Amaryllis

Scotch

I felt my throat clench up in panic as I neared the door. I almost couldn't bear to open it. Pavel, my best friend since I'd met him a year and a half ago on the internet, would be in there. At the beginning of the month, he'd taken a spur of the moment plane journey from St. Petersburg to my flat in London.

That had been two weeks ago.

Last night, I'd been very drunk. Pavel, of course, was not. Russia had few laws restricting minors from drinking, and after a while, one starts to build quite a tolerance for the alcohol that was currently addling all my thought processes.

I'd been bottling up a few confusing and distressing emotions for a few months now, but half a bottle of scotch tended to make me very loose lipped.

"I've liked you for a long time, Pasha," I mumbled against the rim of my glass.

"Hm?" Pavel's blonde eyebrows flicked up with curiosity at my barely vocalized words.

"I like you, Pasha! A lot! I have a big giant crush on you!" His eyes widened comically.

And I didn't stop there. I'd continued talking about him, how I freaked over my sexuality, and how I thought if I didn't call attention to it, it might go away. At the time, I hadn't noticed how red Pavel's pale cheeks were flushing. That is, I didn't notice until after he'd kissed me.

I shivered at the alcohol blurred memories that played like a movie in my head and walked up the stairs. My hand hesitated over the doorknob. As I faltered, sound leaked through the walls. I vaguely recognized my favorite band The Spill Canvas, which I'd introduced Pasha to a week ago, playing from my stereo, but I was too distracted to think anything of it.

I opened the door.

"Pasha?" I called softly. I heard a scuffle, like he was scrambling to get up. I smiled at that, and then at his head poking around the corner of the walls, and then at the big goofy grin stretching across his face.

"Dakota!" The twin smiles faded from our mouths. "Where have you been?"

"I - I had to take a walk. Sometimes I just get kind of cramped in here." I gestured vaguely to my apartment. He nodded slowly, watching me cautiously. He hadn't spiked his hair yet, and it hung in front of his icy blue eyes. I inhaled sharply and broke the eye contact I had unknowingly perpetuated. "What do you want for breakfast?" I moved into my small kitchen immediately to the right of the door and knelt to look into my fridge. He was quiet for some time while I rummaged through the icebox.

He spoke up. "Clarification?"

I gasped and dropped the bottle of soda I'd been holding, then sighed. I sat on the cold tile and let my head fall into my hands. Pavel sat next to me. "Not immediately. I know you're confused. It's okay. But... I'm just wondering."

There was another silence as I returned the soda to its previous position and shut the fridge again. Pavel's arm was pressed against mine, and his body heat filtered through my hoodie. I resisted the overwhelming urge to lean against him. Instead, I mentally thanked my friend for not changing the way we'd sat together for the past two weeks. The last thing we needed in this already awkward conversation was an awkward seating arrangement. Plus, I liked sitting like this with him. His warmth reminded me that he really was real, that he really was here with me, and that he actually liked me enough that actual physical contact was no issue, even in the current situation.

"Well," I huffed, "I wasn't lying." I leaned my head against the island in the middle of the room. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be!" Pavel stuttered. "Um, I mean - er..." The same red flush as last night spread across his cheeks again. I smirked a little as he mumbled nervously in Russian and glanced at me hopefully.