Brazilian Lounge

fourteen.

Chapter fourteen.

I remembered the smile plastered on my face as I fell asleep. Turns out I'm into nonchalant, easy-going women.

The night before went smoothly, Ms America knew about my feelings for her, and she didn't full on reject me; which lead me to question why she rejected me before. Things went so smoothly with her that something felt out of place with everything feeling right at the same time. Although, I didn't mind the confusion at all.

Things went from fine to fantastic.

After ending a twenty minute long phone call with Marcos, I got a text message from Ms America asking me if she could come over to my place that day. I've always thought Americans had that 'rule' where you had to wait a certain amount of time to get back to someone. I shouldn't be complaining, anyway.

I welcomed her to my humble abode, not once asking her why she wanted to "hangout". I made the both of us fine cups of coffee, which brought up her questioning of a Nespresso machine, "It's, like, way more than just coffee, you know? It's, like, heaven and, like, cloud nine in your mouth," her sudden habit of saying 'like' didn't faze me at all as I was too busy focusing on how her mouth formed to get certain sounds out. I loved the way her lips moved, and how the corners of them made her cheeks almost touch her eyes when she laughed.

After a while, we started drinking expensive Muratie wine.

"So, are those your friends?" I asked at 18:18. We stared into each other's eyes on the couch, with my elbow against the top of the cushion allowing my head to tilt and rest on my right hand. She looked down for a second, a small smile hanging on her lips. "Did you hide because you didn't want me to know you're a hipster?" She laughed at my joke.

"Rule one of being a hipster: never admit you're a hipster," she gave me a playful wink.

"You're funny," I stated in an overdramatic tone, mocking the facial expression of a hyperbolically shocked person. She laughed slightly harder as she poked my left arm, mouthing 'shut up'. "No, seriously," I started when the laughter died down. "They seem...okay," I chuckled again, but stopped when she spoke.

"They're not...they're not my friends," the atmosphere shifted a bit, almost discreetly. Something was telling me that she wasn't completely comfortable discussing them. I expected her to carry on speaking, but she didn't.

"Well, do you have friends?" I tried to lighten the mood. Her smile broadened. "What? Did you kill them all?" I widened my eyes playfully.

She narrowed her eyes at me while she held back a laugh. Suddenly, her whole face morphed into Pia's. Too much wine? Too much wine.

Then a thought crossed my mind.

At 19:30 Ms America had to go home. It was pleasant spending most of the day with her, going through my old photo albums, but a thought didn't leave my mind. I had to seek help...

...so, I phone-called Marcos.

I explained everything about what I had with Pia, which was starting to confuse me, and what I had with Ms America, which was also a bit of a mystery. I didn't really have anything with either of them, but it felt as if I did.

I wasn't being unfaithful. I wasn't being unfaithful. I'm not being unfaithful. I am faithful. I am loyal. I am faithful.

"You might no commitment with them, but maybe one day you will and then? And then...you gon' have to choose, you can' be unfaithful always, see? But for now...why no threesome?" He laughed.

I'm still single, I'm still free, I'm still loyal and I'm still me. Hell yeah, that rhymed. I smiled to myself. A menage a trois? Oh. A menage a trois with Pia and Ms America... I let my mind wander into a fantasy.