"I have a date."
My best friend Carlos twisted around on the couch, away from his favorite TV program, to lock my eyes with a concerned gaze. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was doing that lip-biting thing he always did when he wanted to disagree with me. It was probably more intense than he meant it to be because my cheeks flushed and I looked away.
"Shit, Lace, I'm sorry," he said, standing and placing a hand on my arm, leaning down and catching my eyes again, coaxing me to look back at him. "I didn't mean it like—just—are you sure that's such a good idea?"
I sighed and flopped down on the couch. I'd recently gotten out of a very messy long distance relationship. It'd been six months since the break up but Brady had really fucked me up. Everything came rushing back.
"Baby, we need to talk," said Brady, one night over skype.
"Sure, what's up, babe?"
He ran his fingers through his hair, seemed a little annoyed. I was silent. I couldn't deal with him when he got agitated. "We've been together awhile now."
"Eight months tomorrow," I reminded him with a huge smile. He sighed.
"Yeah," he continued. "Well, I've been thinking…"
"Thinking…that…?" I prodded. He leaned back in his chair, carding his fingers through his hair once more and I knew he was getting aggravated.
"I can't do this anymore. I can't stand not getting to see you, kiss you….touch you."
"Well, there's nothing I can do about that. You know I'm saving up to come see you over Spring Break!"
"That's not the point!" He threw his hands in the air and I knew I was in for it now. "Lacey, I just can't do this anymore. I need you to be here or to not be in my life." Tears sprang to my eyes.
"W-what?"
"Honey."
NO, NO, NO, THIS IS NOT ALRIGHT, I thought, trying to hold the tears in.
"Sweetheart."
"I need to go," I choked out, and hit the end call button. I laid there, hugging my knees for what seemed like hours, and the tears never stopped. I looked at the clock. 3am. I really needed him, though. So with shaking fingers, I pressed the call button.
"'Ello?" I let out a ragged breath. "Lace, hun, what's wrong."
"Carlos," I whispered. "I need you."
Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door. I opened it and a disheveled Carlos wrapped me in his arms.
"Shhhh, baby," he cooed as I cried into his shoulder. Scooping me up in his arms, he carried me to the bedroom and laid me in bed. He sat on the computer chair and held my hand.
"Please," I begged. "I need you." He unzipped his hoodie and discarded it on the chair and crawled under the covers with me. His sweatpants felt soft against my bare legs and with his arms around me I almost forgot about what had happened. A wave of exhaustion hit me hard and I snuggled into Carlos. "Thank you, Los."
He was silent but just before I drifted off to sleep I heard him murmur, "I love you."
Coming back to reality, I realized Carlos was staring at me, slouched next to me on the couch, stroking my hair. The weight of his hand on my head was nice, but, though he was a decent distance away, the heat radiating from his body was far too hot.
"Oh," I said, scooting back from him on the pretense of sitting up straight. "Sorry."
"'Salright," he replied, withdrawing his hand. "You looked like you needed a moment." I smiled. He knew me so well. One of the reasons we'd become and stayed such close friends was this patience—he knew how to handle me. He'd learned early. Like the time James kept pushing me and pushing me, insisting he was teasing, and I'd given him a black eye. Never once did I even get annoyed with Carlos. He knew when to push and when to give me my space. I sighed again.
"He's not Brady, Los." Saying his name still felt like a knife to the stomach but I didn't let on. I locked Carlos in a firm gaze. His eyes darted back and forth, concern lines etched in his forehead, searching my face. I shivered. Sometimes when he did that, I couldn't breathe. He can read me like a book. Good thing I've never tried to lie to him. When he seemed satisfied, a wide smile split his face, and he began bouncing up and down.
"Well then, well then, Miss Lacey." He reached out and tapped the tip of my nose with his index finger playfully, bringing a smile to my face as I swatted at his hand. "Do tell."
So I gushed to him about the tall, dark and handsome British Literature major I'd met when our orders were switched at the coffee cart. Carlos smiled and nodded his approval.
"So when is this little shindig going down?"
"Saturday." His face fell. "Oh, Los, I know we were supposed to hang out, but—" He holds up his hand to silence me.
"No, no, Lace, it's fine. We can hang out any time. You have," he wiggled his eyebrows and affected his 'sexy' voice, "a date." He leaned forward and hugged me. I inhaled his familiar spicy scent, feeling completely at home.
"I love you," I said into his neck. I thought I felt him stiffen the slightest bit, but maybe I imagined it. "You're the best." He pulled away and turned his attention back to his show.
"Love you, too, Spacey Lacey," he said.
Smiling at the nickname, I pulled my legs up, rested my chin on my knees, and joined him in watching the sitcom. Without even realizing it, my gaze came back to rest on Carlos' profile. He laughed at a joke and I considered the slight dimples that appeared on his cheek and the way his eyes almost close when he smiles.
"Take a picture, hun. It'll last longer," he joked without even looking at me.
"Oh, shut up." I chucked a pillow at his head and he dodged it deftly.
"Well, why were you staring at me?"
"I was just thinking…"
"Dangerous," he mumbled.
"—that," I forged forward, pinching his arm. "you should ask Adrienne to hang out."
Carlos grumbled and started to protest at the suggestion. Carlos hadn't had a girlfriend the whole time we'd been friends. He'd taken girls out on a couple of dates but it never seemed to work out. The more I thought about it, the more strange it seemed. Carlos was a sweet, fun guy. I couldn't understand why he didn't have a serious girlfriend. And Adrienne, who worked at a deli close to set where the boys and I often got lunch, seemed perfect for him.
"What?" I shrugged. "Instead of spending the night alone and bored. She's so into you, bro."
"Meh." He rolled his eyes, looking at the TV. I pulled on his arm to make him look back at me.
"I don't understand. You never want to hang out with girls." He scoffed, mumbling something like "Do too!" I continued, "She's fun and hilarious. Not to mention gorgeous. And she totally wants you." I looked him in the eye with mock seriousness. "I don't think you should be so picky."
"I'm not being picky," he insisted, casting his gaze around for something to distract him. He let out a heavy breath. "I just….she's not my type."
"Not your type?" I didn't believe it for one second. "So you like the boring, homely type, is that it? What do you mean?"
Before Carlos can answer, a flash of blonde and a woosh of air announced Kendall's arrival as he vaulted over the back of the couch and landed between us. Grabbing the remote, he changed the channel to some crime show.
"He means," Kendall trilled in a sing song-y voice, "that she's not you." My eyes shot to Carlos and he grabbed the remote back, ignoring Kendall's comment. It's the moment before that which caught me off guard. He was beet red, looking at me with eyes that want. But then it was gone and, God, I must have imagined it again. I shook it off.
"You're an asshole, Kendall," I said. "You know Carlos and I are just friends."
"Nice to see you, too, bitch," he replied, pecking me on the cheek. I thought I saw Carlos redden again. Kendall turned to Carlos. "For real, though, man. Why don't you give her a chance? She really likes you."
Defeated, Carlos sighed. "Fine. I'll ask her after work tomorrow!"
Kendall held out a fist for me to bump. Him and I together were always able to win over Carlos. He sometimes called us the Dirty Dos because we could pretty much get him to do anything he didn't really want to do.
"Me and Lace win. Now can we find Logan and James and get something to eat?"