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Roxie: Go to sleepChris
Chris: OK OK goodnight
Chapter Seven
Roxie
May
Chris and I have been hanging outvirtually nonstop since the Dave incident.
Last month, he basically kidnappedme to go to Milwaukee and see the Lakers playing the Bucks at theFiserv Forum. Chris’s boss Lyle had originally bought the ticketsfor himself and his daughter, who is very much into basketball, butthe two ended up being unable to go, so Chris bought the ticketsoff Lyle and insisted I go with him.
This was the first game I’d beento since I’d stopped playing. After twelve years, it felt surreal,but I’m glad I went. We had a lot of fun, took a bunch of pictures,drank horrible beer, and ate not-entirely-horrible pretzels. I evencaught a t-shirt from one of the shirt guns! We bought ourselvessome Bucks merch. Chris immediately spilled mustard on his jersey,which would’ve been sad if it hadn’t been totally hilarious, andwas swiftly immortalized in half a dozen photos.
The game itself was decent. It wasthe last game of the regular season and it wasn’t going to changeanything in terms of playoffs, so both teams were phoning it in,but I got to see both LeBron and Giannis in their element becausewe had fantastic seats. I was apprehensive about how it would feelto be in the arena again, something I’d been avoiding for years,but it was better—lighter—than I’d feared. I had a great time,likely because Chris seemed determined to have me enjoy myself.
I caught him a bunch of timeswatching me intently when he thought I wasn’t looking. Those didn’tseem like relaxed, friendly looks, but it was probably him beingconcerned, since he knew what a big deal coming to the game was forme.
****
The cats are crazy about Chris.They might like him better than me, and I’m almost okay with that.I’ve thought about leaving the cats to him in my will, but I’mafraid that, if my two felonious felines somehow found out aboutit, they might kill me just to be with him full time.
The same could be said for Liz andJoe. I introduced them to Chris during Brat Fest, and the twoembraced him like a long-lost sibling. Or a puppy. Joe mightactually adopt him because you can adopt a grown man. In Wisconsin,any adult can adopt any other adult—I looked it up, because Joe andChris might actually need it. Given that they’re both lawyers, theyprobably know this already, but still. I like to hold onto sliversof delusion that I will have a place in the Chris-Liz-and-Joehappily ever after.
Chris works a lot, about as muchas I do. I have had a string of deadlines for the upcoming coderelease, so I’ve been coming home at 8:00 or 9:00 PM for weeks now.He and I have gotten into this rhythm where one of us texts theother to see when we’ll be home, and then we sort of alternategetting takeout for both of us.
Often, we just shoot the breeze orwatch TV or cuddle with the cats. Chris has been trying to get meto watch some WNBA games on one of the streaming services Isubscribe to, but I always refuse, because watching women’sbasketball still feels like a lot. However, I’ve managed to dig upmy old Nintendo Wii, which I thought I’d thrown away, so he and Iplayed Super Mario Galaxy 2. It was so much fun, just like when wewere in college.
He’s so easy to talk to, it freaksme out. It’s almost easier than with Liz, easier than with mostfriends I’ve had in the past. Maybe Chris is gay? He doesn’tfeel gay, though. He definitely gives off a straight-dudevibe, although I am not the person with the world’s most sensitivegaydar (hello, my high-school kind-of boyfriend Kyle, who, ifFacepalm is to be believed, is now into the burliest oflumberjacks). Maybe Chris is just a very good listener. Maybe hedoesn’t think of me as a woman at all. He probably doesn’t. He’s myheight, which I like, but guys usually don’t. The other day, Ilooked at his shoes, which are barely bigger than mine. I hoppedinto them and wiggled my toes around to see how they felt. Theyfelt, underwhelmingly, like someone else’s shoes.
He lives so close and I lovehaving him as a friend, so it’s probably for the best that hedoesn’t see me as a woman. Only … sometimes I think he does. Icatch him looking at me, all serious and intense, that ridiculouslysexy masseter muscle (I looked that up, too) in his jaw tightening,his pupils dilated black, even though the lights are bright and Iam fairly sure he’s not the type of person who gets high on a worknight. But when our eyes meet he smiles sheepishly, as if I’vecaught him with his hand in a cookie jar, and he looks away. I wishhe wouldn’t.
Sometimes I feel like somethingthick and sticky is growing between us, but we both pretend it’snot. Although I might be imagining all this. I’m probably imaginingall this.
****
June
If I went back in time and toldsophomore-year Roxie that Amy’s dorky boyfriend would be giving herlady blue balls a decade into the future, sophomore-year Roxiewould laugh me out of the apartment, shouting “Loser!” and slammingthe door behind me.
He’s gotten so damn hot, it makesno sense. He used to be this gawky kid, now he’s gorgeous. He’smuscular, but not bulky—he’s lean and wiry, like a racehorse. Justwatching his forearms as he presses the buttons on the gamingcontroller, I feel like I can resolve individual fibers movingbeneath his skin, and my mouth goes dry. I really, reallywant to feel his flesh move under my fingertips.
His hair is a little longer in thefront and gives him a youthful boyish look when he’s not slickingit back, which he does when he goes to work. Whatever pomade heputs in his hair smells heavenly, like citrus and mint andsomething else I can’t identify. After the last couple of months,just a whiff of it goes directly to my clit. One of the clients ina recent meeting was using the same one—it was verydistracting.
Maybe I’m just horny and need toget laid. It’s been almost three months since Dave. I’ve gone on afew dates through the hookup apps, but they were underwhelming.
Actually, they were fine, but myhead wasn’t in the game.
The problem is, I know what Iwant. Who I want. Being around him all the time is becominga problem.
My vibrators can only do so much.And they do very much indeed.
****
It’s Friday night and we both gothome at a reasonable hour. We ate some takeout tapas and drankcerveza, and we’re now sitting on my sofa, one of us in eachcorner, watching an action flick on TV. As always, the cats are oneither side of Chris, happily snoozing.
