Bisexual in Manhattan (boyxboy & lesbian stories)

seven | water cooler woes

"I think your heels are too high," Harry confesses.

He's sitting on my bed in his boxer shorts, helping me decide on an outfit for my first day as an intern at Seventeen Magazine. After a few days of living in the new apartment, atlas all of the boxes are unpacked and my room looks livable and posh. I stare at myself in the over-sized mirror that I have next to my closet. It's literally gigantic, hitting the floor and nearly reaching the ceiling. I like big mirrors, they give me the illusion that I'm more petite than I really am.

I'm wearing a white button down blouse that's tucked into a black mini skirt, and a matching black floppy tie around the collar of my neck. The heels, which are about six inches high, complete my look. Do I even need to mention that I have on my signature cat ears?

"Oh c'mon," I whine with sad eyes as I admire my masterpiece of an outfit in the mirror. "This totally looks like something one of the witches on AHS: Coven would wear."

"Okay but what if there's a lot of running around that you have to do, like fetching coffees or making copies. Your feet are going to kill you and then once you're dead they'll have to fire you, obviously," he explains in an exaggerated way.

"You're being so melodramatic, but I guess you're right."

"Just wear flats."

"I have to have some kind of heel to make me look taller," I plead.

"Fine, but wear the smallest ones you have- grant it you have a pair under four inches."

"Ugh, I feel like this whole outfit is trashed now. It needs these heels," I stress, leaning one hand on his large shoulder and I pull my heels off. "I'll just wear something else. I'm thinking a short sleeve button down, same floppy tie, but with my purple plaid skirt."

"That's fine, too."

I strip my body of the rejected outfit and kick it over to the corner of the room. It doesn't even phase me that Harry is present, because I know that he doesn't care. We've been besties since the womb, and I've seen him naked more times than I can ever recall. But it's not that we find each other ugly, in fact my best friend is hella fine, but we've friend-zoned each other so badly that the idea of us ever being an item isn't even plausible. What we have is perfect and I wouldn't trade it for the world, honestly. Sure, I'm close with Louis and Shay as well, but Harry and I have an unbreakable bond. He was there for me when I almost had HPV, and I was there for him when he walked in on his parents having sex. You really can't turn your back on somebody after events like those.

"I'm so nervous, Harry," I let out. "I've had to poop like three times this morning, you know how I get when I'm not feeling confident. Can't I just stay home and binge watch Friday Night Lights with you."

Harry stands up from the bed and helps me button up my new shirt. "No, because then you won't be living your dream and then that means you'll probably end up average like our parents, and we promised each other that we wouldn't allow that."

He was right. We made that promise to each other back in nursery school.  What can I say? We were mature for our age.

"I know, but what if everybody hates me?" I say, taking deep breaths.

"Everybody loves you, Ari,"

"Okay but what if everybody already has their inside jokes? Like "oh, look, there goes Jane on her quest to the water cooler," and everyone bursts out in laughter but I don't get it because why is Jane on a quest to the water cooler? Who is Jane? Does she easily get lost while looking for liquids? I didn't even know there was a water cooler!" I start to frantically sweat underneath my armpits while I go on this tirade.

"Now you're just being ridiculous. Nobody named Jane drinks from water coolers. People named Jane bring in their own Eco-friendly water containers," he entertains my delusional scenario to make me feel better. "And I love how you made your voice all deep and manly when you pretended to be the person cracking the joke."

He closes in and gives me a tight hug and I feel a little bit better. Only a little bit.

"Friday Night Lights can be binge-watched when you get home tonight from your successful first day. I'll have the wine and pizza waiting for you."

"Fine," I tell him. But I'm not fine. I want to put a zip-lock baggie over my head, or stick my head in an oven, or drown myself in the bathtub filled with all of the Lush bath-bombs I still haven't used.

"And you're not at all nervous for your first writing class today?" I ask him.

"Nah," he scratches his head. "I'll most likely just sit in the back of the room and take some notes on what the dude or lady has to say."

"Well what are you gonna wear? You never know, you could meet a hot guy or girl who loves to write and you can, like, have really literate sext messages."

Harry looks at me straight-faced for a second before bursting out in laughter. "I hate you," he managed to say between laughs. "I really, hate you."

"You love me. Now let's go look in your closet," I say as I exit the room in my finally finished outfit and cross the hall into his bedroom. He follows after me and watches as I open up his closet. I rummage through a few things before finding something adorbs.

"Okay, you're wearing this white shirt with these creepy hands smoking a cigarette," (he probably bought it from Urban Outfitters because only they would sell something this mindfuckingly random) "and some black skinnies with these Doc Martin boots," I command.

"You got it boss," he obeys and pulls off his boxers and replaces them with fresh ones. He then takes a pair of jeans out of his drawer, pulls them on and then uses the deodorant on top of his dresser.

"You're gonna look fab," I tell him, handing him the clean t-shirt. He pulls it over his head and runs his hands through his disheveled curls.

"How do I look?" He asks and does a quick spin purely for my amusement.

"So insta worthy. Let's take a pic."

I pull out my iPhone and snap a few mirror pics of the two of us. By a few, I mean about 56.

"First we're gonna break the internet like Kim K with this selfie, then we're gonna fuck shit up in NYC today," I kiss his cheek. "Love it when we slay."

///

when i try to take pics i literally have to take over 5k until i can even reach the possibility of one nice one. so ari and harry's 56 pics must truly all be blessings.

please comment and vote!!!!

p.s. literally itching to write about ari's first day at Seventeen mag.

added: OMG YOU GUYS ARE SO FREAKING AMAZING !! WE JUST SURPASSED 2K READS AND IM JUMPING UP AND DOWN AND OMG I CANT THANK YALL ENOUGH REALLY