“Oh my God, that’s better,” he said as we entered the cool sanctuary of my room. He plucked at his shirt. “It’s like existing in a wet towel.”
“I think I’m getting used to it.” Truthfully, it didn’t bother me as much as I would have expected.
“So how is it, living here with Riley?” Bill asked, sitting on my bed.
I shrugged. “It’s fine.” Digging through my suitcase, I found a cuter top than the shirt I had slept in. “Close your eyes,” I told him.
He obeyed, but he said, “I’ve seen you naked.”
“I know. But it’s different now. We’re just friends, we’re not going there anymore.”
“I can handle seeing you in your bra.”
Why did that sound vaguely insulting? “You’re the one who wanted us to be just friends. I’m trying to respect that.” What the hell was with guys? No matter what I did, they wanted something different.
“But you don’t have to act like I can’t control myself.”
Oh, for the love of God. “Fine. Open your eyes. I don’t give a shit.” Idiot. I pulled my knit shorts down so that I could put on denim shorts instead and rooted around in my suitcase in my bra and panties. It was like wearing a bathing suit, and he was right, he had seen me naked. I didn’t feel like discussing it any further.
Why were women always being accused of being the ones who wanted to overcomplicate things? To talk them to death? Both Riley and Bill were driving me insane with their determination to define what we were doing.
And a glance over at the bed showed that Bill wasn’t exactly unaffected, despite his bragging claims. He was staring at my ass.
“So why are you hanging blinds, or attempting to talk me into hanging blinds, in Riley’s house?”
I shrugged. “Because he needs help cleaning up before the social worker pays a home visit.” I didn’t want to go too deep into the real situation. It was Riley’s business, and I didn’t know how much he would want known.
“How do you feel about Riley?”
I paused, my T-shirt over my head, ready to be pulled on. I eyed Bill, suddenly feeling suspicious. “What do you mean?”
Bill leaned back on his elbows on my bed, shrugging. “It just seems to me like maybe he is the kind of guy who can get you to open up a little.”
“I opened up plenty for you,” I told him coldly. What was he getting at? I didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking.
“That’s not what I mean. You never tell me anything about yourself. I don’t know you at all, Jessica, not really.”
“I’m not a deep, dark secret.”
“Can I ask you something without you assaulting me?”
“Well, that’s promising.” Nerves jangling, I pulled my shirt on and down over my chest. “Sure, why not? I’ve been insulted on a regular basis lately, why not keep the trend going?”
“I’m serious, and this is as a friend. Why do you push guys away?”
“I don’t push guys away. That’s the real problem, according to some people,” I said wryly.
He gave me a long look. “Okay, fine. You don’t want to talk about it with me. That’s cool.”
“Talk about what?” I asked, totally exasperated.
“You like Riley, don’t you? I’ve always thought you did.”
That caught me off guard, and I felt my cheeks heat. “No, I haven’t always liked Riley. After this week, I am more comfortable around him, but there’s nothing there, trust me. He thinks I’m a slut.” Just saying it out loud made me bitter all over again, and I could hear the wobble in my voice.
“Come here.” Bill patted the bed next to him.
I obeyed, my shorts in my hand.
“You’re not a slut,” he told me as I sat down.
“I know.” I leaned my head on his shoulder, wanting the comfort he was offering. “But why do I feel so bad?”
“Because having feelings for someone is a pretty miserable experience, that’s why.” He brought his arm around my back and hugged me to his side.
I laughed. “Apparently.”
“I think a lot of guys, myself included, are more comfortable taking our clothes off with a girl than showing her how we really feel. Sex is easier than emotion.”
Sex is easier than emotion. That was scary accurate.
I fumbled to drag my shorts on up over my ankles, my calves, my knees, my thighs, up, up, to cover myself. It suddenly felt wrong to be talking about this with Bill in my underwear.
Because he was right.
I could take my clothes off with any guy I was attracted to. Yet I showed no one who I really was.
How ironic that naked was more covered than conversation.
The knock on my door had me jumping. “Oh, shit,” I muttered, knowing being in my room with Bill wasn’t going to sit well with Riley. Fumbling to zip my shorts, my fingers trembling, I was still trying to process what Bill had said. What it meant to me.
“Jess?”
“Yeah?” I called out.
But Riley was already opening the door. “Hey, the photos look really good—”
His words cut off when he stuck his head in and assessed the situation.
My fingers were still on the snap of my shorts, having finally gotten the zipper up. I tried to tug at my shirt, like that’s what I had been doing all along, but Riley wasn’t buying it. He looked at Bill, the rumpled bed we were sitting on, my hand, and no doubt my guilty expression, and exploded.
“
“We’re going to the movies, that’s all,” I told him. “Calm down.”
“Dude, she’s telling the truth. We are just friends.” Bill held his hands out in a conciliatory fashion.
Riley looked like he wanted to kick the door. In fact, his foot actually lifted, like he was contemplating it. Not wanting any more damage to the house, I jumped off the bed and rushed over to him. “Riley, stop!”
He paused and ran his fingers through his hair in clear frustration. “What the fuck is going on? For real? Last night you told me there’s no you and me, but is this what you really want? Me to leave you the fuck alone so you can do whatever?”
The anger, no, the pain in his voice left me speechless.
Bill filled the awkward silence I left dangling.
“I’m just going to take off. Jess, I’ll catch you later.”
Normally I would have protested, said he didn’t have to leave, that no one was going to chase off a friend of mine. I would have taken a stand, been defiant.
But I couldn’t. Because Bill was my friend, but so was Riley.
No matter what he said about friendship being shady between guys and girls, we were friends, because that’s what you called someone you cared about, right?
I cared about him.
“Thanks, Bill. Talk to you later.”
Bill moved through the door. Riley didn’t step out of his way, but instead glared at him. To Bill’s credit, he didn’t react at all, and he didn’t flinch or shift out of the way. He just waved at me over his shoulder and barreled through.
“He didn’t do anything wrong,” I said to Riley, afraid he would take it upon himself to punch Bill at some point. “You don’t have to look at him like that.”
Riley just shrugged. “I can look at Nerd Boy any way I want. It’s my house.”
Hopefully, Bill was far enough across the living room that he didn’t hear the rude slur. I wanted to tell Riley he was being a dick, but that would just take the conversation off topic. “Last night I was upset because I don’t understand what it is you want from me,” I told him. “First you want sex, then you want a relationship, then you
