As
he gulped down the water, I watched his Adam’s apple moving up and
down. I used the opportunity to glance over his sweaty body up close.
The top of his underwear was sticking out of his jeans. The smell of him
was intoxicating, a mix of cut wood, sweat and cologne. I thought about
our talk the other night, how he’d confessed his sexual history. As
much as it disturbed me, knowing he’d used that body to give a woman
pleasure made me weak with desire. I could only imagine what that would
feel like with him.
Elle would find out.
I was still looking down at his abs when he said, “Thank you.” My eyes immediately shot up to meet his incendiary stare.
He’d caught me checking him out.
“You’re welcome.”
His mouth curved into a smile as he handed me back the glass. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you much this week.”
“Yeah. I’ve been busy.”
“I have something for you,” he blurted out in a way that indicated he was anxiously waiting to say it.
“For me?”
“Yeah. Wait here, okay?”
Sevin ran over to where his truck was parked and grabbed something out of the open window.
He returned to where I was standing and handed me a CD.
“What is it?”
“If
you like the Smiths, you’ll like some of the songs on here. I included a
few Smiths songs—the ones from your favorite album, but there’s also
The Lemonheads, The Pixies…and Pulp.”
“You made this?”
“Yeah. I made it for myself and burned you a copy.”
“Thanks.”
He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Number ten is my favorite.” Then, he walked away.
I immediately took it back to my room and dusted off my old portable CD player.
Lying
down on my bed with the sun streaming in, I drowned out the world and
listened to every song. When it got to number ten, I paid special
attention, knowing he’d specifically called that one out.
The name of the song was Like a Friend.
I later found out it was by Pulp. With each lyric, my eyes became
heavier until they welled up in tears. The words described to a tee
exactly how I’d been feeling about him. The singer was shouting out all
his feelings about his friend, that she was everything he shouldn’t
want, everything that was bad for him, but yet he couldn’t stop wanting
her. He’d take what he could get even if that just meant being friends.
Every single line spoke to me. It was the first time I realized that
maybe I wasn’t alone in my torment. This situation—whatever was
happening between us—was taking a toll on him, too.
I
must have listened to the song five times before I went over to the
window and looked down at him. At one point, he finally looked up and
noticed me. He squinted his eyes to see me through the glare of the sun.
I still had my headphones on. He knew I had heard number ten. The look
on his face when our eyes locked only confirmed that number ten wasn’t just a song. It was his way of speaking to me.
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