Friends

Part 9

"How come they don't put a lot of marshmallows in cereals?" Ricky complains as he picks through a box of Lucky Charms, and you shrug your shoulders as you open the stove, leaning down to grab the long dish out; you hoped this would fill the guys up halfway, at least.

If not, they could order pizza again for dinner.

You glance over towards the living room as you set the deep dish onto the stove, seeing the rest of them playing Xbox or strewn on the couch, Chris using his laptop at your desk as he works on something.

The two of you still hadn't talked about the other night.

You'd slept together - twice - and then spent the whole next day pretending that it had never happened. And now, today, it was still like that.

Chris had even slept in Devins room again.

You weren't sure what was going on.

He'd been acting weird since last night.

Had it been your comment about kids?

You'd been wracking your brain for hours, but you couldn't figure out what it was.

You sigh silently as you close the oven door, and feel Ricky nudge your hip with his foot, he perched on top of your counters as he watched you cook.

"Hmm?"

"Don't have a long face," he says quietly, and your eyes flick to his, seeing he was gazing at you, almost knowingly. "He's probably just as confused as you are."

"Ricky," you roll your eyes at him.

"What? It's true. You guys have been friends for so long, he doesn't know what to do next, that's what I figure," he tosses a handful of marshmallows into his mouth. "I mean, that's what you're worried about, right? What it means for your relationship?"

"I'm fine, thanks, Dr. Phil."

You weren't about to admit how worried you were.

What if when Chris left, he avoided you from now on? What if he felt too awkward around you and didn't want to talk to you anymore?

You feel your stomach start to drop.

What if he didn't even want to be friends?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dude," Balz kicks the rolly chair Chris sits in, causing his friend to glare at him as his eyes flick from the screen of his laptop, busy answering emails from their manager.

"What?"

"Why the fuck you being so weird?" Balz scowls, rolling around in his own chair. "Why aren't you in there helping her with dinner?"

"Er, I asked, she said she didn't need help," Chris blinks at him.

"Why didn't you help anyway?" Balz huffs, glaring at him. "Dude, like, she wants you. Obviously. Go sweep her off her feet."

For fuck's sake.

Chris rolls his eyes, looking away from his friend. "Dude, no. It's not like that."

Balz frown deepens. "What's not fucking like that?"

Chris glances at him, chagrined.

"Are you telling me you don't like her like that?" Balz demands in a harsh whisper, sitting up straight in his chair, glaring. "You know she likes you, and you fuck her, and -."

Balz would punch him if that's how it really was; he really liked you, you were a good person and a great friend, and very nice for putting up with all of them for a full week.