The Bite

I put both hands against his shoulders.

He was warm. Far too warm for a person making such an unreasonable suggestion.

“Move,” I signed when he lifted enough to see me.

“I'm talking to you.”

“You're lying on me.”

He looked down as if this had escaped his attention. Then he shifted his weight onto one elbow, giving me space without getting off the bed.

“What do you need a boyfriend for?” he asked.

I stared at him.

That was apparently a serious question.

“Because I want one.”

“Ryan isn't the right guy.”

“You don't get to decide that.”

“I'm not deciding. I'm saying you can do better.”

The little reading lamp behind my pillow was still on. I reached around and turned it toward us. If he was going to interrogate me in my own bed, he could at least watch the complete answers.

Cole blinked at the light, then moved his arm so I could sit up.

He stayed beside me, one leg bent, leaving approximately no room for another adult human being to sleep normally.

“After graduation, I'll introduce you to people,” he said. “Good people. Somebody who actually deserves you.”

“After graduation?”

“Or before. Whenever you want.”

“I want to see Ryan now.”

He exhaled through his nose.

I had seen that expression on the court when the referee made a decision he hated.

“You've had dinner and watched a movie,” he said. “You barely know him.”

“And I won't get to know him if you keep coming along.”

“That's a little unfair.”

I looked at him until he glanced away.

Behind the wall, somebody coughed.

Cole lowered his voice. “You know I'm looking out for you.”

“I know that's what you call it.”

His gaze came back to mine.

I hadn't meant the words to feel quite that sharp.

For a moment, neither of us moved. I could see the faint crease between his eyebrows, the place his hair had flattened against his pillow. This was my best friend. The person who remembered the classroom where my Tuesday lecture met even though I regularly forgot.

He was also the person who had let Ryan walk across campus while I tried to stop him.

Both things were true, and I didn't know what to do with them.

“I was angry,” I signed. “You heard what I wanted, and you said something else.”

Cole looked down at my hands.

“I shouldn't have taken your phone.”

“No.”

“I gave it back.”

“After I asked twice.”

He rubbed his jaw.

“I'm sorry.”

It came out low, without a joke attached. Some of the tightness under my ribs eased.

Then he said, “But I still don't like him.”

I let my head fall against the wall.

Of course he didn't.

His hand hovered near my knee, then settled on the blanket instead.

“Just don't rush into anything,” he said.

“I wasn't proposing marriage.”

“I know.”

“You were acting like I was.”

He gave a short, unwilling laugh.

I wanted to keep being annoyed. It was difficult when his face did that.

Even worse, I could feel how close his thigh was to mine. It had never bothered me before. Or perhaps I had never let myself examine why I noticed.

Ryan's message had lodged in my head and was now rearranging the furniture.

“I won't rush,” I signed. “But you have to stop deciding what I mean.”

Cole watched me carefully.

“All right.”

I pointed toward his bed.

He didn't move.

“What?” he asked.

“You've finished your speech.”

He reached over and pushed my hair off my forehead. His thumb passed along my temple, slow enough that I forgot the next thing I intended to sign.

“There,” he murmured. “You're not mad anymore.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You stopped trying to throw me out.”

“I was giving you a chance to leave voluntarily.”

He smiled, and I made the mistake of smiling back.

Something changed in his expression.

His eyes dropped to my mouth, then returned to mine. The pause lasted a second too long.

I stopped breathing properly.

He leaned down.

I thought, absurdly, that he might be about to kiss me.

Instead, his teeth caught the soft part of my cheek.

It wasn't hard. More a slow, warm pressure, followed by the brush of his lips when he let go.

I made a strangled sound and shoved his shoulder.

Cole pulled back.

We stared at each other.

His eyes were as wide as mine.

Then he laughed under his breath, looking almost embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “You looked happy again. I got carried away.”

I touched my cheek.

He had bitten me because I looked happy.

Naturally.

The well-known heterosexual cheek bite.

I pointed at his bed with considerably more force.

This time he went.

Before he left, he brushed his thumb over the damp spot on my skin. That did absolutely nothing to improve the situation.

“Sleep,” he said. “I'll take you out after class tomorrow.”

He climbed into his own bed looking pleased with himself.

I closed the curtain and sat there with my hand against my face.

For two years, I had put every casual touch in the same box. Friendship. Comfort. Cole being Cole.

Now the box had teeth marks in it.

I opened Ryan's message again.

He might not even know that's what it is.

Across the room, Cole's mattress creaked as he settled down.

“Jamie?”

I tapped twice on the bed frame. Listening.

“Goodnight.”

I tapped once in reply.

Then I lay down, eyes open, with a ridiculous warmth spreading from my cheek all the way into my chest.

I had spent the whole evening insisting that my roommate was straight.

For the first time, I wasn't sure I believed myself.