Harassenger: Backseat Admirer ✔️

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

"I think I will stay up for a bit. I think Trixie just woke up." After a long dinner with Mick, we were both pretty stuffed and ready to shut down. I wanted to watch a little television before hitting the hay, so I told Mick I'd be to bed in a little while. It was odd having to tell him I'd be there later considering I'd never had a roommate I had to inform.

"Alright, goodnight, Natt."

"Night."

I walked over to Trixie, sitting beside her on the love seat. She had turned the television onto The Middle, a Valentine's Day episode where Brick falls for a girl named Autumn.

"I love this one. I think Brick is so sweet." I said.

"He's weird. The best one on the show is Brad, and he's rarely on it. Remember when he dressed up as Danny and Sandy using only one costume?"

"Of course; how could I forget?" We giggled. She scooted over on the couch with her hands resting on her knees, offering some of her fleece blanket.

"So I heard you with Mick earlier. You two must have been having a good time in the kitchen with all of the laughing and squealing. Unless you two were doing some other activity on the kitchen counter." She winked.

"Trixie, stop, as if. We were only cooking."

"Uhuh, for now. I think you like him."

"What? Yes, I like him as a friend."

"Call it friendtuition, but I sense some sexual tension between the two of you and I'm going to enjoy watching this unfold, maybe more than I enjoy talking to my man." Trixie Wang was smarter than I gave her credit for.

"Trixie, you know who I like and it's not him. I don't like him."

"Don't like who?" Coming in was Holt, a handful of leftover fried shrimp into the palm of his hands. I should've known he was going to sneak in when Della fell asleep.

"Brad on The Middle." Trixie said, covering up for me.

"Ew, tell me you don't like him." He said, scooting between the two of us and propping his feet on the coffee table.

"Nope. I like Axl, the one with the curly hair and smells his own pits." I winked, teasingly.

"Gross. So what are you girls doing tonight?"

"Sleeping. I'm about to take my second nap." Trixie yawned, grabbing her blanket and standing up from the furniture.

"Awh, well good night." Holt and I said.

It was just the two of us now, watching the next episode of a comedy classic.

His head titled back onto the couch, his face serene, and his body sucked into the couch as if it were to grow arms and snatch him.

"So how's your honeymoon going?" I made small talk, keeping the conversation light.

"It's like I expected. Lots of swimming and partying, except for the food. God, I miss food."

"Usually guys say they miss girls when they get married, not food." I retorted.

"It surprised me, food. I didn't know Della was a strict vegan. You know, some people say they are, but change they're mine. You know how people say they're on a diet but have a midnight snack anyway? Kinda like that. Well, she's a full on vegan." He scratched his head, sighing next to me.

"That sucks for you." I tissed.

"Yepp, so that date with Adam went horrible, huh?"

"Worse than horrible. I'm surprised Trixie didn't leave the bar early with him there. He is way too hygiene- conscious for a girl like me who eats with her hands and likes to pet random dogs." I pointed out, putting my feet on top of his legs that still rested on the table. His hand fell against my leg, as it so often did when we sat like this.

"Yeah, he wasn't your type. In my defense, I'm against this whole dating thing. If I could keep you to myself, I would. I mean, if I could keep you protected, I would." He scratched his head, looking toward the televisiom, the light from the screen illuminating his reddened cheeks.

"I know it's not your fault. I put all the blame on your precious wife and her stupid traditions." I said, openly speaking ill of his wife.

"Don't let her hear you say that." He pressed his fingers over his lips, pretending to lock hem up and throw away the key.

I nodded, deciding my loud mouth could get me in trouble if I continued to talk about her. You speak of the devil, she'll come running.

Instead, I focused back on the television, deciding it was best we didn't get into it about his wife. Wow, it was so strange saying wife, and certainly not in the context I thought I'd be saying it.

"Hey, look, this is where the family goes on vacation. They fight the entire way there, no thanks to the parents." I pointed to the screen that Holt and I were already looking at.

"We were like that, too. Remember the basketball goal in my backyard? We used to play all hours of the day, elbowing each other and tripping each other on the cement and my parents just watched us. They knew I'd never hurt you, and they allowed us to play around like hooligans."

I did remember those days. Those days were easier. I'd spend my summers at his house playing video games, listening to music, and sometimes he'd come to the gym to work out while I sat there and ate chips. I was beginning to realize that what we had was just a friendship. I was a buddy to him, like Sue was to Axl, or worse, like Darren was to Axl. We hung out like pals, and he confided in me because he trusted me more than his regular guy friends. It all made sense the reason he never thought of me as more than friend, and that's because everytime we hung out, I reminded him that we were nothing more but friends. While Della flaunted her tanned body and lean structure, I had always flaunted my potato-eating, fist-bumping self. No wonder why he was turned off. But I'm not going to be someone I'm not, and if I put myself into the friendzone instead of the end zone, I couldn't change that. Underneath our friendship, there was a girl who really cared about him, or...or was I the one who was fooled? Is what was on the surface all there was? Had we been 'just friends' all along?

"I miss those days when we were young."

"Yes, we've both grown up. I've gotten taller and less stupid, that's for sure. You haven't gotten taller, but you've definitely changed. You're less cute and cuddly, more so beautiful, if anything."

"Oh, stop." I dusted his comment off.

"You know I'm serious. You're beautiful, inside and out." He must be high on too many shrimp to say that so openly.

What surprised me the most is that I didn't blush at his comment, and I didn't get a fuzzy feeling in my stomach. Instead, I took his comment in stride, and replied with grace.

"Thank you, Holt, that's very sweet of you." Flashbacks of being rejected when I told him I liked him flooded back to me, but I tossed them to the side. I realized I didn't want to be rejected, and I didn't want to be second to anyone anymore. I was beginning to think I was ready to move on.