As if to signal the end of this conversation, the lunch bell rings and the cafeteria noisily packs up to head off to afternoon classes. I notice Nolan didn’t eat his lunch, but before I can comment, he’s up and gone with a quick waved, “Later.”
He meets up with a distressed Felix on his way out. He says something in his ear, and Felix smiles and nods. Despite my concern, I’m comforted by the notion that, at the very least, I gave Nolan his best friend back.
Chapter 4
Nolan
While excitedly digging through the boxes of his old stuff, Felix exclaims, “Hey, it’s my ‘Stand back. I’m going to try science!’ shirt!”
He tugs his shirt off, the rippling of his arms and back muscles catching my attention in a way I don’t want to admit to. Felix has been my best friend for as long as I can remember, but it’s difficult to ignore the fact that James and I used to fuck. I’m well aware of what it feels like to run my fingers along his well-defined body. I know what he smells like when he’s desperate for me. I know what his moans sound like right before he climaxes. Shit, I know what his fucking cum tastes like. And now all this information applies to Felix too.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!I mentally shout while looking away, pretending to peer through one of the boxes that fill Felix’s old room in my house. All the guys have one, it’s my parents’ way of showing affection. The house has way too many rooms for three people anyway. They want to put one together for Callie, but I’ve been holding them off, telling them it’s too soon to redesign an entire room for her, that she’s not used to that kind of attention and it might freak her out. This is a complete lie, and I’m a shitty person for saying it, but the truth is, I want her in my bed cuddled up against me. Her nearness makes the darker, lonelier parts of me quiet.
She’s another person I have feelings for and shouldn’t. They both deserve better than me. I sigh and wonder if it’s better or worse that it appears, for now anyway, like my attraction to Felix is more leftovers of my physical attraction to James.
“Damn, it doesn’t fit,” Felix grumbles, followed by grunts of struggling. “Can you help me out of this? I think I’m stuck.”
Turning back around, I find Felix’s arms trapped above his head, the shirt inside out and straining around his bulging upper arms and shoulders. Felix’s head is covered too, so he’s unaware of how my eyes can’t help but follow the lines of his body from his chest and abs down to his snug, denim-clad legs.God damn it, stop checking out your best friend!
Trying to be more casual than I feel, I walk over and start tugging on the shirt. This, of course, leaves me constantly brushing up against him. This is my hell. I’m being punished for all the people I’ve fooled around with, aren’t I?
At the sound of seams splitting, Felix panics. “Don’t tear it. This is one of my favorite shirts.”
“I know,” I grunt, shimmying one sleeve toward his elbows, hoping once they are free of his biceps the damn thing will come off. “How did you even get this thing on?”
“I didn’t,” Felix explains through a mouthful of fabric. “It reached about my chest and got stuck. This body is too big! I feel like Bruce Banner who woke up as the Hulk.”
“Dude, you’re not that big.” I laugh, feeling better at hearing one of Felix’s geeky references. My best friend is alive. He just looks different. “And most people would be happy waking up being as fit as you are now.”
“Yeah, well, they didn’t wake up to all of their favorite clothes not fitting,” he whines when we finally get the t-shirt off him. He quickly puts the shirt he was wearing earlier back on. It’s navy blue and has a baseball cap wearing cartoon beer hop on it. “Also, I like running now. I used to hate exercise, but I feel antsy now if I don’t do a morningandevening run.”
“Probably a good thing,” I reply, folding up the old shirt that’s now very stretched out. “Those kinds of muscles take maintenance.”
“You’re saying I have to do more exercises?” he shouts incredulously and flops back on his bed in the middle of the room. The mattress is stripped of any blankets or sheets, all the linens tucked away in one of these boxes.
“You have a lot of weight lifting in your future,” I tease, moving to sit on the bed beside him. The mattress squeaks under our combined weight. “You’re welcome to use the gym downstairs whenever you want.”
“Great. Thanks,” he mumbles, clearly unhappy with the realization that the athlete’s body he woke up in won’t stay that way if he doesn’t maintain it.
I squeeze his ankle. “You going to be okay?”
Felix sighs and tucks his hands behind his head. “Yeah… it’s just… Don’t tell Callie, but this wasn’t what I imagined coming back from the dead would be like. I thought I’d be able to pick up my life where I left it, but instead, I’m living this warped version of James’s. I’m grateful to be alive, don’t get me wrong.”
“I know you are,” I assure him, releasing his ankle so I can sit cross-legged at the foot of the bed.
We’re quiet for a moment, Felix lost in his thoughts and me trying to look elsewhere but at James’s former face. The clouds outside breeze along the sky, allowing peeks of light to come through the floor-to-ceiling windows and paint odd shapes on the walls. I pick at one of the threads on my ripped designer jeans, trying to figure out what to say to make him feel better.
“It’s like you’re a character from an MMO that you bought already at max level,” I start, hoping this analogy about online role-playing games—which I only partly understand—works. All I remember is it was something Felix used to complain about. “So now you’re having to figure out what everything does while also fighting high-level monsters. It would have been easier if you’d played from the beginning, but that doesn’t mean you won’t eventually figure out how to play.”
Felix bolts upright and has this huge grin plastered on his face. “Did you make a video game reference?”
“I do listen,” I chide with mock indignation, then shrug. “Most of the time I just don’t care.”
“Ouch!” He laughs, rubbing at his chest like I’ve deeply wounded him, but it’s undercut by his smile.
“Yeah, and I’m sure you’re fascinated by the inner workings of our school’s social circles when I talk about them,” I contend with a raised brow.
“It’s like you’re talking about an alien species,” he grouses, flopping back on the bed, his arms once again folding under his head. “And you’re not all that interested in it either, don’t lie.”
