Page 37 of Boyfriend
So I leave him there and head downstairs to use my dad’s bathroom instead.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m wearing my brand new Westie pajama pants, and lying carefully on my side of the bed, as Abbi slides in beside me. The bed wiggles a little as she arranges herself at as polite a distance as she can manage in this small space.
I'm wide awake, and overly conscious of how close we are together. What would Abbi do if I rolled over and kissed her?
She’d kiss me back, that’s what. I know this on a gut level. But I’m still not going to do it. I invited her here as friends. And I promised her that I would be a gentleman. And it’s not fair to change the rules just because I’m attracted to her.
The silence seems really loud. I can tell Abbi is lying there, much like I am, too aware of the confined space to be restful.
“Thank you for the kickass pants,” I say. “They’re pretty awesome.” And so are you, I want to add.
“Thank you for the fuzzy, yet slightly egotistical sweatshirt,” she whispers.
I chuckle into the darkness. “They all have player numbers on the back, you realize. I didn’t invent that.”
“Of course you chose your own number, though,” she says in a teasing whisper.
“Well, sure,” I argue. “If you’re going to have some guy’s name on your back, why not mine?”
“I’m surprised it wasn’t sold out already,” she says with a giggle.
“They went fast,” I insist. “That’s what I’m telling myself anyway.”
“Uh-huh. I’m going to wear it tomorrow in front of Stevie. This isn’t over. I don't accept defeat easily.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that.” I’m realizing that it only took a couple of minutes for the awkwardness to blow over. Abbi is the best. She makes everything fun.
“He's right on the other side of this wall, right?” she whispers.
“Yup.”
“I have an idea. Did you see When Harry Met Sally?”
“Yeah, why?”
“The diner scene.”
I’m just processing this as Abbi wiggles a little. The bed responds with a creak. Then she moans. "Ohhh. Oh, Weston."
Holy… All my nerves stand at attention. Did she just moan my name?
She shifts again, and the bed begins to creak in a slow, rhythmic way. She must have braced a toe on the floor. "Mmmmm..." She sighs. Loudly.
And, wow, it's very convincing. I'm convinced. My dick is also convinced. Suddenly he's up and at 'em, wondering when the party starts.
"Oh Weston," Abbi croons. Then she elbows me.
“What?" I hiss as the bed continues its erotic rhythm.
"A little help, here," she hisses back.
Oh I'd LOVE to help! my dick screams.
What is happening? My brain and my body are on opposite tracks. On the one hand, I’m mildly amused that Abbi is trying to fake out Stevie with sex noises. It’ll never work.
But on the other hand, my body is on board this train. As the bed rocks gently I have no trouble at all imaging myself as the conductor.
I swallow roughly. "You realize you have to keep this up for a really long time, right? This is only a believable scenario if I last half the night."
