The Boyfriend Rivalry by Milana Spencer

28

Liam: Tomorrow

Despite my attempts to dissuade my parents from having the Harding family over for dinner, they spontaneously invited them tonight.

I returned from school hours ago, ready to enjoy my weekend when I found Dad in the kitchen frantically marinating a chicken. Since then, I've changed out of my uniform into sweatpants and a sort-of-nice t-shirt and have spent every fifteen minutes since then checking the time. The Hardings arriving at 6:00 and that's when I'll know whether Kennedy's coming too.

My phone beeps with a message.

Curtis: I've never been a fan of racing games.

I put my nervous energy on hold as I reply.

Liam: You're just making excuses for getting your ass handed to you by your siblings.

Curtis: You don't know they're winning.

Liam: I just know.

Curtis is having a Mario Kart tournament with his siblings, which sounds much more fun than what my evening has in store. I haven't told him about the Hardings coming over, because I don't want to sound dramatic when Kennedy might not even come.

I'm folding my laundry when Mum calls me downstairs, and I check the time. A quarter to 6:00. Downstairs, I set the table while Mum and Dad contemplate what wine they should drink.

At 6:00, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it," Mum says, hurrying to the door. I follow behind her and when she opens the door, I see Mr and Mrs Harding over her shoulder.

And behind them is Kennedy. She's wearing fancier clothes than I am — jeans and a turtleneck jumper — and her lips are pulled up in a polite smile. The five of us exchange hellos and how are yous and I'm well thank yous before Mum leads us into the dining room. The Hardings say hello to Dad and Mr and Mrs Harding enter the kitchen, asking if my parents need any help while my parents wave them off and tell them to sit down.

Which leaves Kennedy and me at the dining table.

"Hi," I say.

"Hi," Kennedy replies.

We sit down at our usual seats and soon the adults join us, and we nibble on the entrée dishes. First, we talk about Lonsdale Bay and it's easy to retell all the highlights of the trip. Everyone chuckles when I recount how Curtis and I capsized while sailing — even Kennedy. It's confusing because usually I can tell when she's faking but she seems genuinely happy.

Dinner is served and as always, the adults begin their own conversation about adulty things that sound boring as hell.

Kennedy and I glance at each other.

"I got your gift," she says as she slices through her roasted vegetables with a knife.

"Gift?" I echo.

"The cup from Etsy," she explains. "The misogyny speech cup."

I swallow a piece of chicken. "Oh, right, yeah. That was ages ago."

"It only arrived on Wednesday." She pauses. "I'd ask you if you were trying to buy my forgiveness, but I know you're too smart for that."

An involuntary laugh escapes my mouth.

"What?" she asks.

I wave a hand. "I knew you'd say that. But it was too good not to buy. You like it, right?"

"Of course. I will not be lectured about sexism and misogyny by this man. Not now, not ever," she quotes, gesturing her hand as if she's delivering a speech in parliament.

She breaks into a smile, and I laugh, and it's like old times. Then we catch ourselves and return our gazes to our plate.

"Thank you," she says quietly.

"It was nothing."

We eat, and I for one am quite hungry, so I finish the meal first on the table. By then, Kennedy's eating has slowed down, and she picks at her food.

I ask her about school and we chat about how the upcoming English assessment on Hippolytus shouldn't be too bad. We start gossiping and Kennedy mentions the new kid, Kieran Phillips. "I heard that he got into a fight on the first day," she says.

"As in, his first day at Grammar? All the way at the start of this term?" I ask. "No way. We would have heard."

"That's what I overheard in Politics. Apparently, something happened in the boys' toilets and that Kieran Phillips threw punches."

"No one in our year level has bruises, though," I say, thinking back. "And besides, if there was a fight, everyone would know about it." Our school is the kind where there are very few physical altercations. I think the last time anyone in my year level fought was in Year 9 when one boy punched another.

"I don't know, but that's what I heard Hudson Blythe and Aiden Pate and that saying. Don't tell anyone though. I think it's supposed to be a secret."

"You told me though."

"Of course I did," Kennedy says as if it's obvious.

Warmth floods through me, and I smile. "I'm flattered. And I won't."

Once Kennedy finishes with her meal, we take our plates to the kitchen and go up to my room. We sit cross-legged on my bed, the way we have for years.

I smooth out my bedding, and in our silence, we can the laughter and voices of our parents. I think my parents are wine-drunk because they don't need to drive home tonight.

"Um, so," I say. "Is everything… okay… between us?"

She nods. "Yeah. It is."

I narrow my eyes at her to make sure she's not lying and she lets out a little laugh.

"You look ridiculous like that."

"You're sure about… everything?" I ask.

"Why does everyone ask me if I'm sure? I am." She places her hands behind her so she can lean back on them. "I was upset at the beginning. But after a while, I realised how much I missed talking to you, Liam. And I don't want to lose our friendship. I never intended on throwing it away."

"But I did something horrible…"

Kennedy smiles and raises a brow. "Are you trying to get me to justify your behaviour?"

"No!" I say. "No, I'm just saying… it's understandable if you didn't want to be my friend anymore."

"Maybe I wouldn't if it wasn't one kiss. Or it was while I was still dating him. Or if it was someone other than Curtis."

I cock my head at that last part.

"I realised," she says, "that what happened hurt my ego rather than my heart. I would be devastated if it was someone I loved, but Curtis… he isn't that great. No offence, I know you like him."

My laugh is half genuine, half nervous.

"I mean, he is great," Kennedy rushes to clarify. "But we broke up for a reason. So… I wasn't upset as expected with everything that happened. I was more offended that he'd like someone more than me, and that he'd kiss them so quickly after me."

I scratch the back of my neck. I'm thankful to have this conversation, but god, it's painful.

"But, Liam?"

I raise my eyes to meet her.

"It's all over, now. I'm fine with it."

"Okay," I say. Kennedy looks unconvinced, so I repeat the word with more confidence. "Okay."

"I'm saying that I would be fine if you dated Curtis," she says.

I blink at her, and even though I heard her, it's as if the words don't compute in my brain. "What?"

But she knows I heard her, so instead of repeating herself, she moves across the bed and hugs me.

I'm frozen as her arms come around me, but my mind flashbacks to all the hugs we've shared over the years. I've been friends with this girl for eighteen years. I can't believe I almost threw it away, and I can't believe she's forgiven me.

And I think about what she said. I would abandon Curtis for her if she asked. It's a choice I would never want to make and it would be goddamn difficult to do, but I'd do it because I love her. But Kennedy loves me just as much, and as a result, she'll let me have Curtis.

My body unfreezes and I hug her in return.

"You can date him," she says. "This isn't me giving you permission because you could have done it, anyway. Which you didn't, because you're a decent person. It's me… how do I say it?"

"Giving me your blessing?" I say, letting out a choked laugh. "That sounds like we're living in the 1800s. Or like we're talking about marriage."

Kennedy laughs. "It does, doesn't it? But that's what I mean. If you date Curtis, I'll be happy for you. Because I want you to be happy."

I unwrap my arms around her and lean back so I can look at her. "I don't deserve you," I say.

She rolls her eyes at that.

"Let's play a card game," I say. "I'm feeling emotional and need a distraction."

"Sure," she replies, pushing herself off the bed and walking to my bookshelf, where she grabs a packet of cards amongst a pile of board games and Uno cards. Back on the bed, she splits them in half.

We play snap, and I lose because I'm so distracted. For the rest of the night, we play various card games until Kennedy's parents call her down at 9:30.

We both get off the bed and before we leave the bedroom, she turns to me. "Are you going to talk to him?" she asks.

"Yeah." I take a deep breath. "I will."

"You could tell him tonight. Curtis doesn't live far from you."

I blink at her. "What are you saying?"

Kennedy tells me, and afterwards, I grab a jacket that I had lying on my floor. "This feels like something that would happen in a romance movie."

"Exactly," Kennedy says, grinning as she watches me put the jacket out.

"But you hate movies," I say, turning off my bedroom lights.

We walk downstairs together. "I can still appreciate the good moments," she says.

*

I watch the Harding family's car drive away, with Kennedy waving and smiling encouragingly from the back seat. When we went downstairs, she asked her dad, the sober designated driver, if he could drop me off at Curtis's. Kennedy said it was an emergency, and I promised my parents I'd be back soon, and I think the wine put them in a good mood because they didn't protest.

Five minutes later, and I'm here. It's drizzling, and I hope it doesn't turn into a full-out pour. Kennedy's dad asked me if I needed them to wait, but I said it was okay. Curtis should be able to drive me home if I need it. Otherwise, I can walk.

In the dark. In the rain.

I turn around and face the house. The last time I was here was when we picked up Curtis for the holiday. He was waiting by the front door and I remember I attempted to be nice on the drive down. I was annoyed at the time, but now those memories are amusing. My heart aches for the fun we had by the beach.

The lights in the house are on, hints of light peeking around blinds. I wonder what's happening inside. Is Curtis still playing Mario Kart? What will he think when he sees me at the front door? Is this a stupid idea?

I take a breath and walk through the front garden and up to the front door. I press the doorbell.

Less than thirty seconds later, the door opens and Curtis stands in the doorway. He's wearing sweatpants like me, but he's barefoot. The lightbulb behind his head makes him look as if he's wearing a golden halo.

I sigh in relief. "Lucky. If your parents opened the door, this would have been awkward."

After a beat, he breaks into a grin. "Actually, Harriet was about to open the door but I saw you in the window and shooed her away."

"I should have texted that I was coming, but, um…"

When I don't respond, Curtis takes a step back, holding the door open. "Do you want to come inside?"

"Uh… okay. I won't be here for long." I step inside the long hallway, scraping my shoes on the doormat, and Curtis closes the door beside me. The excited voices of Curtis's siblings drift from a nearby room.

"So," Curtis says.

"It was Kennedy's idea," I say.

His smile begins to fade, but I reach out, then stop myself before I touch him. I'm still not sure how he's going to respond when I tell him.

"Not in the way you think," I explain. "Or at least, not in a bad way." I recount everything that happened. "And then I came here," I finish. "To tell you. And, I guess, to ask… er…" I fiddle with my hands.

"Out with it," Curtis teases, but he's fiddling his hands too.

"Stop looking at me like that. You're making me nervous."

"I'm sorry." He tries to suppress his smile.

"We never talked about it," I say. "About what could happen if… if Kennedy was okay with it. But, um. You already know I like y — oh god, stop it," I say because Curtis has given up trying to look serious and a huge smile has taken over his face.

"I can't help it," he says. "Please, continue."

I rub the back of my neck. "I'm nervous." I'm sure Curtis feels the same way about me as I do about him. But what if, for some reason, he still says no? "You can read between the lines and figure out what I'm going to say anyway, so maybe you should go first —"

I comprehend every action a second late. Curtis stepping forward. His hand reaching up and touching my neck, and then the soft press of his lips against mine. I open my mouth, partly in surprise, and partly because a rush of desire passes through me.

Seconds later, he disappears. When I open my eyes — I didn't realise I closed them — I see him fall back onto his heels.

I say the first thing I can think of. "Do you have to go on your tippy-toes to kiss me?"

"Not my tippy-toes," he says, and I'm distracted by the way his lips are still parted.

"I saw you."

"I have to lean upwards a little. It's your fault for being so tall."

My lip curls. "You like it."

His eyes over me shamelessly and I shiver under his gaze. "Yes. I do."

"Curtis!" a voice shouts from the end of the hallway and both of us jump and look to see a boy's head poking around a doorway. "Hurry up." The boy peers at me before disappearing.

I turn back to Curtis and realise we're still standing close to each other, but neither of us jumped apart. We share a gaze.

"Drive me back to my house?"

He's confused for a second before he nods. "Give me a second," he says. He unhooks a pair of car keys from a hook on the wall and heads down the hallway to murmur something to his siblings about telling their parents he's going out for a bit. They whine but agree, and soon Curtis is beside me at the front door.

We leave the house and he locks the door behind us before leading me to his car. He gets in the driver's seat and I get in the passenger seat and he then we're on the road.

"So," I say.

"So." He glances sideways at me before focusing on the road. "I already went. It's your turn."

I smile because I'm no longer worried about the possibility that he'll break my heart. I know he won't.

"Fine. I like you. And I don't know what the situation is with your sexuality and how open you are or want to be about it, but… I want to be with you."

"As boyfriends?" he asks.

The sound of that word fills my stomach with butterflies. "Ideally," I say. Then, because I can't control myself, I start blabbering. "I suppose we could be friends if we have to."

"Friends can't touch," he says.

"They can."

"They can't kiss."

"Well. I reckon I could stand it, just being friends with you."

He chuckles. "You kissed me first. Do you think you could control yourself?"

"You're right. I wouldn't." When Curtis doesn't respond immediately, I add, "Curtis, you're killing me here."

"Shit, sorry," he says, and he does sound regretful. "The answer is yes. Obviously. I want to be your boyfriend."

For the rest of the drive, I watch the rain slide down the glass of the car before being smeared away by the windscreen wipers. I stare at Curtis's profile, and he can't stop smiling either. I won't be able to sleep tonight.

When Curtis arrives on my street, he parks across the road from my house. Despite the darkness in the car, I can still make out his silhouette and enough of his features to see his soft smile and heated eyes.

"Kiss me," he says.

"Bossy," I say, but I'm already leaning over.

One of my hands blindly grabs the car door behind him and the other holds his shoulder. I lower my head and touch my lips to his, and soon our mouths are open, and he makes a small groaning sound that goes straight to my dick. Our kisses are messy, but in the darkness, we don't care, and when Curtis pushes me back into my seat so he can lean over me, get on top, I let him. I don't care that a seatbelt is digging into my back or that the car is cold because Curtis is there and his skin is so warm and his hands are gentle and his mouth is desperate and violent.

"I should go inside," I say the first time we stop to catch our breaths. Rain splatters against the windows, making it impossible to see outside.

"Okay," Curtis says.

And then I kiss him again. And then we catch our breaths. And then he kisses me again.

"My parents are going to worry about me," I say ten minutes later when he's pressing a line of kisses under my jaw.

"I know," he murmurs. "We should stop. We have all the time in the world to do this later."

"Like tomorrow. It's Saturday tomorrow."

"Let's kiss tomorrow," he agrees. He leans back and gets back into his seat. We stare at each other, breathing heavily.

After a minute, I reluctantly open the door and step outside. Raindrops assault me like bullets, but I'm distracted because Curtis's eyes slide over me, lingering at the front of my pants. He smirks.

I roll my eyes because I know he's affected just as much as I am.

"See you tomorrow," I say, about to close the door, then pause. "One last time." Now that I'm allowed this, I can't get enough.

Curtis considers it. He shakes his head, though he doesn't look happy about it. "Tomorrow."

"Fine," I say, frowning for a second before it changes to a smile. God, I'm going to be one of those people in a relationship who smile all the time. I'm going to be disgusting, and I can't wait. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight Liam," Curtis says.

I make myself close the door and cross the dark street.

Tomorrow.