Page 51 of Someone Like You

“Okay.” She kissed him on the cheek and left him alone in the pantry, just him and his demons and twenty-four cans of Pepsi to arrange.

He had an appointment with Ian in the afternoon to make up with the run they’d skipped in the morning. In many ways, Ian was just like Abby: intuitive and responsive to the abrupt shifts in Phil’s mood, always willing to roll with whatever Phil brought to the table on any given day. If Phil was chatty, they chatted; if Phil was cranky, Ian would attempt a joke or two and then establish whether it was the right tactic or not according to Phil’s reaction.

Today was a grumpy day. They met at the fountain and greeted each other with very manly nods before diving straight into a warm-up jog. Phil was very grateful to the autumnal temperature for forcing Ian to go from sleeveless tops to full hoodies. It was much less distracting and more forgiving to Phil’ssensitivity. The last time Ian had stripped his t-shirt off to give himself a freshen up under the fountain, Phil had had to fake a cramp to sit down and hide the bulge in his shorts. He didn’t know why a shirtless man had this effect on him and his gorgeous naked girlfriend didn’t. If he had to be completely honest, with Abby he had never felt the ferocious drive he felt with Ian.

The first time he’d slept with her had been after an awful date where nothing had turned out right: the restaurant had lost their reservation, the rebound restaurant had sucked, and the fireworks they’d planned to watch on a blanket at the park had been cancelled because of a storm. Back at Abby’s place, they’d thrown their rain-drenched clothes into the drier, planning to have a drink to warm themselves up, but they’d ended up making love on top of the washing machine instead. Thinking back of that night, Phil couldn’t recall any heat pooling in his crotch, clouding his sanity. What hecouldremember was the overwhelming love he’d felt while kissing Abby and how natural it had felt to go all the way with her.

That was a sentiment he couldn’t seem to retrieve, no matter how hard he tried. The love was still there, bigger and stronger than ever, but it lacked that fiery intensity that took over him when he was around Ian. Even something as innocent as a pat on the back could trigger an immediate response in Phil’s body, which was thrilling, per se, but nonetheless confusing.

Back home, under the shower, he wondered what it’d feel like to have Ian touching him the way he craved to be touched, kissing his neck, his shoulders, his lips…

It must be funny to kiss someone who had a beard. Phil often imagined splaying his hands on Ian’s chest and letting them explore the hefty pecs, stroking the unfamiliar texture of the dark hair, fondling every inch of muscles while Ian—

He stifled a moan, pressing his forehead against the glass. He couldn’t go on like this.

His knees were still wobbly and his sight blurry when he sneaked out of the bathroom. Abby was downstairs, but his guilty conscience was unforgiving, keeping him on his toes even if he had no reason to be. After slipping on a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt, he joined Abby in the living room, where everything was ready for their typical Saturday night dinner: pizza and fries in front of a random trash movie on Netflix.

“Smells good in here,” he said, peering into the pizza box to check the toppings: grilled vegetables and mushrooms. A slice was already missing.

“I swear it was delivered like that!” Abby exclaimed.

Phil smirked. “Poor delivery guy must’ve been hungry.”

He sat down on the couch with the pizza box as Abby snuggled up at his side, pulling the top of the box to her lap in lieu of a tablecloth, and stole her second slice. Phil didn’t catch the title of the movie, nor was he able to make out what it was about. Despite his best efforts to be companionable, his mind was elsewhere. That was, at least, until the two protagonists of the movie inevitably ended up in bed together. He couldn’t see himself in thepossessiveness of the man’s actions, in how rough and greedy he was in undressing and touching the woman everywhere.

But if it’d been a man?

No. Just any man wouldn’t have worked.

“Don’t you miss it?”

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, but didn’t shock Abby as much as they shocked him. Without tearing her eyes off the screen, she stuffed a couple fries into her mouth and asked: “What?”

“Sex.”

Abby chewed calmly. “Not really. I can take care of myself just fine.”

Such an Abby response. Disarming frankness was one of her countless qualities — something else she and Ian had in common. The same couldn’t be said about Phil, who, after four decades of people pleasing, still had a hard time choosing honesty over the other person’s comfort. That was actually what had drawn him to Abby in the first place: he felt safe with her, he didn’t have to tear everything she said apart to decipher the hidden meanings. If she said yes, it was yes; if she said no, it was no. If she said she didn’t miss sex, she didn’t miss it.

“Not even a little bit?”

“I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”

Phil wasn’t sure, either. “So we’re gonna get married and just skip marital duties?”

“Why not? We don’t even want children. I don’t see the problem here.”

“You don’t see the problem.”

“I really don’t.”

Phil closed the empty pizza box and tossed it on the coffee table. “We haven’t slept together in ages and you don’t see the problem.”

Now he was making it sound like it washerfault. What a hypocrite.

Unimpressed, Abby rested her head back on the cushion. “Is that a problem foryou?”

“No, but I don’t count, do I?” Too harsh, again.

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