Page 4 of Best Friend Burden

And, to be honest, I didn't miss it. Parties were loud and obnoxious. There was a comfort in the predictability of normal life that I appreciated. It wasn't particularly exciting, but I didn't want to do anything particularly exciting anyway. My heart beat at a steady rate throughout the day, elevating a bit when I went for a job and decreasing slightly when I went to bed.

I enjoyed it and didn't want to go back.

At least not until I ran into Melody.

Melody was bad news for me. Back in high school, we were the best of friends who brought out the worst in each other. But that worst wasn’t always a bad thing. In fact, it was usually pretty fun. I got her drunk for the first time and she was the one who got me into partying harder. I always sort of had a thing for her, and we even made out once in a game of Truth or Dare, but nothing ever came of it because, at the time, I didn't have the swagger to actually make a move.

And, if anything about me has improved since high school, it's my swagger.

She looked even better than I remembered, with that irresistible smile that could just turn your insides to jelly and that body... good lord, that body.

Was I betraying Wendy by inviting her over? No, of course not. It was just a friendly get-together between two old friends — two oldbestfriends — or at least that's what I was telling myself. Because secretly, deep down, I knew I wanted her badly. A year and change was a long time, and it still felt weird to wake up in the morning without Wendy beside me, but it was also long enough to at least consider trying to move on. It’s what she would have wanted. After all, she was a selfless person without a jealous bone in her body. Yet another reason I felt like she was too good for me.

We even spoke once, the two of us, late one night in a post-coital spooning session, what would we want if the other one passed. Wendy told me she'd want me to be happy, and she'd hate for me to be going through life alone. It made me realize how genuinely good a person she was because of the truth in her voice.

I mirrored the sentiment back to her, but I wasn't sure I believed it even though I was certain that she did. Part of me felt a little weird for not putting any effort across to find someone else, but I was too focused on making that other wish of hers come true: my sobriety.

Because those two desires were at odds with each other. Dating would involve going to bars, being around alcohol, and potentially even worse.

And Melody offered a similar temptation.

When I got back to my apartment, I went straight to my bathroom mirror to look at myself.

“Just a friendly dinner,” I said, hoping that saying the words aloud would help them sink in. “We'll eat, catch up, and go our separate ways. She won't be staying over.”

I stared at myself sternly, then repeated, “She won't be staying over.” This time, I said it with a firm confidence, like a father establishing rules before he left his son home alone for the first time.

The buzzer from downstairs interrupted my pep talk, and I pressed the button to allow Melody up to the apartment. She came in and gave me an immediate hug, putting her whole body into it. God, she smelled good. And felt good, too.

“Kiefer,” she said, “it's so good to see you!”

She didn't release the hug right away. Instead, she stayed there holding me tighter and tighter, leaving me to wonder if she'd ever let go.

Already, I doubted my ability to stick to the promise I made myself in the mirror just seconds earlier. If I got even the slightest indication of interest from her, I’d feel powerless.

It was just like the drugs, though, I was stronger than I thought. All I had to do was resist long enough and the desire would go away.

Or at least that's what I was telling myself. Over and over again. How did we get through high school without ever hooking up?

“It's good to see you, too,” I said, awkwardly patting her on the back like a weird, nervous robot man.God, this was already terrible.I changed the subject immediately and released her like an ejection seat from my body.

“You good with burgers? I was going to grill some on the balcony.”

The smile dropped from her face, and I wondered what I could have said that was wrong.

“Meat burgers?” she asked.

“Oh right,” I said. "You're vegetarian.”

It was amazing how it had felt like no time since we'd seen each other, but it had been more than ten years and I'd forgotten something as simple about her as the number one thing she prides herself on.

“Vegan now, actually,” she said, blushing. “I try not to make a big thing out of it. To try not to be one ofthosevegans, you know?”

“I don't know, no.”

“It's an old joke,” she said, “An atheist, vegan, and cross fit athlete walk into a bar. How do you know? Because it's the first thing they say when they walk in.”

I'd had friends who were into cross fit. She wasn't wrong.

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