’s gentlest and warmest embraces. Yet his hold around my wrists is firm. For a brief moment, I hear his soft breathing near my ear, but he quickly pulls away, then walks off as if he hadn’t just held me like someone who never wants to let go.