Lia: So far, reviews aren’t in my favor.
Breaker: Because you’re sucking the wrong dick.
Lia: Apparently.
Breaker: What did he do? Did he get to taste you?
Lia: No.
My breath picks up, becoming more labored as I wait for him to text me back.
Breaker: Good.
Good? I sit up now as I stare down at my phone.
Breaker: He doesn’t deserve to taste you.
I glance over at the wall we share as if I can see through it. What’s he doing? Is he home?
Lia: Is everything okay, Breaker?
Breaker: You tell me.
Lia: What is that supposed to mean?
Breaker: Why are you texting me and not fucking Brian right now?
My palms sweat, my fingers slide along my phone, nothing making sense, but also, the sound of his sultry voice from earlier repeats in my head.
Lia: We got in a fight, and we’re taking a second to cool down.
Breaker: Did he say some bullshit about you again? I swear to God, I will end him if he did. You’re so fucking beautiful, Lia. Don’t let him make you think otherwise.
I drop my phone onto the couch and stand, my heart racing.
What is actually happening?
This is Breaker. We always stand up for each other, but this feels different. It sounds different.
My phone buzzes again, and I see that it’s from Breaker. My mind tells me not to look, but my heart is begging me to.
The heart wins out.
Breaker: What did he say to you?
I pace the length of my living room as I text him back.
Lia: Just asked me if I’m having some sort of crisis because of my haircut and my questions about sex.
Breaker: Bro is a goddamn fool. He should be fucking you every chance he gets, especially with your new hairstyle. So sexy, Ophelia, fuck . . .
I let out a low groan, my eyes swimming with uncertain tears. Because how can Breaker, my best friend, talk like this? How can he say everything I want Brian to say? Brian can hardly even look at me, kiss me, or acknowledge that I’m a slight distraction from his ever-consuming work.
Another text comes in.
Breaker: Why isn’t he fucking you?
Giving up on trying to figure out what is going on, I move to my bedroom, where I flop on the bed, my headboard hitting the wall.
Lia: I don’t know, Breaker.
Breaker: Did you just lie down in your bed?
Lia: Yes, are you home?
Breaker: Yes, in my bed, thinking about you.
I squeeze my eyes shut and count to five before I answer, before I say something stupid—because I’m extremely emotional.
Lia: Why are you thinking about me?
Breaker: I’m always thinking about you.
Lia: You can’t always be thinking about me.
Breaker: I am. When I wake up, I wonder how I can possibly interact with you, how I can catch a glimpse of your smile. Throughout the day, I know that if I need a pick-me-up, some comfort, or fun, you’re the person I want to see. And at night, when I go to sleep, you’re the last thing I think of before I shut my eyes.
My teeth roll over my bottom lip as I text him back.
Lia: You say that as if it means more.
Breaker: Maybe it does.
Lia: What are you trying to do?
Breaker: Nothing.
Lia: We don’t say things like that to each other.
Breaker: Yeah, well . . . maybe we should.
Lia: What are you talking about?
Breaker: Never mind. You won’t get it. You have Brian.
Lia: Breaker, what the hell are you trying to say?
Breaker: Nothing. Not a damn thing. I need to sleep this shit off. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
Lia: No, talk to me now.
When he doesn’t reply, I text again.
Lia: Breaker, do I need to come over there?
Lia: Breaker . . .
I stare at my phone, waiting for a response as my heart races. What is he talking about? It almost seems like . . . like he has feelings or something, but that can’t be right. This is Breaker. He doesn’t do feelings, right?
When he doesn’t text back, I almost walk over to his apartment until I hear one solid, heavy knock against the wall.
Then four.
Then three.
And then there’s silence.
One knock. Four. Three.
My mind quickly translates it: I love you.
He’s never knocked like that before. Never three words, never by himself. So what does that mean? What does this all freaking mean? Tears of frustration rise to my eyes as my phone dings with a text message.
Hoping Breaker is texting to explain it all, I quickly check the screen, but I’m quickly disappointed.
Brian: I’m sorry about our fight. I love you very much, remember that. You’ll be my wife in four weeks, and we have the rest of our lives to figure out the details.