Page 10 of Two’s Better

“I’ll do that. Maybe,” I hedged, but the idea had lodged its claws firmly into my brain and refused to let go.

I was still thinking about it when the events planner came outside, letting us know the congregation were on the way, and we quickly made our way inside the venue to get ready.

I was still thinking about it when the party was over, and Fiona, Bernice, and I tiredly got the bus back home.

I was still thinking about it after I’d taken a shower and curled up in bed, my heart pounding every time Uzezi sent me a text; we were almost always texting about something—what was trending online, uni work, our families and futures, silly memes and shit. But now, each time my phone buzzed, it made my heart leap into my throat, like he’d sense my thoughts somehow and ask me about it.

Was he still thinking about the question he’d asked me last night? Or had he firmly pushed it aside after my inadvertent rejection?

I was still thinking about it after we’d said our goodnights, and I was lying in the dark, trying to fall asleep. Heart pounding, face buried in my pillows, I tried to imagine his lips pressing against mine.

I mentally recoiled from the image, immediately weirded out. I knew people had sex for the sake of it; some did it for the connection, or the pleasure of the act, or whatever it was, all without necessarily being sexually attracted to the person they were having sex with. I knew it, but this was Uzezi. Uzi.

But I had to admit, I really, really liked the idea of us giving that to each other. As Uzezi had said, try as I might, I wanted my first experience with sex to be good. And Uzezi would make it good, just as I’d make sure to make it good for him, too. I had no doubts about that.

Well, then. I sighed, flopping onto my back.

There was no way around it. I was going to have to kiss my best friend.

4

“Knock, knock.”

My heart thudded against my ribs. Since I’d made my decision last night, I felt like I’d been walking on eggshells around Uzezi, which was probably why I’d bombed my presentation today. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I was maybe re-considering my career choice—in the final year of my degree, for fuck’s sake—and it was messing with my already terrible social anxiety.

I answered Uzezi with a comical groan, the sound muffled because my face was buried in my pillows. Fiona or Bernice must’ve let him in. He burst out laughing when he let himself into my room and spotted me lying flopped like a limp starfish across my bed.

“Come on, Fure. Was it really that bad?”

I didn’t bother lifting my head from the pillow. “Did you think I was joking when I said I literally dissociated? Stop that. Stop laughing at me.”

Uzezi stopped, but he still sounded highly amused when he said, “I think you did … fine.” The pause was telling.

I lifted my head so he could see and feel the full impact of my unimpressed glare. Then my eyes landed on the familiar bag he’d set on my desk, and every inch of me lit up. “Oh my God, did you buy burritos? I swear, I’m this close to handing you the soul of my first-born child.”

He snorted, settling himself into my desk chair. “I think a ‘thank you’ will do just fine.”

“Thank you,” I said earnestly.

He smiled, looking pleased. “You’re welcome.”

“Would I ever know what true happiness feels like if it weren’t for you?” I teased as I sat up.

“My friend, if you don’t shut up and eat your burrito.”

I laughed, shifting across my bed until I was perched on the edge closest to the desk. It never failed to stop being endearing how whenever either of us experienced even the slightest of inconveniences, we would head straight for food therapy; Uzezi ordered my favourites when I was stressed or upset, while I took my ass to the kitchen to cook for him when it was the other way around. To us, there was nothing a good meal couldn’t fix, and so far, we’d never been wrong.

“Mm,” I groaned after I took a bite. “Yes. This is exactly what the doctor ordered.”

“Now you’re milking it.”

“I’m doing no such thing.”

“Okay, but seriously, it really wasn’t that bad. You just needed a little more …”

“… everything?” I bemoaned dramatically.

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I was going to say a little more oomph. A little more ginger. A little je ne sais quoi.”