Page 36 of Crease Collision

Simple friendships can feel risky, and I know better than to let anyone in this far.

As I reach for one of the mugs, my hand is shaking. My brain takes off on its built-in rink, going so fast I can’t catch all the thoughts racing around up there. So I do something that helps. Instead of going to the reset room, which does no good when I am this worked up, I clean.

Carrying towels to the laundry room, I can’t help burying my face in the one Oskar used this morning. It hasn’t dried, and it still smells like him. Fuck my chest for how it tightens, making me wish I could have a boyfriend like Oskar. But that will never happen because I can’t afford the risk.

I move on to straightening up. It’s silly to spend time on this every day since I rarely leave anything out of place, but it’s a habit. At least today, I’m smart enough to find a cloth and dust as I go. Not that there is any dust since I cleaned yesterday before Oskar got here.

While I’m checking my LEGO to be sure they’re all aligned, my phone buzzes. I start toward the kitchen counter where I left it, then stop myself.

I’m hoping it’s Oskar, but what if it isn’t? Maybe Mom’s checking in from her vacation in Alaska, or one of my teammates wants to have lunch. If it’s Oskar, I’ll feel more conflicted than I already do; if it isn’t, I’ll wonder why he hasn’t texted.

Finish straightening things first. That’s what a normal person would do.

Five minutes later, I’m in the kitchen picking up my phone. My nerves are thrumming as soon as I see Oskar’s name, and I clutch the phone to my stomach. Although I’m desperate to read the message, I’m afraid to. I close my eyes, and after I count to fifty, I’m feeling calmer. Finally, I raise my hand and look at the screen.

OSKAR: Hello baby. I made it back to my hotel and took a nap. Hopefully, you are doing well. Thank you for inviting me over yesterday. I had so much fun. And last night was everything making love to a beautiful man should be, which is why I am so tired. I cannot forget your face when you were riding me or the sounds you made.

OSKAR: I miss you already. Are you busy today?

Fuck.

I put the phone on the counter, screen side down. It doesn’t help because every time I make a circuit around the living room, I go back to read his messages again.

Baby. He keeps calling me that, and I don’t say anything because I like it.

And what does he mean by how much fun he had? Does he mean the sex or the swimming? The orgasms or the talking? Which did he like better in the bedroom, fucking me or cuddling while we dozed?

Shit, which did I like better?

It’s impossible to say because they blur together. They’re inseparable, two sides of the same thing. The sex was incredible because I like the man so much.

My heart is beating so hard I get dizzy, so I sit on a barstool. This is what I’ve tried to avoid since college—the inseparability of a man from sex. Anonymous hookups helped me keep things compartmentalized. Except for the one with Oskar, because he didn’t remain anonymous.

Should I reply to his text now or wait? Now, right? So he doesn’t think I’m ignoring him.

What should I say? Nothing I can think of seems right. Every choice is too needy, too distant, too vague. It takes half an hour to settle on something that might work.

KAI: Thanks for coming over because I had an amazing time too. It’s been great hanging out with you. Hate to admit it, but you swim better than me. The advantage of youth, I guess. This is cleaning day for me. Hope you have fun.

My finger hovers over the send button, but I can’t tap it. This fucking message isn’t right either. It almost sounds like I don’t want to see him again, and I’d hate for him to think that.

I do want to see him again.

But I need to stop liking him so much.

For a few more minutes, I edit my message.

Had fun too. See you soon.

Delete soon. Too eager.

Had fun too. Thanks again.

Too formal, like I’m emailing my dentist.

Delete.

You’re trouble.