The Boyfriend Rivalry by Milana Spencer

22

Liam: King Bed

I reach out and pull him close, and press my lips against his. It's different from the beer-flavoured kisses I've had at house parties where the both of us were tipsy, the guys from other schools in Easton, the unsaid promise we'd never talk again.

The tension simmering inside me releases, filling my stomach with warmth. Curtis's body softens as he leans over me, mouth opening, and he moans into my mouth. The sound shoots sweet arousal through my body. I twist my hand in his shirt, pulling him closer, and he holds himself over me, one hand on either side of my head. We kiss, open-mouthed, and he tastes like mint toothpaste. His skin is so warm, and those quiet whimpering sounds he makes when I kiss him hard —

And then I realise. And just as quickly as I pulled him close, I push him away.

He lands on his side of the bed with a dazed thump, blinking rapidly while I pull myself up into a sitting position.

"Fuck," I curse, my heart rattling in my chest. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I did that."

I do know why. Because I've been crushing on Curtis for days now, which doesn't seem like a long time, but it feels like a century when I'm with him every day, when I see him almost every waking hour. I gather the courage to glance at him. He's pulled himself up into a sitting position like me, touching two fingers to his mouth. His lips are a deeper pink than usual, his cheeks a little flushed, his hair rumpled.

I wonder what kind of mess I look like. I'm glad I have the blanket pulled over my waist.

Curtis, sensing my eyes on him, looks at me. He drops his hand. "It's not your fault."

I look at him incredulously. "Not my fault?"

"Not only your fault," Curtis says, throwing my words from minutes before back in my face. "I kissed you too." He leans his head back against the headboard, his face tipped to the ceiling, and closes his eyes.

I know without asking him he's thinking of the same thing as me: Kennedy. My best friend. His ex-girlfriend. They broke up two days ago.

I imagine the hurt in her eyes when she finds out what we just did. She's going to hate me, and she'd be right to. I can't believe I did that.

I glance at Curtis, and feeling my eyes on him, he looks at me. I notice the front of his shirt is wrinkled, and the sight makes me flush with shame.

"I should go," Curtis says.

Disappointment fills me, even though I know it's the right thing. "Okay," I say, voice hoarse.

He hesitates. "Should I go?"

I look at him. I must look as uncertain as he does.

I remember his words. I kissed you too. And he did. He leaned over me and kissed me hard like I fantasised about.

"I don't know," I whisper.

"I… don't want to be alone," he says.

"I think it's okay, if you stay here," I answer. "If we don't touch each other. If you stay here as a friend."

I'm not sure how true the words are, but Curtis nods, and relief fills me. After a couple of minutes, I turn on the lamp on the closest bedside table, get out of bed and turn off the main light, and return to the bed, the room illuminated with faint orange light.

Curtis and I slide back down into the bed, so we're lying down again, facing each other.

"Are you tired?" Curtis asks.

I shake my head. "No." So much adrenaline is rushing through me I think I could run a race.

We're silent as we search each other's faces. I pick out details of Curtis I want to keep in my mind, in case I never see him like this again. The way his blonde hair falls across his head. Those blue eyes which are light around the edges and dark near the pupil. The curve of his lip.

"At least you now know who my secret crush is," I whisper. My voice is light, trying to lighten the mood, but Curtis just shakes his head, a little amused look on his lips.

"And you know mine," Curtis answers.

I feel like an idiot, because that surprises me, even with everything that happened. For a gleeful moment, I feel elated that he feels the same way — until I remember reality.

"This is a shitty situation, isn't it?" he says, reading my expression.

"It'd be so much easier if I didn't like you."

"It'd be so much easier if I didn't like you," Curtis counters.

"It's weird, isn't it? How we went from hating each other to… this."

Curtis's laugh is soft and breathy. "I think I always noticed you. Before we became friends. Before Kennedy."

My brow furrows.

He nods. "Sure, you annoyed me at school, and yet… I don't know."

"You annoyed me," I say. "Even before Kennedy. I thought you were irritatingly perfect. I was jealous of you."

Curtis's eyes widen, and I'm surprised at his surprise.

"It didn't help that you're so hot, no matter how many times I tried to convince myself otherwise."

His eyes crinkle with amusement, then another, stranger, emotion. "Deep down, I always knew you were gorgeous," he says.

I stare at him. We look at each other for far too long, so I reach back and turn the lamp off. We shift in the darkness, and even though I can't see anything, my eyes and ears and focused on him.

I wish I could stay in this small moment forever, this moment I know is impossible to have again.

*

I wake up to the sound of birds twittering outside. Kookaburras sing their harsh yet rhythmic song and seagulls shriek. My eyes slit open, and strong sunlight peeks through the cracks of the curtains, turning the darkness of the room a yellowy-grey.

I'm warm. Warmer than usual. Then I notice the strong arms wrapped around me, and the soft breath tickling the back of my neck.

I'm not gentle or subtle about it. Instead, I jerk around and almost smash my face into his. In a rush, I remember everything that happened last night. Curtis, feeling my disruptive movements, opens his eyes. He sees me, and then he sees he was sleeping right against me, fitting me like a jigsaw piece. We both look at his pants at the same time and he pushes himself away, skin turning pink.

Once again, I thank the blanket for hiding the remnants of my arousal from when I was sleeping.

For a long moment, we remain still in bed, frozen like statues.

Then:

"What's the time?" Curtis asks, voice raw and sexy from sleep.

Don't notice that Liam.

"Um," I answer, reaching for my phone on the bedside table. "It's ten," I read.

We look at each other.

"The girls are coming back at twelve," Curtis says.

We pull ourselves into a sitting position, but instead of sitting beside each other at the head of the bed, we sit across from each other.

"Shit. This is my fault," Curtis says, looking around the room, running a hand over his face. "I was the one that came here."

"I was the one that started it. I kissed you."

Curtis shakes his head. "I wanted it."

"I told you to stay," I say, then drop my head and cover my eyes with my hands. "What are we going to do?"

I look back up at Curtis, and his face is a mix of emotions I can't read. He opens his mouth, sighs, and is about to speak —

My phone rings. I flinch before picking it up and reading the screen.

"It's… it's Kennedy," I say, showing Curtis.

His throat bobs with a swallow.

I answer the phone.

"Hey, Liam," Kennedy says. Her voice isn't peppy due to fatigue, but there's lightness in her voice. "How's it going?"

"Good," I say, my voice rough, and I clear my throat. "Good. I just woke up."

"Late night?" Kennedy asks.

"Yeah," I say. "I went on my phone for too long last night." And I also spent a ridiculous amount of timing staring at your ex-boyfriend. And also I kissed him.

"Sounds like you. Anyway, just letting you know that we're on track to arrive there at lunchtime."

"I hope you didn't burn the house down," says Bonnie, her voice faint.

I muster up a false chuckle. "Of course we didn't," I say, getting off the bed and pacing around the room.

"No disasters?" Kennedy asks.

I arrive at the ensuite door and push it open. In front of me is a mirror, forcing me to look at my dishevelled state. "No," I answer, watching my expression as I lie.

"Well, seeing the family was a disaster. Erin, Bon and I will give you the whole recap when we return. Although, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was. A nice break from… the beach." Kennedy's voice changes. "Anyway, I'll let you go now."

"Yep," I say. "Wait."

"Hmm?"

I glance over at Curtis, sitting on the bed and looking at his hands, politely pretending he's not eavesdropping. I enter the bathroom and let the door half close behind me.

"Liam? You there?"

"Yeah," I say, taking a deep breath.

"What is it?"

Kennedy and I have fought a lot in our eighteen years of being friends, and while some things have come close, there's nothing as awful as this. She's my best friend, and I don't want to lose her. "Actually, it's nothing. I'll tell you when you return," I say. I'm such a coward.

Kennedy doesn't respond for a second because she knows me too well to read my voice and know it isn't "nothing". Yet in the end, she lets it go. "Okay. See you soon."

After I hang up, I wash my face with cold water and rinse my mouth, which still tastes cottony from sleep. When I return to the bedroom, Curtis has made the bed, and it's neater than I would have done it. The sight has washed away the evidence of us.

"Did you say anything?" Curtis asks.

I shake my head. "No. Not over the phone."

Curtis nods in agreement.

I shift my weight. "I don't know if I can."

He stiffens.

"I don't want to lose her," I continue.

He takes a few seconds to respond. He doesn't bridge the space between us — in fact, he looks as closed off from me as he did at the beginning of these holidays.

"You have to," he says.

I drop my head so I don't have to look at his face, see the disappointment.

"What would be the alternative?" he says. "Pretend this never happened?"

I don't want that, of course, I don't. "I know I should tell her," I say.

"You need to tell her," Curtis corrects. "We need to."

I know, I know, I know. And yet the prospect makes ice run in my veins. I raise my head to look at Curtis. His expression is a mix of sadness and empathy and pain. As if I've hurt him.

It seems like an eternity passes between us. In reality, it's a few minutes.

"I'm going to go upstairs and get ready," he tells me. "You should do the same. We should tidy the house a little before they arrive."

I nod, but he doesn't see it. He's already turned away, leaving me in the room alone.

*

"We're back," Bonnie sing-songs when she enters through the front door. For the past fifteen minutes, Curtis and I have sat at the kitchen table with stick-straight backs, avoiding eye contact. When we heard the car pull into the driveway, we jumped up to greet them in the hallway.

Behind Bonnie is Erin with her car keys around one finger, and Kennedy lugging the suitcase. Her gentle smile doesn't fade when she looks at Curtis. They're polite to each other, though not as friendly as usual.

"The house smells nice," Erin comments, taking off her shoes.

"That's all Curtis," I say. "He found some air freshener while we were cleaning. Doesn't this place smell even more like the beach?" I'm speaking faster than usual.

"You cleaned?" Kennedy asks.

I nod at Curtis. "His idea."

"That sounds like Curtis," Bonnie laughs. "He's the responsible one."

I also laugh, though I have to clasp my hands together to stop them from twitching. Curtis is the responsible one. The one who does the right thing. The mature one.

And who am I? The one who doesn't think. The coward.

Everyone heads back into the kitchen. Kennedy leaves the suitcase by the door, and the girls look through the fridge and pantry for food.

I look at Kennedy. She looks a little tired, a few wisps of hair framing her face, but there's a calmness to her. She catches me looking and raises a brow before turning to Bonnie and Erin and asking if they want a snack or a meal.

Seeing Kennedy in person makes everything harder. I look over at Curtis, and he glances at me before looking away. It makes me feel like shit.

Bonnie looks into the fridge and whistles, pulling out our leftover pasta from the night before last. "Wow, you've left this house in better than perfect condition."

"It's weird," Kennedy says with a smile, looking over at me. "Almost suspicious. You guys didn't get up to any trouble, did you?"

I almost choke. "Nope," I say. "Not at all."