The Boyfriend Rivalry by Milana Spencer

11

Curtis: Good Friend

I'm having a delicious dream, and I know it's a dream because colours are running and blurring into each other like watercolour. I'm leaning over someone, though I don't know who, because their face is pressed into tangled white sheets. It's not Kennedy, though, that's for certain. This person's hair is short. Shorter than Kennedy's.

They make a soft sound, and I press myself harder against the curve of their ass. It's a dream. I can enjoy this. I can rock against them and kiss their neck, and I'm not so fragile that I'll think it'll mean anything.

Of course, before the good part happens, my body decides it's time to wake up. My eyes snap open and white bed sheets come into focus. My cheek is crushed against my pillow, and my erection digs into the mattress. I roll over, keeping myself covered. It doesn't matter, though, because Liam's fast asleep, mouth slightly open, as per usual.

I check the time. Six-thirty. I sigh and close my eyes, trying to return to the dream. I can't go back to it — I never can — and end up lying there, thinking about it. I try to ignore my erection for about thirty seconds before my willpower breaks, and with an annoyed sigh, I roll myself out of bed and head to the bathroom. I switch on the tap for the shower, blasting steamy hot water. As I strip, I notice the remains of dried pimple cream on my chin.

Once inside the shower, I lean against a wall and close my eyes and my hands wander south.

*

"Curtis. Curtis. Are you dead?"

Someone pokes my shoulder and my eyes flutter open.

Liam stands over me, face close enough for me to see his individual lashes. They're thick and curled and accentuate the deep chocolate brown of his eyes. No wonder girls think he's so pretty.

Boss me around. What do you want me to do? I'll do anything you tell me to. His words from last night fly into my mind, and I shake my head to get rid of them. Why am I thinking about that?

Liam's finger approaches my shoulder, but I slap it away before he can poke me again. "I'm not dead," I grumble, voice raspy from sleep.

"I can see that," Liam says. Instead of his sweatpants, he's dressed already, his face washed and cleanly shaven. The only thing that's dishevelled about him is his purposely messy hair.

Horror runs through me because if Liam's ready, that means —

I sit up in my bed and check my phone. It's 9:45. How did I sleep in so late?

Liam is staring at me. Correction: he's staring at my chest. My bare chest.

"Oh my god," he begins.

I tense.

His eyes rise to meet mine. "Don't tell me you secretly sleep naked. Shit, do you wait for me to fall asleep and then strip —"

"No!" I interrupt, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Liam flinches, and I cover the important parts with the blanket. "This is just… an accident."

"An accident," he repeats.

I close my eyes and groan. After showering, I'd walked over to my bed, about to get changed and start the morning. But I'd been so tired, the way you get after jerking off, and my bed had looked so warm and inviting, so I pulled myself in it. Fifteen minutes, I'd told myself. I'd nap for fifteen minutes.

It's been almost three hours.

"Well," Liam says, straightening up. "When you're ready, come downstairs." He's not meeting my eyes.

"Is something happening?" I ask. I hope we're not doing another activity like sailing.

"Yes… no… you'll see," he answers.

Before I can ask for clarification, he disappears through the door and closes it behind him. I stare at it for a minute before burying my head in my hands, my cheeks hot against my palms.

As quickly as possible, I get ready before heading downstairs too. To my surprise, only Kennedy and Liam are at the kitchen table, eating sugary cereal and nursing a cup of coffee each. "Morning," I say, grabbing a mug from a cupboard. "Are Bonnie and Erin still on a run?"

"Yeah," Liam says.

I nod and make a cup of green tea and a bowl of porridge. I'm not much of a runner either, but I should exercise more on this trip, especially since the last time I exercised was when we played beach soccer a few days ago.

"Bonnie told me they're taking a long route by the beach today, so I don't think they'll be back for a while," Liam says, shooting Kennedy a sympathetic look.

I wonder what's up with that, but before I can ask, I catch sight of Kennedy's face up close as I take a seat at the kitchen table. She's wearing a frown, with dark circles and her skin more pale than usual. "Hey, are you okay? You look sick."

"Thanks." Her voice is dry. "That's what every girl wants to hear."

"Kennedy," Liam warns. He turns to me. "She got her period last night."

I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. "Oh."

Liam studies my reaction, and I feel myself flush again. I must look clueless.

"It's a week early," Kennedy grumbles. "My period is never irregular, so I don't know why. Maybe I'm secretly stressed, and I didn't even feel it." She looks at me. "You don't want to hear about this."

I shake my head. Clear my throat. "No, that's okay. Do you need… something?" I know the basics of the menstrual cycle — everyone had to take health class in high school, though I didn't pay much attention — but what the heck are you supposed to do when your girlfriend gets her period? I rack my brain, trying to think of something helpful to say. "Do you need painkillers?"

"You've already taken ibuprofen, haven't you?" Liam asks.

Kennedy nods. "I borrowed some from Bonnie this morning, but it takes a while to kick in. And she only had a couple left, anyway."

"We should have some more here," Liam says. "And maybe there's a hot water bottle here. I'll look."

"I could call Erin," I say, pulling out my phone from my pocket. "She might know."

Liam nods at me as he pushes himself up from the table, checking the cupboards around the kitchen before disappearing into the laundry and storage cupboards in the hallway and living room.

I dial Erin's number, and she picks up in the first couple of rings. "Hi Curtis," she says, puffing.

"Erin, do we have painkillers or a hot water bottle in the house?" I speak quickly for her sake. Talking while running is tiring.

"No, we don't. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just Kennedy's on her period."

Erin clicks her tongue. "That sucks. We could always go to the supermarket… though Bon and I won't be back for another thirty minutes at least…"

I glance at Kennedy, who's gripping her spoon tightly. "I have my driver's licence," I say. "I could take your car."

At that moment, Kennedy wails out, "I'm in painnnnnn."

Erin hesitates, and if I were here, I'd hesitate, too. The timing of Kennedy's wail is a little too convenient. "You won't crash my car?"

"I won't crash your car," I say.

"Okay. The keys are in my purse, in the master bedroom."

I thank her and hang up.

Liam enters the kitchen. "I can't find a hot water bottle anywhere."

"There isn't one here," I say, before telling them my plan to go to the supermarket. When they don't respond for a moment, I'm worried I've done something wrong.

Then Liam's lips spread into a smile. "Damn, Curtis. Good idea."

"I can't believe Erin let you borrow her car," Kennedy says. "But then again, she would understand how much this sucks." She shoves a spoonful of cereal into her mouth, wincing.

"The first day cramps are always the worst," Liam explains to me, before walking over and kneeling beside Kennedy, rubbing a hand up and down her back. "Is there anything else you want? Oh, I know — the usual food?"

She manages a smile. "That'd be excellent. But I don't want to be a pest."

"You've dealt with me being a pest for the past eighteen years. This is the least I can do."

"I'll grab my things," I say, scoffing down the rest of my porridge and leaping up the stairs to grab a warm jacket — I don't need my wallet, since everyone pays with their phones now — and once downstairs, I dash into the master bedroom to grab the keys. I find them, but before I leave the room, I pause and look at the large bed.

Okay, stop it, Curtis. This is not the time to be thinking about having sex with Kennedy. I turn away, but that dream from this morning flashes before my eyes.

Don't get distracted.

I find Liam and Kennedy in the living room, Kennedy laying on the couch, while Liam arranges a thick grey blanket over her.

"I'm ready," Liam says when he straightens up, gesturing to his shoes.

"You're coming too?" I ask.

"I know Kennedy's favourite food."

"I do too," I say, but that's a lie. I'm pretty sure Kennedy likes vegan ice cream and… vegan chocolate?

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Liam asks.

She waves a hand. "No, I'd be better off alone. Besides, I trust you to get everything I need."

"That's sorted then," Liam says, clapping his hands.

We say bye to Kennedy and leave the house, walking to the car parked in the driveway. Before I get into the driver's seat, I flip the P plates on Erin's car, so the red side is showing instead. When you first get your provisional licence, you have your red plates for a year before changing to green, like Erin has, until you get your full license. I sit down and turn on the car, and beside me, Liam stretches his legs out before him, adjusting the seat so he has more leg space.

"So apart from the hot water bottle and drugs, what else does Kennedy need?" I ask once we're on the road.

"A tub of vanilla ice cream and a packet of liquorice. And we'll get dark chocolate for good measure." Liam's eyes slide to mine. "Don't worry, Kennedy won't get diabetes. I'm planning to eat at least half of it."

"I wasn't worrying," I say.

I turn right and pull into the large parking lot in front of Woolies. A teenager pushes a line of trolleys across the bitumen. When we enter the supermarket, the air-conditioning causes goosebumps to rise on my skin. I pick up a shopping basket at the entrance because Liam's going to be finding everything, and I want to look helpful.

Liam leads the way, taking us through the aisles and throwing in the junk food. When Liam puts the ice cream into the basket, his arm touches mine, and we both say "sorry", and I rub the arm where a shot of electricity runs through.

"Does Kennedy need sanitary products?" I ask, in an attempt to be useful, as we walk to the self-serve machines.

"No, she uses a period cup. It's better for the environment and all."

I don't know what a period cup is. "Oh. Okay,"

Liam must sense something because he laughs awkwardly. "It's weird that I know that, right?"

I shake my head. "You've been her best friends since birth. I knew you know each other well…" Only now, though, do I feel like I'm seeing the extent of it. "I feel like I should know this stuff, too. Before this morning, I didn't even know what kind of ice cream she liked."

We arrive at a self-serve checkout machine and start scanning the items.

"Well, you've only been together for… what? Three months?"

"Three months is a lot." At least, it's a lot for high-schoolers. It's a lot for me.

I shake my head. I need to stop having these spiralling thoughts and pay attention to the task at hand. I stare at the items piling up on the side of the machine where the bag is meant to go. "Damn it, we forgot to bring a bag," I say. Like most supermarkets in Australia, this one doesn't provide free plastic bags and so people bring their own or purchase reusable ones. I don't want to purchase a reusable one, though, because I know we have a lot back at the beach house.

"It's okay, we can carry them," says Liam.

He presses the button to pay but I lean over him, pressing my phone against the card reader before Liam can protest. A moment later, the machine spits out the receipt.

"Paying is like an Olympic sport for you, isn't it?" Liam says.

I grab the receipt and gather the items. "Come on."

Once we've picked up everything, we leave the supermarket. "You're a good boyfriend," Liam says.

I almost trip. "It was nothing." I wave the hand that has my receipt between my fingers.

"I'm not saying this because of that," Liam says. "In the supermarket, you sounded as if you thought you were inadequate and I don't think you are."

"Thanks," I say. Before I continue, I hesitate, because I always overthink about what I say. I never want to say the wrong thing. But then I think about Liam bringing me a cup of tea last night. And lending me his pimple cream. And when I ribbed him about his fanfiction and it was like we weren't enemies.

"You're a good friend to Kennedy. A really good friend," I say.

Liam's head jerks up in surprise and doesn't respond until I look at him. His smile is small. "Thank you."

I let out a subtle sigh of relief. That went well. And not only that, a part of me feels warm because I made Liam smile like that.

We cross the carpark with its dark-grey bitumen and get into the car. "I still haven't gotten my license," Liam says as I pull out of the carpark.

"Neither does Kennedy," I say. In Victoria, once you're eighteen you can get your provisional license, which means you can drive without a supervisor, but first, you need to meet all the requirements and pass the tests.

"Kennedy's closer to getting it than me," Liam says. "Besides, she has you. I wish I was dating someone with a driver's license."

"That shouldn't be too hard for you." It slips out.

"What does that mean?" he says it like I've insulted him.

"Nothing. Never mind."

Still looking suspicious, he turns away to look at the small businesses through the window on his side. We're silent for a moment, and I stop in front of a zebra crossing to let a family cross.

"You're annoyingly perfect," Liam murmurs.

What the hell? I look at him, but he's facing the window, his chin resting on his palm. For a moment, I think I've misheard him.

"What?" I ask.

Behind me, a car beeps and I realise the zebra crossing is clear. I drive on.

"You know what I mean," he says, still looking out the window. "You do everything you're supposed to do. The responsible thing. The proper thing. You just do everything right."

"Is this about getting my driver's license?" I ask.

"No. Yes. It's not only the driver's license." He sighs. "It's hard to explain, but if you asked, say my parents, who would be a perfect son, they'd say someone like you. Or, if you asked the cousins, they'd say you're a perfect boyfriend."

"Liam…"

He turns over and glances at me. "You know what, just forget everything I said. That was stupid. It's just that… it's easier to hate someone who is almost perfect. And I know I was a dickhead to you, and yeah I explained why, but you being you didn't make it any easier."

I open my mouth, but I can't think of anything to say.

"And yeah, I was also a dickhead yesterday when I capsized the boat. I don't know if I already apologised for that. But, um… I am sorry." Liam laughs mirthlessly. "Yeah, let's just drop the topic."

"The cousins love you," I say after a minute.

This time it's Liam's turn to look at me. "What?"

"Never mind," I say. Why do I ever open my mouth? I always end up saying nonsense.

We settle into silence, but I can't help thinking about the cousins. Even if the cousins say I'm the perfect boyfriend for Kennedy — which I disagree with — they love Liam. I don't think it's just their history either — Liam has a magnetism about him. It reminds me of our classes together at school. The teachers would always tell Liam to be quiet, but in the end, it was his contributions to class that had them twitching their lips to hide their smiles.

I used to wish I could be bold like him. To say what I thought when I felt like it. To be unabashedly myself.

I still wish that.