(Before I get into my next post I wanted to remind you guys that this blog is the property of fantasy writer Avery DeBow. I’m just a guest. I suppose my actual existence is a matter of opinion, but I think I’m real enough, at least enough to entertain you guys for a bit. –Res)
Spider wants me to stay. That’s no real revelation. He’s made it clear he thought my leaving was a bad idea since I announced I was going to Tyne. But, last night while we were watching TV in his apartment, I think he was trying to make other things clear, too.
We’ve been friends since ninth grade, when I was new to the area and no one wanted to look at me, let alone utter a word in my direction. He was bad. So bad, he got my attention. Then, I became bad, too.
Over the next couple of years, our friendship expanded to include a few other people. First Ricketts, John-O, and Malice Alice. Later came Glory, Liz-Bet and Dino. But, we were the originators–the first, and closest. After another year or two, we closed the circle. We were happy with the eight people we hung with and thought maybe more people would disturb the ranks. But, the circle Spider and I sealed soon became irrevocably locked by the others, and external dating became nearly a taboo subject. Even now, the others continue with their dysfunctional partner swapping. Every six months to a year, they start to pair up. Then, over the course of the next several months, the couples dissolve one-by-one until almost everyone is single and swearing off dating forever. Two months pass and the hormones kick in full force, and they start gravitating together again–Ricketts with Glory, and now Glory’s old flame, Dino, with her best friend, Alice.
Like I said, it’s twisted.
Anyway, Spider and I never went for that. We teamed up, gluing ourselves together so no offensive moves could be made by anyone else. We had all the benefits of being a couple–companionship, snuggling, and laughing, everything but the sex. That, we got elsewhere. But, last night, my partner of old threw me for a loop. He didn’t fall to his knees professing his love for me. It was much more subtle than that–a hint that could easily be explained away if rejection happened. It was simply, “Don’t go,” and an earnest look in those green eyes that went straight to some chord inside me, plucking it like a stretched rubber band until my entire body vibrated.
It almost happened. I almost let myself kiss him. And then I thought, “Do I love him?”
In that way?