Sometimes, not all the “sexy” stuff I do is completely productive. I’m sorry to interrupt my stories about Switch to talk about the difference between the things I want and the things I should have.
Last night, I went out with a few friends. I am currently back in town for some things I need to do for my research and other miscellaneous chores, so I am staying at Switch’s place. He had some paperwork to do for his job that’s starting soon (yes, he just recently graduated Ivy University and will be moving away soon) and so he sent me off and told me to just text him when I was on my way home.
Among the people out with me was my future roommate. She and I have been friends since freshman year. To be honest, when I first met her, I was sort of really into her. But, seeing the types of guys and girls she was into, I assumed she wouldn’t be into me and pursued what turned out to be a really great friendship.
Except, last night, she was dancing all over me. She took her shirt off on the dance floor and tried to get me to do same. She kept sneaking touches, grabs, smirks. She’d barely had anything to drink and she isn’t on any level a lightweight.
For weeks she had been claiming that us living together could be a disaster. Jokingly, to our friends. Now, we were dancing close, intimately. She was whispering things in my ear, how hot I was, how she wanted to be on top of me. We danced like that for a while. We touched, we spoke volumes with our eyes when we couldn’t hear over the music, she bit my shoulder gently, kissed my neck.
“I want to kiss you,” I said during a lull in the music. It sounded stupid, but the whole situation was strange. I was going to be living with her next year. We were teetering in a threshold.
She shook her head, “we shouldn’t. We should hold off on this.”
When the night ended, she offered to walk me back to Switch’s place. Instead, I went on my own, texting him before I left. It was pissing rain outside and by the time I got home I was soaked, my calves caked in mud.
“Did you fall or something?” he asked when I came in, gesturing to my legs.
I shook my head, “just had to wade to get here.” And then, in a drunken entendre, I added, “I’m dirty. Can we take a shower?”
He turned on the hot water and put me in the shower with him. I tried to stay present when he washed me off, but my head was elsewhere. I couldn’t stop thinking about her when I was in bed with him afterwards and we had our hands all over each other.
He didn’t seem to notice the bite mark on my shoulder. I guess he assumed he put it there himself.
The issue isn’t with Switch, really. He and I aren’t monogamous. It’s the fact that now I can’t shake the thought of her, that I have to live with her with this lingering between us, that apparently she has some stuff for me, too.
And, so, I don’t know, tumblr. I can’t tell our friends because I don’t want any drama. So, I figured I’d just put this stupid longing here.
