Page 26 of Best Friends, Tennessee

Was he trying to avoid me?

I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned the blow job I’d gotten from another guy. Ori had been acting different ever since, and for once, I felt like hewasn’tsaying everything that was on his mind.

“Sure you don’t want to watch a littleBritish Bakingfirst?” I offered. “They just put all the seasons back up on streaming. It’s been a while since I watched British people laugh and cry while they put frosting on cakes.”

“Too tired,” Ori said.

Fuck that.

I was sick of feeling like Ori was a glorified hotel guest in my house.

As if we didn’t shareyears and yearsof fucking history together.

I wanted…him.

I wanted to feel like I knew him, again. Like I could mean it when I told people he was my friend.

I’d thought theBaking Showoffer would have been a surefire bet. Ori and I had both always loved any cooking or baking show. We’d watch them and try to imitate people’s voices or demeanors from the show, and he loved my shitty impressions of British accents.

It was time for a Hail Mary.

“Come on,” I said. “Cuddle with me. I’m lonely.”

He gave me a look from the kitchen that was something between a death glare and a look of pity. As if I’d said something wrong. “Need to go to bed. See you.”

He was gone a moment later, taking his glass of water off to the guest room.

That was another thing Ori used to fucking love.

He used to call me his “straight guy teddy bear.” He loved teasing me that he wanted to cuddle up while watching shows. I used to act like it pissed me off, and half the time I’d end up shoving him away and we’d get in fights, instead.

But I’d never disliked sharing the couch with him.

I missed when we were younger and we’d play video games on his parents’ big sofa, the sides of our bodies shoved up against one another as we gripped our controllers and battled it out in the games.

Some sick feeling of guilt rolled through my chest as I reached for the TV remote, turning it off.

Maybe we’d lost that sense of closeness a long time ago.

But it sure felt really fucking fresh all over again now.

He didn’t want what I wanted. He didn’t want to rekindle jack shit. He wanted to hate the way I looked, the way I acted, and the only thing he seemed toenjoywas fighting with me.

I wanted to tease him. To feel like he was… I don't know.

My person, again.

I exhaled, getting up and padding over toward the kitchen. I grabbed a jar of homemade caramel that Christina had left here, pouring some into a pan on the stove.

I stirred until the caramel was hot and bubbly, then cut the heat. I drizzled it over some vanilla ice cream.

I ate alone while standing over the kitchen counter.

I was fuckingpissedat him.

Ori didn’t seem to need me for anything, now. Back then, I always felt like I had to protect him. In high school I’d constantlycovered for him, telling teachers that the only reason he didn’t show up for class that day was because he was sick—not that most of the teachers ever believed it.

And when my football teammates would say Ori was weird, I’d always try to brush it off, saying he was just shy.

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