Duplexity

"Uh, yes," I said into my phone. "I need a large supreme pizza, extra—"

"Dude, no black olives," Jamie shouted, without looking away from the TV.

"A large supreme pizza,

no

black olives. Extra cheese, extra mushroom, and thick crust." Once the order was confirmed I threw myself onto the couch and stared at the TV. "Food is ordered. Can we play now?" I rolled my eyes.

He glanced at me with a smug grin and switched the input while I turned on the Play Station. "You know, I grew up on Crash Bandicoot. I hope you know what you're in for here."

"Yeah, yeah. Just play your fucking turn."

We went back and forth for a small while. During his turn I decided to shift the conversation away from petty smack talk and jokes. "So how do we compare to Middlebury? Is it everything you hoped it would be?"

"And more. I feel much more at home here. Oh!—" he shouted after he died, handing the controller over to me.

"It's been a few weeks now . . . Have you met anyone else?"

Jamie breathed out a small laugh. "I guess. I mean, I haven't really been trying. You've been not only an awesome roommate but a good friend as well. All you need is one good one, I think."

I felt my face get hot, and it only got hotter the more I tried not to grin the shit-eating grin that was trying to fight its way to the surface. I quickly tried to change the subject. "Have you met any girls?" I asked casually. My heart, however, was pounding as I anticipated his answer.

Please, say no.

Although, what did it matter. He wasn't into men and a few weeks without sex wasn't going to change that. Still, the thought of him flirting with a woman made me jealous. Not just because she got his attention, but because she had all the things I wanted and wasn't able to obtain.

"Yes and no. If I wanted a casual hook-up I'd say yes. But I'm really not into playing the field or whatever—watch the fucking crab and pay attention." He sighed at my lack of attention to the game. "Have I met a girl who I'd like to go steady with? No. There has to be a real connection."

The smile on my face when he said that was so cheesy and obvious that I grasped at straws to find

something

to explain it. "Going steady? Are these the fucking fifties, you douche?"

Jamie busted out laughing and tossed a throw pillow at my face, causing my character to die. I laughed with him, but when I gave him the controller our fingers touched. It may or may not have literally caught my breath—not so much the "electricity" as it was the desire I felt to touch him again. It hit me like a ton of bricks, completely by surprise.

Call it kismet.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked.

I searched those words for some hidden meaning, yet found nothing. I didn't for a second doubt that it was just a casual question asked during a casual conversation. Still, in my head it was fun to pretend that he was asking because he

wanted to know

. You know?

"No, not really," I laughed sheepishly. "I don't date much. It takes a lot for me to get close to someone and let my guard down. I guess I'm like you in the sense that I don't like casual dating. In-in fact," I stuttered, "you're frankly the first guy since high school to get my guard down."

When I said what I said, it was not meant to be a hint at my feelings for him. He'd paid me a great compliment earlier and I was trying to do the same and let him know how high in regard I hold him, his opinions, and his feelings. Regardless of the way I was trying to justify it in my head, I

did

realize how it sounded. I thought to explain myself and stammer for an explanation, but when I looked at him the horrified expression on my face fell away.

He was smiling, much like I had earlier when he complimented me. "See?" he said, glancing back at me. "You only need one good one."

I averted my eyes from his as quickly as possible because I knew that if I didn't, I'd linger too long and then I'd

definitely

have given myself away. But I couldn't help but think of the smile he gave me. He must have held me and my opinions in high regard too. While he played his turn, I stared at the side of his face. Don't worry, I was sitting beside him, yes, but behind him enough that he wouldn't feel my eyes boring down into his very soul.

I studied his features thoughtfully, taking in everything I could before it was my turn. His hands were very large and rugged, complimented by the wristwatch he sported. There was something about a man in a wristwatch that turned me on so much—it just seemed masculine and sexy, especially when that watch was nestled by golden arm hairs. His Adam's apple was quite subtle, much like the kisses I wanted to decorate it with.

"

Carson!

"

"What?" I snapped.

He held out the controller to me expectantly, wagging it for effect. "It's your turn."

"S-sorry. I zoned out," I mumbled, snatching it from him. I. Was. Mortified. There was no doubt that he caught me staring at him, but he was a gentleman enough not to hold it against me.

The conversation pretty much ended there, and light banter picked up again. We ate our pizza with a few beers, goofed off, and played video games for the rest of the night. It remained casual, although that didn't stop me from once again going to bed with a smile on my face.

Or at least trying to go to bed. The thought of him left me tossing and turning in bed with a pain in my cheeks and a flutter in my stomach. It had only been a couple of weeks, but really, how long does it even take to know you have feelings for someone? We

did

live together, after all. It's not like I was fawning over him from a distance or something; we hung out constantly—in and out of the house, had loads in common, and the conversation was always easy and enjoyable. My feelings for him made perfect sense if you ignored the fact that he hadn't a clue about being the object of another man's desires.

He was intelligent, witty, charming, and incredibly sexy. Like I said. What's

not

to like? And the best part of it all? He's completely and utterly unaware of it. Modesty is a must.

____

Over the following weeks, my crush became even more serious. Honestly, we were becoming inseparable and he'd quickly become the closest friend I had.

At the time I was a teacher's aid—it was part of getting my degree but it paid nicely too. Every now and then the teacher would allow me to teach portions of her class and I even got to help planning assignments and making tests. Jamie, on the other hand, worked at a pharmaceutical company about fifteen minutes from the school.

During recess he would usually take his lunch break and stop by the school with food, and we would hang out near the benches and eat together. Much like school boys, in fact, except I was the one crushing like one.

"I can see why you would want to work here," he said one day, observing the children at play from a small distance. "It must put you in a good mood being around kids all the time."

I shrugged with a nod. "Pretty much. And I've gotten close with the ones in my class. I love them."

Jamie laughed as he chewed his burger, shaking his head in what appeared to be disbelief. "You fucking sound like a kid right now, making friends with your classmates."

Despite myself, I smiled and rolled my eyes.

Ms. Hayward, the teacher I . . . aided or whatever, approached the table and smiled warmly at me. She really was a charming woman, and I found myself quite taken with her. She was a tiny little thing and always wore summer dresses and a sweater. Quiet, innocent, and soft spoken, Sabrina was really popular among the kids—particularly the boys. Not only that, but she was passionate about her work and genuinely loved making people happy.

"Hello, Carson. Jamie," she nodded coyly with a smile. But it was obviously not directed at

me

.

"Enjoying lunch?" I smiled. "Feel free to join us!"

"Oh, that's quite alright." She ran her hands down her dress to straighten it. "I was just making sure you didn't forget about the play tonight. The children are so excited."

I swirled a fry in some ketchup and popped it into my mouth. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Sabrina."

She focused on Jamie. "Did you know about the play?"

"Not at all," Jamie said, giving me a smug glance.

"Mr. Brillinger here and I worked pretty hard on it. He wrote most of the songs," she winked, laughing.

My eyes widened and I stared at her hard, hoping she'd get the hint and shut up before she embarrassed me. If she noticed at all, she dismissed it entirely and left me to seethe on my own.

"Is that so?" Jamie asked with a sinister smile reaching from ear to ear.

"Oh yes. And he performs them with the class. You should join us tonight and see it." Sabrina gave him a meaningful look and a smile, then walked away.

I glared daggers at her retreating figure, hoping one would pierce her heart. She was

flirting

with Jamie. Seriously?

"She's cute," Jamie said thoughtfully. "Was she asking me out—"

"No," I said hastily.

"Then maybe I should ask her out."

My menacing glare slowly moved toward his direction until I locked onto him. I shocked myself with how jealous I was at the attention she got from him. It was the kind that ripped you up inside. "Yes . . . Maybe so," I said slowly. "But probably not. There's the . . . age difference . . . to consider. Something like that."

Dang, I was good.

He scoffed with that same sexy lopsided grin he always had. "She's, what, two years older than me? If even that? I'm going to ask her out."

"But she's a dirty little— . . . a dirty little tramp!"

"She's a tramp?"

"I said scamp! A dirty little scamp!"

Jamie cocked his head back with a suspicious grin. "Is this about me?" He gestured to my clenched fist and eye slits.

Casually and coolly I unscrunched my face and released my fists. "What do you mean? Of course not."

He glared as he studied me, same suspicious grin. "Did you really not want me to see you sing?"

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank God.

"I don't fucking sing. I play the piano, damn it. The kids sing."

Jamie looked pleasantly surprised. "I didn't know that. This should be fun!"

"Why are you coming?" I frowned. "It's not like your kid is in the play."

"I'm not really going, you big baby. I was just teasing you." He glanced over his shoulder at Sabrina, who was on recess duty today. "I

am

going to ask her out though."

I kicked him underneath the table and tossed a fry at his head, eliciting only a snicker from him. After I kicked him I just so happened to leave my foot next to his, and before I knew it we were toughing. The fact that he didn't feel the need to move away did resonate with me, although I knew it shouldn't. He simply may not have been aware that we were touching or it just didn't bother him. But I liked to pretend that it was because he wanted to touch me like I wanted to touch him. I wanted to so badly, in fact, that the ankle I held against him was on fire.

I cleared my throat. "Oh. When?"

"Now is as good a time as any," he winked, leaving the table. "Wish me luck."

I watched him jog over to her, and each time his feet touched the ground it was like he was stepping on my heart. I could see both their profiles, observing each of them. He was as cool and collected as ever, smiling at her and making her laugh. She, on the other hand, was exactly as I'd be: bashful and blushing. Sabrina had her left foot pointed into the ground behind her and was swirling it in the dirt nervously as she laughed and smiled at whatever Jamie was saying.

What a little scamp,

I fumed to myself, glaring at her once again in the hope that it would hurt her.

Sabrina, like all faculty and staff, wore a lanyard with her ID attached. She removed the pen she had clipped to it and wrote something down on one of the papers in her clipboard before tearing the corner off. They shared a few more words and he jogged back over with a beaming smile on his face that left me swooning all over again.

"Well?" I asked half-heartedly, doing the best I could to sound bubbly.

He unfolded the small piece of paper and held it open for me to see its contents as he wiggled his eyebrows: her phone number. Which I assumed wasn't even really

her

phone number because it didn't read

666

. "We are going out after the play."

____

I was distracted the entire duration of the play—truly. My stomach felt ill—probably a combination of pre-show jitters and nausea from the fact that

Sabrina

went home and changed into something much too nice for the occasion.

Come on, Sabrina. They're fucking first-graders.

But I could see that she wasn't playing around.

While I played the piano and children sang I watched her as she stood behind the curtain, oblivious to my menacing death glares. I watched as she mouthed the words to each song excitedly, and it made me angrier that she was such a great person. It made me feel bad for taking out my feelings of frustration out on her, when she didn't deserve it and would have been foolish not to be interested in Jamie. Yet the longer I stared the more I'd notice: a piece of jewelry she wore that I never noticed before, strappy sandal heels or whatever they're called, eyeliner. She never wore makeup beyond the tinted chap stick and a touch of mascara.

But as I said: she wasn't there to play and had brought out the big guns. And although I hated to admit it, she looked gorgeous and Jamie would undoubtedly think so too.

After the show I bolted out of there, not without having chatted with the kids and told them how proud of them I was and gushing with Sabrina over how well things went that night. But Jamie said he'd be at the school to pick up her up (made more sense than her driving home, or whatever shit he said) and I didn't want to run into him. I hopped in my car and left, going straight to my room as soon as I got home.

I was mostly moping and pouting, wondering what they were doing and whether or not they were having a good time. My emotions were split into two: the good, honest, and human side of me really wanted things to go well. He deserved his happiness and, honestly, I knew what kind of person Sabrina was. I trusted her and knew she wasn't someone who was going to hurt him; however, the bad, jealous, demonic side of me hoped it was a nightmare for them both and that he'd end up alone forever with me.

With exasperation I sighed to myself, bored and unable to shake him from my mind. So . . . I decided to use that to my advantage. Cautious with excitement, I snaked my hand into my pants ever so slowly. With my free hand I unzipped and unbuttoned my jeans, pulling my semi-hard cock out. Despite myself I smiled, picturing him crawling into my bed with his backwards baseball cap and lopsided grin. He kissed me passionately—oh, he was such an amazing kisser. The pad of his large thumb stroked my cheek as our kiss deepened and became more heated. I hastily slipped his shirt off, breaking the kiss for only a moment before he came back hungry for more.

He moaned a sexy, gruff moan into my mouth when I bit his lip and gave it a small tug. This sound lit something inside me; I pushed him onto his back and unbuttoned his cargo shorts, my eyes locked onto his the entire time. He sported the cockiest, sexiest grin I'd ever seen and I wanted to wipe it from his face. So I did.

In one swift motion, with eyes still locked, I swallowed his entire cock. His eyes glazed over as euphoria immediately set in, and I could see he was trying his best to keep his head from lolling back. My pride swelled at the sight of this, and with it my own cock. I slowly jerked myself off as I bobbed up and down on his massive erection, moaning with the hopes that he'd feel the vibration in my throat.

I could tell that we was getting close to the edge: the gripping of the sheets with one hand and my hair in the other, the tightening of his jaw as he grit his teeth, and the heat in his glare as he stared down on me with such need and desire. At that point I had no control at all; he used my hair to guide me up and down, slamming my face down into his crotch entirely. Without warning or hesitation Jamie shot his load in the back of my throat, moaning loudly and falling back.

I continued to suck a little bit more, forcing his body to jerk. He let out a loud laugh and I fell on the bed beside him with a wet grin. "I love you," he said lazily.

"I love you too."

I shot my own load back in reality at that point, eyes rolling to the back of my skull as I tried my best not to let the blue and red splotches make me forget his face. After I cleaned up my mess I lay there by myself, staring at the empty pillow next to me. Why did it

have

to be empty? Damn that

Better Homes & Gardens

for only showing beds with

two

pillows on it. Unless it's a twin or a full, it better have two pillows.

It wasn't until after eleven that I heard his keys jingling the doorknob. I decided to unlock and open the door for him, to let him know I was awake and wanting to hear about his night. The shit-eating grin and glow in his cheeks made me want to slam the door right back in his face, but I digress.

"I take it things went well?" I asked with a small laugh.

Jamie walked in and stripped off his coat, placing it on the rack and fixing a glass of water. "Oh yeah. Sabrina's great."

"Yeah, she's

something

, isn't she?" I asked through tight lips. Obviously, the good side of me was nowhere to be found.

He blew air from his mouth. "I haven't been on a date in two months. There's definitely something there. We are going out again tomorrow."

I said nothing. Inside, though, I was dying.

And sure enough, they went out again the next night. And the next night. And two nights after that. If there was a rule about not coming across as 'too eager,' these two morons were oblivious to it. She was constantly fighting the urge to bring his name up to me at work, and he was running around the house dusting shit to keep himself distracted. Gag. Meanwhile, I'm alone in bed at night unable to shake the thought of him from my mind. His chiseled face, his deep voice, his brilliant little mind.

I loved him. Plain and simple. I loved him.

And I realized that living with him was too hard. We were too close, physically as well as metaphorically, for me to move on and let those feelings pass. The only solution I had was to tell him how I felt and suggest he find a new place to live. I didn't want to, and the thought of doing either of those things tore me apart inside. I was going to lose my best friend and he was probably going to hate me. But I needed sleep, I needed to eat, and I needed to study. He made all of those things difficult for me because he insisted on consuming every thought of mine.

I made my decision—I was going to tell him. But when?

____

Thanks to everyone for reading the first chapter, being patient, and offering constructive criticism—even if I didn't agree with it entirely. This one was longer. As for juicy story drama, that is yet to come. ;)