The whistle trilled, signaling the pack of girls to start their sprints. Sneakers squealed along with the errant complaint as Blake collapsed next to Maka on the bleachers. "So?"
Maka lifted her eyes from her book. "So?"
His tongue snapped before he narrowed his eyes at her. "How did your date go?"
"Fine," she chirped back with enough life to ensure that it wasn't sarcasm before looking back at the page.
"Still going slow?"
"Blake." His name was a threat but definitely not taken as one.
"I mean, I made sure to give him condoms, so–"
"You what?" She snapped the tome shut without consideration for the page, just wanting that hard spine to connect jarringly with his skull. The crack did nothing to abate the embarrassment and rage, but he'd already grabbed her wrist before she should thrust it downwards on him again. "And there are students present, so could we not–"
"Seriously, they're not listening." He turned his head back towards the array of ladies still suffering through sprints. "Hey, girls, I shit myself, wanna see?"
Eyelashes didn't bat, nor did any heads snap from Blake's original directive.
"See?" He offered with a slick smile. "They're always gonna be more focused on the game than on the sidelines. I trained 'em well." His pride didn't wane as he continued: "And I doubt he even had any– thought of any and I wasn't about to deal with you just datin' and knocked up."
"You wouldn't be dealing with any of that," she hissed while still attempting to dislodge her wrist for another good whack. "And that's besides the point–"
Blake raised his eyebrows. "Lobster-face says something happened."
"Fine!" she huffed before finally being able to rip away her hand to flop her book back in her lap. "We made out," she muttered.
"Just made out?" Blake's lip wrinkled while his head shook. "Seriously? Like not even hand over boo–"
Maka clapped a hand over his mouth, forcing his head stationary to catch her glare. "As in slow. We are seriously taking it slow. "
"Ugh," Blake barked in disgust. "Listen, was it cute little pecks or hot'n'heavy?"
She continued to glower at him.
"Maks, let me simplify this: hot'n'heavy, yes or no?"
A sigh escaped her as her eyes rolled. "Yes."
"And you, Ms. By-the-book, I'm going to assume you've both drawn up a contract that clearly states just exactly what slow is, huh?"
Her mouth opened, gaped for a moment, and then shut. No. There are no ground rules since… since I'd probably just end up saying 'no rules' and throwing caution to the wind and–
He thankfully turned his head before blaring the whistle again. "Girls, hit the showers!" Crankily grumbling teen girls started to filter out before Blake leaned closer, leaving this distinctly between the two of them. "So what's gonna happen this weekend?"
She shook her head dumbly. "It's his parents' house, and the kids are going to be there, so–"
"Nah, nah, nah." Blake threw up a silencing hand in her face. "There's three kids and six adults. Means we're still over a one-to-one ratio if the two of you were to sneak off."
"Blake, cut it out," Maka tried to mutter but it came out far too breathless for her liking.
"Not to mention the obvious: bathing suits." He tugged at her oversized sweater. "You take your bikini out of storage yet?"
That had conveniently skipped her mind but suddenly came into very clear focus.
"You know, that skimpy little thing that just pretty much means he's seeing you in your underwear and vice versa." Blake shrugged. "I mean, to tell you the truth, the guy's not half bad. Definitely doesn't work on his abs enough, but he's got some sick deltoids. You'd think with all his slouching he'd lose some shoulder structure but he's got a nice set– good back, too. Something that definitely gets shown off in a pair of trunks."
Maka tried to count backward from one hundred– tried to clear whatever tainted picture Blake was trying to paint. "It's swimming. It's for the kids."
"Yeah, and so's the hot tub, right?"
There was no hope but to tuck her shameful face into her hands.
"Look, you can't help it that you have a high sex drive–"
"Blake!" The venomed hiss slapped off her tongue as she parted her hands. "I don't. I don't even have– that. If you're looking at my track record I may as well be asexual, honestly."
"You're a guidance counselor, Maks, you're supposed to be up-to-date with all this sexuality stuff. If you're Ace, I'm a fucking Martian." He borrowed one of her rolls of the eyes before smiling glumly at her. "There's a big difference between not having those feelings and burying those feelings. Wanna guess which one I think you're doing?"
She dug her elbows into her knees, supporting a chin that wanted to helplessly droop. I know which one I'm doing.
"You talk to him about it?" This was offered with an unusual amount of gentleness, instantly tempered by Blake tweaking the skin under her arm.
Maka rubbed ruefully at the pinch while she muttered, "No."
"The Doc?"
"Started to."
"Alright." Blake settled back against the bleachers, stretching so his arms spread out over the seat behind him to look back at the now vacant gym. "I think he'd understand, you know."
"I know." There was no hesitation in that, the truth of it settled in Maka's heart long ago. He listens. He doesn't make promises he can't keep. He's a good man. It's just– he deserves everything he wants, doesn't he? If I can't– if I won't– "It's just early. It's new. We– that was our first real date, right?"
Blake turned his chin towards his shoulder, looking at her through the corner of his eye. There was nothing but skepticism, and Maka hated it.
"Who knows, maybe– I mean, some couples don't even make it to the intimacy part."
He huffed.
"Blake–"
"You're just being full of shit," Blake grumbled. "Just the problem now is that you're not the only one getting hurt. Remember that."
Soul had started to settle into the idea of Kilik sitting across from him in the living room while the sounds of the kids echoed above. It was definitely easier with a beer in each of their hands– though Kilik was never the type to show any amount of nerves.
"So, what next? Update the décor?"
"Baby steps," Soul groaned. "I'm supposed to take another thing outta their room this week and finish that goddamn journal."
Amusement twinkled in those brown eyes across from him. "And have a sleepover with your girlfriend this weekend."
Soul cleared his throat before following it quickly with a solid swig of beer.
"You did tell her about how we all sleepover, right?" Kilik leaned forward, his other hand tapping at the bottle's neck. "And unless she's staying in your parents' room, there's usually no beds left over when we divvy up."
"I'll sleep in the den with the kids," Soul muttered over the mouth of the beer before bringing it back to his lips.
He instantly started to chuckle. "Listen, the kids will cock-block you enough in the future. Don't let them start now."
Soul shook his head. "It's my parents' house."
"Because no one has ever gotten laid in their parents' house," Kilik replied jovially as he took a swig and then slammed him with that amused grin again. "Not even like you have to be scandalous or anything. Knowing you, just seeing her in her bedhead is probably what you're aiming for."
While that should have brought annoyance, Soul couldn't keep himself from exploring the mental picture:
Maka in an oversized t-shirt.
Ashen-blonde hair splayed across the pillow.
Maybe her hand reaching for him, placed just right on his chest.
"I-I still have to talk to her," he muttered under his breath.
Kilik nodded along sensibly but his smirk still stuck to his cheeks. "Yeah, communication is key."
Soul tried to ignore the playful tone there, just tilting his head back against the couch to focus on the ceiling. "Can I ask you somethin'?"
"Sure."
Just friends talkin', right? And this– this is better than readin' some fucking blog on the internet. "You've dated a lot since the twins…"
"Uh, a lot?"
"More than me," Soul amended with a sigh.
Kilik's chuckle rumbled for a minute. "Yeah, okay, but that's not technically a hard record to beat."
Exactly why I'm fuckin' askin' you, Soul wanted to grumble. Instead, he settled as unemotional a glance as he could manage back at the other man. "How long do you usually wait?"
Thankfully Soul didn't have to manage the entirety of that question, but it still only brought a shrug to Kilik's shoulders.
"What's that mean?" Soul pressed.
"Depends." Kilik released one hand from his beer, curling in his fingers before splaying out the one with each piece of his list: "On the girl. On you. On the timing. Sometimes it just feels like the fucking phase of the moon." He pulled all his digits back but one, motioning it at Soul. "And that's honestly not a question you ask another person. You and I don't date the same– we don't fall for girls the same. This is the first time I've seen you pay any attention to anyone. You're not a one-night-stand kinda guy, but to be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if you said you already did with Maka."
"W-why?" Soul croaked.
A wolfishness hit the corner of Kilik's grin. "Well, I'll start with the traditional Blake answer: 'dude, you must be horny at this point.' But then I'll add my own: I already said you don't jump for this kinda stuff, so it has to be someone really special that could even make you think about it. Not to mention, you're not the kind to half-ass anything. I'm gonna assume at this point you're head-over-heels. So big feelings usually lead to big leaps."
Soul needed to down the rest of the bottle before he could even attempt to process. Technically, horny wasn't exactly a word he'd ever used to describe himself. The few dating situations he'd found himself in had been lackluster overall– kissing, handholding, even moments when things seemed to be leaning towards hot'n'heavy had never really gripped him in the way it had his partners. Soul always had some lame excuse to pull the brake and skip out. Honestly, if anyone had accused him of being asexual he wouldn't really have an ounce of evidence to build a case against it.
Until this thing with Maka.
"Am I wrong?" Kilik offered, cluing Soul into the silent spiral he'd been on.
"Big feelings," he echoed with a sigh. "Yeah..." Why was it so desperately hard to put a finger on the way to describe it? It's not like he didn't have the vocabulary—a lot of it had been running through his head during and after—but it was the arrangement that spooked him into trailed off sentences. "I want things with her."
"Okay, good start, but I wouldn't suggest using things' when you discuss it with her." Kilik gave another playful chuckle before taking another sip of his beer. "Alright. While I love talking about your stunted love-life, what do you say we actually get down to business on the acoustic night?"
Soul could finally breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah. Looks like we got a lot of solos, but we should throw in some ensembles. Maybe practice a couple numbers together, especially some finale stuff."
"There's a couple of kids that I'll work with on some hits: Pedraja, Wilkens, Tran. Harris specifically asked for you," Kilik teased.
Soul rolled his eyes. "I thought I nipped that little fangroup in the bud last year."
"Nope," Kilik replied with a heavy laugh. "Harris, Diaz, and Reed have all returned to be your groupies this year."
"Damnit," he muttered back. "Think we can switch?"
"Fat chance." Kilik took another sip of his beer before leaving the empty bottle on his coaster. Since he'd leaned closer to the coffee table, the set list came into reach and he brought it to the top of the papers. "Start out with two solos, then you and the groupie girls, two duets with a trio sandwiched between them, me and my funky little group, and then one collective piece?"
"Sounds fine…" He was crunching numbers in his head, trying to make the question sound innocuous: "How many songs you gonna do?"
"One by myself, one with the kids." Kilik raised an eyebrow. "You?"
"Gotta do Layla' of course– I'll get the girls to do that with me." Soul fiddled with the label on his beer, thumb upending one of the corners. "Maybe I got a second to do by myself."
That brought Kilik's brows all the way up. "You usually don't."
"Yeah, well…" Soul tried to reply with as much nonchalance as he could manage. "Lots of things changin' this year."
I hate Blake.
I hate that he's always right.
I hate that he always tells you the truth, whether you want to hear it or not.
But I know it's exactly what I need, since I'm still so conflicted. Originally, I guess I wasn't even going to bring it up. Maybe I was planning on the wait-and-see strategy, and when I utterly failed like I usually do, I'd bring it up here as an opportunity to reflect. Because that's what I do. I jump, react, and then only regret after. I assume that's not exactly the healthy way to do it, so…
I am terrified when Soul touches me.
Not as if he'd assault me or not respect boundaries—there's no way he'd do anything like that—but because of me. Just me. I can't imagine him being anything other than patient, slow, understanding, but me? I'm either one of two things:
I'm my mama.
I'm my papa.
I know I've made it clear what Papa's problem is… and while I've never assumed myself capable of cheating, I've never really been given the opportunity. I already know—death, I hate saying this—that my sex drive is intense. I-I've always struggled with urges and keeping them in check. I don't know if it's some intrinsic thing passed down via Albarn genes or if it's some by-product of just never allowing that kind of release.
But Mama… when I was younger I wanted to absolve her of all wrong in the divorce equation. Papa cheated. That's more than enough to drive any woman off. Except the more I think about it, the more I realize how distant they were from each other before the cheating. Looking back, my mama always seemed to be putting on a veneer of familial love– as if it was something she knew she had to do but didn't actually know how.
So which one am I?
