Just What I Needed

"Wow," said Danny. "You can--kind of--see it all from here."

"Oh, stop," I said. The view wasn't really that great, mostly blocked by hills and other apartment buildings, and the neighborhood wasn't the best either.

"No really, I'd love to have a place like this."

"You could always save up and just do it like I did. Have you thought about what you're doing after you graduate?" Danny was still a senior, albeit in his final semester.

He sighed, which I expected; he'd never really liked talking about his future, always avoiding the conversation when it came up.

"It's okay, Danny, we don't have to--"

"No," he interrupted, "it's okay. I'm honestly not looking forward to all the responsibility, you know? It's so easy to skate by in high school, but I don't want to leech off of mom and dad anymore. They keep pushing community college, but..." he trailed off.

"But what?"

He shrugged. "You seem to be doing really well without it is all. I'd kill to have my own place, and you have a great boyfriend to boot; things seem to be falling into place for you."

I nudged him, turning my head to give him a look of disapproval. "Danny, I'm a waitress. If I could go back to... is that cologne?"

I saw Danny turn ten shades of red, his cheeks stark against the rest of his pale skin. I couldn't help but find it sweet. He had tried so hard for the shindig that wasn't until next week, and especially after breaking up with his girlfriend. I wondered what he had been expecting, to hook up with one of my friends? I had an inkling of who it might be, but I shook it off.

"I was wondering when you'd notice. Sorry about that."

"Sorry for what? It's nice. Don't be so hard on yourself." I nudged him again with my shoulder and took a drink. I looked down at it before continuing. "And you know, I'm not really even sure Michael is that great a boyfriend after all."

"What do you mean? Is it the music stuff? He's still hoping to make it big in the underground rock scene?"

"It isn't, not really. If that's what he's passionate about, that's fine, it's just... sometimes he doesn't seem very passionate about me."

"Rebecca, I'm pretty sure he cares about you. He wouldn't have made such a big commitment with you like this place if he didn't."

"I know he cares about me, that's not it." This was more than I had ever told my brother about any guy I'd dated. "He just, I just, we..." Where was I going with this? I took another drink before blurting out, "He doesn't like being rough with me."

"What." Danny was completely deadpan.

"I finally worked up the nerve to ask him if he'd get more physical with me sometimes, but he says he's just not comfortable with it." Why was I still talking? "He says he's afraid he's going to hurt me, and tells me I should just drop it."

"Sis, this is probably too much information." He was blushing again, and while I should have been mortified that I had just spilled something majorly private, I was more amused I had gotten a rise out of him.

"I mean, you know what it's like, right? To be really into it with someone, and I don't know, maybe you start to spank her or something. You've been with girls before, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure we--"

"So you know what I'm saying!"

Daniel went silent, turned, and just stared at me, still looking surprised at where I had taken things. I was a little surprised too, but I stared right back, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on my face. We looked into each others eyes, neither one of us wanting to back down.

"Rough?" he said.

"Rough," I affirmed.

"What, like this?" Before I could think, he had put his can down on the railing and his hands went for my armpits. Thankfully, my can was empty, because it went flying straight to the ground as I tried to squirm out of his grasp, but he was too fast, too strong. I dashed into the bedroom to try to get away from him, laughing hysterically, screaming for him to stop, but his arms pulled at my sides keeping me from getting very far from him. I almost elbowed him in the face, but he seemed to dodge it and just kept at me.

Eventually I realized there was no hope trying to get away, so I turned to him and went right for his armpits too. Two could play at this game.

"Oh no you fucking don't!" he said, laughing all the while, making a grab at my wrists and eventually succeeding. We grappled at the foot of the bed before I managed to force him back onto the bed with a bounce, and when he tried to get back up I threw myself on top of him, straddling him on either side.

I had him pinned. He kept trying to get his arms up, but he was laughing too hard and it was keeping him weak. I held down his wrists above his head. Breathing heavily through an open grin, he looked up at me through the few inches between us with his short, tousled brown hair mixing with my own long brown waves as they fell all around his face.

I was frozen. I was catching my breath too, but my brain had stopped working. Somewhere between my dress being hiked up like it was while straddling my brother and the physical altercation we'd just engaged in with its conversational context, I couldn't quite piece together what I was feeling with the look I started to see in his eyes. I felt him rustle his hips involuntarily, and suddenly things didn't seem as innocent. I didn't know what to do. My face and thighs were burning, and for the first time since he arrived at my door earlier that evening, I felt scared. Of what, I wasn't sure.

I looked down to his lips and back up to his eyes for a moment too long, thinking and not thinking, when I caught an urge in motion just a moment too late, my head dipping infinitesimally toward him before I stopped myself cold. I prayed that he hadn't noticed. Eventually I just pushed myself back up into more of a sitting position, freeing his arms. I pushed my hair back over my head with a sweeping motion and looked down at him.

"Yeah," I eventually said. "Like that." I lifted one leg and spun off the bed. "I have to pee," I said weakly and went out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, leaving him lying back at the foot of my bed, legs still draped over the side.

After a few moments of looking at myself in the mirror, I realized with some amusement that I did in fact have to pee. I lowered my leggings and took a seat, mind racing. What was I going to do when I went back out? Should I even say anything? No matter how strongly I knew the answer was a resounding No, there was a tiny voice in the background urging me to talk to him about it. I couldn't think straight, and I decided to blame it on the beer.

When I went back out, Daniel solved my problem for me.

"Well I think I've had enough," he said, loading the rest of the case into the fridge.

"Yeah," I agreed, "I think we both have."

He stood up and went over to the couch where he had tossed his blazer. "I should probably get going," he said. "It's almost one, and the last bus home should be coming soon."

"Jesus, it's already one?" I said, looking over at the oven timer. It was, and I realized he was right.

"I had a lot of fun tonight," he said, something in his voice expressing caution, uncertainty. He pulled on his blazer.

"I did too. Really. I hope you don't disappear on me; I'd hate for you to make yourself a stranger." Standing there half-looking at each other felt awkward, and I realized I was being stupid. Things didn't have to be awkward, and I was just making things worse. "Aw, c'mere," I said.

I leaned in for a hug, which he returned.

"Thanks again for coming," I said softly. "I'm glad I wasn't alone tonight." I felt him move his head and plant a kiss against my hair on the side of my head. It was a sweet gesture, and it made me feel warm.

"No problem," he said. "I'm glad I'm such a fuck-up."

I pulled away and batted him on the chest. "You're not a fuck-up. Now get out of here or you'll miss your bus."

I held the door open for him and watched him leave. I closed it after him, leaned my back against the door, and looked around at my apartment.

* * * * *

Michael spent a lot more time at home over the next week, so when I wasn't working I was spending time with him. We unpacked some more boxes and decorated a bit, and it felt good to have him around. I checked my phone a lot more often than I usually would have; I didn't want to be the one to text him first, but for some reason I still wanted to hear from Danny. The other night was still on my mind, sometimes coming intrusively out of nowhere. Spending time with him had been a lot of fun, and I just wanted everything to be normal, but something was prodding at the back of my mind that I didn't want to think about. I kept myself distracted with Michael.

The sex was good. It felt dirty and exhilarating being fucked in rooms like the kitchen, and I felt a pang of worry the whole time as if we were going to be caught. I was still so used to living at home that the new privacy felt freeing. We did break in the new place a bit more, but what I said to Daniel about Michael not wanting to get rough with me was true. Sometimes while we were kissing I'd take his hand and move it into position over my ass and try to push it against me quickly as if in a slap. All I got from him was a smile and half-laugh through the kisses accompanied by some groping, which was nice, but not everything I needed. All in all, though, I couldn't really complain... except that I had. To Danny.

Friday night quickly approached, and when it finally arrived, I found myself nervous. After work, I came home and started the final preparations for our guests. Michael was off early that night at seven, and when he arrived he brought his semblance of a band in tow. They were a ragtag bunch, more tattoos among them than they had talent, but they seemed friendly and helpful despite their constant bullshitting. I was a little peeved Michael had brought people over early without letting me know, but I let it go. I went to change, and checked my phone. No messages.

As the night went on, more people arrived; Marci and Allison showed up together fashionably late, and so did Jeremy, my favorite coworker (and by far the most gay one). A couple more of Michael's friends made appearances, but every time I'd open the door I'd feel a little more worried. Where was he? After about an hour of just chatting and hanging out, I caved and pulled out my phone again.

"Are you coming tonight?" I texted. Jerron (one of Michael's "band"-mates) had an acoustic guitar out that he'd brought, and I plunked down on the loveseat next to him while he noodled.

"Hey B," he said. "Cool party."

"Thanks," I said absently. But he was actually right. People seemed to be talking and laughing, the music and food were hits, there was free beer, and people didn't seem to be getting too rowdy. I actually got along with most of the people there. I should be having a good time. My phone buzzed and I tapped the new message.

"I can't make it." That was all it said. As my eyes narrowed at the message and I tried to think of a response, a new one arrived. "I'm kind of down. :/"

"You've been checking that thing all evening," said Jerron. Had I been that obvious?

"Just someone that was supposed to come," I said.

"Uh oh, is Mikey gonna be jealous?" he teased.

"Unlikely," I said. "Just my brother. Really hoped he could make it." Jerron nodded and deflected an incoming partygoer stumbling his way. I glanced up at Marci, standing over by the kitchen talking to Jeremy. She'd been bugging me all evening, asking me where Danny was, and it had only exasperated my frustration. I knew she had the hots for him, and I suspected they may have made out at some point in high school, but even though she was my friend I knew she wasn't very nice to her boyfriends. Maybe it wasn't so bad he couldn't come.

I texted, "Is something wrong? :("

Of course something was wrong. He thought things were weird now and didn't want anything to do with me. Why else would he not text the whole previous week? There was so much uncertainty, and I had kept telling myself that maybe just seeing his face, seeing him talk to people and have fun or whatever, that would set my mind at rest.

As my mind was buzzing, so did my phone. "Nothing bad just... ill make it up to you ok? Sorry I couldn't come." That was helpful.

I typed, "Wish you were here," and before I could think about it I hit send, immediately cringing at the sappiness. I started typing again, "Haha just kidding" and hit send, almost smacking myself on the forehead at how ridiculous I was being. I took a breath and started typing again, glancing up to see Michael eyeing me and starting to come toward me. I managed to send, "well don't be a stranger! :)" before Michael got to me and handed me a beer. I took it and put my phone down.

"What's up, Becky?" he asked worriedly. I pulled him down next to me on the couch, squeezing Jerron off in the process, and planted a big kiss on his cheek.

"I have no idea what's wrong with me today," I said, taking a drink from the bottle he'd handed me. When his face didn't change, I said, "Don't worry about it Mike, I'll be fine. Just feeling weird is all."

Weird is exactly how I felt. I decided not to worry about it for the rest of the night and went back to the party. Everyone was happy for me, for us, and it was universally agreed that it wasn't a bad place.

It was late by the time the last people stumbled out and we finally had the place to ourselves again. I headed to the kitchen to start to clean up when I felt Michael's hands slip around my waist from behind.

"And what do you think you're doing, Missy?" I felt him whisper in my ear. He kissed it, and said, "I'll take care of this, you're getting up early for work." I smiled, turned around, and kissed him on the lips. I thanked him, and went off toward the bedroom, where I collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

I should be so grateful, I thought to myself. My life's going so well right now. I have everything I could ask for.

I held my phone up to my face and saw I had a text from Danny.

"I'll try not to be :-/"

I wasn't sure what to make of that.

* * * * *

My shift ended at 3:30 the next day, and after I clocked out I checked my phone to find I had a missed call from my mom and a voicemail. I tapped it to listen while I started to walk home.

"Rebecca! You're way past your curfew!" Ha ha, Mom. "I'm just kidding, honey. How are things at your new place? I heard you had your apartment-warming, how did that go? Danny was moping around the house last night, and when I asked he said he just wasn't up to a party. You know how he can get sometimes, always something on his mind. Anyway. Becky, the reason I'm calling is because--now don't hate me, you're always welcome here and you know that--I was going through your old room, trying to see what was left and whether we'd want to do something with the space--" Already? "--when I found a box packed up in the bottom of your closet. It's labeled for the move, I think it was just left behind somehow. Now I know what you're thinking, but no, I didn't open it, and I am sending Danny your way this afternoon to drop it off at your new place. I think it'd be good for him. He'll be taking my car since your father and I are heading to the cabin for the weekend. Oh sweetie, I'm so proud of you! I'll--" I heard a couple of beeps, probably her hand or face on the keypad or something, and that was the end of the message. Oh, Mom.

My stomach started into a knot. I kept walking, trying to enjoy the sunshine on my face, when all of a sudden a few cool drops hit me and I realized it was starting to rain. Even though it was blue and sunny in half of the sky, here I was caught in the rain from the other half. Typical. I picked up my pace, reached into my bag for an umbrella I had forgotten to pack, and reluctantly submitted to my damp fate.

By the time I got home, my hair was soggy and my white work blouse was clinging to me. As I came around the back of my building, I noticed Mom's car sitting among others in the back lot. I saw a figure in the driver's side and I felt a tenseness in my chest. I took a breath and walked over to it, tapping on the rain-covered window.

Danny had been sitting in the car, staring straight ahead. When I tapped, he started, looked at me, and smiled. He opened the door and stepped out.

"Were you just gonna sit out here waiting for me?" I said.

"Thinkin' about it. I like the sound of rain on the roof."

"You're such a weirdo," I said, awkwardly punching his arm. "Can we get out of the rain now?"

He looked confused for a second, and only then seemed to notice how soaked I was. "Jesus, look at you! Sure, sure." He walked around to the trunk, opened it, and took out a single cardboard box labeled "Becky" and hefted it up in his arms.

He wasn't dressed for the weather either, just jeans and a graphic tee, so I led the way up the outside stairs, jingling my keychain in one hand. I cleared a space on our little table and he put the box down and went to close the door behind us. It was still dark in the apartment, and there was a cool blue glow that filled it from through the thin blinds. Even though his walk in the rain was much shorter than mine, his shirt was clinging now too.

We stood there, maybe ten feet apart, for what felt like too long. I was waiting for him to say something first, but he must have been waiting for me too. When I did finally speak up, he started to talk at the exact same time.

"What?" I asked.

"Just, don't you want to go change? You're awfully..." He trailed off and motioned to me with his hand. I looked down and saw that my bra, which was purple, was clearly visible through my shirt. I took off my messenger bag and dropped it to the floor.

"What, you don't like the look?" He stuttered over his words, so I interrupted. "It's my new style, 'Damp Tramp', what do you think?" I struck a few poses. That made him laugh, and I laughed out of nervousness as I walked to the bedroom. "Make yourself at home," I called out, closing the door behind me.

I pulled off my work clothes and threw on denim cutoffs and a tank, my standard fare for lounging, and walked barefoot back into the main room. I found my brother in the fridge, his head down and his ass sticking out. I told him to grab me a soda, and he brought two out and put them on the island.

"Where were you last night?"

Daniel shrugged, looking tense. "I was just in a funk."

I didn't know whether to push it any further. Part of me--a big part of me--wanted to. I felt like there was something building here and that not seeing him last night only made it worse. But the rest of me, the part that won out, was happy he was here now. So I said so.

"I'm glad you could come by," I said, instantly regretting it. I took a drink of my soda, wishing it were something stronger.

"I'm feeling a lot better now," I heard him say.

"That's good I guess. You didn't miss much anyway, but I'm still glad I had it. It's nice to be reminded that you have people in your life, you know?"

He motioned to the roses he had brought. "I bet people loved these," he said sarcastically. They were dry and wilting.

"Oh yeah, really brightened up the place."

"You know, you can throw them out. I won't be offended. I mean, they are dead."

"Hey, my place, my rules. I'll throw 'em out when I'm good and ready." I walked over to the box he had placed on the table. "Now what's in the mystery box?"

He didn't respond, so I found a little bit of tape sticking up on one side and pulled it off, taking some of the cardboard with it. I opened the flaps and examined the contents. There was a bundle of opened letters secured with a rubber band, a few books, and my modest DVD collection.

"Oh sweet, an actual use for the TV," I said, holding up the DVDs and perusing the titles.