Page 61 of Spring Awakening

Zach wants to tell her more. Like how he’s bone tired, and the only thing he looks forward to is seeing her. That sometimes, he wishes he had the confidence to hug her. That he’s not religious but lately he’s been thinking there must be a higher being because how else does she exist? Maybe it’s her. That at nighttime he misses her so much that he dreams about a future where he doesn’t have to be away from her at all. Where they go to sleep in the same bed, and she wakes up and smiles at him. Then, he was thinking too hard, and children appeared, a housethey bought together, a ring on her finger, and now he’s too scared to be alone with his thoughts ever again.

But he can’t tell her that because they’re friends, and there’s no world that he’d ever deserve her as a friend, let alone more than that. Mali’s not dating. Well, he doesn’t think she’s dating. He’s terrified to ask, because how does he even mention that casually?Oh, Mali, I think I’m falling in love with you. By the way, off topic, are you dating anyone?It’s her fault his mind is obsessed with her. Her in yoga shorts and a top with his name on it is seared into his brain. Her in his socks with no wig on. Her in her dressing gown and a facemask. He’s not been this horny ever. He’s never touched himself as much as he has since he moved in. It’s driving him crazy.

Zach drives towards the house. The front room light is on, and he wonders if she pressed play on their show even though he’s twenty minutes late.

God, is he tired. Practice was awful. He wasn’t bad or anything, but the team was tired, and it was pissing down, and people were slipping around. Devon wants money, and his mum needs a new place to live, and he spent an hour trying to move around people at the shops to make his mum dinner, and he forgot to get the milk Mali asked for. He rests his forehead against his steering wheel. He’ll pop to the corner shop in a moment. If it were anyone else, he might pretend he forgot altogether. But it’s Mali, and it’s impossible for him to say no to Mali. But he just needs a minute.

The door cracks open, the hallway light seeping out onto the garden path. Zach looks up, and Mali is standing there in his jumper, holding Buffy and waving at him. God, she’s cute. It makes him smile for the first time since he saw her this morning.

“Hey,” he says, as he gets out of the car. His back aches from the driving, but it feels immediately better when he stretches.

“Hi. You okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, and he ushers her back into the house in case it gets too cold and she calls him out on it. She pops Buffy on the floor, who immediately worms his way around Zach’s legs. “You ever get somewhere and then have no energy to get out of the car?”

Mali hums as she walks to the kitchen. “Always.”

“I am happy to see you, though,” he replies, then bends down to stroke Buffy, who has decided he needs a cat stretch now. “Oh, big stretch!”

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving. I’m really sorry. I haven’t grabbed milk. I’ll run out after dinner.”

“That’s alright, I got it earlier.” When Zach walks into the kitchen, he sees the washing up away, dinner on the stove, and a bottle of milk next to the kettle. He almost weeps.

“I was supposed to do this,” he says, his voice quieter than it has been in a while. They decided on a loose rota after he’d been living with her a couple weeks. He puts the washing up away because he creates the most mess with his breakfast meal prep. Mali writes the shopping list. Zach takes the bins out. Mali hangs out the washing. It’s been working well, but today he slipped up. “It’s my day.”

“Yeah,” Mali replies, leaning against the kitchen counter. Her hair is freshly done, and she’s in those fucking shorts. She’s so pretty. Unsettlingly pretty.He wants to kiss her, touch her, love herpretty. “But you had a shitty practice, and you went to see houses today, so I knew you had to take care of everyone else.”

“So what?” he asks. He’s supposed to take care of her too.

“So I wanted to care of you.”

He doesn’t kiss her, because he doesn’t think she’d like that, and he doesn’t want to do anything to ruin this small piece of happiness. The slice that gets bigger with every smile she gives him, with every time that her toes touch his thigh to get him topay attention to the television show, with every hum of her voice in the shower. But he does pull her into his arms, and he’s almost certain she was more than willing to go. His hands encase her back, and she hooks her arms around his waist.

Zach sighs, his cheek resting against the top of her head. He can’t believe this is the first time he’s hugged her properly. What a waste of his life, to not have been touching her. He cups the back of her neck with his palm, holding her as close as he can without straddling her on the kitchen floor. Her fingers trail up and down his spine, and with every flutter of her eyelashes against his chest, everything makes sense.

The oven beeps, and he almost throws it into the garden, but Mali shifts, and he guesses if she’s made dinner, he can at least be human enough to not ruin it for her. Before she leaves, he presses his lips to her forehead.

Mali keeps looking at him, but she hasn’t said anything. He took their plates out and made a tea, and she didn’t say anything. He got an answer wrong on their quiz, and she didn’t say anything. He feels like he’s turning inside out.

“Zach,” she says. It’s not a question, but he replies all the same.

“Yeah?”

“Have you had sex since you moved in?”

Zach’s chest caves in. Not because she’s asking him about sex and he doesn’t want to tell her. More because the only thoughtshe’s had about touching anyone, looking at anyone, being attracted to anyone, centre around her.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she follows up, the blush rising on her cheeks though she pretends not to be affected. “I tried to talk to Frankie about it the other day, but I don’t know.”

Zach tries his hardest not to moan when he thinks about how long he thought about her standing behind him the other day. How he traced the crease of her bum in her shorts. How many times he’s fucked his fist to the thought of her praising him in bed.

He swallows. “You guys don’t girl talk?”

Mali glares at him, and he wonders if girl talk isn’t the right phrase anymore. “I don’t know. I like her a lot, but there’s of personal stuff within it. I’m sure I will at some point. Girl talk is fun.”

She feels comfortable with him. That’s why she’s asking him, and it makes him feel like he’s on fire. Even if he’s going to hear about her sex life and become a homicidal maniac if she tells him there’s anyone at work she wants to fuck. He wouldn’t do anything, obviously. He loves—likesher enough to want her to be happy. It doesn’t have to be with him.

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