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It’s not an automatic death sentence to actually enjoy the company of the person you’re sleeping with. I like Hannah. I’m not sure exactly how long that’s been the case, but it’s not the most foreign feeling to me. She, however, treats the idea as if it is my personal goal to ruin her life in the process.
With that thought, I choose my words carefully so as to not scare heroff.
“It’s just pancake mix, Hannah, relax. It’s not a marriage proposal.” I slide the plate across the island.
This seems to quell her anxiety. She moves to sit on a stool, her shoulders finally deflating as she reaches for the maple syrup, glugging it onto the short stack with little concern for the sugar coma it is sure to induce.
“Would you like some pancakes with your syrup?” I laugh as I sit down next to her and grab the bottle from her, drizzling a normal amount of syrup onto my pancakes.
“Oh, shut up, I’m not the first person to like maple syrup.” She nudges her arm into mine as she lifts her fork to her mouth.
“Maybe not, but you are the first person I’ve met that I worry might actually willingly inject maple syrup into their veins.”
Hannah nearly chokes on her bite as a chuckle breaks free, which plasters a grin to my lips. She recovers quickly. “Idiot,” she says, but the insult doesn’t meet her eyes as she grins.
Maple syrup lingers on her lips, and without a second thought I lean over, brushing my lips over hers. The sugary, rich, caramelly flavor lingers as my tongue ghosts over her bottom lip, causing her to melt into my touch.
Ding-dong.
The ring of my apartment doorbell startles us from our embrace. Hannah’s surprised expression meets mine, but I’m just as confused.
“Who’s at your door?”
“Do I look like I can see through walls?” I snip as I jump from my seat.
“Well, what do we do?” She’s frazzled and it would honestly be cute if I wasn’t concerned with who might be at my door.
“Uh…” I look around the room, the open floor plan of my apartment now an inconvenience. “Go hang out in my bedroom for a while, I’ll get this handled.”
I lean in and tenderly kiss her; it’s so instinctual it nearly tosses me off my axis. The nonchalant nature of it is terrifying, but I don’t have the time to unpack that.
My hand swats her ass as she runs to my bedroom, my T-shirt from last night hanging loose on her small frame. The moment I open the door, I see quite possibly the worst person who could possibly show up while Hannah is in my apartment.
“Hey, Jackson, what’s up?” I say as I wave him into my space despite wishing I could justifiably do anything but. He’s drenched in sweat, his T-shirt and sweatpants clinging to his frame. “Did you…run here?” I can’t hide the amusement that seeps into my words.
“What?” He looks confused until he looks down at his body. “Oh, hah. No, well…technically yes, but nottohere. I was on my morning run.”
“Something about physical fitness just made you think of me?” I slap him on the shoulder with a shit-eating grin. “I mean, I get it. I have a great body, so I don’t blame you, but I don’t see you like that, buddy.”
“Fuck off,” Jackson laughs as he swats my hand from his shoulder. “No, I wanted to talk to you about wedding stuff before I forget again.”
“What about the wedding?” Though this will clearly be a loaded conversation, I want nothing more than for him to leave.
“Viv is worried about you and Hannah walking together. She seems to think something bad is going to happen if we don’t change the lineup.”
My tumultuous history with Hannah has become something of legend in our friend group, but most of it they’ve never seen. It’s more implication based on our bickering, but no one, not even Jackson, knows the full extent of my history with her.
“Trust me, Jackson, we’ll be fine. We’re adults—I think we can play nice so as not to ruin our best friends’ wedding.” Not to mention, he’s her brother, and it kind of bugs me that he assumes she wouldn’t put our issues aside for the sake of him and Gen. “She loves you and Gen. Both together and as people. She’d never do something to ruin your wedding.”
His confused expression makes me realize my misstep faster than my brain can register it. “I wouldn’t let her, is what I mean. You have my word: I won’t give her a single reason to have an outburst at your wedding.”
I suddenly find myself pleading that my walls are thicker than I think, because I can’t imagine Hannah would love to hear about her brother’s lack of faith in her. We have our issues, I’ll be the first to admit that, but I’ve never agreed with the way her family treats her and how little they think of her. It’s not right, but it’s not my place to say something, so I keep quiet most of the time.
“Thanks, man,” Jackson says as he takes in my apartment, the normally pristine space a litter of discarded clothing, my coffee table still topped with two wine glasses, and my kitchen island clearly displaying two half-eaten plates of pancakes. “Uh…get laid last night?”
“Yeah, uh.” I scratch the back of my neck, trying to think of a reason to get him to leave. The only solution I can come up with is the truth. “She’s actually in my room right now, so if you could…” I wave toward the door.
“Oh, shit, yeah. Sorry about that. I should have called.” Heturns back toward the front door before turning around with a grin. “Have fun!”
