That week in August I had been house-sitting for my aunt and uncle who had left to move my cousin back from Florida. I had the house to myself, and that Friday night I had been alone and feeling kind of down. When you suggested you come over and keep me company for a while, I was conscious of the fact that I was currently seeing someone and that my aunt and uncle's rules were clear: no visitors.
Still, you were already one of my closest friends, which astonished me. No one had ever been able to break through my barriers so quickly, so easily. You understood me the way a bird understands the wind. No one had ever gotten it so right before. The best way I knew how to describe it was with one word. Click.
Even so, at the start of that night, my only interest in you was as a new friend. I knew seeing you would be totally innocent. We'd laugh and joke around, and maybe watch a movie.
When you arrived, I kept a respectable distance, sitting on the couch across the room from you while we watched Pitch Perfect. You were skeptical at first, but in the end you loved the movie, as I knew you would.
By then, it was getting late, and so I offered you a glass of water before you left, which you accepted. I was beginning to notice you had an obsession with putting ice cubes wherever you found bare skin. Looking back, I'm thinking maybe it was just an excuse to touch me again. At any rate, when you finally left I didn't feel quite so alone, and I found myself wishing you had stayed longer.
The next night you came back, and you brought our good friend The Doctor with you. That night I found myself sitting next to you, and we had made it through the entire sixth season. When we reached the 7th, it was going on three in the morning and I had been dozing off on your shoulder. We threw some pillows at each other to wake ourselves up, and when I was feeling a little stiff you rubbed my back for me (I still firmly believe that that was the best massage I've ever had the good fortune of receiving). We restarted our episode, only to fall asleep through it again. However this time, we had somehow inexplicably become entangled in a messy web of interlocked and sprawling limbs.
That night was probably my favorite night with you, until the moment it all ended with an angry phone call at six in the morning... the neighbors had seen your car and called my mom, who was angrier than ever. The fact that she was late for work was our only saving grace, but I knew I was in big trouble. I woke you up and we said our goodbye. I didn't tell you about the phone call, and the next day all I felt was sick to my stomach.
The thought of falling asleep with you was bitter sweet. It was the best night of sleep I had gotten in a while, but it was also the worst choice I thought I'd ever made, and I felt that way about it for the next five and a half months. I knew it was innocent, but I could imagine the way I would have felt if my boyfriend at the time had fallen asleep with another girl, even under similarly innocent circumstances. I never told him about it, I never told anyone about it. The only ones who knew were my family, me, and you. And it was going to stay that way.