“No, Trix. That’s not what I meant!” Treven cried, holding his hands over his face in a vain attempt to hide his flush. It was no use. The more he tried to hide it, the more intense his blush became.
“Your ears are magenta.” His best friend informed him, and gave them both little tugs for good measure.
“I know.” Treven glared through his hands.
“And your forehead.”
“I know.”
“Your neck too.”
“Trixie!”
This was a nightmare. “I… Trixie, we are not having sex!” he groaned.
“You sure? Because I’m totally not judging if you want to do the hanky panky with your housemate.”
“Trixie.”
“Do the do with your roomie.”
“Trixie!”
“Gettin’ busy with your little missy!”
“Trixie!”
“What?”
“No.” Treven was about ready to bash his head into the wall. But he didn’t have time for that; he had to head this off before Trixie really got on a roll. If he didn’t, he’d be listening to badly-rhymed sexual innuendo set to pop tunes for months. “She spilled Kool Aid on her shirt, okay? And it wasn’t a really thick shirt, so I guess it got on her bra…?”
“It doesn’t have to be a thin shirt to do that. But go on.”
“So then she went to the laundry room to get changed, and I…” his already red face heated up even more. “I just heard her talking about how if it stained, she’d be upset because it was a set. And her favorite.” Oh please, let her leave it there.
Nope.
“Okay, that’s completely boringly normal. But how do you know what they look like?” Trix was obviously holding on to the hope that sex was involved in there somewhere, or at least something steamy enough to involve him actually handling said undergarments.
But again, nope.
“Well…” he scratched his head. “I was going back to my room. But the door to the laundry room didn’t close completely, and I sort of saw the, uh… back of her bra? Like, the straps and stuff? And I recognized it from a couple loads of laundry I’ve rotated.”
Trixie’s eyebrows rose. “You were peeking.”
“I wasn’t!”
“You so were!”
“Okay, I was. But it wasn’t on purpose! She was talking!” But Trixie had already dissolved into gales of laughter. “No, Trix! It was- an involuntary reaction!”
Trixie froze, then just stared at him. And stared. And finally, after seeming to go over the words several times in her mind, she lost it. “An… Involuntary reaction, huh?!!”
“Wha…? Wait, no! Trix! That’s not what I meant at all!” But Trixie was literally rolling around on the ground, crying through her laughter.
It was ridiculous to be nervous. Sally was his friend. His friend. They lived in the same house, for crying out loud! They had for... oh, he didn't know. Months. They saw each other every single day, yet as he leaned against the outside wall, dressed up in his tux, and waited for her to emerge from the front door, Treven couldn't help the anxiety that knotted his stomach. Being around Sally was as easy as breathing at times, and at others he couldn't breathe at all. Because of her. he was sure that she had no idea of the affect she had on him. The way his breath caught in his throat when she tossed her hair. How he had to swallow several times to be able to speak when she came out of the bathroom in her pajamas, hair wet. She was so beautiful, it hurt.
He wasn't watching the door, instead gazing down the lane with a pensive expression. This was all so muddled. Should I tell her? he wondered over and over. Prilla kept telling him to suck it up and " get your groove on, man!" and Bria and Brooke maintained that they already acted like a married couple, so they might as well just make it official and tell each other how they feel... but it wasn't that simple. Sally was his best friend. They lived in the same house. He'd rescued her from a life of entrapment. He didn't want her to leave, stars, he didn't want that, but... what if she didn't like him like that? What if she was just grateful? What if... what if she saw him as more of a brother? Oh gosh. No. Nononononononono. That was not acceptable. If I tell her I... how I feel and she doesn't feel the same, she'll leave. I don't want that. But if I don't tell her... how long can I go on ignoring it before I do something totally stupid like blurt it out during breakfast?
I know it isn't Halloween yet, but I know how much you love that holiday anyway, so I figured I would bring it to you a month early in the form of yummy treats. The pumpkins were originally just gonna be, well, pumpkins. But then Prilla got a hold of them.
The caramel was also supposed to be covered in chocolate and then painted, but I sort of burned the first batch, and since I wanted to get it all done before you got home... here's some chocolate-less caramels. Sorry!
Anyway, there is a point to this! I was wondering if you would do me the honor of letting me escort you to the grand ball. There's honestly nobody in the world I'd rather go with.
It had become so easy. Easy as breathing, having Sally live with him. They were the perfect housemates- opposite shower times, good teamwork, and an affinity for comfortable silence. Treven loved every second that he got to spend with her.
He tried to convince himself that that was it. He loved having his friend around. He loved helping her feel safe, and keep her footing. He didn't want more.
But Treven had never really been in the business of lying to himself.
He tried not to think about it, to just be her friend. That's what she needed. It's what she wanted, surely. She had enough to worry about. So he shoved those bothersome, romantic thoughts away as approached their kitchen table where she was sitting, frowning at her sketchpad as if it had done her a personal wrong. She'd been sitting like that for nearly ten minutes now, occasionally sketching a few lines, but erasing them as soon as they appeared and going back to glowering.
"Hey," he greeted, resting both hands on Sally's shoulders. "It's a gorgeous day. You should take a break..."
After the escapades of a Christmas morning, Zyra was taking out the Christmas wrapping trash. Dumping the waste of money paper, she turned to go back inside, only to be sidetracked. Spotting a familure face, Zyra replaced her usual scowl with a small smile.
"Dear Sally. Merry Christmas." Urg, God, that sounded feral from her mouth. But Zyra was fond of her new acquaintance, and sacrifices had to be made.
