Page 32 of Fractured Souls
“Thank you uh, for everything.”
He chuckles settling back into his bed. I take one more look at him then turn to leave. “Lock the door on the way out, handsome.”
“Yeah, of course. Um, night.”
He chuckles to himself, shaking his head. “Night.
I drive back to Bo’s but I’m not ready to go up there yet. My mind’s still a mess and I don’t want to wake him up, that’s assuming he’s even home. Maybe he had a better night than I had. Instead, I go for a walk. It’s about one in the morning, and streetlights line the sidewalk allowing me to see, because if I couldn’t, I’d be going the fuck home.
Yeah, okay, it’s lame for someone in their late twenties to still be afraid of the dark, but I think it’s more that I’m afraid of what I can’t see. It freaks me out. Turning down toward Main Street, I hear faint voices. Bars are just letting out now as people come and go from various places. It’s a college town, with two in the area. This time of year all the new college kids are trying to figure out where the their hangout spot will be. Downtown you can’t go more than a block without finding a bar or two.
I avoid it now, walking down another darker street instead. There’s still a streetlight ahead, and the moon is offering enough light to keep me from freaking out. Now, with the quiet of the night finally settling in, I think about tonight. I’m more confused than ever. I just don’t understand this. I know sexuality is aspectrum, I get that, but up until that night with Bo, men had never been on my radar. Like at all.
Bo and I have been friends for nearly two decades, and not once have I felt anything close to lust or romance with him. Now I can’t turn it off. It’s like he flipped some switch. Quite literally changed my brain chemistry.
Yet even as I think it, I wonder if it’s not exactly true.
I am always happiest when I’m around him. I love hanging out with him, and if I’m honest with myself, even when I’ve been in relationships Bo’s is always the place I want to be. Have I just confused these platonic feelings? Sure, it’s a lot. Friends don’t normally kiss, or hug, or cuddle the way we do. That’s just how we are. But I’ve never been turned on before. Right?
That first night when Bo touched me . . . that night he lit something inside me. And it’s refused to die out. There was zero feeling with Max, but with Bo . . . I felt everything. Max was hot, but touching him was awkward. We’d made out a bit before he got to his knees, but it was nothing like the makeout session Bo and I had.
I can’t exactly call myself straight, can I? Maybe I’m the Q in LBGTQIA because I am very very much Qing my sexuality right now. I’ve always thought Bo was cute. I love his soft silky hair and his slim elegant fingers as they fly across the piano keys. I love the scowl he gives me when I say something stupid and the emotion in his eyes when we’re having so much fun together. His glasses are like an extension of him, magnifying his beautiful eyes, and his cheeks always pink up in the winter or when he’s sad. His pale skin looks like porcelain, it’s so smooth, and his ears stick out a little, and it’s fucking adorable.
Okay, what the hell.
I don’t know if I have a type when it comes to women. It’s always a vibe. I do prefer thicker girls with lush curves, softstomachs, thick thighs, and plenty of ass to grab onto. Bowen is none of those things—well, I mean, his ass is pretty cute.
What the hell is happening to me?
Bowen’s always been the most important person in my life. My safe place and best friend. The attraction I feel is new yet old at the same time. I’ve always felt warmth toward him, but that’s a product of circumstance.
One time, when my father had hurt me, I ran away to Bo’s house. This was after my mother died. I snuck in through his window, and he tugged me inside and held me against his body for what felt like hours. He was so small then, could barely wrap himself around me while I cried against him, but I’ve never felt safer than I did there, with him.
I need to talk to him. If I can talk to anyone about this, it’s him.
Maybe he has answers for me.
Up ahead I see someone on the sidewalk. Are they painting? It’s still sort of dark out here even under the full moon, so I shuffle my feet on the pavement so they can hear me walking. I don’t want to startle them. The person looks toward me and takes off their hood to glare at me. Getting closer, I see her under the streetlight. A Desi woman eyes me suspiciously. “Just walking home. Don’t worry. I just didn’t want to startle you.” Her eyes lock onto me as I come closer to see what she’s doing. “Are you painting?”
Her eyes soften just a touch and she nods, turning so her back isn’t to me. “Yeah, I’m just putting some sealant on it.”
“At nearly two in the morning?” I laugh. I try to look at the painting but still give her space. This is a pretty safe town, but I get it. I don’t want to frighten her. I take my hands out of my pockets so she can see they’re empty, and I give her space.
“I’m big on procrastination, and this piece has taken me longer than it should have. It needs to be picked up tomorrow . . . well, I guess today.” She laughs. Her braided black hair is threadedwith purple, and she tucks a strand behind her ear, showing off a small gauge. She finishes the sealant and puts the can down, then tucking her hands under her arms and hugging herself, she looks at me. “What are you doing walking around at two in the morning? Walk of shame?” she teases.
“Something like that.” Rubbing the back of my head, I smile. “Just needed some air.” She nods, and I look back at her painting, seeing it now fully for the first time. “Holy shit.” Even on the dimly lit street I can see how incredible it is. It’s bright even in the darkness. A bright abstract sunset splashes across the page, made up of geometric shapes and patterns. All the chaos brings the piece together. “You’re fucking talented.”
“Thanks.” She looks me over, her eyes wandering, and heat caresses my skin.
“Sorry I startled you. You have a good night. And stay safe. You don’t know what weirdos are walking around at this hour.”
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’re right. You be safe too.”
“Yeah. I will. Have a good night—”
“Amira.”
“What?”
